Nathan, the Wise. A dramatic poem of five acts

Preface

A genuine seer and poet is the common property of all nations. His ideas, thoughts, words and doctrines ought, especially in our own progressive age, be known to all.

And such a one was Gotthold Epheaim Lessing, who was born in 1729, in the city of Kamenz, in the Saxonian Oberlausitz (Upper Lusatia) where his father was officiating as first Evangelical Minister, and died in the city of Braunschweig (Brunswick) on the 15th of February, 1781. His Mends erected to him a monument in the Library Square, in the city of "Wolfenbuetel ; but the best one he erected to himself in his immortal works.

It is well acknowledged by his countrymen, that he was the reformer of the German National Literature and spiritual life generally, a fine and acute critic, a poet well versed in ii. PREFACE.

the classical as well as in modern languages, and thoroughly acquainted with the ancient sources of theology.

He was a burning and shining light of such rare power and splendor, that it will warm the human heart and enlighten the spirit whereever a glimpse of it will be visible. He belongs, therefore, not to a particular age and nation, but to the whole human family of the present and future.

He took to himself the whole armor of God, tfuth combined with tolerance, pressed forward manfully, and tried to lead to the deep springs of universal religion, fed ever from the celestial heights of the Divine nature, whence flows that mighty river of God, full of living water, where all mankind may drink perennial supply. Very ingeniously remarked Dr. Gabriel Kiesser (Riesser's Gesammelte Schriften, vol. iv. p. 1-5-30) : " There are names, the sounds of which embody the most noble endeavors of humanity, so that they impart to our souls more than any elaborate speech can ever do. The name of a great man animates us by an idea, the expression of which was his personality and the representation of it was his life:

PREFACE. iii.

and works. All, that speech is too poor to express in distinct terms and which can scarcely be stammered in abstruse abstractions, sonnds in snch a name lively and vigorously in our souls. The immortality of every great man enriches his native tongue with a word, significant and instructive, as there cannot be found any one like that in the whole treasure of the language. The recollection of its master spirits is the richest inheritance of every people's language. All humanity draws from the same source the description of its deepest emotions. As science designates stars by names, thus history of mankind calls after its great men the shining epochs and turns of events and the most significant directions. Their memory is the most holy legacy of the past, and an elevating guaranty of the future. Their names, like healing magic words, act on the mind of him who is dejected by the suffering of the present. They awake again the confidence in progress and in the future humanity, should it begin to waver on acc<" of the scene of a momentary standstill or i rogression. Tims means the name Lessin^ culture of humanity, philanthropy, enlighteniv. PREFACE.

ment, civil and religious liberty, war against intolerance, religious hate and the oppression of reason. Every heart that beats higher in great hope for humanity by such ideas, feeling a deep interest in the struggles of the present, and being painfully agitated by the recollection of the troubles of the past, it is warmed and reanimated by the deep breath of the name Lessing. The offended feeling is cheered up and consoled, the enfeebled sense revels with gladness in the breathing of a refreshing air, it gains new strength to execute works of humanity ; it heard a word of comfort and promise and is strengthened anew in faith and trust. But there is still a much closer connection which agitates our heart when mentioning his name. Wherever was the deepest darkness, there let Lessing- shine the sun of his spirit the brightest and most brilliantly ; wherever the hate raged fearfully and was most destructive since many centuries, there his philanthropy exercised most zealously and gloriously its sanative power. His great heart embraced all humanity with an inexhaustible love ; his unflinching courage and his never-failing intellectual power were ever ready to light against

PREFACE. t.

every prejudice, against every falsehood, and against every unjust hatred. —

A glance on Lessing's grand poem, on his Nathan the Wise, teaches us how distant Lessing's muse has been from the censured prejudices. This drama was devoted to toleration, liberty of conscience and love of humanity ; hatred and fanaticism are the blind demons with which wisdom and love grapple and overcome them gloriously. There was no lack of critics who on account of an adopted theory did not like to look on Nathan as a poetical piece ; because, as they pleased to express themselves, it has a didactical tendency. As if it were unbecoming a poet to teach and cultivate! But there is at the bottom a misunderstanding of a peculiar kind. It is not the teaching, but the manner and form of expressing it can only become detrimental to poetry.

