Nathan the Wise; a dramatic poem in five acts

Scene.—A Place of Palms

The Templar walking to and fro, a Friar following him at some distance, as if desirous of addressing him.

TEMPLARThis fellow does not follow me for pastime.How skaunt he eyes his hands!  Well, my good brother—Perhaps I should say, father; ought I not?FRIARNo—brother—a lay-brother at your service.TEMPLARWell, brother, then; if I myself had something—But—but, by God, I’ve nothing.FRIAR   Thanks the same;And God reward your purpose thousand-fold!The will, and not the deed, makes up the giver.Nor was I sent to follow you for alms—TEMPLARSent then?FRIAR   Yes, from the monastery.TEMPLAR      WhereI was just now in hopes of coming inFor pilgrims’ fare.FRIAR   They were already at table:But if it suit with you to turn directly—TEMPLARWhy so?  ’Tis true, I have not tasted meatThis long time.  What of that?  The dates are ripe.FRIARO with that fruit go cautiously to work.Too much of it is hurtful, sours the humours,Makes the blood melancholy.TEMPLAR   And if IChoose to be melancholy—For this warningYou were not sent to follow me, I ween.FRIAROh, no: I only was to ask about you,And feel your pulse a little.TEMPLAR      And you tell meOf that yourself?FRIAR   Why not?TEMPLAR      A deep one! troth:And has your cloister more such?FRIAR      I can’t say.Obedience is our bounden duty.TEMPLAR   So—And you obey without much scrupulous questioning?FRIARWere it obedience else, good sir?TEMPLAR   How is itThe simple mind is ever in the right?May you inform me who it is that wishesTo know more of me?  ’Tis not you yourself,I dare be sworn.FRIAR   Would it become me, sir,Or benefit me?TEMPLAR   Whom can it become,Whom can it benefit, to be so curious?FRIARThe patriarch, I presume—’twas he that sent me.TEMPLARThe patriarch?  Knows he not my badge, the crossOf red on the white mantle?FRIAR   Can I say?TEMPLARWell, brother, well!  I am a templar, takenPrisoner at Tebnin, whose exalted fortress,Just as the truce expired, we sought to climb,In order to push forward next to Sidon.I was the twentieth captive, but the onlyPardoned by Saladin—with this, the patriarchKnows all, or more than his occasions ask.FRIARAnd yet no more than he already knows,I think.  But why alone of all the captivesThou hast been spared, he fain would learn—TEMPLAR      Can IMyself tell that?  Already, with bare neck,I kneeled upon my mantle, and awaitedThe blow—when Saladin with steadfast eyeFixed me, sprang nearer to me, made a sign—I was upraised, unbound, about to thank him—And saw his eye in tears.  Both stand in silence.He goes.  I stay.  How all this hangs together,Thy patriarch may unriddle.FRIAR   He concludes,That God preserved you for some mighty deed.TEMPLARSome mighty deed?  To save out of the fireA Jewish girl—to usher curious pilgrimsAbout Mount Sinai—to—FRIAR   The time may come—And this is no such trifle—but perhapsThe patriarch meditates a weightier office.TEMPLARThink you so, brother?  Has he hinted aught?FRIARWhy, yes; I was to sift you out a little,And hear if you were one to—TEMPLAR   Well—to what?I’m curious to observe how this man sifts.FRIARThe shortest way will be to tell you plainlyWhat are the patriarch’s wishes.TEMPLAR   And they are—FRIARTo send a letter by your hand.TEMPLAR   By me?I am no carrier.  And were that an officeMore meritorious than to save from burningA Jewish maid?FRIAR   So it should seem; must seem—For, says the patriarch, to all ChristendomThis letter is of import; and to bear itSafe to its destination, says the patriarch,God will reward with a peculiar crownIn heaven; and of this crown, the patriarch says,No one is worthier than you—TEMPLAR   Than I?FRIARFor none so able, and so fit to earnThis crown, the patriarch says, as you.TEMPLAR      As I?FRIARThe patriarch here is free, can look about him,And knows, he says, how cities may be stormed,And how defended; knows, he says, the strengthsAnd weaknesses of Saladin’s new bulwark,And of the inner rampart last thrown up;And to the warriors of the Lord, he says,Could clearly point them out;—TEMPLAR   And can I knowExactly the contents of this same letter?FRIARWhy, that I don’t pretend to vouch exactly—’Tis to King Philip: and our patriarch—I often wonder how this holy man,Who lives so wholly to his God and heaven,Can stoop to be so well informed aboutWhatever passes here—’Tis a hard task!TEMPLARWell—and your patriarch—FRIAR   Knows, with great precision,And from sure hands, how, when, and with what force,And in which quarter, Saladin, in caseThe war breaks out afresh, will take the field.TEMPLARHe knows that?FRIAR   Yes; and would acquaint King Philip,That he may better calculate, if reallyThe danger be so great as to requireHim to renew at all events the truceSo bravely broken by your body.TEMPLAR   So?This is a patriarch indeed!  He wantsNo common messenger; he wants a spy.Go tell your patriarch, brother, I am not,As far as you can sift, the man to suit him.I still esteem myself a prisoner, andA templar’s only calling is to fight,And not to ferret out intelligence.FRIARThat’s much as I supposed, and, to speak plainly,Not to be blamed.  