University of Virginia Library

ACT III

Scene.—The Hall of Audience as before; sunset. The Chief Captains, Councillors and Priests assembled, including Gadias, a Physician, Cypros, etc. On one side of the throne stand Priests, who are displaying ivory and marble and precious stones. On the other side are various Architects and Chief Masons, who are eagerly displaying charts and plans. As the Curtain rises there is the hum of many voices, but Gadias rising to speak with uplifted hand, there is a sudden silence.
Gadias.
Priests, councillors and captains nigh the throne,
Who are partakers of our private mind;
Long time, ye know, the melancholy king
Herod hath brooded by the Dead Sea wave
Incapable of empire: but to-day
Returns to grasp the reins of sovereignty.
[A murmur of approbation.
Priests, councillors and captains nigh the throne,
All Jewry on that single brain depends.
Herod alone defers the Roman doom,
That general fate whereto the world is born.
[A low assenting murmur.
That moment when the reason of the king
Shall tremble, trembles with it all this realm.
And now it seems that by the Dead Sea marge
Long since his mind had maddened, but for one
Idea with which he still doth rock himself.
[A movement of surprise.
Some fancy, all incredible to me,
But which alone diverts insanity,
And what this is, from the Physician hear!

Phys.
Councillors, priests, my business is to mend
The mind, not mingle with affairs of State.
Now listen: though the embalméd queen is cold,
Yet from that irremediable thought
The king's brain starts aside: such is his love
He dares not to imagine she is dead.
[A movement of astonishment.
And in the wild foam of insanity
He clasps this rock: that Mariamne lives.
Once let her death rush in upon his brain,
Madness will seize him!

Priest.
And darkness the land.

Gadias.
Seeing the issue then how vast; whate'er
You and myself may deem of this, our aim
Must be to fend from him reality,
And for as long as may be to conspire
Against the idea of Mariamne's death.

Phys.
[Pointing to Priests.]
With ivory distract him and with gems!
Have music to avert some sudden rush,
And dancers to allure him from the truth.
If he send messages unto the dead,
Let messages be carried: if he ask
An answer from the dead, be answer given.
Only from one thought save him!

Priest.
And so save
Your wives, your children, this beloved land
From ruin and the nearing roar of Rome!

Phys.
Remember, if we can but bring him safe
Through the sharp crisis of his malady;
If for the first few hours of his return
We can with music and with gems divert him
From realising Mariamne's death,
Then is there hope that he, with stealing time
And reconciling lapse of quiet hours,
May come to acquiesce and to submit
To the dread fact of Mariamne's death.

Enter Salome.
Gadias.
Princess Salome!

Salome.
Mother, he is coming.
We must be tender with him: this is left us.
[She turns to Court.
Councillors, priests, my brother now is coming.
When you shall see him—if there be of you
Any that envied or that hated him,
His face shall make you to forget your wrongs.
[A movement of sympathy.
I have been close to him by day, by night,
When he would dash him 'gainst Masada's walls
With piteous climbings; for it seemed to him
That he again was bearing off the queen.
I have been near him when like some wild beast
He turned upon himself as on some prey;
But me he loathes, and ‘Mariamne’ cries,
And ‘Mariamne!’ until I, who wrought
This ruin, would revive her if I might.
I would support—how gladly now!—her look,
Her high disdain, I would bow down to it,
Only to bring her in alive to him:
But he shall not be happy till he die.
And now far more to see her face again,
As he imagines, than to take up rule,
He cometh hither.

Priest.
Hither?

Salome.
Here he saw her
Last; and he heard her speak for the last time.
O sirs, let him not rush in on her body
Suddenly: but by every art divert him
From realising that the queen is dead.

[Murmurs are heard without.
Gadias.
He comes.

Phys.
Each man stand sentinel 'gainst truth,
And watch the gates against reality!

A Cry.
The king!
[Nearer.]
The king!
[Near the throne.]
The king!

