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science, in spite of her superstitious zeal, she at last imparts the news,

"that Recha is no jewess, but a christian."

To this piece of confidence, the knight's reply is characteristic. In spite of the value of the intelligence, he cannot conceal his contempt for the motive which led his informant to break her trust:

"I congratulate you,

'twas a hard labour, but 'tis out at last;
go on with undiminished zeal, and people
heaven, when no longer fit to people earth."

In spite of this generous indignation, he does not fail to avail himself of the knowledge. Daya's communication seems to afford a clue to the Jew's behaviour. The knight imagines that Nathan was so wedded to his superstition

"was such a thoro' jew, that he sought out
for christian children to bring up as jews,”-

and, therefore, to compel him to consent,

"the project strikes him short and good,
to hold the knife to his throat,"

till he gave up his stolen daughter to a husband of her own choice and religion. With this intention he applies to Athanasios, the patriarch of Palestine. He had had some previous communication with the holy father on a subject connected with church interests.

In the beginning of the story, we omitted to state the circumstance to which the captive Templar owed his life. It was the usual custom of the Mussulmen, to cut the throats of those redoubtable soldier-monks, whenever they succeeded in catching one; and such would have been our Templar's fate, had not Saladin seen him when the Mamaluke's sabre was ready to descend upon his neck, and, struck by his resemblance to Assad, a dearly-beloved, lost brother, saved him from the fatal blow. Since that time, the knight had been taken no further notice of; and though delivered from immediate death, was left to wander near Jerusalem, with nothing to subsist upon but wild dates, and no place of shelter but the palm-grove. In this condition the Patriarch had proposed to him, by means of brother Bonafides, to convey a letter to King Philip, containing

instructions as to the state of the fortifications of the town, and the details of a plot for assassinating Saladin. The Templar, however, could not be persuaded to view the interests of religion in the same light as the priest. He remembered that

Saladin had saved his life, and refused to do the holy deed. The negociations, however, had brought him acquainted with the Patriarch, and he proposed to avail himself of the holy father in furthering his design, of compelling Nathan to give up his adopted daughter.

According to the terms of the capitulation of Jerusalem, Saladin had sworn to protect the Christian Church in all the privileges and doctrines which appertained to the faith. Now, amongst other useful ordinances, it had been decreed that if a Jew seduced a Christian to apostacy, he should die by fire. With the intention of ascertaining this, the Templar applies to the Patriarch, and puts the hypothetical case of a Jew educating a Christian child in any other than the Christian faith. The Patriarch declares it to come within the law. Although the knight had been cautious to put the case problematically, and not to endanger Nathan's safety, the Patriarch is struck by the singularity of the question, and sets himself diligently to work, to find out some Jew in Jerusalem to whom the Templar's case would apply; in the devout hope of finding another job for brother Bonafides.'

We must now turn for a moment to another part of the story. Saladin, the Sultan, is put to his wit's end for lack of funds to carry on the war, and means of indulging in a preposterous taste for charity; which, if common in kings, would beggar their subjects more rapidly than any of the more usual vices to which princes are apt to be addicted. Every beggar was er officio of his household; every pilgrim received his alms; every impudent petitioner obtained his prayer; and the magnanimous Sultan carried his notions of nerosity so far, as to repay the avant-couriers, who bring the earliest intelligence of news, with presents of a purse or two of gold. It never, of course, occurs to him, that to squander his resources in this manner (besides Malthus and the poorlaws) on the vilest and most prodigal of his subjects, was in fact nothing more

"than to oppress mankind by hundred thousands,
to squeeze, grind, plunder, butcher, and torment,
and act philanthropy to individuals:"-

ge

No; Saladin was of the high romantic breed, and thought money the vilest of things, money-makers the vilest of animals, and condemned all the most effective virtues as little more than

prudent vices; with him, poverty and wealth were convertible

terms

"A cloak, a horse, a sabre, and a God!

What needs he else?"

