Books: Nathan the Wise
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Gotthold Ephraim Lessing >> Nathan the Wise
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NATHAN.
Well spoken, by our God!
Embrace me, man, you're still, I trust, my friend.
HAFI.
Why not ask first what has been made of me?
NATHAN.
Ask climbers to look back!
HAFI.
And may I not
Have grown to such a creature in the state
That my old friendship is no longer welcome?
NATHAN.
If you still bear your dervis-heart about you
I'll run the risk of that. Th' official robe
Is but your cloak.
HAFI.
A cloak, that claims some honour.
What think'st thou? At a court of thine how great
Had been Al-Hafi?
NATHAN.
Nothing but a dervis.
If more, perhaps--what shall I say--my cook.
HAFI.
In order to unlearn my native trade.
Thy cook--why not thy butler too? The Sultan,
He knows me better, I'm his treasurer.
NATHAN.
You, you?
HAFI.
Mistake not--of the lesser purse -
His father manages the greater still -
The purser of his household.
NATHAN.
That's not small.
HAFI.
'Tis larger than thou think'st; for every beggar
Is of his household.
NATHAN.
He's so much their foe -
HAFI.
That he'd fain root them out--with food and raiment -
Tho' he turn beggar in the enterprize.
NATHAN.
Bravo, I meant so.
HAFI.
And he's almost such.
His treasury is every day, ere sun-set,
Poorer than empty; and how high so e'er
Flows in the morning tide, 'tis ebb by noon.
NATHAN.
Because it circulates through such canals
As can be neither stopped, nor filled.
HAFI.
Thou hast it.
NATHAN.
I know it well.
HAFI.
Nathan, 'tis woeful doing
When kings are vultures amid caresses:
But when they're caresses amid the vultures
'Tis ten times worse.
NATHAN.
No, dervis, no, no, no.
HAFI.
Thou mayst well talk so. Now then, let me hear
What wouldst thou give me to resign my office?
NATHAN.
What does it bring you in?
HAFI.
To me, not much;
But thee, it might indeed enrich: for when,
As often happens, money is at ebb,
Thou couldst unlock thy sluices, make advances,
And take in form of interest all thou wilt.
NATHAN.
And interest upon interest of the interest -
HAFI.
Certainly.
NATHAN.
Till my capital becomes
All interest.
HAFI.
How--that does not take with thee?
Then write a finis to our book of friendship;
For I have reckoned on thee.
NATHAN.
How so, Hafi?
HAFI.
That thou wouldst help me to go thro' my office
With credit, grant me open chest with thee -
Dost shake thy head?
NATHAN.
Let's understand each other.
Here's a distinction to be made. To you,
To dervis Hafi, all I have is open;
But to the defterdar of Saladin,
To that Al-Hafi -
HAFI.
Spoken like thyself!
Thou hast been ever no less kind than cautious.
The two Al-Hafis thou distinguishest
Shall soon be parted. See this coat of honour,
Which Saladin bestowed--before 'tis worn
To rags, and suited to a dervis' back, -
Will in Jerusalem hang upon the hook;
While I along the Ganges scorching strand,
Amid my teachers shall be wandering barefoot.
NATHAN.
That's like you.
HAFI.
Or be playing chess among them.
NATHAN.
Your sovereign good.
HAFI.
What dost thou think seduced me.
The wish of having not to beg in future -
The pride of acting the rich man to beggars -
Would these have metamorphosed a rich beggar
So suddenly into a poor rich man?
NATHAN.
No, I think not.
HAFI.
A sillier, sillier weakness,
For the first time my vanity was tempter,
Flattered by Saladin's good-hearted notion -
NATHAN.
Which was?
HAFI.
That all a beggar's wants are only
Known to a beggar: such alone can tell
How to relieve them usefully and wisely.
"Thy predecessor was too cold for me,
(He said) and when he gave, he gave unkindly;
Informed himself with too precautious strictness
Concerning the receiver, not content
To leant the want, unless he knew its cause,
And measuring out by that his niggard bounty.
Thou wilt not thus bestow. So harshly kind
Shall Saladin not seem in thee. Thou art not
Like the choked pipe, whence sullied and by spurts
Flow the pure waters it absorbs in silence.
Al-Hafi thinks and feels like me." So nicely
The fowler whistled, that at last the quail
Ran to his net. Cheated, and by a cheat -
NATHAN.
