Athaliah of Racine, by J. Donkersley.

ATHALIAH, MATHAN, ABNER, SUITE OF ATHALIAH.

MATHAN.
     Great queen! is this a fitting place for you?
     What trouble agitates you—fear congeals?
     What do you come to seek amidst your foes?
     Dare you approach this temple of profaneness?
     Have you cast off that hatred so intense—

ATHALIAH.
          List both of you attentively:
     I wish not here to call to mind the past,
     Nor render an account of blood that's flowed;
     I do not take a hasty crowd for judge;
     In what its violence has dared put forth,
     To justify me, heaven itself has cared.
     The great achievements of my rooted power
     Have made my name respected to both seas:
     By me Jerusalem's a calm profound;
     Jordan no longer sees the vagrant Arabs',
     Nor proud Philistines' constant ravages,
     Lay waste her banks, as in your sovereigns' times;
     The Syrian treats me as a sister queen;
     At length the treacherous scourger of my house.

ATHALIAH.
     Who was to drive his cruelty on me,
     Jehu, the haughty Jehu, in Samaria
     Is trembling; pressed by potent neighbours
     On every side, whom I have found the means
     To raise against that murderer; and I
     Am left the royal mistress of those lands;
     In peace the fruit of my sagacity
     Enjoying. But, some days ago, there came
     A sleepless trouble to arrest the course
     Of my prosperity. A dream (why should a dream
     Disquiet me?) feeds in my heart a pang
     That wrings it; everywhere I try to shun it;
     But everywhere it follows me. It was
     During the horror of the night profound,
     My mother, Jezebel, before me stood,
     Apparelled gorgeously, as on the day
     Of her decease; misfortunes had not crushed
     Her dignity; and even she had still
     That borrowed tint, with which it was her care
     To bloom and ornament her countenance,
     In order to repair the ravages
     Of years irreparable. 'Tremble, daughter,
     Thou worthy of myself,' to me she said;
     'The cruel God of Judah over thee
     Will certainly prevail: I pity thee,
     My daughter, falling into His dread hands.'
     These fearful words completed, towards my bed
     Her shadow seemed to bend itself, and I
     Held out my arms in order to embrace it;
     But only found confusion horrible
     Of mangled bones and flesh dragged in the mud,
     And tatters soaked in gore, of hideous limbs,
     That dogs, devouring, fought for with each other.

ABNER.
     Great God!

ATHALIAH.
     In this disorder came before mine eyes
     A tender boy, in radiant robes arrayed,
     As one beholds the Hebrew priests attired.
     My sunken spirits rallied at the vision;
     But when recovering from my deadly trouble,
     His sweetness, noble air, and modesty
     I was admiring, all at once I felt
     A homicidal steel, plunged by the traitor
     Deep through my breast.—Of objects so diverse
     The strange assemblage, seems to you perhaps
     A work of chance; and I myself, at times,
     Shamed of my fears, have thought it but the effect
     Of sombre melancholy; but my soul,
     Possessed by this remembrance, in my sleep,
     Has twice beheld that spectre terrible:
     Twice my sad eyes have had upon them traced
     The picture of that boy always prepared
     To spring on me. At length, quite wearied out,
     With horrors that pursued me, unto Baal
     I went to ask protection for my life,
     And at his altars look for some repose:
     What cannot terror do in mortal mind?
     An instinct forced me to the Jewish temple,
     And I conceived the thought to appease their God:
     Some offerings, I believed, would calm His rage,
     And make that God, whate'er He be, more gentle.
     Pontiff of Baal excuse my feebleness!
     I entered; but the sacrifices ceased,
     The people fled; the high-priest furiously
     Rushed towards me; whilst he spake, O terrible
     surprise!
     I saw that selfsame child, my menacer,
     Such as my frightful dream had fashioned him.
     I saw him; even his air, his linen garb,
     His gait, his eyes, his lineaments entire:
     It was himself. He walked beside the high-priest:
     But soon they caused him to avoid my sight.
     This is the trouble that arrests me here,
     And touching which I long to question both.
     Mathan, what does this prodigy forebode?

