Chapter 12

'This behaviour so incensed Herod, that he very hardly refrained from striking her; when in the heat of their quarrel, there came in a witness, suborned by some of Mariamne's enemies, who accused her to the king of a design to poison him. Herod was now prepared to hear any thing in her prejudice, and immediately ordered her servant to be stretched upon the rack; who in the extremity of his tortures confest, that his mistresses aversion to the king arose from something Sohemus had told her; but as for any design of poisoning, he utterly disowned the least knowledge of it. This confession quickly proved fatal to Sohemus, who now lay under the same suspicions and sentence, that Joseph had before him, on the like occasion. Nor would Herod rest here; but accused her with great vehemence of a design upon his life, and by his authority with the judges had her publickly condemned and executed.

'Herod soon after her decease grew melancholy and dejected, retiring from the public administration of affairs, into a solitary forest, and there abandoned himself to all the black considerations, which naturally arise from a passion made up of love, remorse, pity and despair. He used to rave for his Mariamne, and to call upon her in his distracted fits; and in all probability, would have soon followed her, had not his thoughts been seasonably called off from so sad an object, by public storms, which at that time very nearly threatened him.'

Mr. Fenton in the conduct of this design, has shewn himself a very great master of stage propriety. He has softened the character of Herod, well knowing that so cruel a tyrant as the story makes him, could not be born upon the English stage. He has altered the character of Sohemus, from an honest confident, to a crafty enterprising statesman, who to raise his master to the throne of Judea, murthered the natural heir. He has introduced in his drama, a character under the name of Salome, the king's sister, who bore an implacable hatred to Mariamne; and who in league with Sohemus pursues her revenge, at no less a price than that of her brother's and the queen's life.

After the wars, which had subsided between Cæsar and Anthony, had subsided, and the world fell to the share of the former; Herod is represented as having just returned from Rome, where, as an hostage to the emperor, he has stipulated to send his younger son there, and Flaminius, a noble Roman accompanies him into Jewry, to carry off the young prince. The day in which this dramatic action begins, is upon a grand festival, appointed in honour of Herod's safe return from Rome, and being still permitted to enjoy his kingdom. The hard condition of sending the prince to Rome, greatly affects the heart of the queen, whom the poet has drawn a most tender mother. This throws a cloud over the ceremony, and furnishes an opportunity for Sohemus and Salome, to set their infernal engines at work; who, in conjunction with Sameas the king's cup bearer, contrive to poison the king and queen at the feast. But the poisoned cup is first tasted by Hazeroth, a young lord related to the queen, and the sudden effect which it has upon him discovers the villainy.

The queen's absence from the feast proves a fatal circumstance, and as managed by Sohemus, fixes the appearance of guilt upon her. While Herod was absent at Rome, Sohemus made addresses to Arsinoe, a Roman lady, confidant to Mariamne; to whom in the ardour of his passion he revealed the secret entrusted to him by Herod, of putting Mariamne to death, in case he by any calamitous accident should lose his life. Arsinoe from a motive of affection communicated this to Mariamne; as an instance of the violent passion which Herod had for her. This she did immediately before her departure for Rome, with Flaminius the Roman envoy, who proved to be the lord of her wishes, whom she imagined to have been killed in fighting against Mark Anthony. Mariamne thrown into this imminent danger, orders Arsinoe to be intercepted, whose return clears up her innocence, as she declares that no correspondence had ever been carried on between the queen and Sohemus, of whom he was now jealous, as Mariamne had upbraided him with his cruel resolutions of putting her to death, entrusted to that minister. Herod is satisfied of her innocence, by the evidence of Arsinoe; but as he had before given the cruel orders for patting the queen to death, she, to prevent the execution of such barbarity, drank poison. The Queen is conducted in by the high priest in the agonies of death, which gives such a shock to Herod, that not able to survive her, he dies in the sight of the audience.