The Court.
Herod, all hail!

Enter Herod, unkempt and in ragged apparel.
He slowly ascends the throne and sits in it.
Gadias.
O king, restore to us that mastering brain,
That grappling will, those disentangling hands.

The Court.
Herod, Herod!

Herod.
The business now?

Gadias.
O king!
Since thou wast sitting where thou sittest now,
A pestilence hath fallen upon the land,
Then famine! And the realm is filled with bones.
What should we do? Where's succour and where hope?
To me it seemed—

Herod.
Import from Egypt grain!
And I myself out of my private purse
Will fifty thousand of my subjects feed.
Dispatch to Egypt!

Councillor.
The king's mind is clear
Still, there is hope.

Herod.
This is the hour—is't not?—when Mariamne—

Gadias.
[Interrupting.]
Lo! the chief builders, masons, engineers,
Who make at thy command the sea-coast ring
From Gaza northward unto Cæsarea.

Chief Builder.
O king, since thou wast sick all idle stands
In scaffolded and roofless interruption,
An unborn desolation of blank stone,
Bird-haunted as a dead metropolis.

Herod.
I will create a city of my own;
And therefore with sea-thwarting bastions
And mighty moles will make impregnable
That beach where Cæsarea shall arise.
[He passes his hand over his brow.
How easy this! Yet against flooding thoughts—
[Turns to the Court.
Well, well, a harbour then for every nation,
Whereon shall ride the navies of the world.
There vessels from the sunset shall unlade;
The harbour one vast bosom shall become
For towering galleons of the ocean weary;
For driven things a place of rest. Rest—rest—
How easy this—yet for the driven mind!
[Suddenly.]
Go, tell the queen that I would speak to her.
[A general movement.
She knows not yet I am returned?

Gadias.
O king!
Not yet!

Herod.
Then tell her I would speak to her.
[An Attendant starts to go.
Come hither you! I will not have her vexed,
Nor troubled to come; perchance she is asleep,
Asleep—then rouse her not—you understand.
I'll wait her waking.
[Exit Attendant.
[Herod turns to the Court.
This then is my design.
And now that in my coffers 'gins to pour
Pearl of barbaric kings and savage gold,
And emeralds of Indian emperors,
And wafted ivory in silent night,
And floated marble in the moonbeams, now
That the green waves are glooming pearls for me,
And metals cry to me to be delivered,
And screened jewels wait like brides, I'll have
No stint—no waiting on how much, how far—
[Gadias beckons Chief Artificer.
You understand?

Chief A.
O king, even now the city
Seems rising as by incantation!
Each dawn new roofs shall dazzle, sudden towers
And masonry in morning magical.

Herod.
Hence to the coast! And every hour dispatch
New messengers of rising domes and halls,
And terraces of bloom and blowing gardens,
Or some repulse of the invading sea!

Chief A.
O king! it shall be done.

Herod.
Dismiss them. Where
[Exeunt Artificers, etc.
Is he I sent in to the queen—how long?

A Priest.
Lo! those whom thou hast caused to build the Temple,
The chief artificers in gold and silver,
Marble and porphyry and red pumice-stone,
Trimmers of jewel sparks—

Herod.
Pour out those pearls,
And give me in my hand that bar of gold.
[Rises.
I heard an angel crying from the Sun,
[Court listen intently.
For glory, for more glory on the earth;
And here I'll build the wonder of the world.
I have conceived a Temple that shall stand
Up in such splendour that men bright from it
Shall pass with a light glance the pyramids.
I'll have—
Re-enter Attendant.
Ah! come you from the queen? Fear not.
She is asleep?

[Murmur of satisfaction.
Gadias.
[To whom Attendant has whispered.]
She is fallen in a deep sleep.

Herod.
Ah, rouse her not:
[To Attendant.]
You did not touch her? No?
You did not speak o'er loud? She did not stir then?

Attend.
O king! she stirred not once.

