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Elizabeth CaryA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Mariam begins with a soliloquy, saying she has long recognized Herod’s hypocrisy—for instance, in feigning sorrow when Pompey died, yet complaining of his importance when he was alive. Believing Herod has been executed in Rome, she confesses that she is unsure whether to feel sorrow or joy. She simultaneously condemns him for the atrocities he has committed and desires to forgive him for them. Mariam comments that her inner emotional struggle is a result of her being a woman. She believes the tears Herod wept for his perceived adversary, whom he killed, were indeed honest. In fact, she thinks Herod is always sincere, both when he is being kind and gentle and when he is being harsh and cruel.
Mariam reflects on how often in the past she wished that Herod were indeed dead. She muses that the rage and scorn she felt toward him caused her to push aside the love she felt for him in her heart. Now, because of the evil he has done, she can't bring herself to embrace that deep love again. She explains that Herod restricted her movements; before this she had never imagined being apart from him, but once he inhibited her freedom, all she could think about was getting away. Though his jealousy destroyed her love, she says she cannot bring herself to love another.
Mariam discusses the irony of grieving for Herod when she should really be mourning her brother, Aristobolus, whom she praises as an angel in bodily form. She wonders how she could possibly mourn for Herod when she considers the worthiness and the beauty of the brother Herod murdered. To make matters worse, she knows Herod killed Aristobolus strictly to ascend to the Judean throne. Further compounding Herod’s atrocity is the casual willingness of Sohemus to kill her at Herod’s bequest, even as Sohemus professes sorrow for her because of everything she has endured. She broods on the reality that her life and Herod’s are yoked; if he lives, she lives, and if he dies, she dies. Even knowing this, Mariam hopes that the rumors of Herod’s death are true.
Mariam returns to the irony that she is grieving for a man she wanted to see dead. In theory, she notes, she owes him a great deal; when Herod ascended to the Judean throne, it made her Queen. She says, however, she would rather be a milkmaid, on account of having to be with Herod. She acknowledges that it is because of his passion for her that he doesn’t want her to survive him, and she says she would rather be enemy than friend “[t]o him that saves for hate, and kills for love” (1.1.61). She calls herself hard-hearted for the feelings she has for Herod.
Alexandra, Mariam's mother, catches her crying. She asks why Mariam would weep over Herod's death, since he killed her brother, and pronounces a curse upon Herod, wishing for his death. She calls him an Edomite and compares him to Esau, meaning that he is not a true Jew and should not be a king. She sees it as an insult that he holds the throne King David held and says his presence on the throne even makes the biblical figure Abraham ashamed. She chastises Mariam, saying her tears for Herod compound his slaying of her brother.
Alexandra turns her attention to the way Herod murdered Mariam's grandfather—Alexandra’s father, Hircanus. Mariam's grandfather was a true Hebrew who trusted Herod and was betrayed by him. Alexandra says that the true birthright of Herod is Hell, and that he is like his ancestor Esau in selling his birthright. She describes the way Herod killed her son and father, saying he deprived her of sire and son.
Alexandra wonders if Mariam thinks Herod killed for her sake and as proof of his love; in reality, she says, his actions demonstrate only hate. When he killed Alexandra’s father, he made her son the king. Yet before he could officially take the throne, Herod had him killed as well. Alexandra points out that because her father and her son had the royal right to the throne, the only thing that made Herod next in line was his marriage to Mariam. She asks Mariam to describe what it is about Herod that makes her think he loves her. Alexandra says it is not love but lunacy he expresses, and that sometimes he feigns acts of love toward Mariam. Indeed, she says, he hates all of Mariam’s family. Alexandra warns that in order to cement his family’s claim to the throne, Herod will go back to his first wife Doris and execute Mariam.
Mariam contradicts her mother, arguing that Herod ceased loving Doris long ago and gives no consideration to the sons he sired by her. He expressed the desire to place Mariam’s own son Alexander on “the Majesticke seat of Salamon” (1.2.63).
Alexandra asks why Herod would want Alexander to be king. She describes the lineage of Mariam’s family, pointing out that they are the rightful heirs to the Jewish throne, and that Herod is a pretender who has neither the right to be king nor to establish anyone else as king. She tells Mariam she should be happy now that Herod is dead. Otherwise, Felicitie (the goddess of happiness) will think she is not welcome with Mariam and may leave and never return.