Nature also teaches ; but she instructs without any intention to do so and to make it visible before our eyes ; she teaches, when she is creating, forming and preserving. We may demand of the poet, that he shall imitate the mysterious charm of nature as much as possivi. PREFACE.

ble, that lie shall attract and win onr hearts by living" creations of his imagination, and that he shall instruct us unperceivingly while we are delighted with a lovely contemplation. Therefore, we can then reproach the poet, and only then, if the characters represented by him leave us without any sympathy, and, instead of a lively stimulating of our feelings, which we expect first of all, and indirectly, we perceive only a cold intention of instructing us. But he whose warm sympathy is not aroused by the characters in Lessixg's Nathan; he whose tolerance and love are not gained by the representatives of the three religions, which they teach by their personalities, he is not capable of any poetical sympathy, and he may deplore his own poor nature, if he cannot detect any other intention except to impart sublime principles to his revolting consciousness. A spirit like Lessestg-'s could not desist from his endeavors in any branch of his activity to instruct and to promote light and knowledge, and we may assume the idea, that he would have renounced poetry altogether, had its lawi really demanded of him such a desistance. But true poetry forbids as little to

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instruct as it forbids to love. But instruction as little as love, wisdom as little as emotion should replace the productive power of invention and language ; they must satisfy the requirements of the poetical form of which they make use of, as they do in the highest degree in Lessing's poem.

The particular circumstance, however, that Lessestg put the luminous point of this poem in the character of a Jew which gave much offence to the intolerance of his cotemporaries as well as to that of latter generations, dare not be passed over in silence. It must be admitted, that herein the sublime idea of humanity and poetical justice was conceived. What nobler task can poetry as well as philanthropy assign to themselves, than that to heal the most painful wounds which hatred has inflicted, and to carry the. light of human right and loving acknowledgement into the deepest night of a misjudging hard-heartedness and blinded prejudice ?

Lessing's muse has therefore selected Judaism for the corner-stone of the temple of reconciliation and philanthropy ; because it suffered the longest and most severely by oppresviii. PREFACE.

sion, hatred and persecution. The poet let his Jew be the least and his Christian the most biased by his own prejudice. From the beginning of his poem he let shine in the first the sentiment of a pure humanity, which high degree the latter reaches after many errors and inward struggles. We will neither use this creation of such a deep, human and poetical mind for accusations nor for a presumptuous arrogance. We will rather in like manner perceive in both characters, in the one who appears accomplished before us as well as in the one who tries to gain perfection before our face such pictures of unattained ideals which make us ashamed and which the poet wanted to show to the different religious sects."

I have translated into English " Nathan, the Wise" one of the master-pieces of this author, in order to make my fellow-citizens familiar with the grand ideas of this illustrious foreigner. .It is not here the place to discuss at large as to the comparative merit of prose and metrical translation ; but I will simply state the reason why I have translated this masterpiece of Lessino in prose. I fully agree with the learned correspondent of the " Examiner"

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who says : " No poetical translation can give the rhythm and rhyme of the original ; it can only substitute the rythm and rhyme of the translator ; and for the sake of this substitute, we must renounce some portion of the original sense, and nearly all the expressions ; whereas, by a prose translation, we can arrive perfectly at the thoughts, and very nearly at the words of the original."

Whether I have succeeded to taste the original to the core, and tried to preserve the light and shade of the poetical picture, by adequate expressions, so that f my English version of " Nathan the Wise " be called a right translation, I leave it to the kind judgment of impartial critics.

Dr. ISIDOK KALISCH.

CHARACTERS.

Sultan Saladin.

Sittah, his Sister.

Nathan, a rich Jew dwelling in Jerusalem.

Recha, his adopted daughter.

Daja, a Christian, living in the house of the Jew

as a companion of Recha.

A Young Templar.

A Dervise.

The Patriarch of Jerusalem.

A Lay-Brother.

An Emir and several Mamelukes in the service of Saladin .

■ Scene — Jerusalem in Palestine.

Scene 1. — A vestibule in Nathan's house

Enter Nathan returning from a trip. Daja hastening to

meet him.

Daja. That is he ! Nathan — God be praised for ever, that he has returned at last.

Nat. Yes, Daja ! God be praised ! But why do you say at last? Did I intend, or could I return earlier ? The way I had to travel from Babylon to Jerusalem, turning sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left is about two hundred leagues, and to collect accounts is surely not a business going on so well that it were to be finished speedily.

Daja. Oh, Nathan ! how very wretched could you have been rendered here in the meantime ! Your house —

Nat. "Was on fire. I was told so already. May God grant that I am now informed of all.

Daja. And had like to be burnt to the ground.

Nat. Well, Daja, we had built then for us a new one, and still more convenient.

Daja. Very true !— But Recha was within a hair's breadth of being burnt.

Nat. Burnt ? Who ? My Recha ? She ? I did not hear that. Now, then ! I had no need of a house any more. Burnt within a hair's breadth ! Ho ! She is indeed ! Is actually burnt ! Speak it out ! Out with it ! Kill me, and torture me not any longer. Yes, she is burnt to death.

