Scene 1
[A beautiful land picturesque Country, apparently in high cultivation. The Sun rising. In the distance, a flat space of brilliant verdure. A circuitous road seen. Mordecai's House on one side—close to it a rude Bench.]
[Enter Mordecai, from the House.]
Mor.
Blest be the power who caused the
welcome morning to illume the earth! How bright is the glorious sun, which
shines as warmly on the captive Jew as on the monarch of Assyria. What if
the nations scoff, deride, and hate us? there still is One who hears
the Jew's lament; and the gifts of beauteous nature are sent for our enjoyment
as well as theirs. Then will I not repine; for, even in captivity, the Jew
may be content. Am I not permitted, in this land of infidels, to worship Him
whose law was given to his chosen people? Am I not happy, too, when I behold
my niece, the lovely Esther? she, who from her earliest childhood cheered
my solitary dwelling, and has been to me, child, friend, and kindred! [Lively
Music.]
[Enter Esther, from the House.]
Est.
Peace to thee, my revered uncle.
Mor.
[Embracing her.] May he
who blessed our fathers bless my loved Esther! Thy sight is welcome to me
as is the balmy fragrance of the myrrh. I well remember—when, before
thy parents' died, they gave thee to my protection—I swore to cherish
thee as my own daughter, and well thou hast repaid me for my care.
Est.
My generous uncle! I have no
words to speak my gratitude. To me you have been father—guardian—friend:
say, how can I repay your kind, parental love?
Mor.
You owe no thanks to me. If I
have made you happy, there is an inward voice that whispers like an approving
counselor to my heart that I have done my duty. But let me remind thee,
Esther—when I am gathered to my fathers, and thou art left alone in
the land of infidels, let no persuasion shake thy settled faith: be true
to Him who has chosen us for his people.
Est.
We shall not long be captives,
or my dream has deceived me.
Mor.
Esther, I charge thee let not
nightly visions delude thy senses; but raise thy mind on high before you
go to rest, that no vain dreams may trouble thee again. But let me hear
what has thus wondered thee.
Est.
Methought I sat on the throne
of state, while shouts of "Hail, Esther, Queen of Persia!" echoed through
the hall.
Mor.
[Interrupting her.] No more,
I charge thee! What! thou my niece—a Jewish maiden—seated beside
the infidel! Begone—I'll hear no more!
Est.
I do entreat you let me tell
the rest. Scarce had those sounds been heard, when, in a burst of melody,
I heard—"Hail, Queen Esther! who has saved her people!"
Mor.
'Twas but an illusion of the
brain, and will be best forgotten. [Aside.] Yet should it be verified!
But I will not encourage such a thought, lest it should mar her present
happiness. [Soft music. At this period, in the extreme back, a procession
(Figures) is seen nearing, who increase as they approach in the circuitous
road, or entrances of the Stage, till at last the Persons engaged in the
Scene appear.] See! the guard of the proud Ahasuerus approach. Perhaps
some new edict from the haughty king. They come nearer. Esther, retire.
Est.
[Seeing them.] My dream!
my dream! [Pointing.] Uncle, this realizes my vision! Yes, in my
sleep I saw yonder procession plain as I now behold it. I entreat you let
me remain.
Mor.
Indeed! Now do I marvel at thy
words. Yes—stay then, and hear what may occur. [By this time the Procession
has reached the Stage. Enter with it a Herald and Eunuch.]
Her.
[To Eunuch.] Is this
the place we were directed to?
Eun.
It is; and yonder stands the
maiden whom we seek.
Her.
[Advancing.] Are you named
Mordecai?
Mor.
I am: and more, with pride I
tell thee, I am a Jew.
Her.
This maiden is your niece—of
whose beauty much has been heard.
Mor.
She is—but who are thou
that put these questions to me?
Her.
I bear the royal mandate of King
Ahasuerus, to seek all the beauties within his vast dominions, that from
among them he may choose a queen. Your niece must be conducted to the palace
with the rest.
Mor.
What said the slave? Esther!
she whom I reared from infancy—the only hope of my declining years—she
to become slave to an infidel? Never! Sooner would I see her die before
me. [Crosses to him.] Go back, and tell the haughty king, that the
degraded Jew will lose his life, but will not sell his honour.
Her.
Not so; it is our gracious monarch's
will that she who finds favour in his sight shall be crowned queen of Persia.
Est.
[Aside to Mordecai.]
