Nathan the Wise; a dramatic poem in five acts

ACT II

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

Saladin and Sittah, playing chess

SITTAH

Wherefore so absent, brother?  How you play!

SALADIN

Not well?  I thought—

SITTAH

   Yes; very well for me,
Take back that move.

SALADIN

   Why?

SITTAH

      Don’t you see the knight
Becomes exposed?

SALADIN

   ’Tis true: then so.

SITTAH

      And so
I take the pawn.

SALADIN

   That’s true again.  Then, check!

SITTAH

That cannot help you.  When my king is castled
All 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.

SALADIN

Beware 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.

SALADIN

My queen?

SITTAH

   Well, well!  I find that I to-day
Shall earn a thousand dinars to an asper.

SALADIN

How so, my sister?

SITTAH

   Play the ignorant—
As if it were not purposely thou losest.
I find not my account in ’t; for, besides
That 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 me
For my lost game, presented twice the stake?

SALADIN

So that it may have been on purpose, sister,
That thou hast lost at times.

SITTAH

      At least, my brother’s
Great liberality may be one cause
Why I improve no faster.

SALADIN

   We forget
The game before us: lot us make an end of it.

SITTAH

I move—so—now then—check! and check again!

SALADIN

This 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.

SITTAH

Only that piece?

SALADIN

      Off with it!  I shan’t miss it.
Thus I guard all again.

SITTAH

      How civilly
We should behave to queens, my brother’s lessons
Have 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 willing
To dwell upon some shapeless bits of wood
Coupled with no idea.  Yet the Imam,
When I play with him, bends with such abstraction—
The loser seeks excuses.  Sittah, ’twas not
The 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.

SALADIN

Than you!  What dwells upon your mind, my Sittah?
Not your own cares, I doubt—

SITTAH

      O Saladin,
When shall we play again so constantly?

SALADIN

An 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 Sittah
A husband worthy of her, Richard’s brother.

SITTAH

You love to talk of Richard.

SALADIN

   Richard’s sister
Might 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 pride
Not to be men, but to be Christians.  Even
What 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 it
Because ’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 alone
They wish to thrust upon us—’Tis His name
Which they desire should overspread the world,
Should swallow up the name of all good men,
And put the best to shame.  ’Tis His mere name
They 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 suffered
To feel for Christians conjugal affection.

SITTAH

As if from Christians only, and as Christians,
That love could be expected which our Maker
In man and woman for each other planted.

SALADIN

The 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, that
They thwart my purpose.  They alone prevent it.
They will on no account evacuate Acca,
Which was to be the dower of Richard’s sister,
And, lest their order suffer, use this cant—
Bring into play the nonsense of the monk—
And scarcely would await the truce’s end
To fall upon us.  Go on so—go on,
To me you’re welcome, sirs.  Would all things else
Went but as right!

SITTAH

   What else should trouble thee,
If this do not?

SALADIN

   Why, that which ever has.
I’ve been on Libanon, and seen our father.
He’s full of care.

SITTAH

   Alas!

SALADIN

      He can’t make shift,
Straitened on all sides, put off, disappointed;
Nothing comes in.

SITTAH

   What fails him, Saladin?

SALADIN

What? but the thing I scarcely deign to name,
Which, when I have it, so superfluous seems,
And, when I have it not, so necessary.
Where is Al-Hafi then—this fatal money—
O welcome, Hafi!

Hafi, Saladin, and Sittah

HAFI

   I suppose the gold
From Egypt is arrived.

SALADIN

      Hast tidings of it?

HAFI

I? no, not I.  I thought to have ta’en it here.

SALADIN

To Sittah pay a thousand dinars.

HAFI

   Pay?
And not receive—that’s something less than nothing.
To Sittah and again to Sittah—and
Once more for loss at chess?  Is this your game?

SITTAH

Dost grudge me my good fortune?

HAFI (examining the board)

   Grudge! you know—

SITTAH (making signs to Hafi)

Hush, Hafi, hush!

HAFI

   And were the white men yours?
You gave the check?

SITTAH

   ’Tis well he does not hear.

HAFI

And he to move?

SITTAH (approaching Hafi)

   Say then aloud that I
Shall have my money.

HAFI (still considering the game)

   Yes, yes! you shall have it—
As you have always had it.

SITTAH

      Are you crazy?

HAFI

The game is not decided; Saladin,
You have not lost.

SALADIN (scarcely hearkening)

   Well, well!—pay, pay.

