THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 DISCARDED 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 
 FOR THE 
 ENGLISH READING ROOM
 
 M
 
 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 A Dramatic Poem by 
 
 GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM LESSING 
 
 Translated by 
 ELLEN T FROTHINGHAM 
 
 PRECEDED BY A BRIEF ACCOUNT OI" 
 THE POET AND HIS WORKS 
 
 AND FOLLOWED BT AN 
 
 ESSAY ON THE POEM 
 
 BY KUNO riSCHEB 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 LEYPOLDT & HOLT. 
 
 1868.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, 
 
 BY LEYPOLDT & HOLT, 
 
 In the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 LITTLE, REXNIE A Co., Rtereotypers, Printed by 
 
 NEW YORK. THK NEW YOKK PRIXTIXG Co
 
 English 
 Reading Room 
 
 1261 
 
 PUBLISHERS NOTICE. 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE is the third of a uniform series 
 of great foreign poems which the publishers have 
 lately begun to issue. The first one was KING 
 RENE S DAUGHTER, from the Danish, which is now 
 in the second edition. It was followed by FRITHIOF S 
 SAGA, the national epic of Sweden, edited by Bayard 
 Taylor. The fourth of the series, SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE KALEVALA, the national epic of Finland, trans 
 lated from a close German version by the late Pro 
 fessor John A. Porter, of Yale College, will be ready 
 for publication a few days after the issue of the 
 present volume. Others will be added as rapidly 
 as the public appreciation may warrant. Among 
 those in contemplation are Calderon s LIFE is A 
 DREAM ; Tasso s AMINTA, translated by Leigh Hunt ; 
 THE WOOING OF THE KING S DAUGHTER, from the 
 Norwegian of Muench ; BORIS GODOUNOFF, from 
 the Russian of Pouschkine ; NALA AND DAMAJANTI,
 
 iv PUBLISHER? NOTICE. 
 
 translated from the Sanscrit by Milman ; a transla 
 tion of Bodenstedt s version of the Turkish songs 
 of Mirza Scruffy, and an English version of the 
 Sakoontala. 
 
 With the exception of Goethe s FAUST, there is no 
 poem in German literature which has received so 
 much special study as NATHAN THE WISE, or which 
 has so well rewarded it. Probably the best critical 
 monograph which it has generated is the essay by 
 Kuno Fischer. This has been translated by the 
 translator of the poem, pruned of some of its Ger 
 man redundancy, and put into a form better suited 
 than the original one, to the Anglo-Saxon require 
 ments of terseness and directness. The modified 
 version will be found at the end of this volume.
 
 SKETCH OF LESSING. 
 
 " IF God held all truth shut in his right hand, 
 and in his left nothing but the ever-restless instinct 
 for truth, though with the condition of for ever 
 and ever erring, and should say to me, Choose ! I 
 would bow reverently to his left hand, and say, 
 Father, give ! Pure truth is for Thee alone !" 
 
 Two years ago, it would have been safe to say 
 that a vague recollection of having somewhere seen 
 a sentence like the one we have quoted, was all the 
 knowledge of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing possessed 
 by the majority of educated Americans. Of course 
 there are men who have long known and appre 
 ciated him ; but the number of such is surprisingly 
 small. He has not had one reader where Goethe, 
 or Schiller, or Jean Paul, has had a hundred. The 
 only one of his works yet published in this country 
 is Minna von Barnhelm surely not his most char 
 acteristic production and this was reprinted by a
 
 vi SKETCH OF LESSING. 
 
 publisher of school-books from an English edition 
 adapted for the use of students of German. It is 
 but a year since Mr. Spencer published Professor 
 Evans excellent translation of Stahr s Life of Les- 
 sing. The criticisms which the volume received, 
 clearly displayed the ignorance existing in regard to 
 its subject. Among the few notable exceptions were 
 a short notice in the Nation, and an article in the 
 North American Review for April, 1867, by Professor 
 Lowell, in which he gave an admirable sketch of 
 Lessing s life and character. A Review, pub 
 lished in New York, contained an essay, the first 
 half of which was translated from the Kouvelk Bio- 
 graphie Generate, and the other half taken from Ap- 
 pleton s Cyclopaedia, As far as we have been able to 
 learn, the American press has supplied little more 
 than these meagre materials for a knowledge of that 
 great and unique man. 
 
 The neglect that he has received cannot be ac 
 counted for by any proportionate inferiority to his 
 better known countrymen. He was the generator 
 of modern German literature, and it is not on the 
 partly accidental position of a pioneer that his 
 claims rest. He had a greatness of his own, whose 
 half prophetic character does much to explain 
 the neglect which has fallen upon it. The hack 
 neyed term, "in advance of his age," has a very 
 deep significance when applied to him. But we are 
 beginning to catch up with him, and the peculiar
 
 SKETCH OF LESSING. vil 
 
 progress of our _ people has already made them 
 specially fitted for his teachings. 
 
 For a knowledge of the poet and his other works, 
 we recommend the sources already named. We 
 have gleaned from them, for the benefit of readers 
 unwise enough to slight this recommendation, the 
 facts embodied in the following sketch. 
 
 On the 22d of January, 1729, Deacon, afterward 
 Pastor Primarius, John Gottfried Lessing, of Ka- 
 menz, in Upper Lusatia, rejoiced, it is to be sup 
 posed, over the birth of his eldest son. The little 
 Lessing began life with a line of ancestors at his 
 back who, through scholarly attainments and lib 
 eral ideas, legitimately gave him the power which 
 afterward made him great. For half-a-dozen gen 
 erations, his family had been one of jurists, curates, 
 and burgomasters. His grandfather s thesis, on 
 taking his degree of Doctor of Laws, was, " De 
 Religionum Toleranlia." Added to the boy s other 
 inherited conditions, was a fine physical consti 
 tution. 
 
 When Lessing was about twelve years old, the 
 rector of the Kamenz public school, where Lessing 
 went, published an article defending the theme that 
 "The Stage is a School of Eloquence." This 
 brought all the big-wigs of the town down upon 
 him. Pastor Primarius Lessing assailed his prin 
 ciples in the pulpit, and at last he had to leave the 
 place. A friend of his Mylius by name, whom
 
 Vlll SKETCH OF LESSIXG. 
 
 we shall meet again wrote a satirical poem on 
 the circumstance, in consequence of which he was 
 imprisoned, forced to apologize, and fined. This 
 affair probably presented the Stage for the first 
 time to the notice of the future founder of the 
 German drama. The immediate effect was, that 
 he had to go to another school that of St. Afra, 
 established by the Elector Maurice of Saxony, in 
 Meissen. On the 2ist of June, 1841, a festival was 
 held at that same school, in honor of the cen 
 tennial anniversary of Lessing s entrance. The old 
 pastor took him there to have him prepared for the 
 ministry. After Lessing left, he said that he had 
 "already at Meissen understood how one must learn 
 much there which one cannot use in the world." 
 That was more than a hundred years ago. Perhaps 
 schools have changed since then. At Meissen, 
 Lessing s favorite authors were Theophrastus, Plau- 
 tus, and Terence, and he said that he got self- 
 knowledge by reading "comedies." At this school 
 he wrote parts of a poem "On the Plurality of 
 Worlds." One expression in it is "They make 
 glorious shipwreck who are lost in seeking worlds." 
 He also began his first dramatic work a comedy 
 "The Young Scholar," of which he says that at 
 that time, when he "knew men only from books, 
 a young scholar was the only species of fool" which 
 he could not have been unacquainted with. 
 
 In September, 1846, when he was seventeen years
 
 SKETCH OF LESSING. ix 
 
 old, he entered the University of Leipzic. While 
 there, he studied the literature of the ancients with 
 an interest far removed from the pedantic study of 
 their languages then in \ogue. He was also one of 
 a little coterie who talked philosophy with Kaestner, 
 a young professor of great talent and enthusiasm. 
 The world of Leipzic made Lessing realize, as he 
 wrote to his mother, that "books might make 
 him learned, but would never make him a man." 
 He felt himself pedantic, awkward, and boorish; 
 and in order to correct these defects, learned dan 
 cing, fencing, and riding, and sought society. The 
 theatre at once attracted him. He became ac 
 quainted with Madame Neuber, the head of the 
 dramatic company a woman who, Lessing says, 
 "had-manly views, and a perfect knowledge of her 
 art." Meanwhile, he had fallen in with Mylius, 
 the youth who got put in prison for his poem, who 
 became a strong influence in directing the course 
 of Lessing s life. Mylius was now one of the little 
 philosophical coterie gathered about Professor Kaest 
 ner ; he was a man of great talent, very unorthodox 
 opinions, and irregular life. He published popu 
 lar journals on scientific subjects, for which Lessing 
 occasionally wrote poetic burlesques of scientific 
 discussions. This man led Lessing more among 
 the stage-people, and Lessing, of course, fell in 
 love, very platonically, we are assured, with one of 
 the young actresses. These associations led him to
 
 X SKETCH OF LESSING. 
 
 finish "The Young Scholar," and it was played 
 with great success by Madame Neuber s company. 
 
 It is not much to the discredit of the poor old 
 Pastor Primarius that, in an age when actors were 
 considered too vile for Christian burial, he thought 
 that, in such company, his son was going to per 
 dition. He pretended that Lessing s mother was 
 dying, and sent for him to come to her. A heavy 
 frost set in after the mailing of the letter, and Les- 
 sing started without waiting for winter clothing. 
 The parents were softened when their boy stood 
 before them shivering with the severe cold, and he 
 was made welcome. After three months, he went 
 back to college. His parents considering that .he 
 had dwelt so long in the tents of the ungodly that 
 it would be a desecration of the priestly office for 
 him to embrace it, tried to make him a student of 
 medicine. He yielded so far as to attend several 
 courses of medical lectures. 
 
 Madame Neuber s theatre was soon broken up, 
 and Lessing had gone security for so many of the 
 debts of the actors, that, as no help could be looked 
 for from home, he was obliged to leave Leip- 
 zic. Going to Berlin, where Mylius was already 
 editing a paper, he concluded to abandon study, 
 and to try to relieve himself from his debts with 
 his pen. 
 
 Mylius did all he could for his friend, not stop 
 ping short at real sacrifices. But the influence of
 
 SKETCH OF LESS ING. XI 
 
 "the free-thinker" was greatly dreaded by the good 
 people at Kamenz, and they were further exercised 
 by frequent rumors of their son s predilection for 
 the stage. Their letters were full of urging to leave 
 Berlin, and complaints at his course of life and 
 irreligious opinions. A few sentences from his re 
 plies will throw light on some points in his charac 
 ter. I shall not return home, neither shall I go 
 to any university ; because my stipends " (allow 
 ances made by his native town for the support of a 
 few of its young men at a university) "are not suffi 
 cient to pay my debts, and I cannot ask the neces 
 sary sum of you. . . . Wherever I may be, I 
 shall continue to write, and I shall never forget the 
 benefits I have so long received at your hands. 
 The Christian religion is not a thing thai 
 ought to be received on trust from one s parents. The 
 great mass of mankind, it is true, inherit it as they 
 do their property ; but their conduct shows what 
 Christians they are. " The ideas in this latter para 
 graph are common-place enough now, but Lessing 
 wrote them in Germany a hundred and twenty years 
 ago, when he was twenty years old. 
 
 With the exception of part of 1752, spent in Wit 
 tenberg in studying for his degree of Master of 
 Arts, the next ten years were mainly passed in 
 Berlin. 
 
 Lessing began work in Berlin by making trans 
 lations from the modern languages. He knew
 
 Xll SKETCH OF LESSING. 
 
 French, Spanish, Italian, and English. Soon he 
 founded, in connection with Mylius, a periodical 
 devoted to dramatic subjects, ancient as well as 
 modern. He withdrew from this publication be 
 cause Mylius was ignorant enough to assert in it 
 that there had been no Italian drama. He then 
 began writing for Voss s Gazelle. By this time he 
 began to attract attention. German criticism was 
 divided between the followers of Gottsched, who in 
 sisted on exact imitation in form and fact, and the 
 Zurich school, who set no bounds to the imagina 
 tion. Lessing struck out a new path, by declaring 
 that there are no a priori principles in art, that the 
 only established canons are those that can be in 
 duced from works of art already existing, and that a 
 fresh genius gives material for fresh canons. In 
 other words, he applied to art the experience 
 principle of philosophy. He began hitting hard 
 blows at the pedantry as well as the sentimentalism 
 of the time, and directed them particularly against 
 the French influence which was spreading both. 
 The French classic drama was the model in Ger 
 many, and it was believed that classic themes were 
 the only ones for tragedy. Lessing s English culture 
 showed him so many illustrations of the falsity of 
 this view, that he hunted out the principles which 
 prove that man at one time is as much a subject 
 for art as at another that the soul of man, and not 
 his surroundings, is the seat of all that is great in
 
 SKETCH OF LESSING. xiii 
 
 dramatic poetry. In illustration of his realistic prin 
 ciples, he wrote, in 1753-5, "Miss Sara Sampson" 
 a tragedy in prose, the scene laid in England, and 
 the time contemporaneous. The play was a suc 
 cess, and emancipated the German playwrights from 
 their previous limitations. 
 
 Carrying the same disregard of precedent and the 
 same adherence to broad principles, into religion, 
 he began quite early in his Berlin career to strike 
 out such thoughts as these: "Well-doing is the 
 main thing: belief is secondary. 1 . . . " It is not 
 agreement in opinions, but agreement in virtuous 
 actions, that renders the world virtuous and happy." 
 Of a romance whose scene was laid in Constanti 
 nople, he said: "If a pious Moslem should read 
 the book, he would constantly be constrained to cry 
 out, What blasphemies ! and yet it is these very 
 blasphemies which will edify many an honest Chris 
 tian." Nor did his religious views stop short of 
 self-application. He carried about in his poverty 
 a calm, cheerful philosophy, which prevented his 
 believing that "one should thank God only for 
 good things," and led him to believe that in man 
 "it does not concern his conscience how useful 
 he is, but how useful he would be." Lessing fur 
 ther carried out his healthy ideas against the licen 
 tiousness creeping into literature from the French 
 influence. The central point of his theories of suc 
 cess in art was the character of the artist,. To one
 
 XIV SKETCH OF LESSING. 
 
 trying to write for the stage, he says, "Study ethics, 
 . . . cultivate your own character. " 
 
 His mode of life during these years must be 
 judged with reference to the current views of the 
 age. He was temperately fond of his wine-cellar, 
 as the most sedate Germans are to-day, but he 
 gambled a great deal harder than present ideas ap 
 prove. He continued this practice for many years, 
 and said that "the eager attention which he gave 
 the faro-table set his clogged machine in motion 
 brought the stagnant juices into circulation." There 
 is no evidence that he gambled for gain, and all his 
 views and generous habits forbid such a supposi 
 tion. 
 
 He had not been in Berlin long before he began 
 to make valuable friendships. Among the best and 
 most enduring were those with Nicolai and Moses 
 Mendelssohn the father of Felix. The friendship 
 with Mendelssohn was life-long, and naturally has 
 given rise to the notion that in Nathan the Wise, 
 Lessing intended to portray his Jewish friend. Not 
 only w y as he honored in these great friends, but was 
 likewise honored in a still greater enemy Voltaire. 
 The acrid philosopher was then engaged in his dis 
 graceful lawsuit with Hirsch, and employed Lessing 
 to translate some of the papers into German. This 
 drew Lessing into Voltaire s society daily for some 
 time. Lessing learned how to appreciate him ; 
 but he was not the man to appreciate Lessing :
 
 SKETCH OF LESSING. XV 
 
 and when Lessing borrowed from his secretary the 
 manuscript of the newly completed Stick de Louis 
 XIV., Voltaire finding it out, feared some trans 
 lating and reprinting plot. He wrote two insult 
 ing letters to Lessing, and received the replies he 
 merited. This little affair naturally did not tend 
 to soften the criticism which Lessing always felt it 
 his duty to give Voltaire s imaginative writings, but 
 it can hardly be regretted if it had any influence 
 in inspiring what sometimes seems the best bon mot 
 in all literature. Nicolai once said to Lessing, 
 " You must admit that Voltaire has lately said many 
 new and good things." "Certainly," answered 
 Lessing, "but the new things are not good, and 
 the good things are not new." 
 
 In 1760, Lessing was driven by his poverty to ac 
 cept a position as assistant of General Von Tauen- 
 zien, the director of Frederic s Mint at Breslau. Up 
 to this time, his writings had consisted almost en 
 tirely of special criticisms and polemic letters. His 
 only other works had been his Fabeln, the beautiful 
 little tragedy of Philotas, and two dramas on the 
 subject of Faust one of which is lost, and the 
 other exists but in fragments. At Breslau he re 
 mained five years. He was in comparative pros 
 perity, though not as great as it might have been 
 had he not used his knowledge of the mint opera 
 tions most conscientiously. His peace of mind 
 had two drawbacks his family, who made the
 
 XVI SKETCH OF LESSING. 
 
 most shameless demands on his finances, which he 
 was too tender-hearted to treat wisely; and his Berlin 
 friends, who bewailed his absence from them as a 
 waste of time, and said that without him they could 
 not continue the "Letters on Literature," which 
 had been the most important vehicles of German 
 criticism. His life seems to have been full of di 
 version and full of work. Goethe says that Lessing 
 was fond of casting off personal dignity, because he 
 was confident that he could resume it at any time ; 
 and delighted at that period to lead a dissipated 
 life in taverns and society, since he needed con 
 stantly a strong counterpoise to his powerfully labo 
 rious soul." The fact that his soul was "powerfully 
 laborious" during the Breslau period, is proven by 
 the production of the first works that support his 
 enduring fame Minna von Barnhelm a military 
 drama, founded on his army associations, among 
 which had been his presence at the siege of Schweid- 
 nitz, and the Laokoon one of the greatest syste 
 matic treatises on art criticism in existence. 
 
 During the summer of 1764, when he was thirty- 
 five years old, Lessing broke down into an inflamma 
 tory fever. It was his first hard sickness. When 
 convalescing, 1 e wrote : " I hope that this will soon 
 pass away, and then I shall be as new-born. All 
 changes of our temperament, I believe, are con 
 nected with the processes of our animal economy. 
 The crisis of my life approaches ; I begin to be a
 
 SKETCH OF LESSING. XVii 
 
 man, and flatter myself that in this burning fever I 
 have raved away the last trace of my youthful follies. 
 . . You wish me to be healthy ; but ought poets 
 to wish for robust health ? The Horaces dwell in 
 feeble bodies, the healthy Lessings become game 
 sters and tipplers. Yet wish me healthy, dear friend ; 
 but, if possible, healthy with a slight memento, a 
 thorn in the flesh, which shall make the poet feel 
 from time to time the frailty of the man. " 
 
 The next year Lessing returned to Berlin, bringing 
 with him nothing but a library, which he aftenvard 
 sold at a great sacrifice. He fought poverty with 
 his pen for a couple of years, was disappointed in 
 an effort to get the place of royal librarian from 
 Frederic, and in 1767 accepted the position of 
 theatre director at Hamburg. This led to his writ 
 ing a series of dramatic essays, preserved under the 
 title of Dramaturgic. Its position among works of 
 dramatic criticism is not unworthy of comparison 
 ,ith the place which the Laokoon occupies in rela 
 tion to art in general. At the close of the Drama 
 turgic he expresses the following interesting estimate 
 of his own powers : "I am neither actor nor poet. 
 . . . I do not feel in myself the living fountain 
 which lifts itself by its own strength, and by its own 
 strength sports and spreads in radiations so rich, so 
 fresh, so pure ! With me it is all squeezing and 
 pumping ! I should be altogether poor, and cold, 
 and short-sighted, did I not know how to borrow
 
 XV111 SKETCH OF LESSING. 
 
 occasionally, with discretion, from foreign treasures, 
 to warm myself at another man s fire, and to 
 strengthen my sight with the optic glasses of art. I 
 have, therefore, always been ashamed and angry 
 when I have heard or read anything derogatory to 
 criticism. Criticism, it is said, stifles genius ; 
 whereas I flatter myself that I have received from it 
 something that comes very near to genius." Yet, 
 Goethe said, " Lessing wished to disclaim the title 
 of poet, but his immortal works testify against him 
 self." 
 
 The author of the Dramaturgic found it impossible 
 to keep peace in the theatrical camp while he indulged 
 in special criticism ; and after he had expressed his 
 views on the general principles of dramatic art, there 
 was no further practicable field for his efforts. A 
 publishing enterprise, into which he had gone, 
 failed, and left him in debt. His works were 
 bringing him nothing ; in no small degree because 
 they could be reprinted and re-acted in every petty 
 province of Germany without the author receiving 
 any reward ; for the German nations were no 
 nearer a civilized position regarding international 
 copyright, a hundred years ago, than the United 
 States of America are to-day. 
 
 Relief, however, seemed at hand. Frederick 
 William Ferdinand, Duke of Brunswick, a literary 
 toady, heard that such an ornamental appendage 
 to his court as Lessing would make, could be had
 
 SKETCH OF LESSING, xix 
 
 cheap, and offered him the positon of librarian at 
 Wolfenbtlttel, at a very modest salary. Lessingwas 
 now about forty years old, and his poverty was the 
 more irksome because he wished to marry. In 
 Hamburg, he was a favored friend in the family of 
 a certain Konig, and there is reason to believe that 
 he had to smother a feeling toward his friend s wife, 
 which, as it appeared hopeless, made him desirous 
 of leaving the city. But his friend Konig died in 
 1769, and within a reasonable time Lessing and Eva 
 Konig were engaged. These circumstances made 
 him ready to accept a fixed occupation, even to the 
 prejudice of his literary pursuits, and he accepted 
 the duke s offer. 
 
 The residence at Wolfenbuttel occupied six years 
 that were anything but happy. The place was un 
 healthy, he had no congenial society, was liable to 
 interruption at all times, had to do an immense 
 amount of purely routine work, and was constantly 
 sick at heart from hope deferred. The letters pass 
 ing between him and Eva are full of the most beau 
 tiful sincerity, unselfishness, and common sense 
 regarding all matters of the intellect and emotions ; 
 but they are not the letters of people possessing a 
 healthy capacity for cutting the gordian knots of 
 circumstances. 
 
 Konig s affairs were left in such a complicated 
 condition that it was hard to settle his estate for the 
 best advantage of his wife and four children, and
 
 XX SKETCH OF LESSING. 
 
 Eva felt that she ought not to marry while the 
 finances of the little ones were in such an uncertain 
 condition. Lessing, on his part, had little more to 
 depend upon than the illusive promises by which 
 the Duke kept him in his place. 
 
 Six years wore away in separation and anxious 
 uncertainty. As may be imagined, they were not 
 very productive years for Lessing. During them he 
 gave to the world the Wolfenbiittel Fragments, " 
 which led to the controversy with Gotze. This affair 
 is described in the essay at the end of this volume. 
 He also finished Emilia Galotli* a tragedy that he 
 had begun fifteen years before, while he was warm 
 with enthusiasm for the regeneration of dramatic art. 
 The motive of this tragedy is that of Virginius ap 
 plied to modern circumstances. In dramatic merit, 
 it is Lessing s best production, and it is at the same 
 time a consistent embodiment and beautiful illus 
 tration of those principles of dramatic art, of which, 
 considering his time and circumstances, he may be 
 called a creator. 
 
 In 1775, Lessing went into Italy with the crown- 
 prince of Brunswick, and was received everywhere 
 with great attention. In Vienna, Emilia Galolli was 
 played, and the poet was received with an ovation. 
 Maria Theresa sent for him, and sought his opin 
 ions regarding the intellectual development of the 
 
 * Now while we write, this play, in the original German, is on the 
 programme of the leading theatre in New York.
 
 SKETCH OF LESSING. XXI 
 
 empire. At Rome, he was presented to the Pope, 
 and treated by the dignitaries in a manner which 
 contrasted honorably with his treatment by eminent 
 persons at home. 
 
 In 1776, he returned to Wolfenbtittel, and he and 
 Eva were married. She was worthy of him, and he 
 seemed entering on a new career of usefulness and 
 happiness. In a year a son was born, but he lived 
 only a day, and his mother died a few days after. 
 This is the first overwhelming sorrow we know of in 
 Lessing s life. To our mind, nothing in all the 
 letters he wrote at the time reveals its intensity so 
 much as this: "I was so sorry to lose him, this 
 son, for he had so much sense ! so much sense ! 
 Do not think that my few hours of fatherhood have 
 already made me such an ape of a father ! I know 
 what I say ! Did it not show his sense that they 
 were obliged to draw him into the world with for 
 ceps? that he so soon became disgusted with his 
 new abode ? Was he not wise in seizing the first 
 opportunity to make off again ?" We hope 
 
 that not many of our readers know what this ten 
 dency to turn one s own sorrow into a jest means. 
 Shakspeare knew it : if he did not, he could not 
 have written this strange passage in Hamlet : 
 
 Gfwst [be neat fi]. Swear! 
 
 Hamlet. Ah, ha, boy ! say st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny ? 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 Ghost [beneath]. Swear! 
 Hamlet. Well said, old mole ! Canst work i th ground so fast ?
 
 XX 11 SKETCH OF LESSIXG. 
 
 The death of Lessing s wife re-made him. There 
 after, the dominant passion in his heart was not 
 criticism, but sympathy. But he was dragged into 
 controversy, and he had not lost the old heroic 
 nature which made him, early in life, say that he 
 never was at his best unless against an antagonist. 
 Yet his fighting, and nearly all else that he did, 
 was directly intended to promote the spiritual and 
 moral progress of mankind. He devoted himself 
 more to the profound questions of philosophy, and 
 seems to have reached that plane of thought and 
 interests which lies at the foundation of all other 
 human effort. But little more than three years were 
 left him. They were full of loneliness, though not 
 from lack of friends, and of privation and weariness. 
 Here are a few passages in one of his letters to 
 Eliza Reimarus : "I must pay dearly for a single 
 year that I lived with a rational woman. I must 
 sacrifice all, all, in order not to expose myself to a 
 suspicion which is utterly intolerable to me." In 
 this, he alluded to his having again gone into debt 
 for the sake of securing his wife s property to her 
 children. "How often," he continues, "do I feel 
 tempted to curse the day when I even once wished 
 to be as happy as other people !" . . . "Yet I am 
 too proud to acknowledge myself unhappy only 
 set the teeth, and let the boat drift at the mercy of 
 the winds and waves. Enough that I will not upset 
 it myself." But to the outer world, he was very calm
 
 SKETCH OF LESSINO. XX111 
 
 and strong. While these great forces were tugging 
 at his soul, he produced "Nathan the Wise" a 
 poem worthy of such a birth, and probably impossi 
 ble without it. During these last years, he also wrote 
 the "Five Conversations, for Freemasons," in which 
 he expressed his ideas of government and society, 
 and "The Education of the Human Race," in 
 which he stated his views of religious development. 
 The first of the three is here to speak for itself. The 
 other two are full of pregnant ideas, and, indeed, 
 the very title of the latter was considered a happy em 
 bodiment of suggestive thought when it reappeared, 
 a few years since, in Essays and Reviews. " 
 
 Lessing died while on a visit to Brunswick, on 
 the fifteenth of February, 1781. The newspapers 
 in Hamburg were forbidden to publish anything in 
 his praise, and the clergy endeavored to prevent a 
 public ceremony in honor of his memory. Thus 
 he shared the fate which, so far, has been appointed 
 for the great Teachers. While it cannot be claimed 
 that his labors are to be classed with those of the 
 few men who are universally honored as finders of 
 fundamental truths, the attainments he did make, 
 after having forced his path through the errors of 
 a strangely artificial and distorted age, give room to 
 believe that had he been left to live a rounded life, 
 he would have placed himself among those who are 
 remembered not only always, but everywhere. 
 
 H. H.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 SULTAN SALADIN. 
 
 SITTAH, hie Sister. 
 
 NATHAN, a rich Jew of Jerusalem. 
 
 RECHA, his adopted Daughter. 
 
 DAJA, a Christian woman, living in the Jew s 
 
 house as Recha s companion. 
 A Young Templar. 
 A Dervise. 
 
 The Patriarch of Jerusalem. 
 A Lay-Brother. 
 An Emir. 
 Mamelukes in Saladin s service. 
 
 The scene is in Jerusalem.
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A Hall in Nathan s House. 
 NATHAN returning from a journey. DAJA meeting him. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Tis he ; tis Nathan ! God be ever praised 
 That you re returned to us again at last ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Ay, Daja ; God be praised ! But why " at last ?" 
 Was it my purpose to have come before ? 
 Could I have come before ? for Babylon 
 Is from Jerusalem, as I was forced 
 To travel, turning oft to right and left, 
 A good two hundred leagues. Collecting debts, 
 Besides, is not a work to be dispatched 
 In haste, or easily turned off. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Oh, Nathan, 
 
 What misery, what misery meanwhile 
 Might have befallen you here ! Your house
 
 4 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Took fire, 
 
 That have I heard already. God but grant 
 I ve heard the whole ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 And might have easily 
 Been leveled with the ground. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then had we built 
 Another and a better. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 True ; but Recha, 
 Within a hairbreadth was she burned to death. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Burned! who? my Recha? That I had not 
 
 heard. 
 
 Why, then, a house I should no more have needed. 
 Within a hairbreadth burned to death ! She was 
 Was burned to death ! Speak out speak out, I say ! 
 Slay me and torture me no longer ! Yes, 
 She has been burned to death ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 And if she were, 
 Should I be telling it ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Why fright me then ? 
 O Recha ! O mv Recha !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 5 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Yours your Recha ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 God grant I ne er may have to unlearn the use 
 Of calling her my child ! . 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 And call you all 
 That you possess, with equal right your own ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Naught with a greater. All I else possess 
 Has been bestowed by Nature and by Fortune. 
 This is the only gift I owe to Virtue. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 O Nathan, what a price you make me pay 
 For all your kindness ! if aught exercised 
 From such a motive can be called a kindness. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 From such a motive ? What F 
 DAJA. 
 
 My conscience 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Daja, 
 Let me but tell you first 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 I say my conscience 
 i*
 
 6 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What stuffs in Babylon I bought for you ! 
 So precious and so tasteful. Recha s own 
 Are scarcely fairer. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 All in vain. My conscience, 
 I tell you, will no more be lulled to sleep. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And how you will delight in all the jewels, 
 The rings, the clasps, the ear-rings, and the chains, 
 That in .Damascus I selected for you, 
 I m eager to behold. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 How like yourself ! 
 You must be always giving, always giving. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Take gladly, as I give you, and be silent ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Be silent ! Doubts there any one that Nathan 
 Is honor, generosity itself? 
 And yet 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I m but a Jew. Is that your meaning ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 You know my meaning better.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. J 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then be silent. 
 DAJA. 
 