"Esther—who has saved her people!" Such were the words. My dream will
now be realized. Let me depart, and obey the great Ahasuerus. I'll hazard
all; misery—danger—yes, even death—to make my people free!
Mor.
Yes, yes—the dream. When
I think of that I am irresolute.
Her.
My time is short—is the
maiden ready?
Est.
I am. I beg you will allow me to
speak privately to my uncle before we part, lest we should never meet again.
[Falls on Mordecai's Neck. Herald, &c. retire to the back.] Yes,
Heaven has willed it so; and now, farewell to my long-cherished home—to
you, my loved protector, who have been my only earthly friend.
Mor.
[Struggling with his feelings.]
Can this be Esther? She, whom I fondly hoped would have cheered my last
hours, and closed my eyes in death! And can she leave me for the vain pomp
and splendour of a throne?
Est.
Fear not for me, nor think I
care for the proud monarch's glory. Uncle, I pray you let me obey the king.
Mor.
It is the only sacrifice I can
make, and if it is to save my people, I will not shrink to do it. Now hear
my last injunction. Let not the splendour of a court make thee forget Him
who gave the law. Remember thy captive nation, and pray for their deliverance.
Est.
If I forget thee, oh my chosen
people, and do not cherish and preserve thy memory, and pray for thy peace
and welfare, then may my tongue refuse to frame the strains of harmony—may
I never more know peace, and may my life be passed in grief and sorrow!
Mor.
[Falls on her Neck, and speaks
in broken accents.] Enough—I know thy truth. But if thou art not
happy—should proud Ahasuerus not honour thee as his lawful queen—return
to thy peaceful home, to him who vowed to love and cherish thee; and let the
haughty monarch see the Jews can suffer death, but not dishonour. Now take
my blessing, and obey thy king. [Plaintive Music—he blesses her.]
Her.
My time has expired—we must
depart. [Music. Mordecai embraces her—after an affectionate
farewell she goes out with the Herald, &c. in procession, and cross as
they came on. Mordecai, completely overpowered, sinks on the Bench.]
Mor.
[Recovering.] What wild
delirium is this? can she have left me—alone—solitary? Yes, she
is gone, and life to me will now be scarcely worth retaining. But I will
follow her, even to the palace of Ahasuerus, and watch at the gates to catch
a glimpse of my beloved Esther. I will obtain the disguise of a mendicant—for
were I known they would turn me from the palace gates, as if the Jew had
not the feelings of humanity. Oh that the time were on me when the poor
Jew shall be raised from this state of slavery, and rank in common with
his fellow men!
Levi.
[Without.] Who'll puy my
goots? who'll puy my goots? [Levi enters.] Ah, Mr. Mordecai,
mine goot friend, how do you do? Don't you vant some of mine goots to-day?
How is de beautiful Esther? I've some pretty trinkets for her. She don't vant
my enamel—no, no hers is the real enamel—no false for her. Vy, you
don't shpeak—vat's da matter mit you, eh?
Mor.
Leave me.
Levi.
By mine vort, den, vat's dat?
Oh, Mr. Mordecai, you don't mean to treat honesht Levi so, I'm sure.
Mor.
My good fellow, pardon me. I
did not see you.
Levi.
Nefer mint, mine frient, never
mint—de pretty Miss Esther will come and shpeak mit me.
Mor.
Begone, I say!
Levi.
Ah, now I shee—I shee mit
both my eyes. You got rich, Mr. Mordecai—dat ish vy you forgets your
olt frients.
Mor.
Not so, worthy man. I have lost
that which is more dear to me than all the wealth of the glorious East.
Levi.
Nefer mind dat: ven you look
at mine box you vill find de beautiful trinkets vat ish vort more den all
in your house. Let me put dem out, den you shall choose for Miss Esther.
Mor.
No more, old man! She who was
the only light that cheered my days of exile, the hope of my declining years,
has left me for the vain splendour of the infidel.
Levi.
Vat's dat? Miss Esther! is she
gone? Oh, I am grieved more den if I'd lost my whole box—I am, by mine
vort mine goot frient. But, tell me, who is she gone mit?
Mor.
The slaves of Ahasuerus have
claimed her for their monarch to behold her beauty. See, my friend, how
the ill-fated Jew must bow before the infidel.
Levi.
Oh, Mr. Modecai dat ish too bad!
Shtop, I'll tell you vat I'll do. I've not vone in de vorld dat I cares
for but mine box, so I'll go mit you and watch about de court till ve hear
vat's become of her—vat you say to dat?
Mor.
Worthy man, I accept your offer.
