They may be cool who can, silent who will--
Some have a gift that way! Wentworth is here,
Here, and the King's safe closeted with him
Ere this. And when I think on all that's past
Since that man left us, how his single arm
Rolled the advancing good of England back
And set the woeful past up in its place,
Exalting Dagon where the Ark should be,--
How that man has made firm the fickle King
(Hampden, I will speak out!)--in aught he feared
To venture on before; taught tyranny
Her dismal trade, the use of all her tools,
To ply the scourge yet screw the gag so close
That strangled agony bleeds mute to death;
How he turns Ireland to a private stage
For training infant villanies, new ways
Of wringing treasure out of tears and blood,
Unheard oppressions nourished in the dark
To try how much man's nature can endure
--If he dies under it, what harm? if not,
Why, one more trick is added to the rest
Worth a king's knowing, and what Ireland bears
England may learn to bear:--how all this while
That man has set himself to one dear task,
The bringing Charles to relish more and more
Power, power without law, power and blood too
--Can I be still?
_Hampden._ For that you should be still.
_Vane._ Oh Hampden, then and now! The year he left us,
The People in full Parliament could wrest
The Bill of Rights from the reluctant King;
And now, he'll find in an obscure small room
A stealthy gathering of great-hearted men
That take up England's cause: England is here!
_Hampden._ And who despairs of England?
_Rudyard._ That do I,
If Wentworth comes to rule her. I am sick
To think her wretched masters, Hamilton,
The muckworm Cottington, the maniac Laud,
May yet be longed-for back again. I say,
I do despair.
_Vane._ And, Rudyard, I'll say this--
Which all true men say after me, not loud
But solemnly and as you'd say a prayer!
This King, who treads our England underfoot,
Has just so much ... it may be fear or craft,
As bids him pause at each fresh outrage; friends,
He needs some sterner hand to grasp his own,
Some voice to ask, "Why shrink? Am I not by?"
Now, one whom England loved for serving her,
Found in his heart to say, "I know where best
The iron heel shall bruise her, for she leans
Upon me when you trample." Witness, you!
So Wentworth heartened Charles, so England fell.
But inasmuch as life is hard to take
From England....
_Many Voices._ Go on, Vane! 'Tis well said, Vane!
_Vane._ --Who has not so forgotten Runnymead!--
_Voices._ 'Tis well and bravely spoken, Vane! Go on!
_Vane._ --There are some little signs of late she knows
The ground no place for her. She glances round,
Wentworth has dropped the hand, is gone his way
On other service: what if she arise?
No! the King beckons, and beside him stands
The same bad man once more, with the same smile
And the same gesture. Now shall England crouch,
Or catch at us and rise?
_Voices._ The Renegade!
Haman! Ahithophel!
_Hampden._ Gentlemen of the North,
It was not thus the night your claims were urged,
And we pronounced the League and Covenant,
The cause of Scotland, England's cause as well:
Vane there, sat motionless the whole night through.
_Vane._ Hampden!
_Fiennes._ Stay, Vane!
_Loudon._ Be just and patient, Vane!
_Vane._ Mind how you counsel patience, Loudon! you
Have still a Parliament, and this your League
To back it; you are free in Scotland still:
While we are brothers, hope's for England yet.
But know you wherefore Wentworth comes? to quench
This last of hopes? that he brings war with him?
Know you the man's self? what he dares?
_Loudon._ We know,
All know--'tis nothing new.
_Vane._ And what's new, then,
In calling for his life? Why, Pym himself--
You must have heard--ere Wentworth dropped our cause
He would see Pym first; there were many more
Strong on the people's side and friends of his,
Eliot that's dead, Rudyard and Hampden here,
But for these Wentworth cared not; only, Pym
He would see--Pym and he were sworn, 'tis said,
To live and die together; so, they met
At Greenwich. Wentworth, you are sure, was long,
Specious enough, the devil's argument
Lost nothing on his lips; he'd have Pym own
A patriot could not play a purer part
Than follow in his track; they two combined
Might put down England. Well, Pym heard him out;
One glance--you know Pym's eye--one word was all:
"You leave us, Wentworth! while your head is on,
I'll not leave you."
_Hampden._ Has he left Wentworth, then?
Has England lost him? Will you let him speak,
Or put your crude surmises in his mouth?
Away with this! Will you have Pym or Vane?
_Voices._ Wait Pym's arrival! Pym shall speak.
_Hampden._ Meanwhile
Let Loudon read the Parliament's report
From Edinburgh: our last hope, as Vane says,
Is in the stand it makes. Loudon!
_Vane._ No, no!
Silent I can be: not indifferent!
_Hampden._ Then each keep silence, praying God to spare
His anger, cast not England quite away
In this her visitation!
_A Puritan._ Seven years long
The Midianite drove Israel into dens
And caves. Till God sent forth a mighty man,
_PYM enters_
Even Gideon!
_Pym._ Wentworth's come: nor sickness, care,
The ravaged body nor the ruined soul,
More than the winds and waves that beat his ship,
Could keep him from the King. He has not reached
Whitehall: they've hurried up a Council there
To lose no time and find him work enough.
Where's Loudon? your Scots' Parliament....
_Loudon._ Holds firm:
We were about to read reports.
_Pym._ The King
Has just dissolved your Parliament.
_Loudon and other Scots._ Great God!
An oath-breaker! Stand by us, England, then!
_Pym._ The King's too sanguine; doubtless Wentworth's here;
But still some little form might be kept up.
_Hampden._ Now speak, Vane! Rudyard, you had much to say!
_Hollis._ The rumor's false, then....
_Pym._ Ay, the Court gives out
His own concerns have brought him back: I know
'Tis the King calls him. Wentworth supersedes
The tribe of Cottingtons and Hamiltons
Whose part is played; there's talk enough, by this,--
Merciful talk, the King thinks: time is now
To turn the record's last and bloody leaf
Which, chronicling a nation's great despair,
Tells they were long rebellious, and their lord
Indulgent, till, all kind expedients tried,
He drew the sword on them and reigned in peace.
Laud's laying his religion on the Scots
Was the last gentle entry: the new page
Shall run, the King thinks, "Wentworth thrust it down
At the sword's point."
_A Puritan._ I'll do your bidding, Pym,
England's and God's--one blow!
_Pym._ A goodly thing--
We all say, friends, it is a goodly thing
To right that England. Heaven grows dark above:
Let's snatch one moment ere the thunder fall,
To say how well the English spirit comes out
Beneath it! All have done their best, indeed,
From lion Eliot, that grand Englishman,
To the least here: and who, the least one here,
When she is saved (for her redemption dawns
Dimly, most dimly, but it dawns--it dawns)
Who'd give at any price his hope away
Of being named along with the Great Men?
We would not--no, we would not give that up!
_Hampden._ And one name shall be dearer than all names.
When children, yet unborn, are taught that name
After their fathers',--taught what matchless man....
_Pym._ ... Saved England? What if Wentworth's should be still
That name?
_Rudyard and others._ We have just said it, Pym! His death
Saves her! We said it--there's no way beside!
I'll do God's bidding, Pym! They struck down Joab
And purged the land.
_Vane._ No villanous striking-down!
_Rudyard._ No, a calm vengeance: let the whole land rise
And shout for it. No Feltons!
_Pym._ Rudyard, no!
England rejects all Feltons; most of all
Since Wentworth ... Hampden, say the trust again
Of England in her servants--but I'll think
You know me, all of you. Then, I believe,
Spite of the past, Wentworth rejoins you, friends!
_Vane and others._ Wentworth? Apostate! Judas! Double-dyed
A traitor! Is it Pym, indeed....
_Pym._ ... Who says
Vane never knew that Wentworth, loved that man,
Was used to stroll with him, arm locked in arm,
Along the streets to see the people pass,
And read in every island-countenance
Fresh argument for God against the King,--
Never sat down, say, in the very house
Where Eliot's brow grew broad with noble thoughts,
(You've joined us, Hampden--Hollis, you as well,)
And then left talking over Gracchus' death....
_Vane._ To frame, we know it well, the choicest clause
In the Petition of Right: he framed such clause
One month before he took at the King's hand
His Northern Presidency, which that Bill
Denounced.
_Pym._ Too true! Never more, never more
Walked we together! Most alone I went.
I have had friends--all here are fast my friends--
But I shall never quite forget that friend.
And yet it could not but be real in him!
You, Vane,--you, Rudyard, have no right to trust
To Wentworth: but can no one hope with me?
Hampden, will Wentworth dare shed English blood
Like water?
_Hampden._ Ireland is Aceldama.
_Pym._ Will he turn Scotland to a hunting-ground
To please the King, now that he knows the King?
The People or the King? and that King, Charles!
_Hampden._ Pym, all here know you: you'll not set your heart
On any baseless dream. But say one deed
Of Wentworth's since he left us....
[_Shouting without._
_Vane._ There! he comes,
And they shout for him! Wentworth's at Whitehall,
The King embracing him, now, as we speak,
And he, to be his match in courtesies,
Taking the whole war's risk upon himself,
Now, while you tell us here how changed he is!
Hear you?
_Pym._ And yet if 'tis a dream, no more,
That Wentworth chose their side, and brought the King
To love it as though Laud had loved it first,
And the Queen after;--that he led their cause
Calm to success, and kept it spotless through,
So that our very eyes could look upon
The travail of our souls, and close content
That violence, which something mars even right
Which sanctions it, had taken off no grace
From its serene regard. Only a dream!
_Hampden._ We meet here to accomplish certain good
By obvious means, and keep tradition up
Of free assemblages, else obsolete,
In this poor chamber: nor without effect
Has friend met friend to counsel and confirm,
As, listening to the beats of England's heart,
We spoke its wants to Scotland's prompt reply
By these her delegates. Remains alone
That word grow deed, as with God's help it shall--
But with the devil's hindrance, who doubts too?
Looked we or no that tyranny should turn
Her engines of oppression to their use?
Whereof, suppose the worst be Wentworth here--
Shall we break off the tactics which succeed
In drawing out our formidablest foe,
Let bickering and disunion take their place?
Or count his presence as our conquest's proof,
And keep the old arms at their steady play?
Proceed to England's work! Fiennes, read the list!
_Fiennes._ Ship-money is refused or fiercely paid
In every county, save the northern parts
Where Wentworth's influence....
[_Shouting._
_Vane._ I, in England's name,
Declare her work, this way, at end! Till now,
Up to this moment, peaceful strife was best.
We English had free leave to think; till now,
We had a shadow of a Parliament
In Scotland. But all's changed: they change the first,
They try brute-force for law, they, first of all....
_Voices._ Good! Talk enough! The old true hearts with Vane!
_Vane._ Till we crush Wentworth for her, there's no act
Serves England!
_Voices._ Vane for England!
_Pym._ Pym should be
Something to England. I seek Wentworth, friends.
In the second scene of the first act, the man upon whom the popular
party has been heaping opprobrium appears to speak for himself. Again
the historical background must be known in order that the whole drift of
the scene may be understood. Wentworth is talking with Lady Carlisle, a
woman celebrated for her beauty and her wit, and fond of having
friendships with great men. Various opinions of this beautiful woman
have been expressed by those who knew her. "Her beauty," writes one,
"brought her adorers of all ranks, courtiers, and poets, and statesmen;
but she remained untouched by their worship." Sir Toby Mathews who
prefixed to a collection of letters published in 1660 "A character of
the most excellent Lady, Lucy, Countess of Carlisle," writes that she
will "freely discourse of love, and hear both the fancies and powers of
it; but if you will needs bring it within knowledge, and boldly direct
it to herself, she is likely to divert the discourse, or, at least, seem
not to understand it. By which you may know her humour, and her justice;
for since she cannot love in earnest she would have nothing from love."