 I will be silent. What of guilt grow hence 
 In sight of God, which I cannot prevent, 
 I cannot change cannot, fall on your head. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Fall on my head ! But tell me where she is. 
 Where tarries she ? Ah, should you have deceived 
 
 me ! 
 Knows she I m here ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 I might retort the question. 
 Her every nerve still trembles with affright. 
 Her fancy colors with a glow of fire 
 Whate er it paints. In sleep her spirit wakes ; 
 Awake, it sleeps : inferior now to brutes, 
 Superior now to angels. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Ah, poor child ! 
 What are we men ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 This morning long she lay, 
 
 With eyelids closed, as she were dead. Then quick 
 Sprang up, cried, "Hark, my father s camels come! 
 Hark, his own gentle voice !" Then drooped again 
 Her eyelids, and, the arm s support withdrawn,
 
 8 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Her head once more fell back upon the pillows. 
 I hasted through the gate, and, lo ! twas you 
 Twas you, indeed, approaching ! And what won 
 der? 
 
 For her whole soul has since been but with you 
 And him. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And him ! What him ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Who from the fire 
 Preserved her. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Who was that ? Where is he now ? 
 Who was it that preserved my Recha for me ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 A Templar, who, some days before a prisoner, 
 Was hither brought, and pardoned by the Sultan. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 A Templar granted life by Saladin ? 
 Could no less miracle than this have saved 
 My Recha ? God ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 And but for him who risked 
 Again his unexpected boon, she had 
 Been lost. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Where is this noble man ? Where is he ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. g 
 
 Conduct me to his feet. Whatever treasure 
 Was left you, you bestowed on him at once ; 
 Gave all ; with promises of more much more? 
 
 DAJA. 
 How could we? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Did you not ? 
 DAJA. 
 
 He came, but whence 
 
 None knew ; he went, and whither none could tell. 
 A stranger to the house, his ear alone 
 To guide him, onward through the smoke and 
 
 flame, 
 
 With outstretched mantle, fearlessly he pressed 
 Toward the voice that cried to us for help. 
 Already had we given him up for lost, 
 When suddenly, out from the smoke and flame, 
 He stood before us, bearing her aloft 
 In his strong arms. By our exultant thanks 
 Unmoved, he laid his burden on the ground, 
 Pressed through the multitude his way, and vanished. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 But not, I hope, forever. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Many days 
 
 We saw him yonder, walking to and fro 
 Beneath the palms that shade the sepulchre
 
 IO XATJIAN THE WISE. 
 
 Of our ascended Lord. I went to him 
 
 With rapture; thanked him, praised, commanded, 
 
 begged 
 
 He would but once behold the grateful girl, 
 Who could not rest till at her savior s feet 
 She d wept her thanks. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Well ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Useless ; he was deaf 
 To our entreaties, and he poured, besides, 
 Such scorn upon me 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You were frightened off. 
 DAJA. 
 
 Nay ; anything but that. Day after day 
 I went to him again ; day after day 
 Let him again insult me. There is nothing 
 I ve not endured from him ; nothing that gladly 
 I d not have still endured. But long he s ceased 
 To walk beneath the palms that shade the grave 
 Of our ascended Lord, and no one knows 
 His dwelling-place. You are amazed ; you pon 
 der? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I ponder the effect this must produce 
 Upon a mird like Recha s. To be scorned
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. II 
 
 By one whom she is bound to prize so highly : 
 
 To be at once repelled and yet attracted. 
 
 Twixt head and heart long contest must ensue, 
 
 If sorrow or misanthropy shall conquer. 
 
 Oft neither triumphs, and imagination 
 
 Becoming party in the strife, creates 
 
 A dreamer, in whom now the head usurps 
 
 The place of heart, and now the heart plays head. 
 
 Sad interchange ! If I mistake not Recha, 
 
 The latter is her fate. She yields to fancies. 
 
 DAJA. 
 But then so pure, so lovely ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Fancies still. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Above the rest, one fancy, if you will 
 She cherishes. Her Templar, as she deems, 
 Is not a mortal being, not of earth. 
 One of the angels, to whose guardian care, 
 Her little heart from childhood fondly thought 
 Itself intrusted, stepped out from the cloud 
 Beneath whose veil he hitherto had hovered 
 About her even in the fire, and stood 
 Revealed as Templar. Do not smile ! Who knows ? 
 At least, if smile you must, do not destroy 
 A fancy shared alike by Christian, Jew, 
 And Mussulman, so beautiful a fancy. 

 
 12 NATHAN 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And beautiful to me. Go, trusty Daja, 
 See how she is if I may speak with her. 
 Then I will seek this freakish guardian angel ; 
 And if it be his pleasure still to dwell 
 Among us on the earth, and wear the guise 
 Of so unmannerly a knight, doubt not 
 I shall discover and conduct him hither. 
 
 DAJA. 
 You promise much. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Should then this sweet conceit 
 Be changed to sweeter truth for, trust me, Daja, 
 To human heart more dear is man than angel 
 You ll surely not with me with me be vexed 
 If so this angel-dreamer shall be cured. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 How good you are, and yet how bad withal ! 
 I go. But hark ! but see ! She comes herself. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 RECHA and the preceding, 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Is it in very truth yourself, my father ? 
 I thought you had but sent your voice before.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 13 
 
 Where tarry you ? What deserts or what moun 
 tains, 
 
 What rivers, separate us now ? One roof 
 Is o er us both, and yet you hasten not 
 To clasp your Recha, who was burned meanwhile ! 
 Poor Recha ! Almost, only almost burned. 
 Nay, shudder not ! Oh, tis an ugly death 
 To die by fire ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 My child ! my darling child ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 You had to cross the Euphrates, Tigris, Jordan, 
 Who knows how many more? Oft for your life 
 I trembled till the fire enveloped me ; 
 But since the fire enveloped me, to die 
 By water seems refreshment, solace, balm. 
 But you have not been drowned, nor I been burned. 
 We will rejoice, and give God thanks. He bore 
 Your boat and you upon the unseen wings 
 Of angels over all the faithless streams : 
 He bade my angel visibly unfold 
 His snowy wings, and bear me through the fire. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 (His snowy wings ! Ah, yes ; the Templar s mantle, 
 Outstretched and white.) 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Ay ; visibly to bear me
 
 14 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 From out the flames, fanned backward by his wings. 
 Thus have I seen an angel face to face 
 My guardian-angel. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Recha would be worth 
 An angel s visiting, and would in him 
 See naught more fair than he in her. 
 
 RECHA (smiling). 
 
 My father, 
 Whom flatter you the angel or yourself? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Had but a human being, such a man 
 As Nature daily grants, this service rendered, 
 He must for you have been an angel ; ay, 
 He must and would. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Not such an angel. No ; 
 This was in truth, in very truth an angel. 
 Have you yourself not taught me to believe 
 That angels are ; that God for them that love Him 
 Can yet work miracles ? I love Him. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yes; 
 
 And He loves you ; and hourly miracles 
 For you, and such as you, is working now ; 
 From all eternity has worked them for you.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 15 
 
 RECHA. 
 I love to hear it. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Natural it sounds 
 
 And commonplace to have a Templar save you ; 
 But is it therefore less a miracle ? 
 The greatest miracle of all is this : 
 That true and genuine miracles become 
 Of no significance. Without that wonder 
 Scarce would a thoughtful man bestow the name 
 On things that only children should admire, 
 Who, gaping, follow what is new and strange. 
 
 DAJA (to Nathan). 
 
 Would you to bursting strain her o erwrought brain 
 With all your subtleties ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Trust her to me ! 
 
 W T ere it not miracle enough for Recha 
 To be delivered by a human being, 
 Himself by no small miracle first saved ? 
 Not small indeed ! Who ever heard before 
 Of Templar being spared by Saladin 
 Of Templar asking to be spared, or hoping 
 Or offering more for freedom than the girth 
 That drags his iron, or, at most, his dagger ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 That proves for me, my father. For that reason 
 He was no actual Templar only seemed it.
 
 1 6 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Since never to Jerusalem there came 
 A captive Templar save to certain death ; 
 Since none e er walked Jerusalem so free, 
 How could one voluntarily, at night, 
 Have come to save me ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Most ingenious, Recha ! 
 Speak, Daja : twas from you I learned he came 
 A prisoner hither ; you must know yet more. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 So runs the story. It is said, besides, 
 That Saladin preserved the Templar s life 
 Because of the resemblance that he bore 
 A favorite brother. But as twenty years 
 Have passed away since this dear brother s death- 
 His name I know not know not where he died- 
 It sounds so, so incredible the whole 
 May be but fiction. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Wherefore, Daja, sounds it 
 Incredible, but that you would believe 
 As is the case things more incredible ? 
 Why should not Saladin, whose family 
 Are all so dear to him, in younger days 
 Have loved one brother with peculiar love ? 
 Look not two countenances oft alike ? 
 Are old impressions, therefore, vanished ones ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 17 
 
 Works the same cause no longer one effect ? 
 Since when ? Where lies in this the incredible ? 
 Ah, my wise Daja, further miracles 
 There can be none for you. Your miracles 
 Alone demand deserve, I mean belief. 
 
 DAJA. 
 You laugh at me. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Laughed you not too at me ? 
 Thus was your rescue still a miracle, 
 Dear Recha, possible alone to Him 
 Who oft is pleased to guide, by feeble threads, 
 The set decrees and purpose absolute 
 Of kings his toys, if not his scorn. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 My father, 
 If I am wrong, not willingly I err. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Willingly rather learn. See now a forehead 
 Aiched thus, or so ; the outline of a nose 
 Drawn this way more than that ; brows curving so, 
 Or so, according as the bone is sharp 
 Or round ; a line, crease, angle, spot, a nothing 
 Upon the face of one wild European 
 And you are rescued from the fire in Asia ! 
 Is that no miracle, ye wonder-seekers ? 
 What need to trouble an angel with it then ? 
 2 *
 
 1 8 NATHAN THK WISE. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 What harm if I may speak in the belief 
 An angel rather than a man has saved us ? 
 Feel we not so much nearer brought to Him 
 Of the deliverance the mysterious cause ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Pride, Daja, naught but pride ! The iron pot 
 Would have itself be lifted from the fire 
 By silver tongs, that so it may be deemed 
 A silver pot. Pah ! What the harm, you ask ? 
 What harm ? What good, I might retort. Tis 
 
 nonsense, 
 
 Or blasphemy, this "feeling nearer God." 
 But harm it does ay, actual harm ; for listen : 
 To your deliverer, be he man or angel, 
 Would you not both, and you especially, 
 Desire to render great and various service ? 
 But how perform such service to an angel ? 
 Thank him you can, and sigh to him and pray ; 
 Can melt away in ecstasies before him ; 
 Can keep a fast upon his sacred day ; 
 Can give your charities ; all that is naught. 
 Your neighbor and yourself are more the gainers, 
 It seems to me, than he. He grows not fat 
 By all your fasting ; all your charities 
 Make him not rich ; no greater is his glory 
 For all your ecstasies ; his power no greater 
 For all your faith. But, think him human now
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 19 
 
 D.VJA. 
 
 Ay, more, indeed, could we have done for him 
 Had he been human. What our readiness, 
 God knows. But he was so above all wants, 
 Was in and for himself so all-sufficient, 
 As only angels are and angels can be. 
 
 RECHA. 
 And when at last he vanished 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Vanished ! How ? 
 No longer showed himself beneath the palms ? 
 Or have you really further searched for him ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 That we have not. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not, Daja ? See what harm ! 
 You cruel enthusiasts ! What if this angel 
 Had been been sick ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Sick! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Sick ! He cannot be ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 A shudder chills me. Daja, feel my brow, 
 So warm but now, is turned to ice !
 
 2O NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 A Frank 
 
 He is, a stranger to our climate ; young 
 To all the hard requirements of his Order 
 To hunger, watching, unaccustomed. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Sick! 
 DAJA. 
 
 He only means, that it were possible. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 See, there he lies, without a friend, or gold 
 To purchase friends 
 
 RECHA. 
 Alas ! my father ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Lies 
 
 Without attendance, counsel, sympathy 
 A prey to sorrows, and perhaps to death. 
 
 RECHA. 
 Where ? Where ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He who for one he never knew 
 Nor saw enough it was a human being 
 Had leaped into the flames 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Oh, spare her, Nathan !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 21 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Who would not know more nearly, would not see 
 What he had saved, that he might not be thanked 
 
 DAJA. 
 Oh, Nathan, spare her spare her ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Had no wish 
 
 To see again, unless a second time 
 He might deliver ; for enough for him 
 It was a human being 
 
 DAJA. 
 Hush ! Ah, see ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He, dying, has no other solace, none, 
 Besides the memory of his deed. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Hush ! hush ! 
 You re killing her. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And so did you kill him ; 
 
 Or so you might have killed him. Recha ! Recha ! 
 Tis medicine, not poison, that I give you ! 
 He lives ! Come, be yourself ! He is not sick 
 Not even sick ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 Quite sure ? Not dead ? Not sick ?
 
 22 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not surely dead ; for God rewards even here 
 
 The good that here is done. But have you learned 
 
 That pious ecstasies are easier far 
 
 Than virtuous deeds ; how gladly idleness, 
 
 Concealing its true motive from itself, 
 
 Would stand excused from virtuous deeds, and plead 
 
 Its pious ecstasies instead ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 My father, 
 
 Leave, leave your Recha nevermore alone ! 
 He has but left Jerusalem perhaps ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Assuredly. Yonder a Mussulman, 
 With curious eye, observes my loaded camels. 
 Look ! Know you him ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 It is your dervise. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Who ? 
 DAJA. 
 Your dervise ; your antagonist at chess. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Al-Hafi ! That Al-Hafi ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Treasurer now 
 Of Saladin.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Dream you again ? Al-Hafi ! 
 Tis he tis he indeed ! He comes toward us. 
 Quick, back into the house ! What will he tell me ? 
 
 SCENE III. 
 NATHAN and the DERVISE. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 NOW let your eyes be opened to their widest ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Is it yourself or not ? In this attire- 
 A dervise ? 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 Well, why not? Can dervises 
 Be turned to no account whatever then ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 To plenty. But I had supposed a dervise, 
 A genuine dervise, would be turned to none. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 By the Prophet ! May be I m no genuine one. 
 Yet, if one must 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Must dervise? Dervise must? 
 Nay, no man must ; why must a dervise then ? 
 What must he, pray ?
 
 24 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 What is desired of him 
 In faith and honor, and he knows is right 
 That must a dervise. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 There you speak the truth. 
 Let me embrace you, man, and call you friend ! 
 
 DERVISE. 
 Before you learn to what I ve been promoted ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 In spite of your promotion. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 I m become 
 
 A fellow in the State, perhaps, whose friendship 
 Were inconvenient. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I will take the risk, 
 
 If but your heart continue dervise still. 
 The fellow in the State is but your gown. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 But that craves honor too. What think you? Guess! 
 What am I at your court ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Dervise no more ; 
 Unless you may besides be cook.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 25 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 Goto! 
 
 I should unlearn my trade with you. A cook ! 
 Not butler too ? Confess that Saladin 
 Could better read me. I m his treasurer ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 You his? 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 But of the smaller treasure, mind 
 That for his house. His father holds the greater. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 His house is great. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 Ay, greater than you think ; 
 For every beggar forms a part of it. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Yet Saladin is so opposed to beggars 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 He would exterminate them root and branch, 
 Though he himself thereby be made a beggar 
 
 NATHAN. 
 I thought so. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 Is one now in fact. Each day 
 His treasury contains, at sunset, less 
 Than nothing. Let the tide be e er so high 
 At morning, long ere noon tis all run out. 
 3
 
 26 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Because canals, alike impossible 
 To fill or stay, are feeding from it. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 Right ! 
 NATHAN. 
 I know it all. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 When princes are the vultures 
 Amidst the carrion, that is bad enough ; 
 But when they are the carrion midst the vultures, 
 Tis ten times worse. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Oh, never, never that ! 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 Ah, you may talk ! But come, what will you give 
 If I resign my office to you ? Eh ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 What yields your office ? 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 Me indeed not much ; 
 But for yourself twould yield abundantly. 
 For when the tide is low, as low it will be, 
 Lift up your own flood-gates, let in your money, 
 And take in interest whatsoe er you will.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 27 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Perhaps charge interest on the interest 
 Of interest ? 
 
 DERVISE. 
 Yes. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Till my capital 
 Becomes all interest. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 That tempts you not ? 
 
 Then write at once the quittance of our friendship ; 
 For I had counted much on you. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How so ? 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 That you would help me hold my post with honor ; 
 Your purse be open always to my need. 
 You shake your head ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Let s understand each other. 
 There s a distinction here. To you why not ? 
 Al-Hafi, dervise, shall to all I have 
 Be ever warmly welcome. But Al-Hafi, 
 The treasurer of the Sultan he to him 
 
 DERVISE. 
 Did I not guess it ? How your goodness ever
 
 28 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Keeps pace with prudence, prudence with your wis 
 dom ; 
 
 But patience, and this difference in Al-Hafi, 
 Shall trouble you no more. Behold this robe 
 Of honor that the Sultan decked me with. 
 Ere it be faded and in rags, fit clothing 
 For dervise wear, within Jerusalem 
 It shall be hanging, while beside the Ganges, 
 Barefoot and light, I walk the burning sands 
 Among my teachers. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Like yourself - 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 And play 
 At chess with them. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Your highest good. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 Consider 
 
 What tempted me ; that I might beg no longer ? 
 Might play the part of rich man amongst beggars ? 
 Might have the power of making in a twinkling 
 A poor rich man out of the richest beggar ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Not surely that. 
 
 DERVISE, 
 Far more absurd than that.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 29 
 
 The first time in ray life I had been flattered, 
 By Saladin s kind-hearted fancy flattered. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 What fancy ? 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 That a beggar only knew 
 The feelings of a beggar ; that a beggar 
 Alone had learned kind dealings with a beggar. 
 "Your predecessor," he said, "was cold and harsh. 
 He gave unkindly, if he gave at all ; 
 Must always first ungraciously inquire 
 About the asker not content to know 
 He was in want ; he must discover, too, 
 The reason of the want, and make his gifts, 
 His stingy gifts, proportionate to that. 
 Not so Al-Hafi. So unkindly kind 
 He will not suffer Saladin to seem. 
 Al-Hafi is not like those foul, clogged pipes, 
 That give back troubled and impure the water 
 That was so clear and still when they received it. 
 Al-Hafi thinks, Al-Hafi feels with me." 
 Thus sweetly sang the fowler s voice, and lured 
 The silly bird within the net. O fool ! 
 The fool too of a fool ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 But gently, gently, 
 My dervise !
 
 30 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 DERVISE. 
 What ! Is it not a foolery 
 
 To oppress one s brother-men by hundreds, thou 
 sands 
 
 To waste their strength, to plunder, torture, kill 
 them 
 
 Yet wish to appear the savior of a few ? 
 
 Is it not foolery to try to ape 
 
 The mercy of the Highest who, impartial, 
 
 On evil and on good, on field and waste, 
 
 Spreadeth Himself abroad in sun and rain 
 
 Yet not to have the overflowing hand 
 
 Of the Almighty ? Is t not foolery 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Enough ! Have done ! 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 Not till I have confessed 
 My equal foolery. Say, was it none 
 In me that I was always tracing out 
 The kindly side of fooleries like these, 
 As my apology for sharing in them ? 
 Call you that none ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Al-Hafi, make all haste 
 To get into your wilderness again. 
 I fear lest, living among men, you ll cease 
 To be a man yourself.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 31 
 
 DERVISE. 
 
 I fear it too. 
 Farewell ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 So hasty ? Hold, Al-Hafi, hold ! 
 Fear you the desert will escape ? Stay stay ! 
 Will he not hear me ? Ho, Al-Hafi here ! 
 No, he is gone ; and I had asked so gladly 
 About our Templar : he must know the knight. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 DAJA entering hastily. NATHAN. 
 
 DAJA. 
 O Nathan, Nathan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Well, what is it, Daja ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 He has appeared again appeared again ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Who, Daja ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 He! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He ? When appeared he not ? 
 Aha ! tis onlyjyour he that is he. 
 That is not well \ not though he were an angel.
 
 3 2 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Beneath the palms he s walking to and fro, 
 And breaking ever and anon the dates. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 And eating ? As a Templar ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Tease me not ! 
 
 Beneath the palm-trees thickly woven shade 
 Her greedy eye discovered him, and follows 
 Unwaveringly ; and she entreats, conjures you, 
 Without delay, to go to him. Oh, haste ! 
 She s at her window, and will sign to you 
 Which way to seek him. Haste ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Just from my camels ? 
 
 Would that be courteous ? Haste to him yourself, 
 And tell him my return. It was his honor 
 Alone forbade his entering my house 
 While I was absent. He ll be glad to come 
 When tis the father that invites him. Go, 
 Say I invite him, cordially invite 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 In vain ; he will not come to you. In short, 
 He comes not to a Jew. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yet go ; at least 
 
 Detain him, or, best, keep your eye upon him. 
 Go first ; I follow instantly. Go go !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 33 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 A square planted with palm-trees, under which the 
 TEMPLAR is walking to and fro. A LAY-BROTHER 
 follffws him at a little distance, as if he would speak 
 with him. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Tis not from idleness he follows me. 
 See how he glances towards my hands. Good 
 
 brother 
 may I call you father ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Brother only. 
 A poor lay-brother only, at your service. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Good brother, had I aught myself By heaven, 
 By heaven, I ve nothing 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Still, take hearty thanks. 
 May God return to you a thousand-fold 
 What you would give me. For the will it is 
 That makes the giver not the gift. Besides, 
 I was not sent to beg the knight for alms. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Then you were sent ?
 
 34 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 Yes ; from the monastery. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Where I had Jioped but now to find a morsel 
 Of pilgrim s fare ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 The tables then were filled. 
 But let the knight return with me. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Why so ? 
 
 Tis many a day since I have tasted meat. 
 Besides, what need ? The dates are ripe. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The knight 
 
 Should be upon his guard against the fruit ; 
 Too much is dangerous. It clogs the spleen, 
 Breeds melancholy. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And what now if I like 
 This melancholy ? But to give that warning 
 You were not sent. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Oh no ; I was but sent 
 To sound the knight somewhat to feel his pulse. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 You tell me that yourself?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 35 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 And wherefore not ? 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 (A crafty brother. ) Does the monastery 
 Have many such as you ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I do not know. 
 I must obey, sir knight. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 So you obey, 
 And ask no questions ? 
 
 . 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Were aught else obeying, 
 Sir knight ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 (See how simplicity is sure 
 To come off best ! ) Could you not further tell 
 The name of him who seeks such knowledge of me ? 
 My oath, tis not yourself. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Were it becoming 
 In me, or profitable ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Whom could it profit, 
 Or whom become to be so curious ?
 
 36 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The Patriarch, I conclude, since he it was 
 Who sent me here. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 The Patriarch ? Knows he not 
 The white cloak s bloody cross ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Even I know that. 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Well then ! I am a Templar, and a captive. 
 And if I add that I was taken at Tebnin, 
 The fortress that we vainly tried to scale 
 Before the truce expired, and thus lay open 
 A passage into Sidon, if I add, 
 That twenty more were taken captive with me, 
 But I alone received the Sultan s pardon, 
 Then has the Patriarch all he needs to know 
 More than he needs. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Scarce more, though, than he knew. 
 He fain would know the reason why the knight 
 Was pardoned by the Sultan he alone. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I know not that myself. My neck was bared, 
 And on my mantle kneeling I awaited 
 The final stroke, when more intent his eyes
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 37 
 
 The Sultan fixes on me, toward me springs, 
 And motions. I am raised ; my chains fall off ; 
 I try to thank him ; tears are in his eyes ; 
 Silent is he am I ; he goes, I stay. 
 What now the meaning of it all may be, 
 The Patriarch must unriddle for himself. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 His inference is that God must have reserved you 
 For great, great enterprises. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Great indeed ! 
 
 For rescuing a Jewess from the fire, 
 Conducting curious pilgrims up Mount Sinai, 
 And more as great. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The rest will come. Meanwhile 
 Tis not a bad beginning. Greater things 
 Already for the knight the Patriarch 
 May have in store. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Ah, brother, think you so ? 
 Has any hint been dropped of such ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Ay, ay. 
 
 But first I am to sound the knight to learn 
 If he s the man.
 
 38 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 All right ; sound on ! (Let s see 
 How he will sound me !) Well ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The shortest way 
 
 Were honestly to set before the knight 
 The Patriarch s wish. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Good ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 He desires to send 
 A little letter by the knight. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 By me ? 
 
 I am no carrier. So then, that s the work 
 He holds more glorious than the rescuing 
 A Jewess from the fire ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 It must be ; for 
 
 The Patriarch says upon this little letter 
 The interests of all Christendom depend. 
 God will reward the safe delivery of it 
 The Patriarch says with a peculiar crown 
 In heaven ; and of this crown the Patriarch says- 
 Is none more worthy than the knight.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 39 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Than I? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Because to earn this crown the Patriarch says 
 Is none more fitted than the knight. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Than I? 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 You have your freedom here ; can everything 
 Examine at your will ; you understand 
 How cities should be stormed, and how defended ; 
 Can duly estimate the Patriarch says 
 The strength and weakness of that inner wall 
 Just built by Saladin ; and can minutely 
 Describe it to the soldiers of the Cross. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Could you not further tell me the contents, 
 Good brother, of the letter ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The contents 
 
 I know not quite myself. But to King Philip 
 The letter is addressed. The Patriarch 
 I oft have wondered that a holy man, 
 Whose walk is else in heaven, should deign to keep 
 So well informed of the affairs of earth. 
 It must be very burdensome to him.
 
 4O NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Go on ; the Patriarch 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Knows beyond a doubt 
 
 Exactly how and where, with how great force, 
 From what direction, Saladin will open 
 The next campaign, should war break out afresh. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 He does ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 He does, and would inform King Philip ; 
 That he may judge if danger be so great, 
 Twere better to renew at any cost 
 The truce with Saladin, so lately broken 
 By your brave Order. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What a Patriarch ! 
 
 No common messenger he seeks in me, 
 Good honest man ; he wants a spy. Go, tell him, 
 As far as you could sound me, worthy brother, 
 He had mistaken his man ; that I am bound 
 To hold myself still captive ; and that Templars 
 Have one profession, that of arms know naught 
 Of playing the spy. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I thought so ! None the worse 
 My judgment of the knight. The best remains.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 41 
 
 The Patriarch has ferreted out the fortress, 
 What name it bears, and where on Lebanon 
 It lies, wherein are stored the enormous sums 
 From which the Sultan s prudent father pays 
 The army, and defrays all costs of war. 
 Thither, from time to time, the Sultan goes, 
 By lonely roads, and almost unattended. 
 You understand ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Not I! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 How easy now 
 
 To overpower the Sultan, or despatch him. 
 You shudder ? Nay ; two pious Maronites 
 Have volunteered already for the deed, 
 If but some valiant man be found to lead them. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And did the Patriarch look to me again 
 To be this valiant leader ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 He believes 
 
 That out of Ptolemais can King Philip 
 Give most effectual aid. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 To me to me ? 
 
 Have you not heard, have you not just been told, 
 What obligations bind me to the Sultan ?
 
 42 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 I heard. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 And yet 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Oh, yes the Patriarch says 
 That may be very well ; but God, your Order 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Change naught ; command no villany ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Oh no; 
 
 But then the Patriarch says a villany 
 In man s esteem may not be one in God s. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 My life I owe the Sultan. Shall my hand 
 Rob him of his ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 As long the Patriarch says 
 As Saladin remains the enemy 
 Of Christendom, he can acquire no right 
 To be your friend. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 My friend ? A man to whom 
 I only would not play the thankless villain. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 True ; but the Patriarch says the debt of thanks
 
 NATHAN TEE WISE. 43 
 
 Is cancelled, cancelled before God and man, 
 For service rendered on account of others. 
 And as the Patriarch says it is reported 
 The Sultan spared you only for a something, 
 In face or bearing, that recalled a brother 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 That too the Patriarch knew ; and even yet 
 Oh were I sure of that ! Ah, Saladin ! 
 Could Nature fashion but a single feature 
 In likeness of your brother, yet my soul 
 Receive no answering trait ; or could such trait, 
 To do a Patriarch s pleasure, be suppressed ? 
 Nature, so liest thou not ; not so does God 
 Belie himself upon his works ! Go, brother ; 
 Provoke me not to anger. Go ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I go; 
 
 And readier than I came. Forgive me, knight. 
 We brothers have no choice but to obey. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 
 The TEMPLAR and DAJA. DAJA has been watching 
 from a distance, and now approaches, 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 The brother s visit left him not, methinks, 
 In happiest humor. Still, I needs must venture.
 
 44 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Ah, excellent ! The proverb holds that monk 
 And woman, woman and monk, are Satan s claws. 
 To-day he throws me to and fro between them. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Do I again behold you, noble knight ? 
 Thank God a thousand times ! But where so long 
 Have you been hiding ? Not been sick, I hope ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 No. 
 
 DAJA. 
 Well, then ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Yes. 
 
 DAJA. 
 We have been anxious for you. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Indeed ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 Have you been on a journey ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 DAJA. 
 And just returned to-day ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 No ; yesterday.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 45 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 To-day has Recha s father too returned. 
 Now may not Recha hope ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 For what ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 For that 
 
 She has so often begged. Her father too 
 Will soon himself most pressingly invite you. 
 He comes from Babylon, with twenty camels 
 Piled high with precious spices, stones, and stuffs, 
 The rich returns of India, Persia, Syria 
 Of China even. 
 
 TEMPLAR 
 I do not buy. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 His people 
 
 Revere him as a prince ; yet why the wise 
 They call him, not the rich/ I often wonder. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 To them, perchance, are rich and wise the same. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Good should they call him first. How good he is 
 You cannot think. When Recha s debt to you 
 Was told him, there was nothing in that moment 
 He d not have done for you or given.
 
 46 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Indeed ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 Try him, and see ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 How soon a moment passes ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Were he less good, should I have been content 
 So long to "dwell with him ? You think, perhaps, 
 I do not feel my dignity as Christian ? 
 Nor in my cradle was it e er foretold 
 That for this very cause to Palestine 
 I should accompany my wedded lord, 
 There to bring up a Jewish girl. My husband, 
 A noble squire in Emperor Frederick s army 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 By birth a Swiss, to whom had been accorded 
 The glory of drowning in the selfsame stream 
 With his Imperial Majesty. O woman, 
 How often have you told me that before ? 
 Is there no end to your pursuing me ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 Pursuing ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes, pursuing. I ll not see 
 Nor hear you more ; I will not be reminded 
 Forever by you of a deed I did
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 47 
 
 Without a thought ; a riddle to myself 
 Whene er I think of it. Not willingly 
 Would I repent it ; but should such a chance 
 Again occur, you ll have yourself to blame 
 If I m a trifle slower, stop to question, 
 And let what s burning, burn. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 May God forbid 1 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 From this day forth, grant me at least the favor 
 Of knowing me no more. I beg it of you. 
 Keep too the father from me. Jew is Jew. 
 I am a clumsy Swabian. Long ago 
 The maiden s image faded from my soul, 
 If it were ever there. 
 
 DAJA. 
 Not yours from hers. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 And what of that ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Who knows ? Men are not always 
 The thing they seem. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Yet seldom better. [Is going. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Stay; 
 Why haste you ?
 
