It is as difficult to stifle the resentment of an injury at first, as it is to preserve the feeling after a certain length of time.

It is weakness which makes us hate an enemy and wish to be revenged, and it is laziness which pacifies us and makes us not pursue revenge.

A man will allow himself to be governed as much through indolence as from weakness.

There is no use attempting suddenly to control a man, and especially in matters of importance to him and his. It requires some address to prevent him feeling that you are trying to gain a moral power over him; shame or caprice would move him to resist the restraint. Let him first be guided in little things, and from thence the progress to greater things is certain. Even if at first your influence is only such as will persuade him to go to the country, or to return to town, it will end in your dictating the terms of the will by which his son is disinherited.

The best and most agreeble conversation is that in which the heart has more influence than the head.

There are certain sublime sentiments, certain grand and noble acts, which are called forth more by our moral strength than by innate goodness.

He must be a dull person indeed whom neither love, hate, nor necessity can inspire with wit.

An honorable man is repaid for his strict application to duty by the pleasure it gives him to perform it.

Short-sighted people-that is to say, people with so little imagination that it cannot reach beyond their own spherecannot understand that universality of genius which is sometimes observable in the same individual. Where they see amiability, they exclude solidity; and where they find personal grace, activity, and dexterity, they will not grant mental endowments, judgment, wisdom. They ignore that history relates of Socrates that he danced.

The wise man is cured of ambition by ambition itself.

It is a very sad thing to have neither wisdom enough to speak well, nor sense enough to be silent. This is the origin of all impertinence.

If anything can justify a foolish man's ambition, it is the trouble he takes, after he has made his fortune, to discover some imaginary merit great enough to give him the importance he considers himself worthy of.

How many men are like well-grown trees transplanted into a beautiful garden. It surprises us to see them there, as we never saw them growing; so we have no knowledge of their beginning or their progress.

Nothing will more readily make us comprehend how valueless in God's eyes are wealth and grandeur, and the other advantages he bestows on mankind, than the dispensation he makes of them, and the kind of men who are best provided.

Men display their goods every morning to cheat the public; and pack them up at night after having cheated all day.

What one wastes he steals from his heir; what one sordidly saves he steals from himself.

ATHALIAH.

BY RACINE.

[JEAN BAPTISTE RACINE, French dramatist, was born in Dept. Aisne, December 21, 1639; studied the classics with the Jansenists at Port Royal; and finished his education at the Collège d'Harcourt. After composing an ode entitled "Nymphes de la Seine," in honor of Louis XIV.'s marriage, he made the acquaintance of Boileau, Molière, and La Fontaine, and began to write for the stage. His first play, "La Thébaïde," was produced by Molière's troupe ; "Andromaque" (1667) established his reputation; then followed his one comedy, "Les Plaideurs," and a brilliant series of tragedies: "Britannicus," "Bérénice," "Bajazet, Mithridate," "Iphigénie," and "Phèdre." He withdrew from the theater after the production of "Phèdre," partly on account of envious intrigues and malicious criticisms, and settled down to a peaceful married life. After a silence of twelve years he wrote, at the solicitation of Madame de Maintenon," Esther" and "Athalie," biblical tragedies. His death (in 1699) is said to have been hastened by grief at losing the king's favor.]

แ

ATHALIAH, with her Attendants ABNER and Mattan.

Mattan

Great Queen, is this a place for thee?
What trouble stirs, what terror chills thine heart?
What dost thou in the midst of enemies?

Darest thou this unhallowed fane approach?

Hast thou that bitter hatred cast away

Athaliah

Both of you lend me an attentive ear.
I do not wish now to recall the past,
Nor give account to you for blood I shed:
A sense of duty prompted all my acts.
Nor will I take for judge a hasty crowd;
Whate'er they may presume to spread abroad,
My vindication Heaven has made its care.
My power, established on renowned success,
Has magnified my name from sea to sea;
Jerusalem enjoys profoundest peace;
The wandering Arab Jordan sees no more
Ravage his borders with continual raids;
Nor boasts Philistia over Judah now,
And Syria owns me for a sister Queen.

Lastly the traitor who destroyed my House,

And e'en to me thought to extend his rage,
Jehu, fierce Jehu, in Samaria quails
Before a mighty rival's rapid strokes,
Whom I incited to attack my foe;

And thus th' assassin leaves me mistress here,
To reap the fruits of policy in peace.