MATHAN.
     This dream, and this resemblance seem to me
     Quite terrible.

ATHALIAH.
     But, Abner, have you seen that fatal boy?
     What is he? Of what blood, and of what tribe?

ABNER.
     Two children at the altar lend their service:
     The one is Joad's, his mother, Josabet;
     The other is unknown to me.

MATHAN.
          But why
     Deliberate, Madam, must not both be seized?
     You know my moderation, and regard
     For Joad, and that I do not seek revenge
     For injuries; that equity alone
     In all my counsels is the ruling virtue.
     But after all, even were it his own child,
     Could he one moment let the culprit live?

ABNER.
     What is the crime for which the boy is fitted?

MATHAN.
     Heaven's shown him with a weapon in his hand.
     Heaven, just' and wise, does nothing fruitlessly.
     What do you seek for more?

ABNER.
          But on the strength
     Of a mere dream urge you that we should plunge
     Our hands into the blood of blossoming youth?
     You know not yet his father, who he is.

MATHAN.
     He stirs our fears; that comprehends the whole.
     If of illustrious parents he is born,
     The splendour of his lot must speed his doom.
     Should fate have ranked him in obscurity,
     What matters it if low-born blood be spilt?
     Does this slow justice appertain to kings?
     Their safety oft depends on prompt redress.
     Let us not pinch them with perplexing cares:
     Suspected ones are criminals to them.

ABNER.
     Mathan, is this the language of a priest?
     I, trained to horrid carnage in the field,
     The stern executor of royal vengeance,
     Must I to the unhappy lend my voice!
     And you, who owe to him a father's yearnings,
     You, minister of peace in time of wrath,
     Now, covering your resentment with false zeal,
     Are of opinion blood too lightly flows!
     You have commanded me to speak to you
     Without concealment, Madam: What is then
     This mighty cause of fear? A dream, a child
     Devoid of power, that your suspicious eye
     Thinks it has recognised, perhaps untruly.

ATHALIAH.
     I wish to think so, Abner, I may be
     Deluded; probably an empty dream
     Has too much occupied my spirit. Well,
     I must observe that child more narrowly;
     His features I must scan at leisure. Let
     Them both be brought before me.

ABNER.
     I fear—

ATHALIAH.
     What would they fail in courtesy to me?
     Of that strange non-compliance, what the cause?
     It might produce in me mistrustful thoughts.
     Let Josabet, or Joad, I tell you, bring them \
     I can, when time requires, speak like a queen.
     Abner, to you I may indeed declare,
     Your priests have reason to be satisfied
     With Athaliah's kindness. Still I know
     That on my conduct and against my power
     How far they bear the license of their speech:
     They live, however, and their temple stands.
     But soon, I feel, my gentleness must end.
     Let Joad put bridle on his savage zeal,
     Nor wound me with a second outrage. Go.

MATHAN.
     At length I have the liberty to speak;
     I can expose the truth to open day.
     Some monster's rising in that temple reared!
     Queen, do not wait the bursting of the cloud.
     Abner, attended by the high-priest Joad,
     Was there before the break of day: You know
     His passion for the offspring of their kings.
     And who can say that Joad does not intend,
     In place of them, to substitute the boy
     By which heaven threatens you. It may perchan
     Be his own son.

ATHALIAH.
     Mine eyes are opened: I begin to see
     Clearly into the warnings of the heavens.
     I wish, however, to be free from doubt:
     A child is little fit to flourish thoughts,
     Yet one may make us judge of great designs.
     I must, dear Mathan, see him—question him.
     But go yourself, without exciting fears,
     And cause my Tyrians to arm themselves.

JOAD, JOSABET, JOAS, ZACHARIAH, ABNER, SALOMITH,
     LEVITES, AND THE CHOIR.

JOSABET (to Joad).
     My lord, Did you o'erhear that haughty queen?

JOAD.
     I heard the whole, and I bewailed your anguish.
     To lend you aid, these Levites and myself,
     Were close at hand, resolved to die with you.