Enter my house, refresh thyself, and we'll depart together. But we must
part at the palace gates. I will appear as a mendicant; and thus I may obtain
intelligence of my loved Esther. I'll deem my bondage glory, since it may
one day help to free my people from this land of slavery! [Exit into
the House.]
Levi.
Pless my heart—pless my heart,
va a shange! Do beautiful Miss Esther—she vat never vanted de enamel,
to go to de infidel! Put den she is a woman, and all women are de little imps
of de devil! you never know dem ven you have dem—for if you've got dem
you hav'n't got dem, dey frisk away like de little villa o' de visp! Oh, by
mine vort I am grievet, but I vill go mit her uncle and see vat's become of
her. Oh, I vill break mine heart—and I vill break mine box too—if
I don't pring her back again! [Exit into the House.]
Scene 2
[A Saloon. Enter Haman, meeting Bigthana, Teresh, and Barnazabus.]
Ham.
My noble friends and wise colleagues,
well met. Methinks I need not urge you further. I am sure you all agree
with me in this great cause of freedom, and long for the time when these
vultures—who have so long been feasting on the substance of our people's
labour, and reveling in wealth robbed from the needy—will be unmasked
before the world!
Ter.
Most noble Haman, we are resolved
to be guided by the counsel, and swear to obey thy will.
Ham.
Enough—now hear me. I have
a plan that will free us for ever of the tyrant's yoke. Then let us, like
the towering eagle, watch our prey, then boldly spring forward, and with
one blow be freed for ever!
Big.
What do thy words import?
Ham.
The vain licentious king has
just selected from his chosen beauties one who will share his throne. The
coronation will shortly take place: then will the pomp and mockery of state
be lavished on the pampered tyrant; and in the hour of his fancied glory,
in the sight of the whole court, Ahasuerus shall die!
Big.
It is indeed a bold and daring
plan—but how can this be done?
Ham.
The splendour of the East will
grace the new-made queen. All will be under my especial orders. Do you,
my friends, mingle among the guests: let each carry a dagger beneath his
garments. I myself will watch at the gates till all have departed; and when
the despotic king, elated with mirthful revelry, and intoxicated with wine,
fancies he reigns in proud security, be you ready, and in that moment of
his ambitious glory, plunge your daggers in the tyrant's heart!
Tre.
Our prudent counselor, we are
resolved to follow your commands. How much our country needs one of your
prudence, wisdom, and unswerving judgment.
Ham.
You overrate my services. Trust
me it only needs a firm and daring mind to crush these tyrant rulers. The
blow once struck, success is sure to follow. [To Barnazabus.]
Hence to thy station at the palace gates—we shall be there anon.
Bar.
I go, my lord. [Exit.]
Big.
Noble Haman, it doth surprise
me that Ahasuerus so soon will fall: our plans are scarcely formed, ere
we behold the dawn of freedom.
Ham.
I joy to hear you thus approve
my plans. Now swear to unite all our energies in this noble cause—to
destroy the tyrant in his seat of grandeur!
All.
We swear it, by the gods!
Ham.
Enough. Now to the palace, to gaze
on the frail show of royalty which to-morrow will be no more. Follow me, friends,
and we will again hold counsel on the great event that will ensure our people's
welfare. [Exeunt.]
Scene 3
[Outside of the Palace of Suza. A splendid entrance by an Archway and Porch. Elevated opening, with Steps. Windows lighted. Stage Dark. Enter Mordecai, disguised as a Mendicant.]
Mor.
At length I have arrived at the
seat of voluptuousness and pampered state!—Here the flattered king
in the lap of indolence reposes in fever-like torpor, degrading the noble
energies of human nature, reveling in all the intoxicating delight of mistaken
pleasure, till by degrees the fountain of health becomes dried up, and loathsome
imbecility reigns predominant. [At this moment the sounds of revelry
within.] Yes I burst in mirth—send forth your expressions of merriment—they
are but the evaporating fumes of potent draughts, which, when exhausted,
will leave the seeds of mortification and decay. Oh, ye guardian powers,
who ordaineth all events for some wise purpose, watch and protect my lovely
Esther in that hall of Pagans!
[Enter Barnazarus, with a Torch.]
Bar.
The hour approaches when I must
take my stand under the porch, by the order of Haman. This nightly watch
but ill agrees with my thoughts. My own happy home, however, will soon be
revisited: in the service of Teresh I have amassed sufficient gold to bless
the declining years of my affectionate mother. This Pagan abode but ill
suits my early habits of life, when the pure laws of our prophets were my
guide.