Tush! dervis, gently.
HAFI.
What! and is't not cheating,
Thus to oppress mankind by hundred thousands,
To squeeze, grind, plunder, butcher, and torment,
And act philanthropy to individuals? -
Not cheating--thus to ape from the Most High
The bounty, which alike on mead and desert,
Upon the just and the unrighteous, falls
In sunshine or in showers, and not possess
The never-empty hand of the Most High? -
Not cheating -
NATHAN.
Cease!
HAFI.
Of my own cheating sure
It is allowed to speak. Were it not cheating
To look for the fair side of these impostures,
In order, under colour of its fairness,
To gain advantage from them--ha?
NATHAN.
Al-Hafi,
Go to your desert quickly. Among men
I fear you'll soon unlearn to be a man.
HAFI.
And so do I--farewell.
NATHAN.
What, so abruptly?
Stay, stay, Al-Hafi; has the desert wings?
Man, 'twill not run away, I warrant you -
Hear, hear, I want you--want to talk with you -
He's gone. I could have liked to question him
About our templar. He will likely know him.
NATHAN and DAYA.
DAYA (bursting in).
O Nathan, Nathan!
NATHAN.
Well, what now?
DAYA.
He's there.
He shows himself again.
NATHAN.
Who, Daya, who?
DAYA.
He! he!
NATHAN.
When cannot He be seen? Indeed
Your He is only one; that should not be,
Were he an angel even.
DAYA.
'Neath the palms
He wanders up and down, and gathers dates.
NATHAN.
And eats?--and as a templar?
DAYA.
How you tease us!
Her eager eye espied him long ago,
While he scarce gleamed between the further stems,
And follows him most punctually. Go,
She begs, conjures you, go without delay;
And from the window will make signs to you
Which way his rovings bend. Do, do make haste.
NATHAN.
What! thus, as I alighted from my camel,
Would that be decent? Swift, do you accost him,
Tell him of my return. I do not doubt,
His delicacy in the master's absence
Forbore my house; but gladly will accept
The father's invitation. Say, I ask him,
Most heartily request him -
DAYA.
All in vain!
In short, he will not visit any Jew.
NATHAN.
Then do thy best endeavours to detain him,
Or with thine eyes to watch his further haunt,
Till I rejoin you. I shall not be long.
SCENE--A Place of Palms.
The TEMPLAR walking to and fro, a FRIAR following him at some
distance, as if desirous of addressing him.
TEMPLAR.
This fellow does not follow me for pastime.
How skaunt he eyes his hands! Well, my good brother -
Perhaps I should say, father; ought I not?
FRIAR.
No--brother--a lay-brother at your service.
TEMPLAR.
Well, brother, then; if I myself had something -
But--but, by God, I've nothing.
FRIAR.
Thanks the same;
And God reward your purpose thousand-fold!
The will, and not the deed, makes up the giver.
Nor was I sent to follow you for alms -
TEMPLAR.
Sent then?
FRIAR.
Yes, from the monastery.
TEMPLAR.
Where
I was just now in hopes of coming in
For pilgrims' fare.
FRIAR.
They were already at table:
But if it suit with you to turn directly -
TEMPLAR.
Why so? 'Tis true, I have not tasted meat
This long time. What of that? The dates are ripe.
FRIAR.
O with that fruit go cautiously to work.
Too much of it is hurtful, sours the humours,
Makes the blood melancholy.
TEMPLAR.
And if I
Choose to be melancholy--For this warning
You were not sent to follow me, I ween.
FRIAR.
Oh, no: I only was to ask about you,
And feel your pulse a little.
TEMPLAR.
And you tell me
Of that yourself?
FRIAR.
Why not?
TEMPLAR.
A deep one! troth:
And has your cloister more such?
FRIAR.
I can't say.
Obedience is our bounden duty.
TEMPLAR.
So -
And you obey without much scrupulous questioning?
FRIAR.
Were it obedience else, good sir?
TEMPLAR.
How is it
The simple mind is ever in the right?
May you inform me who it is that wishes
To know more of me? 'Tis not you yourself,
I dare be sworn.
FRIAR.
Would it become me, sir,
Or benefit me?
TEMPLAR.
Whom can it become,
Whom can it benefit, to be so curious?