     (To Joas.)
     May God watch over you whose courage, child,
     Has just returned this noble testimony
     Unto His name! I recognize, dear Abner,
     This important service: bear in mind
     The hour when Joad expects you. We, whose sight
     This inpious, murderous woman has defiled,
     Whose prayers has interrupted, will return:
     And let immaculate blood, shed by my hands,
     Cleanse to the marble what her steps have touched.

THE CHORUS.
     One of the daughters of the Choir.
     What star has burst upon our sight?
     What will that marvellous child one day become?
     He braveth pompous haughtiness,
     And will not let himself be lured
     By any of her dangerous baits.

     Another.
     Whilst each to Athaliah's god
     With incense to the altar runs,
     A child unfearing publishes
     That God alone eternal is,
     And speaks as once Elijah spoke
     Before the other Jezebel.

     Another.     Who will reveal to us thy secret birth
     Dear child? Art thou some holy prophet's son?

     Another.
     And thus the lovely Samuel was seen
     To grow beneath the tabernacle's shadow;
     Become the Hebrews' hope and oracle.
     May'st thou like him console our race!

     Another sings.
     O blessed, a thousand times,
     The child that loves the Lord,
     Who early hearkens to His voice,
     Whom God, Himself, doth deign to teach!
     Far from the world he, nurtured, is adorned
     By all heaven's blessings from his birth;
     And the contagious company of the bad
     Doth alter not his innocence.

     All the Choir.
     O happy, happy is the child
     That God instructs and vindicates!
     The same voice alone.     So, in a secret vale upon the banks
     Of a pellucid stream,
     Beneath the shadow of an oak,
     A tender lily bloometh, nature's love.
     Far from the world arising, 'tis adorned
     With all heaven's blessings from its birth;
     And the contagious company of the bad
     Doth alter not its innocence.

     All the Choir.
     O blest, a thousand times, the child
     That God doth render docile to His laws.

     One voice alone.
     My God, how can a growing virtue walk
     Amongst so many dangers with sure step %
     What obstacles are found to his designs
     Who seeketh Thee, and wisheth innocence
     What enemies make war on him!
     Where can Thy saints conceal themselves?
     The evil-doers overspread the earth.

     Another.
     O David's palace, and his cherished city,
     Famed mount, where even God a long time dwelt,
     Why hast thou from the heavens drawn down His
     wrath?
     Sion, dear Sion, what sayest thou,
     When thou, alas! beholdst upon the throne
     Of thine own kings, an impious stranger sat?

     All the Choir.     Sion, dear Sion, what sayest thou,
     When thou, alas! beholdst upon the throne
     Of thine own kings, an impious stranger sat!

     The same voice continues.
     Instead of David's pleasing strains,
     In which he poured his holy raptures,
     And blessed his God, his Father and his Lord:
     Sion, dear Sion, what sayest thou,
     When thou dost hear them laud the strangers' god,
     And curse the name thy princes have adored?

     One voice alone.
     How long, O Lord, and yet again how long
     Shall we behold the wicked rise 'gainst Thee?
     They come into Thy temple braving Thee:
     The people who adore Thee, treat as frenzied.
     How long, O Lord, and yet again How long
     Shall we behold the wicked rise 'gainst Thee?

     Another.
     Wherefore, say they, this sombre piety?
     Why flee the use of many joys so sweet?
     Your God does naught for you.

     Another.
     Come laugh and sing, exclaims this impious band;
     From flower to flower, from sweet to sweet,
     Let us give air to our desires,
     In the insensate future who confides?
     Doubtful the number of our fleeting years:
     Then let us haste to-day to relish life;
     Who knows if we shall be to-morrow?

     All the Choir.     O let them weep, my God, and groan for fear,
     The miserable, who will not see
     The eternal splendour of Thy holy city.
     But we must chant, to whom Thou dost reveal
     Thy everlasting light;
     Of all Thy gifts and grandeur we must sing.

     One voice alone.     What will remain of all their empty pleasures
     In which their soul is sunk? I' the dregs of dreams
     Whose error's recognized.
     At their awaking—awaking full of horror!—
     Whilst at the table the just poor will taste
     The sweets of peace unspeakable,
     The hideous cup exhaustless they will drink,
     Which in the day of wrath thou wilt present
     To all the guilty race.