 48 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Woman, do not make these palms, 
 Neath which I ve loved to walk, grow hateful to me. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Go then, you Northern bear ! Go go ! And yet 
 I must not lose the monster out of sight. 
 \_Shefollows him at a distance. ]
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 49 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Room in the Stdlan s palace. SALADIN and SITTAH 
 at chess. 
 
 . 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Where are you, Saladin ? Why, how you play ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Not well ? I thought I did. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 For me : yet hardly. 
 Take back that move. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Why so ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 The knight s exposed. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 True : so, then ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Then shall I step in between. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 You re right again. Then check ! 
 
 5
 
 5O NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 What use in that ? 
 I interpose, and you are where you were. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 From this dilemma is there no escape, 
 Except by paying ? Well, then take my knight. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 I want him not ; I let him stand. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 No favor. 
 The place was more important than the piece. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 May be. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 But reckon not without your host. 
 See ! had you looked for that ? 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 I d not, indeed ; 
 How could I think you weary of your queen? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 My queen ? 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Beyond my thousand denarii, 
 No fraction shall I win to-day, I see. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 How so ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 51 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 You ask ? Because with all your might 
 You will be beaten. That s no gain to me. 
 Small pleasure can one take in games like that. 
 Besides, win I not always most from you 
 When I have lost ? When have you failed to send 
 The double of the stake, to comfort me 
 For my defeat ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ah ! so, my little sister, 
 When you have lost, you lost on purpose eh ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Your generosity at least, dear brother, 
 May be to blame that I m no better player. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 But we forget our game. Come, make an end ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 How stands it ? So then, check, and double check ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That double check I truly had not seen. 
 It robs me of my queen. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Could you have helped it ? 
 Let s see ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 No, no ; take off the queen. I ne er 
 Was lucky with the piece.
 
 52 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Only the piece ? 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Away with her ! No harm is done ; for thus 
 All s safe again. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Well has my brother taught 
 The courtesy that should be showed to queens. 
 
 [Leaves her. 
 SALADIN. 
 Take her or take her not ! I have no other. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Why should I take her ? Check ! check ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Keep on ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Check ! 
 And check ! and check ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 And mate ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Not quite ; your knight 
 Can interpose, or what you will ; all one. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Right ! You have won, and Hafi pays. Go, call 
 him !
 
 A ATHAN THE WISE. 53 
 
 You guessed aright, dear Sittah ; for my mind 
 Was not intent upon the game it wandered. 
 Besides, who gives us these smooth pieces always, 
 That have no meaning, no suggestion in them ? 
 Have I not played with the Imam himself? 
 Defeat but seeks excuse. Twas not alone 
 The shapeless pieces, Sittah, made me lose. 
 Your skill, your sharper, quicker eye 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 There too 
 
 You would but blunt the sting of your defeat. 
 Enough, you were preoccupied ; even more 
 Than I. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Than you ? What had you on your mind ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Not your anxiety. O Saladin, 
 When shall we play so heartily again ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 We ll play but so much the more eagerly. 
 Because there s to be war again, you mean ? 
 So be it ! Forward ! I did not begin. 
 I gladly would have had the truce renewed ; 
 Gladly, most gladly, would have given my Sittah 
 A noble husband, too, as Richard s brother 
 Had surely been. Is he not Richard s brother ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Ah, if you can but sing your Richard s praises ! 
 5*
 
 54 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 If Richard s sister, then, could have become 
 Our brother Melech s wife Ah, what a house ! 
 Of all the best, first houses in the world, 
 The best, the first. You see I am not slow 
 To praise myself. I do not deem myself 
 Unworthy of my friends. What men had then 
 Been born into the world ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Did I not laugh 
 
 From the beginning at your beauteous dreams ? 
 You do not know, you will not know the Christians. 
 Christianity, not manhood, is their pride. 
 E en that which from their founder down has spiced 
 Their superstition with humanity, 
 Tis not for its humanity they love it. 
 No ; but because Christ taught, Christ practised it. 
 Happy for them he was so good a man ! 
 Happy for them that they can trust his virtue ! 
 His virtue ? Not his virtue, but his name, 
 They say, shall spread abroad, and shall devour 
 And put to shame the names of all good men. 
 The name, the name is all their pride. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Why else, 
 
 You think, should they require of you and Melech 
 To take the Christian name, ere you could love 
 A Christian consort ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 55 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Yes ; as if in Christians, 
 As Christians only, could exist that love 
 With which, in the beginning, God endowed 
 Both man and woman. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Poor conceits too many 
 The Christians hold, not to believe that also. 
 And yet you err. The Templars, not the Christians, 
 Are here to blame ; are not to blame as Christians, 
 But Templars. They it is who bring our plans 
 To naught. They will not lose their hold on Acca, 
 Which Richard s sister, as her dower, would bring 
 To Melech. Lest the knightly interest 
 Should suffer loss, they play the silly monk. 
 A sudden blow they think may have success, 
 And scarce can wait until the truce be o er. 
 Keep on, my masters, on ! I m well content. 
 Were but all else as I would have it ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What 
 What else disturbed you so could ruffle you ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What always has disturbed me. I have been 
 Upon Mount Lebanon ; I ve seen our father. 
 His cares still burden him. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Alas!
 
 56 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Escape 
 There s none ; on every side he s cramped ; falls 
 
 back, 
 Now here, now there. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 What is it lacks ? What cramps him ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What else but that I hardly deign to name ; 
 Which, when I have, seems worthless ; but when not, 
 Is indispensable ? Where tarries Hafi ? 
 W T as he not called ? This fatal, cursed gold ! 
 Good, Hafi, that you re come. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 The dervise AL-HAFI. SALADIN. SITTAH. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 The gold from Egypt 
 Has then arrived. There need be plenty of it. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Have you had tidings ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 I ? Not I ! I came 
 Expecting to receive them.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 57 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Pay to Sittah 
 A thousand denarii. 
 
 [ Walks io and fro, lost in thought, 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 Pay not receive ! 
 
 That s good ! A something rather less than naught. 
 To Sittah ? Once again to Sittah ? Lost ? 
 And lost again at chess ! There stands the game. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 You cannot grudge me my good fortune ? 
 
 AL-HAFI (studying the game). 
 
 Grudge ? 
 If But you know. 
 
 SITTAH (motioning to him). 
 Hush, Hafi, hush ! 
 
 AL-HAFI (still looking on the board}. 
 
 Twere better 
 You grudged yourself. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Hush, Hafi! 
 
 AL-HAFI (to Sittah). 
 
 Yours the white? 
 You offer check ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Tis well he does not hear.
 
 58 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 The move is his ? 
 
 SITTAH (going nearer to hint). 
 
 Pray, say I may receive 
 My money. 
 
 AL-HAFI (still intent on the game). 
 
 Yes ; you shall receive the money, 
 As you receive it always. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Are you mad ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 The game s not over, Saladin not lost. 
 
 SALADIN (scarce attending). 
 No matter ! Pay ! 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 Pay pay ! There stands your queen. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 She counts for naught ; belongs not in the game. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Make haste and say that I may fetch the money. 
 
 AL-HAFI (still eager with the game]. 
 Of course ; as usual. But suppose the queen 
 Be no more in the game, you re not yet mated.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 59 
 
 SALADIN (approaches and overturns the board], 
 I am ; I will be. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 So ! As played, so won ! 
 And as twas won, so twill be paid. 
 
 SALADIN (to Sittah}. 
 
 What says he ? 
 
 SITTAH (occasionally signing to Al-Hafi). 
 You know him ; how he likes to make objections ; 
 To be entreated ; sometimes will be jealous. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 But not of you ? Not of my sister ? Hafi, 
 What hear I of you ? Jealous ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 May be so. 
 T would I had her mind ; were good as she. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Still, he has always paid me honestly ; 
 To-day, too, will he pay. Trust him. Go, Hafi ! 
 I ll send and fetch the money. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 No ; I play 
 This farce with you no more. He must be told. 
 
 SALADIX. 
 Who ? What ?
 
 60 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Al-Hafi, keep you thus your word ? 
 Is this your promise ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 How could I suppose 
 You d carry it so far ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Shall I learn naught ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 I pray you, Hafi, be discreet. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Tis strange ! 
 
 Does Sittah pray so earnestly, so warmly 
 A stranger s and a dervise s forbearance, 
 Rather than mine, her brother s ? I command, 
 Al-Hafi ! Dervise, speak ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Let not a trifle 
 
 Disturb you, brother, more than it deserves. 
 You know that many times I ve won from you 
 This same amount at chess ; and since the money 
 To me was useless now, and Han s chest 
 Had none too much of it, I left it there. 
 But have no fear, for neither you, my brother, 
 Nor Hafi, nor the treasury, shall keep it. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 Ah, if that were all !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 6 1 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 There s more of the same. 
 E en that is in the treasury, untouched, 
 That once you handed me yourself : some months 
 Has it been lying there. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 E en that s not all. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Not all ? Speak out, then ! 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Since we ve been expecting 
 The gold from Egypt, she 
 
 SITTAH (to Saladiri), 
 
 Why listen to him ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 Not only drew no money, but 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Advanced 
 Her own ? not so ! 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Supported the whole court. 
 Herself alone defrayed your whole expense. 
 
 SALADIN (embracing her*). 
 My own true sister !
 
 62 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Who but you, my brother, 
 Had made me rich enough to do so much ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 And now is making her as poor, as beggared 
 As he himself. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I poor ? Her brother poor ? 
 
 When had I more when less ? A cloak, a sword, 
 A horse and God ! What need I more ? In these, 
 When can I want ? Yet could I chide you, Hafi. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Nay, chide not, brother. Could I but relieve 
 Our father s needs as well ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ah, there you dash 
 My happiness again. I, for myself, 
 Want nothing cannot want. But he he wants ; 
 And in him, want we all. What shall I do ? 
 It may be long before the gold arrives 
 From Egypt. Why so great delay, God knows. 
 All s quiet there. I will economize, 
 Will save, submit to aught that but concerns 
 Myself, and brings no suffering on others. 
 But what avails it all ? A horse, a cloak, 
 A sword these must I have ; and with my God 
 There is no cheapening. Little enough it is
 
 NATIIAN THE WISE. 63 
 
 Contents him now my heart. I counted much 
 Upon your treasury s overplus, Al-Hafi. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 My overplus ? Confess yourself, empaling, 
 Or strangling at the least, had been my doom, 
 If any overplus you d caught me in. 
 A fraud, indeed, had been a safer venture. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 What s to be done? Was there, then, none but 
 
 Sittah 
 To borrow of? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Would I that privilege, 
 
 My brother, have relinquished ? Still I claim it. 
 Still not quite to the bottom am I drained. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Not quite ! That s worst of all. Take instant 
 
 measures ; 
 
 Get gold of whom you can, and as you can ; 
 Go, borrow promise ! Only borrow not 
 Of those made rich by me ; such borrowing 
 Were asking back my gifts. Seek the most greedy : 
 They readiest lend to me ; for they have learned 
 How in my hands their gold accumulates. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 I know none such.
 
 64 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 I just bethink me, Hafi, 
 I heard your friend was back again. 
 
 AL-HAFI (embarrassed). 
 
 My friend? 
 Who may he be ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 That much-praised Jew of yours. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 A much-praised Jew of mine ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Endowed by God, 
 I well remember yet the words you used 
 In speaking of him, one endowed by God 
 In fullest measure with the least and greatest 
 Of all this world s possessions. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Said I so ? 
 What could such words have meant ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 The least is riches ; 
 The greatest, wisdom. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Of a Jew ? What Jew 
 Could words like those have fitted ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 65 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Not your Nathan ? 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Ah, Nathan yes ; I had not thought of him. 
 Is he indeed come back again at last ? 
 Things must have prospered with him then. Tis 
 
 true, 
 The people called him once the Wise and Rich. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Now more than ever call they him the Rich. 
 The city rings with stories of the jewels, 
 The treasures he has brought. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 So then the Rich 
 He is again, and soon will be the Wise. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 What say you to approaching him, Al-Hafi ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 For what ? You do not mean to borrow ? Ah, 
 There you mistake him. Nathan lend ! Therein 
 Consists his wisdom, that he lends to none. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Another picture of him once you drew. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 He d lend you merchandise at need ; but money, 
 His money, never ! Otherwise a Jew, 
 6*
 
 66 X AT HAN THE WISE. 
 
 Whose like is rarely found among his people. 
 He has intelligence, knows how to live, 
 Is strong at chess. But he excels the rest 
 In evil as in good. Count not on him. 
 Tis true, he gives the poor. A match he is 
 For Saladin, in giving. Not as much, 
 Perhaps, but just as gladly just as free 
 From all distinction. Mussulman, Parsee, 
 The Christian, or the Jew, all one to him. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 And such a man 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 How can I ne er have heard 
 Of such a man till now ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Would he not lend 
 To Saladin to Saladin, who spends 
 For others only, not himself? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 There shows 
 
 The Jew again the ordinary Jew. 
 My word for it, so envious he is, 
 So jealous of your giving ! No " God bless you 
 In all the world, but he d have said to him. 
 He therefore lends to none, lest he should lose 
 The means of giving. Charity his law 
 Commands, but it commands not courtesy ; 
 And thus through charity is he become
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 67 
 
 The most discourteous neighbor in the world. 
 Tis true, we ve not been on good terms of late ; 
 But think me not for that unjust to him. 
 In all else is he good, but not to lend : 
 Trust me he d not. I ll knock at other doors. 
 I just bethink me of a Moor who s rich 
 And miserly. I go ! I go ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What haste, 
 Al-Hafi? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Let him go : nay, let him go ! 
 
 SCENE III. 
 SITTAH. SALADIN. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 He hurries off as he were glad to escape. 
 What means it ? Has he been himself deceived, 
 Or would he mislead us ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Why ask of me ? 
 
 I hardly know of whom you spoke. This Nathan, 
 This Jew of yours, I never heard his name 
 Until to-day.
 
 68 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 How is it possible 
 
 You never heard of one of whom tis said 
 He has explored the graves of Solomon 
 And David, and by certain magic words 
 Can loose their seals ? And further, that from them 
 He brings to light of day, from time to time, 
 That boundless wealth which speaks no lesser source. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 If tis from graves this man derives his wealth, 
 Tis surely not from Solomon s or David s, 
 But from the graves of fools ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Or knaves ! Besides, 
 
 More yielding are the sources of his wealth 
 Than such a mammon-pit ; exhaustless are they. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 He trades, you say. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 His beasts of burden toil 
 On every highway and through every desert ; 
 In every harbor lie his ships. Al-Hafi 
 So told me once, and rapturously added 
 How generously, nobly would his friend 
 Employ the wealth he had not thought too mean 
 To labor for with hand and brain : he added, 
 How free from prejudice his spirit was,
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 69 
 
 How open was his heart to every virtue, 
 With all things beautiful in sympathy. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Yet now Al-Hafi spoke so doubtfully, 
 So coldly of him! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Coldly ? no ; embarrassed. 
 As deemed he it were dangerous to praise, 
 Yet would not censure undeservedly. 
 Or is it that the best among his people 
 Can never quite escape the Jew ; that here 
 Is Hafi disappointed in his friend ? 
 But be he what he may more than a Jew 
 Or less is he but rich, enough for us. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 You surely would not take his gold from him 
 By violence, dear sister ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Violence ? 
 
 What call you violence ? by fire and sword ? 
 No, no ; against the weak what force is needed 
 Save their own weakness ? Come with me awhile 
 Into my harem ; you must hear a singer 
 I bought me yesterday. Meanwhile a plan 
 I have for Nathan shall be ripening. Come !
 
 70 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Near the palms before NATHAN S house. RECHA and 
 NATHAN come from the house. DAJA joins them. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Why have you been so long in coming, father ? 
 You scarce will find him now. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Well, well ; if here 
 
 No more, no longer neath these palms, yet else 
 where. 
 Be tranquil. See, comes there not Daja to us ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 She s lost him, I am sure. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Perhaps not, Recha. 
 
 RECHA. 
 She d come more quickly else. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 She may not see us. ... 
 
 RECHA. 
 She sees us now. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And hurries forward. Look ! 
 Be calm be quiet !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 71 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Would you want a child 
 
 Who could be calm, who could be unconcerned 
 For one whose bravery was her life the life 
 She values only as it came from you ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I would not have you other than you are ; 
 Not though I read a something in your soul 
 You will not name. 
 
 RECHA. 
 What, father ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Do you ask 
 
 Ask me so timidly ? Whate er be stirred 
 Within you, tis but innocence and nature. 
 Fear not. I have no fear. But promise me 
 If e er your heart declare itself more plainly, 
 No wish of it shall be concealed from me. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 You make me tremble but to think my heart 
 Could ever wish concealment from my father. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Enough ; tis once for all agreed between us. 
 See, here is Daja ! Well ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 He s walking yet 
 
 Beneath the palms, just hid by yonder wall. 
 Look, there he is !
 
 72 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Ah, see ! He hesitates. 
 Will he go on or back, to right or left ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 No, no ; he s sure to take again the path 
 Around the cloister, and must pass this way. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Right, right ! Say, have you spoken with him to 
 day ? 
 How is he ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 Just as always. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Have a care 
 
 He does not see you. Better further back ; 
 Or safest in the house. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 But one look more ! 
 Alas, the hedge that steals him from me ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Come! 
 
 Your father s right. He might turn back at once, 
 Should he behold you. Come 1 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Ah me, that hedge !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 73 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And should he suddenly emerge from it, 
 He could not fail to see you. Go, then go ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Come, come with me ; I ll take you to a window, 
 Whence we may watch them unobserved. Come ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Yes? 
 \Both into the house. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 NATHAN. Soon afterward the TEMPLAR. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I almost dread to meet this strange Unknown ; 
 I almost shrink before his rugged virtue. 
 Strange that one man can make his fellow-man 
 Thus ill at ease ! Ah, there he comes. By heaven ! 
 A manly youth. That brave, defiant look, 
 I like it well that solid tread. The shell 
 Alone is bitter ; surely not the kernel. 
 Where have I seen one like him ? Noble Frank, 
 Forgive me 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 What? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Permit me
 
 74 NATHAN THK WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What, Jew, what ? 
 NATHAN. 
 That I presume to address you. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Can I help it? 
 Be brief! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Forgive, and hurry not so proudly, 
 With such contempt, past one whom you have bound 
 Unto yourself forever. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 How is that : 
 Ah, I can guess. You are 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 My name is Nathan ; 
 
 I m father of the maiden whom you saved 
 So generously from the fire. I come 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 If tis to thank me, you may spare yourself. 
 Too many thanks have I endured already 
 For such a trifle. Nothing do you owe me. 
 How did I know the maiden was your daughter ? 
 It is the Templar s duty to assist 
 The first, the best whose need he sees. Besides, 
 My life was at that moment hateful to me. 
 I gladly seized the opportunity
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 75 
 
 To risk it for another for another, 
 Though but a Jewess. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 It is nobly spoken 
 Offensively and nobly. Yet I read 
 Your motive. Modest greatness shields itself 
 Behind offensive words from admiration. 
 But if it scorn the tribute of our praise, 
 Is there none other less contemptible ? 
 Knight, were you not a prisoner here, a stranger, 
 I should not be thus bold. Command me speak ! 
 What service can be done you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 None by you. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Yet I am rich. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 To me the richest Jew 
 Was ne er the best. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Might you not still employ 
 That better which he has employ his wealth ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Good ; there I will not wholly say you nay 
 E en for my mantle s sake. When this be worn 
 To tatters, so that neither shred nor stitch 
 Will hold together longer, I will come
 
 76 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 And borrow cloth or money for a new one. 
 
 Look not so troubled. You are safe a while. 
 
 Tis not yet come to that. See, it is still 
 
 In tolerable condition. Only here 
 
 It has an ugly spot ; this end was scorched. 
 
 But lately did it happen, as I bore 
 
 Your daughter through the fire. 
 
 NATHAN (taking hold of the corner and looking ai if). 
 
 Strange that a burn, 
 
 An ugly spot like that, should bear this man 
 A better testimony than his lips ! 
 Might I but kiss it kiss the spot I Ah, pardon, 
 Twas unawares. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 What? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 That a tear fell on it. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 No matter, it has had such drops before. 
 (I soon shall grow confused before this Jew.) 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Might I request the further favor of you, 
 That you would send your mantle to my daughter ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 What would she with it ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. JJ 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That her lips may press 
 
 The spot, since to embrace your knees, in vain 
 Is her desire. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 But, Jew your name is Nathan ? 
 But, Nathan you have spoken well, and sharply. 
 I know not what to answer. Surely I 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Disguise yourself, dissemble as you will. 
 Here too I ve found you out. You were too good, 
 Too honorable to be more polite. 
 A girl, all sentiment her waiting woman, 
 All eagerness to serve her father absent 
 You cared for her good name ; fled from her gaze 
 Fled that you might not conquer. Further cause 
 For thanks. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I must confess you know the motives 
 That ought to be a Templar s. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 But a Templar s ? 
 
 Ought only and because his Order bids ? 
 I know a good man s motives, and I know 
 Good men are everywhere. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 With no distinction ?
 
 7 8 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Distinguished by their color, form, and dress. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Not more or less in one place than another ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 All such distinctions are of small account. 
 The great man everywhere needs ample space : 
 Too many, closely planted, dash themselves 
 Against each other. Average ones, like us, 
 Stand everywhere in crowds. But let not one 
 Cast slurs upon the others. Knots and gnarls 
 Must live on friendly terms. One little peak 
 Must not take airs, as twere the only one 
 Not sprung from earth. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Well said ! But know you, Nathan, 
 What people practised first this casting slurs 
 What people were the first to call themselves 
 The chosen people ? How if I not hate, 
 Indeed but cannot help despising them 
 For all their pride, a pride which has descended 
 To Mussulman and Christian, that their God 
 Must be the one true God ? You start to hear 
 Such words from me, a Christian and a Templar. 
 When, where, has this fanaticism of having 
 The better God, and forcing him as best 
 On all the world, e er showed itself in colors
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 79 
 
 More black than here and now ? Who here and now 
 Feels not his eyes unsealed ? But be he blind 
 Who will ! Forget what I have said, and leave me. 
 
 [Going. 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You know not how much closer you have drawn me. 
 We must, we must be friends ! Despise my people 
 With all your heart. We neither chose our people. 
 Are we our people ? What does " people" mean ? 
 Is Jew or Christian rather Jew or Christian 
 Than man ? May I have found in you another 
 Who is content to be esteemed a man ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You have, by heaven, you have 1 Your hand ! I blush 
 That for a moment I should have misjudged you. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And I am proud ; for tis the vulgar only 
 That rarely is misjudged. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And but the rare 
 
 That s not forgotten. Nathan, yes, we must, 
 We must indeed be friends. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Are so already. 
 
 How Recha will rejoice ! And ah, how bright 
 The future opens to me ! Only know her !
 
 80 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I m burning with impatience. Who is this 
 Comes running from your house is it not Daja ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Tis she but why so troubled ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Oh, may naught 
 Have happened to our Recha ! 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 The preceding. DAJA enters hastily. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Nathan, Nathan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Well? 
 
 DAJA. 
 Pardon me that I disturb you, knight. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 What is it ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 What ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE: 8 1 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 The Sultan sent. 
 
 The Sultan wants to see you. Oh, good heaven 1 
 The Sultan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Me ? the Sultan ? He desires 
 To see what novelties I ve brought ; but tell him 
 That little nothing has been yet unpacked. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Naught will he see ; he wants to speak with you, 
 With you in person, soon, as soon as may be. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 I come. Go, go ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Be not displeased, dread knight. 
 We re so concerned to know the Sultan s pleasure ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 That will be known in time. Go, leave us now ! 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 NATHAN and the TEMPLAR. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Then know you him not personally yet ?
 
 82 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 The Sultan ? No. I ve neither shunned nor sought 
 
 him. 
 
 The common fame spoke far too well of him 
 For me not rather to believe than see. 
 But now though that be false, his saving of your 
 
 life 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes ; that at least is true. I hold my life 
 But as his gift. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He granted me with that 
 A double, threefold life. That changes all 
 Between us ; throws a sudden net about me 
 Which binds me to his service evermore. 
 Scarce can I wait to learn his first commands. 
 I am prepared for all ; and will confess 
 I am so for your sake. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Oft as I ve met him 
 
 I ve found no way to thank him yet myself. 
 The impression that I made upon him came 
 As suddenly as suddenly it passed. 
 It may be he remembers me no more : 
 Yet once at least he must remember me, 
 To speak my final sentence. Not enough 
 That I exist at his command ; have life
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 83 
 
 But by his will : he must decide whose will 
 Shall guide my life. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 True : I will haste the more. 
 Some word may furnish opportunity 
 To speak of you. Permit me pardon I haste. 
 When will you come to us ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Whene er I may. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Whene er you will. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 To-day, then. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 And your name, 
 I pray you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Was is Curd von Stauffen. Curd ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Von Stauffen Stauffen ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Does the name surprise you ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Von Stauffen ? Many of that name have here
 
 84 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Oh yes ; full many here have lived and died. 
 My uncle father But why fix your eyes 
 With such a growing eagerness upon me ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Oh, nothing, nothing ! Can I e er be weary 
 Of gazing on you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Then I leave you first. 
 The seeker s eye not seldom has discovered 
 More than the seeker wished. I dread it, Nathan. 
 Let time, not curiosity, cement 
 Our friendship. \He goes. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Oft the seeker s eye discovers 
 
 More than he wished. He seemed to read my soul. 
 That might befall me here. Tis not alone 
 Wolfs gait, Wolfs figure, but his voice as well. 
 Exactly so would Wolf throw back his head ; 
 So carried Wolf his sword ; so Wolf would shade 
 His brow to hide the flashing of his eyes. 
 How such deep-printed images will slumber 
 Within us,, till a word, a sound awakes them ! 
 Von Stauffen that was it. Filneck and Stauffen. 
 Of this I must know more, and presently. 
 But first to Saladin. Who s listening there? 
 Js it not Daja ? Come, come nearer, Daja.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 85 
 
 SCENE VIII, 
 DAJA. NATHAN. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What is it ? Ah, the weight on both your hearts 
 Is not what Saladin would have with me. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 You cannot blame her for it. At the moment 
 Your converse with him grew more intimate, 
 The Sultan s message drove .us from the window. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Tell her she may expect him every moment. 
 
 DAJA. 
 In truth ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 May I depend upon you, Daja ? 
 Be on your guard, I pray you. You will ne er 
 Have reason to repent it. E en your conscience 
 Will find account in it. Disturb me not 
 In what I plan. In all you ask and tell, 
 Use caution and reserve. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 How can you think 
 
 Of such a thing again ! I go : go you ! 
 For see, there surely comes from Saladin 
 A second messenger your dervise, Hafi. [Goes.
 
 86 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 NATHAN. AL-HAFI. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 Ha, ha ! I m just in search of you again. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Is it so urgent ? What s his will with me ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 Whose ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Saladin s. I come ; I come. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 To whom ? 
 To Saladin ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Did Saladin not send you ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 No. Has he sent before ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He has indeed. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 It is decided then. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 What ? What s decided ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 87 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 That I am not to blame ; God knows I m not. 
 What tales have I not told of you, what lies, 
 To avert it ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 What to avert ? What is decided ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 That you re his treasurer. I pity you. 
 At least I ll not stay by to see. I go ; 
 I go this hour. You know already whither, 
 And know the way. Have you commands for me 
 Upon the road ? Speak ! I am at your service. 
 But order nothing more than can be carried 
 Upon a naked back. Speak quick ! I m off ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Bethink yourself, Al-Hafi ; pray, consider 
 That I know nothing yet. What means your talk ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 Best take the bags with you at once. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The bags ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 The gold you re to advance to Saladin. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 So that is all ?
 
 88 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Shall I look on and see 
 How he will drain your marrow day by day, 
 Down to the very toes ; look on and see 
 How his extravagance will borrow, borrow, 
 And borrow from those barns ne er emptied yet 
 By your wise charities, till the poor mouse 
 That had its birth there shall be starved to death ? 
 Do you imagine he who needs your gold 
 Will take your counsel also ? He take counsel ! 
 Took Saladin e er counsel ? Hear what happened 
 When last I went to him. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Well ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 I arrived 
 
 When Sittah and himself had been at chess. 
 His sister plays not badly. There the game 
 That Saladin had given up for lost 
 Was standing on the board. I glanced at it, 
 And saw that it was far from lost. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Aha! 
 A great discovery for you. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 His king 
 
 But needed to advance upon the pawn 
 Against her check. If I could only show you !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 89 
 
 NATHAN. 
 I ll take your word for it. 
 
 AL-HAFI 
 
 For so the rook 
 
 Were brought into the field, and she were lost. 
 All that I wished to show, and called him. Think ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 He was not of your mind ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 He would not listen ; 
 Contemptuously overturned the board. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Is t possible ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 And said he would be mated. 
 He would be mated ! Do you call that playing ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Hardly indeed ; tis playing with the game. 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 And that for no mean stake. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Gold here, gold there ! 
 That is the least. But not to listen to you 
 8*
 
 9<D NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Upon a point so weighty not to listen, 
 And not admire your eagle eye that, that 
 Cries out for vengeance does it not ? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Nay, nay; 
 
 I do but tell you this to show the man. 
 I m at the end of all my patience with him. 
 Here must I run about mongst dirty Moors, 
 And ask who ll lend him. I who for myself 
 Have never begged, must borrow now for others. 
 To borrow scarce is better than to beg ; 
 As lending, lending upon interest, 
 Scarce better is than stealing. With my patrons 
 Beside the Ganges have I need of neither, 
 And need not to become the tool of either. 
 Beside the Ganges only are there men. 
 Here none but you is worthy of the life 
 Beside the Ganges. Will you come with me ? 
 Leave all your trumpery at once for him, 
 And so have done with it. By small degrees 
 He d have it out of you. Thus would the torment 
 At once be ended. I will get your delk. * 
 Come, come ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I ve thought of that as a reserve. 
 Yet I ll consider it, Al-Hafi. Wait 
 
 * The garb of a dervise.
 
 NATHAN THE WISH. 91 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Consider it ! No, no ; tis not a matter 
 To be considered. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Only till I ve seen 
 The Sultan only till I ve said farewell 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 He who considers does but seek excuse 
 For lack of courage. Who cannot resolve 
 Upon the instant for himself to live, 
 Remains forevermore the slave of others. 
 Do as you will ! Farewell ! As you think best ! 
 Here lies my road, there yours. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Al-Hafi, stay ! 
 You ll settle your accounts before you go? 
 
 AL-HAFI. 
 
 Oh, pshaw ! My property is not worth counting. 
 And for my debts why, Sittah or yourself 
 Must be my bail. Farewell ! [Goes. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I ll be your bail. 
 
 Wild, noble, good how shall I call him ? Truly, 
 The genuine beggar is the genuine king.
 