FRIAR.
The patriarch, I presume--'twas he that sent me.
TEMPLAR.
The patriarch? Knows he not my badge, the cross
Of red on the white mantle?
FRIAR.
Can I say?
TEMPLAR.
Well, brother, well! I am a templar, taken
Prisoner at Tebnin, whose exalted fortress,
Just as the truce expired, we sought to climb,
In order to push forward next to Sidon.
I was the twentieth captive, but the only
Pardoned by Saladin--with this, the patriarch
Knows all, or more than his occasions ask.
FRIAR.
And yet no more than he already knows,
I think. But why alone of all the captives
Thou hast been spared, he fain would learn -
TEMPLAR.
Can I
Myself tell that? Already, with bare neck,
I kneeled upon my mantle, and awaited
The blow--when Saladin with steadfast eye
Fixed me, sprang nearer to me, made a sign -
I was upraised, unbound, about to thank him -
And saw his eye in tears. Both stand in silence.
He goes. I stay. How all this hangs together,
Thy patriarch may unriddle.
FRIAR.
He concludes,
That God preserved you for some mighty deed.
TEMPLAR.
Some mighty deed? To save out of the fire
A Jewish girl--to usher curious pilgrims
About Mount Sinai--to -
FRIAR.
The time may come -
And this is no such trifle--but perhaps
The patriarch meditates a weightier office.
TEMPLAR.
Think you so, brother? Has he hinted aught?
FRIAR.
Why, yes; I was to sift you out a little,
And hear if you were one to -
TEMPLAR.
Well--to what?
I'm curious to observe how this man sifts.
FRIAR.
The shortest way will be to tell you plainly
What are the patriarch's wishes.
TEMPLAR.
And they are -
FRIAR.
To send a letter by your hand.
TEMPLAR.
By me?
I am no carrier. And were that an office
More meritorious than to save from burning
A Jewish maid?
FRIAR.
So it should seem; must seem -
For, says the patriarch, to all Christendom
This letter is of import; and to bear it
Safe to its destination, says the patriarch,
God will reward with a peculiar crown
In heaven; and of this crown, the patriarch says,
No one is worthier than you -
TEMPLAR.
Than I?
FRIAR.
For none so able, and so fit to earn
This crown, the patriarch says, as you.
TEMPLAR.
As I?
FRIAR.
The patriarch here is free, can look about him,
And knows, he says, how cities may be stormed,
And how defended; knows, he says, the strengths
And weaknesses of Saladin's new bulwark,
And of the inner rampart last thrown up;
And to the warriors of the Lord, he says,
Could clearly point them out; -
TEMPLAR.
And can I know
Exactly the contents of this same letter?
FRIAR.
Why, that I don't pretend to vouch exactly -
'Tis to King Philip: and our patriarch -
I often wonder how this holy man,
Who lives so wholly to his God and heaven,
Can stoop to be so well informed about
Whatever passes here--'Tis a hard task!
TEMPLAR.
Well--and your patriarch -
FRIAR.
Knows, with great precision,
And from sure hands, how, when, and with what force,
And in which quarter, Saladin, in case
The war breaks out afresh, will take the field.
TEMPLAR.
He knows that?
FRIAR.
Yes; and would acquaint King Philip,
That he may better calculate, if really
The danger be so great as to require
Him to renew at all events the truce
So bravely broken by your body.
TEMPLAR.
So?
This is a patriarch indeed! He wants
No common messenger; he wants a spy.
Go tell your patriarch, brother, I am not,
As far as you can sift, the man to suit him.
I still esteem myself a prisoner, and
A templar's only calling is to fight,
And not to ferret out intelligence.
FRIAR.
That's much as I supposed, and, to speak plainly,
Not to be blamed. The best is yet behind.
The patriarch has made out the very fortress,
Its name, and strength, and site on Libanon,
Wherein the mighty sums are now concealed,
With which the prudent father of the sultan
Provides the cost of war, and pays the army.
He knows that Saladin, from time to time,
Goes to this fortress, through by-ways and passe
With few attendants.
TEMPLAR.
Well -
FRIAR.
How easy 'twere
To seize his person in these expeditions,
And make an end of all! You shudder, sir -
Two Maronites, who fear the Lord, have offer
To share the danger of the enterprise,
Under a proper leader.