     All the Choir.     O waking full of horror!
     O fleeting dream!
     O dangerous error!

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

MATHAN, NABAL, THE CHOIR.

MATHAN.
     Young daughters, go, and say to Josabet
     That Mathan waits to speak to her in private.

     One of the daughters of the Choir.
     Mathan! O God of heaven do thou confound him.

NABAL.
     How now? all flee, disperse without reply!

MATHAN.
     Let us approach.

ZACHARIAH, MATHAN, NABAL.

ZACHARIAH.
     Audacious! Whither would you go? Forbear
     Beyond this place to make advance: it is
     The holy minister's divine abode.
     To all profane the law forbids the entrance.
     Of whom are you in search? My mother shuns,
     Upon this solemn day, the guilty sight
     Of foul idolatry; and prostrate now
     Before the Lord, would shrink from being disturbed.

MATHAN.
     My son, her time is ours; be not alarmed;
     I wish to speak to your illustrious mother.
     I come here charged with orders from the queen.

MATHAN, NABAL.
NABAL.
     The children have already their fierce pride.
     But what doth Athaliah seek in this?
     What is this tumult born of in her councils?
     By overbearing Joad this morn offended,
     And in her dreams braved by a murderous child,
     She went to sacrifice the high-priest Joad
     Unto her wrath, and in the end to place
     Within that temple Baal and you. You had
     To me already testified your joy;
     I hoped, on my part, for so rich a prey.
     What changes thus her vacillating vows?

MATHAN.
     I have not known her, friend, for two days past.
     No more the queen of an enlightened spirit,
     Intrepid, raised beyond her timid sex,
     Who crushed, at first, her wondering enemies,
     And knew the value of occasion lost:
     The pangs of vain remorse whelm this great soul:
     She wavers, hesitates, is in a word,
     A woman. I, her heart, already wrung
     With threats from heaven, had filled with bitterness
     And rancour; she, confiding to my care
     Her vengeance, had commanded me to bring
     At once her guards together: but, indeed,
     Whether that brat before her brought, and said
     To be an outcast from his parents, had
     Diminished the alarm of frightful dreams,
     Or she had seen in him some unknown charm,
     I found her anger reeling, undecided:
     She now puts off her vengeance till to-morrow.
     Her projects all appear to slay each other.
     "Some knowledge I have gained of this boy's fate,"
     So did I say; "now of his ancestry
     They have begun to boast: from time to time
     Joad shows him to the factious, holds him up,
     As if another Moses, to the Jews,
     And lying oracles support his speech."
     These words did cause the blood to mount her brow:
     Ne'er lucky fable had such prompt effect.
     "Must I drag on in this uncertainty?
     Let us escape," said she, "this restlessness.
     To Josabet declare you this resolve—
     'The fires are kindling, and the sword prepared,
     Nothing can save your temple from destruction,
     If hostage for your faith that child's not given.'"

NABAL.
     Why for a boy of whom they're ignorant,
     That chance, perhaps, has cast into their arms,
     Will they behold their temple tombed in weeds?

MATHAN.
     Ah! of all mortals known, the haughtiest!
     Sooner than yield a child into our hands,
     That Joad has consecrated to his God,
     He would endure the most terrific death.
     Besides 'tis plainly seen they love the child.
     If, from the queen, I heard a true report,
     Joad of his birth knows more than he imparts.
     However fatal it may be for them,
     I can foresee they will not give him up.
     On me the rest remains; and in the end
     I hope that fire and sword will free my eyes
     Of that obnoxious temple!

NABAL.
     What can inspire in you so fierce a hate?
     Is it your zeal for Baal inflames you thus?
     As for myself, you know of Ishmael blood,
     I neither worship Baal nor Israel's God.