Mor.
[Coming forward.] I'll
speak with this stranger. Hail, Persian! can you inform me who is the chosen
partner of the king?
Bar.
That can I, and proud am I to
tell it—'tis Esther: a lovely maiden from my own birth-place.
Mor.
[In ecstasy.] Thanks to
the powers above! all is verified, and she will save her people! But did you
say your birthplace? Let me see thee closer—yes, it is—I know thee
well: Thy mother—providence be praised!—is well: but her declining
years want the prop of thy youth, young man. She who reared thee tenderly
should not, in her old age, be neglected.
Bar.
'Tis my intention to return,
and bless with my care her latter years. I have denied my faith to these
infidels, but my heart is still true to my own people. I am in office—with
one of the prime ministers—and will aid you all in my power to see
your Esther. But be cautious. Haman hates thy race: he and his colleagues
will shortly pass to the palace. Hark—they come! I must to my post.
[He takes his stand on the upper end of the Porch.]
[Enter Bigthana, Teresh, and others—they pass over to the opposite side. Haman then enters—they pass him severally in front, and bow in the Eastern style, he regarding them inquisitively. When they are off Mordecai passes him quite erect—Haman stops him.]
Ham.
What art thou, who darest refuse
the homage due to the king's high minister?
Mor.
A man!
Ham.
Thou art a stranger, then, as
thou dost not conform to our custom. Where is thy country?
Mor.
I have no country—the settled
land of my forefathers has been basely wrested from me and all my race.
Ham.
I see—you are a Jew.
Mor.
Yes, a Jew—and proud of
the name.
Ham.
Methinks it is but a poor boon
to be proud of—to have no acknowledged country—to be a wandering
race—a marked people as objects for scorn.
Mor.
It is not so. We are a disjointed
nation, 'tis true—but who should be the objects of scorn—the humble
sufferers, or the tyrant robbers?
Ham.
Oh, no, you mistake, rash and
unthinking man! 'Tis not an usurping power we possess, but a right of superiority
over a fallen people. For what are ye? a groveling crew—a money-hoarding
herd! too lazy for bodily exercise, and too weak in intellect to rule the
state.
Mor.
Your guards are near—you
can call the tools of tyranny—you may drag me to your cells of misery,
if I raise my voice to vindicate my race—but, proud wretch, I shall
yet live to see thy prostration.
Ham.
Weak words, from a still weaker
source. I will not call my guards—fear not that: so let thy envy burst
forth—perhaps 'twill ease thine heart—and when all the bodyless
smoke has dispelled, 'twill only leave you, like your people, weaker by
exertion, and faint, after having achieved—nothing.
Mor.
Your cool sneers shall be answered.
Are we not shut out from all exercise of our talents in the state? are not
even your common artisanships debarred us? and when deprived of this, our
honest endeavors are called groveling, and a thirst for gold? Are we not
equal to you in manly firmness? are not our women surpassing in their beauty
and virtue? When were we called feeble?—was it when our nation gave
laws to the world?—or was it when a few of our remaining heroes beat
your countrymen in their own native land, and trampled the Amalekite blood
into their parent soil?
Ham.
Mark me, Jew—and be it a lesson
to thee and all thy race. Thy virulent expressions are useless now. I have
observed many fools like thyself who mouth and fume about oppression, and
pristine rights. Rights, forsooth! Noble exertions and superior tact are the
bulwarks of national independence and grandeur. These are the rocks of public
safety; and whilst they hold together, not all the empty oratory, or pretty
whims of would-be rulers can shake it. Though in a moment the guards, by my
order, might place thee in a dungeon, from that I have refrained. Now listen
in calmness. Not only on thee, but all thy race, shall my vengeance be directed!
In silence shall the decree be formed that will exterminate thee and all thy
hated people! [Scene closes on them.]
Scene 4
[A Front Chamber. Enter Mordecai and Barnazabus.]
Mor.
Explain, young man. Why this
apparent mystery—why are you so anxious, and fear to be overheard?
Bar.
Because we are in the abode of
treachery and guilt.
Mor.
How know you this?
Bar.
I overheard a dark conspiracy
against the life of Ahasuerus—planned by that man who now basks in
the sun of royal favour—the treacherous Haman!
Mor.
Ah! is it him? I marvel not that
he who could insult a fallen people, should prove a traitor to his sovereign!
But say, good Barnazabus, what plan can we adopt to crush this hideous project?
Bar.