HAFI

   Pay, pay—
There stands your queen.

SALADIN (still walking about)

   It boots not, she is useless.

SITTAH (low to Hafi)

Do say that I may send and fetch the gold.

HAFI

Aye, aye, as usual—But although the queen
Be useless, you are by no means check-mate.

SALADIN (dashes down the board)

I am.  I will then—

HAFI

   So! small pains, small gains;
As got, so spent.

SALADIN (to Sittah)

   What is he muttering there?

SITTAH (to Saladin, winking meanwhile to Hafi)

You know him well, and his unyielding way.
He chooses to be prayed to—maybe he’s envious—

SALADIN

No, not of thee, not of my sister, surely.
What do I hear, Al-Hafi, are you envious?

HAFI

Perhaps.  I’d rather have her head than mine,
Or her heart either.

SITTAH

   Ne’ertheless, my brother,
He pays me right, and will again to-day.
Let him alone.  There, go away, Al-Hafi;
I’ll send and fetch my dinars.

HAFI

   No, I will not;
I will not act this farce a moment longer:
He shall, must know it.

SALADIN

   Who? what?

SITTAH

      O Al-Hafi,
Is this thy promise, this thy keeping word?

HAFI

How could I think it was to go so far?

SALADIN

Well, what am I to know?

SITTAH

   I pray thee, Hafi,
Be more discreet.

SALADIN

   That’s very singular.
And what can Sittah then so earnestly,
So warmly have to sue for from a stranger,
A dervis, rather than from me, her brother?
Al-Hafi, I command.  Dervis, speak out.

SITTAH

Let not a trifle, brother, touch you nearer
Than is becoming.  You know I have often
Won the same sum of you at chess, and, as
I have not just at present need of money,
I’ve left the sum at rest in Hafi’s chest,
Which is not over-full; and thus the stakes
Are not yet taken out—but, never fear,
It is not my intention to bestow them
On thee, or Hafi.

HAFI

   Were it only this—

SITTAH

Some more such trifles are perhaps unclaimed;
My own allowance, which you set apart,
Has lain some months untouched.

HAFI

      Nor is that all—

SALADIN

Nor yet—speak then!

HAFI

   Since we have been expecting
The treasure out of Egypt, she not only—

SITTAH

Why listen to him?

HAFI

   Has not had an asper;—

SALADIN

Good creature—but has been advancing to thee—

HAFI

Has at her sole expense maintained thy state.

SALADIN (embracing her)

My sister—ah!

SITTAH

   And who but you, my brother,
Could make me rich enough to have the power?

HAFI

And in a little time again will leave thee
Poor as himself.

SALADIN

   I, poor—her brother, poor?
When had I more, when less than at this instant?
A cloak, a horse, a sabre, and a God!—
What need I else?  With them what can be wanting?
And yet, Al-Hafi, I could quarrel with thee
For this.

SITTAH

   A truce to that, my brother.  Were it
As easy to remove our father’s cares!

SALADIN

Ah! now my joy thou hast at once abated:
To me there is, there can be, nothing wanting;
But—but to him—and, in him, to us all.
What shall I do?  From Egypt maybe nothing
Will come this long time.  Why—God only knows.
We hear of no stir.  To reduce, to spare,
I am quite willing for myself to stoop to,
Were it myself, and only I, should suffer—
But what can that avail?  A cloak, a horse,
A sword I ne’er can want;—as to my God,
He is not to be bought; He asks but little,
Only my heart.  I had relied, Al-Hafi,
Upon a surplus in my chest.

HAFI

      A surplus?
And tell me, would you not have had me impaled,
Or hanged at least, if you had found me out
In hoarding up a surplus?  Deficits—
Those one may venture on.

SALADIN

      Well, but how next?
Could you have found out no one where to borrow
Unless of Sittah?

SITTAH

   And would I have borne
To see the preference given to another?
I still lay claim to it.  I am not as yet
Entirely bare.

SALADIN

   Not yet entirely—This
Was wanting still.  Go, turn thyself about;
Take where, and as, thou canst; be quick, Al-Hafi.
Borrow on promise, contract, anyhow;
But heed me—not of those I have enriched—
To borrow there might seem to ask it back.
Go to the covetous.  They’ll gladliest lend—
They know how well their money thrives with me—

HAFI

I know none such.

SITTAH

   I recollect just now
I heard, Al-Hafi, of thy friend’s return.

HAFI (startled)

Friend—friend of mine—and who should that be?