According to him she filled her mind "with gallant fancies, and high and
elevated thoughts," and "her wit being most eminent among the rest of
her great abilities," even the conversation of those most famed for it
was affected. Quite another view of her is given in a letter of
Voiture's written to Mr. Gordon on leaving England in 1623.
"In one human being you let me see more treasures than there are there
[the Tower], and even more lions and leopards. It will not be difficult
for you to guess after this that I speak of the Countess of Carlisle.
For there is nobody else of whom all this good and evil can be said. No
matter how dangerous it is to let the memory dwell upon her, I have not,
so far, been able to keep mine from it, and, quite honestly, I would not
give the picture of her that lingers in my mind, for all the loveliest
things I have seen in my life. I must confess that she is an enchanting
personality, and there would not be a woman under heaven so worthy of
affection, if she only knew what it was, and if she had as sensitive a
nature as she has a reasonable mind. But with the temperament we know
she possesses, there is nothing to be said except that she is the most
lovable of all things not good, and the most delightful poison that
nature ever concocted." Browning himself says he first sketched her
character from Mathews, but finding that rather artificial, he used
Voiture and Waller, who referred to her as the "bright Carlisle of the
Court of Heaven." It should be remembered that she had become a widow
and was considerably older at the time of her friendship with Wentworth
than when Voiture wrote of her, and was probably better balanced, and
truly worthy of Wentworth's own appreciation of her when he wrote, "A
nobler nor a more intelligent friendship did I never meet with in my
life." A passage in a letter to Laud indicates that Wentworth was well
aware of the practical advantage in having such a friend as Lady
Carlisle at Court. "I judge her ladyship very considerable. She is often
in place, and extremely well skilled how to speak with advantage and
spirit for those friends she professeth unto, which will not be many.
There is this further in her disposition, she will not seem to be the
person she is not, an ingenuity I have always observed and honoured her
for."
It is something of a shock to learn that even before the Wentworth
episode was well over, she became a friend of his bitterest foe, Pym.
Gardiner sums up her character in as fair a way as any one,--and not at
all inconsistent with Browning's portrayal of her.
"Lady Carlisle had now been for many years a widow. She had long been
the reigning beauty at Court, and she loved to mingle political intrigue
with social intercourse. For politics as a serious occupation she had no
aptitude; but, in middle age, she felt a woman's pride in attaching to
herself the strong heads by which the world was ruled, as she had
attached to herself in youth, the witty courtier or the agile dancer. It
was worth a statesman's while to cultivate her acquaintance. She could
make him a power in society as well as in Council, could worm out a
secret which it behoved him to know, and could convey to others his
suggestions with assured fidelity. The calumny which treated Strafford,
as it afterwards treated Pym, as her accepted lover, may be safely
disregarded. But there can be no doubt that purely personal motives
attached her both to Strafford and Pym. For Strafford's theory of
Monarchical government she cared as little as she cared for Pym's theory
of Parliamentary government. It may be, too, that some mingled feeling
may have arisen in Strafford's breast. It was something to have an ally
at Court ready at all times to plead his cause with gay enthusiasm, to
warn him of hidden dangers, and to offer him the thread of that
labyrinth which, under the name of 'the Queen's side,' was such a
mystery to him. It was something, too, no doubt, that this advocate was
not a grey haired statesman, but a woman, in spite of growing years, of
winning grace and sparkling vivacity of eye and tongue."
[Illustration: Charles I]
Strafford, himself, Browning brings before us, ill, and worn out with
responsibility as he was upon his return to England at this time.
Carlisle tactfully lets him know how he will have to face criticisms
from other councillors about the King, and how even the confidence of
the fickle King cannot be relied upon. In his conference with the King
in this scene, Strafford, at last, wins the confidence of the King as
history relates. Wentworth, horrified at the way in which a war with
Scotland has been precipitated, carries his point, that Parliaments
should be called in Ireland and England. This will give time for
preparation, and at the same time an opportunity of convincing the
people that the war is justified by Scotland's treason, so causing them
willingly to grant subsidies for the expense of the war. To turn from
the play to history, Commissioners from the Scottish Parliament, the
Earls of Loudon and Dumferling had arrived in London to ask that the
acts of the Scottish Parliament might receive confirmation from the
King. This question was referred to a committee of eight Privy
Councillors. Propositions were made to put the Scotch Commissioners in
prison; however, the King finally decided to dismiss them without
treating with them. Scottish indignation of course ran high at this
proceeding, and here Wentworth stepped in and won the King to his policy
of ruling Scotland directly from England. "He insisted," writes
Gardiner, "that a Parliament, and a Parliament alone, was the remedy
fitted for the occasion. Laud and Hamilton gave him their support. He
carried his point with the Committee. What was of more importance he
carried it with the King." And as one writer expressed it the Lords were
of the opinion that "his Majesty should make trial of that once more,
that so he might leave his people without excuse, and have where withal
to justify himself to God and the world that in his own inclination he
desired the old way; but that if his people should not cheerfully,
according to their duties, meet him in that, especially in this exigent
when his kingdom and person are in apparent danger, the world might see
he is forced, contrary to his own inclination, to use extraordinary
means rather than, by the peevishness of some few factious spirits, to
suffer his state and government to be lost."
In the play as in history, Charles now confers upon Wentworth an
Earldom. Shortly after this the King "was prepared," says Gardiner, "to
confer upon his faithful Minister that token of his confidence which he
had twice refused before. On January 12, Wentworth received the Earldom
of Strafford, and a week later he exchanged the title of Lord-Deputy of
Ireland for the higher dignity of Lord-Lieutenant."
In his conference with Pym, Strafford who, in talking to Carlisle, had
shown a slight wavering toward the popular party, because of finding
himself so surrounded by difficulties, stands firm; this episode is a
striking working up of the tradition of the friendship between these
two men.
The influence of the Queen upon Charles is the last strand in this
tangled skein of human destiny brought out by Browning in the scene. The
Parliament that Wentworth wants she is afraid of lest it should ask for
a renewal of the persecution of the Catholics. The vacillating Charles,
in an instant, is ready to repudiate his interview with Wentworth, and
act only to please the Queen.
SCENE II.--_Whitehall._
_+Lady+ CARLISLE and WENTWORTH_
_Wentworth._ And the King?
_Lady Carlisle._ Wentworth, lean on me! Sit then!
I'll tell you all; this horrible fatigue
Will kill you.
_Wentworth._ No;--or, Lucy, just your arm;
I'll not sit till I've cleared this up with him:
After that, rest. The King?
_Lady Carlisle._ Confides in you.
_Wentworth._ Why? or, why now?--They have kind throats, the knaves!
Shout for me--they!
_Lady Carlisle._ You come so strangely soon:
Yet we took measures to keep off the crowd--
Did they shout for you?
_Wentworth._ Wherefore should they not?
Does the King take such measures for himself?
Besides, there's such a dearth of malcontents,
You say!
_Lady Carlisle._ I said but few dared carp at you.
_Wentworth._ At me? at us, I hope! The King and I!
He's surely not disposed to let me bear
The fame away from him of these late deeds
In Ireland? I am yet his instrument
Be it for well or ill? He trusts me too!
_Lady Carlisle._ The King, dear Wentworth, purposes, I said,
To grant you, in the face of all the Court....
_Wentworth._ All the Court! Evermore the Court about us!
Savile and Holland, Hamilton and Vane
About us,--then the King will grant me--what?
That he for once put these aside and say--
"Tell me your whole mind, Wentworth!"
_Lady Carlisle._ You professed
You would be calm.
_Wentworth._ Lucy, and I am calm!
How else shall I do all I come to do,
Broken, as you may see, body and mind,
How shall I serve the King? Time wastes meanwhile,
You have not told me half. His footstep! No.
Quick, then, before I meet him,--I am calm--
Why does the King distrust me?
_Lady Carlisle._ He does not
Distrust you.
_Wentworth._ Lucy, you can help me; you
Have even seemed to care for me: one word!
Is it the Queen?
_Lady Carlisle._ No, not the Queen: the party
That poisons the Queen's ear, Savile and Holland.
_Wentworth._ I know, I know: old Vane, too, he's one too?
Go on--and he's made Secretary. Well?
Or leave them out and go straight to the charge--
The charge!
_Lady Carlisle._ Oh, there's no charge, no precise charge;
Only they sneer, make light of--one may say,
Nibble at what you do.
_Wentworth._ I know! but, Lucy,
I reckoned on you from the first!--Go on!
--Was sure could I once see this gentle friend
When I arrived, she'd throw an hour away
To help her ... what am I?
_Lady Carlisle._ You thought of me,
Dear Wentworth?
_Wentworth._ But go on! The party here!
_Lady Carlisle._ They do not think your Irish government
Of that surpassing value....
_Wentworth._ The one thing
Of value! The one service that the crown
May count on! All that keeps these very Vanes
In power, to vex me--not that they do vex,
Only it might vex some to hear that service
Decried, the sole support that's left the King!
_Lady Carlisle._ So the Archbishop says.
_Wentworth._ Ah? well, perhaps
The only hand held up in my defence
May be old Laud's! These Hollands then, these Saviles
Nibble? They nibble?--that's the very word!
_Lady Carlisle._ Your profit in the Customs, Bristol says,
Exceeds the due proportion: while the tax....
_Wentworth._ Enough! 'tis too unworthy,--I am not
So patient as I thought. What's Pym about?
_Lady Carlisle._ Pym?
_Wentworth._ Pym and the People.
_Lady Carlisle._ O, the Faction!
Extinct--of no account: there'll never be
Another Parliament.
_Wentworth._ Tell Savile that!
You may know--(ay, you do--the creatures here
Never forget!) that in my earliest life
I was not ... much that I am now! The King
May take my word on points concerning Pym
Before Lord Savile's, Lucy, or if not,
I bid them ruin their wise selves, not me,
These Vanes and Hollands! I'll not be their tool
Who might be Pym's friend yet.
But there's the King!
Where is he?
_Lady Carlisle._ Just apprised that you arrive.
_Wentworth._ And why not here to meet me? I was told
He sent for me, nay, longed for me.
_Lady Carlisle._ Because,--
He is now ... I think a Council's sitting now
About this Scots affair.
_Wentworth._ A Council sits?
They have not taken a decided course
Without me in the matter?
_Lady Carlisle._ I should say....
_Wentworth._ The war? They cannot have agreed to that?
Not the Scots' war?--without consulting me--
Me, that am here to show how rash it is,
How easy to dispense with?--Ah, you too
Against me! well,--the King may take his time.
--Forget it, Lucy! Cares make peevish: mine
Weigh me (but 'tis a secret) to my grave.
_Lady Carlisle._ For life or death I am your own, dear friend!
[_Goes out._
_Wentworth._ Heartless! but all are heartless here. Go now,
Forsake the People!
I did not forsake
The People: they shall know it, when the King
Will trust me!--who trusts all beside at once,
While I have not spoke Vane and Savile fair,
And am not trusted: have but saved the throne:
Have not picked up the Queen's glove prettily,
And am not trusted. But he'll see me now.
Weston is dead: the Queen's half English now--
More English: one decisive word will brush
These insects from ... the step I know so well!
The King! But now, to tell him ... no--to ask
What's in me he distrusts:--or, best begin
By proving that this frightful Scots affair
Is just what I foretold. So much to say,
And the flesh fails, now, and the time is come,
And one false step no way to be repaired.
You were avenged, Pym, could you look on me.
_PYM enters._
_Wentworth._ I little thought of you just then.
_Pym._ No? I
Think always of you, Wentworth.
_Wentworth._ The old voice!
I wait the King, sir.
_Pym._ True--you look so pale!
A Council sits within; when that breaks up
He'll see you.
_Wentworth._ Sir, I thank you.