The best is yet behind.The patriarch has made out the very fortress,Its name, and strength, and site on Libanon,Wherein the mighty sums are now concealed,With which the prudent father of the sultanProvides the cost of war, and pays the army.He knows that Saladin, from time to time,Goes to this fortress, through by-ways and passeWith few attendants.TEMPLAR   Well—FRIAR      How easy ’twereTo seize his person in these expeditions,And make an end of all!  You shudder, sir—Two Maronites, who fear the Lord, have offerTo share the danger of the enterprise,Under a proper leader.TEMPLAR   And the patriarchHad cast his eye on me for this brave office?FRIARHe thinks King Philip might from PtolemaisBest second such a deed.TEMPLAR   On me? on me?Have you not heard then, just now heard, the favourWhich I received from Saladin?FRIAR      Oh, yes!TEMPLARAnd yet?FRIAR   The patriarch thinks—that’s mighty well—God, and the order’s interest—TEMPLAR   Alter nothing,Command no villainies.FRIAR   No, that indeed not;But what is villainy in human eyesMay in the sight of God, the patriarch thinks,Not be—TEMPLAR   I owe my life to Saladin,And might take his?FRIAR   That—fie!  But Saladin,The patriarch thinks, is yet the common foeOf Christendom, and cannot earn a rightTo be your friend.TEMPLAR   My friend—because I will notBehave like an ungrateful scoundrel to him.FRIARYet gratitude, the patriarch thinks, is notA debt before the eye of God or man,Unless for our own sakes the benefitHad been conferred; and, it has been reported,The patriarch understands that SaladinPreserved your life merely because your voice,Your air, or features, raised a recollectionOf his lost brother.TEMPLAR   He knows this? and yet—If it were sure, I should—ah, Saladin!How! and shall nature then have formed in meA single feature in thy brother’s likeness,With nothing in my soul to answer to it?Or what does correspond shall I suppressTo please a patriarch?  So thou dost not cheat us,Nature—and so not contradict Thyself,Kind God of all.—Go, brother, go away:Do not stir up my anger.FRIAR   I withdrawMore gladly than I came.  We cloister-folkAre forced to vow obedience to superiors.[Goes.Templar and DayaDAYAThe monk, methinks, left him in no good mood:But I must risk my message.TEMPLAR   Better stillThe proverb says that monks and women areThe devil’s clutches; and I’m tossed to-dayFrom one to th’ other.DAYA   Whom do I behold?—Thank God!  I see you, noble knight, once more.Where have you lurked this long, long space?  You’ve notBeen ill?TEMPLAR   No.DAYA      Well, then?TEMPLAR      Yes.DAYA      We’ve all been anxiousLest something ailed you.TEMPLAR   So?DAYA   Have you been journeying?TEMPLARHit off!DAYA   How long returned?TEMPLAR      Since yesterday.DAYAOur Recha’s father too is just returned,And now may Recha hope at last—TEMPLAR      For what?DAYAFor what she often has requested of you.Her father pressingly invites your visit.He now arrives from Babylon, with twentyHigh-laden camels, brings the curious drugs,And precious stones, and stuffs, he has collectedFrom Syria, Persia, India, even China.TEMPLARI am no chap.DAYA   His nation honours him,As if he were a prince, and yet to hear himCalled the wise Nathan by them, not the rich,Has often made me wonder.TEMPLAR   To his nationAre rich and wise perhaps of equal import.DAYABut above all he should be called the good.You can’t imagine how much goodness dwellsWithin him.  Since he has been told the serviceYou rendered to his Recha, there is nothingThat he would grudge you.TEMPLAR   Aye?DAYA      Do—see him, try him.TEMPLARA burst of feeling soon is at an end.DAYAAnd do you think that I, were he less kind,Less bountiful, had housed with him so long:That I don’t feel my value as a Christian:For ’twas not o’er my cradle said, or sung,That I to Palestina should pursueMy husband’s steps, only to educateA Jewess.  My husband was a noble pageIn Emperor Frederic’s army.TEMPLAR      And by birthA Switzer, who obtained the gracious honourOf drowning in one river with his master.Woman, how often you have told me this!Will you ne’er leave off persecuting me?DAYAMy Jesus! persecute—TEMPLAR      Aye, persecute.Observe then, I henceforward will not see,Not hear you, nor be minded of a deedOver and over, which I did unthinking,And which, when thought about, I wonder at.I wish not to repent it; but, remember,Should the like accident occur again,’Twill be your fault if I proceed more coolly,Ask a few questions, and let burn what’s burning.DAYAMy God forbid!TEMPLAR   From this day forth, good woman,Do me at least the favour not to know me:I beg it of you; and don’t send the father.A Jew’s a Jew, and I am rude and bearish.The image of the maid is quite erasedOut of my soul—if it was ever there—DAYABut yours remains with her.TEMPLAR   Why so—what then—Wherefore give harbour to it?—DAYA   Who knows wherefore?Men are not always what they seem to be.TEMPLARThey’re seldom better than they seem to be.DAYABen’t in this hurry.TEMPLAR   Pray, forbear to makeThese palm-trees odious.  I have loved to walk here.DAYAFarewell then, bear.  Yet I must track the savage.

