Books: Nathan the Wise
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Gotthold Ephraim Lessing >> Nathan the Wise
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SALADIN.
A shamed that a Jew girl knew how to make
Impression on thee, surely not.
TEMPLAR.
But that
To this impression my rash yielding heart,
Trusting the smoothness of the father's prate,
Opposed no more resistance. Fool--I sprang
A second time into the flame, and then
I wooed, and was denied.
SALADIN.
Denied! Denied!
TEMPLAR.
The prudent father does not flatly say
No to my wishes, but the prudent father
Must first inquire, and look about, and think.
Oh, by all means. Did not I do the same?
Did not I look about and ask who 'twas
While she was shrieking in the flame? Indeed,
By God, 'tis something beautifully wise
To be so circumspect.
SALADIN.
Come, come, forgive
Something to age. His lingerings cannot last.
He is not going to require of thee
First to turn Jew.
TEMPLAR.
Who knows?
SALADIN.
Who? I, who know
This Nathan better.
TEMPLAR.
Yet the superstition
In which we have grown up, not therefore loses
When we detect it, all its influence on us.
Not all are free that can bemock their fetters.
SALADIN.
Maturely said--but Nathan, surely Nathan -
TEMPLAR.
The worst of superstitions is to think
One's own most bearable.
SALADIN.
May be, but Nathan -
TEMPLAR.
Must Nathan be the mortal, who unshrinking
Can face the moon-tide ray of truth, nor there
Betray the twilight dungeon which he crawled from.
SALADIN.
Yes, Nathan is that man.
TEMPLAR.
I thought so too,
But what if this picked man, this chosen sage,
Were such a thorough Jew that he seeks out
For Christian children to bring up as Jews -
How then?
SALADIN.
Who says this of him?
TEMPLAR.
E'en the maid
With whom he frets me--with the hope of whom
He seemed to joy in paying me the service,
Which he would not allow me to do gratis -
This very maid is not his daughter--no,
She is a kidnapped Christian child.
SALADIN.
Whom he
Has, notwithstanding, to thy wish refused?
TEMPLAR (with vehemence).
Refused or not, I know him now. There lies
The prating tolerationist unmasked -
And I'll halloo upon this Jewish wolf,
For all his philosophical sheep's clothing,
Dogs that shall touze his hide.
SALADIN (earnestly.)
Peace, Christian!
TEMPLAR.
What!
Peace, Christian--and may Jew and Mussulman
Stickle for being Jew and Mussulman,
And must the Christian only drop the Christian?
SALADIN (more solemnly).
Peace, Christian!
TEMPLAR (calmly.)
Yes, I feel what weight of blame
Lies in that word of thine pent up. O that
I knew how Assad in my place would act.
SALADIN.
He--not much better, probably as fiery.
Who has already taught thee thus at once
Like him to bribe me with a single word?
Indeed, if all has past as thou narratest,
I scarcely can discover Nathan in it.
But Nathan is my friend, and of my friends
One must not bicker with the other. Bend -
And be directed. Move with caution. Do not
Loose on him the fanatics of thy sect.
Conceal what all thy clergy would be claiming
My hand to avenge upon him, with more show
Of right than is my wish. Be not from spite
To any Jew or Mussulman a Christian.
TEMPLAR.
Thy counsel is but on the brink of coming
Somewhat too late, thanks to the patriarch's
Bloodthirsty rage, whose instrument I shudder
To have almost become.
SALADIN.
How! how! thou wentest
Still earlier to the patriarch than to me?
TEMPLAR.
Yes, in the storm of passion, in the eddy
Of indecision--pardon--oh! thou wilt
No longer care, I fear, to find in me
One feature of thy Assad.
SALADIN.
Yes, that fear.
Methinks I know by this time from what failings
Our virtue springs--this do thou cultivate,
Those shall but little harm thee in my sight.
But go, seek Nathan, as he sought for thee,
And bring him hither: I must reconcile you.
If thou art serious about the maid -
Be calm, she shall be thine--Nathan shall feel
That without swine's flesh one may educate
A Christian child, Go. [Templar withdraws.
SITTAH (rising from the sofa).
Very strange indeed!
SALADIN.
