Scene VII.

Saladin, Nathan.

SALADIN.

(_Aside_) (The coast is clear)--I am not come too soon? Have you reflected on this matter, Nathan? Speak! no one hears.

NATHAN.

Would all the world might hear!

SALADIN.

And are you of your cause so confident? 'Tis wise, indeed, of you to hide no truth, For truth to hazard all, even life and goods.

NATHAN.

Ay, when necessity and profit bid.

SALADIN.

I hope that henceforth I shall rightly bear One of my names, "Reformer of the world And of the law!"

NATHAN.

A noble title, truly; But, Sultan, ere I quite explain myself, Permit me to relate a tale.

SALADIN.

Why not? I ever was a friend of tales well told.

NATHAN.

Well told! Ah, Sultan! that's another thing.

SALADIN.

What! still so proudly modest? But begin.

NATHAN.

In days of yore, there dwelt in Eastern lands A man, who from a valued hand received A ring of priceless worth. An opal stone Shot from within an ever-changing hue, And held this virtue in its form concealed, To render him of God and man beloved, Who wore it in this fixed unchanging faith. No wonder that its Eastern owner ne'er Withdrew it from his finger, and resolved That to his house the ring should be secured. Therefore he thus bequeathed it: first to him Who was the most beloved of his sons, Ordaining then that he should leave the ring To the most dear among his children; then, That without heeding birth, the fav'rite son, In virtue of the ring alone, should still Be lord of all the house. You hear me, Sultan?

SALADIN.

I understand. Proceed.

NATHAN.

From son to son, The ring at length descended to a sire Who had three sons, alike obedient to him, And whom he loved with just and equal love. The first, the second, and the third, in turn, According as they each apart received The overflowings of his heart, appeared Most worthy as his heir, to take the ring, Which, with good-natured weakness, he in turn Had promised privately to each; and thus Things lasted for a while. But death approached, The father now embarrassed, could not bear To disappoint two sons, who trusted him. What's to be done? In secret he commands The jeweller to come, that from the form Of the true ring, he may bespeak two more. Nor cost nor pains are to be spared, to make The rings alike--quite like the true one. This The artist managed. When the rings were brought The father's eye could not distinguish which Had been the model. Overjoyed, he calls His sons, takes leave of each apart--bestows His blessing and his ring on each--and dies. You hear me?

SALADIN (_who has turned away in perplexity_).

Ay! I hear. Conclude the tale.

NATHAN.

'Tis ended, Sultan! All that follows next May well be guessed. Scarce is the father dead, When with his ring, each separate son appears, And claims to be the lord of all the house. Question arises, tumult and debate-- But all in vain--the true ring could no more Be then distinguished than----(_after a pause, in which he awaits the Sultan's reply_) the true faith now.

SALADIN.

Is that your answer to my question?

NATHAN.

No! But it may serve as my apology. I cannot venture to decide between Rings which the father had expressly made, To baffle those who would distinguish them.

SALADIN.

Rings, Nathan! Come, a truce to this! The creeds Which I have named have broad, distinctive marks, Differing in raiment, food, and drink!

NATHAN.

'Tis true! But then they differ not in their foundation. Are not all built on history alike, Traditional or written? History Must be received on trust. Is it not so? In whom are we most likely to put trust? In our own people? in those very men Whose blood we are? who, from our earliest youth Have proved their love for us, have ne'er deceived, Except in cases where 'twere better so? Why should I credit my forefathers less Than you do yours? or can I ask of you To charge your ancestors with falsehood, that The praise of truth may be bestowed on mine? And so of Christians.

SALADIN.

By our Prophet's faith, The man is right. I have no more to say.

NATHAN.

Now let us to our rings once more return. We said the sons complained; each to the judge Swore from his father's hand immediately To have received the ring--as was the case-- In virtue of a promise, that he should One day enjoy the ring's prerogative. In this they spoke the truth. Then each maintained It was not possible that to himself His father had been false. Each could not think His father guilty of an act so base. Rather than that, reluctant as he was To judge his brethren, he must yet declare Some treach'rous act of falsehood had been done.