Alexandra describes her own long pursuit of happiness by recounting how she tried in vain to sway the affection of Anthony toward Mariam. If he had paid real attention to Mariam’s beauty, she muses, Anthony would have chosen Mariam rather than Cleopatra as his lover and made her empress of Rome. Mariam replies that she would not have wanted to be the empress if it meant she had to behave as Cleopatra did; her desire is to live a pure life all the way to the tomb.
The scene ends with Alexandra counseling Mariam to make wise decisions about her next moves in light of Herod’s assumed death.
Salome, Herod’s sister, confronts Mariam and Alexandra. She accuses them of plotting for Mariam to acquire a new husband and king. She says they must be quite happy, since their greatest desire was Herod’s death.
Alexandra contradicts Salome, asserting that Herod was not a legitimate king, whereas Mariam both before and after her union with Herod was truly royal. If she is happy now, Alexandra insists, she has good reason to be.
Salome says Alexandra is only speaking so frankly because she thinks Herod is dead. Mariam’s best course of action, she insists, is always to be married to Herod. In response, Mariam scorns Salome, saying that her housemaids were superior to Salome even before she became Queen of Judea. Salome returns the insult, saying she feels nothing but scorn for Mariam.
Mariam intensifies the conflict, proclaiming that she was born a princess. Salome, she points out, is half Jewish and half Edomite. She calls her a “mongrel” whose ancestors resisted God, who cursed them and will curse her. Salome mocks Mariam, saying she has no real criticism of her beyond the accidents of their birth. Both of them, she reminds her, are children of dust descended from Adam, and both are from the bloodline of Abraham.
Mariam hints that there is much greater darkness around Salome she could mention, but she says she will not sully herself with it beyond suggesting that Salome has lived a wicked life and was complicit in a husband’s death. In response, Salome proudly acknowledges her responsibility for the death of Josephus, whom she calls a traitor. Mariam says Salome doesn’t sense the gravity of the evil she has committed. She recalls that it was Salome who told Herod that Josephus had revealed his orders to kill Mariam. She did this not to protect Herod or punish Josephus, but rather to advance her own position.
Alexandra ushers Mariam away from Salome, quipping that there is no benefit for the head to argue with the foot.
Left alone on stage, Salome ponders Alexandra’s insult, wondering if she has indeed sunk so low as to be merely a foot compared to Mariam. She reflects on how Herod’s assumed death has sundered their lives.
Though Salome is grieving her brother’s death, she confesses that she cannot contain the love she feels for Silleus for long. Her soliloquy discusses three relationships: her passionate love for the Arab prince Silleus, her current marriage to Constabarus (whom she has come to detest), and her ill-fated relationship to her uncle and first husband Josephus, whose death she instigated. She worries that her history disqualifies her from being the wife of Silleus, then demands that she stop questioning herself; her questionable actions happened in the past, and it is too late to worry now about living an honorable life.
Salome acknowledges that she has forsaken shame and honor for impudence. She says she lives by her wits alone. Her one goal now is to be with Silleus, and her marriage to Constabarus stands in the way. If her husband hates her as much as she hates him, she muses, he should be ready to divorce her—a privilege that belongs only to men. She asks why that is the case, and whether men are more loved in Heaven, or simply more capable of hating than women. Her plan is to use a bribe to evade the legal bar against women divorcing, saying, “The lawe was made for none but who are poore” (1.4.52). Assuming that Herod is dead, Salome plans to go to the new king of Judea and accuse Constabarus of secretly harboring and protecting the two sons of Babus, whom Herod sentenced to death 12 years earlier. She rues the fact that she previously begged Herod to spare the life of Constabarus.
Throughout her speech, Salome has been waiting for Silleus, and now at last she sees him approaching.
Silleus approaches Salome and asks if she has created a plan that will enable them to be together. She responds that she has a plan with which she is not content, but she believes it will work. She explains the Jewish law allowing men but not women to divorce, saying she knows how to circumvent that restriction. She wants Silleus to support her efforts.
Silleus asks Salome if she truly thinks he would interfere with her plan. His desire to be with her, he says, will overlook any wrong she might commit. He consecrates himself and his claims on any Arabian land to her. Salome responds that she isn’t interested in his empire and would not travel with him to his homeland if she didn’t love him so passionately. Silleus says he understands the depths of her love and the claim it makes upon her.