Daja. And if she were, would you learn that from me?

Nat. Now, why do you terrify me? Oh, Recha, oh my Recha !

Daja, Yours ! — Your Recha ?

Nat. If I ever had to abandon the habit to call that child my child !

Daja. Do you call all that you possess yours with just as much legality ?

Nat. Nothing I do with, more right than that All else I possess has fallen to my share by nature and fortune. For this property alone I am indebted to virtue.

Daja. Oh, Nathan ! how dear you make me pay for your benignity ! If goodness exercised with such an intention can still be called so.

Nat. With such an intention ? With what ?

Daja. My conscience

Nat. Daja, let me tell you before all.

Daja. My conscience I say. . . .

Nat. What a beautiful stuff I bought for you in Babylon. So rich, and so tastefully rich ! I hardly bring a finer one for Eecha.

Daja. What boots it? For I tell you my conscience cannot be silenced any longer.

Nat. I would like very much to see how you are pleased with the bracelets, ear-rings, ring and chain, which I purchased for you in Damascus.

Daja. Now, so are you ! If you can only favor with gifts ! only make presents !

Nat. Take them so cheerfully as I give them to you ; — and be silent !

Daja. Nathan, who is doubting, that you are not the very personification of honesty and generosity ? and yet ?

Nat. Yet ! I am but a Jew. Is it not that you meant to say ?

Daja. What I wished to say, you know it better.

Nat. Well, keep silence !

Daja. I will not say a word. All that is censurable by this before God which I cannot hinder nor alter — cannot — fall upon you.

Nat. Fall upon my head ! But where is she ? Where does she tarry so long ? Daja, if you deceive me ! Does she know that I arrived ?

Daja. I ask you that ! Every nerve of her trembles still with terror, and her imagination is still painting fire to all its paintings. In sleep her spirit is awake, and sleeps when awake. Now less than a beast, then more than an angel.

Nat. Poor child ! What are we men !

Daja. This morning she was lying long, with closed eyes, and was like death. She sprang up suddenly and cried hark I hark ! There, the camels of my father, are coming ! Listen ! his very voice, sweet and gentle ! Her eyes grew dim once again, and her head supported on her arm that was withdrawn, fell back upon the pillow. I ran through the gate ! And lo ! there you are coming ! Indeed ! you are coming What wonder? Her whole soul was all the time but with you — and him.

Nat. And him ? with what him ?

Daja. With him who saved her from the fire.

Nat. Who was that ? Who ? Where is he ? Who saved to me my Recha ? Who ?

Daja. A young Templar who was brought captive a few days previous, and was pardoned by Saladin.

Nat. How ? A Templar whom Sultan Saladin gave quarter ? Could Recha not be rescued by a lesser miracle ? Oh, Grod !

Daja. And but for him, who risked bravely again his unexpected prize, it were all over with her.

Nat. Where is he, Daja, this generous man ? Where is he ? Lead me to him to throw myself at his feet You gave him in the first place the treasures I left to you ? You gave him all ? you promised more ? far more ?

Daja. How could we ?

Nat. You did not ? No ?

Daja. He came, and nobody knows from whence. He went and nobody knows whither. Having been an utter stranger in the house, he was only guided by his ear and with an unfolded cloak he forced his way boldly through smoke and flames, to the voice which cried to us for help. We had already given him up as lost when out of smoke and flames he suddenly stood before us carrying her aloft in his strong arm. Cold and untouched by the loud acclamations of our joy and thanks, he put down his booty, squeezed through the crowd and disappeared.

Nat. Not forever, I hope.

Daja. We saw him walking in the first clays afterwards up and down under the palm-trees which shade the sepulchre of the Ascended. I approached him with joy, thanked, eulogized, bade and conjured him, — to see but once more the pious creature that cannot rest until she cried out her thanks at his feet

Nat. Well?

Daja. In vain ! He remained deaf to our entreaties, and poured out such sarcasm especially upon me

Nat. Until frightened away by this. . .

Daja. Not at all ! I accosted him again every day and suffered myself to be scorned daily anew. What did I not endure from him ? What would I not bear still patiently from him ? But it is very long, that he does not come any more to resort to the palm-trees which overshadow the grave of our Ascended, and nobody knows what has become of him. You are amazed ? You are musing ?

Nat. I think it over what an impression this must have made upon a spirit like Kecha's, to find to be thus despised by him, whom one is forced to esteem so highly ; to be repulsed in such a degree, and yet to be so attracted ! Heart and head must indeed quarrel with each other very long, whether misanthropy or melancholy shall be victorious. None of them will often triumph, and the imagination which interferes in the dispute makes enthusiasts by whom the head must now play the heart and then the heart play the head. Bad exchange. The latter, if I do not mistake, Recha, is her case. She gives herself up to wild nights of imagination.