 92 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 Room in Nathan s house, RECHA. DAJA. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Tell me my father s words again, dear Daja. 
 He said I might expect him every moment. 
 Does it not sound as if he d soon be here ? 
 And yet how many moments have gone by 
 Since then ! Ah well, who thinks of them, the past? 
 I ll only live in every coming moment. 
 The one that brings him must be here at last. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Oh that unlucky message from the Sultan ! 
 Else Nathan would have brought him in that instant. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 And came he now, this instant ; were the warmest, 
 The fondest of my wishes now fulfilled 
 What then what then ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 What then ? Then should I hope 
 My warmest wish might also be fulfilled.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 93 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 What would supply the place within my breast, 
 Which swells no longer, uninspired by one 
 Supreme desire ? What ? Nothing ? Ah, I tremble. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 My wish shall take the place of yours fulfilled 
 To know you are in Europe, and in hands 
 Deserving of you. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 You re mistaken, Daja. 
 The motive that inspires that wish in you 
 Prevents it in myself. Your fatherland 
 Allures you ; and shall mine, shall mine not hold 
 
 me? 
 
 Shall images of home, unfaded yet 
 Within your soul, have greater power than home, 
 With all that I can see, and touch, and hear ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Resist with all your will the ways of Heaven 
 Are still the ways of Heaven. How if through him 
 Who saved your life, his God for whom he fights 
 Would lead you to the land and to the people 
 For which your birth designed you ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Daja, Daja ! 
 
 What mean such words? What strange conceits 
 you have !
 
 94 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 "His God for whom he fights!" Can God be 
 
 owned ? 
 
 What sort of God were he whom man could own 
 Who needs defenders ? How can any tell 
 The spot of earth for which his birth designed 
 
 him, 
 
 If not the spot on which it placed him ? Daja, 
 What if my father heard such words from you ! 
 What has he done that you should always paint 
 My happiness so far removed from him ? 
 What has he done that you desire to mix 
 The seeds of understanding he has sown 
 So pure within my soul, with weeds or flowers 
 From your own distant land ? You know, dear 
 
 Daja, 
 
 He ll none of your gay flowers upon my soil. 
 I, too, confess I feel my soil is w-eakened, 
 Exhausted by your flowers, e en though they grace it ; 
 And in their sweet, intoxicating fragrance 
 I grow bewildered, giddy. You, dear Daja, 
 Are more accustomed to it. No reproach 
 Upon the stronger nerves that can endure it ; 
 Only it suits not me. Your angel now ; 
 My head was well-nigh turned with it. I blush 
 E en now, before my father, at such nonsense. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Nonsense ! As if here only "there were sense ! 
 If I might only speak !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 95 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 And may you not ? 
 
 When was I not all ear to hear you tell 
 Of Christian heroes often as you would ? 
 When gave I not their deeds my admiration, 
 Their sufferings my tears ? True, their belief 
 I never held their greatest heroism ; 
 But all the more consoling was the lesson 
 That faith in God depends not on the views 
 We entertain of Him. That has my father 
 So often told us ; and yourself, dear Daja, 
 Have oft confirmed it. Why desire alone 
 To undermine what both have helped to build ? 
 But twere not well that we should meet our friend 
 With talk like this. And yet for me it is. 
 To me it matters infinitely whether 
 Hark, Daja ! Comes not some one to the door? 
 If it were he ! Hark, hark ! 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 RECHA, DAJA, and the TEMPLAR, for whom the door is 
 opened, with the words "Be pleased to enter." 
 
 RECHA (starts back, recovers herself, and is about to 
 throw herself at his fee f), 
 
 Tis he tis my preserver ! Ah !
 
 96 XATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Thus late 
 I came to shun a scene like this ; and yet 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Here at the feet of this proud man, once more 
 Will I give thanks to God, not to the man. 
 The man desires no thanks, desires as little 
 As does the water-bucket, kept so busy 
 In putting out the flames. Twas filled and emptied 
 In total apathy. So with the man. 
 Like that, he was but thrust into the fire ; 
 By accident I fell into his arms ; 
 There lay by accident within his arms, 
 E en as a spark might lie upon his mantle, 
 Till something what I know not threw us both 
 Beyond the flames. What cause for thanks in that? 
 Wine urges men to other deeds in Europe. 
 Twas but a Templar s duty. They, like dogs 
 Of somewhat higher training, have to fetch 
 From fire as well as water. 
 
 v - 
 
 TEMPLAR (who has been gazing on her with surprise 
 and disquiet). 
 
 Daja, Daja ! 
 
 If moments of distress and bitterness 
 Had made me harsh with you, why bring to her 
 Each foolish word that might escape my lips ? 
 Twas taking a too cruel vengeance, Daja. 
 Henceforth I hope for kindlier intercession.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 97 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Scarce think I, knight, these little stings of yours, 
 Flung at her heart, have harmed your cause with her. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Had you a grief, and were you of your grief 
 Less generous than of life ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Kind, gracious maiden ! 
 How is my soul divided betwixt eye 
 And ear ! Not this the maiden that I saved 
 It cannot, cannot be ; for who had known her 
 And not have saved her ? who would wait for me ? 
 Tis true that fear deforms. 
 
 \He pauses, lost in contemplation of her. 
 
 To be the same. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Yet I find you 
 
 \Another pause, until, to rouse him from his abstrac 
 tion, she continues^ 
 
 But you must tell us, knight, 
 Where you have been so long. I almost might 
 Ask, too, where you are now ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I am where I 
 Perhaps ought not to be.
 
 98 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 And where have been ? 
 
 Also, perhaps, where you should not have been ? 
 That is not well. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 On on which is the mountain ? 
 On Sinai. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Sinai ? Ah, I m glad ; for now 
 Can I learn surely if tis true 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What what ? 
 
 If it be true that there the spot is shown 
 Where in God s presence Moses stood, when 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 No; 
 
 Not that. Where er he stood, twas in God s presence. 
 Besides, I know enough of that already. 
 I only wanted you to tell me if 
 If it were true there s much less weariness 
 In climbing up that mountain than descending. 
 With all the mountains I have ever climbed 
 Twas just the contrary. Well, knight, how now? 
 You turn away you will not look at me ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 I would the better hear you.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 99 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 You would hide 
 
 Your smiles at my simplicity, your smiles 
 That no more worthy question can I ask 
 About that holy mountain, would you not? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Then must I look again into your eyes. 
 Ah, now you cast them down conceal your smiles ! 
 When I would read in features full of riddles 
 What I distinctly hear, will you disguise them ? 
 Ah, Recha, truly said he, "Only know her 1" 
 
 RECHA. 
 Who said of whom to you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Your father s words 
 To me in speaking of you " Only know her 1" 
 
 DAJA. 
 Did I not say it ? Did not also I ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 But where is he, your father ? Stays he yet 
 With Saladin ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 No doubt. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 So long ? Ah no : 
 Forgetful that I am ! he s there no longer ;
 
 100 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 But by the convent yonder waits for me. 
 So, I am sure, it was agreed between us. 
 Permit me, I will go, will bring him. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Nay ; 
 Leave that to me. Stay, stay, knight ! I will bring 
 
 him 
 Without delay. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Not so, not so. Myself, 
 Not you, is he expecting. And, besides, 
 He may who knows ? he may with Saladin 
 You do not know the Sultan ! may perchance 
 Have met with difficulties. There is danger, 
 Believe me, there is danger if I stay. 
 
 RECHA. 
 What danger ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Danger to myself, to you, 
 To him, unless I quickly, quickly go. [Goes. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 RECHA and DAJA. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 What means it, Daja ? Why so quick to leave us ? 
 What sudden thought could thus have urged him off?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. IOI 
 
 DAJA. 
 Let be let be. I hold it no bad sign. 
 
 RECHA. 
 A sign of what ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Something s astir within : 
 Tis boiling, and must not be let boil over. 
 Let him alone. Tis your turn now. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 My turn ? 
 You re unintelligible, like himself. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Soon the disquietude he made you suffer 
 You can requite him. Only, show yourself 
 Not too severe, too unrelenting towards him. 
 
 RECHA. 
 Whereof you speak, you must know best yourself. 
 
 DAJA. 
 So calm again ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 I am ; indeed I am. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Confess at least that his disquietude 
 Rejoices you, and that to it you owe 
 Whate er you have of calm. 
 
 Q*
 
 102 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Not consciously. 
 
 The most I could confess would be my wonder 
 That suddenly the storm within my heart 
 Should be succeeded by so deep a stillness. 
 His whole appearance, conversation, bearing 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 So soon have satisfied ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 Not satisfied. 
 No ; far from that 
 
 DAJA. 
 But stilled your hungry longing ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 If you will have it so. 
 
 DAJA. 
 Not I indeed. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 He will be always dear to me, far dearer 
 Than life itself; though at his name my pulse 
 No longer varies, and my heart no longer 
 Beats harder, faster when I think of him. 
 What nonsense am I talking ? Come, dear Daja, 
 We ll seek again the window toward the palms. 
 
 DAJA. 
 Tis not then wholly stilled, that hungry longing.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 103 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Once more shall I behold the palms again ; 
 Not only him beneath. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 This coldness then 
 Portends new fever. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Coldness ? I m not cold. 
 With equal pleasure do I look, though calmly. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Audience hall in Saladins palace. SALADIN. SITTAH. 
 
 SALADIN (speaking to some one without as he enters). 
 
 Admit the Jew the moment he arrives. 
 He s not disposed to hurry, it would seem. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 He was not there perhaps, in instant reach. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 O sister, sister ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 One would say a battle 
 Were threatening you.
 
 IO4 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 One to be waged with weapons 
 I never learned to use. I must dissemble ; 
 I must lay snares ; must be upon my guard ; 
 Must walk on ice. When could I ever that ? 
 Where learned I ever that ? And all for what 
 For what ? To fish for money all for money 1 
 To frighten money from a Jew for money ! 
 To such mean shifts am I reduced at last 
 To get the least of trifles ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Every trifle, 
 Unduly scorned, will be revenged, dear brother. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Alas, too true. But now suppose this Jew 
 Should be the wise good man the dervise once 
 Described him. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 If he should ! Where lies the harm ? 
 The usurious, careful, timid Jew alone 
 The snare is laid for not the wise, good man. 
 He without snares were ours. What joy to hear 
 How such a man would extricate himself ! 
 The downright force that would the meshes break, 
 Or crafty cunning that would disentangle 
 This pleasure will be all to boot.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 105 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That s true. 
 It were a joy indeed. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 There can arise 
 
 Naught further to disturb you. Is he one 
 Of many just a Jew like any Jew ? 
 To such a one why be ashamed to seem 
 What he believes all men to be ? Nay, more ; 
 Who should appear aught other, were to him 
 A fool, a dolt. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I must act meanly, therefore, 
 Lest I be meanly thought of by the mean. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 If mean you call it, dealing with each thing 
 According to its nature. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What contrivance 
 Of woman s brain will she not palliate ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Not palliate ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 My clumsy hands, I fear, 
 
 Will break this keen and subtle thing. It needs 
 To be conducted as twas first conceived,
 
 IO6 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 With all dexterity and cunning. Well, 
 I can but try ! I ll dance as best I may : 
 And yet would rather it were worse then better. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Trust not yourself too little. Do but will ! 
 I ll answer for you. See how men like you 
 Delight to make us think that with the sword, 
 The sword alone, you have achieved so much ! 
 The lion is ashamed, if with the fox 
 He ve hunted of the fox, not of the craft. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And how you women like to bring men down 
 To your own level ! Go, go ; leave me now ; 
 I know my lesson. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Leave you must I go ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 You had not thought to stay ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 If not to stay 
 Not in your sight yet in the adjoining room. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That you may listen ? If I m to succeed, 
 That neither, sister. Go ! the curtain stirs. 
 He comes ! Remain not near ; I ll see to it. 
 
 [As she leaves by one door, Nathan enters by another, 
 and Saladin seats himself. ]
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 1OJ 
 
 SCENE V. 
 SALADIN and NATHAN. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Come nearer, Jew, come nearer ! without fear ! 
 
 NATHAN 
 Tis for your foes to fear ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Your name is Nathan ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Yes. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 The wise Nathan ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 No. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ah ! well, you may 
 Not call yourself so, but the people do. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 May be. The people ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Think you I despise 
 
 The people s voice ? Long have I wished to know 
 The man they call the wise.
 
 IO8 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 If but in jest 
 
 They call him so ; if to the people s thought 
 The wise is but the prudent, and the prudent 
 But he who understands his own advantage ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 His true advantage mean you ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then indeed 
 
 The selfish were the wise ; then wise and prudent 
 Would be indeed the same. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I hear you prove 
 
 What you would fain deny. Man s true advantage, 
 Mistaken by the people, is known to you ; 
 Or has been sought by you ; has been the theme 
 Of your reflections ; that alone makes wise. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Which every man esteems himself to be. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Enough of modesty ; it nauseates 
 To hear but that, when we expect dry reason. 
 
 [Starts up. 
 
 Let us to business. But be honest, Jew, 
 Be honest !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. log 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Sultan, I will surely serve you, 
 In manner to deserve your further custom. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 How serve me? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You shall have the best of goods, 
 And at the lowest price. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What speak you of 
 Your merchandise ? My sister presently 
 Will do the chaffering with you. (That for her, 
 The listener !) I ve no business with the merchant. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then must you wish to learn what on my way 
 I may have seen, encountered of the foe, 
 Who is astir again ; if openly 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Nor yet is that my present business with you. 
 Of that I know already all I need. 
 In short 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Command me, Sultan. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I desire 
 Instruction of you in another matter
 
 IIO NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 In quite another. Since so great your wisdom, 
 I pray you tell me what belief, what law 
 Has most commended itself to you. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Sultan, 
 I am a Jew. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And I a Mussulman. 
 
 Between us is the Christian. Now, but one 
 Of all these three religions can be true. 
 A man like you stands not where accident 
 Of birth has cast him. If he so remain, 
 It is from judgment, reasons, choice of best. 
 Impart to me your judgment ; let me hear 
 The reasons I ve no time to seek myself. 
 Communicate, in confidence of course, 
 The choice you have arrived at through those reasons, 
 That I may make it mine. You are surprised 
 You weigh me with your glance ! May be that 
 
 Sultan 
 
 Had ne er such whim before ; which yet I deem 
 Not unbecoming in a Sultan. Speak 
 Your answer ! Or a moment would you have 
 To think upon it ? Good ; I grant it you. 
 (Can she be listening ? I ll surprise her then, 
 And learn if I ve done well.) But quick, be quick 
 With your reflections. I ll not tarry long. 
 
 [Goes into the adjoining room, as Stiiah had done.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. HI 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 NATHAN (alone.} 
 
 Hm ! extraordinary what a dilemma ! 
 What will the Sultan have ? I am prepared 
 For money, and he asks for truth for truth ! 
 And wants it hard and bare, as truth were coin. 
 Yes ; if an ancient coin which went by weight, 
 I grant you ; but this coinage of to-day 
 That s counted down, and has no other value 
 Except the stamp upon it ; that she s not. 
 Can truth be swept into the head like gold 
 Into a sack ? Which here is most the Jew 
 Is t I or he ? But stay ; what if the Sultan 
 Were not in earnest in his search for truth ? 
 Nay ; the suspicion he could use the truth 
 But for a snare, would be too mean. Too mean ? 
 Is aught too mean for princes ? Surely, surely. 
 With what abruptness made he his attack ! 
 One knocks and listens, if one comes as friend. 
 I ll be upon my guard with him. But how ? 
 To play the bigot Jew avails not here : 
 Still less no Jew at all. For if no Jew, 
 Well might he ask, why not a Mussulman ? 
 I have it, that will save me ; for with fables 
 Not children only can be entertained. 
 He comes : well, let him come !
 
 J J 2 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 SALADIN and NATHAN. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 (The coast is clear. ) 
 
 I m not returned too soon for you, I hope ; 
 You ve brought your meditations to a close ? 
 Speak them ; no soul can hear us. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I am willing 
 The world should hear us. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Nathan is so sure 
 
 Of his good cause ? Ah, that I call a sage ; 
 Never to hide the truth ; to stake on it 
 Your all ; your soul and body, goods and life. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 When necessary it shall be, and useful. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 With right I hope henceforth to bear my title, 
 Reformer of the world and of the law. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 A noble title certainly. Yet, Sultan, 
 Ere I bestow my perfect confidence, 
 Permit me to relate a story to you.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 113 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Why not ? I ever have been fond of stones 
 Well told. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 The telling well I do not promise. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Again so proudly modest ! Come, your story ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 In gray antiquity there lived a man 
 In Eastern lands, who had received a ring 
 Of priceless worth from a beloved hand. 
 Its stone, an opal, flashed a hundred colors, 
 And had the secret power of giving favor, 
 In sight of God and man, to him who wore it 
 With a believing heart. What wonder then 
 This Eastern man would never put the ring 
 Off from his finger, and should so provide 
 That to his house it be preserved forever ? 
 Such was the case. Unto the best-beloved 
 Among his sons he left the ring, enjoining 
 That he in turn bequeath it to the son 
 Who should be dearest ; and the dearest ever, 
 In virtue of the ring, without regard 
 To birth, be of the house the prince and head. 
 You understand me, Sultan ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Yes ; go on ! 
 10*
 
 114 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 From son to son the ring descending, came 
 To one, the sire of three ; of whom all three 
 Were equally obedient ; whom all three 
 He therefore must with equal love regard. 
 And yet from time to time now this, now that, 
 And now the third, as each alone was by, 
 The others not dividing his fond heart, 
 Appeared to him the worthiest of the ring ; 
 Which then, with loving weakness, he would promise 
 To each in turn. Thus it continued long. 
 But he must die ; and then the loving father 
 Was sore perplexed. It grieved him thus to wound 
 Two faithful sons who trusted in his word ; 
 But what to do ? In secrecy he calls 
 An artist to him, and commands of him 
 Two other rings, the pattern of his own ; 
 And bids him neither cost nor pains to spare 
 To make them like, precisely like to that. 
 The artist s skill succeeds. He brings the rings, 
 And e en the father cannot tell his own. 
 Relieved and joyful, summons he his sons, 
 Each by himself; to each one by himself 
 He gives his blessing, and his ring and dies. 
 You listen, Sultan ? 
 
 SALADIN (who, somewhat perplexed, has turned away), 
 
 Yes ; I hear, I hear. 
 But bring your story to an end.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 115 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Tis ended ; 
 
 For what remains would tell itself. The father 
 Was scarcely dead, when each brings forth his ring, 
 And claims the headship. Questioning ensues, 
 Strife, and appeal to law ; but all in vain. 
 The genuine ring was not to be distinguished ; 
 
 [After a pause, in which he awaits the Sullaris answer. 
 As undistinguishable as with us 
 The true religion. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 That your answer to me ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 But my apology for not presuming 
 Between the rings to judge, which with design 
 The father ordered undistinguishable. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 The rings ? You trifle with me. The religions 
 I named to you are plain to be distinguished 
 E en in the dress, e en in the food and drink. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 In all except the grounds on which they rest. 
 Are they not founded all on history, 
 Traditional or written ? History 
 Can be accepted only upon trust. 
 Whom now are we the least inclined to doubt ? 
 Not our own people our own blood ; not those
 
 Il6 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Who from our childhood up have proved their love ; 
 Ne er disappointed, save when disappointment 
 Was wholesome to us ? Shall my ancestors 
 Receive less faith from me, than yours from you ? 
 Reverse it : Can I ask you to belie 
 Your fathers, and transfer your faith to mine ? 
 Or yet, again, holds not the same with Christians ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 (By heaven, the man is right ! I ve naught to answer.) 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Return we to our rings. As I have said, 
 The sons appealed to law, and each took oath 
 Before the judge that from his father s hand 
 He had the ring, as was indeed the truth ; 
 And had received his promise long before, 
 One day the ring, with all its privileges, 
 Should be his own, as was not less the truth. 
 The father could not have been false to him, 
 Each one maintained ; and rather than allow 
 Upon the memory of so dear a father 
 Such stain to rest, he must against his brothers, 
 Though gladly he would nothing but the best 
 Believe of them, bring charge of treachery ; 
 Means would he find the traitors to expose, 
 And be revenged on them. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And now the judge ? 
 
 I long to hear what words you give the judge. 
 Go on !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. llj 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Thus spoke the judge : Produce your father 
 At once before me, else from my tribunal 
 Do I dismiss you. Think you I am here 
 To guess your riddles ? Either would you wait 
 Until the genuine ring shall speak ? But hold ! 
 A magic power in the true ring resides, 
 As I am told, to make its wearer loved 
 Pleasing to God and man. Let that decide. 
 For in the false can no such virtue lie. 
 Which one among you, then, do two love best ? 
 Speak ! Are you silent ? Work the rings but 
 
 backward, 
 
 Not outward? Loves each one himself the best? 
 Then cheated cheats are all of you ! The rings 
 All three are false. The genuine ring was lost ; 
 And to conceal, supply the loss, the father 
 Made three in place of one. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Oh, excellent ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Go, therefore, said the judge, unless my counsel 
 You d have in place of sentence. It were this : 
 Accept the case exactly as it stands. 
 Had each his ring directly from his father, 
 Let each believe his own is genuine. 
 Tis possible your father would no longer 
 His house to one ring s tyranny subject ;
 
 Il8 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 And certain that all three of you he loved, 
 Loved equally, since two he would not humble, 
 That one might be exalted. Let each one 
 To his unbought, impartial love aspire ; 
 Each with the others vie to bring to light 
 The virtue of the stone within his ring ; 
 Let gentleness, a hearty love of peace, 
 Beneficence, and perfect trust in God, 
 Come to its help. Then if the jewel s power 
 Among your children s children be revealed, 
 I bid you in a thousand, thousand years 
 Again before this bar. A wiser man 
 Than I shall occupy this seat, and speak. 
 Go ! Thus the modest judge dismissed them. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 God! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 If therefore, Saladin, you feel yourself 
 That promised, wiser man 
 
 SALADIN (rushing to him, and seizing his hand, which 
 he holds to the end). 
 
 I? Dust! I? Naught! 
 OGod! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 What moves you, Sultan ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Nathan, Nathan ! 
 Not ended are the thousand, thousand years
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 119 
 
 Your judge foretold ; not mine to claim his seat. 
 Go, go ! But be my friend. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 No further orders 
 Has Saladin for me ? 
 
 
 
 SALADIN. 
 None. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 None? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 No, none. 
 Why ask ? 
 
 -. NATHAN. 
 An opportunity I sought 
 To proffer a request. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Needs a request 
 An opportunity ? Speak ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I m returned 
 
 From distant journeyings to collect my debts. 
 Of ready money I ve too much on hand. 
 Times grow again uncertain. Scarce I know 
 Where safely to dispose it ; and I thought 
 That you, perhaps, since more is always needed 
 For an approaching war, might mine employ.
 
 I2O NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN (fixing his eyes upon him. ) 
 I will not ask you, Nathan, if Al-Hafi 
 Has been already with you ; will not ask 
 If no suspicion prompts this willing offer 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Suspicion ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I deserve it ; but forgive me ! 
 Why seek to hide it ? Frankly, twas my purpose 
 
 NATHAN. 
 To ask the same of me ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 
 
 It was indeed. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Then can we both be served. This Templar only 
 Prevents my sending you my whole supply. 
 You know the Templar. I ve a heavy debt 
 That first must be discharged to him. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 A Templar ? 
 
 You surely do not with your gold support 
 My bitterest foes ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I speak but of the one 
 Whose life you spared.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 121 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What bring you to my mind ! 
 The youth I d utterly forgot. You know him ? 
 Where is he ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Know you not how much your grace 
 Has flowed through him on me ? His new-found 
 
 life 
 He risked to save my daughter from the fire. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ah, did he so ? He looked like such an one. 
 So had my brother done, whom he resembles. 
 Is he still here ? Conduct him hither to me. 
 So often have I spoken to my sister 
 Of this her brother whom she never knew, 
 She must behold his image. Go, go find him ! 
 From one good deed, though born of naught but 
 
 passion, 
 
 How many other noble deeds will spring I 
 Go, find him ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Instantly ! It stands agreed 
 About the other. [Goes. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ah, why let I not 
 
 My sister listen ? To her, to her now ! 
 How shall I ever tell her of it all ? 
 
 [Goes out in the opposite direction. 
 ii
 
 122 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 
 Grove of palms near the Convent, where the TEMPLAR 
 awaits NATHAN. 
 
 TEMPLAR (walking to and fro in conflict with himself, 
 
 till he thus breaks forth}. 
 
 Here must the weary victim cease his struggles. 
 So be it then ! I will not, must not look 
 Into my heart more closely, nor forecast 
 The future for it. Enough that flight was useless, 
 Useless. And yet I could do nothing more 
 Than fly. Now come what must ! Too suddenly 
 To be evaded fell at last the blow 
 That oft and long I had refused to meet. 
 To see her, her I had so little wish 
 To see ; to see her, and resolve my eyes 
 Should never let her go Resolve ? Resolve 
 Is purpose, action. I was simply passive. 
 To see her, and to feel my very being 
 Was linked with hers, bound up in hers forever, 
 Was instantaneous. Life apart from her 
 Is inconceivable to me were death ; 
 And wheresoe er we may be after death, 
 There too were death. If that be love, then then 
 The Templar loves the Christian loves the Jewess. 
 What matter ? Many a prejudice already
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 123 
 
 Have I discarded in the Holy Land 
 
 Holy to me forever for that cause. 
 
 What will my Order further ? I, the Templar, 
 
 Am dead. The moment I became the prisoner 
 
 Of Saladin, I died unto my Order. 
 
 This head the Sultan gave, is it my old one? 
 
 Nay, tis a new one one that has no knowledge 
 
 Of the traditions by which that was fettered. 
 
 A better too ; and better calculated 
 
 To breathe my native air. That can I feel ; 
 
 For it is giving me the very thoughts 
 
 My father must have cherished here before me, 
 
 Unless I ve been imposed upon with fables. 
 
 Yet wherefore fables ? Credible enough ; 
 
 And never to my mind more credible 
 
 Than now, in danger as I am of stumbling 
 
 Where he has fallen. Fallen ? I will choose 
 
 Rather to fall with men than stand with children. 
 
 His approbation is secured to me 
 
 By his example ; and whose approbation 
 
 Could I desire besides ? If Nathan s Ah, 
 
 Still less can his encouragement be wanting 
 
 More dear than approbation. What a Jew ! 
 
 Yet one who chooses to be thought a Jew, 
 
 And nothing better. Here he comes in haste, 
 
 And glowing with delight, like all who come 
 
 From Saladin. Ho, Nathan !
 
 124 NATHAN THE WISE 
 
 SCENE IX. 
 NATHAN and the TEMPLAR. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Is it you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 You tarried long with Saladin. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Less long 
 
 Than you imagine. I was much delayed 
 In my departure. Truly, truly, Curd, 
 The man is equal to his fame ; his fame 
 Is but his shadow. I must tell you first 
 And quickly 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 What ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 He will have speech with you ; 
 Without delay he bids you to his presence. 
 First to my house with me, where his affairs 
 Demand my presence ; then we ll go together. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Your house I ne er again will enter, Nathan, 
 Till
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 125 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Have you been already spoken with her ? 
 Say, how does Recha please you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Past expression ! 
 
 But never never will I see her more ! 
 Else must you promise it may be forever. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 How must I understand your words ? 
 
 TEMPLAR (after a pause, suddenly throwing himself on 
 Nathan s neck], 
 
 My father ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Young man ! 
 
 TEMPLAR (starting back from him as suddenly). 
 Not son ? I pray you, Nathan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Friend ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Not son ? I pray you, Nathan ! I conjure you 
 By Nature s earliest ties ! Let later bonds 
 Not take precedence of them ! Be content 
 To be a man ! Reject me not ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Dear friend ! 
 n*
 
 126 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And son ? not son ? Not e en if gratitude 
 Have in your daughter s heart prepared the way 
 For love if both were waiting but your sign 
 To melt into each other ! You are silent ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 You take me by surprise, young knight. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Surprise ? 
 
 Surprise you with your own suggestions, Nathan ? 
 Sound they then unfamiliar from my lips ? 
 How take you by surprise ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Ere I e en know 
 What Stauflfen was your father ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Nathan, Nathan ! 
 
 At such a moment have you no emotion 
 Save curiosity? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 For in the past 
 A Stauffen well I knew : his name was Conrad. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 If twere my father s name ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Was it indeed ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 127 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 I bear my father s name, Curd. Curd is Conrad. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 My Conrad, though, could not have been your father ; 
 For he was like yourself he was a Templar ; 
 Ne er married. 
 
 TEMPLAR 
 Such a reason ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 For that 
 He might have been my father. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You are jesting. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And you are much too serious. Where s the harm ? 
 A bit of bastard ; a bar sinister ; 
 A mark it is, no wise to be despised. 
 But leave my ancestors unquestioned, Nathan ; 
 So shall your own go free. No faintest doubt 
 I mean to cast upon your pedigree. 
 No ; God forbid ! You trace it, branch by branch, 
 As high as Abraham ; and from him still up. 
 I know it well myself could swear to it. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 You re bitter ; but have I deserved it from you ?
 
 128 XATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Have I yet aught refused ? I would not hold you 
 Upon the instant to your word. No more. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 No more ? Ah, then forgive ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Come, come with me. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And whither ? to your house ? No, no ; not there 
 Not there ! it burns me ! I will wait you here. 
 Go. If I am to look on her again, 
 Twill be to gaze my fill ; if not too much 
 Already have I seen her. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 I will haste. 
 
 SCENE X. 
 THE TEMPLAR ; soon afterwards DAJA. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 More than enough ! how infinitely much 
 Man s brain will hold, and yet at times grows full 
 So suddenly, so suddenly grows full 
 With naught ! Vain, vain be it filled with what it 
 may !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 129 
 
 But patience ! Soon upon this swollen mass 
 The soul will work, and space be cleared, and light 
 And order reign again. Have I ne er loved 
 Before ? Was that not love, that love I deemed ? 
 Can only this be love ? 
 
 DAJA (approaching stealthily}. 
 Knight, Knight! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Who calls? 
 You, Daja? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Unperceived by him, I passed ; 
 Yet where you stand might he detect us. Come, 
 Come nearer me. This tree shall be our screen. 
 
 TEMPLAR 
 What is it ? why so secret ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Tis a secret 
 
 That brings me to you ; ay, a double secret ; 
 One known but to myself one lent to you. 
 What say you to exchanging ? Give me yours, 
 And mine will I confide to you. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Right gladly, 
 
 When first I know what you consider mine. 
 That doubtless shall I learn from yours. Begin !
 
 130 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Excuse me. No, Sir Knight, you first ; I follow. 
 Be sure my secret will avail you naught, 
 Have I not first your own. Quick, therefore, quick ! 
 Wait till I draw it from you, you will then 
 Have naught confided ; mine is still my own, 
 While yours is gone. Poor Knight ! that men should 
 
 think 
 Such secrets can be hidden from a woman ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Which oft we re quite unconscious of possessing. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Tis possible. Then will I kindly first 
 Acquaint you with your own. What meant it, Knight, 
 That with such headlong haste but now you fled ; 
 That you so left us wondering ; that with Nathan 
 You joined us not again ? Made Recha, then, 
 So slight impression, or so great ? So great ! 
 So great ! The flutterings of the poor charmed bird 
 You make me know, that s fastened to the perch. 
 Come, own you love her love her e en to madness, 
 And I will tell you 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Madness ? Truly, there 
 You speak of what you know. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Own then the love ; 
 I yield the madness.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 131 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 For it tells itself? 
 A Templar love a Jewess ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Little enough 
 
 Of reason seems there in it ; yet have things 
 Ofttimes a deeper reason than we think. 
 No new thing were it that unto himself 
 The Saviour should conduct us upon ways 
 The wise would scarce have chosen. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You are solemn. 
 
