“‘Oh, oh!’ exclaimed many hearers.
“‘I am prepared to prove it,’ said Mr. Disraeli, with menacing energy. ‘I am prepared to prove it, and always shall be, either in the House of Commons or on the hustings, considering the satisfactory manner in which I have been attacked, but I do not think the attack will be repeated.’”
It seems extraordinary that such tactics of bluff could take a man onward to the supreme place of Prime Minister. Possibly it was just as much owing to his power to amuse as to any of the causes brought out by Browning. Is there anything the majority of mankind loves more than a laugh?
The conflicts of Disraeli and Gladstone form one of the most remarkable episodes of nineteenth-century politics. One is tempted to draw a parallel between Napoleon III and Disraeli, whose tactics were much the same, except that Disraeli was backed up by a much keener intellect. Possibly he held a part in English politics similar to that held by Napoleon in European politics—that is, he conserved the influences of the past long enough to make the future more sure of itself. Browning, however, evidently considered him nothing more than a successful charlatan.
When Browning wrote, “Why I Am a Liberal,” in 1885, liberalism in English politics had reached its climax in the nineteenth century through the introduction by Mr. Gladstone, then Premier for the third time, of his Home Rule Bill. The injustices suffered by the Irish people and the horrible atrocities resulting from these had had their effect upon Mr. Gladstone and had taken him the last great step in his progress toward freedom. The meeting at which this bill was introduced has been described as the greatest legislative assembly of modern times. The House was full to overflowing, and in a brilliant speech of nearly four hours the veteran leader held his audience breathless as he unfolded his plans for the betterment of Irish conditions. We are told that during the debates that followed there was a remarkable exhibition of feeling—“the passions, the enthusiasm, the fear, and hope, and fury and exultation, sweeping, now the surface, now stirring to its depths the great gathering.” The bill, which included, besides the founding of an Irish Parliament in Dublin, which would have the power to deal with all matters “save the Crown, the Army and Navy, Foreign and Colonial Policy, Trade, Navigation, Currency, Imperial Taxation, and the Endowment of Churches,” also provided that Ireland should annually contribute to the English exchequer the sum of £3,243,000.
Eloquence, enthusiasm, exultation—all came to naught. The bill did not even suit the liberals, the bargain from a financial point of view being regarded as hard. It was defeated in Parliament and fared no better when an appeal was made to the country, and Mr. Gladstone resigned. In nine months, however, a general election returned him to office again, and again he introduced a Home Rule Bill, and though it passed the Commons, it was overwhelmingly defeated in the House of Lords.
It is pleasant to reflect that in this last act of a noble and brilliant career spent in the interests of the ever-growing ideals of democracy Gladstone had the sympathy of Browning, shown by his emphatic expression of “liberal sentiments” at a momentous crisis, when a speech on the liberal side even from the mouth of a poet counted for much.
As we have seen, the reflections in Browning’s poetry of his interest in public affairs are comparatively few, yet such glimpses as he has given prove him, beyond all doubt, to have been a democrat in principle, to have arrived, in fact, at the beginning of his career at a point beyond that attained by England’s rulers at the end of the century. This far-sighted vision of his may have been another reason to be added to those mentioned at the beginning of the chapter why his interest in the practical affairs of his country did not more often express itself. The wrangling, the inconsequentialness, the eloquence expended upon mere personal interests which make up by far the larger proportion of all political agitation, are irritating to the last degree to a man of vision. His part was that of the philosopher and artist—to watch and to record in the portrayal of his many characters the underlying principle of freedom, which was the guiding star in all his work.