TEMPLAR.
And the patriarch
Had cast his eye on me for this brave office?
FRIAR.
He thinks King Philip might from Ptolemais
Best second such a deed.
TEMPLAR.
On me? on me?
Have you not heard then, just now heard, the favour
Which I received from Saladin?
FRIAR.
Oh, yes!
TEMPLAR.
And yet?
FRIAR.
The patriarch thinks--that's mighty well -
God, and the order's interest -
TEMPLAR.
Alter nothing,
Command no villainies.
FRIAR.
No, that indeed not;
But what is villainy in human eyes
May in the sight of God, the patriarch thinks,
Not be -
TEMPLAR.
I owe my life to Saladin,
And might take his?
FRIAR.
That--fie! But Saladin,
The patriarch thinks, is yet the common foe
Of Christendom, and cannot earn a right
To be your friend.
TEMPLAR.
My friend--because I will not
Behave like an ungrateful scoundrel to him.
FRIAR.
Yet gratitude, the patriarch thinks, is not
A debt before the eye of God or man,
Unless for our own sakes the benefit
Had been conferred; and, it has been reported,
The patriarch understands that Saladin
Preserved your life merely because your voice,
Your air, or features, raised a recollection
Of his lost brother.
TEMPLAR.
He knows this? and yet -
If it were sure, I should--ah, Saladin!
How! and shall nature then have formed in me
A single feature in thy brother's likeness,
With nothing in my soul to answer to it?
Or what does correspond shall I suppress
To please a patriarch? So thou dost not cheat us,
Nature--and so not contradict Thyself,
Kind God of all.--Go, brother, go away:
Do not stir up my anger.
FRIAR.
I withdraw
More gladly than I came. We cloister-folk
Are forced to vow obedience to superiors.
[Goes
TEMPLAR and DAYA.
DAYA.
The monk, methinks, left him in no good mood:
But I must risk my message.
TEMPLAR.
Better still
The proverb says that monks and women are
The devil's clutches; and I'm tossed to-day
From one to th' other.
DAYA.
Whom do I behold? -
Thank God! I see you, noble knight, once more.
Where have you lurked this long, long space? You've not
Been ill?
TEMPLAR.
No.
DAYA.
Well, then?
TEMPLAR.
Yes.
DAYA.
We've all been anxious
Lest something ailed you.
TEMPLAR.
So?
DAYA.
Have you been journeying?
TEMPLAR.
Hit off!
DAYA.
How long returned?
TEMPLAR.
Since yesterday.
DAYA.
Our Recha's father too is just returned,
And now may Recha hope at last -
TEMPLAR.
For what?
DAYA.
For what she often has requested of you.
Her father pressingly invites your visit.
He now arrives from Babylon, with twenty
High-laden camels, brings the curious drugs,
And precious stones, and stuffs, he has collected
From Syria, Persia, India, even China.
TEMPLAR.
I am no chap.
DAYA.
His nation honours him,
As if he were a prince, and yet to hear him
Called the WISE Nathan by them, not the RICH,
Has often made me wonder.
TEMPLAR.
To his nation
Are RICH and WISE perhaps of equal import.
DAYA.
But above all he should be called the GOOD.
You can't imagine how much goodness dwells
Within him. Since he has been told the service
You rendered to his Recha, there is nothing
That he would grudge you.
TEMPLAR.
Aye?
DAYA.
Do--see him, try him.
TEMPLAR.
A burst of feeling soon is at an end.
DAYA.
And do you think that I, were he less kind,
Less bountiful, had housed with him so long:
That I don't feel my value as a Christian:
For 'twas not o'er my cradle said, or sung,
That I to Palestina should pursue
My husband's steps, only to educate
A Jewess. My husband was a noble page
In Emperor Frederic's army.
TEMPLAR.
And by birth
A Switzer, who obtained the gracious honour
Of drowning in one river with his master.
Woman, how often you have told me this!
Will you ne'er leave off persecuting me?
DAYA.
My Jesus! persecute -
TEMPLAR.
Aye, persecute.
Observe then, I henceforward will not see,
Not hear you, nor be minded of a deed
Over and over, which I did unthinking,
And which, when thought about, I wonder at.
I wish not to repent it; but, remember,
Should the like accident occur again,
'Twill be your fault if I proceed more coolly,
Ask a few questions, and let burn what's burning.