Daja. But she does it so piously and so lovely.

Nat.. It is nevertheless roving !

Daja. There is especially one vagary, if you please, very dear to her. Her Templar was no terrestial man, nor of this earthly world, but one of the angels, to the protection of whom her little heart readily believed to be intrusted from infancy, who was hitherto wrapped in a cloud, hovering around her, even in the fire, and came forth now as a Templar. Do not smile ! Who knows ? And if smile you must, let her at least one delusion upon which Jew,

Christian, and Mohammedan agree — such a sweet error !

Nat. It is also sweet to me ! Go my dear Daja, go, look how she is ; whether I can see her. I will search then for the surly humorous guardian angel. And if he be pleased to walk still in this world among us, if he likes to play chivalry so unmannerly I shall find him surely, and bring him with me to this place.

Daja. You undertake very much.

Nat. Should then sweet illusion give way to the sweeter truth, for believe me, Daja, a man is always more agreeable to men than an angel. — You will not be angry with me in curing the angelic enthusiast ?

Daja. You are so good, and at the same time so bad ! I go ! but lo ! there she is coming herself.

Scene II. — Recha and the Former

Rech. Are you entirely here, my father? I thought you had but sent on your voice,

Where do you tarry so long ? What mountains, deserts and rivers separate us still from each other? You are breathing close by the same wall with her, and yet you hurry not to embrace your Eecha ? Poor Recha, who was burnt in the meantime ! — Almost, well nigh was burnt, yes, but almost. Shudder not ! It is a horrible death to be burnt. Oh !

Nat. My child ! my darling child !

Rech. You had to take your voyage over the Euphrates, Tigris, Jordan; over — who knows all the rivers ? How often did I tremble for your life before the fire came so near me, but now it seems to me, to die by water is refreshment, comfort, deliverance. You are, however, not drowned, and I am not burnt. Now let us rejoice and praise God the Almighty ! He, he carried you and the boat upon the wings of his invisible angels over the faithless streams. He, he beckoned to my angel, that he shall visibly carry me on his white wings through the fire.

.Nat. (White wings ! Yes, yes ! The extended white cloak of the Templar.)

Eech. He visibly carried me, yes, visibly through the fire, blown away by his wings. — I have seen now an angel from face to face ; and my angel.

Nat. Eecha were deserving it, and she would not behold more beauty in him than he could in her.

Eech. (smilingly) Whom are you flattering, my father? Whom? The angel or yourself ?

Nat. But if only a man — a man as nature presents him daily had rendered you the service, he must be for you an angel. He must and would be so.

Eech. Not such an angel ! No ! A real one ! It was surely a real one ! — Did not you yourself teach me the possibility, that there are angels, and that God can also work miracles for those who love him ? Why, I love him.

Nat. And he loves you and performs miracles for you' and the like hourly. Yes, he wrought them for you from all eternity.

Eech. That I like to hear.

Nat. How ? If a real Templar saved you, shall it therefore be much less a wonder because it sounds 'natural and common? It is the greatest of all miracles, that true and real wonders can become so common to us in every day life. Without this general wonder has hardly any reflecting mind, called ever that a wonder which only children call so who are staring at the most unusual or marvelous things.

Daja. (To Nathan) Will you burst by such subtilities the brains of her, that were already overstrained ?

Nat. Let me alone ! Were it not wonder enough to my Recha that a man saved her who had first to be saved himself by not an insignificant wonder ? Yes ! it is highly marvelous ! For who has ever heard before, that Saladin spared the life of a Templar ? That a Templar ever wished or hoped to be spared by him ? That he ever offered to him anything more for freedom than a leather belt dragging his irons, and at most his poinard ?

Rech. That makes an inference for me, my father. — Therefore he was not a Templar, but appeared only to be so. If a captured Templar comes never to the city of Jerusalem but to a certain death ; if such a one is never moving freely in Jerusalem, how could a real Templar save me voluntarily by night?

Nat. Oh, how sensible ! Now, Daja, begin to speak. I have the report from you, that he was sent as a prisoner hither. It is no doubt, that you know more about it.

Daja. Well, yes. Indeed, they say so ; but it is also rumored, that Saladin pardoned him on account of the resemblance between him and one of his brothers who was most endeared to him. But as twenty odd years passed away, since that brother died — his name was I do not know what, he died — I do not know where — it sounds very incredible, that the whole account is worth nothing.