Sohemus, who knew what tortures would be reserved for him, kills himself, after having sacrificed Sameas, by whose treachery the plot was discovered, and who in his falling stabs Salome to the heart, as the last effort of his revenge.

As the plan of this play is regular, simple, and interesting, so are the sentiments no less masterly, and the characters graphically distinguished. It contains likewise many beautiful strokes of poetry.

When Narbal, a lord of the queen's party, gives an account to Flaminius the Roman general, of the queen's parting with her son; he says,

----A while she stood, Transform'd by grief to marble, and appear'd Her own pale monument;

Flaminius consistent with his character as a soldier, answers,

Give me, ye gods! the harmony of war, The trumpet's clangor, and the clash of arms, That concert animates the glowing breast, To rush on death; but when our ear is pierc'd With the sad notes which mournful beauty yields; Our manhood melts in symphathising tears.

The character of Sameas the king's cup-bearer, is one of the most villainous ever shewn upon a stage; and the poet makes Sohemus, in order to give the audience a true idea of him, and to prepare them for those barbarities he is to execute, relate the following instance of his cruelty.

----Along the shore He walk'd one evening, when the clam'rous rage Of tempests wreck'd a ship: The crew were sunk, The master only reach'd the neighb'ring strand, Born by a floating fragment; but so weak With combating the storm, his tongue had lost The faculty of speech, and yet for aid He faintly wav'd his hand, on which he wore A fatal jewel. Sameas, quickly charm'd Both by its size, and lustre, with a look Of pity stoop'd, to take him by the hand; Then cut the finger off to gain the ring, And plung'd him back to perish in the waves; Crying, go dive for more.--I've heard him boast Of this adventure.

In the 5th act, when Herod is agitated with the rage of jealousy, his brother Pheroras thus addresses him,

Sir, let her crime Erase the faithful characters which love Imprinted on your heart,

HEROD. Alas! the pain We feel, whene'er we dispossess the soul Of that tormenting tyrant, far exceeds The rigour of his rule.

PHERORAS. With reason quell That haughty passion; treat it as your slave: Resume the monarch.

The observation, which Herod makes upon this, is very affecting. The poet has drawn him so tortured with his passion, that he seems almost sufficiently punished, for the barbarity of cutting off the father and brother of Mariamne,

HEROD. Where's the monarch now? The vulgar call us gods, and fondly think That kings are cast in more than mortal molds; Alas! they little know that when the mind Is cloy'd with pomp, our taste is pall'd to joy; But grows more sensible of grief or pain. The stupid peasant with as quick a sense Enjoys the fragrance of a rose, as I; And his rough hand is proof against the thorn, Which rankling in my tender skin, would seem A viper's tooth. Oh blissful poverty! Nature, too partial! to thy lot assigns Health, freedom, innocence, and downy peace, Her real goods; and only mocks the great With empty pageantries! Had I been born A cottager, my homely bowl had flow'd Secure from pois'nous drugs; but not my wife! Let me, good heav'n! forget that guilty name, Or madness will ensue.

Some critics have blamed Mariamne, for yielding her affections to Herod, who had embrued his hands in her father and brother's blood; in this perhaps she cannot be easily defended, but the poet had a right to represent this as he literally found it in history; and being the circumstance upon which all the others depended. Tho' this play is one of the most beautiful in our language, yet it is in many places exposed to just criticism; but as it has more beauties than faults, it would be a kind of violence to candour to shew the blemishes.

The life of Fenton, like other poets who have never been engaged in public business, being barren of incidents, we have dwelt the longer on his works, a tribute which his genius naturally demanded from us.

Mr. Fenton's other poetical works were published in one volume 1717, and consist chiefly of the following pieces.

An Ode to the Sun, for the new year 1707, as a specimen of which we shall quote the three following stanza's.

I.