 (Yet if for Saviour read I Providence, 
 Is she not right ?) My curiosity 
 Is stirred beyond its wont. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 This is the land 
 Of wonders. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 (Of the wonderful indeed. 
 Could it be otherwise since here the world 
 Is met together ?) Take for granted, Daja, 
 Whatever you desire ; say that I love her ; 
 I cannot think of life without her ; that 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 In truth ? Then swear to make her yours, to save her, 
 For time and for eternity to save her.
 
 132 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 How so how can I so ? Can I then swear 
 What lies not in my power ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Tis in your power. 
 One word of mine shall put it in your power. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 That e en her father shall have naught against it ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 Why father ? Father ! Ah, he must consent. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Must, Daja ? Has he fallen among thieves ? 
 There is no must. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Well, well ; he must be willing 
 He must be glad at last. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 He must and glad ? 
 If I should tell you, Daja, tis a chord 
 I ve struck already ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 And he chimed not in ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 He answered with a discord that offended.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 133 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 What say you ? At the shadow of a wish 
 You showed for Recha, leaped he not for joy, 
 But drew with coldness back, raised difficulties ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Twas nearly so. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Then not one moment more 
 I hesitate. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Yet still you hesitate r 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 So good he is in all besides ! my debt 
 To him so great ! Oh that he would but hear ! 
 God knows my heart is bleeding thus to force him. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I pray you keep me not in this suspense ! 
 Yet if yourself uncertain whether good 
 Or evil, culpable or laudable 
 Your purpose, speak not. I ll forget there s aught 
 To be concealed. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 That spurs me on, checks not. 
 Know then that Recha is no Jewish maiden ; 
 She is a Christian. 
 
 TEMPLAR (coldly). 
 I congratulate you. 
 12
 
 134 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Found you the labor hard ? Let not the throes 
 
 Dismay you ! Still continue zealously 
 
 To people heaven, since you can naught for earth. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 How, Knight ! Deserves my confidence your scorn ? 
 Care you you, Christian, Templar, Lover too 
 Care you so little Recha is a Christian ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Especially a Christian of your making ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 You take me so ? No wonder then ! Not so ; 
 I d like to see who could convert her ! No ! 
 It is her happiness to have been long 
 What she has been prevented from becoming. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Tell all, or go ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 She is a Christian child ; 
 Of Christian parents born ; baptized 
 
 TEMPLAR (hastily}. 
 
 And Nathan? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Is not her father ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Nathan not her father ! 
 Know you what you are saying ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 135 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 The truth which oft 
 Has cost me tears of blood. He s not her father ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 But as his daughter brought her up ? A Christian 
 Brought up as Jewess ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 Yes. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And knows she not 
 
 What she was born ? ne er has she learned from him 
 That she was born a Christian, not a Jewess ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Never. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Not only did he train the child 
 In this delusion, but in this delusion 
 Allow the maid to rest ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Alas, too true ! 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Could Nathan, wise and good, allow himself 
 The voice of Nature thus to falsify ; 
 Thus misdirect the emotions of a heart 
 Which of themselves had flowed in other channels ? 
 A something you indeed have told me, Daja,
 
 136 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Which is of weight ; is big with consequences ; 
 Bewilders me ; throws doubt upon my course. 
 I must have time. Go ! He will come this way, 
 And might surprise us. Go ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Ah, that were death ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I am unfit to meet him. If you see him, 
 Say that before the Sultan he shall find me. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 No hint to him ! Reserve that till the last, 
 To take from you all scruples touching Recha. 
 But when you take her back to Europe, Knight, 
 Pray, leave me not behind. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 We ll see. Go, go !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 137 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The cloisters of the Monastery. The LAY-BROTHER; 
 afterwards the TEMPLAR. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Ay, ay ; the Patriarch s in the right ; tis true, 
 Of all the matters he intrusted to me, 
 Not many would succeed. But why intrust 
 Such matters to me ? I ve no knack at plotting, 
 Persuading, thrusting everywhere my nose, 
 In every dish my fingers. But for this 
 Did I forsake the world, to be involved 
 More deeply in it by affairs of others ? 
 
 TEMPLAR (approaching him hurriedly). 
 You re here, good brother ! I have sought you long. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 Me, Knight? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Have you so soon forgotten me ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Not so ; I only thought that ne er in life 
 Would further sight of you be granted me ; 
 12*
 
 138 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Although I prayed to Heaven it might. God knows 
 How much I loathed my errand to the Knight : 
 He knows if ready ear I hoped to find ; 
 Knows how I was rejoiced, at heart rejoiced, 
 That you would give it scarce a thought, but flatly 
 Rejected what would ill become a knight. 
 But now you seek me. It has taken effect. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 You know why I am come ? I scarce could tell. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 You have considered it ; find, after all, 
 The Patriarch not so wrong ; that fame and fortune 
 Lie in his offer ; that a foe s a foe, 
 Were he seven times our guardian angel. That, 
 All that, with flesh and blood you ve balanced well, 
 And come and offer for the work. Alas ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Good man, take comfort : not for that I come ; 
 Not therefore do I seek the Patriarch. 
 His offer do I still esteem as then. 
 For all the world could give, I would not lose 
 The approval once vouchsafed me by a man 
 So honest, kind, and true. I only come 
 To ask the Patriarch s counsel in a matter 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 The Patriarch s ? Seeks a knight a priest s 
 
 [Casting a frightened look around.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 139 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Yes, brother ; 
 The case is somewhat priestly. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Ne er would priest 
 Consult a knight, the case be e er so knightly. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 For tis the priest s prerogative to err : 
 One we ll not greatly envy him. Indeed, 
 Concerned this matter but myself alone, 
 Were I but to myself accountable, 
 What need of Patriarch ? But some things there are 
 I d rather do amiss by others judgment, 
 Than wisely by my own. Besides, I ve learned 
 Religion also is a party thing ; 
 The most impartial, as he deems himself, 
 Defends unconsciously his favorite side. 
 Since so it is, we must suppose it right. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 I would be silent understanding not 
 The Knight. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And yet (what is it here I want 
 Decree or counsel ? counsel plain or learned ?) 
 Thanks, brother, for the hint. Why Patriarch ? 
 Be you my Patriarch ; for it is the Christian 
 Within the Patriarch that I would consult, 
 And not the Patriarch in the Christian. Listen !
 
 I4O NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 No further, Knight no further ! To what purpose? 
 The Knight mistakes me. He who has much know 
 ledge 
 
 Has- many cares, and I am pledged to one. 
 But see he comes himself, most happily. 
 Wait where you are ; already he has seen you. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 The PATRIARCH advancing in great pomp on one side of 
 the cloisters, and (he preceding. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I would I could escape. He s not my man ! 
 A red, fat, jolly prelate ; and what state ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 See him arrayed for court ! Now he but comes 
 From visiting the sick. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 How Saladin 
 Must blush before him ! 
 
 PATRIARCH (signs to the Brother). 
 
 Here ! I see the Templar. 
 What will he have ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 141 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 I know not. 
 
 PATRIARCH (approaching the Templar, while the brother 
 and attendants fall back}. 
 
 Ah, Sir Knight- 
 Most glad so gallant a young man to greet ; 
 Ay, still so young ! Great things will come of you, 
 God helping. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Scarcely greater, reverend Sir, 
 Than what have come ; more likely somewhat less. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 I hope at least a knight so pious may bloom 
 And flourish long, an honor and a gain 
 To Christendom and to the cause of God ; 
 Which cannot fail if, wisely, youthful daring 
 Will use the ripe experience of age. 
 How can I serve the Knight ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 By giving that 
 In which my youth is wanting counsel. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Gladly, 
 Provided, only, counsel will be taken. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Not blindly, certainly ?
 
 142 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 I say not blindly. 
 
 No man indeed should fail to use the reason 
 That God has given him in its proper place. 
 But is that everywhere ? Oh no ! For instance : 
 Should God vouchsafe to show us by an angel 
 That is, a servant of His holy word 
 A means of furthering, establishing 
 The welfare of all Christendom, the good 
 Of Holy Church in an especial manner, 
 Who would presume to let his reason question 
 The absolute authority of Him 
 Who made that reason try the eternal law 
 Of Heaven s high majesty by narrow rules 
 Of idle honor ? But enough of this. 
 Now on what question seeks the Knight our counsel ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Suppose, most reverend Father, that a Jew 
 Should have an only child, an only daughter 
 Trained up in every virtue by his care, 
 Loved more than his own soul, who, in return, 
 Loves him with fond devotion and twere told 
 To one of us the girl was not his daughter ; 
 That he had bought, found, stolen her, what you will, 
 In childhood ; and that further it was known 
 She was a Christian, and had been baptized, 
 The Jew had only brought her up a Jewess, 
 Would only have her taken for a Jewess,
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 143 
 
 And his own daughter. Say, most reverend Father, 
 How shall such case be dealt with ? 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Ah, I shudder ! 
 
 First let the Knight explain if this be fact 
 Or but hypothesis ; that is to say, 
 If he invented it, or if twere done, 
 Be doing now. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 That deem I unimportant ; 
 I would but learn your Reverence s opinion. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Deem unimportant ! There the Knight may see 
 How pride of human reason will mislead 
 In matters spiritual. Not unimportant ; 
 For is the case proposed a play of wit, 
 It merits not my serious reflection. 
 I should refer the Knight to any theatre 
 Where with applause the pros and cons are argued. 
 But if the Knight put no stage trick upon me ; 
 If this be fact ; if in our diocese, 
 In our dear city of Jerusalem, 
 He have been witness to it ; then 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What then ? 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Then should be executed on the Jew, 
 Without delay, the penalty decreed
 
 144 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Against such crimes, such outrages, by laws 
 Imperial and papal. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 So? 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Those laws 
 
 Decree to any Jew who from the faith 
 A Christian shall pervert, the stake the flames 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 So? 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 How much more to one who shall have torn 
 By violence from her baptismal vows 
 A Christian child ! For all is violence 
 That s done to children, is it not ? that is, 
 Excepting what the Church may do to children. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 But if the child in misery had died, 
 Unless the Jew had had compassion on it ? 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 It matters not ; the Jew goes to the stake ! 
 Better the child had died in misery here 
 Than thus be saved for everlasting ruin. 
 Besides, why need the Jew anticipate 
 God s providence ? Without him God can save, 
 If save he will.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 145 
 
 | 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 And e en in spite of him, 
 I trow, accord salvation. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Matters not ; 
 The Jew goes to the stake ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I grieve to hear it. 
 
 The more because the girl is trained, tis said, 
 In no religion rather than his own ; 
 And has been taught no more nor less of God 
 Than satisfies her reason. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Matters not ; 
 
 The Jew goes to the stake ! a triple stake, 
 For that alone he d merit. Let a child 
 Grow up with no religion teach it naught 
 Of the important duty of believing ! 
 That is too much ! I marvel, Knight, that you 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 The rest in the confessional, God willing, 
 Most reverend Sir. \About to go. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 You give no explanation ? 
 You name me not this criminal, this Jew ? 
 Produce him not ? But I have means at hand. 
 13
 
 146 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 I ll instantly to Saladin. The Sultan, 
 
 According to the treaty he has sworn, 
 
 Must, must protect us ; in the rights, the doctrines 
 
 That for the true religion we may claim, 
 
 He must protect us. The original, 
 
 Thank God, is ours. We have his hand and seal. 
 
 Twere easy to convince him, too, the State, 
 
 By this believing nothing, is endangered ; 
 
 All hold upon the citizen dissolved, 
 
 When he s permitted to believe in nothing. 
 
 Away with such a scandal ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I regret 
 
 Not having greater leisure to enjoy 
 So excellent a sermon. Saladin 
 Has summoned me. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 The Sultan ? Then indeed 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I will, if it shall please your Reverence, 
 Prepare the Sultan. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 Ah ! The Knight, I know, 
 Found favor with the Sultan. I but pray 
 To be remembered favorably to him. 
 My only motive is my zeal for God. 
 If I in aught exceed, tis for his sake.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 147 
 
 I pray the Knight will so consider it. 
 
 That tale about the Jew was but a problem 
 
 Not so, Sir Knight ? That is to say 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 A problem. [Goes. 
 
 PATRIARCH. 
 
 (Yet one that must be sifted to the bottom. 
 Another excellent commission that 
 For brother Bonafides.) Here, my son ! 
 
 {Goes out in conversation with the Lay-brother. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A room in the Sultan s palace. A number of slaves 
 bring in bags and lay them side by side upon the floor. 
 SALADIN ; soon afterwards SITTAH. 
 
 SALADIN (entering). 
 What ! Tis not ended yet ! Is much remaining ? 
 
 SLAVE. 
 As much again. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Then take the rest to Sittah. 
 Where tarries Hafi ? Hafi should be here 
 To take immediate charge of this. Or were it 
 Not better carried to my father ? Here
 
 148 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 It will but slip away from me. Tis true, 
 
 One s heart grows hard at last ; and even now 
 
 Twould take some skill to squeeze much out of me. 
 
 At least, until the moneys come from Egypt, 
 
 The poor must make what shift they can. The alms 
 
 About the sepulchre, if only they 
 
 Might be continued ; if the Christian pilgrims 
 
 Need only not go empty-handed ; if 
 
 SITTAH. 
 What means all this ? Why all this gold for me ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Repay yourself from it, and lay up store, 
 If any s over. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Nathan not yet come 
 With the young Templar ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 He is everywhere 
 In search of him. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 See what I found but now, 
 While searching mongst my jewels. 
 
 [Shcrwing him a miniature. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ha ! My brother ! 
 Tis he tis he ! Was he was he ! Alas !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 149 
 
 My noble boy ! oh, why so early lost ! 
 
 What might I not have done, with you beside me ? 
 
 Leave me the picture, Sittah. Well I know it. 
 
 He gave it to your sister, to his Lilla, 
 
 One morning when she hung about his neck, 
 
 And would not let him go. It was the last. 
 
 He rode abroad. I let him go alone. 
 
 Poor Lilla died of grief, and ne er forgave me 
 
 That I should let him thus ride forth alone. 
 
 He came not back. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Poor brother ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Be it so ! 
 
 One day we all shall go and come not back. 
 Besides who knows Not death alone defeats 
 The hopes of such as he. More foes he has ; 
 And oft the strongest yields him like the weakest. 
 Be with him as it may ! The Templar s face 
 I must compare with this ; must read in this 
 How far my fancy has misled me. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Yes; 
 
 For that I brought it here. But give it me ! 
 I ll tell you best ; a woman s eye sees quicker. 
 
 SALADIN (to an attendant who enters}. 
 Who s there ? If tis the Templar, bid him enter. 
 13*
 
 150 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 That you be not disturbed, nor he confused 
 By my examination 
 
 [Seats herself upon a sofa, her face partly averted, 
 and drops her veil. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That is well ! 
 
 (Now for his voice how will it be with that ? 
 The tones of Assad slumber still within me.) 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 The TEMPLAR and SALADIN. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Your prisoner, Sultan 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Prisoner ? Grant I life, 
 And grant not freedom too ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What you may grant 
 Tis mine to learn, and not anticipate. 
 But, Sultan, thanks to offer for my life 
 Accords not with my character or Order. 
 At any call that life is at your service.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 151 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I ask you but to use it not against me. 
 My foe I grudge not one more pair of hands ; 
 But twould go hard one more such heart to give him. 
 I ve been in naught deceived in you, young man 
 You re Assad o er again in form and soul. 
 Yea, I might ask you where through all these years 
 You ve been in hiding ; sleeping in what cave ; 
 What kindly power, within what Ginnistan, 
 Has kept my flower from year to year so fresh. 
 I might attempt to call up memories 
 Of what we did together here or there ; 
 Might chide you that you kept one secret from me ; 
 Excluded me from one adventure. Yes, 
 That might I if I look not at myself, 
 But only you. Enough. Of these sweet dreams 
 So much at least is true, that in my autumn 
 An Assad is to bloom for me again. 
 Consent you, Knight ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Whatever comes from you 
 Already lies, a wish, within my heart. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That test we on the instant. Stay with me, 
 About me. As a Mussulman or Christian, 
 Alike to me ! In turban or in hat, 
 White cloak or Turkish mantle as you will ! 
 I ne er required one bark on every tree.
 
 152 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Else were you not, as now you are, the hero, 
 Who fain would be God s husbandman. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 So then, 
 If thus you judge me, we are half agreed. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Quite I 
 
 SALADIN {offering his hand], 
 Done? 
 
 TEMPLAR (grasping * /). 
 A bargain ! More receive with this 
 Than you could force from me. I m wholly yours ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Too much to gain in one short day too much ! 
 Came he not with you here ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Who? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Nathan. 
 
 TEMPLAR (coldly). 
 
 No; 
 I came alone. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Yours was a noble deed ;
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 153 
 
 And what a happy chance that such a deed 
 Should work the good of such a man ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Oh yes. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 So coldly ? Nay, young man, be not so cold 
 When you are made God s instrument for good ; 
 Nor wish through modesty so cold to seem. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Why are all things on earth so many-sided, 
 And all their sides so hard to reconcile ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Hold always to the best, and give God thanks. 
 Tis His to reconcile them. But, young man, 
 If you will be so difficult, I too 
 Must be upon my guard with you. I too, 
 Alas, have many sides which oft seem hard 
 To reconcile. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 You pain me ; for suspicion 
 Is scarce among my faults. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Whom, then, suspect? 
 
 Nathan, it seems ; but how ? Nathan suspected ? 
 Explain ; give your first proof of confidence.
 
 154 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Naught have I against Nathan ; with myself 
 I m angry. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And for what ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 For having dreamed 
 
 That Jew could e er be aught but Jew ; that waking 
 I should have dreamed. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Out with your waking dream ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Of Nathan s daughter you have heard. The deed 
 I did for her, I did because I did it. 
 Too proud to reap the thanks I had not sowed, 
 I haughtily refused from day to day 
 To see the girl. The father was away : 
 But he returns ; he hears ; he seeks me out ; 
 He thanks me ; hopes that I may like his daughter ; 
 He talks of happy prospects for the future. 
 And I allow myself to be persuaded ; 
 Go, see her, find indeed a maiden Ah, 
 I must take shame upon me, Sultan. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Shame? 
 Because a Jewish maiden charmed you ? Never.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 155 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Because my over-hasty heart, misled 
 By Nathan s flattering words, scarce made resistance. 
 Oh fool ! again I sprang into the flames ; 
 For now I sued, and now was I disdained. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Disdained ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Kot utterly did he reject me, 
 The cautious father : but he must consider ; 
 Must make inquiries. Did I not the same? 
 Did I not first consider and inquire, 
 When she was shrieking in the flames ? By heaven ! 
 A noble thing to be so wise, so cautious ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Nay ; be indulgent to his years ! How long 
 Will his refusal hold ? till you turn Jew ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Who knows ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Who knows ? He who reads Nathan better. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 That superstition which has grown with us, 
 Know it for superstition though we may, 
 Relaxes not for that its hold upon us. 
 Not all who scorn their chains are free.
 
 156 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Well said ; 
 But Nathan 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Tis the worst of superstitions 
 To deem one s own the most endurable. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 That may be so ; but Nathan 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 As the one 
 
 In which alone purblind humanity 
 May trust, till it can bear the clearer day 
 Of truth ; the only one 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Well, well ; but Nathan ! 
 Such weakness cannot be the doom of Nathan. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 So thought I too ; but if this paragon 
 Were so the common Jew, that Christian children 
 He seeks to gain, to bring them up as Jews 
 What then ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Who is it brings such charge against him ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 That very maiden he decoyed me with, 
 With hope of whom he seemed so glad to pay
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 157 
 
 The service I was not to be allowed 
 To render her for nothing ; she herself 
 Is not his daughter, but a Christian child 
 Lost to her faith. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Whom yet he could refuse you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Refuse or not, I have discovered him ! 
 This tolerant pretender is exposed ! 
 I ll set upon the track of this Jew wolf 
 In his sheep s clothing of philosophy, 
 Hounds that shall tear and worry. 
 
 SALADIN (earnestly}. 
 
 Gently, Christian ! 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What ! gently, Christian ? Mussulman and Jew 
 Are to insist on Mussulman and Jew, 
 And only Christians must not make a Christian ? 
 
 SALADIN (more earnestly). 
 Be gentle, Christian ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Fully do I feel 
 
 The burden of reproach that Saladin 
 Compresses in those words. If I but knew 
 How Assad would have done, had he been here ! 
 14
 
 158 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 But little better ; just as violent. 
 Who taught you thus to bribe me with a word, 
 Like him ? Indeed, if what you tell be true, 
 I have been disappointed in this Nathan. 
 Still he s a friend : ne er must one friend of mine 
 Have quarrel with another. Be advised ; 
 Move cautiously ; denounce him not in haste 
 To your fanatics ; rather hide a deed 
 Your priesthood would appeal to me to avenge. 
 Be not a Christian to the injury 
 Of Jew or Mussulman. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Almost too late ! 
 
 Thanks to the Patriarch s eagerness for blood 
 I shrank from being his tool. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ere seeking me 
 You sought the Patriarch ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 In the storm of passion, 
 
 The whirl of doubt ! Forgive ! No more of Assad 
 Will you acknowledge in me now, I fear. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That very fear ! Methinks I know the faults 
 From which our virtue grows. Cherish but this,
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 159 
 
 And those shall not weigh heavily against you. 
 But go ; seek Nathan as he sought for you, 
 And bring him hither. I must clear away 
 All difference between you. Are you earnest 
 About the maiden, be at rest. She s yours ; 
 And Nathan pays the penalty for keeping 
 A Christian child from eating pork. Now go ! 
 
 SCENE V. 
 SALADIN and SITTAH. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Most wonderful ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Confess, a handsome boy 
 My Assad must have been. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 If it be he 
 
 The picture represents, and not the Templar. 
 But how could you forget to learn his parents ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And chief, his mother if she e er were here ? 
 Is that it, Sittah ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 You shall pay for that 1
 
 160 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Naught likelier ; for such a favorite 
 Was Assad with the beauteous Christian ladies, 
 Was of the Christian ladies so enamored, 
 The story ran Nay, best not speak of it. 
 Enough, I have him back ; with all his faults, 
 With all the fancies of his too fond heart, 
 Will have him back. O Sittah, must not Nathan 
 Give him the maiden ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Give her ? Leave her to him ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 True ; for what right has Nathan over her, 
 If he be not her father ? Who preserved 
 Her life, alone can claim the rights of him 
 Who gave it. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 How if you should place the maiden 
 Beneath your own protection, Saladin 
 At once withdraw her from her wrongful keeper ? 
 
 SALADIN 
 Would that be necessary ? 
 
 SITTAH, 
 
 Necessary 
 
 Indeed tis not ; my curiosity 
 Alone suggests the counsel. There are men 
 Of whom I d know at once what girl they love.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. l6l 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Send for her then. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Have I permission, brother ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Spare Nathan only ; Nathan must not think 
 We want to force her from him. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 . 
 
 Have no fear. 
 SALADIX. 
 And I myself must learn what keeps Al-Hafi. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 
 The open court of Nathan s house, looking toward the 
 palms, as in first scene of first act. Some of the 
 wares therein mentioned are lying about unpacked. 
 NATHAN and DAJA. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Oh, all is beautiful all exquisite ! 
 All such as only you could give. Whence came 
 That silver stuff with golden vines upon it ? 
 How costly was it ? That s a wedding-dress ! 
 No queen could want a better. 
 14*
 
 1 62 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Wedding-dress ! 
 Why wedding-dress ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 That was not in your mind 
 
 When you were buying ; but that it must be, Nathan ; 
 No other one than that. Tis as twere made 
 To grace a bridal. See ; the ground of silver, 
 A type of innocence ; the golden streams 
 That twine themselves in all directions on it, 
 A type of riches. Perfect, is it not ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What fancies are you weaving ? Whose the dress 
 That you re so learnedly interpreting ? 
 Are you the bride ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 I? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Who then ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 I ? Good heavens ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Who then ? Whose wedding-dress ? All this is yours, 
 Yours only. 
 
 DAJA. 
 Mine? All meant for me not Recha?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 163 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Another bale holds those I brought for Recha. 
 Away with them ! off with your silken stuffs ! 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 No, tempter ; all the treasures of the world 
 I would not touch, unless you swear to me 
 This single opportunity to seize, 
 Whose like heaven scarce a second time will grant. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 How seize ? the opportunity for what ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Feign not such ignorance ! In short, the Templar 
 Loves Recha. Give her to him. Thus your sin, 
 Whose secret I can keep for you no longer, 
 Is ended ; Recha is restored to Christians 
 Becomes herself again will be again 
 What at the first she was ; and all your kindness, 
 For which no words can give you fitting thanks, 
 Heaps coals of fire no more upon your head. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The same old story to another tune, 
 For which, I fear, it has no sense or measure. 
 
 DAJA. 
 How so ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Against the Templar have I naught.
 
 1 64 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Rather to him than any in the world 
 
 Would I give Recha. But you must have patience. 
 
 DAJA. 
 Patience ! that s your old story o er again. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yet a few days have patience. See, who comes? 
 A brother from the convent ? Ask his pleasure. 
 
 DAJA. 
 What can he want ? 
 
 [She approaches and questions him. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Give and before he asks. 
 (Could I approach the Knight, yet tell him not 
 The motive of my curiosity ! 
 Were that revealed and my suspicion false, 
 The secret of her birth is told in vain.) 
 What is it ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 He would speak with you. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Admit him ; 
 And leave us.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 165 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 NATHAN and the LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 (Would that Recha s father still 
 I might remain ! Why can I not, e en though 
 Without the name ? That she herself would give, 
 Did she but know how gladly I would own it.) 
 What can I do to serve you, brother ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Little. 
 I m glad to see that Nathan keeps in health. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 You know me then ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Who knows you not ? Your name 
 Has been imprinted in too many hands. 
 For many years has it been writ in mine. 
 
 NATHAN {feeling for his purse). 
 Come, brother, come ; let me refresh it. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Thanks ! 
 
 I take no alms ; twere stealing from the poorer. 
 With your permission, I d refresh in you
 
 1 66 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 The imprint of my own ; for I can boast 
 That in your hand a thing of no small value 
 By me was laid. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Your pardon I am shamed ! 
 Say what it was, and take seven times its worth 
 As an atonement. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 Hark, while I shall tell 
 How first to-day the memory of that trust 
 By me confided to you was awakened. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Trust you confided me ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Not long ago, 
 
 On Quarantana, near to Jericho, 
 I dwelt a hermit. Arab robbers came, 
 Destroyed my cell and little house of God, 
 And took me captive ; but I happily 
 Escaped their hands, and to the Patriarch 
 I hither fled to beg another place, 
 Where I might serve my God in solitude 
 Until my blessed end. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I m on the rack, 
 
 Good brother. Make it brief ! The trust the trust 
 Confided to me !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. l6j 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 Yet a moment, Nathan. 
 The earliest vacant hermitage on Tabor 
 The Patriarch promised me, and bade me stay 
 Meanwhile within the convent as a brother. 
 There am I now, and hundred times a day 
 I long for Tabor ; for the Patriarch 
 Puts every loathsome errand on me. Thus 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Be quick, I pray you. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 This is it. A Jew, 
 
 So some one whispered in his ear to-day, 
 Is living here among us, who has trained 
 A Christian child as though she d been his daughter. 
 
 NATHAN (amazed). 
 What ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Hear me out ! When he commissions me 
 To ferret out this Jew without delay, 
 No matter where ; and flies into a passion 
 Against so black a crime, which he esteems 
 The very sin against the Holy Ghost 
 The sin, that is, which of all other sins 
 Brings greatest guilt upon us ; though, thank God, 
 We know not well in what that sin consists 
 Then suddenly my conscience was awakened ; 
 The thought arose that possibly myself,
 
 1 68 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 In years gone by, had furnished the occasion 
 For this unpardonable sin. For say, 
 Did not a groom deliver to your care, 
 Some eighteen years ago, an infant child ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 How say you ? Twas indeed yes, surely 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Nathan, 
 Look at me well ! That groom was I ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Was you ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The Knight from whom I brought it you was named, 
 If I mistake not, Filneck Wolf von Filneck. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 You re right. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The mother had but lately died ; 
 The father was commanded suddenly 
 To throw himself on Gazza, as I think, 
 Where the poor baby could not follow him, 
 And so was sent to you. Twas in Darun, 
 I think, we found you. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Right !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 169 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 It were no wonder 
 
 If memory played me false ; so many masters 
 I ve served, and this one for too brief a season. 
 At Askalon soon afterward he fell. 
 A man to love he was. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 He was indeed. 
 
 How many, many services I owe him ! 
 He more than once preserved me from the sword. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Good ; all the readier must you then have been 
 To adopt his little child. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You may believe it ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Where is she, then ? She surely is not dead ! 
 Grant she may not have died ! If no one else 
 Have learned her story, happy is her fate. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 You think so ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Trust me, Nathan ; thus I argue ; 
 If close beside the good which I propose 
 Great evil lurk, I leave the good undone ; 
 Since of the evil can be little doubt,
 
 iyO KATHA2? THE WISE. 
 
 But of the good there s much. Twas natural 
 If you would train the Christian s daughter well, 
 To train her as your own. This have you done 
 In love and truth but to be so rewarded ? 
 I ll not believe it. Wiser had it been 
 The Christian to have trained at second-hand 
 A Christian ; but you would not then have loved 
 The little daughter of your friend ; and children 
 Need love, though but a wild beast s love it be, 
 In those first years, above Christianity. 
 Christianity will still find time enough. 
 Have but the child in health and innocence 
 Grown up before your eyes, in sight of God 
 She s as she was. Has not Christianity 
 Its root in Judaism ? It oft has vexed, 
 Provoked me e en to tears, to see how Christians 
 Forget our Saviour was himself a Jew. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Good Brother, you must intercede for me 
 When hatred and hypocrisy shall rise 
 Against me for a deed ah, for a deed 
 You, you alone shall know it. Bear it with you- 
 Into your grave. Ne er yet has vanity 
 Seduced me into telling it to man. 
 I tell it only to yourself. I tell it 
 To pious simplicity alone ; for that 
 Alone can know what victories over self 
 Are possible to the devout believer.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. IJl 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 Your heart is stirred ; the tears are in your eyes ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You found me at Darun the child and you. 
 You did not know that Christians just before 
 Had murdered all the Jews that were in Gath 
 Men, women, children ; knew not that my wife 
 And sons, seven hopeful sons, were there among 
 
 them, 
 
 And in my brother s house, where they had fled 
 For safety, must have perished in the flames. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 All-gracious God ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Three days and nights I d lain 
 In dust and ashes before God, and wept 
 When you arrived. Wept ? I had wrestled hard 
 At times with God ; had stormed and raved ; had 
 
 cursed 
 
 Myself and all the world ; had sworn a hate 
 Against the Christians, unappeasable. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 I can believe it ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Gradually my reason 
 
 Returned to me. She spoke with gentle voice : 
 "And yet God is : e en this was God s decree !
 