DAYA.
My God forbid!
TEMPLAR.
From this day forth, good woman,
Do me at least the favour not to know me:
I beg it of you; and don't send the father.
A Jew's a Jew, and I am rude and bearish.
The image of the maid is quite erased
Out of my soul--if it was ever there -
DAYA.
But yours remains with her.
TEMPLAR.
Why so--what then -
Wherefore give harbour to it? -
DAYA.
Who knows wherefore?
Men are not always what they seem to be.
TEMPLAR.
They're seldom better than they seem to be.
DAYA.
Ben't in this hurry.
TEMPLAR.
Pray, forbear to make
These palm-trees odious. I have loved to walk here.
DAYA.
Farewell then, bear. Yet I must track the savage.
ACT II.
SCENE--The Sultan's Palace.--An outer room of Sittah's apartment.
SALADIN and SITTAH, playing chess.
SITTAH.
Wherefore so absent, brother? How you play!
SALADIN.
Not well? I thought -
SITTAH.
Yes; very well for me,
Take back that move.
SALADIN.
Why?
SITTAH.
Don't you see the knight
Becomes exposed?
SALADIN.
'Tis true: then so.
SITTAH.
And so
I take the pawn.
SALADIN.
That's true again. Then, check!
SITTAH.
That cannot help you. When my king is castled
All will be safe.
SALADIN.
But out of my dilemma
'Tis not so easy to escape unhurt.
Well, you must have the knight.
SITTAH.
I will not have him,
I pass him by.
SALADIN.
In that, there's no forbearance:
The place is better than the piece.
SITTAH.
Maybe.
SALADIN.
Beware you reckon not without your host:
This stroke you did not think of.
SITTAH.
No, indeed;
I did not think you tired of your queen.
SALADIN.
My queen?
SITTAH.
Well, well! I find that I to-day
Shall earn a thousand dinars to an asper.
SALADIN.
How so, my sister?
SITTAH.
Play the ignorant -
As if it were not purposely thou losest.
I find not my account in 't; for, besides
That such a game yields very little pastime,
When have I not, by losing, won with thee?
When hast thou not, by way of comfort to me
For my lost game, presented twice the stake?
SALADIN.
So that it may have been on purpose, sister,
That thou hast lost at times.
SITTAH.
At least, my brother's
Great liberality may be one cause
Why I improve no faster.
SALADIN.
We forget
The game before us: lot us make an end of it.
SITTAH.
I move--so--now then--check! and check again!
SALADIN.
This countercheck I wasn't aware of, Sittah;
My queen must fall the sacrifice.
SITTAH.
Let's see -
Could it be helped?
SALADIN.
No, no, take off the queen!
That is a piece which never thrives with me.
SITTAH.
Only that piece?
SALADIN.
Off with it! I shan't miss it.
Thus I guard all again.
SITTAH.
How civilly
We should behave to queens, my brother's lessons
Have taught me but too well.
SALADIN.
Take her, or not,
I stir the piece no more.
SITTAH.
Why should I take her?
Check!
SALADIN.
Go on.
SITTAH.
Check! -
SALADIN.
And check-mate?
SITTAH.
Hold! not yet.
You may advance the knight, and ward the danger,
Or as you will--it is all one.
SALADIN.
It is so.
You are the winner, and Al-Hafi pays.
Let him be called. Sittah, you was not wrong;
I seem to recollect I was unmindful -
A little absent. One isn't always willing
To dwell upon some shapeless bits of wood
Coupled with no idea. Yet the Imam,
When I play with him, bends with such abstraction -
The loser seeks excuses. Sittah, 'twas not
The shapeless men, and the unmeaning squares,
That made me heedless--your dexterity,
Your calm sharp eye.
SITTAH.
And what of that, good brother,
Is that to be th' excuse for your defeat?
Enough--you played more absently than I.
SALADIN.
Than you! What dwells upon your mind, my Sittah?
Not your own cares, I doubt -
SITTAH.
O Saladin,
When shall we play again so constantly?
SALADIN.
An interruption will but whet our zeal.
You think of the campaign. Well, let it come.
It was not I who first unsheathed the sword.
I would have willingly prolonged the truce,
And willingly have knit a closer bond,
A lasting one--have given to my Sittah
A husband worthy of her, Richard's brother.