ACT II

Scene.—The Sultan’s Palace.—An outer room of Sittah’s apartment

Saladin and Sittah, playing chessSITTAHWherefore so absent, brother?  How you play!SALADINNot well?  I thought—SITTAH   Yes; very well for me,Take back that move.SALADIN   Why?SITTAH      Don’t you see the knightBecomes exposed?SALADIN   ’Tis true: then so.SITTAH      And soI take the pawn.SALADIN   That’s true again.  Then, check!SITTAHThat cannot help you.  When my king is castledAll will be safe.SALADIN   But out of my dilemma’Tis not so easy to escape unhurt.Well, you must have the knight.SITTAH      I will not have him,I pass him by.SALADIN   In that, there’s no forbearance:The place is better than the piece.SITTAH      Maybe.SALADINBeware you reckon not without your host:This stroke you did not think of.SITTAH      No, indeed;I did not think you tired of your queen.SALADINMy queen?SITTAH   Well, well!  I find that I to-dayShall earn a thousand dinars to an asper.SALADINHow so, my sister?SITTAH   Play the ignorant—As if it were not purposely thou losest.I find not my account in ’t; for, besidesThat such a game yields very little pastime,When have I not, by losing, won with thee?When hast thou not, by way of comfort to meFor my lost game, presented twice the stake?SALADINSo that it may have been on purpose, sister,That thou hast lost at times.SITTAH      At least, my brother’sGreat liberality may be one causeWhy I improve no faster.SALADIN   We forgetThe game before us: lot us make an end of it.SITTAHI move—so—now then—check! and check again!SALADINThis countercheck I wasn’t aware of, Sittah;My queen must fall the sacrifice.SITTAH      Let’s see—Could it be helped?SALADIN   No, no, take off the queen!That is a piece which never thrives with me.SITTAHOnly that piece?SALADIN      Off with it!  I shan’t miss it.Thus I guard all again.SITTAH      How civillyWe should behave to queens, my brother’s lessonsHave taught me but too well.SALADIN      Take her, or not,I stir the piece no more.SITTAH   Why should I take her?Check!SALADIN   Go on.SITTAH      Check!—SALADIN      And check-mate?SITTAH   Hold! not yet.You may advance the knight, and ward the danger,Or as you will—it is all one.SALADIN   It is so.You are the winner, and Al-Hafi pays.Let him be called.  Sittah, you was not wrong;I seem to recollect I was unmindful—A little absent.  One isn’t always willingTo dwell upon some shapeless bits of woodCoupled with no idea.  Yet the Imam,When I play with him, bends with such abstraction—The loser seeks excuses.  Sittah, ’twas notThe shapeless men, and the unmeaning squares,That made me heedless—your dexterity,Your calm sharp eye.SITTAH   And what of that, good brother,Is that to be th’ excuse for your defeat?Enough—you played more absently than I.SALADINThan you!  What dwells upon your mind, my Sittah?Not your own cares, I doubt—SITTAH      O Saladin,When shall we play again so constantly?SALADINAn interruption will but whet our zeal.You think of the campaign.  Well, let it come.It was not I who first unsheathed the sword.I would have willingly prolonged the truce,And willingly have knit a closer bond,A lasting one—have given to my SittahA husband worthy of her, Richard’s brother.SITTAHYou love to talk of Richard.SALADIN   Richard’s sisterMight then have been allotted to our Melek.O what a house that would have formed—the first—The best—and what is more—of earth the happiest!You know I am not loth to praise myself;Why should I?—Of my friends am I not worthy?O we had then led lives!SITTAH   A pretty dream.It makes me smile.  You do not know the Christians.You will not know them.  ’Tis this people’s prideNot to be men, but to be Christians.  EvenWhat of humane their Founder felt, and taught,And left to savour their found superstition,They value not because it is humane,Lovely, and good for man; they only prize itBecause ’twas Christ who taught it, Christ who did it.’Tis well for them He was so good a man:Well that they take His goodness all for granted,And in His virtues put their trust.  His virtues—’Tis not His virtues, but His name aloneThey wish to thrust upon us—’Tis His nameWhich they desire should overspread the world,Should swallow up the name of all good men,And put the best to shame.  ’Tis His mere nameThey care for—SALADIN   Else, my Sittah, as thou sayst,They would not have required that thou, and Melek,Should be called Christians, ere you might be sufferedTo feel for Christians conjugal affection.SITTAHAs if from Christians only, and as Christians,That love could be expected which our MakerIn man and woman for each other planted.SALADINThe Christians do believe such idle notions,They well might fancy this: and yet thou errest.The templars, not the Christians, are in fault.’Tis not as Christians, but as templars, thatThey thwart my purpose.  They alone prevent it.They will on no account evacuate Acca,Which was to be the dower of Richard’s sister,

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