Salome sees her husband Constabarus approaching and tells Silleus to walk away casually. As he leaves, Silleus says he is only departing because she has requested it.
Constabarus confronts Salome with her shamelessness, saying he has often seen her with Silleus. Recalling how much support she once gave him, Constabarus says she is a greater scourge to him now than she was a benefit before. Her illicit behavior, he says, is a curse for him as well; he paraphrases the words of King Solomon from Proverbs 31, saying that a husband is blessed by a virtuous wife. Nevertheless, he continues to love her.
Salome reminds Constabarus that she did him a great favor by embracing him when his fortunes were low, saying she did not lift him up so he could upbraid her now. She reminds him that she knows he is harboring the sons of Babus, whom he was ordered to execute. Thus, she holds his fate in her hands.
Constabarus chides her for testing his patience. He warns her to change her attitude; he means her good and not ill, and his only desire is for her to stop being a disgrace. Salome responds by expressing her desire to break all ties with him. His pronouncement of affection only makes her hate him more, she says. She intends to divorce him as soon as possible—even before she goes to bed.
Constabarus sarcastically asks if Salome has become a man to be thinking of divorce. He asks if she’s capable of doing a man’s duty—fighting wars and wearing armor—and wonders if the whole world is now turning upside down. Salome responds that he should save his skepticism until it’s time to deal with the divorce. She might be the first woman to seek a divorce, but she certainly won’t be the last.
Constabarus confronts her with the Jewish faith they are supposed to share. He asks her why she has chosen to follow a sinful course of action rather than the angelic pathway, which he describes as capable of producing miracles. He argues that she is the first woman in 1,400 years to seek a divorce. Salome simply responds that she is determined to set a new precedent: “My will shall be to me in stead of Law” (1.6.81).
Warning her that she is making a mistake, Constabarus says that Silleus will regret his liaison with Salome. He reminds her of how she abandoned Josephus for Constabarus himself, saying she is now doing the same to him and in time will do the same to Silleus. Telling Constabarus he never deserved her love, Salome insists any affection she felt for him was inconsequential. Certainly, she says, she detests him more now than she ever loved him. Salome then leaves.
In an aside, Constabarus asks divine forgiveness for his wife. He believes Salome is plotting against him, but also that he will escape her deviousness.
Constabarus muses over the ironic effects of Caesar’s execution of Anthony and, potentially, Herod. Herod’s death would spare some lives while imperiling others. Constabarus knows that Salome is plotting against Mariam, whom he describes as a complete innocent. The great irony, he decides, is that while all Judea knows Salome is wicked and Mariam is pure, this will not save Mariam’s life.
Act I closes with five stanzas sung by a Chorus of Jewish observers. The Chorus describes an individual’s lifelong pursuit of happiness and self-interest, ultimately concluding that attaining that which one seeks will not yield lasting gladness. They contrast self-service with a humble attitude of accepting whatever is meted out, which they say prevents the suffering of unquenched desire. The desire to alter one’s life, they say, “is signe of griefe” and a precursor to a life of unhappiness (1.6.138). The only happy man is the one who is content with his fate.
Focusing their attention on Mariam, the Chorus points out that she wants a change in her life: freedom from Herod. They describe her discontent as “vast imaginations” that cannot be satisfied (1.6.148). They close with an ominous warning that even if Herod were not dead, her fate would still be uncertain; like others in positions of power, she will never be satisfied.
Cary wrote The Tragedy of Mariam primarily in rhymed iambic pentameter, also called sonnet verse. This means the bulk of the dialogue has five accented beats per line with an A-B-A-B rhyme scheme. Famously, Shakespeare wrote primarily in unrhymed pentameter (with occasional prose breaks), but iambic pentameter was also the favored mode of other famous Elizabethan and Jacobean playwrights, including Christopher Marlowe and John Webster. In choosing this style, Cary is therefore claiming equal standing with the male writers of her era.
Nevertheless, it is unlikely Cary wrote The Tragedy of Mariam as a stage play. The numerous lengthy soliloquies, the relative lack of dramatic action (considered a necessity by English playwrights of the 16th and 17th centuries), and the focus upon gender issues make it most probable the play was to be read by individuals or by a circle of close acquaintances.
Also unlike Shakespeare, Cary’s play is devoid of comedy. This does not mean there are no quips or clever word plays; in Act I, Scene 3, Alexandra breaks up an argument between Mariam and Salome by advising her daughter that it is never wise for a head to argue with a foot. However, these moments don’t serve as comic relief or lighten the scene’s mood; Cary wants the reader to know just how serious these matters are.