_Pym._ Oh, thank Laud!
You know when Laud once gets on Church affairs
The case is desperate: he'll not be long
To-day: he only means to prove, to-day,
We English all are mad to have a hand
In butchering the Scots for serving God
After their fathers' fashion: only that!
[Illustration: Whitehall]
_Wentworth._ Sir, keep your jests for those who relish them!
(Does he enjoy their confidence?) 'Tis kind
To tell me what the Council does.
_Pym._ You grudge
That I should know it had resolved on war
Before you came? no need: you shall have all
The credit, trust me!
_Wentworth._ Have the Council dared--
They have not dared ... that is--I know you not.
Farewell, sir: times are changed.
_Pym._ --Since we two met
At Greenwich? Yes: poor patriots though we be,
You cut a figure, makes some slight return
For your exploits in Ireland! Changed indeed,
Could our friend Eliot look from out his grave!
Ah, Wentworth, one thing for acquaintance' sake,
Just to decide a question; have you, now,
Felt your old self since you forsook us?
_Wentworth._ Sir!
_Pym._ Spare me the gesture! you misapprehend.
Think not I mean the advantage is with me.
I was about to say that, for my part,
I never quite held up my head since then--
Was quite myself since then: for first, you see,
I lost all credit after that event
With those who recollect how sure I was
Wentworth would outdo Eliot on our side.
Forgive me: Savile, old Vane, Holland here,
Eschew plain-speaking: 'tis a trick I keep.
_Wentworth._ How, when, where, Savile, Vane, and Holland speak,
Plainly or otherwise, would have my scorn,
All of my scorn, sir....
_Pym._ ... Did not my poor thoughts
Claim somewhat?
_Wentworth._ Keep your thoughts! believe the King
Mistrusts me for their prattle, all these Vanes
And Saviles! make your mind up, o' God's love,
That I am discontented with the King!
_Pym._ Why, you may be: I should be, that I know,
Were I like you.
_Wentworth._ Like me?
_Pym._ I care not much
For titles: our friend Eliot died no lord,
Hampden's no lord, and Savile is a lord;
But you care, since you sold your soul for one.
I can't think, therefore, your soul's purchaser
Did well to laugh you to such utter scorn
When you twice prayed so humbly for its price,
The thirty silver pieces ... I should say,
The Earldom you expected, still expect,
And may. Your letters were the movingest!
Console yourself: I've borne him prayers just now
From Scotland not to be oppressed by Laud,
Words moving in their way: he'll pay, be sure,
As much attention as to those you sent.
_Wentworth._ False, sir! Who showed them you? Suppose it so,
The King did very well ... nay, I was glad
When it was shown me: I refused, the first!
John Pym, you were my friend--forbear me once!
_Pym._ Oh, Wentworth, ancient brother of my soul,
That all should come to this!
_Wentworth._ Leave me!
_Pym._ My friend,
Why should I leave you?
_Wentworth._ To tell Rudyard this,
And Hampden this!
_Pym._ Whose faces once were bright
At my approach, now sad with doubt and fear,
Because I hope in you--yes, Wentworth, you
Who never mean to ruin England--you
Who shake off, with God's help, an obscene dream
In this Ezekiel chamber, where it crept
Upon you first, and wake, yourself, your true
And proper self, our Leader, England's Chief,
And Hampden's friend!
This is the proudest day!
Come, Wentworth! Do not even see the King!
The rough old room will seem itself again!
We'll both go in together: you've not seen
Hampden so long: come: and there's Fiennes: you'll have
To know young Vane. This is the proudest day!
[_The KING enters. WENTWORTH lets fall PYM'S hand._
_Charles._ Arrived, my lord?--This gentleman, we know
Was your old friend.
The Scots shall be informed
What we determine for their happiness.
[_PYM goes out._
You have made haste, my lord.
_Wentworth._ Sir, I am come....
_Charles._ To see an old familiar--nay, 'tis well;
Aid us with his experience: this Scots' League
And Covenant spreads too far, and we have proofs
That they intrigue with France: the Faction too,
Whereof your friend there is the head and front,
Abets them,--as he boasted, very like.
_Wentworth._ Sir, trust me! but for this once, trust me, sir!
_Charles._ What can you mean?
_Wentworth._ That you should trust me, sir!
Oh--not for my sake! but 'tis sad, so sad
That for distrusting me, you suffer--you
Whom I would die to serve: sir, do you think
That I would die to serve you?
_Charles._ But rise, Wentworth!
_Wentworth._ What shall convince you? What does Savile do
To prove him.... Ah, one can't tear out one's heart
And show it, how sincere a thing it is!
_Charles._ Have I not trusted you?
_Wentworth._ Say aught but that!
There is my comfort, mark you: all will be
So different when you trust me--as you shall!
It has not been your fault,--I was away,
Mistook, maligned, how was the King to know?
I am here, now--he means to trust me, now--
All will go on so well!
_Charles._ Be sure I do--
I've heard that I should trust you: as you came,
Your friend, the Countess, told me....
_Wentworth._ No,--hear nothing--
Be told nothing about me!--you're not told
Your right-hand serves you, or your children love you!
_Charles._ You love me, Wentworth: rise!
_Wentworth._ I can speak now.
I have no right to hide the truth. 'Tis I
Can save you: only I. Sir, what must be?
_Charles._ Since Laud's assured (the minutes are within)
--Loath as I am to spill my subjects' blood....
_Wentworth._ That is, he'll have a war: what's done is done!
_Charles._ They have intrigued with France; that's clear to Laud.
_Wentworth._ Has Laud suggested any way to meet
The war's expense?
_Charles._ He'd not decide so far
Until you joined us.
_Wentworth._ Most considerate!
He's certain they intrigue with France, these Scots?
The People would be with us.
_Charles._ Pym should know.
_Wentworth._ The People for us--were the People for us!
Sir, a great thought comes to reward your trust:
Summon a Parliament! in Ireland first,
Then, here.
_Charles._ In truth?
_Wentworth._ That saves us! that puts off
The war, gives time to right their grievances--
To talk with Pym. I know the Faction,--Laud
So styles it,--tutors Scotland: all their plans
Suppose no Parliament: in calling one
You take them by surprise. Produce the proofs
Of Scotland's treason; then bid England help:
Even Pym will not refuse.
_Charles._ You would begin
With Ireland?
_Wentworth._ Take no care for that: that's sure
To prosper.
_Charles._ You shall rule me. You were best
Return at once: but take this ere you go!
Now, do I trust you? You're an Earl: my Friend
Of Friends: yes, while.... You hear me not!
_Wentworth._ Say it all o'er again--but once again:
The first was for the music: once again!
_Charles._ Strafford, my friend, there may have been reports,
Vain rumors. Henceforth touching Strafford is
To touch the apple of my sight: why gaze
So earnestly?
_Wentworth._ I am grown young again,
And foolish. What was it we spoke of?
_Charles._ Ireland,
The Parliament,--
_Wentworth._ I may go when I will?
--Now?
_Charles._ Are you tired so soon of us?
_Wentworth._ My King!
But you will not so utterly abhor
A Parliament? I'd serve you any way.
_Charles._ You said just now this was the only way.
_Wentworth._ Sir, I will serve you.
_Charles._ Strafford, spare yourself:
You are so sick, they tell me.
_Wentworth._ 'Tis my soul
That's well and prospers now.
This Parliament--
We'll summon it, the English one--I'll care
For everything. You shall not need them much.
_Charles._ If they prove restive....
_Wentworth._ I shall be with you.
_Charles._ Ere they assemble?
_Wentworth._ I will come, or else
Deposit this infirm humanity
I' the dust. My whole heart stays with you, my King!
[_As WENTWORTH goes out, the QUEEN enters._
_Charles._ That man must love me.
_Queen._ Is it over then?
Why, he looks yellower than ever! Well,
At least we shall not hear eternally
Of service--services: he's paid at least.
_Charles._ Not done with: he engages to surpass
All yet performed in Ireland.
_Queen._ I had thought
Nothing beyond was ever to be done.
The war, Charles--will he raise supplies enough?
_Charles._ We've hit on an expedient; he ... that is,
I have advised ... we have decided on
The calling--in Ireland--of a Parliament.
_Queen._ O truly! You agree to that? Is that
The first fruit of his counsel? But I guessed
As much.
_Charles._ This is too idle, Henriette!
I should know best. He will strain every nerve,
And once a precedent established....
_Queen._ Notice
How sure he is of a long term of favor!
He'll see the next, and the next after that;
No end to Parliaments!
_Charles._ Well, it is done.
He talks it smoothly, doubtless. If, indeed,
The Commons here....
_Queen._ Here! you will summon them
Here? Would I were in France again to see
A King!
_Charles._ But, Henriette....
_Queen._ Oh, the Scots see clear!
Why should they bear your rule?
_Charles._ But listen, sweet!
_Queen._ Let Wentworth listen--you confide in him!
_Charles._ I do not, love,--I do not so confide!
The Parliament shall never trouble us
... Nay, hear me! I have schemes, such schemes: we'll buy
The leaders off: without that, Wentworth's counsel
Had ne'er prevailed on me. Perhaps I call it
To have excuse for breaking it for ever,
And whose will then the blame be? See you not?
Come, dearest!--look, the little fairy, now,
That cannot reach my shoulder! Dearest, come!
In the second act, the historical episode, which pervades the act is the
assembling and the dissolution of the Short Parliament. Only the salient
points of the political situation have been seized upon by Browning. As
in the first act, the popular party in private conclave is introduced.
From the talk it is gathered that feeling runs high against Strafford,
by whose advice the Parliament had been called, because of the
exorbitant demands made upon it for money to support an army, this army
to crush Scotland whose cause was so nearly like its own. The popular
party or the Faction had supposed the Parliament would be a means for
the redressing of its long list of grievances which had been
accumulating during the years since the last Parliament had been held.
Instead of that the Commons was deliberately informed by Charles that
there would be no discussions of its demands until it had granted the
subsidies for which it had been asked. The play gives one a much more
lively sense of the indignant feelings of the duped men than can
possibly be gained by reading many more pages of history with its
endless minor details. Upon this gathering, Pym suddenly enters again,
and to the reproaches of him for his belief in Strafford, makes the
reply that the Parliament has been dissolved, the King has cast
Strafford off forever, and henceforth Strafford will be on their
side,--a conclusion not warranted by history, and, of course, found out
to be erroneous by Pym and his followers in the next scene. Again there
is the dramatic need to emphasize the human side of life even in an
essentially political play, by showing that Pym's friendship and loyalty
to Wentworth were no uncertain elements in his character. The moment it
could be proved beyond a doubt that Wentworth was in the eyes of Pym,
England's enemy, that moment Pym knew it would become his painful duty
to crush Wentworth utterly, therefore Pym had for his own conscience'
sake to make the uttermost trial of his faith.
The second scene, as in the first act, brings out the other side. It is
in the main true to history though much condensed. History relates that
after the Short Parliament was dissolved, "voices were raised at
Whitehall in condemnation of Strafford." His policy of raising subsidies
from the Parliament having failed, criticisms would, of course, be made
upon his having pushed ahead a war without the proper means of
sustaining it. Charles himself was also frightened by the manifestations
of popular discontent and failed to uphold Wentworth in his policy.
