arrior was closing in
gloom--wife, child, health, money, almost reputation, gone: the
nemesis of genius.

At one point a lady strove to concentrate attention upon herself by
accusing herself of faults of character. Even Maimon understood she
was angling for compliments. But Mendelssohn gravely bade her mend her
faults, and Maimon saw Lessing's harassed eyes light up for the first
time with a gleam of humor. Then the poet, as if roused to
recollection, pulled out a paper, "I almost forgot to give you back
Kant's letter," he said. "You are indeed to be congratulated."

Mendelssohn blushed like a boy, and made a snatch at the letter, but
Lessing jestingly insisted on reading it to the company.

"I consider that in your _Jerusalem_ you have succeeded in combining
our religion with such a degree of freedom of conscience, as was never
imagined possible, and of which no other faith can boast. You have at
the same time so thoroughly and so clearly demonstrated the necessity
of unlimited liberty of conscience, that ultimately our Church will
also be led to reflect how it should remove from its midst everything
that disturbs and oppresses conscience, which will finally unite all
men in their view of the essential points of religion."

There was an approving murmur throughout the company. "Such a letter
would compensate me for many more annoyances than my works have
brought me," said Mendelssohn. "And to think," he added laughingly,
"that I once beat Kant in a prize competition. A proof of the power of
lucid expression over profound thought. And that I owe to your
stimulus, Lessing."

The poet made a grimace. "You accuse me of stimulating
superficiality!"

There was a laugh.

"Nay, I meant you have torn away the thorns from the roses of
philosophy! If Kant would only write like you--"

"He might understand himself," flashed the beautiful Henrietta Herz.

"And lose his disciples," added her husband. "That is really, Herr
Mendelssohn, why we pious Jews are so angry with your German
translation of the Bible--you make the Bible intelligible."

"Yes, they have done their best to distort it," sighed Mendelssohn.
"But the fury my translation arouses among the so-called wise men of
the day, is the best proof of its necessity. When I first meditated
producing a plain Bible in good German, I had only the needs of my own
children at heart, then I allowed myself to be persuaded it might serve
the multitude, now I see it is the Ra