 172 NATHAX THE WISE. 
 
 Up, then ! and practise what you ve long believed. 
 
 To practise cannot be more difficult 
 
 Than to believe, if you but will. Rise up !" 
 
 I stood erect and cried to God : "I will ! 
 
 Oh, will Thou that I will !" Dismounting then, 
 
 You handed me the child, wrapped in your cloak. 
 
 All that you said to me, or I to you, 
 
 Has been forgot. I know but this : I took 
 
 The child ; I laid it on my bed ; I kissed it ; 
 
 I threw myself upon my knees, and sobbed, 
 
 "O God ! of seven, Thou grantest me one again ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 You are a Christian, Nathan ! Yes, by heaven, 
 You are a Christian ! Never was a better ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What makes of me a Christian in your eyes, 
 Makes you in mine a Jew. Happy for both ! 
 But let us not unman each other longer. 
 This calls for deeds. Although a sevenfold love 
 Soon bound me to this lonely stranger girl 
 Although the thought of losing all my sons 
 Again in her is death if Providence 
 Should claim her back from me, I will obey. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 That perfects all ! That was the very counsel 
 My heart had longed to give you, and already 
 Had it been prompted by your own good spirit.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 173 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Only must not the very first who comes 
 Expect to tear her from me ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 * 
 
 Surely not ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Who has no greater right to her than I, 
 Must prove at least an earlier 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Surely, surely ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Which nature and the ties of blood confer. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 That I acknowledge. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Name me then the man 
 Who bears relationship to her as brother, 
 Or uncle, cousin any kith or kin : 
 To him I ll not refuse her her so formed 
 By nature and by training to become 
 The jewel of every house, of every faith. 
 You knew your master and his lineage 
 More fully than myself, I hope. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 But little. 
 15*
 
 174 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 I served the Knight, as you already know, 
 Too short a time. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The mother s family, 
 Know you not that at least ? Was she*a Stauffen ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 Tis possible. Methinks she was. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Her brother, 
 
 Was he not Conrad ? was he not a Templar ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 If I mistake not. Stay ; I have a book 
 That was the Knight s. I took it from his breast 
 The day we buried him at Askalon. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Well? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 There are prayers in it a breviary, 
 We call it. That, thought I, a Christian man 
 May still find useful. Not myself indeed ; 
 I cannot read 
 
 NATHAN. 
 No matter ! To the point ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 I have been told that in this little book,
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 175 
 
 At the beginning and the end, stand written 
 The names of both their families, inscribed 
 With his own hand. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The very thing we want ! 
 
 Run, fetch me quick this book ! Its weight in gold 
 I ll give you, and a thousand thanks besides. 
 Run! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Willingly ; but tis in Arabic 
 The Knight has written. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 No matter ; let me have it ! 
 God ! if I might the maiden still retain, 
 And let her purchase for me such a son ! 
 Scarce possible ! Well, come what will of it ! 
 But who betrayed it to the Patriarch ? 
 I ll not forget to ask. If it were Daja ! 
 
 SCENE VIII. 
 DAJA and NATHAN. 
 
 DAJA (hurried and embarrassed}. 
 
 Think, Nathan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Well?
 
 176 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 How terrified she was, 
 Poor child ! There came just now a message from 
 
 NATHAN. 
 The Patriarch ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 From the Sultan s sister, Sittah. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 And not the Patriarch ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Sittah ! Hear you not ? 
 The princess Sittah sends for her. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Whom ? Recha ? 
 
 The princess send for her ? If it be Sittah, 
 And not the Patriarch, sends 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Why think of him ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Have you heard naught from him of late ? Quite 
 
 sure? 
 And naught betrayed to him ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 I, him?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 177 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 But say, 
 Where stand the messengers ? 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 Before the house. 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Twere best confer with them in person. Come ! 
 If but the Patriarch have no hand in this ! [Goes. 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 And I I tremble with another fear. 
 The fancied only daughter of a Jew 
 So rich as he, might tempt a Mussulman. 
 Tis over with the Templar he is lost, 
 If I accomplish not the second step, 
 And tell the girl her story, Courage courage ! 
 I ll seize the earliest moment we re alone 
 The coming one, if I go with her there. 
 A little hint of it upon the way 
 Can do no harm. On ! Now or never ! Courage ! 
 
 [Follows him.
 
 iy8 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A room in Saladin s palace, where the money-bags art 
 
 still lying. 
 SALADIN ; soon after, -various MAMELUKES. 
 
 SALADIN (as he enters). 
 
 The gold still there ! and none can find the dervise ! 
 He s stumbled on some chess-board and forgot 
 Himself : why not me also ! Patience ! Well ? 
 
 A MAMELUKE. 
 
 The longed-for tidings, Sultan ! Sultan, joy ! 
 The caravan approaches from Kahira 
 With seven years tribute from the fruitful Nile. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Good, Ibrahim ; you re a welcome messenger. 
 At last, at last !^-My thanks for your good news ! 
 
 MAMELUKE (wailing). 
 (Out with them, then !) 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Why wait you ? You may go.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 179 
 
 MAMELUKE. 
 Naught else then for the welcome messenger ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 What would you else ? 
 
 MAMELUKE. 
 
 No present for the bearer ? 
 I m then the first whom Saladin has learned 
 To pay with words. What honor ! I the first 
 He haggles with ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Take one of yonder bags. 
 
 MAMELUKE. 
 Not now ; not though you offered me the whole. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Defiant ! Come, these two are yours. In earnest? 
 He goes ? is more magnanimous than I ? 
 For to refuse must harder be for him 
 Than tis for me to give. Here, Ibrahim ! 
 What has come o er me that so near my end 
 Would make me seem another than myself? 
 Will Saladin not die as Saladin? 
 Then Saladin he must not live. 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 News, Sultan !
 
 180 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 If you are come to tell me 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 That the transport 
 From Egypt has arrived. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I ve heard already. 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 Then I am come too late. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Wherefore too late ? 
 Bear off a sack or two for your good-will. 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 Say three ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 If you can count as much. Go, take them ! 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 There s still a third to come if come he can. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 How so ? 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 I know not but his neck is broken. 
 Soon as we knew the caravan was come, 
 Each started off full speed. The foremost fell.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. l8l 
 
 I got the start and kept it to the city, 
 
 Where Ibrahim had more knowledge of the streets. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 But he who fell, my friend ! The man who fell ! 
 Ride back to meet him ! 
 
 SECOND MAMELUKE. 
 
 That indeed will I ! 
 If he s alive, the half of that is his. [Goes. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Another noble fellow ! Who besides 
 Can boast such Mamelukes ? May I not think 
 Twas my example helped to fashion them ? 
 Away then with the thought that at the last 
 They should grow used to any other ! 
 
 THIRD MAMELUKE. 
 
 Sultan, 
 SALADIN. 
 Was t you who fell ? 
 
 THIRD MAMELUKE. 
 
 No. I but come to announce 
 That Emir Mansor, leader of the transport, 
 Is now dismounting. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Bring him hither quick ! 
 Ah, here he is !
 
 1 82 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 EMIR MANSOR and SALADIN. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 You re welcome, Emir, welcome ! 
 How has all gone with you ? O Mansor, Mansor, 
 You kept us waiting long. 
 
 MANSOR. 
 
 This letter tells 
 
 What tumult in Thebais your Abulkassem 
 Was forced to quell, ere it was safe to start. 
 I made all possible dispatch in coining. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I will believe you. Take at once, good Mansor 
 And gladly will you not ? another escort ; 
 For you must on at once to Lebanon, 
 With more than half this treasure to my father. 
 
 MANSOR. 
 Right willingly ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Make not your guard too weak. 
 Things are no longer safe on Lebanon. 
 Have you not heard ? the Templars are astir. 
 Be on your guard ! But come, where halts the 
 
 transport ? 
 I d see and urge it forward. Then to Sittah !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 1 83 
 
 SCENE III. 
 The palms before Nathan s house. 
 
 THE TEMPLAR (walking to and fro], 
 
 I will not enter. He ll appear at last. 
 
 How quick, how eager to observe me once ! 
 
 The time may come when e en my frequent presence 
 
 Before his house he will forbid. Hm hm ! 
 
 But I am most unreasonable too. 
 
 Why so enraged against him ? As he said, 
 
 He yet has naught refused ; and Saladin 
 
 Has promised to persuade him. Does the Christian 
 
 Hold me in closer bonds than him the Jew ? 
 
 Who knows himself? Why should I else begrudge 
 
 This little theft, that with abundant pains 
 
 He wrested from the Christians ? Little theft ? 
 
 A creature such as she ! A creature ! whose ? 
 
 Not of the slave who set the block adrift 
 
 On life s waste shore, and there deserted it. 
 
 Nay, rather of the artist who conceived 
 
 In the rejected block the godlike form, 
 
 And brought it into life. Recha s true father 
 
 Must be, despite the Christian who begot her, 
 
 Must be in all eternity the Jew. 
 
 If I conceive her as a Christian maiden, 
 
 Deprived of all that only such a Jew
 
 1 84 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Could give say, heart what were her charm for 
 
 you ? 
 
 But little, nothing ! e en her smile were naught 
 But gentle soft contraction of the muscles ; 
 And that which prompts it would be undeserving 
 Of all the grace it wears upon her lips. 
 No, no not e en her smile ! As fair or fairer 
 I ve seen bestowed upon conceit and folly, 
 On mocking jests, and flatterers and gallants. 
 Did such enchant me or inspire the wish 
 To flutter out my life within their beams? 
 I was unconscious of it ; yet am angry 
 With him by whom alone this higher charm 
 Was given. Deserved I then the irony 
 Of Saladin at parting ? Shame enough 
 That Saladin should think it ! Oh, how small, 
 How despicable must I seem to him ! 
 All for a girl ! Curd ! Curd ! Allow it not ! 
 Assert your manhood ! Twas but Daja s gossip ; 
 It may be nothing she could prove. But see ! 
 He comes at last, engrossed in talk. With whom ? 
 My friend the Brother ! Then he knows it all ; 
 Has been discovered to the Patriarch ! 
 What has my madness done ? Oh that one spark 
 Of passion should consume our reason thus ! 
 Decide at once what next ! I ll stand aside, 
 And watch if they may not part company.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 185 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 NATHAN and the LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Thanks once again, good Brother ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Mine to you. 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Your thanks to me ? for what ? My obstinacy 
 In pressing on you what you do not want ? 
 If yours had yielded good ; but you were firm 
 You would not be a richer man than I. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Besides, the book s not mine ; it is the daughter s 
 The daughter s sole paternal heritage. 
 She has yourself indeed. God grant that ne er 
 You may repent your goodness to her ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Never ; 
 That can I never ! Fear not ! 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Nay, but then 
 
 The Patriarchs and the Templars 
 16*
 
 1 86 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Can inflict 
 
 No evil that shall make me aught regret. 
 Enough of that ! But are you well assured 
 A Templar set your Patriarch on the scent ? 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Another scarce seems possible. A Templar 
 Had hardly left him when I heard the story. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 There is but one in all Jerusalem, 
 And him I know : he is a friend ; a man, 
 Young, noble, frank. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Right ; tis the very same. 
 A difference lies between what one must seem 
 Before the world, and what one is. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Too true. 
 
 Whoe er he be, I dare his worst or best ! 
 Your book, good brother, bids me all defy. 
 I go with it straightway to Saladin. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 Good luck to you ! Here 1 will I leave you then. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Without a sight of her ? Come soon again, 
 And often. If the Patriarch but to-day 
 

 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 187 
 
 Might not be told ! Yet wherefore ? Nay ; this day 
 Disclose whate er you will. 
 
 LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 Not I. Farewell ! [Goes. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Forget us not, good Brother ! Gracious God ! 
 Why can I not fall down upon my knees 
 Beneath this open heaven ! How has this knot, 
 So long my secret terror, come unloosed 
 As of itself! How light my heart has grown 
 To think there s nothing further in the world 
 I need to hide ; that I can walk erect 
 Before my fellow-men as in Thy sight, 
 O Thou, who needest not to judge of man 
 According to his deeds so seldom his ! 
 
 SCENE V. 
 NATHAN and the TEMPLAR. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Wait ; take me with you, Nathan ; wait ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Who calls? 
 
 You, Knight ? Where were you that I met you not 
 Before the Sultan ?
 
 1 88 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 We mistook each other. 
 Take it not ill ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Not I ! but Saladin 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 You just had left him when 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You spoke with him ? 
 Then all is well. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 But he would speak with both. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 So much the better. Come ! I m on my way. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 May I inquire who quitted you but now ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 You do not know him then ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 If it were not 
 
 That honest Brother who is oft employed 
 To start the Patriarch s game. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 May be the same ; 
 He s with the Patriarch.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 189 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Not a bad device 
 To make simplicity the villain s scout. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 It must be dull simplicity not honest. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 No Patriarch would acknowledge any honest. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I d vouch for this. The man would ne er assist 
 His Patriarch in aught evil. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 So at least 
 He d have us think. But said he naught of me? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 He named you not knows not your name, perhaps. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 No ; hardly. 
 
 NATHAN, 
 Of a Templar said he something 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 What? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 That which clearly proved he meant not you.
 
 IQO NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Who knows ? Let s hear. 
 
 Before the Patriarch- 
 
 N AT HAN. 
 That one of you accused me 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 One accused you ? No ; 
 
 There, with his leave, he lied. Believe me, Nathan ! 
 I m not a man who would disown his deeds. 
 What I have done, I ve done. Nor am I one 
 Who would defend his every deed as right. 
 Why be ashamed of a mistake ? Resolved 
 Am I to remedy it ; and convinced, 
 Man may redeem his errors. Hear me, Nathan ! 
 I am the Brother s Templar who, he says, 
 Accused you to the Patriarch. Well you know 
 The provocation which had made my blood 
 Rush boiling through my veins. Fool ! I had come 
 With all my heart and soul to throw myself 
 Into your arms. How coldly you received me ; 
 With what indifference an indifference worse 
 Than coldness ; how intent you were politely 
 To rid yourself of me ; how you contrived 
 Ingenious questions in the place of answers ; 
 These things I must not dare to think of yet, 
 If I would keep my temper. Hear me, Nathan ! 
 In this excitement, Daja stole upon me,
 
 NAT a Ay THE WISE. 1 91 
 
 And flung her secret in my face. The key 
 It seemed to all your contradictions. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 How? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Nay, hear me out ! I fancied you unwilling 
 To give again into a Christian hand 
 What from the Christians you had stolen, and thought 
 By furnishing the arms against your life, 
 To silence you for good. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 For good you thought ! 
 I see no good about it. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Hear me, Nathan ! 
 
 I grant I did not well. You are not guilty. 
 That foolish Daja knows not what she says. 
 She likes you not ; hoped thus to injure you, 
 May be may be ! I am a simpleton 
 Forever in extremes ; now much too hot, 
 And now as much too cold. That grant I too ! 
 Forgive me, Nathan ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 If you take me so 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 But one word more. I sought the Patriarch,
 
 192 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 But named you not. That, as I said, was false. 
 I only set before him such a case 
 To learn his judgment. That I might have spared. 
 Knew I him not already for a knave ? 
 Why not have called you to account myself? 
 Wherefore, poor girl, expose her to the risk 
 Of losing such a father ? What befell ? 
 The Patriarch s baseness, faithful to itself, 
 Restored me to my senses. Hear me, Nathan 
 Hear to the end ! Suppose he knew your name 
 What then ? He has no right to take the girl 
 If she belong to any but yourself. 
 From your home only can he have the right 
 To drag her to the cloister. Therefore give 
 Give her to me, and let him come. Aha ! 
 Let him beware how he shall take my wife ! 
 Give her me quick ! be she your child or not ! 
 A Christian, Jewess, nothing naught care I ! 
 I ll put no questions to you neither now 
 Nor ever in my life. Be as it may ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Deem you it necessary for me then 
 To hide the truth ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Be as it may ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I ne er 
 To you or any who had claim to know
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 193 
 
 Denied she was a Christian, and to me 
 But an adopted daughter. Why, you say, 
 Conceal it from herself? To her alone 
 Need I excuse myself. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Not e en to her ! 
 
 Let her ne er look on you with other eyes. 
 Oh, spare her the disclosure ! You alone 
 Have still disposal of her. Give her me ! 
 I pray you, Nathan, give her me ! I only 
 Again can save her to you, and I will. 
 
 NAT-HAN. 
 Could could ! No longer possible too late ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 How so too late ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Thanks to the Patriarch 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Thanks to the Patriarch ! Wherefore thanks to 
 
 him ? 
 Has he desired to earn our thanks ? For what ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That we have learned her family ; have learned 
 Into whose hands she may be given up. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 The thanks I leave to those he has obliged. 
 
 17
 
 1 94 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 From theirs must you receive her now, not mine. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Poor Recha, how must all this fall on you ! 
 What were a happiness to other orphans 
 Is your misfortune. Nathan ! Where are they, 
 These relatives ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Where are they? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Who are they? 
 NATHAN. 
 A brother first ; from him she must be sought. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 A brother ! And this brother, what is he ? 
 Priest soldier? Let me hear what hope I have. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Neither or both. I ve not yet learned him quite. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 What more ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 An honest man ; to whom our Recha 
 May well be trusted. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Yet a Christian ! Nathan,
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 1 95 
 
 How can I understand you ? Be not angry ! 
 Must she not play the Christian with the Christians, 
 And take at last the character she plays ? 
 Will not the grain you sowed so pure, be choked 
 By weeds at last ? And you so careless of it ! 
 This notwithstanding can you say you say 
 She may be safely trusted with her brother? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I think it hope it. Should she want for aught 
 With him, has she not still yourself and me ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Can any thing be wanting her with him ? 
 Will not dear brother give his little sister 
 Enough of food and clothing, finery 
 And dainties ? What can little sister want 
 Besides ? A husband, to be sure ! Well, well ; 
 That too, in time, dear brother will provide. 
 They re always to be had ; and all the better 
 The more he is a Christian. Nathan, Nathan 1 
 Why fashion such an angel to be marred 
 By other men ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Fear not ; she will remain 
 Abundantly deserving of our love. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Nay, say not that ; of my love say it not ! 
 My love will brook no change in her not one ;
 
 196 NATHAN THE WISE, 
 
 No veriest trifle e en a name. But hold ! 
 Has a suspicion reached her of her fate ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Perhaps ; yet hardly could I tell from whom. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 It matters not ; I must, I will be first 
 To let her know the fate that threatens her. 
 My purpose ne er to see, ne er speak with her 
 Till I might call her mine, is changed. I haste 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Stay ; whither would you go ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 To her ; to her, 
 
 To learn if in her maiden soul there lie 
 Enough of manhood for the one resolve 
 Which only would be worthy of her. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What ? 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 To let her heart no longer dwell on you 
 Or on her brother 
 
 NATHAN. 
 But? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 To follow me ; 
 Though twere to make herself a Moslem s wife.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 197 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Stay ; you would find her not. She is with Sittah, 
 The Sultan s sister. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 When was that and why ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 If you would see the brother with them come ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Whose brother ? Sittah s Recha s ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Both, perhaps. 
 But come with me I pray you, come with me ! 
 
 \JLeads him away. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 Sittah s harem. SITTAH and RECHA in conversation. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What pleasure shall I take in you, sweet child ! 
 But be not so reserved, so shy, so troubled ; 
 Be gay ; more talkative ; more friendly with me. 
 
 RECHA. 
 Princess 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 No, no ; not Princess : call me Sittah 
 Your friend your sister mother, if you will ! 
 17*
 
 198 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 That might I almost be. So young, so wise, 
 
 So good ; with so much knowledge ! Ah, how much 
 
 You must have read ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 I must have read ! Ah, Sittah, 
 You re laughing at your foolish little sister. 
 I scarce know how to read. v 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What? story-teller! 
 You scarce know how ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 My father s hand a little. 
 I thought you spoke of books. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Yes, yes of books. 
 RECHA. 
 No ; I should find it hard to read in books. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Are you in earnest ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 I am quite in earnest. 
 
 My father cares not for that cold book-learning 
 That s printed on the brain by lifeless signs. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 What do you tell me ! Yet he s partly right. 
 Then all you know
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 199 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Is only from his lips. 
 
 Scarce anything, but I could tell you how, 
 And where, and why, my father taught it me. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Thus all is better woven into one : 
 The whole soul learns at once. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 And Sittah too 
 Has surely little read, or nothing. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Why? 
 
 I would not boast the contrary ; but why ? 
 Your reason ; tell me candidly your reason ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 She is so true and honest ; so unspoiled ; 
 Acts out herself so naturally ; 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Well? 
 
 REHA. 
 
 My father says books rarely leave us so. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 How wise a man he is ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 Yes ; is he not ?
 
 2OO NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 How near he hits the mark ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Ah, does he not ? 
 And yet this father 
 
 SITTAH. 
 What disturbs you, love ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 This father 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Heavens ! You weep ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 This father Ah, 
 I must speak out ; my heart must have relief ! 
 
 [Throws herself, overpowered by her /ears, at 
 Sitlah s feet. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Recha ! What ails you, child ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 This father must 
 Ah, must I lose ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Must lose your father ! Why ? 
 Compose yourself! Impossible ! Stand up ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 It shall not be in vain that you have offered 
 To be my friend, my sister I
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 2OI 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 I am both. 
 But rise ; else must I call for help. 
 
 RECHA (controls herself , and rises). 
 Forgive ; 
 
 Your pardon ! In my grief I had forgot 
 To whom I spoke. No moaning, no despair 
 Avails with Sittah. Naught has power with her 
 But cold, calm reason. Whosesoever cause 
 That pleads before her, conquers. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Well ? 
 RECHA. 
 
 My friend, 
 
 My sister, suffer not oh, suffer not 
 Another father to be forced upon me ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Another father forced upon you, love ? 
 Who has the power, the wish to do it ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Who? 
 
 My good, bad Daja has the wish, and claims 
 The power. Know you her not, this good, bad Daja ? 
 God pardon her for it reward her for it ! 
 Such good as she has done me and such harm ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Done harm to you ! Small good is in her then.
 
 202 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 RECHA. 
 Nay, much how much ! 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Who is she ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 She s a Christian, 
 
 Who tended me in childhood with such care ; 
 You cannot think ! She scarcely let me miss 
 My mother. God reward her ! But besides, 
 She so distressed and tortured me ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 With what 7 
 And wherefore ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Ah, poor woman ! As I said, 
 She is a Christian, and from very love 
 Must torture me. She is of those fanatics 
 Who think they know the universal, true, 
 And only road to God. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 I understand. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 And feel a charge upon them to conduct 
 The feet of every wanderer thitherward. 
 They scarce can otherwise. If it be true
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 203 
 
 This is the only road that leads aright, 
 
 Can they resign themselves to see their friends 
 
 Advancing on another which descends 
 
 To death, eternal death ? They needs must love 
 
 And hate one at the selfsame time. Not that 
 
 Has forced from me such loud complaints 
 
 Against her. Gladly would I still have borne 
 
 Her sighs and prayers, her threats and warnings) 
 
 gladly ! 
 
 For good and useful were the thoughts they roused. 
 Besides, how not be flattered too at heart 
 At being held so precious and so dear 
 By any, that the thought of losing us 
 For all eternity cannot be borne ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Tis true. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 But this this is too much ! Gainst this 
 I ve no defence ; not patience, not reflection, 
 Not anything ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 What ? Whom ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 What she but now 
 Pretended to reveal. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Reveal but now ?
 
 204 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 But now. Upon our way to you we neared 
 A ruined Christian temple. Suddenly 
 She stopped ; appeared to struggle with herself; 
 Directed now to heaven and now on me 
 Her streaming eyes. "Come," finally she said, 
 "We ll take the shortest path through yonder 
 
 temple. 
 
 She went ; I followed, gazing with affright 
 Upon the tottering ruins. Once again 
 She stopped ; and I beheld myself with her 
 Before the steps of a decaying altar. 
 Ah, how I felt, when here, with burning tears 
 And wringing of her hands, she threw herself 
 Upon the ground before me ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Darling child ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 And by the Deity who there had heard 
 So many prayers, and worked so many wonders, 
 Conjured me yes, with looks of true compassion 
 Conjured me to have pity on myself ! 
 At least to pardon her, for she must tell 
 Her Church s claim upon me. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Ah, poor girl ; 
 "Hs as I thought
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 205 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 I had been born, she said, 
 Of Christian parents ; I had been baptized ; 
 I was not Nathan s child he not my father ! 
 God ! God ! He not my father ! Sittah ! Sittah ! 
 Here at your feet again behold me 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Recha ! 
 I pray you, rise ! My brother comes ! Stand up ! 
 
 SCENE VII. 
 SALADIN and the preceding. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 What trouble, Sittah ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 She s beside herself! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Who is it ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 You remember 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Nathan s daughter ! 
 What ails her ? 
 
 18
 
 2O6 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Child, control yourself! The Sultan 
 
 RECHA (her head bowed to the ground, drags herself 
 
 upon her knees to Saladirisfeef). 
 I rise not ; look not on the Sultan s face ; 
 Behold not on his brow and in his eyes 
 The bright reflection of eternal love 
 And justice, till 
 
 SlTTAH. 
 
 Rise ; rise ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 He promise me 
 
 SALADIN. 
 I promise ; be it what it may ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 No more 
 
 Nor less than this to leave to me my father, 
 And me to him. I know not who besides 
 Would be my father ; who can want to be. 
 I will not know. But is it only blood 
 That makes the father only blood ? 
 
 SALADIN (raising her). 
 
 I see. 
 
 Who was so heartless as to name the thing 
 To you ? Is it already settled proved ?
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 2OJ 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 It must be ; Daja says twas from my nurse 
 She learned it. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 From your nurse ? 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 Who felt constrained 
 Upon her death-bed to confess it to her. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Upon her death-bed ? Possibly she wandered. 
 But were it true you re right ! The blood alone 
 Makes not the father scarce a wild beast s father. 
 At most, it but confers the earliest right 
 To earn the name. Fear not ; hark to my counsel ! 
 When these two fathers come to quarrel for you, 
 Dismiss them both and take the third ; take me 
 To be your father ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Yes, dear Recha, yes ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I d make a right good father. Hold ; still better ! 
 What need of fathers ? What if they should die ? 
 But seek betimes for one who would brave all 
 To live for you. Has none such yet been found ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 Make her not blush !
 
 208 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 The very thing I wished ! 
 If blushes make the ugly fair, they surely 
 Will make the fair still fairer. I have bid 
 Your father, Nathan, hither, and another 
 Another with him. Guess you not his name ? 
 Hither with your permission, Sittah. 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Brother ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Call up a rosy blush for him, dear child. 
 
 RECHA. 
 A blush for whom ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Ah, little hypocrite ! 
 
 Grow pale then, if you choose ; just as you will 
 And can. 
 
 \_A female slave enters and addresses Siliah. 
 Are they arrived already ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Good ; 
 You may admit them. It is they, dear brother !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 209 
 
 LAST SCENE. 
 NATHAN and the TEMPLAR, with the preceding. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Welcome, my dear, good friends ! You, Nathan, you 
 Must I address the first. Send you and fetch 
 Your money back whene er you want it. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Sultan 
 SALADIN. 
 Tis now my turn to be of service ; 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Sultan 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 The caravan is come. I m rich again 
 As I ve not been for many a day. Come, come ; 
 Say what you need to start some enterprise 
 Of magnitude. You tradesmen, like ourselves, 
 Can scarce have too much money. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Why begin 
 
 With such a trifle ? There are weeping eyes 
 That I am more concerned with drying. Recha ! 
 
 [Approaches her. 
 
 You have been weeping ; what distresses you ? 
 Are you not still my daughter ? 
 1 8*
 
 2IO NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 RECHA. 
 
 O my father ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 We understand each other. Tis enough ! 
 Be cheerful ; be collected. Let your heart 
 Be still your own : let but no other loss 
 Have threatened that your father is not lost ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 No other ; none. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 None ! Then I was deceived. 
 What we fear not to lose, we never thought 
 Nor wished to own. So be it. That changes all. 
 We came here, Saladin, at your command. 
 But I misled you ; take no further trouble. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Hasty again, young man ! Must everything 
 Concern yourself have reference but to you ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 But Sultan hear you, see you not yourself? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 I do indeed ; pity you made not sure 
 Of your position. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Tis no longer doubtful.
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 211 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Who thus presumes upon a benefit, 
 Revokes it. What you saved is not your own 
 Because you saved it. Else as good a hero 
 Were any thief whose greed will brave the fire. 
 
 [Approaches Recha to lead her to the Templar, 
 Come, darling, come ; be not too strict with him. 
 Were he aught else, were he less hot and proud, 
 He might not have preserved you. Let the one 
 Excuse the other. Come ; put him to shame ; 
 Do that which should be his confess your love 
 Give him your hand ; and if he should disdain you 
 Should he forget how infinitely more 
 You did for him by this than he for you 
 What did he then for you ? get singed a little ! 
 But what was that ? then has he naught of Assad, 
 Naught of my brother ; wears his likeness only, 
 And not his heart. Come, love ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 Yes ; go, love, go 1 
 Your gratitude would deem that little nothing. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Hold, Saladin ! hold, Sittah ! 
 
 SALADI>. 
 
 What you also ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 There is another has a right to speak.
 
 212 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Who doubts it ? Such a foster-father, Nathan, 
 Unquestionably has a voice the first, 
 If you desire. You see I know the whole. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Not quite the whole. I speak not of myself. 
 There is another, quite another, Sultan, 
 Whom I entreat to hear me ere he speak. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Who who ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Her brother. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Recha s brother ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 RECHA. 
 My brother ! Have I then a brother ? 
 
 TEMPLAR (rousing himself from his brooding}. 
 
 Where ? 
 
 Where is this brother ? Not yet here ? Twas here 
 I was to meet him. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Patience !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 213 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 He s imposed 
 A father on her why not find a brother ? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That is too much. Shame, Christian ! A suspicion 
 So base would ne er have come from Assad s lips. 
 Say on ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Forgive him ! I forgive him gladly. 
 Should we do better, circumstanced like him, 
 And young ? 
 
 {Approaching the Templar kindly. 
 Quite natural that want of trust 
 Should breed suspicion, Knight. Had you confessed 
 Your rightful name at once 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 How? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You re no Stauffen. 
 
 TEMPLAF. 
 Who am I then ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Your name s not Curd von Stauffen. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 What then ?
 
 214 NATHAN THE WISS. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Tis Leu von Filneck. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 How? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 You start ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 With reason. Who asserts it ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 I ; and more 
 
 Have I to tell you. Yet I charge you not 
 With falsehood. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 No? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That name may be your own 
 With equal right. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Ay, truly ! (It is God 
 Who bids him speak. ) 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Your mother was a Stauffen. 
 Her brother, to whose charge in Germany 
 You were committed when the ungenial air 
 Had forced your parents to the East again,
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 215 
 
 Was Curd von Stauffen, who adopted you 
 
 Perhaps in place of children of his own. 
 