Northumberland had been appointed commander-in-chief of the army, but
besides having little heart for an enterprise so badly prepared for, he
was ill in bed and could not take command of the army, so the King
appointed Strafford in his place. A hint of Strafford as he appears in
this scene may be taken from Clarendon who writes "The earl of Strafford
was scarce recovered from a great sickness, yet was willing to undertake
the charge out of pure indignation to see how few men were forward to
serve the King with that vigor of mind they ought to do; but knowing
well the malicious designs which were contrived against himself,
he would rather serve as lieutenant-general under the earl of
Northumberland, than that he should resign his commission: and so, with
and under that qualification, he made all possible haste towards the
north before he had strength enough for the journey." Browning makes the
King tell Strafford in this interview that he has dissolved the
Parliament. He represents Strafford as horrified by the news and driven
in this extremity to suggest the desperate measure of debasing the
coinage as a means of obtaining funds. Strafford actually counseled
this, when all else failed, namely, the proposed loan from the city, and
one from the Spanish government, but, according to history, he himself
voted for the dissolution of Parliament, though the play is accurate in
laying the necessity of the dissolution at the door of old Vane. It was
truly his ill-judged vehemence, for, not able to brook the arguments of
the Commons, "He rose," says Gardiner, "to state that the King would
accept nothing less than the twelve subsidies which he had demanded in
his message. Upon this the Committee broke up without coming to a
resolution, postponing further consideration of the matter to the
following day." The next morning the King who had called his councillors
together early "announced his intention of proceeding to a dissolution.
Strafford, who arrived late, begged that the question might first be
seriously discussed, and that the opinions of the Councillors, who were
also members of the Lower House, might first be heard. Vane declared
that there was no hope that the Commons 'would give one penny.' On this
the votes were taken. Northumberland and Holland were alone in wishing
to avert a dissolution. Supported by the rest of the Council the King
hurried to the House of Lords and dissolved Parliament."
Wholly imaginary is the episode in this scene where Pym and his
followers break in upon the interview of Wentworth and the King. Just
at the climax of Wentworth's sorrowful rage at the King's treatment of
him, they come to claim Wentworth for their side.
That you would say I did advise the war;
And if, through your own weakness, or what's worse,
These Scots, with God to help them, drive me back,
You will not step between the raging People
And me, to say....
I knew it! from the first
I knew it! Never was so cold a heart!
Remember that I said it--that I never
Believed you for a moment!
--And, you loved me?
You thought your perfidy profoundly hid
Because I could not share the whisperings
With Vane, with Savile? What, the face was masked?
I had the heart to see, sir! Face of flesh,
But heart of stone--of smooth cold frightful stone!
Ay, call them! Shall I call for you? The Scots
Goaded to madness? Or the English--Pym--
Shall I call Pym, your subject? Oh, you think
I'll leave them in the dark about it all?
They shall not know you? Hampden, Pym shall not?
_PYM, HAMPDEN, VANE, etc., enter._
[_Dropping on his knee._] Thus favored with your gracious countenance
What shall a rebel League avail against
Your servant, utterly and ever yours?
So, gentlemen, the King's not even left
The privilege of bidding me farewell
Who haste to save the People--that you style
Your People--from the mercies of the Scots
And France their friend?
[_To CHARLES._] Pym's grave grey eyes are fixed
Upon you, sir!
Your pleasure, gentlemen?
_Hampden._ The King dissolved us--'tis the King we seek
And not Lord Strafford.
_Strafford._ --Strafford, guilty too
Of counselling the measure. [_To CHARLES._] (Hush ... you know--
You have forgotten--sir, I counselled it)
A heinous matter, truly! But the King
Will yet see cause to thank me for a course
Which now, perchance ... (Sir, tell them so!)--he blames.
Well, choose some fitter time to make your charge:
I shall be with the Scots, you understand?
Then yelp at me!
Meanwhile, your Majesty
Binds me, by this fresh token of your trust....
[_Under the pretence of an earnest farewell, STRAFFORD conducts CHARLES
to the door, in such a manner as to hide his agitation from the rest: as
the King disappears, they turn as by one impulse to PYM, who has not
changed his original posture of surprise._
_Hampden._ Leave we this arrogant strong wicked man!
_Vane and others._ Hence, Pym! Come out of this unworthy place
To our old room again! He's gone.
[_STRAFFORD, just about to follow the KING, looks back._
_Pym._ Not gone!
[_To STRAFFORD._] Keep tryst! the old appointment's made anew:
Forget not we shall meet again!
_Strafford._ So be it!
And if an army follows me?
_Vane._ His friends
Will entertain your army!
_Pym._ I'll not say
You have misreckoned, Strafford: time shows.
Perish
Body and spirit! Fool to feign a doubt,
Pretend the scrupulous and nice reserve
Of one whose prowess shall achieve the feat!
What share have I in it? Do I affect
To see no dismal sign above your head
When God suspends his ruinous thunder there?
Strafford is doomed. Touch him no one of you!
[_PYM, HAMPDEN, etc., go out._
_Strafford._ Pym, we shall meet again!
In the final talk of this scene with Carlisle, the pathos of Strafford's
position is wonderfully brought out--the man who loves his King so
overmuch that no perfidy on the King's part can make his resolution to
serve him waver for an instant.
_+Lady+ CARLISLE enters._
You here, child?
_Lady Carlisle._ Hush--
I know it all: hush, Strafford!
_Strafford._ Ah? you know?
Well. I shall make a sorry soldier, Lucy!
All knights begin their enterprise, we read,
Under the best of auspices; 'tis morn,
The Lady girds his sword upon the Youth
(He's always very young)--the trumpets sound,
Cups pledge him, and, why, the King blesses him--
You need not turn a page of the romance
To learn the Dreadful Giant's fate. Indeed,
We've the fair Lady here; but she apart,--
A poor man, rarely having handled lance,
And rather old, weary, and far from sure
His Squires are not the Giant's friends. All's one:
Let us go forth!
_Lady Carlisle._ Go forth?
_Strafford._ What matters it?
We shall die gloriously--as the book says.
_Lady Carlisle._ To Scotland? Not to Scotland?
_Strafford._ Am I sick
Like your good brother, brave Northumberland?
Beside, these walls seem falling on me.
_Lady Carlisle._ Strafford,
The wind that saps these walls can undermine
Your camp in Scotland, too. Whence creeps the wind?
Have you no eyes except for Pym? Look here!
A breed of silken creatures lurk and thrive
In your contempt. You'll vanquish Pym? Old Vane
Can vanquish you. And Vane you think to fly?
Rush on the Scots! Do nobly! Vane's slight sneer
Shall test success, adjust the praise, suggest
The faint result: Vane's sneer shall reach you there.
--You do not listen!
_Strafford._ Oh,--I give that up!
There's fate in it: I give all here quite up.
Care not what old Vane does or Holland does
Against me! 'Tis so idle to withstand!
In no case tell me what they do!
_Lady Carlisle._ But, Strafford....
_Strafford._ I want a little strife, beside; real strife;
This petty palace-warfare does me harm:
I shall feel better, fairly out of it.
_Lady Carlisle._ Why do you smile?
_Strafford._ I got to fear them, child!
I could have torn his throat at first, old Vane's,
As he leered at me on his stealthy way
To the Queen's closet. Lord, one loses heart!
I often found it on my lips to say
"Do not traduce me to her!"
_Lady Carlisle._ But the King....
_Strafford._ The King stood there, 'tis not so long ago,
--There; and the whisper, Lucy, "Be my friend
Of friends!"--My King! I would have....
_Lady Carlisle._ ... Died for him?
_Strafford._ Sworn him true, Lucy: I can die for him.
_Lady Carlisle._ But go not, Strafford! But you must renounce
This project on the Scots! Die, wherefore die?
Charles never loved you.
_Strafford._ And he never will.
He's not of those who care the more for men
That they're unfortunate.
_Lady Carlisle._ Then wherefore die
For such a master?
_Strafford._ You that told me first
How good he was--when I must leave true friends
To find a truer friend!--that drew me here
From Ireland,--"I had but to show myself
And Charles would spurn Vane, Savile, and the rest"--
You, child, to ask me this?
_Lady Carlisle._ (If he have set
His heart abidingly on Charles!)
Then, friend,
I shall not see you any more.
_Strafford._ Yes, Lucy.
There's one man here I have to meet.
_Lady Carlisle._ (The King!
What way to save him from the King?
My soul--
That lent from its own store the charmed disguise
Which clothes the King--he shall behold my soul!)
Strafford,--I shall speak best if you'll not gaze
Upon me: I had never thought, indeed,
To speak, but you would perish too, so sure!
Could you but know what 'tis to bear, my friend,
One image stamped within you, turning blank
The else imperial brilliance of your mind,--
A weakness, but most precious,--like a flaw
I' the diamond, which should shape forth some sweet face
Yet to create, and meanwhile treasured there
Lest nature lose her gracious thought for ever!
_Strafford._ When could it be? no! Yet ... was it the day
We waited in the anteroom, till Holland
Should leave the presence-chamber?
_Lady Carlisle._ What?
_Strafford._ --That I
Described to you my love for Charles?
_Lady Carlisle._ (Ah, no--
One must not lure him from a love like that!
Oh, let him love the King and die! 'Tis past.
I shall not serve him worse for that one brief
And passionate hope, silent for ever now!)
And you are really bound for Scotland then?
I wish you well: you must be very sure
Of the King's faith, for Pym and all his crew
Will not be idle--setting Vane aside!
_Strafford._ If Pym is busy,--you may write of Pym.
_Lady Carlisle._ What need, since there's your King to take your part?
He may endure Vane's counsel; but for Pym--
Think you he'll suffer Pym to....
_Strafford._ Child, your hair
Is glossier than the Queen's!
_Lady Carlisle._ Is that to ask
A curl of me?
_Strafford._ Scotland----the weary way!
_Lady Carlisle._ Stay, let me fasten it.
--A rival's, Strafford?
_Strafford_ [_showing the George_]. He hung it there: twine yours
around it, child!
_Lady Carlisle._ No--no--another time--I trifle so!
And there's a masque on foot. Farewell. The Court
Is dull; do something to enliven us
In Scotland: we expect it at your hands.
_Strafford._ I shall not fail in Scotland.
_Lady Carlisle._ Prosper--if
You'll think of me sometimes!
_Strafford._ How think of him
And not of you? of you, the lingering streak
(A golden one) in my good fortune's eve.
_Lady Carlisle._ Strafford.... Well, when the eve has its last streak
The night has its first star.
[_She goes out._
_Strafford._ That voice of hers--
You'd think she had a heart sometimes! His voice
Is soft too.
Only God can save him now.
Be Thou about his bed, about his path!
His path! Where's England's path? Diverging wide,
And not to join again the track my foot
Must follow--whither? All that forlorn way
Among the tombs! Far--far--till.... What, they do
Then join again, these paths? For, huge in the dusk,
There's--Pym to face!
Why then, I have a foe
To close with, and a fight to fight at last
Worthy my soul! What, do they beard the King,
And shall the King want Strafford at his need?
Am I not here?
Not in the market-place,
Pressed on by the rough artisans, so proud
To catch a glance from Wentworth! They lie down
Hungry yet smile "Why, it must end some day:
Is he not watching for our sake?" Not there!
But in Whitehall, the whited sepulchre,
The....
Curse nothing to-night! Only one name
They'll curse in all those streets to-night. Whose fault?
Did I make kings? set up, the first, a man
To represent the multitude, receive
All love in right of them--supplant them so,
Until you love the man and not the king----
The man with the mild voice and mournful eyes
Which send me forth.
--To breast the bloody sea
That sweeps before me: with one star for guide.
Night has its first, supreme, forsaken star.
During the third act, the long Parliament is in session, and Pym is
making his great speech impeaching Wentworth.
The conditions of affairs at the time of this Parliament were well-nigh
desperate for Charles and Wentworth. Things had not gone well with the
Scottish war and Wentworth was falling more and more into disfavor.
England was now threatened with a Scottish invasion. Still, even with
this danger to face it was impossible to raise money to support the
army. The English had a suspicion that the Scotch cause was their own.