SITTAH.
You love to talk of Richard.
SALADIN.
Richard's sister
Might then have been allotted to our Melek.
O what a house that would have formed--the first -
The best--and what is more--of earth the happiest!
You know I am not loth to praise myself;
Why should I?--Of my friends am I not worthy?
O we had then led lives!
SITTAH.
A pretty dream.
It makes me smile. You do not know the Christians.
You will not know them. 'Tis this people's pride
Not to be men, but to be Christians. Even
What of humane their Founder felt, and taught,
And left to savour their found superstition,
They value not because it is humane,
Lovely, and good for man; they only prize it
Because 'twas Christ who taught it, Christ who did it.
'Tis well for them He was so good a man:
Well that they take His goodness all for granted,
And in His virtues put their trust. His virtues -
'Tis not His virtues, but His name alone
They wish to thrust upon us--'Tis His name
Which they desire should overspread the world,
Should swallow up the name of all good men,
And put the best to shame. 'Tis His mere name
They care for -
SALADIN.
Else, my Sittah, as thou sayst,
They would not have required that thou, and Melek,
Should be called Christians, ere you might be suffered
To feel for Christians conjugal affection.
SITTAH.
As if from Christians only, and as Christians,
That love could be expected which our Maker
In man and woman for each other planted.
SALADIN.
The Christians do believe such idle notions,
They well might fancy this: and yet thou errest.
The templars, not the Christians, are in fault.
'Tis not as Christians, but as templars, that
They thwart my purpose. They alone prevent it.
They will on no account evacuate Acca,
Which was to be the dower of Richard's sister,
And, lest their order suffer, use this cant -
Bring into play the nonsense of the monk -
And scarcely would await the truce's end
To fall upon us. Go on so--go on,
To me you're welcome, sirs. Would all things else
Went but as right!
SITTAH.
What else should trouble thee,
If this do not?
SALADIN.
Why, that which ever has.
I've been on Libanon, and seen our father.
He's full of care.
SITTAH.
Alas!
SALADIN.
He can't make shift,
Straitened on all sides, put off, disappointed;
Nothing comes in.
SITTAH.
What fails him, Saladin?
SALADIN.
What? but the thing I scarcely deign to name,
Which, when I have it, so superfluous seems,
And, when I have it not, so necessary.
Where is Al-Hafi then--this fatal money -
O welcome, Hafi!
HAFI, SALADIN, and SITTAH.
HAFI.
I suppose the gold
From Egypt is arrived.
SALADIN.
Hast tidings of it?
HAFI.
I? no, not I. I thought to have ta'en it here.
SALADIN.
To Sittah pay a thousand dinars.
HAFI.
Pay?
And not receive--that's something less than nothing.
To Sittah and again to Sittah--and
Once more for loss at chess? Is this your game?
SITTAH.
Dost grudge me my good fortune?
HAFI (examining the board).
Grudge! you know -
SITTAH (making signs to Hafi).
Hush, Hafi, hush!
HAFI.
And were the white men yours?
You gave the check?
SITTAH.
'Tis well he does not hear.
HAFI.
And he to move?
SITTAH (approaching Hafi).
Say then aloud that I
Shall have my money.
HAFI (still considering the game).
Yes, yes! you shall have it -
As you have always had it.
SITTAH.
Are you crazy?
HAFI.
The game is not decided; Saladin,
You have not lost.
SALADIN (scarcely hearkening).
Well, well!--pay, pay.
HAFI.
Pay, pay -
There stands your queen.
SALADIN (still walking about).
It boots not, she is useless.
SITTAH (low to Hafi).
Do say that I may send and fetch the gold.
HAFI.
Aye, aye, as usual--But although the queen
Be useless, you are by no means check-mate.
SALADIN (dashes down the board).
I am. I will then -
HAFI.
So! small pains, small gains;
As got, so spent.
SALADIN (to Sittah).
What is he muttering there?
SITTAH (to Saladin, winking meanwhile to Hafi).
You know him well, and his unyielding way.
He chooses to be prayed to--maybe he's envious -
SALADIN.
No, not of thee, not of my sister, surely.
What do I hear, Al-Hafi, are you envious?
HAFI.
Perhaps. I'd rather have her head than mine,
Or her heart either.
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