 How long since you came hither ? Lives he still ? 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 What shall I answer ? All is as you say ; 
 But he himself is dead. I came not hither 
 Until the last detachment of our Order 
 But but how bears all this on Recha s brother? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Your father 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 How ? Him too you knew him too ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 He was my friend. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Your friend ! How possible ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 The name of Wolf von Filneck did he bear; 
 But was no German 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 Know you also that ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Was wedded to a German, and had followed 
 Your mother into Germany awhile.
 
 2l6 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 No more, I pray ! But Recha s brother, Nathan 
 Her brother ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Is yourself. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I I her brother ! 
 
 RECHA. 
 Ah, he my brother ! 
 
 SALADIN. 
 They are brother and sister ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 They brother and sister ! 
 
 RECHA {advancing to him). 
 
 Ah, my brother ! 
 
 TEMPLAR (drawing back}. 
 
 Brother ! 
 
 RECHA (checking herself, and turning to Nathan}. 
 It cannot cannot be ! There s no response 
 Within his heart. We are impostors ! God ! 
 
 SALADIN (to the Templar*}. 
 
 Impostors ! Do you think it can you think it ? 
 Yourself the impostor ! All in you is false ; 
 Face, voice, and bearing nothing yours. Refuse 
 To acknowledge such a sister ? Go begone !
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 217 
 
 TEMPLAR (approaching him humbly). 
 Mistake not you too, Sultan, my surprise. 
 Ne er saw you Assad at a time like this. 
 Oh, be not thus unjust to him and me ! 
 
 [Hurrying to Nathan. 
 You give me, .Nathan, and you take away 
 With full hands both. But no ; you give me more, 
 More infinitely than you take away. 
 
 \Embracing Recha. 
 My sister, O my sister ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Henceforth Blanda 
 Von Filneck. 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 Blanda Blanda no more Recha 
 Your Recha then no more ? God ! You reject 
 
 her 
 
 You give her back her Christian name reject her 
 Because of me ! Oh, wherefore call on her 
 To make atonement, Nathan ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 What atonement ? 
 
 My children, O my children ! For will he, 
 The brother of my daughter, not become 
 Another child to me ? 
 
 [ While Nathan gives himself up to their caresses, 
 Saladin, surprised and uneasy, turns to Sittah. 
 9
 
 2l8 NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 What say you, Sittah ? 
 
 SITTAH. 
 I m deeply moved. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And I I feel my heart 
 Recoil before a feeling deeper still. 
 Prepare yourself as best you may ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 
 For what ? 
 
 SALADIN (to Nathan). 
 A word with you a word ! 
 
 \As Nalhan joins the Sultan, Sittah approaches 
 the brother and sister to express her sympathy ; 
 Nathan and Saladin speak in whispers. 
 
 Hark to me, Nathan ; 
 Did you not say 
 
 NATHAN. 
 What? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 That from Germany 
 
 Their father came not was no German born ? 
 What was he then whence came he ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That he ne er
 
 NATHAN THE WISE. 21<) 
 
 Confided to me. Naught of it I learned 
 From his own lips. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 And was he then no Frank 
 No native of the West ? 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 That he confessed. 
 He spoke most readily in Persian. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 
 Persian ! 
 What need I more ? It is it was himself ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 Who? 
 
 SALADIN. 
 Twas my brother, surely twas my Assad ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 Since you yourself have guessed it, read in this 
 Its confirmation. \_Handing him the breviary. 
 
 SALADIN (opening it eagerly). 
 Ah, his hand that too 
 I recognize again ! 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 They know of naught. 
 It rests with you alone to say how much 
 They e er shall know.
 
 22O NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 SALADIN (turning over the leaves). 
 
 And shall I not acknowledge 
 
 My brother s children my own blood my chil 
 dren 
 Not own them ? Shall I give them up to you ? 
 
 (Aloud.} 
 
 Tis they tis they, dear Sittah it is they ! 
 My brother s and your brother s children both ! 
 
 \He hastens to embrace them. 
 
 SITTAH (following]. 
 What do I hear ? Ah, should it not be so ? 
 
 SALADIN (to the Templar). 
 You must must love me now, hot-headed boy ! 
 
 (ToRecha.) 
 
 Now am I really what I asked to be 
 Like it or not ! 
 
 SITTAH. 
 I too I too ! 
 
 SALADIN (again to the Templar]. 
 
 My son 
 My Assad Assad s son ! 
 
 TEMPLAR. 
 
 I of your blood ! 
 Then were those dreams that clustered round my 
 
 childhood 
 Not merely empty dreams. {Falls al the Sultan s feel.
 
 If ATE AN THE WISE. 221 
 
 SALADIN (raising him). 
 
 Behold the knave ! 
 
 He something knew of this, and yet could wish 
 To make me be his murderer. Ah, the knave ! 
 
 {They embrace. 
 
 (The curtain falls. ) 
 19*
 
 ESSAY ON 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE, 
 
 BY KUNO FISCHER. 
 
 [Condensed. } 
 
 NATHAN THE WISE is universally acknowledged to 
 be among the most important poems in German 
 literature, yet hardly any other great poem has 
 as many enemies. Some critics think lightly 
 of it as a work of art a drama ; others, by far the 
 greater number, oppose it on account of the re 
 ligious tone which they think underlies it. Both 
 opinions have their leaders, and the leaders their 
 chorus, which echoes the sentence and gives it cir 
 culation. Thus it has come to pass that this poem 
 is besieged by an army of prejudices, which most 
 persons accept before they are in condition to ex 
 amine the subject for themselves. The wisest course, 
 under such circumstances, is to let the judgment of 
 others affect us as little as possible, and to give our 
 selves up unreservedly to the influence of the work 
 itself. Let us then proceed to consider, not so much 
 the judgments passed upon Nathan, as the poem it 
 self.
 
 224 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 GENESIS OF THE POEM. 
 
 About the year 1770, there simultaneously ap 
 peared in Germany an unusual number of great 
 works. Besides Lessing s Emilia Galolli, there ap 
 peared Goethe s first productions, Werther and Gotz. 
 Lessing was himself in the prime of his manhood, 
 at the height of his art, from which he never de 
 clined, but in the fulness of time was to be snatched 
 away. After the Emilia Galotli he appears to have 
 abandoned the field of poetry. His office in Wol- 
 fenbiittel, the journey to Italy, the publication of the 
 Wolfenbullel Fragments, and the controversies con 
 nected with it, kept his interests and powers busy in 
 other directions. Whoever is called to be a reformer 
 must accept the duties of a soldier. These duties 
 Lessing fulfilled with such great ability and success 
 that Goethe and Schiller could speak of him in one 
 of their Xenien as the Achilles of German literature. 
 
 Lessing s poetical works stand in very close con 
 nection with his critical. The Lileralurbriefe are 
 followed by Minna von Barnhelm, the Dramaturgic 
 by Emilia Galotti, and the Antigolze by Nathan the 
 Wise. The connection in all three cases is evident. 
 But in the last we should greatly err in attributing 
 the origin of the Nathan entirely to the Anligotze, 
 as if it were only a continuation of that controversy. 
 The idea of our poem dates further back. Between 
 the years 1774 and 1778 Lessing had published 
 some fragments of a work left by the Hamburg Pro 
 fessor, Hermann Samuel Reimarus, as if they had 
 been found among the manuscript treasures of the 
 Wolfenbiittel library. He purposely, and by promise,
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 22$ 
 
 concealed the name of the author. The published 
 extracts were therefore called the Wolfenbiittel Frag 
 ments, and the unknown author, the Wolfenbtlttel 
 Fragmentist. The work of Reimarus was, as it 
 professed to be, a defence of the religion of reason 
 by a refutation of that of revelation. It was an at 
 tack upon the biblical religion of both Testaments, 
 founded on a criticism of the Canon. The Frag 
 ments, especially the last, upon the history and per 
 son of Jesus, kindled the controversy which espe 
 cially Melchior Gotze, a Lutheran preacher in 
 Hamburg, began and carried on with most violent 
 zeal. He aimed less at refuting the fragments 
 (which Lessing would have liked, as he was by no 
 means in sympathy with their spirit), than at con 
 victing of heresy, and dooming to damnation both 
 author and editor. In the eyes of the Ham 
 burg pastor the Fragments were destructive of re 
 ligion, and therefore dangerous to the State, because 
 subversive of belief in the Bible. He accused the 
 editor of having made himself a participator in the 
 crime, asserting that his answers to the unknown 
 author were only for appearance sake, and made 
 the case worse rather than better. 
 
 Lessing s reply, at once a defence and a refutation, 
 are his famous letters against Gotze, the Anligolze. 
 They are specimens of controversial writing, unique 
 in the domain of theological literature, from the 
 bearing and importance of the question, the extent 
 of ground covered, and the personal ability unsur 
 passed by any man of his time which Lessing 
 brought to bear. His object was not only to defend 
 the Protestants right to freedom of inquiry against 
 the Lutheran zeal for belief in the letter, but also to 
 maintain the independence of every religion, espe-
 
 226 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 cially the Christian, of all adherence to the letter. 
 His argument was, that as religion is older than 
 Scripture, Christianity older than the Bible, it must 
 have existed before the Canon, and cannot therefore 
 be made to depend on the letter of the Canon. The 
 object was to search for the archetype of religion in 
 the right place, in order to see its written image in 
 the right light. Hence arose a multitude of ques 
 tions about the origin of the Canon, the spirit of 
 primitive Christianity, and the essence of religion. 
 The controversy between Lessing and Gotze was cut 
 short. As early as 1778, the public authorities in 
 terfered. The Consistory of Brunswick wished the 
 thing suppressed, and the ministry deprived Lessing 
 of the privilege of printing his book, confiscated 
 the Fragments, and forbade the continuance of the 
 controversy. * 
 
 At this time of public ill-treatment, to which were 
 added heavy domestic sorrows, a fresh impulse was 
 given to the idea of Nathan, which had been begun 
 some years before. The night of the tenth of Au 
 gust, 1778, he resolved to finish the work. Early in 
 November the full prose sketch was finished, and in 
 the same month the metrical framework was begun. 
 This enlarged the piece far beyond the limits of the 
 sketch, and gave shape and life to the different char 
 acters. In March, 1779, the poem was completed 
 in its present form. Thus is shown the connection 
 between the Nathan and the Antigotze in point of 
 
 * Relmarus complete work, and his theological position, have 
 been treated in an exhaustive manner by D. Fr. Strauss, under the 
 title of Hermann Samuel Reimarus and his Defence of the Rational 
 Worshippers of God (1862) ; and the relations of Lessing to Reimarus, 
 and of the Antigotze to Nathan the Wise, are similarly treated of in 
 a discourse by the same author, entitled Lessing s Nathan the Wise 
 (1864).
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 22<J 
 
 time and matter. In the controversy with Gotze 
 the question had come up, "What is the essence of 
 Religion?" "What is the nature of the Religion 
 which precedes belief in the letter?" In Nathan, 
 Lessing meant to answer these questions by repre 
 senting to us the true and original conditions of re 
 ligion in their most living and unmistakable forms, 
 embodied in characters to which he could point and 
 say, That is what I mean. " The check to his 
 controversy with Gotze had changed the librarian 
 back into the dramatist. "I must see if they will 
 let me preach undisturbed in my own pulpit, the 
 theatre," he said. Thus polemics helped to give to 
 the world this "son of his advancing old age," as 
 Lessing himself called the Nathan ; but they did 
 not create it. And all of Lessing s friends who ex 
 pected from this connection of the poem with the 
 controversy, a polemical or satirical drama, were 
 happily disappointed. 
 
 At a time when he wrote poetry with difficulty, 
 Lessing could hardly have finished his Nathan in a 
 few months, if he had not conceived it long before. 
 Emilia Galotti was begun -fifteen years before it was 
 completed. When Lessing told his brother of his 
 determination to write the Nathan, he said it was a 
 drama which he had sketched out many years be 
 fore. Perhaps the design of it goes back to the 
 first period of his literary activity. At least we find 
 a kindred theme among the subjects occupying 
 him then. One of those Rdiungen which Lessing 
 wrote at that time, treats of an Italian philosopher 
 of the sixteenth century, Hieronymus Cardanus, 
 famed as a mathematician, who, in his de Subtililale, 
 had compared the four religions of the world the 
 Heathen, Jewish, Christian, and Moslem. His
 
 228 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 work took the form of a colloquy, in which each of 
 the speakers represented one of the four religions, 
 and defended it against the others. It was objected 
 that the author had treated Christianity slightingly, 
 and gave it the lowest place. Lessing, in his essay, 
 defended him from this charge. He claimed that 
 the opposite fault might rather be found with him 
 that he did not furnish the Jewish and Mahometan 
 religions with as strong arguments as he should. 
 He might have made out a much better case for 
 them. Had Lessing been pleading their cause, he 
 would have made the Jew and the Mahometan speak 
 very differently ; and he proceeds to sketch out a 
 little plan of defence for them. This idea reminds 
 us somewhat of our poem. The Christian, Jewish, 
 and Mahometan religions enter the colloquial lists 
 against one another. Each one is to plead its own 
 cause, and in such a way that the anti-Christian 
 religions may have justice done them. Why might 
 not the thought even then have occurred to him of 
 treating this subject dramatically ? 
 
 Yet Lessing needed for this a more personal and 
 living subject than he cduld draw from Cardanus s 
 colloquy. He found it in Boccacio s Decame 
 ron. The story is briefly this. Saladin s treasury is 
 empty. He needs large sums of money, and knows 
 not where to obtain them. In this emergency he 
 remembers that there lives in Alexandria a Jew, 
 Melchisedek -rich and usurious. He sends for 
 him, and tries by a captious question to bring him 
 into his power. The Jew must tell the Sultan which 
 of the three laws he considers the true one, the 
 Jewish, Christian, or Saracen. However he may 
 answer, there seems no escape. If he says the 
 Jewish, he insults the Sultan s faith ; if he names
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 22g 
 
 any other, he denies his own. The Jew s decision 
 is soon made. He answers with the story of the 
 three rings, in nearly the same way that it is told in 
 Nathan the Wise. 
 
 Yet there is one important difference between 
 Lessing and Boccacio. With the latter, the ring is 
 only a jewel, entitling the possessor to nothing but 
 the inheritance and the position of head of the fam 
 ily. With Lessing, on the contrary, it bears a higher 
 significance. "It had the secret power of giving 
 favor, in sight of God and man, to him who wore it 
 with a believing heart." 
 
 In Nathan, the ring has the power of winning 
 hearts, therefore of ennobling hearts, for the latter 
 is made the condition of the former. Only he who 
 sows love, reaps love. He who receives the most 
 love, because he has given the most, is undoubtedly 
 in possession of the true ring. But all three are dis 
 puting. Each considers himself the favored one, 
 and the others impostors. Each one hates the 
 others. So long as this intolerant, selfish strife 
 continues, the treasure of love is not among them ; 
 so long the true ring remains undiscovered ; so long 
 all three that are produced are counterfeit. And 
 how if the true ring should declare itself? if its 
 power should begin to work ? Then one is the 
 most beloved, and must therefore have earned love ; 
 he must have conquered the hearts of the others. 
 And if one is the best beloved, there must be love, 
 and therefore purity of heart, in the others. Each 
 one will, in proportion to his power of self-renun 
 ciation, love his neighbor, understand his views, 
 and practise forbearance. There is a toleration 
 which the world commends, and which most men 
 practise, priding themselves upon it as a virtue, 
 20
 
 230 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 though it is the easiest thing in the world. It re 
 quires us only to be indifferent to the beliefs of 
 others. When we have once thrown religion upon 
 that heap of things we characterize as trash, " it is 
 very easy not to concern ourselves about it in other 
 people, especially as the reasoning faculty is thereby 
 saved a great labor. I know not whether this so- 
 called toleration is better than its opposite. More 
 convenient it certainly is, and just as certainly it is 
 not genuine toleration ; for real toleration bears 
 with the beliefs and habits of others, not from in 
 difference, but from comprehension from knowl 
 edge of human nature from that interest which 
 Leibnitz well calls "the love which is identical with 
 wisdom." 
 
 THE PLOT. 
 
 This idea determines the purpose and subject of 
 the poem. What appears in the fable of the rings 
 as the distant goal of the ages the perfect recon 
 ciliation of the human race, after emerging, puri 
 fied, from their sectional religions the poem aims 
 to anticipate and present to us, on a reduced scale, 
 in a family circle in which worthy representatives of 
 the three hostile religions are united after a long 
 separation. A story had therefore to be invented 
 which should bring about such a union of Jew, 
 Christian, and Moslem. This story is, as Lessing 
 expresses it, "the interesting episode which he has 
 woven about the tale of the three rings. " 
 
 Moral power is measured by the obstacles met 
 and overcome. In times when the world is glutted 
 with sectional hatred, and wars are waged in the 
 name of religion, true toleration pure love of hu-
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 231 
 
 manity, founded on unselfishness will be best, be 
 cause most severely, tested ; and in just such times 
 will this be manifested in certain rare characters. 
 The Crusades, therefore, form an appropriate theatre 
 for our story. After the religious passions have un 
 dergone an unusual strain, there is an inevitable re 
 action. The most violent intolerance gives place to 
 that easy tolerance which begins to neutralize all 
 religious differences. True toleration is something 
 different from this. The fourth Crusade gives marked 
 evidence that the interest in religion was diminish 
 ing with the passions it engendered, and that a dif 
 ference of belief had in some cases no longer a 
 dividing power. A Templar goes over to Saladin ; 
 a Christian king knights a Mussulman the Sultan s 
 cousin ; and even an alliance by marriage is planned 
 between Saladin and Cceur de Lion. It is the period 
 when the Jewish and Moslem culture stands so high, 
 that their philosophers can instruct the Christian 
 theologians in regard to Aristotle, and influence 
 Christian culture in many important ways. 
 
 Especially did the Crusades represent and produce 
 a great crisis in the religious condition of the Chris 
 tian world. They worked upon the religious pas 
 sions inflaming, blunting, purifying them. Their 
 effect stands in marked contrast to their cause. The 
 Crusades sprang from a passionate yearning for a 
 faith ; after that yearning was satisfied, they necessarily 
 ended in one of those great and fruitful disenchant- 
 ments which enrich the world so much, and are 
 never bought too dearly. The Crusaders sought, 
 and resolved to win, the sepulchre of Christ ; and 
 what they found, won, and lost again, was a sepul 
 chre. They made for themselves the discovery that 
 the grave was empty, and, through their experience,
 
 232 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 the saying by the well of Samaria received a new 
 fulfilment : " God is a spirit, and they who worship 
 him, must worship him in spirit and in truth." We 
 may say that this great tragedy purified the faith 
 through the passions, and was, to use an expression 
 of Aristotle, "A true katharsis." 
 
 The source from which he took his theme led 
 Lessing back to the time and person of Saladin, who 
 was ruler of Jerusalem toward the end of the 
 twelfth century, from 1187 101193. The chrono 
 logical contradictions, which Lessing did not attempt 
 to avoid, prevent our assigning an exact year to the 
 supposed events. 
 
 On the side of art, the composition has undeniable 
 faults. What a difference, in this respect, between 
 it and the Emilia Galotti ! In Emilia Galotti the 
 thread of the drama is tightly drawn, the flow of 
 incidents is smooth and natural, and the motive of 
 every action consistently dramatic. In Nathan the 
 separate threads are loosely and artificially joined, and 
 the incidents are not always consistent with the char 
 acters, but often are mere episodes of one another. 
 There is hardly anything less characteristic for the 
 dramatic poet than the resemblance of two faces; 
 it can be made obvious by no manner of action 
 or any poetical means. The author of Laocoon 
 was perfectly aware of this. And yet he uses this 
 motive twice in Nathan, not only incidentally, but 
 as of effective and decisive influence. It is lucky 
 that the Templar resembles his father so much 
 lucky that the Sultan recognizes this resemblance at 
 the last moment lucky that Nathan himself discov 
 ers the same resemblance in time. The whole story 
 at last turns upon the features of the Templar. So 
 superficial, in the literal sense of the term, dramatic
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 233 
 
 motives must not be. This connection between the 
 Templar s countenance, the Sultan s pardon, and 
 Recha s deliverance has, no doubt, a tendency to set 
 forth a succession of natural events in the light of a 
 miraculous ordinance, and to show therein the ways 
 of a Divine Providence ; but, unhappily, the art of 
 the dramatic poet cannot claim for the chain of 
 events which it forms, the same faith as for the provi 
 dence of God. 
 
 Were Lessing s Nathan nothing but a family drama, 
 and this family history the main point of the poem, 
 the composition would be a failure in more than one 
 respect. But the story is only the means which Les- 
 sing uses to bring out his idea, and he treats it as 
 that idea requires, at the risk of mixing contradic 
 tory elements. In a drama proper, it is true, the 
 plot, or, as Aristotle calls it, the mythus, " should 
 have the first consideration. Upon this point Les- 
 sing agrees perfectly with Aristotle. He was aware 
 of this weakness in Nathan, and therefore called it, 
 not a drama, not a play, but a dramatic poem." 
 
 THE CHARACTERS. 
 
 Some say that in the characters of his poem Les- 
 sing intended to represent the three religions : that 
 in the Patriarch, Daja, the Templar, and the Lay- 
 brother he personified Christianity ; in Nathan, 
 Judaism ; in Saladin, Sittah, and Al-Hafi, Islam- 
 ism. There are even external objections to this 
 view. Where does it put Recha ? Al-Hafi too, with 
 his predilection for the Parsees, and his longing for 
 his teachers by the Ganges, is hardly a pure type of 
 Islamism. But the internal objections are still 
 stronger, as I shall presently prove in detail. It is 
 20*
 
 234 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 absurd to suppose that Lessing meant to present us 
 with types of the three religions. And this of itself 
 disposes of the accusation frequently made, similar 
 to that from which he himself had endeavored to 
 defend Cardanus, of his evidently having slighted 
 and degraded Christianity, by choosing the worst 
 character in the piece for its type, while Judaism 
 has the best. Only a superficial reading of the 
 poem would so judge it. Equally erroneous is the 
 idea that Lessing wished to defend and justify the 
 enlightened, perhaps the deistical religious views 
 against the orthodox. Nathan, in that case, would 
 be the same in a dramatic form which Reimarus s 
 work was in a critical, a defence of the rational 
 worshippers of God. The poem deals by no means 
 with definite creeds or theological doctrines. Recha 
 says, " But all the more consoling was the lesson, 
 that our faith in God depends not on our views of 
 Him." 
 
 The one spring of all the characters lies deeper. 
 It is that which Lessing wished to set before our minds 
 in the stoiy of the three rings the difference between 
 true and false religion. The true basis of religion 
 is self-renunciation, which enlightens the under 
 standing in proportion as it purifies the heart, and 
 bears its richest fruit in that love whose source is a 
 right knowledge of human nature. 
 
 But in what different proportions do we find the 
 true mixed with the untrue, the genuine with the 
 counterfeit, renunciation of self with the delusions 
 of the imagination and the passions ! From one 
 side or another a shadow falls upon the light of the 
 soul and checks its aspirations. Here we might 
 imagine a group of widely differing characters, in 
 which the true idea is working its way out of the
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN TEE WISE. 235 
 
 untrue, until it reaches the measure of its perfect de 
 velopment. 
 
 THE PATRIARCH. 
 
 In such a group of characters, the direct opposite 
 to the truly religious should not be wanting. There 
 is a form of selfishness which puts on the outward 
 show of religion, with full consciousness of the 
 mask. This is religious hypocrisy, whose proto 
 type is Tartuffe. But there is a step below even 
 Tartuffe ; when the egotist believes himself in all 
 sincerity to be a man of God, and his designs to be 
 well pleasing to God ; when religion is not the 
 mask, but the coat of mail in which egotism 
 dwells as in a fortress safe, comfortable, bullet 
 proof, even beyond the reach of exposure, which, 
 by the conscious hypocrite, is constantly dreaded 
 and guarded against. 
 
 The type of this form is the Patriarch. Heartless 
 to inhumanity, and so hardened against every feel 
 ing of generosity as to be utterly incapable of under 
 standing them, he lives under the generous pro 
 tection of Saladin ; knows that Saladin has bestowed 
 life and liberty upon the Templar, and yet suggests 
 to the Templar that he should use this very liberty 
 to become a spy upon Saladin, and his murderer. 
 He hears of an orphan Christian child brought up 
 by a Jew as if it were his own, but sees nothing in 
 this tender circumstance but the robbery of a soul, 
 and thinks that it had been better for this Jew to let 
 the child perish. 
 
 There is no faint emotion of humanity in his soul, 
 which he is trying to stifle in obedience to his 
 Church. Were he only a blind instrument, his sub-
 
 236 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 mission might be a sign of that self-renunciation 
 which has been the strength of the Church. But 
 there is nothing of this in him nothing either of 
 its humility or its pride. His own interests are up 
 permost with him. 
 
 He hates the Sultan, whose rule is naturally less 
 agreeable to him than that of an orthodox king, and 
 seeks to rid himself of it by treason and assassina 
 tion. But this does not deter him from appealing 
 to him against the Jew who has brought up a Chris 
 tian child in his own faith, or perhaps in none. 
 He is prompt to convince the Sultan of the necessity 
 of religion in the State, and he thus makes religion 
 itself serve him as a means to power. Yet he 
 remains the same ready servant of any power, no 
 matter how hateful, that may be dangerous to him. 
 No sooner does he hear that the Templar is sum 
 moned before Saladin than he changes his tone : 
 
 " Ah ! The Knight, I know, 
 Found favor with the Sultan. I but pray 
 To be remembered favorably to him. 
 
 We see that he would crawl if the Sultan stood 
 before him. 
 
 This Patriarch has not the least vocation for 
 martyrdom. He will take good care never to sacri 
 fice himself. Even his intolerance and fanaticism 
 are kept within the bounds of self-interest. His 
 religion has agreed with him well. Lessing s few 
 words describe him " A red, fat, jolly prelate." 
 
 We look for characters of the type of the Patri 
 arch not only among prelates, but wherever pub 
 lic ends, whether political or religious, whether 
 those of a whole community or of a sect, are made 
 subservient to individual interest. The type re 
 mains the same under the most various forms.
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 237 
 
 When these persons are in authority, we may be 
 sure the Jew will go to the stake. As long as the 
 power is with Saladin, whom they secretly hate, we 
 may be sure of finding them in waiting with their 
 assurances of submission "I but pray to be re 
 membered favorably to him." 
 
 DAJA. 
 
 In the Patriarch, pride of faith and egotism of 
 faith are simply pride and egotism, destitute of 
 every sort of piety and disinterestedness. But we 
 should be unjust to human nature did we conclude 
 that bigotry is incapable of any nobler shape and 
 impulse. Men do not generally make their faith ; 
 they receive it receive it under the best and noblest 
 influences that they can. The conviction of pos 
 sessing the true faith is therefore a necessary result 
 of religious training. From this readily arises a 
 religious conceit, which in narrow natures amounts 
 to bigotry and arrogance. Religion is looked upon 
 as a piece of property to make a show of, like any 
 worldly possession. This is doubtless a very low 
 form of religious culture, but not an utterly false 
 one. It has only stood still in the first infantile be 
 ginnings of religious development, where faith is 
 without understanding. It is the ordinary, imma 
 ture form of piety true and sincere in its way, 
 acting up to what understanding it has, and know 
 ing no better. In such cases the heart is not 
 lacking in good intentions as much as in that 
 education without which the best intentions are 
 perverted and misled. 
 
 A type of this very common form of religion is
 
 238 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Daja. She is actuated by two impulses her love 
 for Recha, to whom she clings with all fidelity and 
 devotion, and the firm conviction, mechanically 
 acquired, that only in her Church can men be saved. 
 So her -love to Recha is turned into fear for her salva 
 tion. In such a disposition unselfishness is cramped 
 by ignorance and vanity. Out of love to Recha she 
 wants to save her, and does not see that the separa 
 tion from Nathan must break her heart. It is some 
 what suspicious in so devout a Christian, that she 
 wants to save Recha from the Jew by marrying her 
 to the Templar. Daja s faith becomes so tolerant as 
 to disregard the vows of a Christian Order, if she can 
 only make a match ! Her self-love is as great as 
 her affection for Recha. This attachment furthers 
 her own little interests. Nathan knows Daja better 
 than she knows him. When she speaks of her 
 conscience, Nathan says : 
 
 " Let me but tell you first 
 What stuffs in Babylon I bought for yon 1" 
 
 Her dearest wish is to take Recha back to Europe 
 to her faith, and her home. But her own interest is 
 not forgotten. She calls out to the Templar, after 
 having betrayed the secret of Recha s birth : 
 
 " But when you take her back to Europe, Knight, 
 Pray, leave me not behind." 
 
 So her religion, like her love, is half selfishness. 
 
 THE TEMPLAR. 
 
 Let us now substitute for bigotry a character 
 totally free from it, regarding it as worthy of ridicule 
 and condemnation, lifting against it the whole force 
 of a disinterested and magnanimous heart, and a
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 239 
 
 fulness of passionate scorn. In this scorn lies a 
 danger. Contempt of error involves pride in being 
 free from it. This pride betrays immaturity, igno 
 rance. Soaring above intolerance and fanaticism, in 
 its very flight it loses itself in intolerance and fanat 
 icism. Lessing knew the inconsistency well, and 
 was without a trace of it himself. As Herder has 
 excellently said, he was no freethinker, but a right- 
 thinker. The hasty free-thinker esteems himself 
 infinitely better than the slaves of bigotry, and 
 despises them for the very reason that they esteem 
 themselves. Where the spirit of free-thinking, born 
 of a pure and noble impulse, takes the direction of 
 pride, it finds the barrier at which the capacity for 
 self-renunciation is checked and corrupted. 
 
 A well-drawn type of such a character is the 
 Templar. His Order has imposed upon him chains 
 which he writhes under and at last inwardly shakes 
 off. The wars of religion, in which his life has 
 been passed, have given him an experience of re 
 ligious fanaticism. The spirit which has begun to 
 spread through his Order favors his private indiffer 
 ence to creeds, and he expresses himself with pas 
 sionate violence whenever he encounters what he 
 takes for religious self-sufficiency. Where could 
 this be greater than among the people which esteems 
 itself the chosen of the Lord ? Hence his fierce 
 contempt of the Jews. The words which he igno- 
 rantly and unjustly aimed at Nathan would apply 
 well enough to himself: "Not all who scorn their 
 chains are free." 
 
 Yet these qualities in the Templar are so well 
 managed, and their origin so clearly explained, that 
 we do not expect and hardly wish them to be other 
 wise. The experience of his life has shown him
 
 240 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 only the dark side of the different religions, has 
 aroused in him only a bitter hatred of bigoted con 
 ceit. He is young, and, after the manner of youth, 
 quick to reject a thing wholly which seems to him 
 in one respect unjust. 
 