The universal demand for a Parliament could no longer be ignored; the
King, therefore, summoned it to meet on the third of November. As Firth
observes, "To Strafford this meant ruin, but he hardly realized the
greatness of the danger in which he stood. On October 8, the Scotch
Commissioners in a public paper denounced him as an incendiary, and
declared that they meant to insist on his punishment.
"As soon as the Parliament opened Charles discovered that it was
necessary for his service to have Strafford again by his side, and
summoned him to London. There is evidence that his friends urged him to
pass over to Ireland where the army rested at his devotion, or to
transport himself to foreign Kingdoms till fairer weather here should
invite him home. The Marquis of Hamilton advised him to fly, but as
Hamilton told the King, the Earl was too great-hearted to fear. Though
conscious of the peril of obedience, he set out to London to stand by
his Master."
The enmity of the Court party to Strafford is touched upon in the first
scene, and in the second, Strafford's return, unsuspecting of the great
blow that awaits him. He had indeed meditated a blow on his own part.
According to Firth, he felt that "One desperate resource remained. The
intrigues of the parliamentary leaders with the Scots had come to
Strafford's knowledge, and he had determined to impeach them of high
treason. He could prove that Pym and his friends had secretly
communicated with the rebels, and invited them to bring a Scottish army
into England. Strafford arrived in London on Monday, November 9, 1640,
and spent Tuesday in resting after his journey. On the morning of
Wednesday the 11th, he took his seat in the House of Lords, but did not
strike the blow." Upon that day he was impeached of high treason by Pym.
Gardiner's account here has much the same dramatic force as the play.
"Followed by a crowd of approving members, Pym carried up the message.
Whilst the Lords were still debating on this unusual request for
imprisonment before the charge had been set forth, the news of the
impeachment was carried to Strafford. 'I will go,' he proudly said 'and
look my accusers in the face.' With haughty mien and scowling brow he
strode up the floor of the House to his place of honor. There were those
amongst the Peers who had no wish to allow him to speak, lest he should
accuse them of complicity with the Scots. The Lords, as a body, felt
even more personally aggrieved by his method of government than the
Commons. Shouts of 'Withdraw! withdraw!' rose from every side. As soon
as he was gone an order was passed sequestering the Lord-Lieutenant from
his place in the House and committing him to the custody of the
Gentleman Usher. He was then called in and bidden to kneel whilst the
order was read. He asked permission to speak, but his request was
sternly refused. Maxwell, the Usher of the Black Rod, took from him his
sword, and conducted him out of the House. The crowd outside gazed
pitilessly on the fallen minister, 'No man capping to him, before whom
that morning the greatest in England would have stood dis-covered.'
'What is the matter?' they asked. 'A small matter, I warrant you,'
replied Strafford with forced levity. 'Yes, indeed,' answered a
bystander, 'high treason is a small matter.'"
This passage brings up the scene in a manner so similar to that of the
play, it is safe to say that Gardiner was here influenced by Browning,
the history having been written many years after the play.
SCENE II.--_Whitehall._
_The QUEEN and +Lady+ CARLISLE._
_Queen._ It cannot be.
_Lady Carlisle._ It is so.
_Queen._ Why, the House
Have hardly met.
_Lady Carlisle._ They met for that.
_Queen._ No, no!
Meet to impeach Lord Strafford? 'Tis a jest.
_Lady Carlisle._ A bitter one.
_Queen._ Consider! 'Tis the House
We summoned so reluctantly, which nothing
But the disastrous issue of the war
Persuaded us to summon. They'll wreak all
Their spite on us, no doubt; but the old way
Is to begin by talk of grievances:
They have their grievances to busy them.
_Lady Carlisle._ Pym has begun his speech.
_Queen._ Where's Vane?--That is,
Pym will impeach Lord Strafford if he leaves
His Presidency; he's at York, we know,
Since the Scots beat him: why should he leave York?
_Lady Carlisle._ Because the King sent for him.
_Queen._ Ah--but if
The King did send for him, he let him know
We had been forced to call a Parliament--
A step which Strafford, now I come to think,
Was vehement against.
_Lady Carlisle._ The policy
Escaped him, of first striking Parliaments
To earth, then setting them upon their feet
And giving them a sword: but this is idle.
Did the King send for Strafford? He will come.
_Queen._ And what am I to do?
_Lady Carlisle._ What do? Fail, madam!
Be ruined for his sake! what matters how,
So it but stand on record that you made
An effort, only one?
_Queen._ The King away
At Theobald's!
_Lady Carlisle._ Send for him at once: he must
Dissolve the House.
_Queen._ Wait till Vane finds the truth
Of the report: then....
_Lady Carlisle._ --It will matter little
What the King does. Strafford that lends his arm
And breaks his heart for you!
_+Sir+ H. VANE enters._
_Vane._ The Commons, madam,
Are sitting with closed doors. A huge debate,
No lack of noise; but nothing, I should guess,
Concerning Strafford: Pym has certainly
Not spoken yet.
_Queen_ [_to +Lady+ CARLISLE_]. You hear?
_Lady Carlisle._ I do not hear
That the King's sent for!
_Vane._ Savile will be able
To tell you more.
_HOLLAND enters._
_Queen._ The last news, Holland?
_Holland._ Pym
Is raging like a fire. The whole House means
To follow him together to Whitehall
And force the King to give up Strafford.
_Queen._ Strafford?
_Holland._ If they content themselves with Strafford! Laud
Is talked of, Cottington and Windebank too.
Pym has not left out one of them--I would
You heard Pym raging!
_Queen._ Vane, go find the King!
Tell the King, Vane, the People follow Pym
To brave us at Whitehall!
_SAVILE enters._
_Savile._ Not to Whitehall--
'Tis to the Lords they go: they seek redress
On Strafford from his peers--the legal way,
They call it.
_Queen._ (Wait, Vane!)
_Savile._ But the adage gives
Long life to threatened men. Strafford can save
Himself so readily: at York, remember,
In his own country: what has he to fear?
The Commons only mean to frighten him
From leaving York. Surely, he will not come.
_Queen._ Lucy, he will not come!
_Lady Carlisle._ Once more, the King
Has sent for Strafford. He will come.
_Vane._ Oh doubtless!
And bring destruction with him: that's his way.
What but his coming spoilt all Conway's plan?
The King must take his counsel, choose his friends,
Be wholly ruled by him! What's the result?
The North that was to rise, Ireland to help,--
What came of it? In my poor mind, a fright
Is no prodigious punishment.
_Lady Carlisle._ A fright?
Pym will fail worse than Strafford if he thinks
To frighten him. [_To the QUEEN._] You will not save him then?
_Savile._ When something like a charge is made, the King
Will best know how to save him: and t'is clear,
While Strafford suffers nothing by the matter,
The King may reap advantage: this in question,
No dinning you with ship-money complaints!
_Queen_ [_to +Lady+ CARLISLE_]. If we dissolve them, who will pay
the army?
Protect us from the insolent Scots?
_Lady Carlisle._ In truth,
I know not, madam. Strafford's fate concerns
Me little: you desired to learn what course
Would save him: I obey you.
_Vane._ Notice, too,
There can't be fairer ground for taking full
Revenge--(Strafford's revengeful)--than he'll have
Against his old friend Pym.
_Queen._ Why, he shall claim
Vengeance on Pym!
_Vane._ And Strafford, who is he
To 'scape unscathed amid the accidents
That harass all beside? I, for my part,
Should look for something of discomfiture
Had the King trusted me so thoroughly
And been so paid for it.
_Holland._ He'll keep at York:
All will blow over: he'll return no worse,
Humbled a little, thankful for a place
Under as good a man. Oh, we'll dispense
With seeing Strafford for a month or two!
_STRAFFORD enters._
_Queen._ You here!
_Strafford._ The King sends for me, madam.
_Queen._ Sir,
The King....
_Strafford._ An urgent matter that imports the King!
[_To +Lady+ CARLISLE._] Why, Lucy, what's in agitation now,
That all this muttering and shrugging, see,
Begins at me? They do not speak!
_Lady Carlisle._ 'Tis welcome!
For we are proud of you--happy and proud
To have you with us, Strafford! You were staunch
At Durham: you did well there! Had you not
Been stayed, you might have ... we said, even now,
Our hope's in you!
_Vane_ [_to +Lady+ CARLISLE_]. The Queen would speak with you.
_Strafford._ Will one of you, his servants here, vouchsafe
To signify my presence to the King?
_Savile._ An urgent matter?
_Strafford._ None that touches you,
Lord Savile! Say, it were some treacherous
Sly pitiful intriguing with the Scots--
You would go free, at least! (They half divine
My purpose!) Madam, shall I see the King?
The service I would render, much concerns
His welfare.
_Queen._ But his Majesty, my lord,
May not be here, may....
_Strafford._ Its importance, then,
Must plead excuse for this withdrawal, madam,
And for the grief it gives Lord Savile here.
_Queen_ [_who has been conversing with VANE and HOLLAND_].
The King will see you, sir!
[_To +Lady+ CARLISLE._] Mark me: Pym's worst
Is done by now: he has impeached the Earl,
Or found the Earl too strong for him, by now.
Let us not seem instructed! We should work
No good to Strafford, but deform ourselves
With shame in the world's eye. [_To STRAFFORD._] His Majesty
Has much to say with you.
_Strafford._ Time fleeting, too!
[_To +Lady+ CARLISLE._] No means of getting them away? And She--
What does she whisper? Does she know my purpose?
What does she think of it? Get them away!
_Queen_ [_to +Lady+ CARLISLE_]. He comes to baffle Pym--he thinks
the danger
Far off: tell him no word of it! a time
For help will come; we'll not be wanting then.
Keep him in play, Lucy--you, self-possessed
And calm! [_To STRAFFORD._] To spare your lordship some delay
I will myself acquaint the King. [_To +Lady+ CARLISLE._] Beware!
[_The QUEEN, VANE, HOLLAND, and SAVILE go out._
_Strafford._ She knows it?
_Lady Carlisle._ Tell me, Strafford!
_Strafford._ Afterward!
This moment's the great moment of all time.
She knows my purpose?
_Lady Carlisle._ Thoroughly: just now
She bade me hide it from you.
_Strafford._ Quick, dear child,
The whole o' the scheme?
_Lady Carlisle._ (Ah, he would learn if they
Connive at Pym's procedure! Could they but
Have once apprised the King! But there's no time
For falsehood, now.) Strafford, the whole is known.
_Strafford._ Known and approved?
_Lady Carlisle._ Hardly discountenanced.
_Strafford._ And the King--say, the King consents as well?
_Lady Carlisle._ The King's not yet informed, but will not dare
To interpose.
_Strafford._ What need to wait him, then?
He'll sanction it! I stayed, child, tell him, long!
It vexed me to the soul--this waiting here.
You know him, there's no counting on the King.
Tell him I waited long!
_Lady Carlisle._ (What can he mean?
Rejoice at the King's hollowness?)
_Strafford._ I knew
They would be glad of it,--all over once,
I knew they would be glad: but he'd contrive,
The Queen and he, to mar, by helping it,
An angel's making.
_Lady Carlisle._ (Is he mad?) Dear Strafford,
You were not wont to look so happy.
_Strafford._ Sweet,
I tried obedience thoroughly. I took
The King's wild plan: of course, ere I could reach
My army, Conway ruined it. I drew
The wrecks together, raised all heaven and earth,
And would have fought the Scots: the King at once
Made truce with them. Then, Lucy, then, dear child,
God put it in my mind to love, serve, die
For Charles, but never to obey him more!
While he endured their insolence at Ripon
I fell on them at Durham. But you'll tell
The King I waited? All the anteroom
Is filled with my adherents.
_Lady Carlisle._ Strafford--Strafford,
What daring act is this you hint?
_Strafford._ No, no!