Begin celestial source of light, To gild the new revolving sphere; And from the pregnant womb of night; Urge on to birth the infant year. Rich with auspicious lustre rife, Thou fairest regent of the skies, Conspicuous with thy silver bow! To thee, a god, 'twas given by Jove To rule the radiant orbs above, To Gloriana this below.

II.

With joy renew thy destin'd race, And let the mighty months begin: Let no ill omen cloud thy face, Thro' all thy circle smile serene. While the stern ministers of fate Watchful o'er the pale Lutetia wait. To grieve the Gaul's perfidious head; The hours, thy offspring heav'nly fair, Their whitest wings should ever wear, And gentle joys on Albion shed.

III.

When Ilia bore the future fates of Rome, And the long honours of her race began, Thus, to prepare the graceful age to come, They from thy stores in happy order ran. Heroes elected to the list of fame, Fix'd the sure columns of her rising state: Till the loud triumphs of the Julian name Render'd the glories of her reign compleat, Each year advanc'd a rival to the rest, In comely spoils of war, and great achievements drest.

Florelio, a Pastoral, lamenting the death of the marquis of Blandford.

Part of the fourteenth chapter of Isaiah Paraphrased. Verses on the Union.

Cupid and Hymen.

Olivia, a small Poem of humour against a Prude.

The fair Nun, a Tale.

An Epistle addressed to Mr. Southern, written in the year 1711.

The eleventh Book of Homer's Odyssey, translated in Milton's stile.

The Widow's Will; a Tale.

A-La-Mode, a very humorous representation of a fond, doating Husband, injured by his Wife.

Sappho to Phaon. A Love Epistle, translated from Ovid.

Phaon to Sappho.

A Tale devised in the pleasant manner of Chaucer; in which the Poet imitates that venerable old Bard, in the obsolete Language of his Verse.

Verses addressed to Mr. Pope.

The Platonic Spell.

Marullus de Neæra.

Marullus imitated.

Joannis Secundi Basium I.

Kisses. Translated from Secundus. I know not if all poetry ever exceeded the smoothness and delicacy of those lines. They flow with an irresistable enchantment, and as the inserting them will shew the spirit both of the original and translation, we shall make no further apology for doing it.

When Venus, in the sweet Idalian shade, A violet couch for young Ascanius made; Their op'ning gems, th' obedient roses bow'd And veil'd his beauties with a damask cloud: While the bright goddess with a gentle show'r, Of nectar'd dews, perfum'd the blissful bow'r; Of sight insatiate, she devours his charms. Till her soft breast re-kindling ardour warms: New joys tumultuous in her bosom rowl, And all Adonis rusheth on her soul. Transported with each dear resembling grace, She cries, Adonis!--Sure I see thy face! Then stoops to clasp the beauteous form, but fears He'd wake too soon, and with a sigh forbears; Yet, fix'd in silent rapture, stands to gaze, Kissing each flow'ring bud that round him plays. Swell'd with the touch, each animated rose Expands; and strait with warmer purple glows: Where infant kisses bloom, a balmy store! Redoubling all the bliss she felt before. Sudden, her swans career along the skies, And o'er the globe the fair celestial flies. Then, as where Ceres pass'd, the teeming plain, Yellow'd with wavy crops of golden grain; So fruitful kisses fell where Venus flew; And by the power of genial magic grew: A plenteous harvest! which she deign'd t'impart To sooth an agonizing love-sick heart. All hail, ye Roseat kisses! who remove Our cares, and cool the calenture of love. Lo! I your poet in melodious lays, Bless your kind pow'r; enamour'd of your praise: Lays! form'd to last, 'till barb'rous time invades The muses hill, and withers all their shades. Sprung from the Guardian[B] of the Roman name, In Roman numbers live secure of fame.

Joannis Secundi Basum IId. translated.

An Epistle to Thomas Lambard Esq;

An Ode to the right hon. John lord Gower.

An EPITAPH

On Mr. ELIJAH FENTON,

At EAST-HAMPSTEAD in BERKS, 1730.