Well, Sittah, must my Assad not have been
A gallant handsome youth?
SITTAH.
If he was thus,
And 'twasn't the templar who sat to the painter.
But how couldst thou be so forgetful, brother,
As not to ask about his parents?
SALADIN.
And
Particularly too about his mother.
Whether his mother e'er was in this country,
That is your meaning, isn't it?
SITTAH.
You run on -
SALADIN.
Oh, nothing is more possible, for Assad
'Mong handsome Christian ladies was so welcome,
To handsome Christian ladies so attached,
That once a report spread--but 'tis not pleasant
To bring that up. Let us be satisfied
That we have got him once again--have got him
With all the faults and freaks, the starts and wildness
Of his warm gentle heart--Oh, Nathan must
Give him the maid--Dost think so?
SITTAH.
Give--give up!
SALADIN.
Aye, for what right has Nathan with the girl
If he be not her father? He who saved
Her life so lately has a stronger claim
To heir their rights who gave it her at first.
SITTAH.
What therefore, Saladin, if you withdraw
The maid at once from the unrightful owner?
SALADIN,
There is no need of that.
SITTAH.
Need, not precisely;
But female curiosity inspires
Me with that counsel. There are certain men
Of whom one is irresistibly impatient
To know what women they can be in love with.
SALADIN.
Well then you may send for her.
SITTAH.
May I, brother?
SALADIN.
But hurt not Nathan, he must not imagine
That we propose by violence to part them.
SITTAH.
Be without apprehension.
SALADIN.
Fare you well,
I must make out where this Al-Hafi is.
SCENE.--The Hall in Nathan's House, as in the first scene; the
things there mentioned unpacked and displayed.
DAYA and NATHAN.
DAYA.
O how magnificent, how tasty, charming -
All such as only you could give--and where
Was this thin silver stuff with sprigs of gold
Woven? What might it cost? Yes, this is worthy
To be a wedding-garment. Not a queen
Could wish a handsomer.
NATHAN.
Why wedding-garment?
DAYA.
Perhaps of that you thought not when you bought it;
But Nathan, it must be so, must indeed.
It seems made for a bride--the pure white ground,
Emblem of innocence--the branching gold,
Emblem of wealth--Now is not it delightful?
NATHAN.
What's all this ingenuity of speech for?
Over whose wedding-gown are you displaying
Your emblematic learning? Have you found
A bridegroom?
DAYA.
I -
NATHAN.
Who then?
DAYA.
I--Gracious God!
NATHAN.
Who then? Whose wedding-garment do you speak of?
For this is all your own and no one's else.
DAYA.
Mine--is't for me and not for Recha?
NATHAN.
What
I brought for Recha is in another bale.
Come, clear it off: away with all your rubbish.
DAYA.
You tempter--No--Were they the precious things
Of the whole universe, I will not touch them
Until you promise me to seize upon
Such an occasion as heaven gives not twice.
NATHAN.
Seize upon what occasion? For what end?
DAYA.
There, do not act so strange. You must perceive
The templar loves your Recha--Give her to him;
Then will your sin, which I can hide no longer,
Be at an end. The maid will come once more
Among the Christians, will be once again
What she was born to, will be what she was;
And you, by all the benefits, for which
We cannot thank you enough, will not have heaped
More coals of fire upon your head.
NATHAN.
Again
Harping on the old string, new tuned indeed,
But so as neither to accord nor hold.
DAYA.
How so?
NATHAN.
The templar pleases me indeed,
I'd rather he than any one had Recha;
But--do have patience.
DAYA.
Patience--and is that
Not the old string you harp on?
NATHAN.
Patience, patience,
For a few days--no more. Ha! who comes here?
A friar--ask what he wants.
DAYA (going).
What can he want?
NATHAN.
Give, give before he begs. O could I tell
How to come at the templar, not betraying
The motive of my curiosity -
For if I tell it, and if my suspicion
Be groundless, I have staked the father idly.
What is the matter?
DAYA (returning).
He must speak to you.
NATHAN.
Then let him come to me. Go you meanwhile.
[Daya goes.
How gladly would I still remain my Recha's
Father. And can I not remain so, though
I cease to wear the name. To her, to her
I still shall wear it, when she once perceives
[Friar enters.
