Browning and His Century

by Helen A. Clarke

Important as the Reform Bill was, it furnished no such picturesque episodes for a dramatist as did the struggle of Pym and Strafford under the despotic rule of King Charles I.

In choosing this period for his play the poet found not only material which furnished to his hand a series of wonderfully dramatic situations, but in the three men about whom the action moves is presented an individuality and a contrast in character full of those possibilities for analysis so attractive to Browning’s mind.

Another point to be gained by taking this remote period of history was that his attitude could be supremely that of the philosopher of history. He could portray with fairness whatever worth of character he found to admire in the leaders upon either side, at the same time that he could show which possessed the winning principle—the principle of progress. In dealing with contemporary events a strong personal feeling is sure to gain the upper hand, and to be non-partisan and therefore truly dramatic is a difficult, if not an impossible, task. When we come to examine this play, we find that the character which unquestionably interested the poet most was Strafford’s; not because of his political principles but because of his devotion to his King. Human love and loyalty in whomever manifested was always of the supremest interest to Browning, and, working upon any hints furnished by history, the poet has developed the character of Strafford in the light of his personal friendship for the King—a feeling so powerful that no fickle change of mood on the part of the King could alter it. Upon this fact of his personal relations to the King Strafford’s actions in this great crisis have been interpreted and explained, though not defended, from the political point of view.

Some wavering on the part of Pym is also explained upon the ground of his friendship for and his belief in Strafford, but mark the difference between the two men. Pym, once sure that Strafford is not on the side of progress, crushes out all personal feeling. He allows nothing to stand in the way of his political policy. With unflinching purpose he proceeds against his former friend, straight on to the impeachment for treason, straight on, like an inexorable fate, to the prevention of his rescue from execution. Browning’s dramatic imagination is responsible for this last climax in which he brings the two men face to face. Here, in Pym’s strength of will to serve England at any cost, mingled with the hope of meeting Strafford purged of all his errors in a future life, and in Strafford’s response, “When we meet, Pym, I’d be set right—not now! Best die,” is foreshadowed the ultimate triumph of the parliamentary over the monarchical principles of government, and the poet’s own sympathy with the party of progress is made plain.

It is interesting in the present connection to inquire whether there are any parallels between the agitation connected with the reform legislation of 1832 and the revolution at the time of Charles I which might send Browning’s mind back to that period. The special point about which the battle raged in 1832 was the representation in Parliament. This was so irregular that it was absolutely unfair. In many instances large districts or towns would have fewer representatives than smaller ones, or perhaps none at all. Representation was more a matter of favoritism than of justice. The votes in Parliament were, therefore, not at all a true measure of the attitude of the country. It seems strange that so eminently sensible a reform should meet with such determined opposition. As usual, those in power feared loss of privilege. The House of Lords was the obstruction. The bill was in fact a step logically following upon the determination of the people of the time of Charles I that they would not submit to be levied upon for ship-money upon the sole authority of the King. They demanded that Parliament, which had not been assembled for ten years, should meet and decide the question. This question was not merely one of the war-tax or ship-money, but of whether the King should have the power to levy taxes upon the people without consent of Parliament.

As every one knows, when the King finally consented to the assembling of Parliament, in April, 1840, he informed it that there would be no discussion of its demands until it had granted the war subsidies for which it had been asked. The older Vane added to the consternation of the assembly by announcing that the King would accept nothing less than the twelve subsidies which he had demanded in his message. In the face of this ultimatum the committee broke up without coming to a conclusion, postponing further consideration until the next day, but before they had had time to consider the matter the next day the King had decided to dissolve the Parliament.

The King was forced, however, to reassemble Parliament again in the autumn. In this Parliament the people’s party gained control, and many reforms were instituted. Led by such daring men as Pym, Hampden, Cromwell, and the younger Vane, resolutions were passed censuring the levying of ship-money, tonnage and poundage, monopolies, innovations in religion—in fact, all the grievances of the oppressed which had been ignored for a decade were brought to light and redressed by the House, quite regardless of the King’s attitude.

The chief of the abuses which it was bent upon remedying was the imposing of taxes upon the authority of the King and the persecution of the Puritans. But there was another grievance which received the attention of the Long Parliament, and which forms a close link with the reforms of 1832—namely, the attempt to improve the system of representation in Parliament, an attempt which was partially carried into effect by Cromwell later. Under Charles II, however, things fell back into their old way and gradually went on from bad to worse until the tide changed, and the people became finally aroused after two hundred years to the need of a radical change. The blindness of the Duke of Wellington, declaring no reform was needed, is hardly less to be marveled at than that of King Charles declaring he would rule without Parliament. The King took the ground that the people had no right to representation in the government; the Minister, that only some of the people had a right.

The horrors of revolution followed upon the blindness of the one, with its reactionary aftermath, while upon the other there was violence, it is true, and a revolution was feared, but through the wise measures of the liberal ministers no subversion of the government occurred. Violence reached such a pitch, however, that the castle of Nottingham in Derby was burned, the King’s brother was dragged from his horse, and Lord Londonderry roughly treated. The mob at Bristol was so infuriated that Sir C. Wetherell, the Recorder of the city, who had voted against the bill, had to be escorted to the Guildhall by a hundred mounted gentlemen. Two men having been arrested, the mob attacked and destroyed the interior of the Mansion House, set fire to the Bishop’s palace and to many other buildings. There was not only an enormous loss of property, but loss of life.

A quieter demonstration at Birmingham carries us back, as it might have carried Browning, to the “great-hearted men” of the Long Parliament. A meeting was called which was attended by one hundred and fifty thousand persons, and resolutions were passed to the effect that if the Reform Bill were not passed they would refuse to pay taxes, as Hampden had refused to pay ship-money.