This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, May truly say, here lies an honest man: A Poet, bless'd beyond a Poet's fate, Whom Heav'n kept sacred from the proud and great: Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear; From nature's temp'rate feast rose satisfy'd Thank'd Heav'n, that he had liv'd, and that he died.

[Footnote A: See Jacob, p. 55.]

[Footnote B: Venus.]

* * * * *

BARTON BOOTH, Esq;

It[A] is but justice to the memory of this great actor to give him a place among the poets, if he had been less considerable in that province than he really was; for he appears early to have understood the Latin classics, and to have succeeded in occasional pieces, and little odes, beyond many persons of higher name in poetry. Mr. Booth was descended from a very ancient, and honourable family, originally seated in the County Palatine of Lancaster. His father, John Booth, esq; was a man of great worth and honour; and though his fortune was not very considerable, he was extremely attentive to the education of his children, of whom Barton (the third) was born in 1681.

When about nine years of age, he was put under the tuition of the famous Dr. Busby, head-master of Westminster school, under whom some of the ablest men have been educated, that in the last and present age have done honour to the nation. The sprightliness of Booth's parts early recommended him to the notice of Dr. Busby: he had a strong passion for learning, and a peculiar turn for Latin poetry, and by studying the best authors in it, he fixed many of the finest passages so firmly in his memory, that he was able to repeat them with such propriety, and graceful action, with so fine a tone of voice, and peculiar emphasis, that it was taken notice of by the whole school.

In consequence of this happy talent, when, according to the custom of the school, a Latin play was to be acted, a considerable part thereof was given to young Booth, who drew by the melody of his voice, and the gracefulness of his action, the applause of all the spectators, a circumstance which first fired him with theatrical ambition, much against the inclination of his father, who intended him for the church, and was therefore careful of his education. This propension in our young Roscius, recommended him still more to the favour of Dr. Busby, who bestowed the most lavish encomiums upon him: Busby was himself a great admirer of theatrical elocution, and admirably fitted by nature for the stage; when he was young, he obtained great applause in a part he performed in a play of Cartwright's, and from that moment held theatrical accomplishments in the highest esteem.

When Booth had reached the age of eighteen, and the time approached when he was to have been sent to the university, he resolved to run any risk, rather than enter upon a course of life inconsistent with the liveliness of his temper, and the natural bent of his inclinations. It happened that there was then in London one Mr. Ashbury, who had been long master of a company at Dublin, with whom young Booth became acquainted, and finding that under his direction there was no danger of his getting a livelihood, he quitted all other views, stole away from school, and went over to Ireland with Mr. Ashbury in 1698.[B]

He very soon distinguished himself on the stage at Dublin, where he had great natural advantages over most of his cotemporaries, especially in tragedy; he had a grave countenance, a good person, an air of dignity, a melodious voice, and a very manly action. He spoke justly, his cadence was grateful to the ear, and his pronunciation was scholastically correct and proper. He so far insinuated himself into the favour of English gentlemen in Ireland, and found his reputation growing to so great a heighth, that he returned home in 1701, to make a trial of his talents on the British stage. He accordingly applied to lord Fitzharding, of the bedchamber to Prince George of Denmark, and was by him recommended to Mr. Betterton, who took him under his care, and gave him all the assistance in his power, of which Mr. Booth greatly profited.

Never were a tutor and pupil better met; the one was capable of giving the best instructions in his own performance, and the other had a promptness of conception, a violent propensity, and a great genius. The first part Booth performed in London was Maximus in Valentinian, a play of Beaumont and Fletcher's originally, but altered, and brought upon the stage by the earl of Rochester. The reception he met with exceeded his warmest hopes, and the favour of the town had a happy effect upon him, in inspiring him with a proper degree of confidence without vanity. The Ambitious Step-mother, a tragedy written by Mr. Rowe, in which that author has thrown out more fire, and heat of poetry, than in any other of his plays, was about this time introduced upon the stage; the part of Artaban was assigned to Booth, in which he raised his character to such a heighth, as to be reckoned only second to his great master.