How willingly I were so. Pious brother,
What can be done to serve you?
NATHAN and FRIAR.
FRIAR.
O not much;
And yet I do rejoice to see you yet
So well.
NATHAN.
You know me then -
FRIAR.
Who knows you not?
You have impressed your name in many a hand,
And it has been in mine these many years.
NATHAN (feeling for his purse).
Here, brother, I'll refresh it.
FRIAR.
Thank you, thank you -
From poorer men I'd steal--but nothing now!
Only allow me to refresh my name
In your remembrance; for I too may boast
To mayo of old put something in your hand
Not to be scorned.
NATHAN.
Excuse me, I'm ashamed,
What was it? Claim it of me sevenfold,
I'm ready to atone for my forgetting.
FRIAR.
But before all, hear how this very day
I was reminded of the pledge I brought you.
NATHAN.
A pledge to me intrusted?
FRIAR.
Some time since,
I dwelt as hermit on the Quarantana,
Not far from Jericho, but Arab robbers
Came and broke up my cell and oratory,
And dragged me with them. Fortunately I
Escaped, and with the patriarch sought a refuge,
To beg of him some other still retreat,
Where I may serve my God in solitude
Until my latter end.
NATHAN.
I stand on coals -
Quick, my good brother, let me know what pledge
You once intrusted to me.
FRIAR.
Presently,
Good Nathan, presently. The patriarch
Has promised me a hermitage on Thabor,
As soon as one is vacant, and meanwhile
Employs me as lay-brother in the convent,
And there I am at present: and I pine
A hundred times a day for Thabor; for
The patriarch will set me about all work,
And some that I can't brook--as for example -
NATHAN
Be speedy, I beseech you.
FRIAR.
Now it happens
That some one whispered in his ear to-day,
There lives hard by a Jew, who educates
A Christian child as his own daughter.
NATHAN (startled).
How
FRIAR.
Hear me quite out. So he commissions me,
If possible to track him out this Jew:
And stormed most bitterly at the misdeed;
Which seems to him to be the very sin
Against the Holy Ghost--That is, the sin
Of all most unforgiven, most enormous;
But luckily we cannot tell exactly
What it consists in--All at once my conscience
Was roused, and it occurred to me that I
Perhaps had given occasion to this sin.
Now do not you remember a knight's squire,
Who eighteen years ago gave to your hands
A female child a few weeks old?
NATHAN.
How that?
In fact such was -
FRIAR.
Now look with heed at me,
And recollect. I was the man on horseback
Who brought the child.
NATHAN.
Was you?
FRIAR.
And he from whom
I brought it was methinks a lord of Filnek -
Leonard of Filnek.
NATHAN.
Right!
FRIAR.
Because the mother.
Died a short time before; and he, the father,
Had on a sudden to make off to Gazza,
Where the poor helpless thing could not go with him;
Therefore he sent it you--that was my message.
Did not I find you out at Darun? there
Consign it to you?
NATHAN.
Yes.
FRIAR.
It were no wonder
My memory deceived me. I have had
Many a worthy master, and this one
I served not long. He fell at Askalon -
But he was a kind lord.
NATHAN.
O yes, indeed;
For much have I to thank him, very much -
He more than once preserved me from the sword.
FRIAR.
O brave--you therefore will with double pleasure
Have taken up this daughter.
NATHAN.
You have said it.
FRIAR.
Where is she then? She is not dead, I hope -
I would not have her dead, dear pretty creature.
If no one else know anything about it
All is yet safe.
NATHAN.
Aye all!
FRIAR.
Yes, trust me, Nathan,
This is my way of thinking--if the good
That I propose to do is somehow twined
With mischief, then I let the good alone;
For we know pretty well what mischief is,
But not what's for the best. 'Twas natural
If you meant to bring up the Christian child
Right well, that you should rear it as your own;
And to have done this lovingly and truly,
For such a recompense--were horrible.
It might have been more prudent to have had it
Brought up at second hand by some good Christian
In her own faith. But your friend's orphan child
You would not then have loved. Children need love,
Were it the mute affection of a brute,
More at that age than Christianity.