The conspirators are to appear
among the guests at the coronation of the queen. They will have daggers
concealed beneath their garments, but the death blow will not be struck
till all strangers have retired. You must come disguised among the guests:
I will admit you, and at the fitting time you must point out the traitors
to the king.
Mor.
It shall be so, I will unmask
the plotting infidel! Yes, I may yet behold the fall of him who dared exult
in our nation's misery!
Bar.
My services are wanted in the
apartment of Teresh. Come with me, and we can arrange our plans.
Mor.
I trust myself to thy prudence.
Let us be firm in our resolve, and Heaven will aid our cause, and crush the
guilt and treachery of our foes! [Exeunt.]
Scene 5
[Splendid Hall in the Palace of Suza. A magnificent Eastern Procession, with a Brass Band. The King and Queen in their Royal Robes—the Crown carried before them. The whole on a splendid scale. When the King and Queen reach the Throne, the following Anthem is sung].
Hail, fair Queen of Persia's
land,
Nations bow at thy command;
Hark! thy praises rend the air,
While the festal rings prepare.
Hail, Esther, hail!
Like a palm, in glorious pride,
Sits our monarch by her side—
See
the brilliant diadem now,
Glitter on her queenly brow,
Hail, Esther, hail!
[The Crown and Sceptre is bestowed in form on Esther. Flourish and shout. A Grand Ballet then takes place. The Seasons enter separately, and place their Offerings at the foot of the Throne. Last of all, Mordecai, disguised as Winter, with an Urn of Fire. He pays his homage—at the end of which, in a tremulous tone, he addresses the King and Queen.]
Mor.
Hail to the mighty sovereigns
of Persia! I see the offerings of others at thy feet, while I have no gifts
to lay before thy throne. Behold me shivering as the chill northern blast,
that robs the grove of its fragrant verdure—cold and cheerless as
the sweeping wind which driveth the sands of the desert—yet I can
give thee counsel needful as the glowing of the noon-day sun. Will the queen
Esther deign to hear me?
Aha.
What says my lovely queen—wilt
thou listen to this mysterious voice?
Est.
So please, my royal lord, I will.
[Esther descends from the Throne, and advances to the front with
Mordecai.]
Mor.
Dost thou, in this hall of infidels,
retain thy love for thy unhappy race?
Est.
I do, by heaven!
Mor.
[Raising his Mask.] Then
take my blessing.
Est.
My uncle!
Mor.
Breathe not my name within this
hall, but hear me. There is treason against the life of thy sovereign lord
and husband. The conspirators are here, on the king's right hand—they
are all armed. If thou wouldst save his life, inform him quickly, and all
may yet be well—away! [Esther ascends the Throne and communes
with the King. Mordecai replaces his Mask, and retires among the Guests.
Music.]
Aha.
[Rising.] Secure the gates!
Let none retire, on pain of instant death—there is treason against our
royal person! Guards, secure them! [Points to the Conspirators—the
Guards seize them, and pull the Daggers from under their Garments. At the
discovery, Haman darts forward, and in a hurried and earnest moment
exclaims—]
Ham.
Base wretches, and traitors to
our loving king and queen?
Conspirators.
Haman!
Ham.
Silence, base curs, that dare
to howl at royalty! On the wheel shall your vile limbs be broken—your
traitor hearts dashed in your faces—your burned ashes given to the
howling hurricanes of the desert—and not a vestige shall remain of
ye but your accursed memory to fright posterity!
Consp.
Remember, Ham—
Ham.
[Very violently.] Another
word, and your vile tongues shall be torn from their roots! My loved sovereign—on
this bright occasion of joy, let not paltry knaves like these, and their
futile plot, disconcert your peace, or disturb your royal consort. To my
love and zeal confide. Give this vile herd to my judgment: the terrors of
the law shall be stretched to meet their damnable resolve.
Aha.
This day of joy and love shall
not be interrupted by any alloy. In thy vigilance I will confidently repose;
and let our priests place on record in our chronicle the name of him who
unfolded this plot.
Mor.
My liege—
Aha.
I'll hear no more to mar our
royal queen's tranquillity!
Ham.
[Spiritedly.] The king
demands silence! You shall be revered and honoured, but now retire.
Mor.
My royal liege—
Ham.
[Stopping him.] Away! Take
those traitors to a dungeon. Away—away! [He forces Mordecai
out violently. The festivities again commence. The Act Drop falls on a Grand
and Joyous Tableau.]
END OF ACT THE SECOND