But for some days a gnawing care has come,
To check the flood of my prosperity.

A dream (why should a dream disquiet me?)
Preys on my heart, and keeps it ill at ease;

I try to banish it; it haunts me still.

'Twas deepest night, when horror falls on man, My mother Jezebel before me stood,

Richly attired as on the day she died,

Her pride undaunted by misfortune's touch.
That borrowed brightness still her features wore,
Which she would paint upon her withered face,
To hide the ravages of ruthless age:

"Tremble," she said, "child worthy of myself;
O'er thee too triumphs Judah's cruel god,
And thou must fall into his dreadful hands,
Whereat I grieve." With these alarming words,
Her specter o'er my bed appeared to bend;

I stretched my hands to clasp her; but I found.
Only a hideous mass of flesh and bones,
Horribly bruised and mangled, dragged thro' mire,
Bleeding and torn, whose limbs the dogs of prey
Were growling over with devouring greed.
Abner-

Great God!

Athaliah

While thus disturbed, before me rose
The vision of a boy in shining robe,
Such as the Hebrew priests are wont to wear.
My drooping spirits at his sight revived:
But while my troubled eyes, to peace restored,
Admired his noble air and modest grace,

I felt the sudden stroke of murderous steel
Plunged deeply by the traitor in my breast.
Perhaps to you this dream, so strangely mixed,
May seem a work of chance, and I myself,
For long ashamed to let my fears prevail,
Referred it to a melancholy mood;

But while its memory lingered in my soul,
Twice in my sleep I saw that form again,
Twice the same child before my eyes appeared,
Always about to stab me to the heart.

Worn out at last by horror's close pursuit,
I went to claim Baal's protecting care,
And, kneeling at his altars, find repose.

How strangely fear may sway our mortal minds!
And instinct seemed to drive me to these courts,
To pacify the god whom Jews adore;

I thought that offerings might appease his wrath,
That this their god might grow more merciful.
Baal's High Priest, my feebleness forgive!

I entered; and the sacrifice was stayed,

The people fled, Jehoiada in wrath

Advanced to meet me. As he spake, I saw

With terror and surprise that selfsame boy

Who haunts me in my dreams. I saw him there;
His mien the same, the same his linen stole,
His gait, his eyes, each feature of his face;
It was himself; beside th' High Priest he walked,
Till quickly they removed him from my sight.

That is the trouble which detains me here,
And thereon would I fain consult you both.
Mattan, what means this omen marvelous ?

Mattan

Coincidence so strange fills me with dread.

Athaliah

Abner

But, Abner, hast thou seen this fatal child?
Who is he? What his family, his tribe?

---

Two children at the altar lend their aid,
One is the High Priest's son, the other is
To me unknown.

Mattan

Why hesitate to act?
Your Majesty must needs secure them both.
"Tis known how I regard Jehoiada,
Seeking no vengeance for my private wrongs,
In all my warnings studying to be fair;
But, after all, were this indeed his son,
Would he one moment let the guilty live?
Abner-

Of what crime can a child be capable?

Mattan

Abner

Heaven showed him with a dagger in his hand;
And Heaven is just and wise, nor works in vain.
What more dost want?

But, trusting to a dream,
Say, wouldst thou have us bathe in infant blood?
Ye know not yet his father nor his name.

Mattan

Enough for fear! I have considered all.
If from illustrious parentage he springs,
His ruin should be hastened by his rank;
If fate has placed him in a lot obscure,
What matters it if worthless blood be spilt?
Must kings keep pace when justice lags behind?
On promptitude their safety oft depends;
No irksome scruples need their freedom check;
To be suspected is all one with guilt.
Abner-

Mattan! Is this the language of a priest?
Nursed in the lap of war, in carnage reared,
Stern agent of the vengeful wrath of Kings,
'Tis I who now must urge misfortune's plea!
And thou, who owest him a father's love,
A minister of peace in times of wrath,
Cloaking resentment with pretended zeal
Dost chafe that blood should flow so tardily!

Thou badest me, Madam, speak my honest thought:
What, then, is this that moves thy fear so much?
A dream, a feeble child, whom, it may be
Too readily thy fancy recognized.

Athaliah

Abner, I will admit I may be wrong,
Heeding too much, perchance, an idle dream.
More closely then must I behold that child,
And at my leisure scan his features well.
Let both the boys be brought before me now.