'Tis here, not daring if you knew? all here!
[_Drawing papers from his breast._
Full proof, see, ample proof--does the Queen know
I have such damning proof? Bedford and Essex,
Brooke, Warwick, Savile (did you notice Savile?
The simper that I spoilt?), Saye, Mandeville--
Sold to the Scots, body and soul, by Pym!
_Lady Carlisle._ Great heaven!
_Strafford._ From Savile and his lords, to Pym
And his losels, crushed!--Pym shall not ward the blow
Nor Savile creep aside from it! The Crew
And the Cabal--I crush them!
_Lady Carlisle._ And you go--
Strafford,--and now you go?--
_Strafford._ --About no work
In the background, I promise you! I go
Straight to the House of Lords to claim these knaves.
Mainwaring!
_Lady Carlisle._ Stay--stay, Strafford!
_Strafford._ She'll return,
The Queen--some little project of her own!
No time to lose: the King takes fright perhaps.
_Lady Carlisle._ Pym's strong, remember!
_Strafford._ Very strong, as fits
The Faction's head--with no offence to Hampden,
Vane, Rudyard and my loving Hollis: one
And all they lodge within the Tower to-night
In just equality. Bryan! Mainwaring!
[_Many of his +Adherents+ enter._
The Peers debate just now (a lucky chance)
On the Scots' war; my visit's opportune.
When all is over, Bryan, you proceed
To Ireland: these dispatches, mark me, Bryan,
Are for the Deputy, and these for Ormond:
We want the army here--my army, raised
At such a cost, that should have done such good,
And was inactive all the time! no matter,
We'll find a use for it. Willis ... or, no--you!
You, friend, make haste to York: bear this, at once ...
Or,--better stay for form's sake, see yourself
The news you carry. You remain with me
To execute the Parliament's command,
Mainwaring! Help to seize these lesser knaves,
Take care there's no escaping at backdoors:
I'll not have one escape, mind me--not one!
I seem revengeful, Lucy? Did you know
What these men dare!
_Lady Carlisle._ It is so much they dare!
_Strafford._ I proved that long ago; my turn is now.
Keep sharp watch, Goring, on the citizens!
Observe who harbors any of the brood
That scramble off: be sure they smart for it!
Our coffers are but lean.
And you, child, too,
Shall have your task; deliver this to Laud.
Laud will not be the slowest in thy praise:
"Thorough" he'll cry!--Foolish, to be so glad!
This life is gay and glowing, after all:
'Tis worth while, Lucy, having foes like mine
Just for the bliss of crushing them. To-day
Is worth the living for.
_Lady Carlisle._ That reddening brow!
You seem....
_Strafford._ Well--do I not? I would be well--
I could not but be well on such a day!
And, this day ended, 'tis of slight import
How long the ravaged frame subjects the soul
In Strafford.
_Lady Carlisle._ Noble Strafford!
_Strafford._ No farewell!
I'll see you anon, to-morrow--the first thing.
--If She should come to stay me!
_Lady Carlisle._ Go--'tis nothing--
Only my heart that swells: it has been thus
Ere now: go, Strafford!
_Strafford._ To-night, then, let it be.
I must see Him: you, the next after Him.
I'll tell how Pym looked. Follow me, friends!
You, gentlemen, shall see a sight this hour
To talk of all your lives. Close after me!
"My friend of friends!"
[_STRAFFORD and the rest go out._
_Lady Carlisle._ The King--ever the King!
No thought of one beside, whose little word
Unveils the King to him--one word from me,
Which yet I do not breathe!
Ah, have I spared
Strafford a pang, and shall I seek reward
Beyond that memory? Surely too, some way
He is the better for my love. No, no--
He would not look so joyous--I'll believe
His very eye would never sparkle thus,
Had I not prayed for him this long, long while.
SCENE III.--_The Antechamber of the House of Lords._
_Many of the Presbyterian Party. The +Adherents+ of STRAFFORD, etc._
_A Group of Presbyterians._ --1. I tell you he struck Maxwell:
Maxwell sought
To stay the Earl: he struck him and passed on.
2. Fear as you may, keep a good countenance
Before these rufflers.
3. Strafford here the first,
With the great army at his back!
4. No doubt.
I would Pym had made haste: that's Bryan, hush--
The gallant pointing.
_Strafford's Followers._ --1. Mark these worthies, now!
2. A goodly gathering! "Where the carcass is
There shall the eagles"--what's the rest?
3. For eagles
Say crows.
_A Presbyterian._ Stand back, sirs!
_One of Strafford's Followers._ Are we in Geneva?
_A Presbyterian._ No, nor in Ireland; we have leave to breathe.
_One of Strafford's Followers._ Truly? Behold how privileged we be
That serve "King Pym"! There's Some-one at Whitehall
Who skulks obscure; but Pym struts....
_The Presbyterian._ Nearer.
_A Follower of Strafford._ Higher,
We look to see him. [_To his +Companions+._] I'm to have St. John
In charge; was he among the knaves just now
That followed Pym within there?
_Another._ The gaunt man
Talking with Rudyard. Did the Earl expect
Pym at his heels so fast? I like it not.
_MAXWELL enters._
_Another._ Why, man, they rush into the net! Here's Maxwell--
Ha, Maxwell? How the brethren flock around
The fellow! Do you feel the Earl's hand yet
Upon your shoulder, Maxwell?
_Maxwell._ Gentlemen,
Stand back! a great thing passes here.
_A Follower of Strafford_ [_To another_]. The Earl
Is at his work! [_To +M.+_] Say, Maxwell, what great thing!
Speak out! [_To a +Presbyterian+._] Friend, I've a kindness for you!
Friend,
I've seen you with St. John: O stockishness!
Wear such a ruff, and never call to mind
St. John's head in a charger? How, the plague,
Not laugh?
_Another._ Say, Maxwell, what great thing!
_Another._ Nay, wait:
The jest will be to wait.
_First._ And who's to bear
These demure hypocrites? You'd swear they came ...
Came ... just as we come!
[_A +Puritan+ enters hastily and without observing STRAFFORD'S
+Followers+._
_The Puritan._ How goes on the work?
Has Pym....
_A Follower of Strafford._ The secret's out at last. Aha,
The carrion's scented! Welcome, crow the first!
Gorge merrily, you with the blinking eye!
"King Pym has fallen!"
_The Puritan._ Pym?
_A Strafford._ Pym!
_A Presbyterian._ Only Pym?
_Many of Strafford's Followers._ No, brother, not Pym only;
Vane as well,
Rudyard as well, Hampden, St. John as well!
_A Presbyterian._ My mind misgives: can it be true?
_Another._ Lost! Lost!
_A Strafford._ Say we true, Maxwell?
_The Puritan._ Pride before destruction,
A haughty spirit goeth before a fall.
_Many of Strafford's Followers._ Ah now! The very thing!
A word in season!
A golden apple in a silver picture,
To greet Pym as he passes!
[_The doors at the back begin to open, noise and light issuing._
_Maxwell._ Stand back, all!
_Many of the Presbyterians._ I hold with Pym! And I!
_Strafford's Followers._ Now for the text!
He comes! Quick!
_The Puritan._ How hath the oppressor ceased!
The Lord hath broken the staff of the wicked!
The sceptre of the rulers, he who smote
The people in wrath with a continual stroke,
That ruled the nations in his anger--he
Is persecuted and none hindreth!
[_The doors open, and STRAFFORD issues in the greatest disorder, and
amid cries from within of "+Void the House+!"_
_Strafford._ Impeach me! Pym! I never struck, I think,
The felon on that calm insulting mouth
When it proclaimed--Pym's mouth proclaimed me ... God!
Was it a word, only a word that held
The outrageous blood back on my heart--which beats!
Which beats! Some one word--"Traitor," did he say,
Bending that eye, brimful of bitter fire,
Upon me?
_Maxwell._ In the Commons' name, their servant
Demands Lord Strafford's sword.
_Strafford._ What did you say?
_Maxwell._ The Commons bid me ask your lordship's sword.
_Strafford._ Let us go forth: follow me, gentlemen!
Draw your swords too: cut any down that bar us.
On the King's service! Maxwell, clear the way!
[_The +Presbyterians+ prepare to dispute his passage._
_Strafford._ I stay: the King himself shall see me here.
Your tablets, fellow!
[_To MAINWARING._] Give that to the King!
Yes, Maxwell, for the next half-hour, let be!
Nay, you shall take my sword!
[_MAXWELL advances to take it._
Or, no--not that!
Their blood, perhaps, may wipe out all thus far,
All up to that--not that! Why, friend, you see
When the King lays your head beneath my foot
It will not pay for that. Go, all of you!
_Maxwell._ I dare, my lord, to disobey: none stir!
_Strafford._ This gentle Maxwell!--Do not touch him, Bryan!
[_To the +Presbyterians+._] Whichever cur of you will carry this
Escapes his fellow's fate. None saves his life?
None?
[_Cries from within of "STRAFFORD!"_
Slingsby, I've loved you at least: make haste!
Stab me! I have not time to tell you why.
You then, my Bryan! Mainwaring, you then!
Is it because I spoke so hastily
At Allerton? The King had vexed me.
[_To the +Presbyterians+._] You!
--Not even you? If I live over this,
The King is sure to have your heads, you know!
But what if I can't live this minute through?
Pym, who is there with his pursuing smile!
[_Louder cries of "STRAFFORD!"_
The King! I troubled him, stood in the way
Of his negotiations, was the one
Great obstacle to peace, the Enemy
Of Scotland: and he sent for me, from York,
My safety guaranteed--having prepared
A Parliament--I see! And at Whitehall
The Queen was whispering with Vane--I see
The trap!
[_Tearing off the George._
I tread a gewgaw underfoot,
And cast a memory from me. One stroke, now!
[_His own +Adherents+ disarm him. Renewed cries of "STRAFFORD!"_
England! I see thy arm in this and yield.
Pray you now--Pym awaits me--pray you now!
[_STRAFFORD reaches the doors: they open wide. HAMPDEN and a crowd
discovered, and, at the bar, PYM standing apart. As STRAFFORD kneels,
the scene shuts._
[Illustration: Westminster Hall]
The history of the fourth act deals with further episodes of Strafford's
trial, especially with the change in the procedure from Impeachment to a
Bill of Attainder against Strafford. The details of this great trial are
complicated and cannot be followed in all their ramifications here.
There was danger that the Impeachment would not go through. Strafford,
himself, felt confident that in law his actions could not be found
treasonable.
After Strafford's brilliant defense of himself, it was decided to bring
in a Bill of Attainder. New evidence against Strafford contained in
some notes which the younger Vane had found among his father's papers
were used to strengthen the charge of treason. In these notes Strafford
had advised the King to act "loose and absolved from all rules of
government," and had reminded him that there was an army in Ireland,
ready to reduce the Kingdom. These notes were found by the merest
accident. The younger Vane who had just been knighted and was about to
be married, borrowed his father's keys in order to look up some law
papers. In his search he fell upon these notes taken at a committee that
met immediately after the dissolution of the short Parliament. He made a
copy and carried it to Pym who also made a copy.
According to Baillie, the "secret" of the change from the Impeachment to
the Bill was "to prevent the hearing of the Earl's lawyers, who give out
that there is no law yet in force whereby he can be condemned to die for
aught yet objected against him, and therefore their intent by this Bill
to supply the defect of the laws therein." To this may be added the
opinion of a member of the Commons. "If the House of Commons proceeds to
demand judgment of the Lords, without doubt they will acquit him, there
being no law extant whereby to condemn him of treason. Wherefore the
Commons are determined to desert the Lord's judicature, and to proceed
against him by Bill of Attainder, whereby he shall be adjudged to death
upon a treason now to be declared."