There's always time enough for that--and if
The maid have but grown up before your eyes
With a sound frame and pious--she remains
Still in her maker's eye the same. For is not
Christianity all built on Judaism?
Oh, it has often vexed me, cost me tears,
That Christians will forget so often that
Our Saviour was a Jew.
NATHAN.
You, my good brother,
Shall be my advocate, when bigot hate
And hard hypocrisy shall rise upon me -
And for a deed--a deed--thou, thou shalt know it -
But take it with thee to the tomb. As yet
Has vanity ne'er tempted me to tell it
To living soul--only to thee I tell it,
To simple piety alone; for it
Alone can feel what deeds the man who trusts
In God can gain upon himself.
FRIAR.
You seem
Affected, and your eye-balls swim in water.
NATHAN.
'Twas at Darun you met me with the child;
But you will not have known that a few days
Before, the Christians murdered every Jew in Gath,
Woman and child; that among these, my wife
With seven hopeful sons were found, who all
Beneath my brother's roof which they had fled to,
Were burnt alive.
FRIAR.
Just God!
NATHAN.
And when you came,
Three nights had I in dust and ashes lain
Before my God and wept--aye, and at times
Arraigned my maker, raged, and cursed myself
And the whole world, and to Christianity
Swore unrelenting hate.
FRIAR.
Ah, I believe you.
NATHAN.
But by degrees returning reason came,
She spake with gentle voice--And yet God is,
And this was his decree--now exercise
What thou hast long imagined, and what surely
Is not more difficult to exercise
Than to imagine--if thou will it once.
I rose and called out--God, I will--I will,
So thou but aid my purpose--And behold
You was just then dismounted, and presented
To me the child wrapt in your mantle. What
You said, or I, occurs not to me now -
Thus much I recollect--I took the child,
I bore it to my couch, I kissed it, flung
Myself upon my knees and sobbed--my God,
Now have I one out of the seven again!
FRIAR.
Nathan, you are a Christian! Yes, by God
You are a Christian--never was a better.
NATHAN
Heaven bless us! What makes me to you a Christian
Makes you to me a Jew. But let us cease
To melt each other--time is nigh to act,
And though a sevenfold love had bound me soon
To this strange only girl, though the mere thought,
That I shall lose in her my seven sons
A second time distracts me--yet I will,
If providence require her at my hands,
Obey.
FRIAR.
The very thing I should advise you;
But your good genius has forestalled my thought.
NATHAN.
The first best claimant must not seek to tear
Her from me.
FRIAR.
No most surely not.
NATHAN.
And he,
That has not stronger claims than I, at least
Ought to have earlier.
FRIAR.
Certainly.
NATHAN.
By nature
And blood conferred.
FRIAR.
I mean so too.
NATHAN.
Then name
The man allied to her as brother, uncle,
Or otherwise akin, and I from him
Will not withhold her--she who was created
And was brought up to be of any house,
Of any faith, the glory--I, I hope,
That of your master and his race you knew
More than myself.
FRIAR.
I hardly think that, Nathan;
For I already told you that I passed
A short time with him.
NATHAN.
Can you tell at least
The mother's family name? She was, I think,
A Stauffen.
FRIAR.
May be--yes, in fact, you're right.
NATHAN.
Conrade of Stauffen was her brother's name -
He was a templar.
FRIAR.
I am clear it was.
But stay, I recollect I've yet a book,
'Twas my dead lord's--I drew it from his bosom,
While we were burying him at Askalon.
NATHAN.
Well!
FRIAR.
There are prayers in't, 'tis what we call
A breviary. This, thought I, may yet serve
Some Christian man--not me indeed, for I
Can't read.
NATHAN.
No matter, to the thing.
FRIAR.
This book is written at both ends quite full,
And, as I'm told, contains, in his hand-writing
About both him and her what's most material.
NATHAN.
Go, run and fetch the book--'tis fortunate;
I am ready with its weight in gold to pay it,
And thousand thanks beside--Go, run.
FRIAR.
Most gladly;
But 'tis in Arabic what he has written. [Goes.
NATHAN.
No matter--that's all one--do fetch it--Oh!