Herod.
Such sleep is good.
But there was still the moving of the breast?

Attend.
O king—

Herod.
[Hastily.]
Yes—yes—I understand—I—

Priest.
Sir,
Each moment wasted from this huge emprize
The Temple—

Herod.
[To Attendant.]
Hither! Quietly in my ear.
I say—you saw—her bosom stirred?

Attend.
I saw—

Herod.
You saw! It is enough!
[To Court.]
Bear with me—oh!
I dreamed last night of a dome of beaten gold
To be a counter-glory to the Sun.
There shall the eagle blindly dash himself,
There the first beam shall strike, and there the moon
Shall aim all night her argent archery;
And it shall be the tryst of sundered stars,
The haunt of dead and dreaming Solomon;
Shall send a light upon the lost in Hell,
And flashing upon faces without hope—
[Murmur of sympathy.
And I will think in gold and dream in silver,
Imagine in marble and in bronze conceive,
Till it shall dazzle pilgrim nations
And stammering tribes from undiscovered lands,
Allure the living God out of the bliss,
And all the streaming seraphim from heaven.
[Herod looks at door and sits.
[A murmur of admiration.
That bag of emeralds give it to me—so:
And yonder sack of rubies; I will gaze
On glittering things.
[Sits listlessly, hands down.
Let one of you go forth
And rouse the queen—not roughly be it done—
But rouse her! I would have her waked from sleep.
[A general embarrassment.
Why linger you? Is it not easy? Go you,
Bathsheba, child, and touch her gently—thus.
There is no haste for her to come—I am
Not over-eager, and will wait—but rouse her!
Rouse her—or—go!
[Exit Bathsheba in lingering terror.
Herod again turns to the Court.
Now, sirs, unceasingly
Let all the sounds of building rise to me
By day, by night—and now let anvils clang,
Melodious axes ring through Lebanon,
Masons let me behold so far aloft
They crawl like flies, ant-like artificers,
Swarming with tiny loads, and labourers
Hither and thither murmuring like bees.
Away with inspiration of these words!
[Exeunt Chief Artificers.
Is Bathsheba returned? 'Tis a light task
To rouse a sleeping woman, to awake her.
'Tis all I ask: I'd not compel her here;
I do not ask things out of reason—only
To know that she is waked—to know—to know.

Re-enter Bathsheba, who whispers to Gadias.
Gadias.
O king, the queen is waked!

Herod.
'Tis all I ask.
I am not o'er-impatient. Bathsheba,
[Bathsheba goes trembling up to the King.
Knows she as yet I am returned?

Bath.
O king,
I—I—

Herod.
[Quickly.]
Ah, yes! Speak not—no, speak not, child,
I understand—she has learned it. Bathsheba,
Speak low now, said she anything?

Bath.
O king,
I—I—

Herod.
No matter. No, repeat it not!
I can so well imagine those first words.
But, child, you heard her speak? I ask no more,
You heard the sound of spoken words?

Bath.
O king—

Herod.
You heard her—yes—it is enough; but I—

Salome.
Lo! the musicians whom you did command—

Herod.
Touch me not—sister—ah!

Salome.
Forgive me, brother.

Enter Musicians.
Herod.
Music, O music! Now create a land
From lovely chords, that land where we would be;
Where life no longer jars, nor jolts, but glides;
The end may recompense us, but meantime
[Rises and looks at door.]
Too bare, O God, too bare thy universe!
I am so hurt that the half-light seems good
There should be veils between us and the sun.
[Music.
Or why not ever moonlight, ever the moon
With bathing and obliterating beauty?
Now introduce with melody a life
Which we can live, where there is no farewell,
Nor any death, but—

[He looks towards the door again, rises and sits again.
Salome.
Listen, brother, listen.

[They play soft music before the King; after a while he starts up, he is soothed for a moment.
Herod.
Bathsheba, go again and ask the queen
To come to me.
[A movement and murmur.
I am not mad! Look not
So wildly!