Nat. Eh ! Daja ! "Wherefore is this so incredible ? Surely not, as it is here the case, in order to believe a thing that is still more incredible ? Why, could not Saladin, who loves all his brothers and sisters, be especial attached to one of them, when young, more affectionately? Does it not happen that two faces resemble one another ? Is an old time impression lost ? Does the same not work any more the same % Since when ? Wherein lies here the incredible thing? Ah, indeed, ingenious Daja ! It would not be any wonder for you any more, and only your wonder requi . . . . . . deserve, I mean to say, full credit !

Daja. You are mocking.

Nat. Because you rail at me. But, Recha, even then, your deliverance remains still a miracle that is only possible for Him who likes to govern by the weakest threads, the firmest resolutions and indomitable schemes of kings, his play, if not his raillery.

Rech. My father ! My father, if I am mistaken, you know, I do not err on purpose.

Nat. You are rather quite ready to listen to reason. Look here, a forehead so or so curved ; the ridge of the nose so or so arched ; eye brows coiling themselves so round a sharp edge or flat bone ; a line, a flexure, an angle of an eye or mouth, a wrinkle, a mole, a nothing upon the face of a wild European — and you are rescued from a fire in Asia ! Is that no miracle, you wonder-seeking people ? Why do you trouble even an angel ?

Daja. Nathan, if I may speak, what harm would it be in thinking of having been rather saved by an angel than by a man ? Does not one feel himself much nearer to the first incomprehensible cause of his deliverance ?

Nat. Pride ! and nothing but pride ! The iron pot likes to be taken out of the fire with silver pincers to think itself a pot of silver. Pooh ! you ask and what harm does it ? What harm it does ? What boots it ? may I ask you in return ; — for your idea " to feel one's self much nearer to God," is nonsense or blasphemy. — But it is injurious, yes it is pernicious, indeed. — Come, and listen to me. — Is it not so ? Do not you wish both, and especially you, to return many great services to the being that saved your life, be it an angel or a man ? Is it not so ? Now, what favors, nay, what great services can you render to an angel ? You may thank him, and sighing pray to him ; you may be enchanted with him ; you can fast on the day consecrated to him and distribute alms. All this is nothing. Because it seems to me, that you yourself and your neighbor would gain by this far more than he. He will not grow fat by your fasting, nor rich by your charity, nor more magnificent by your transport, and not mightier by your confidence. Is it not so ? But a man —

Daja. Indeed ! A man would have given us far more opportunity to perform something for him. And God knows, that we were quite ready to do so. But he did not want, yes, he did not need anything at all. He was contented in and with himself, as only angels are and angels can be.

Rech. Finally as he then disappeared. . .

1ST at. Disappeared ? What do you mean by that ? He was not to be seen anymore under the palm-trees ? How ? Or did you already search for him any where else ?

Daja. We did not

Nat. No ? You did not. Daja ? Now look here, what harm that can do ! Cruel enthusiasts If this angel fell now sick!

Rech. Sick!

Daja. He is not sick, I hope.

Rech. What a cold tremor takes hold of me ! — Daja, my forehead usually so warm, feel it ! is suddenly like ice.

Nat. He is a Franconian, not acclimated ; he is young, unaccustomed to the hard work of his profession to privation and watching.

Rech. Sick ! sick !

Daja. What may be possible, is Nathan merely guessing.

Nat. Now there he lies, having neither a friend nor money to engage attendants.

Eech. Ah, my father !

Nat. There he is lingering without having any nursing, advice and consolation, a prey to pains and death !

Eech. Where ? Where ?

Nat. He, enough it was a man, who rushed into the fire for one he never knew nOr ever saw

Daja. Nathan, act cautiously towards her.

Nat. He, who did not like to get acquainted with her nor to see her again, that she may not thank him

Daja. Spare her, Nathan !

Nat. He did not want to see her any more, except he should rescue her a second time. — For certainty it was a man.

Daja. Leave off speaking and look !

Nat. Dying he has nothing to refresh himself but the consciousness of that deed !

Daja. Stop ! you kill her !

Nat. And you have killed him. Thus you might have killed him. Eecha ! Kecha ! It is medicine and not poison which I administer you. He lives ! Come to yourself again ! He is not sick, not sick at all.

Eech. Is it sure ? Not dead ? not sick ?

Nat. Certainly, not dead ! For God rewards still here the good that was performed here. "Co ! But do you comprehend how much easier it is to give one's self up to a devout flight of imagination than to act good ? How the weakest man likes to fall into a pious enthu siasm, although he is sometimes not clearly conscious of his aim — in order to be excused fromdoing good !