MATHAN.
     Friend, canst thou think that I allow myself
     To be made blind by an unworthy zeal
     For a vain idol, fragile form of wood,
     Which, notwithstanding my support, the worms
     Upon its altar every day consume?
     Born servant of the God that temple loves,
     It might be Mathan would adore Him still,
     If lust of greatness, thirst for dominance,
     Could be accommodated to His yoke.
     Nabal, what need repicture to thy mind
     The noted quarrel of myself and Joad.
     When I 'gainst him the censor dared dispute,
     My factions, struggles, waitings, my despair?
     Vanquished by him I chose a new career,
     And wed my soul entirely to the court.
     I by degrees approached their royal honours,
     And soon my voice was made an oracle.
     I probed their heart, and flattered their caprice;
     Bestrewed with flowers the precipice's brink;
     Serving their passions, naught to me was sacred;
     Measure and weight I changed as they inclined.
     As much as Joad's unpliant humour pained
     The softness of their supercilious ear,
     So much I pleased them with my dexterous art;
     Concealing from their eyes the bitter truth;
     Lending convenient colour to their rage;
     And, lavish, above all, of wretches' blood.
     At length, to Baal, whom she had introduced,
     By Athaliah was a temple reared.
     Jerusalem did weep to see herself
     Profaned: The alarmed band of Levi's race
     Did elevate to heaven appalling cries.
     Giving example to the timid Jews.
     Deserter from their law, myself approved
     The enterprise, and merited by that
     Baal's priesthood: and I made myself withal
     A terror to my rival; I put on
     The turban—walked his equal. Ne'ertheless
     I must avow, that in that glorious height
     The troublesome memory of the God I left
     Still throws into my soul a shade of dread:
     Tis that which strengthens and supports my fury.
     Happy, if on the temple my revenge
     Accomplishing, I can at length content
     Her petty spite, and lose amongst the wreck
     The ravage and the slaughter, my remorse,
     By dint of those enormities. But here
     Is Josabet.

JOSABET, MATHAN, NABAL.

MATHAN.
          Commissioned by the queen
     To calm again, and dissipate the anger,
     Princess, in which heaven placed so sweet a soul,
     Be not surprised at my addressing you.
     A rumour, which however I suspect
     To be a fable, favouring the warnings,
     Which in a dream she had received, on Joad,
     Accused of dangerous complots, she was going
     To pour the floodgates of her wrath. I wish
     Not here to boast of services to you—
     I know of Joad's injustice to myself—
     But for offence I must return good deeds.
     At length, I come to speak the words of peace.
     Live, solemnize your feasts without distrust,
     She only claims a pledge of your submission:
     It is—I did my utmost to dissuade her—
     The orphan whom she says that she has seen.

JOSABET.
     Eliacin?

MATHAN.
     I am ashamed of her on that account:
     Of a vain dream she makes too much ado:
     But you declare yourselves her mortal foes,
     If not that child's resigned to me at once:
     The queen impatiently 'waits your reply.

JOSABET.
     And that on her part is the peace announced.

MATHAN.
     Can you one moment hesitate to grant it?
     Or is that courtesy too dear for peace?

JOSABET.
     Could Mathan, I was wondering, stript of guile,
     Have overcome the injustice of his heart;
     And, fatal plotter of so many ills,
     Could he be author of a shade of good.

MATHAN.
     Of what do you complain? Come I enraged
     To tear from you your offspring, Zachariah?
     What is this other child you love so well?
     In turn, this great affection marvels me.
     Is he to you a pearl so precious, rare?
     Is he a liberator trained by Heaven?
     Remember, your refusal would confirm
     A faint report that's just begun to spread.

JOSABET.
     What report I

MATHAN.
     That of illustrious origin's the child,
     Destined to some great project by your spouse.

JOSABET.
     And by that tale, which flatters Mathan's fury—

MATHAN.
     Princess, to think me false belongs to you.
     Yet still I deem that Josabet, the foe
     Implacable of falsehood, would resign
     Her own life even, were it requisite,
     Rather than life of insincerity
     Be purchased by the slightest word untrue.
     Then of that child's descent there is no trace?
     Darkness profound surrounds his origin!
     You know not of what parents he was born?
     From whose hands Joad received him to his arms?
     Pray speak, I listen ready to believe.
     Princess, unto the God you serve give glory!