[Herod rises. Music stops.
Herod.
Say to her I have been patient,
I have been very patient. [Moves down.]
Ask of her.
That for the sake of that one night when I,
[Taking Bathsheba by the arm.
Catching her thus, burst thro' the robber swords,
And she feared not, but looked up in my eyes,
That she will come to me when she hath robed.
[Beating his hands gently together.
But oh, oh, she must come!

Phys.
O king, the minstrel
That singeth to the dulcimer—

Herod.
[Puts the Physician aside.]
[To Bathsheba.]
Say to her
I have guessed sweet messages, fond brevities,
But you, so young, know that the sight is much.

Gadias.
Go, child, and bid the queen to robe and come.

Herod.
I have been very patient.

Salome.
Lo, the minstrel!
O listen, brother, listen.

[The Boy sings to a dulcimer, but as the last notes die away, the King rises slowly.
Herod.
I have a fear!

Gadias.
Will you not make, O king,
Some gift to the sweet singer?

Herod.
Take this ruby.
Re-enter Bathsheba, who whispers to Gadias.
Ah, she will come?

Gadias.
The queen but waits to robe her
And she will come.

Herod.
[Sits.]
Why doth the child for ever
Pour in your ear the tale which you repeat?
And you, Gadias, think you not the king
That is to come, might with pure gentleness
Found such a kingdom as no sword could make?

Gadias.
O king, a folly!

Herod.
Is it—is it? Ah!
The queen! She comes not yet—and oh, Gadias—
Oh, if she cannot come!

Gadias.
Cannot!

Herod.
I say
Cannot! She would—she hath forgiven all.
Yet cannot traverse with her feet those yards
That separate us. If she would—but cannot!
I tell you we are fooled by the eye, the ear,
These organs muffle us from that real world
That lies about us, we are duped by brightness.
The ear, the eye doth make us deaf and blind;
Else should we be aware of all our dead,
Who pass above us, through us and beneath us.
[Recovering.
O little Bathsheba [She moves down.]
how beautiful
You seem—for you have twice gone in to her
And twice come back. I have a fear.

[Rises wildly.
Phys.
O king!

Enter at a sign from Physician a troop of Dancing Girls who perform a slow, elaborate dance; but at its height, and when the movements are growing furious, suddenly the King is seen in the midst, unkempt, ragged, and scattering the Dancers.
Herod.
Mariamne!

Gadias.
[To Physician.]
Now, what's best? Quickly devise.

Herod.
Mariamne! Mariamne!

A Councillor.
[To Physician.]
Now Judæa
Hangs on thy wit.

Phys.
Myself am crazed almost.

Herod.
Mariamne, Mariamne, Mariamne,
Come, come!

[He rushes up the gallery to the door, at which he casts himself, sinking exhausted on steps. Amid the consternation, Bathsheba goes up, and taking his hand, leads him gently down like a child until he again sits on the throne.
Cypros
[Placing her hands on his shoulders.]
My child,
I bore thee 'neath a wild moon by the sea.

[Herod puts Cypros's hands gently away.
Gadias.
O Herod, thou art royal, rise and reign.

Herod.
[Recovering himself.]
I had forgotten! I am still a king!
Bring me my crown, and set it on my head.

[Gadias puts his crown on his head.
Gadias.
All hail! all hail! Herod, king of the Jews!

[Court repeat the cries.
Herod.
Bring forth the purple robe and vest me in it.
[Cup-bearer brings his robe. They crown and robe him.]
Summon the queen, and on the instant: I'll
Not tarry for long robe or ornament.
Councillors, captains, priests! Is there delay?
Look on me and look well! Am I that Herod
That ere the beard was on me, burned up cities,
That fired the robbers out of Galilee?
That shook the Parthian and left him dead,
Blew like a blast away the Arabian,
Who grappled to my side great Antony,
And after bound Augustus as my friend?

The Court.
Herod, Herod, Herod!