SITTAH

      Who?
Thy vaunted Jew!

HAFI

   A Jew, and praised by me?

SITTAH

To whom his God (I think I still retain
Thy own expression used concerning him)
To whom, of all the good things of this world,
His God in full abundance has bestowed
The greatest and the least.

HAFI

   What could I mean
When I said so?

SITTAH

   The least of good things, riches;
The greatest, wisdom.

HAFI

   How—and of a Jew
Could I say that?

SITTAH

   Didst thou not—of thy Nathan?

HAFI

Hi ho! of him—of Nathan?  At that moment
He did not come across me.  But, in fact,
He is at length come home; and, I suppose,
Is not ill off.  His people used to call him
The wise—also the rich.

SITTAH

   The rich he’s named
Now more than ever.  The whole town resounds
With news of jewels, costly stuffs, and stores,
That he brings back.

HAFI

   Is he the rich again—
He’ll be, no fear of it, once more the wise.

SITTAH

What thinkst thou, Hafi, of a call on him?

HAFI

On him—sure not to borrow—why, you know him—
He lend?  Therein his very wisdom lies,
That he lends no one.

SITTAH

   Formerly thon gav’st
A very different picture of this Nathan.

HAFI

In case of need he’ll lend you merchandise,
But money, money, never.  He’s a Jew,
There are but few such! he has understanding,
Knows life, plays chess; but is in bad notorious
Above his brethren, as he is in good.
On him rely not.  To the poor indeed
He vies perhaps with Saladin in giving:
Though he distributes less, he gives as freely,
As silently, as nobly, to Jew, Christian,
Mahometan, or Parsee—’tis all one.

SITTAH

And such a man should be—

SALADIN

      How comes it then
I never heard of him?

SITTAH

   Should be unwilling
To lend to Saladin, who wants for others,
Not for himself.

HAFI

   Aye, there peeps out the Jew,
The ordinary Jew.  Believe me, prince,
He’s jealous, really envious of your giving.
To earn God’s favour seems his very business.
He lends not that he may always have to give.
The law commandeth mercy, not compliance:
And thus for mercy’s sake he’s uncomplying.
’Tis true, I am not now on the best terms
With Nathan, but I must entreat you, think not
That therefore I would do injustice to him.
He’s good in everything, but not in that—
Only in that.  I’ll knock at other doors.
I just have recollected an old Moor,
Who’s rich and covetous—I go—I go.

SITTAH

Why in such hurry, Hafi?

SALADIN

      Let him go.

Saladin and Sittah

SITTAH

He hastens like a man who would escape me;
Why so?  Was he indeed deceived in Nathan,
Or does he play upon us?

SALADIN

   Can I guess?
I scarcely know of whom you have been talking,
And hear to-day, for the first time, of Nathan.

SITTAH

Is’t possible the man were hid from thee,
Of whom ’tis said, he has found out the tombs
Of Solomon and David, knows the word
That lifts their marble lids, and thence obtains
The golden oil that feeds his shining pomp?

SALADIN

Were this man’s wealth by miracle created,
’Tis not at David’s tomb, or Solomon’s,
That ’twould be wrought.  Not virtuous men lie there.

SITTAH

His source of opulence is more productive
And more exhaustless than a cave of Mammon.

SALADIN

He trades, I hear.

SITTAH

   His ships fill every harbour;
His caravans through every desert toil.
This has Al-Hafi told me long ago:
With transport adding then—how nobly Nathan
Bestows what he esteems it not a meanness
By prudent industry to have justly earned—
How free from prejudice his lofty soul—
His heart to every virtue how unlocked—
With every lovely feeling how familiar.

SALADIN

Yet Hafi spake just now so coldly of him.

SITTAH

Not coldly; but with awkwardness, confusion,
As if he thought it dangerous to praise him,
And yet knew not to blame him undeserving,
Or can it really be that e’en the best
Among a people cannot quite escape
The tinges of the tribe; and that, in fact,
Al-Hafi has in this to blush for Nathan?
Be that as’t may—be he the Jew or no—
Is he but rich—that is enough for us.

SALADIN

You would not, sister, take his wealth by force.

SITTAH

What do you mean by force—fire, sword?  Oh no!
What force is necessary with the weak
But their own weakness?  Come awhile with me
Into my harem: I have bought a songstress,
You have not heard her, she came yesterday:
Meanwhile I’ll think somewhat about a project
I have upon this Nathan.  Follow, brother.