One of the chief results in this change of procedure, emphasized by
Browning in an intense scene between Pym and Charles was that it altered
entirely the King's attitude towards Strafford's trial. As Baillie
expresses it, "Had the Commons gone on in the former way of pursuit, the
King might have been a patient, and only beheld the striking off of
Strafford's head; but now they have put them on a Bill which will force
the King either to be our agent and formal voicer to his death, or else
do the world knows not what."
For the sake of a gain in dramatic power, Browning has once more
departed from history by making Pym the moving power in the Bill of
Attainder, and Hampden in favor of it; while in reality they were
opposed to the change in procedure, and believed that the Impeachment
could have been carried through.
The relentless, scourging force of Pym in the play, pursuing the
arch-foe of England as he regarded Wentworth to the death, once he is
convinced that England's welfare demands it, would have been weakened
had he been represented in favor of the policy which was abandoned,
instead of with the policy that succeeded. But Pym is made to intimate
that he will abandon the Bill unless the King gives his word that he
will ratify it, and further, Pym declares, should he not ratify the Bill
his next step will be against the King himself.
_Enter HAMPDEN and VANE._
_Vane._ O Hampden, save the great misguided man!
Plead Strafford's cause with Pym! I have remarked
He moved no muscle when we all declaimed
Against him: you had but to breathe--he turned
Those kind calm eyes upon you.
[_Enter PYM, the +Solicitor-General+ ST. JOHN, the +Managers+ of the
Trial, FIENNES, RUDYARD, etc._
_Rudyard._ Horrible!
Till now all hearts were with you: I withdraw
For one. Too horrible! But we mistake
Your purpose, Pym: you cannot snatch away
The last spar from the drowning man.
_Fiennes._ He talks
With St. John of it--see, how quietly!
[_To other +Presbyterians+._] You'll join us? Strafford may deserve
the worst:
But this new course is monstrous. Vane, take heart!
This Bill of his Attainder shall not have
One true man's hand to it.
_Vane._ Consider, Pym!
Confront your Bill, your own Bill: what is it?
You cannot catch the Earl on any charge,--
No man will say the law has hold of him
On any charge; and therefore you resolve
To take the general sense on his desert,
As though no law existed, and we met
To found one. You refer to Parliament
To speak its thought upon the abortive mass
Of half-borne-out assertions, dubious hints
Hereafter to be cleared, distortions--ay,
And wild inventions. Every man is saved
The task of fixing any single charge
On Strafford: he has but to see in him
The enemy of England.
_Pym._ A right scruple!
I have heard some called England's enemy
With less consideration.
_Vane._ Pity me!
Indeed you made me think I was your friend!
I who have murdered Strafford, how remove
That memory from me?
_Pym._ I absolve you, Vane.
Take you no care for aught that you have done!
_Vane._ John Hampden, not this Bill! Reject this Bill!
He staggers through the ordeal: let him go,
Strew no fresh fire before him! Plead for us!
When Strafford spoke, your eyes were thick with tears!
_Hampden._ England speaks louder: who are we, to play
The generous pardoner at her expense,
Magnanimously waive advantages,
And, if he conquer us, applaud his skill?
_Vane._ He was your friend.
_Pym._ I have heard that before.
_Fiennes._ And England trusts you.
_Hampden._ Shame be his, who turns
The opportunity of serving her
She trusts him with, to his own mean account--
Who would look nobly frank at her expense!
_Fiennes._ I never thought it could have come to this.
_Pym._ But I have made myself familiar, Fiennes,
With this one thought--have walked, and sat, and slept,
This thought before me. I have done such things,
Being the chosen man that should destroy
The traitor. You have taken up this thought
To play with, for a gentle stimulant,
To give a dignity to idler life
By the dim prospect of emprise to come,
But ever with the softening, sure belief,
That all would end some strange way right at last.
_Fiennes._ Had we made out some weightier charge!
_Pym._ You say
That these are petty charges: can we come
To the real charge at all? There he is safe
In tyranny's stronghold. Apostasy
Is not a crime, treachery not a crime:
The cheek burns, the blood tingles, when you speak
The words, but where's the power to take revenge
Upon them? We must make occasion serve,--
The oversight shall pay for the main sin
That mocks us.
_Rudyard._ But his unexampled course,
This Bill!
_Pym._ By this, we roll the clouds away
Of precedent and custom, and at once
Bid the great beacon-light God sets in all,
The conscience of each bosom, shine upon
The guilt of Strafford: each man lay his hand
Upon his breast, and judge!
_Vane._ I only see
Strafford, nor pass his corpse for all beyond!
_Rudyard and others._ Forgive him! He would join us, now he finds
What the King counts reward! The pardon, too,
Should be your own. Yourself should bear to Strafford
The pardon of the Commons.
_Pym._ Meet him? Strafford?
Have we to meet once more, then? Be it so!
And yet--the prophecy seemed half fulfilled
When, at the Trial, as he gazed, my youth,
Our friendship, divers thoughts came back at once
And left me, for a time.... 'Tis very sad!
To-morrow we discuss the points of law
With Lane--to-morrow?
_Vane._ Not before to-morrow--
So, time enough! I knew you would relent!
_Pym._ The next day, Haselrig, you introduce
The Bill of his Attainder. Pray for me!
SCENE III.--_Whitehall._
_The KING._
_Charles._ My loyal servant! To defend himself
Thus irresistibly,--withholding aught
That seemed to implicate us!
We have done
Less gallantly by Strafford. Well, the future
Must recompense the past.
She tarries long.
I understand you, Strafford, now!
The scheme--
Carlisle's mad scheme--he'll sanction it, I fear,
For love of me. 'Twas too precipitate:
Before the army's fairly on its march,
He'll be at large: no matter.
Well, Carlisle?
_Enter PYM._
_Pym._ Fear me not, sir:--my mission is to save,
This time.
_Charles._ To break thus on me! Unannounced!
_Pym._ It is of Strafford I would speak.
_Charles._ No more
Of Strafford! I have heard too much from you.
_Pym._ I spoke, sir, for the People; will you hear
A word upon my own account?
_Charles._ Of Strafford?
(So turns the tide already? Have we tamed
The insolent brawler?--Strafford's eloquence
Is swift in its effect.) Lord Strafford, sir,
Has spoken for himself.
_Pym._ Sufficiently.
I would apprise you of the novel course
The People take: the Trial fails.
_Charles._ Yes, yes:
We are aware, sir: for your part in it
Means shall be found to thank you.
_Pym._ Pray you, read
This schedule! I would learn from your own mouth
--(It is a matter much concerning me)--
Whether, if two Estates of us concede
The death of Strafford, on the grounds set forth
Within that parchment, you, sir, can resolve
To grant your own consent to it. This Bill
Is framed by me. If you determine, sir,
That England's manifested will should guide
Your judgment, ere another week such will
Shall manifest itself. If not,--I cast
Aside the measure.
_Charles._ You can hinder, then,
The introduction of this Bill?
_Pym._ I can.
_Charles._ He is my friend, sir: I have wronged him: mark you,
Had I not wronged him, this might be. You think
Because you hate the Earl ... (turn not away,
We know you hate him)--no one else could love
Strafford: but he has saved me, some affirm.
Think of his pride! And do you know one strange,
One frightful thing? We all have used the man
As though a drudge of ours, with not a source
Of happy thoughts except in us; and yet
Strafford has wife and children, household cares,
Just as if we had never been. Ah sir,
You are moved, even you, a solitary man
Wed to your cause--to England if you will!
_Pym._ Yes--think, my soul--to England! Draw not back!
_Charles._ Prevent that Bill, sir! All your course seems fair
Till now. Why, in the end, 'tis I should sign
The warrant for his death! You have said much
I ponder on; I never meant, indeed,
Strafford should serve me any more. I take
The Commons' counsel; but this Bill is yours--
Nor worthy of its leader: care not, sir,
For that, however! I will quite forget
You named it to me. You are satisfied?
_Pym._ Listen to me, sir! Eliot laid his hand,
Wasted and white, upon my forehead once;
Wentworth--he's gone now!--has talked on, whole nights,
And I beside him; Hampden loves me: sir,
How can I breathe and not wish England well,
And her King well?
_Charles._ I thank you, sir, who leave
That King his servant. Thanks, sir!
_Pym._ Let me speak!
--Who may not speak again; whose spirit yearns
For a cool night after this weary day:
--Who would not have my soul turn sicker yet
In a new task, more fatal, more august,
More full of England's utter weal or woe.
I thought, sir, could I find myself with you,
After this trial, alone, as man to man--
I might say something, warn you, pray you, save--
Mark me, King Charles, save----you!
But God must do it. Yet I warn you, sir--
(With Strafford's faded eyes yet full on me)
As you would have no deeper question moved
--"How long the Many must endure the One,"
Assure me, sir, if England give assent
To Strafford's death, you will not interfere!
Or----
_Charles._ God forsakes me. I am in a net
And cannot move. Let all be as you say!
_Enter +Lady+ CARLISLE._
_Lady Carlisle._ He loves you--looking beautiful with joy
Because you sent me! he would spare you all
The pain! he never dreamed you would forsake
Your servant in the evil day--nay, see
Your scheme returned! That generous heart of his!
He needs it not--or, needing it, disdains
A course that might endanger you--you, sir,
Whom Strafford from his inmost soul....
[_Seeing PYM._] Well met!
No fear for Strafford! All that's true and brave
On your own side shall help us: we are now
Stronger than ever.
Ha--what, sir, is this?
All is not well! What parchment have you there?
_Pym._ Sir, much is saved us both.
_Lady Carlisle._ This Bill! Your lip
Whitens--you could not read one line to me
Your voice would falter so!
_Pym._ No recreant yet!
The great word went from England to my soul,
And I arose. The end is very near.
_Lady Carlisle._ I am to save him! All have shrunk beside;
'Tis only I am left. Heaven will make strong
The hand now as the heart. Then let both die!
In the last act Browning has drawn upon his imagination more than in any
other part of the play. Strafford in prison in the Tower is the center
around which all the other elements of the drama are made to revolve. A
glimpse, the first, of the man in a purely human capacity is given in
the second scene with Strafford and his children. From all accounts
little Anne was a precocious child and Browning has sketched her
accordingly. The scene is like a gleam of sunshine in the gathering
gloom.
The genuine grief felt by the historical Charles over the part he played
in the ruin of Strafford is brought out in an interview between
Strafford and Charles, who is represented as coming disguised to the
prison. Strafford who has been hoping for pardon from the King learns
from Hollis, in the King's presence, that the King has signed his death
warrant. He receives this shock with the remark which history attributes
to him.
"Put not your trust
In princes, neither in the sons of men,
In whom is no salvation!"
History tells us of two efforts to rescue Strafford. One of these was an
attempt to bribe Balfour to allow him to escape from the tower. This
hint the Poet has worked up into the episode of Charles, calling Balfour
and begging him to go at once to Parliament, to say he will grant all
demands, and that he chooses to pardon Strafford. History, however, does
not say that Lady Carlisle was implicated in any plan for the rescue of
Strafford, of which Browning makes so much. According to Gardiner, she
was by this time bestowing her favors upon Pym. Devotion to the truth
here on Browning's part would have completely ruined the inner unity of
the play. Carlisle, the woman ready to devote herself to Strafford's
utmost need, while Strafford is more or less indifferent to her is the
artistic compliment of Strafford the man devoted to the unresponsive
King. The failure of the escape through Pym's intervention is a final
dramatic climax bringing face to face not so much the two individual men
as the two principles of government for which England was warring, the
Monarchical and the Parliamentary. To the last, Strafford is loyal to
the King and the Kingly idea, while Pym crushing his human feelings
under foot, calmly contemplates the sacrifice not only of Strafford, but
even of the King, if England's need demand it.