SALADIN.

Well! and the judge? I'm curious now to hear What you will make him say. Go on, go on!

NATHAN.

The judge said: If the father is not brought Before my seat, I cannot judge the case. Am I to judge enigmas? Do you think That the true ring will here unseal its lips? But, hold! You tell me that the real ring Enjoys the secret power to make the man Who wears it, both by God and man, beloved. Let that decide. Who of the three is loved Best by his brethren? Is there no reply? What! do these love--exciting rings alone Act inwardly? Have they no outward charm? Does each one love himself alone? You're all Deceived deceivers. All your rings are false. The real ring, perchance, has disappeared; And so your father, to supply the loss, Has caused three rings to fill the place of one.

SALADIN.

O, charming, charming!

NATHAN.

And,--the judge continued:-- If you insist on judgment, and refuse My counsel, be it so. I recommend That you consider how the matter stands. Each from his father has received a ring: Let each then think the real ring his own. Your father, possibly, desired to free His power from one ring's tyrannous control. He loved you all with an impartial love, And equally, and had no inward wish To prove the measure of his love for one By pressing heavily upon the rest. Therefore, let each one imitate this love; So, free from prejudice, let each one aim To emulate his brethren in the strife To prove the virtues of his several ring, By offices of kindness and of love, And trust in God. And if, in years to come, The virtues of the ring shall reappear Amongst your children's children, then, once more, Come to this judgment--seat. A greater far Than I shall sit upon it, and decide. So spake the modest judge.

SALADIN.

Oh God, O God!

NATHAN.

And if now, Saladin, you think you're he----

SALADIN.

(_Approaches_ Nathan, _and takes his hand, which he retains to the end of the scene_.)

This promised judge--I?--Dust! I?--Nought! oh God!

NATHAN.

What is the matter, Sultan?

SALADIN.

Dearest Nathan! That judge's thousand years are not yet past; His judgment-seat is not for me. But go, And still remain my friend.

NATHAN.

Has Saladin Aught else to say?

SALADIN.

No.

NATHAN.

Nothing?

SALADIN.

Truly nothing. But why this eagerness?

NATHAN.

I could have wished An opportunity to ask a boon.

SALADIN.

Wait not for opportunity. Speak now.

NATHAN.

I have been traveling, and am just returned From a long journey, from collecting debts. Hard cash is troublesome these perilous times, I know not where I may bestow it safely. These coming wars need money; and, perchance, You can employ it for me, Saladin?

SALADIN (_fixing his eyes upon_ Nathan).

I ask not, Nathan, have you seen Al-Hafi? Nor if some shrewd suspicion of your own Moves you to make this offer.

NATHAN.

What suspicion?

SALADIN.

I do not ask--forgive me,--it is just, For what avails concealment? I confess I was about----

NATHAN.

To ask this very thing?

SALADIN.

Yes!

NATHAN.

Then our objects are at once fulfilled, And if I cannot send you all my store, The Templar is to blame for that. You know The man. I owe a heavy debt to him.

SALADIN.

The Templar! Surely, Nathan, with your gold You do not aid my direst foes?

NATHAN.

I speak Of him whose life was spared by Saladin.

SALADIN.

Of what do you remind me? I had quite Forgot the youth. Where is he? Know you him?

NATHAN.

Have you not heard, then, how your clemency Through him has flowed to me? How, at the risk Of the existence which your mercy gave, He saved my daughter from the raging flames?

SALADIN.

Ha! did he so? He looked like one that would! My brother, too--his image--would have done it. Is he still here? Bring him to me at once. I have so often spoken to my sister Of this same brother, whom she never knew, That I must let her see his counterfeit. Go, fetch him. How a single noble deed, Though but the offspring of the merest whim, Gives birth to other blessings! Bring him to me.

NATHAN (_loosing_ Saladin's _hand_).

I'll go--the other matter then is settled. (_Exit_.)

SALADIN.

I wish I had but let my sister listen. I'll go at once to her and tell it all. (_Exit on the opposite side_.)