 The Templar s is a rare nature. He has one 
 trait in common with his poet, which, simple as it is, 
 is seldom found. He is perfectly true ; he will seem 
 nothing he is not. Even his mistakes are so sincere 
 and undisguised that they soon yield to fuller 
 knowledge. If we set aside the bonds of faith 
 imposed by his Order, which, after all, have not 
 fettered him much, we shall find the white mantle, 
 with its red cross, an appropriate badge for him. 
 The noble traits which constituted the power of the 
 Order are in harmony with his personal inclina 
 tions heroism, contempt of death, renunciation 
 of the world. In these he is a true Templar. 
 
 His early renunciation of the world makes him 
 abandon himself to solitude, resent every intrusive 
 approach, feel a weariness of life creeping over him, 
 and a disposition to sadness in the very fulness of 
 his youth. Misanthropy, as a principle, is never 
 just, and proves itself false by being always linked 
 with an exaggerated self-consciousness, and the in 
 voluntary satisfaction it occasions is of the nature of 
 egotism. A misanthropy acquired so early in life 
 as the Templar s has too little knowledge of men. 
 Its judgments are harsh, and applied by whole 
 sale. He reasons thus : They are all egotists, even 
 in their religion, where they should be least so ; 
 and the Jews are the worst, because their religion 
 obliges them to be egotists ; they first started this 
 finding fault with others, first called themselves the 
 chosen people, first had the arrogance to set up
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 24! 
 
 their God as the only true God. And the next step 
 is "Each Jew is like all Jews." 
 
 Nathan, however, reads the Templar s heart, and 
 recognizes the magnanimity capable of self-sacrifice, 
 darkened by a pride amounting almost to self-exal 
 tation. He gradually removes the barrier between 
 them, and the two recognize in one another the 
 same aspirations of an enlightened, unshackled 
 humanity. 
 
 THE LAY-BROTHER. 
 
 The unselfishness of the Templar is crippled by 
 scorn of the world and mankind. He inwardly 
 revolts against the bigotry that he sees dominant in 
 the religions of the world : this leads to misan 
 thropy, misanthropy to pride, and pride to that 
 glorification of self which is inconsistent with self- 
 renunciation. Take from self-renunciation this 
 limitation which oppresses and obscures it, substi 
 tute for self-glorification its extreme opposite self- 
 depreciation and you have a character of the hum 
 blest sort ; one of those insignificant natures which 
 cannot make themselves insignificant enough 
 which prefer to live away from men, or, if among 
 men, to be always obedient and submissive. Our 
 poem furnishes us with this necessary type in the 
 Lay-brother. Too gentle to hate those who differed 
 from him, and too peaceable to lead the wild life 
 of a soldier, he became a hermit. Now he is a friar 
 at Jerusalem, and must be obedient to the Patriarch s 
 orders. He will become a tool of the basest curiosity, 
 a spy, if he allows himself to be used so. Obedient 
 and submissive he certainly is, but not so blind nor-
 
 242 ESSAY O.V NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 so simple as the Patriarch supposes. He knows 
 enough of human nature to see through the Pa 
 triarch, and is too pure to serve his evil purposes, 
 too cunning to be as cunning as he would have him. 
 
 In his religion, compassion and love, as well as 
 submission, are all-important. So far he is a true 
 Christian. The conversation with Nathan, when he 
 warns him of the spying tricks of the Patriarch, 
 admirably expresses the character. Had the Jew 
 taken compassion on the Christian child, been a 
 loving father to the orphan, only to fall a victim to 
 the Inquisitor? The simply human and truly pious 
 mind of the Brother cannot frame the thought. 
 
 The Patriarch and the Lay-brother one of the 
 highest dignitaries of the Church, and one of the 
 humblest of the laity ! The question to be decided 
 is the fate of a child. The prelate would have the 
 child perish in misery rather than be saved by a Jew. 
 The Brother only thinks "Children need love." 
 
 The Lay-brother and the Templar both hostile to 
 religious fanaticism ! How much wiser the Brother 
 in his simple piety than the Templar in his proud 
 independence ! The Templar sees in the Jew only 
 the self-sufficiency of his creed ; the Brother sees in 
 the Christian s hate of the Jews, only hate. 
 
 " It oft has vexed. 
 
 Provoked me, e en to tears, to see how Christians 
 Forget our Saviour was himself a Jew." 
 
 The Lay-brother and Nathan the Christian and 
 the Jew ! When Nathan tells him at what a moment 
 he received the Christian child, how his wife and 
 seven sons had just been slain by the Christians, 
 how he had taken the child, kissed it, thanked God 
 for it "Of seven, Thou grantest me one again !" 
 the Brother exclaims :
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 243 
 
 " You are a Christian, Nathan I Yes, by heaven, 
 You are a Christian ! Never was a better 1" 
 
 A.nd Nathan answers : 
 
 " What makes of me a Christian in your eyes, 
 Makes you in mine a Jew. llappy for both I" 
 
 Yet, genuine as the piety of the Lay-brother is, 
 there is something ignoble in it. He is fleeing 
 from the world he fears its contact. He is at ease 
 only when free from the cares and duties involved 
 in association with men. He feels insecure amidst 
 human activity, where the best deed may have fatal 
 consequences. The good and the evil are so closely 
 woven together, that the two can hardly be distin 
 guished. To avoid the evil, he must beware even 
 of the good. But is there any good to be found 
 without this dangerous neighborhood? Renuncia 
 tion of the world is less than overcoming the world. 
 
 THE DERVISE. 
 
 It is difficult to find the happy mean in renuncia 
 tion of the world ! In the Templar it is joined to 
 pride and passion ; in the Lay-brother, to humility, 
 which degenerates into pusillanimity. It makes the 
 Templar bitter, the friar powerless. 
 
 There is a renunciation of the world, which is 
 cramped by no such limitations, perfectly unarti- 
 ficial and unconstrained, in which the soul is con 
 scious of its full power and the blessedness of free 
 dom. This form of it is native to the East. Its 
 successful type in our poem is the dervise, Al-Hafi. 
 There is nothing in the world to fetter the dervise ; 
 no passion ensnares him, no good allures him, no 
 master keeps him in dependence. He possesses
 
 244 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 nothing, and wants nothing. His is the poverty 
 of a beggar and the independence of a king. What 
 worked upon this beggar to forsake his contempla 
 tive life and become the comptroller of Saladin s 
 wealth ? Was he avaricious, or did the Sultan dis 
 cover in the dervise an undeveloped financier? 
 Neither. Saladin wanted only the dervise, the man 
 who has the virtue of not wanting anything and not 
 having anything ; he wanted the beggar who would 
 be tender of the poor, and give free play to the 
 royal generosity. And these generous motives satis 
 fied the dervise. But Al-Hafi is too clear-sighted to 
 be long deceived by an ideal. He soon makes the 
 discovery that the management of the public treasure 
 requires other qualities than the generosity of the 
 king and the humanity of the treasurer ; that the 
 best dispositions of the heart are poor agents where 
 the public weal is concerned ; that this benevolent 
 ideal is perverted into folly and confusion when the 
 public treasure is dissipated in gifts and charities. 
 The benevolent and generous king is in danger of 
 becoming a plague upon mankind, and finally a 
 prey to the covetous. "When princes are the vul 
 tures amidst the carrion, it is bad enough ; but 
 when they are the carrion amidst the vultures, tis 
 ten times worse !" 
 
 The dervise sees the folly into which Saladin is un 
 consciously leading him. This knowledge makes 
 him dissatisfied with himself. " O fool ! The fool 
 too of a fool !" He must condemn the folly ; must 
 give the thing its right name ; must atone for his 
 self-deception by the frankest acknowledgment of it. 
 And yet in Saladin s lavishness is a magnanimity to 
 which Al-Hafi feels himself akin. He cannot help 
 tracing out the good side of this foolery, as he calls
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 245 
 
 it, and he is vexed with himself again for doing 
 so for secretly loving the folly he must abandon. 
 Our dervise s head and heart are at open variance. 
 Before he took the post of treasurer they were in 
 perfect sympathy. He longs to be once more the 
 dervise who was nothing but a dervise. 
 
 He is not suited for the court. The one only 
 pleasure in which he takes passionate delight 
 playing chess is made distasteful to him. Saladin 
 loses enormous sums to Sittah. That would be no 
 great harm, for Sittah economizes them, and the 
 Sultan s lost games are the one secret bit of prof 
 itable finance carried on at court. But not only 
 does Sittah pretend to win money ; she even pre 
 tends to win the game itself. All make-believe ! 
 Generosity, and benevolence, and chess ! Such 
 things are not to be borne by the dervise, with his 
 horror of all the world s delusion. Out of tune and 
 temper he is already ; at enmity with himself, and 
 will be an enemy of his race if he do not return be 
 times to his free element. In a moment he is up 
 and away. He takes leave of none but Nathan. 
 He would prefer to take him as the companion of 
 his philosophic solitude. But even in the dervise s 
 renunciation of the world is a want which crippled 
 it, and makes it barren of all true force and freedom. 
 
 True self-abnegation overcomes the world, is 
 not estranged from it. The Templar, the friar, 
 and the dervise, unlike as they are, resemble one 
 another in this that they do not stand the test of 
 true renunciation of the world. The Templar likes 
 to feel melancholy. "Woman, do not make these 
 palms, neath which I ve loved to walk, grow hateful 
 to me, " he says to Daja. A hundred times a day the 
 friar wishes himself on Tabor. And the dervise
 
 246 ESSAY ON NATHAN- THE WISE. 
 
 longingly exclaims, "Beside the Ganges only are 
 there men." 
 
 Here is renunciation of the world consisting in 
 flight from it. In such a case, human love works 
 in just the opposite way from the force of attraction 
 in the material world : attraction diminishes as the 
 distance increases, while this form of human love 
 increases with the distance. It is not free except in 
 the wilderness. Among men, where its proper field 
 should be, it is so out of time that it might easily 
 grow into its opposite. This is what the experi 
 enced Nathan fears for his friend : 
 
 " Al-Hafi, make all haste 
 To get into your wilderness again. 
 I fear lest, living among men, you ll cease 
 To be a man yourself." 
 
 SALADIN AND SITTAH. 
 
 We will now contemplate unselfishness in high 
 places, above the range of ordinary human activities. 
 
 In Saladin, we have unselfishness in its greatness, 
 cramped by no limitations. At the height of power, 
 he is simple and content. The whole force of un 
 affected, unconstrained self-conquest makes the free 
 dom and the strength of his soul. Hence his ability 
 to govern men. 
 
 There is nothing paltry in this great soul. His 
 mind is open and receptive of all human greatness. 
 Nobility, wherever found, he joyfully welcomes as 
 akin to himself the dervise s disinterestedness, 
 Nathan s wisdom, Richard s heroism. There is no 
 dividing wall between the king and the beggar, the 
 Mussulman and the Jew, the chivalrous Sultan and 
 the chivalrous King.
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 247 
 
 A mind so susceptible to true humanity, wherever 
 found, easily rises above prejudices and narrow 
 judgments. He looks men through, and therefore 
 need neither fear nor shun them. He lets every 
 one take his own way. To foster and develop good 
 in all its forms is a necessity to him, his vocation. 
 There is something of Haroun al Raschid in our 
 Sultan. The generous-minded Saladin, with his 
 toleration of all forms, of life and forms of faith, 
 would never of himself have thought of putting to 
 Nathan the trying question: "Which is the true 
 religion ?" Such a question is not at all like him, 
 certainly not the using it as a snare to entrap the 
 Jew. It was well conceived by Lessing to make 
 this trick originate with Sittah instead of Saladin. 
 
 The Sultan, in the Italian story, did not care for 
 the truth, but only for the captious question which 
 was to ensnare the Jew. He is curious to see how 
 the Jew will escape. He therefore was satisfied by 
 a skilful evasion. Not so the Sultan of our poem, 
 who sought truth itself, and was eager for the solu 
 tion of the great, human question. In a single 
 word, Nathan explains the natural spring of faith, 
 the same in all religions : "Why should I not be 
 lieve my fathers just as firmly as you yours?" Re 
 ligious faith is intimately connected with domestic 
 love the altar with the hearth. This sinks into 
 Saladin s soul. He is, of all men, most loving of 
 his own. His faith is the faith of his fathers. This 
 obstinate and illiberal adherence of each to his own 
 faith brings the religions into conflict, sows discord 
 among the sons with their rings, and finally brings 
 them before the judge. Such is the condition of 
 the world in which Saladin lives, himself a soldier 
 for the faith of his fathers. This is the point he
 
 248 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 v/ants Nathan to arrive at in his story. His expec 
 tation strained to the utmost, he impatiently inter 
 rupts him : 
 
 " And now the judge ? 
 
 I long to hear what words you give the judge. 
 Go on 1" 
 
 He hears what his enlightened mind quickly and 
 joyfully understands. The contest between the 
 religions lets loose all the passions, which com 
 pletely obscure all that is genuine in religion. So 
 long as the sons stand up each for his own right 
 with mutual hatred, all these rings are false. "The 
 genuine ring was lost." "Oh, excellent!" cries 
 Saladin. 
 
 When the modest judge gives his counsel instead 
 of a sentence Let every one believe his ring the 
 true one, prove the power of the stone in his ring, 
 awaken the love of others by his love, then will the 
 day of reconciliation come, and with it the wiser 
 judge, who has no further need to be a judge 
 light breaks in upon the Sultan. 
 
 Nathan feels he is understood. He speaks di 
 rectly to Saladin 
 
 " If, therefore, Saladin, you feel yourself 
 That promised, wiser man " 
 
 And here w r e see the true effect of the story on 
 Saladin. He is not intoxicated by this view of the 
 great tendency of the age, or by the task which 
 claims him ; he sees only how far he and his age 
 are from the goal ; feels but his own insignificance 
 in comparison with it : 
 
 "I? Dust! I? Naught! 
 O God! 
 
 Nathan, Nathan ! 
 
 Not ended are the thousand, thousand years 
 Your judge foretold ; not mine to claim his seat. 
 Go, go ! But be my friend."
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 249 
 
 This scene between Saladin and Nathan has be 
 come a pattern which has provoked -the imitation 
 of dramatic poets this idea of bringing the ruler 
 of the world and the world s wise man face to face. 
 The greatest imitation is the famous scene between 
 Philip and Posa, in Schiller s Don Carlos between 
 the despot of the world and the citizen of the world. 
 I give the scene in Nathan the preference. The 
 greater the difference in the nature of the two char 
 acters, the more skill and imagination is displayed 
 in their meeting. With the simplest means Lessing 
 gradually produces the greatest effects ; and when 
 the sympathy between Nathan and Saladin finally 
 reveals itself, and is cemented into friendship, we 
 see what lay at the foundation of both characters. 
 It is this that makes the effect of the whole so 
 genuine and irresistible. How excellently Lessing 
 has introduced the dialogue ! The Sultan, throwing 
 out his question at first as on the spur of the mo 
 ment, with a sovereign s caprice, a royal dilettan 
 tism, requiring not only a direct answer to this 
 most difficult and embarrassing of questions, but 
 requiring it at once, as quick as possible : 
 
 " Speak 
 
 Your answer ! Or a moment would you have 
 To think upon it ? Good ; I grant it you. 
 But quick, be quick with your reflections. " 
 
 In every word a Sultan ! And now, impressed 
 by the significance of the question, as Nathan goes 
 on with his story until, at last, all the Sultan disap 
 pears, and he cries out : " I ? Dust ! I ? Naught !" 
 
 This scene underwent a singular test, when, in 
 March, 1842, a Greek translation of Lessing s Na 
 than was acted in Constantinople before Greeks and 
 Turks. The Turks were at first amazed that the
 
 250 ENS AY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 Jew should be so much at ease with the Sultan. 
 But at the story of the three rings they broke out 
 into shouts of applause. 
 
 In Saladin, everything is on a large scale. Sittah 
 loves him as only a sister can love such a brother. 
 Her soul is fashioned after this pattern, and the 
 kindred traits are unmistakable in the sister. But 
 nature has diminished them into womanly propor 
 tions, and made of Sittah not only a repetition, but 
 a supplement of Saladin. In his grand mode of 
 thinking and feeling, Saladin is apt to overlook 
 trifles. Just in these trifles does Sittah show more 
 clear-sightedness, more knowledge of the world, 
 more tact. Saladin cannot escape being deceived, 
 embarrassed. Sittah is less often misled. Her 
 precautions, her judgment, are helpful in anticipat 
 ing and relieving her brother. So in little things 
 she exercises a kind of authority over Saladin, to 
 which he willingly submits. The alliance with 
 Richard was a favorite scheme of Saladin. Sittah 
 has always laughed at his sanguine dreams. She 
 knows more of the Christians and their pride. Her 
 glance is keener for such things than Saladin s, and 
 her spirit less noble in bearing them. She is bitter 
 against that pride of religion. He counts it among 
 things petty enough to be overlooked. 
 
 Sittah s character is by no means as simple as 
 Saladin s. She is actuated by a multitude of almost 
 imperceptible feminine motives. While accomplish 
 ing one noble purpose, she manages to gratify 
 numerous minor interests. In this lies her cun 
 ning ; and she is never quite satisfied unless she can 
 employ cunning, as is illustrated in her preparation 
 for Saladin s interview with Nathan. 
 
 Looking at the noble side of Saladin s character,
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 251 
 
 we have failed to note the imperfections which must 
 be found in even so great a nature : not those 
 universal imperfections which belong to the limi 
 tations of humanity, but such as are peculiar to 
 characters of this sort natural ingredients of this 
 kind of greatness. 
 
 He has won for himself the sovereign control. 
 His powers and his destiny are in perfect harmony. 
 He can follow his inclinations freely, without inves 
 tigating them too closely. His native greatness of 
 mind leads him into the path of greatness. Hence 
 his disinterestedness ; it has no deeper source. 
 Saladin could hardly resolve to do anything con 
 trary to his natural inclinations. Here ends his 
 unselfishness. Generosity is his inclination, his 
 passion. To check this passion would be to con 
 quer himself. A wise economy in his case would 
 be a test of earnest self-sacrifice. He does not stand 
 the test. He is lavish because he cannot help it. 
 
 Before his conversation with Nathan, the Sultan is 
 not conscious of any reasons for his tolerance, and 
 seems never to have raised the question of the in 
 ward worth of religion. When he says, "Let me 
 hear the reasons which I have not myself the time 
 to find," he is in earnest in wanting them ; at the 
 same time the question betrays the most immature 
 conceptions of the source and nature of human 
 belief. When Nathan, in his story, makes true 
 toleration rest upon deep religious experience, the 
 Sultan would not have been so much startled had 
 the truth not been a ne\v oni to him. 
 
 What is wanting in this Saladin, and always must 
 be wanting in characters like his, is depth of insight, 
 reflection, wisdom. A nature that rests only on 
 inclinations, however noble, is never sure of not
 
 252 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 being at moments false to itself. This Sultan may 
 have had his fits of despotism, his outbreaks of 
 violence, when passion mastered him. Nothing 
 saved the Templar from Saladin s vengeance but his 
 resemblance to Saladin s brother. Of himself he 
 says : "I too, alas ! have many sides, which seem 
 hard to reconcile." 
 
 NATHAN AND RECHA. 
 
 It is indispensable to the firm establishment of 
 unselfishness and love of humanity that they should 
 rest, not on transient emotions, but on true wisdom 
 and experience. Disinterestedness becomes an ac 
 tual virtue only when knowledge of the world guards 
 it from becoming misanthropy, and when wisdom 
 shields it from the illusions of passion. So we rise 
 to the height of our poem. One character stands 
 before us, to which the others are but stepping- 
 stones. Whatever of truth is found in the Templar s 
 self-devotion and liberality of spirit, in the friar s 
 humility, in the dervise s unselfishness and asceti 
 cism, in Saladin s generosity and magnanimity, is 
 all united in Nathan under the control of experience 
 and wisdom. 
 
 The only character in the poem with whom 
 Nathan has nothing in common is the Patriarch. 
 Even Daja, looking down upon the Jew in her 
 pride of Christianity, must admire him: "Who 
 doubts that Nathan is honor, generosity itself?" 
 All the others feel the bond of a common human 
 ity, and are irresistibly attracted towards him. We 
 must be friends," says the Templar. "Be my 
 friend!" pleads Saladin. "You are a Christian,
 
 ESSAY OX XATIIA.V THE WISE, 253 
 
 Nathan ! Yes, by heaven ! you are a Christian !" 
 cries the friar. He is the only one Al-Hafi wants 
 to take with him to the Ganges. 
 
 This Nathan possesses the power of the original 
 ring, the art of winning hearts. He knows men ; 
 and because he knows them, he can be patient with 
 them. Narrowness comes from ignorance. To 
 purify men, is to educate them. How can they 
 be educated without dealing with each one accord 
 ing to his own nature, without changing ignorance 
 into a need and a capacity ? Lessing understood 
 religion to be the education of the human race, and 
 from this idea, the last he bequeathed to us, he ex 
 plains the historical necessity of different forms of 
 revelation and belief. 
 
 A type of religion, in this sense, is his Nathan. 
 In him, toleration is not a mere matter of inclina 
 tion and personal gratification, but of determination, 
 character, moral training. Such a training is the 
 ripest fruit of a mature experience. In every word 
 and act of Nathan, we trace this impress of perfect 
 maturity. His judgments are drawn from the ful 
 ness of experience ; his sentences are truths that he 
 has lived : they flow from his heart, simple, natural, 
 sure. He has made himself what he is. He has 
 fought the fight of self-abnegation, and its hardest 
 battles are behind him. He has been purified by 
 trials. The Christians had slain his wife and sons : 
 he took his revenge by becoming a father to a 
 Christian child, and never spoke of his deed. 
 
 Here we read his character. His self-sacrifice is his 
 resolution. After this trial there need be no second. 
 His will is not in sympathy with inclination ; it is 
 not natural nobility, like Saladin s, but moral. His 
 self-sacrifice has cast off all that is unreal ; it stum- 
 
 22
 
 254 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 bles not at pride or fear ; it strays neither into 
 misanthropy nor asceticism. He who has been 
 brought so near to hatred of a creed, will not arro 
 gantly condemn hatred of a creed in others. He 
 who has so wrestled with himself and his passions, 
 can make allowance for passions in others : the 
 less he has yielded to his own, the more allowance 
 he will make. Such self-conquest is the purest 
 source of human knowledge and of love in the wide 
 sense. 
 
 But why did Lessing make Nathan a Jew? 
 
 That question is always asked, and often in a 
 tone of blame. "The Patriarch a Christian and 
 Nathan a Jew!" people exclaim. "In the Patri 
 arch, Lessing has gratified his hatred of Christianity ; 
 in Nathan, his predilection for Judaism. In the 
 Patriarch, he was representing his enemy, the Pastor 
 Gotze ; in Nathan, his friend the Jewish philoso 
 pher, Moses Mendelssohn." And so the choice of 
 these characters is accounted for by the prejudices 
 of the poet, who, it is claimed, was in sympathy 
 with everything hostile to Christianity. So must 
 judgments err which start from the idea that the 
 three religions are personified in the poem. 
 
 Why is Nathan a Jew ? To answer this question 
 aright, we need consider neither Lessing s friend 
 ship for Mendelssohn, nor the reaction of that time 
 in favor of Judaism. We only need to understand 
 the character as the poem presents it a character 
 in which toleration springs from self-renunciation, 
 and is the result of an effort. It is easy to be tol 
 erant where there is no reason for being otherwise. 
 The virtue of toleration is not easy it must spring 
 from conflicts. 
 
 Take, now, a religion by nature intolerant and
 
 ESSAY ON NATIIAS THE WISE. 255 
 
 proud, the proudest, the most oppressed of all the 
 religions of the world. Imagine a man permitted 
 by his religion to esteem himself the chosen of God, 
 but condemned by the world, despised and rejected 
 of men. If his soul yields to this twofold pressure, 
 and follows the natural course of human passions, 
 it must be consumed by hatred and revenge. There 
 must be kindled a thirst for vengeance, so demoni 
 acal, so beastly in beastly natures, that it would tear 
 the pound of flesh from an enemy s heart, if only to 
 bait a hook with it. Yet when these passions, 
 which in their worst and lowest forms make a Shy- 
 lock, are conquered by a noble soul when tolera- 
 tio i is wrested from a religion at once the proudest 
 anJ most oppressed we have a Nathan. He will 
 not now, indeed, narrowly represent his religion ; 
 but toleration would not cost what it does, if he did 
 not prize his religion and were not in sympathy 
 with it. He still feels it to be his religion, the faith 
 of his people and his fathers the faith to which he 
 is linked by a thousand indissoluble ties. He does 
 not represent Judaism, but he is and remains a 
 jew not because Judaism is a tolerant religion, 
 but because it is the reverse. Who that under 
 stands his character would wish him otherwise? 
 The admiring expression of the Templar describes 
 him "What a Jew ! Who yet insists on seeming 
 wholly, only Jew !" 
 
 Lessing wished to depict self-renunciation under 
 the most unfavorable conditions, and self-seeking 
 under the most favorable. Where faith appears but 
 as the tool of ambition, every religion, as such, is 
 too good to be represented. A character like the 
 Patriarch represents not religion, but egotism in 
 trenched behind religion. Such characters join
 
 256 ESSAY ON NATHAN TUE WISE. 
 
 themselves to the dominant faith of their time, what 
 ever it may be. They are to be met everywhere, 
 and we are far from making any one form of reli 
 gious belief responsible for the Patriarch. 
 
 It is plain now why Lessing made his heartless 
 egotist the Patriarch, and Nathan a Jew. The 
 characters that he wanted to represent required it. 
 That he should draw some qualities from the life, 
 should trace in the Patriarch some likeness to the 
 pastor of Hamburg, comes under the legitimate 
 province of the dramatic poet. 
 
 Let us return to Nathan. What he has learned 
 by experience he wishes to give by education to the 
 child who is to take the place of his sons. The 
 fruit of this education is Recha. She is what Nathan 
 has made her. A wise education forms our second 
 nature out of the capacities of the first ; it does not 
 destroy, but develops ; it seeks to cleanse the true 
 and bring it forward into action. Thus has Nathan 
 educated Recha. In her, unselfishness is second 
 nature, not a hardly won virtue. What Nathan has 
 worked out for himself under the most unfavorable 
 circumstances is developed in Recha s soul under 
 the most favorable. Nathan s virtue grows out of 
 self-conquest out of victory over the proud and op 
 pressed religion in which he was trained, and over 
 the natural desire for revenge kindled in him by a 
 hard fate. Recha s virtue from the outset merely 
 obeys the voice of the tenderest of fathers. She is 
 not brought up as a Jewess, but merely as Nathan s 
 daughter. She knows Nathan only as her father, 
 and the world only through him. In his hand her 
 soul feels safe and free ; and foreign to her are all 
 representations that would draw her away from him 
 to another religion and another home. To every
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 257 
 
 word of Nathan s her heart involuntarily opens ; 
 involuntarily it closes against every suggestion of 
 Daja. She lives in her father. In him is her 
 world, her religion, her home ; away from him/her 
 thoughts are busy with him her imagination follows 
 him on his journey, her soul trembles at his possi 
 ble dangers ; the thought of him gives new percep 
 tions she feels his approach, she anticipates his 
 return, and her soul forsakes her body to haste to 
 meet him. 
 
 Here we have the key-note of Recha s nature. 
 The impulse of self-devotion has so the force of 
 nature in her that it amounts to a loss of self- 
 consciousness. She loses herself in her longing 
 hangs upon the object of it with all the strength of 
 a youthful, exuberant fancy lives only for this ob 
 ject, exalted by her unbridled imagination above all 
 others. Such a devotion, amounting to the giving 
 up of one s own consciousness, is eccentric. In 
 such a condition of the mind all sober judgment of 
 things is changed into that excited fancy which 
 causes visions and dreams. Now imagine this 
 Recha suddenly in danger of death by fire, sud 
 denly rescued by a stranger at a moment when all 
 human aid seemed hopeless. A boundless grati 
 tude takes possession of her imagination, already 
 inclined to heavenly visions ; her deliverance seems 
 to her a miracle of God, performed by the inter 
 vention of a guardian angel. So to her fancy the 
 Templar becomes an angel. It is in the nature of 
 true gratitude to ennoble the benefactor. To criti 
 cise a favor is a prelude to ingratitude. 
 
 Nathan sees at once the only way of purging 
 Recha s fancy of extravagance. How considerately 
 and lovingly he at first enters into her views, that 
 22*
 
 258 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 
 
 he may afterward correct them with firmness ! With 
 a father s fond flattery he first accepts her idea of an 
 angelic apparition. " Recha would be worth an 
 angel s visiting ; and would, in him, see naught 
 more fair than he, in her." He grants her the angel 
 and the miracle ; yet skilfully makes her accustomed 
 to the ideas that the angel might be a man, and the 
 miracle be wrought by natural means. 
 
 " The greatest miracle of all is this : 
 That true and genuine miracles become 
 Of no significance." 
 
 This dialogue shows us again in what faith Na 
 than lives. For him there is but one sure test of 
 religion self-renunciation ; and but one test of 
 self-renunciation the voluntary subordination of 
 one s own will to others. All the powers within us 
 must work together for this. The true faith, as far 
 as it is possible in humanity, must be tested by the 
 heart. Man cannot hold religious truth as an ex 
 ternal possession, a philosopher s stone ; it must be 
 the very kernel of his being. " By their fruits ye 
 shall know them." Holding this view of religion, 
 Nathan had never thought of putting to himself the 
 question suddenly proposed to him by Saladin. " I 
 pray you, tell me what belief what law has most 
 commended itself to you." The question takes 
 him by surprise. It is not in his line of thought. 
 It may be a snare, or it may be the expression of 
 the Sultan s sincere desire for truth. In vain Nathan 
 draws back, saying : " Sultan, I am a Jew. " Sala 
 din presses for a decisive answer. The soliloquy in 
 which he prepares his answer is perfect in its way. 
 None but Lessing could have written it. It should 
 be read with a full appreciation of the fact, that 
 Lessing s punctuation marks are significant, elo-
 
 ESSAY ON NATHAN THE WISE. 259 
 
 quent. Every comma, every semicolon speaks. 
 Some writers use dashes to conceal a want of 
 thought ; Lessing uses them when too many 
 thoughts crowd into one moment ; they denote that 
 silence which is most eloquent. 
 
 Nathan is not the traditional Jew, and does not 
 choose to be ; but he is and always will be a Jew. 
 Why ? Perhaps this simple question is raised in 
 his mind now for the first time. The answer is 
 plain. It is the faith of his people and of his 
 fathers, born in him with his birth, woven into all 
 the history of his life, a part of himself. Abandon 
 ing his religion would be like abjuring his fathers. 
 It is his father s ring. So it is, save in characters 
 of exceptional strength or exceptional weakness, 
 with any form of belief in which one has been 
 brought up. 
 
 The reader has, we trust, appreciated that our 
 poem embodies ideas which place it beyond the re 
 quirements of merely dramatic art, and that it is 
 aptly called Nathan the Wise, from its fulness of 
 real wisdom. Surely this poem, if any, deserves to 
 be prefaced by the motto of the old philosopher : 
 " Enter here ; for here, too, are Gods."
 
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