If by its means I may retain the daughter,
And purchase with it such a son-in-law;
But that's unlikely--well, chance as it may.
Who now can have been with the patriarch
To tell this tale? That I must not forget
To ask about. If 't were of Daya's?
NATHAN and DAYA
DAYA (anxiously breaks in).
Nathan!
NATHAN.
Well!
DAYA.
Only think, she was quite frightened at it,
Poor child, a message -
NATHAN.
From the patriarch?
DAYA.
No -
The sultan's sister, princess Sittah, sends.
NATHAN.
And not the patriarch?
DAYA.
Can't you hear? The princess
Has sent to see your Recha.
NATHAN.
Sent for Recha
Has Sittah sent for Recha? Well, if Sittah,
And not the patriarch, sends.
DAYA.
Why think of him?
NATHAN.
Have you heard nothing from him lately--really
Seen nothing of him--whispered nothing to him?
DAYA.
How, I to him?
NATHAN.
Where are the messengers?
DAYA.
There, just before you.
NATHAN.
I will talk with them
Out of precaution. If there's nothing lurking
Beneath this message of the patriarch's doing--[Goes.
DAYA.
And I--I've other fears. The only daughter,
As they suppose, of such a rich, rich Jew,
Would for a Mussulman be no bad thing;
I bet the templar will be choused, unless
I risk the second step, and to herself
Discover who she is. Let me for this
Employ the first short moments we're alone;
And that will be--oh, as I am going with her.
A serious hint upon the road I think
Can't be amiss--yes, now or never--yes.
ACT V.
SCENE.--A Room in the Palace; the Purses still in a pile.
SALADIN, and, soon after, several MAMALUKES.
SALADIN (as he comes in).
Here lies the money still, and no one finds
The dervis yet--he's probably got somewhere
Over a chess-board. Play would often make
The man forget himself, and why not, me.
Patience--Ha! what's the matter.
SALADIN and IBRAHIM.
IBRAHIM.
Happy news -
Joy, sultan, joy, the caravan from Cairo
Is safe arrived and brings the seven years' tribute
Of the rich Nile.
SALADIN.
Bravo, my Ibrahim,
Thou always wast a welcome messenger,
And now at length--at length--accept my thanks
For the good tidings.
IBRAHIM (waiting).
Hither with them, sultan.
SALADIN.
What art thou waiting for? Go.
IBRAHIM.
Nothing further
For my glad news?
SALADIN.
What further?
IBRAHIM.
Errand boys
Earn hire--and when their message smiles i' the telling,
The sender's hire by the receiver's bounty
Is oft outweighed. Am I to be the first
Whom Saladin at length has learnt to pay
In words? The first about whose recompense
The sultan higgled?
SALADIN.
Go, pick up a purse.
IBRAHIM.
No, not now--you might give them all away
SALADIN.
All--hold, man. Here, come hither, take these two -
And is he really going--shall he conquer
Me then in generosity? for surely
'Tis harder for this fellow to refuse
Than 'tis for me to give. Here, Ibrahim -
Shall I be tempted, just before my exit,
To be a different man--small Saladin
Not die like Saladin, then wherefore live so?
ABDALLAH and SALADIN.
ABDALLAH.
Hail, Sultan!
SALADIN.
If thou comest to inform me
That the whole convoy is arrived from Egypt,
I know it already.
ABDALLAH.
Do I come too late?
SALADIN.
Too late, and why too late? There for thy tidings
Pick up a purse or two.
ABDALLAH.
Does that make three?
SALADIN.
So thou wouldst reckon--well, well, take them, take them.
ABDALLAH.
A third will yet be here if he be able.
SALADIN.
How so?
ABDALLAH.
He may perhaps have broke his neck.
We three, as soon as certain of the coming
Of the rich caravan, each crossed our horses,
And galloped hitherward. The foremost fell,
Then I was foremost, and continued so
Into the city, but sly Ibrahim,
Who knows the streets -
SALADIN.
But he that fell, go, seek him.
ABDALLAH.
That will I quickly--if he lives, the half
Of what I've got is his. [Goes.
SALADIN.
What a fine fellow!
And who can boast such mamalukes as these;
And is it not allowed me to imagine
That my example helped to form them. Hence
With the vile thought at last to turn another.