In the year 1704 he married Miss Barkham, daughter to Sir William Barkham of Norfolk, bart. who lived with him six years, and died without issue. In the theatrical revolutions which happened in those days, Mr. Booth, notwithstanding his great capacity, and reputation with the town, had very little share. He adhered constantly to Mr. Betterton, while he could be of any service to him, and when his tutor retired from the management of the stage, he trusted to his merit, and the taste of the public, in which he was never deceived.

Mr. Booth was particularly turned for tragedy, he never could bear those parts which had not strong passion to inspire him; and Mr. Cibber observes, that he could not so well melt in the lover, as rage in the jealous husband. Othello was his master-piece, but in all his parts he was often subject to a kind of indolence, which some people imagined he affected, to shew that even in his lazy fits he was superior to every body upon the stage; _as if secure of all beholders hearts, neglecting he could take them._[C] The late ingenious Mr. Whitingham, who perfectly understood theatrical excellence, and who was, beyond any man I ever knew, distinct, and accurate in his relations of things, often told me, that such was the dignity of Booth's appearance, such his theatrical ease, and gracefulness, that had he only crossed the stage without uttering a word, the house would be in a roar of applause.

We come now to that period of time, when Mr. Booth's sole merit raised him to the greatest height, and procured for him that reward he had long deserved. The tragedy of Cato, which had been written in the year 1703, or at least four acts of it, was brought upon the stage in 1712, chiefly on a political principle; the part of Cato was given to Booth, for the managers were very well satisfied that nobody else could perform it. As party prejudice never than higher than at that time, the excellency of the play was distinguished by the surprizing contests between both factions, which should applaud it most, so the merit of the actor received the same marks of approbation, both parties taking care to shew their satisfaction, by bestowing upon him, most liberal presents, the particulars of which are already inserted in the life of Addison. The run of Cato being over at London, the managers thought fit to remove to Oxford in the summer, where the play met with so extraordinary a reception, that they were forced to open the doors at noon, and the house was quite full by one o'clock. The same respect was paid it for three days together, and though the universal applause it met with at London, surpassed any thing that had been remembered of that kind, yet the tribute of praise it received from this famous university, surpassed even that. Booth, whose reputation was now at its heighth, took the advantage of it, and making his application to lord Bolingbroke, then at the head of the ministry, he procured a new licence, recalling all former ones, and Mr. Booth's name was added to those of Cibber, Dogget, and Wilks. Tho' none of the managers had occasion to be pleased with this act of justice done to Booth's merit, at the expence of, what they deemed, their property, yet none of them carried their resentment so high as Mr. Dogget, who absolutely refused to accept of any consideration for his share in the scenes and clothes; this obstinacy had however no other effect, than depriving him of his share, which brought him in 1000 l. a year; though Mr. Cibber informs us, that this was only a pretence, and that the true reason of quitting the stage, was, his dislike to another of the managers, whose humour was become insupportable. This person we conjecture to have been Mr. Wilks, who, according to Cibber's account, was capricious in his temper, though he had otherwise great merit as a player, and was a good man, morally considered; some instances of the generosity and noble spirit of Wilks, are taken notice of in the life of Farquhar.

A few years after Mr. Booth rose to the dignity of manager, he married the celebrated Miss Santlowe, who, from her first appearance as an actress in the character of the Fair Quaker of Deal, to the time she quitted the stage, had always received the strongest marks of public applause, which were repeated when after a retreat of some years, she appeared there again. By her prudence in managing the advantages that arose to her from her reputation as an actress, and her great diligence in her profession, she acquired a considerable fortune, which was very useful to Mr. Booth, who, from the natural turn of his temper, though he had a strict regard to justice, was not much inclined to saving.