In spite, however, of these maxims, and as a consequence of these proceedings, Saladin was constantly out at elbows; and at the time when our tale commences, he was peculiarly embarrassed by the failure of the seven years' tribute from Egypt. Al-Hafi, his treasurer, was a friend of Nathan's. He had frequently indulged in eulogiums on the wise and virtuous Jew, before Saladin and his sister. In this pressing moment, the latter reminds Al-Hafi of his friend; repeats the praises he had wont to bestow on him so lavishly-for instance, in recounting with enthusiasm

"how nobly Nathan

bestowed what he esteemed it not a meanness,
by prudent industry t' have justly earned-
how free from prejudice his lofty soul-
his heart to every virtue how unlocked-
with every lovely feeling how familiar—”

and concludes, by urging the treasurer to contract for an immediate loan with the Rothschild of Jerusalem. To cut the matter short, Nathan is introduced to the Sultan, who entertains him with a disquisition on the comparative merits of the three revelations the Jewish, Christian, and Mahometan-and ends by appointing him his defterdar, or keeper of the privy purse. Saladin was too poor to give him a salary; and his real business was to supply money for the Sultan's necessities. Amongst the plate and jewels transferred from Nathan's house to the Sultan's palace for this purpose, Sittah, his sister, discovers a small portrait-the portrait of Leonard of Filnek, the Jew's friend and Recha's father. She shews it to Saladin, who recognizes in it the likeness of his brother Assad; but we will give it in his own words, which we think extremely beautiful:

"Ha! What, my brother?

'Tis he, 'tis he, was he,-wus he, alas!
thou dear brave youth, and lost to me so early;
what would I not with thee and at thy side
have undertaken? Let me have the portrait,
I recollect it now again; he gave it
unto thy elder sister, to his Lilah,

that morning that she would not part with him,
but clasp'd him so in tears. It was the last
morning that he rode out; and I-I let him
ride unattended. Lilah died for grief,
and never could forgive me that I let him
then ride alone. He came not back."

The picture suggests the recollection of the young Templar, whose life he had spared, from his imagined resemblance to Assad. The Templar is sent for to the palace, and the Sultan is more than ever struck by the likeness of his person and the similarity of his voice and temper.

The plot now tends rapidly to its close. A friar, whom the Patriarch had commissioned to inquire into Nathan's connexion with Recha, in hopes of realizing in him the suspicions excited by the Templar's queries, turns out to be the very squire who had delivered Recha into his hands, eighteen years before. On inquiry, the friar remembers him of a certain Persian book, which he drew from his master's bosom, whilst assisting in his burial at Askalon-for there it was, that the supposed Leonard of Filnek lost his life. Nathan hastens to the palace with his prize; and finds the Templar and Recha already there. Nathan's aversion to their marriage is now explained: they are both children of Leonard of Filnek-and Leonard himself was Assad, the Sultan's brother.

The materials of a tragedy are undoubtedly contained in this story. But Nathan the Wise is no tragedy. The translator has called it an argumentative drama; and this seems the most appropriate name. Although it is said to have become, in a curtailed shape-a good office which it owes to Schiller-a favourite acting play in Germany, we confess we see but little partaking of the dramatic character in its present form. It is rather a poetical dialogue, than a play; and possesses not one of the qualities which belong to the legitimate drama.

It has not been written with a view to affect the passions. It consists of dissertation, and not dialogue; of description, and not action. Its principal object seems to be, to inculcate mutual indulgence between religious sects. This is, no doubt, a laudable design; and one of far greater moment than is usually contemplated by writers for the stage. It abounds with eloquent passages and ingenious disquisitions; but the reader who sits down to it in the expectation of the common objects of dramatic interest, will not fail to meet with disappointment.

The play opens with Nathan's return. The first scene contains the interview with his daughter, and the treasurer Al

Hafi. In the next, the friar, Bonafides, communicates to the Templar the Patriarch's project for betraying the town, and assassinating Saladin. This, the reader will remember, was the subject of his letter to King Philip, which he proposes to send by the Templar's hand. The knight asks

66 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 storm'd,

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—

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

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