A third COURIER.
Sultan -
SALADIN.
Was't thou who fell?
COURIER.
No, I've to tell thee
That Emir Mansor, who conducts the convoy,
Alights.
SALADIN.
O bring him to me--Ah, he's there -
Be welcome, Emir. What has happened to thee?
For we have long expected thee.
SALADIN and EMIR.
EMIR (after the wont obeisance).
This letter
Will show, that, in Thebais, discontents
Required thy Abulkassem's sabred hand,
Ere we could march. Since that, our progress, sultan,
My zeal has sped most anxiously.
SALADIN.
I trust thee -
But my good Mansor take without delay -
Thou art not loth to go further--fresh protection,
And with the treasure on to Libanon;
The greater part at least I have to lodge
With my old father.
EMIR.
O, most willingly.
SALADIN.
And take not a slight escort. Libanon
Is far from quiet, as thou wilt have heard;
The templars stir afresh, be therefore cautious.
Come, I must see thy troop, and give the orders.
[To a slave.
Say I shall be with Sittah when I've finished.
SCENE--A Place of Palms.
The TEMPLAR walking to and fro.
TEMPLAR.
Into this house I go not--sure at last
He'll show himself--once, once they used to see me
So instantly, so gladly--time will come
When he'll send out most civilly to beg me
Not to pace up and down before his door.
Psha--and yet I'm a little nettled too;
And what has thus embittered me against him?
He answered yes. He has refused me nothing
As yet. And Saladin has undertaken
To bring him round. And does the Christian nestle
Deeper in me than the Jew lurks in him?
Who, who can justly estimate himself?
How comes it else that I should grudge him so
The little booty that he took such pains
To rob the Christians of? A theft, no less
Than such a creature tho'--but whose, whose creature?
Sure not the slave's who floated the mere block
On to life's barren strand, and then ran off;
But his the artist's, whose fine fancy moulded
Upon the unowned block a godlike form,
Whose chisel graved it there. Recha's true father,
Spite of the Christian who begot her, is,
Must ever be, the Jew. Alas, were I
To fancy her a simple Christian wench,
And without all that which the Jew has given,
Which only such a Jew could have bestowed -
Speak out my heart, what had she that would please thee?
No, nothing! Little! For her very smile
Shrinks to a pretty twisting of the muscles -
Be that, which makes her smile, supposed unworthy
Of all the charms in ambush on her lips?
No, not her very smile--I've seen sweet smiles
Spent on conceit, on foppery, on slander,
On flatterers, on wicked wooers spent,
And did they charm me then? then wake the wish
To flutter out a life beneath their sunshine?
Indeed not--Yet I'm angry with the man
Who alone gave this higher value to her.
How this, and why? Do I deserve the taunt
With which I was dismissed by Saladin?
'Tis bad enough that Saladin should think so;
How little, how contemptible must I
Then have appeared to him--all for a girl.
Conrade, this will not do--back, back--And if
Daya to boot had prated matter to me
Not easy to be proved--At last he's coming,
Engaged in earnest converse--and with whom?
My friar in Nathan's house! then he knows all -
Perhaps has to the patriarch been betrayed.
O Conrade, what vile mischiefs thou hast brooded
Out of thy cross-grained head, that thus one spark
Of that same passion, love, can set so much
O' 'th' brain in flame? Quick, then, determine, wretch,
What shalt thou say or do? Step back a moment
And see if this good friar will please to quit him.
NATHAN and the FRIAR come together out of Nathan's house.
NATHAN.
Once more, good brother, thanks.
FRIAR.
The like to you.
NATHAN.
To me, and why; because I'm obstinate -
Would force upon you what you have no use for?
FRIAR.
The book besides was none of mine. Indeed
It must at any rate belong to th' daughter;
It is her whole, her only patrimony -
Save she has you. God grant you ne'er have reason
To sorrow for the much you've done for her.
NATHAN.
How should I? that can never be; fear nothing.
FRIAR.
Patriarchs and templars -
NATHAN,
Have not in their power
Evil enough to make me e'er repent.
And then--But are you really well assured
It is a templar who eggs on your patriarch?
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