Cary’s characters are distinctly drawn, so readers know precisely what they are thinking. Every major character also has observable flaws and prejudices, including Mariam. Mariam, however, is one of only two characters in the play who ever expresses ambivalence. She recognizes intellectually that Herod deserves to die for the murders he committed to attain the Judean throne. What’s more, the two men slain were her brother and grandfather. Moreover, she knows that Herod has been on trial twice, and that both times he has charged someone with killing her in the event of his execution. What she cannot understand is why, in light of these realities, she feels such sadness at Herod’s reported death. However, Mariam’s emotions make sense in their historical context. The real Mariam was married to Herod for nine years and gave birth to several children before he committed the murders, and their relationship was universally reported to be mutual and loving.
When Alexandra confronts Mariam for mourning Herod and launches into a condemnation of him, Cary commits an intentional anachronism. Alexandra compares Herod’s evil deeds to the treachery of Judas, whom she describes as profaning the entire Jewish race. Since the execution of Mariam happened in 29 BCE, it’s very likely that Judas Iscariot had not yet been born. Given the sort of precision and attention to detail that mark Cary’s scholarship, this “mistake” is probably intentional, and meant to express the perceived gravity of Herod’s atrocities to a presumed Christian audience.
Scene 3 of Act I is the first of two scenes demonstrating Cary’s ability to express emotional conflict through intense dialogue. Mariam and Salome encounter one another, each feeling profoundly different negative emotions. Their dislike and distrust of one another is palpable from the beginning, though the disgust and fury they express gradually escalates throughout the scene. Cary portrays each of the women as remaining true to her form, Mariam emerging as the haughty Jewish princess who posits herself as naturally worthier than someone she sees as a mixed-race interloper, and Salome as the streetwise schemer who admits to instigating the death of her uncle and husband Josephus.
Scene 4 of Act 1 continues to reveal the depths of Salome, allowing her to engage in a wide-ranging soliloquy. She reflects on the relative powerlessness of women—a condition she has successfully navigated through a series of relationships with powerful men. Saying she grieves for her brother, she nevertheless already has a plan for moving forward: discarding her current husband Constabarus and taking up with the Arab nobleman Silleus. She regards the seeming impossibility of divorce as a minor obstacle, because she has ceased to care about dignity, honor, shame, and the law. Salome understands herself to be a survivor who will do whatever is necessary for her own well-being and advancement. Although Salome claims to be uninterested in Silleus’s lands, her overall character therefore somewhat undercuts this, as well as her professed love for him.
In confronting Salome with shameless behavior, Constabarus reveals his dedication to the Mosaic law of Judaism. While other characters talk about Judea, Constabarus is the only character who is steeped in the rites and intentions of Jewish life and law. His attempts to stir a sense of decency within Salome reflect his perceptions of right and wrong within the Talmudic code. To Constabarus, Salome’s desire for a divorce represents an overturning of law and nature; his perspective is that women and men have their rightful roles and that exchanging them is unnatural. This likely is a perception Cary encountered frequently from the significant men in her life, given that her own status as a literary, religious, and scholastic pioneer flouted the era’s gender norms.
As he watches Salome depart, Constabarus reveals that he knows exactly the sort of person she is. However, in saying he believes he will escape Josephus’s fate, Constabarus makes an ironic, fatal miscalculation.
The Act closes with a recitation comprised of iambic stanzas. Following most acts in the play, Cary has the Chorus speak six stanzas of six lines each. Following Act I, however, she begins with a single 12-line stanza, followed by five stanzas of six lines. This could have been intentional on her part, or it could be a corruption of her original text. Regardless, her use of the Chorus is creative in several ways. First, it suggests the play is meant to emulate ancient Greek and Roman theater, like the Senecan revenge tragedies. Her use of Jewish singers, while appropriate to the subject matter, is unique.
The play further departs from literary convention by not focusing primarily on a protagonist. While Mariam is the namesake of the drama, she appears in only two of the five acts. Salome, the antagonist, appears prominently in four of the five acts. Herod appears in only Act IV and Act V, but so dominates them that he could be considered the play’s main character. Mariam’s relative invisibility in her own play is perhaps a statement about the limited agency society affords women—especially those who, like Mariam, generally conform to societal expectations.