JOSABET.
     Base one, is't well you thus dare speak the name
     Of God, whom your own tongue bids men to curse!
     Could His veracity be vouched by you,
     You, wretched, sat upon the noxious bench
     Where poison's scattered, falsehood hath the sway;
     You, nurtured in deceit and treachery?

JOAD, JOSABET, MATHAN, NABAL.

JOAD.
     Where am I? Am I looking at Baal's priest?
     What, David's daughter speaking to that traitor?
     And will you tolerate his speech with you?
     Do you not fear that a profound abyss
     Will yawning open underneath his feet,
     So that its flames at once will compass you?
     Or that these walls will crush you fallen on him?
     What wants he? Wherefore comes, this enemy
     Of God, to taint the air we here inhale?

MATHAN.
     This violence gives evidence of Joad.
     Yet he would show more prudence to respect
     His sovereign, and not outrage one that she
     Has deigned to charge with her commands.

JOAD.
     Well, what's the ill she bids you to announce,
     What frightful charge may such an agent bear?

MATHAN.
     To Josabet I have made known her will.

JOAD.
     Then quit me, monster of iniquity,
     Go fill thy measure of all horrid things.
     God rules to join thee with the perjured race,
     Achitophel, Abiron, Doeg, Dathan t
     The dogs which tore the limbs of Jezebel,
     Waiting to show their fury upon thee,
     Already, at thy gates, demand their prey.

mathan (agitated).     Before this day expires—it will be seen
     Which of us—— He shall be forced—

     (To Nabal.)
     But, Nabal, let us go.

NABAL.
     Where wander you? What wildering chaos is
     The master of your senses? That's your way.

JOAD, JOSABET.

JOSABET.
     The storm has burst!
     The queen, enraged, demands Eliacin.
     Already of his birth, and your designs
     They have begun to pierce the mystery:
     Mathan but failed to name to me his father.

JOAD.
     To the perfidious Mathan who has told it?
     Has not your agitation said too much?

JOSABET.
     I did whate'er I could to curb myself.
     Howe'er, believe me, peril presses, Sir;
     For happier times let us reserve that child.
     Whilst wicked ones deliberate with each other,
     Before he is surrounded, torn from us,
     Allow me to conceal him once again;
     To him are open yet the doors, the gates.
     Shall we convey him to the wildest desert?
     I am prepared, I know a secret way,
     By which myself and he, still unperceived,
     The torrents of the Cedron passing over,
     May go into the desert, where in tears,
     And seeking safety, like ourselves, in flight,
     David escaped his rebel son's pursuit.
     I shall, on his account, fear wild beasts less;—
     But why do you not favour Jehu's aid?
     Perhaps good counsel I may offer you;
     Let us make Jehu guardian of this treasure,
     We could to-day conduct him to his kingdom,
     For short the road is leading to his court.
     Jehu has not a wild, relentless heart;
     The name of David's honoured in his eyes.
     Alas! is he a king so callous, cruel,
     Unless his mother was a Jezebel,
     That he would not commiserate the fate
     Of such a suppliant? Is not his cause
     The common one of kings?

JOAD.
     Dare you propose to me such timid counsels?
     What can you hope in Jehu's countenance?

JOSABET.
     Does God forbid all care and all prevision?
     Will not an over-confidence offend Him?
     Employing human means to sacred ends,
     Has He Himself not Jehu's arm equipt?

JOAD.
     Jehu, on whom I see your hopes are built,
     Paying His gifts with thankless thoughtlessness,
     Jehu in peace leaves Ahab's hideous daughter;
     Following the course profane of Israel's kings,
     Of Egypt's worthless god he saves the temples;
     Jehu, at length, dares offer on the heights
     An incense rash which God can not allow:
     His heart's not just enough, nor pure his hands,
     To serve His cause—to avenge His injuries.
     No, No, 'tis God alone we must engage.
     Far from concealing, let us show the boy,
     And let the diadem surround his head:
     I even will urge on the expected hour,
     Before vile Mathan's complots can be formed.

Scene V.

Scene VI.

Scene VII

Scenes VIII and IX.

ACT III.—Scenes I. and II

Scene III.

Scene IV.

Scene V.

Scene VI.