Salome, however, has different views on the matter; and though Herod is at first strengthened in his project by her opposition to it, he reverts to the mood of vengeance when a member of the Sanhedrin comes to plead for Mariamne’s life:
Herod. My wrath is on you.
Old man, I am the judge, I am the king—;
There will not be a queen: I am her husband.
... Go back,
Far off!—;Bid those that sit and croak with you
Remember how august the Sanhedrin
Would rule the sons of Jacob. Say the king
Will turn not from his sentence for an hour.
Shemaiah. God save you!
Salome. Herod—;
Herod. I shall stay here, Salome; not with you,
But not alone.... There is no track for sleep
To wander after me; I shall not sleep.
Send Nicholas to read his History.
. . . . .
If I listen
To Nicholas it will be as a sea—;
What men have done and suffered—;as a sea
Pouring upon my ears; and it will tangle
Imagination that it shall not raise me
My bridal chamber at Samaria,
The adored head on my bosom, the young body
Loving me close, in very oneness, flesh
Even of my flesh—;our bridal a flower’s heart
Of balsam, and our secrecy.... To-morrow
The people watch her to her death.
Salome,
Call Nicholas....
I shall stay here, for dawn
Comes on the other side: the sun
Comes on the other side.
Send Nicholas!
Of the final scene, and of the rendering of Herod’s madness after Mariamne’s execution, one can only say that history provided the poets with a magnificent opportunity and that they rose to the height of it. But it is necessary to quote at least one other passage to illustrate the progress of the plot through the development of character. Accident plays no part in the march of the story: intrigue notwithstanding, the protagonists are betrayed from within, and events proceed inevitably, like a conspiracy of life itself. Almost any scene would indicate this; but one chooses that which follows, for the further reason that it treats a well-known incident of the story, and one which reveals at once Herod’s character and the nature of his love for Mariamne. I mean, of course, the secret command which he gave on two separate occasions when starting upon a dangerous expedition, that if he should die Mariamne should be instantly killed. It is an action in which the elements of his nature are stripped bare by his frantic passion. At least, the casual eye will see nothing more in it than a savage and treacherous cruelty verging on madness. How much more the poet can see need not be indicated in giving this quotation from Act II, Scene 2. Herod has returned in safety from Rome, and discovers that Joseph, who had charge of Mariamne, has betrayed to her the order to slay her in the event of Herod’s death. His jealousy immediately concludes that she has bribed Joseph by her favour:
Herod. Could he have said it of himself alone?
Could he have dared so break his oath? My silence—;
Was it unsealed by him?
. . . . .
Mariamne, so you pleaded for your life,
And you prevailed. Will you not plead with me?
Will you not recollect and feign again
To me, your husband, with the words you feigned,
The love you feigned to love ... or was the man
Beloved, who was your lover?
[Mariamne stands quite still.
Is this pride?
You are a Maccabee, an Israelite,
King Alexander’s daughter—;I of Edom,
Descended from a slave of Ascalon,
Not to be answered by your royal lips.
[Mariamne sighs a little: then, raising
her eyes, speaks quietly.
Mariamne. How was it drawn from him?
As the night comes up into the evening-tide.
I was sad, and he was sorrowful to death
That he had sworn a cruelty and wrong
So unavailing to repent, if done.
Spare him, lord, in belief of my clear words.
[Herod gazes at her with awe, then muffles
his face in his robe, and speaks slowly.
Herod. Were you so sad at dying, when to die
Was but to rise up at my bidding, Come!
Was but to quicken to my cry, Receive me
Back in your arms? Oh, you are slow of heart!
When I was dying of the pest in Rome,
And knew not I should look upon you more,
Death was not cold, death glowed with Mariamne,
I had prepared her welcome on that shore!
[She flashes one rapid glance at him.
Mariamne. I will wait you on that shore, my lord the king.
Herod. O my gazelle, my noble distance-keeper,
Wilt thou indeed await me? Then why tarry?
Mariamne. But do not cast between us any more
One that is dead. Spare Joseph, merciful!