In this supreme moment of agony when Strafford and Pym meet face to face
both men are made to realize an abiding love for each other beneath all
their earthly differences. "A great poet of our own day," writes
Gardiner, "clothing the reconciling spirit of the nineteenth century in
words which never could have been spoken in the seventeenth, has
breathed a high wish. On his page an imaginary Pym, recalling an
imaginary friendship, looks forward hopefully to a reunion in a better
and brighter world."
SCENE II.--_The Tower._
_STRAFFORD sitting with his +Children+. They sing._
_O bell 'andare
Per barca in mare,
Verso la sera
Di Primavera!_
_William._ The boat's in the broad moonlight all this while--
_Verso la sera
Di Primavera!_
And the boat shoots from underneath the moon
Into the shadowy distance; only still
You hear the dipping oar--
_Verso la sera_,
And faint, and fainter, and then all's quite gone,
Music and light and all, like a lost star.
_Anne._ But you should sleep, father; you were to sleep.
_Strafford._ I do sleep, Anne; or if not--you must know
There's such a thing as....
_William._ You're too tired to sleep?
_Strafford._ It will come by-and-by and all day long,
In that old quiet house I told you of:
We sleep safe there.
_Anne._ Why not in Ireland?
_Strafford._ No!
Too many dreams!--That song's for Venice, William:
You know how Venice looks upon the map--
Isles that the mainland hardly can let go?
_William._ You've been to Venice, father?
_Strafford._ I was young, then.
_William._ A city with no King; that's why I like
Even a song that comes from Venice.
_Strafford._ William!
_William._ Oh, I know why! Anne, do you love the King?
But I'll see Venice for myself one day.
_Strafford._ See many lands, boy--England last of all,--
That way you'll love her best.
[Illustration: The Tower, London]
_William._ Why do men say
You sought to ruin her then?
_Strafford._ Ah,--they say that.
_William._ Why?
_Strafford._ I suppose they must have words to say,
As you to sing.
_Anne._ But they make songs beside:
Last night I heard one, in the street beneath,
That called you.... Oh, the names!
_William._ Don't mind her, father!
They soon left off when I cried out to them.
_Strafford._ We shall so soon be out of it, my boy!
'Tis not worth while: who heeds a foolish song?
_William._ Why, not the King.
_Strafford._ Well: it has been the fate
Of better; and yet,--wherefore not feel sure
That Time, who in the twilight comes to mend
All the fantastic day's caprice, consign
To the low ground once more the ignoble Term,
And raise the Genius on his orb again,--
That Time will do me right?
_Anne._ (Shall we sing, William?
He does not look thus when we sing.)
_Strafford._ For Ireland,
Something is done: too little, but enough
To show what might have been.
_William._ (I have no heart
To sing now! Anne, how very sad he looks!
Oh, I so hate the King for all he says!)
_Strafford._ Forsook them! What, the common songs will run
That I forsook the People? Nothing more?
Ay, Fame, the busy scribe, will pause, no doubt,
Turning a deaf ear to her thousand slaves
Noisy to be enrolled,--will register
The curious glosses, subtle notices,
Ingenious clearings-up one fain would see
Beside that plain inscription of The Name--
The Patriot Pym, or the Apostate Strafford!
[_The +Children+ resume their song timidly, but break off._
_Enter HOLLIS and an +Attendant+._
_Strafford._ No,--Hollis? in good time!--Who is he?
_Hollis._ One
That must be present.
_Strafford._ Ah--I understand.
They will not let me see poor Laud alone.
How politic! They'd use me by degrees
To solitude: and, just as you came in,
I was solicitous what life to lead
When Strafford's "not so much as Constable
In the King's service." Is there any means
To keep oneself awake? What would you do
After this bustle, Hollis, in my place?
_Hollis._ Strafford!
_Strafford._ Observe, not but that Pym and you
Will find me news enough--news I shall hear
Under a quince-tree by a fish-pond side
At Wentworth. Garrard must be re-engaged
My newsman. Or, a better project now--
What if when all's consummated, and the Saints
Reign, and the Senate's work goes swimmingly,--
What if I venture up, some day, unseen,
To saunter through the Town, notice how Pym,
Your Tribune, likes Whitehall, drop quietly
Into a tavern, hear a point discussed,
As, whether Strafford's name were John or James--
And be myself appealed to--I, who shall
Myself have near forgotten!
_Hollis._ I would speak....
_Strafford._ Then you shall speak,--not now. I want just now,
To hear the sound of my own tongue. This place
Is full of ghosts.
_Hollis._ Nay, you must hear me, Strafford!
_Strafford._ Oh, readily! Only, one rare thing more,--
The minister! Who will advise the King,
Turn his Sejanus, Richelieu and what not,
And yet have health--children, for aught I know--
My patient pair of traitors! Ah,--but, William--
Does not his cheek grow thin?
_William._ 'Tis you look thin, Father!
_Strafford._ A scamper o'er the breezy wolds
Sets all to-rights.
_Hollis._ You cannot sure forget
A prison-roof is o'er you, Strafford?
_Strafford._ No,
Why, no. I would not touch on that, the first.
I left you that. Well, Hollis? Say at once,
The King can find no time to set me free!
A mask at Theobald's?
_Hollis._ Hold: no such affair
Detains him.
_Strafford._ True: what needs so great a matter?
The Queen's lip may be sore. Well: when he pleases,--
Only, I want the air: it vexes flesh
To be pent up so long.
_Hollis._ The King--I bear
His message, Strafford: pray you, let me speak!
_Strafford._ Go, William! Anne, try o'er your song again!
[_The +Children+ retire._
They shall be loyal, friend, at all events.
I know your message: you have nothing new
To tell me: from the first I guessed as much.
I know, instead of coming here himself,
Leading me forth in public by the hand,
The King prefers to leave the door ajar
As though I were escaping--bids me trudge
While the mob gapes upon some show prepared
On the other side of the river! Give at once
His order of release! I've heard, as well
Of certain poor manoeuvres to avoid
The granting pardon at his proper risk;
First, he must prattle somewhat to the Lords,
Must talk a trifle with the Commons first,
Be grieved I should abuse his confidence,
And far from blaming them, and.... Where's the order?
_Hollis._ Spare me!
_Strafford._ Why, he'd not have me steal away?
With an old doublet and a steeple hat
Like Prynne's? Be smuggled into France, perhaps?
Hollis, 'tis for my children! 'Twas for them
I first consented to stand day by day
And give your Puritans the best of words,
Be patient, speak when called upon, observe
Their rules, and not return them prompt their lie!
What's in that boy of mine that he should prove
Son to a prison-breaker? I shall stay
And he'll stay with me. Charles should know as much,
He too has children!
[_Turning to HOLLIS'S +Companion+._] Sir, you feel for me!
No need to hide that face! Though it have looked
Upon me from the judgment-seat ... I know
Strangely, that somewhere it has looked on me, ...
Your coming has my pardon, nay, my thanks:
For there is one who comes not.
_Hollis._ Whom forgive,
As one to die!
_Strafford._ True, all die, and all need
Forgiveness: I forgive him from my soul.
_Hollis._ 'Tis a world's wonder: Strafford, you must die!
_Strafford._ Sir, if your errand is to set me free
This heartless jest mars much. Ha! Tears in truth?
We'll end this! See this paper, warm--feel--warm
With lying next my heart! Whose hand is there?
Whose promise? Read, and loud for God to hear!
"Strafford shall take no hurt"--read it, I say!
"In person, honor, nor estate"--
_Hollis._ The King....
_Strafford._ I could unking him by a breath! You sit
Where Loudon sat, who came to prophesy
The certain end, and offer me Pym's grace
If I'd renounce the King: and I stood firm
On the King's faith. The King who lives....
_Hollis._ To sign
The warrant for your death.
_Strafford._ "Put not your trust
In princes, neither in the sons of men,
In whom is no salvation!"
_Hollis._ Trust in God!
The scaffold is prepared: they wait for you:
He has consented. Cast the earth behind!
_Charles._ You would not see me, Strafford, at your foot!
It was wrung from me! Only, curse me not!
_Hollis_ [_to STRAFFORD_]. As you hope grace and pardon in your need,
Be merciful to this most wretched man.
[_Voices from within._
_Verso la sera
Di Primavera_
_Strafford._ You'll be good to those children, sir? I know
You'll not believe her, even should the Queen
Think they take after one they rarely saw.
I had intended that my son should live
A stranger to these matters: but you are
So utterly deprived of friends! He too
Must serve you--will you not be good to him?
Or, stay, sir, do not promise--do not swear!
You, Hollis--do the best you can for me!
I've not a soul to trust to: Wandesford's dead,
And you've got Radcliffe safe, Laud's turn comes next:
I've found small time of late for my affairs,
But I trust any of you, Pym himself--
No one could hurt them: there's an infant, too.
These tedious cares! Your Majesty could spare them.
Nay--pardon me, my King! I had forgotten
Your education, trials, much temptation,
Some weakness: there escaped a peevish word--
'Tis gone: I bless you at the last. You know
All's between you and me: what has the world
To do with it? Farewell!
_Charles_ [_at the door_]. Balfour! Balfour!
_Enter BALFOUR._
The Parliament!--go to them: I grant all
Demands. Their sittings shall be permanent:
Tell them to keep their money if they will:
I'll come to them for every coat I wear
And every crust I eat: only I choose
To pardon Strafford. As the Queen shall choose!
--You never heard the People howl for blood,
Beside!
_Balfour._ Your Majesty may hear them now:
The walls can hardly keep their murmurs out:
Please you retire!
_Charles._ Take all the troops, Balfour!
_Balfour._ There are some hundred thousand of the crowd.
_Charles._ Come with me, Strafford! You'll not fear, at least!
_Strafford._ Balfour, say nothing to the world of this!
I charge you, as a dying man, forget
You gazed upon this agony of one ...
Of one ... or if ... why you may say, Balfour,
The King was sorry: 'tis no shame in him:
Yes, you may say he even wept, Balfour,
And that I walked the lighter to the block
Because of it. I shall walk lightly, sir!
Earth fades, heaven breaks on me: I shall stand next
Before God's throne: the moment's close at hand
When man the first, last time, has leave to lay
His whole heart bare before its Maker, leave
To clear up the long error of a life
And choose one happiness for evermore.
With all mortality about me, Charles,
The sudden wreck, the dregs of violent death--
What if, despite the opening angel-song,
There penetrate one prayer for you? Be saved
Through me! Bear witness, no one could prevent
My death! Lead on! ere he awake--best, now!
All must be ready: did you say, Balfour,
The crowd began to murmur? They'll be kept
Too late for sermon at St. Antholin's!
Now! But tread softly--children are at play
In the next room. Precede! I follow--
_Enter +Lady+ CARLISLE with many +Attendants+._
_Lady Carlisle._ Me!
Follow me, Strafford, and be saved! The King?
[_To the KING._] Well--as you ordered, they are ranged without,
The convoy.... [_seeing the KING'S state._]
[_To STRAFFORD._] You know all, then! Why I thought
It looked best that the King should save you,--Charles
Alone; 'tis a shame that you should owe me aught.
Or no, not shame! Strafford, you'll not feel shame
At being saved by me?
_Hollis._ All true! Oh Strafford,
She saves you! all her deed! this lady's deed!
And is the boat in readiness? You, friend,
Are Billingsley, no doubt. Speak to her, Strafford!
See how she trembles, waiting for your voice!
The world's to learn its bravest story yet.
_Lady Carlisle._ Talk afterward! Long nights in France enough,
To sit beneath the vines and talk of home.
_Strafford._ You love me, child? Ah, Strafford can be loved
As well as Vane! I could escape, then?
_Lady Carlisle._ Haste!
Advance the torches, Bryan!