Herod.
[Through murmur.]
Am I that Herod
Who builded yonder amphitheatre
Rivalling Rome? who lured into these ports
Wealth of the world, a Temple have conceived
That shall dispyramid the Egyptian kings?
That so have lived, wrought, suffered, battled, loved?
I have outspanned life and the worm of God,
Imagining I am already dead
Begins to prey on me. Am I that Herod?
[Cries of ‘Herod, Herod, Herod!’
Then on the instant let the queen be brought.
I'll see her with my eyes in flesh and blood;
Oh, nothing yet hath stopped me: to my will
No limit hath been set. Summon the queen,
Or I will call not earthly vengeance down.
I have exhausted earth, I'll fetch the lightning
And call on thunder like an emperor!
[Moves down.
And henceforth I discard Augustus's aid;
I'll bribe Jehovah as my new ally,
Flatter the Holy One to be my friend—
I'll—I'll—I'll—
[Falls back into Physician's arms.
If you would avert a doom
Unheard, unthinkable—summon the queen!

Phys.
There is no other way.

Gadias.
[To Attendant.]
You then go forth
And bring the queen with ceremony in.

[Exeunt Attendants. After a pause Herod again starts up.
Herod
[Standing.]
Why, if I am denied the sight of her,
If there hath been mischance to her—I say not
There hath been—yet so fineless is my will,
I'll recreate her out of endless yearning,
And flesh shall cleave to bone, and blood shall run.
Do I not know her, every vein? Can I
Not imitate in furious ecstasy
What God hath coldly made? I'll re-create
My love with bone for bone and vein for vein.
The eyes, the eyes again, the hands, the hair,
And that which I have made, O that shall love me.

[With arms extended towards door, he throws himself on throne. He

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126

buries his head in anguish. Steps are heard and the embalmed Queen is carried in and laid at the foot of the throne. There is a pause of pained expectancy. Herod slowly raises his face and descends. He touches her on the forehead and stands suddenly rigid with a fixed and vacant stare.
Phys.
He is stricken, and in catalepsy bound.

[Trumpets are heard.
A Cry.
From Rome, from Rome, way for the messengers
From Rome; on Cæsar's business. Make a path
For Cæsar envoys! Way there!

Knock. Enter Envoys, who make obeisance to Herod.
First E.
Cæsar, O king,
Confers on thee the kingdom of Arabia,
On thee and on thy heirs. What Herod's sword
Hath won, let Herod's wisdom pacify!
'Tis Cæsar's pleasure; and with this he sends
A sceptre all inlaid with western gems,
The symbol of this added sovereignty.

[Herod remains motionless.
Gadias.
The king is stricken, and can stir not, sirs.

First E.
O thou Judæa! O thou frozen land!

Second E.
O thou mute East!

Third E.
Motionless Orient!

The Court.
All hail, O hail, Herod! Herod, all hail!

Salome.
[To Physician]
O lives there any hope for him at last?

Phys.
Rest, and a world of leaves, and stealing stream
Or solemn swoon of music may allure
Homeward the ranging spirit of the king.
These things avail: but these things are of man.
To me indeed it seems, who with dim eyes
Behold this Herod motionless and mute,
To me it seems that they who grasp the world,
The kingdom and the power and the glory,
Must pay with deepest misery of spirit,
Atoning unto God for a brief brightness,
And ever ransom, like this rigid king,
The outward victory with inward loss.

Ch. Priest.
Now unto Him who brought His people forth
Out of the wilderness, by day a cloud,
By night a pillar of fire; to Him alone,
Look we at last and to no other look we.

[Slowly and silently the whole Court melt away, one or two coming and looking on the King, then departing. Herod is left alone by the litter, standing motionless. The curtain descenas: then rises, and it is night, with a few stars. It descends, and again rises, and now it is the glimmer of dawn which falls upon Herod and Mariamne, he still standing rigid and with fixed stare in the cataleptic trance.