to have been born a dog or an elephant. It would
require enormous imagination to reconstruct the political
ideals of Strafford. Now Browning, as we all
know, got over the matter in his play, by practically
denying that Strafford had any political ideals at
all. That is to say, while crediting Strafford
with all his real majesty of intellect and character,
he makes the whole of his political action dependent
upon his passionate personal attachment to the King.
This is unsatisfactory; it is in reality a dodging
of the great difficulty of the political play.
That difficulty, in the case of any political problem,
is, as has been said, great. It would be very
hard, for example, to construct a play about Mr. Gladstone’s
Home Rule Bill. It would be almost impossible
to get expressed in a drama of some five acts and
some twenty characters anything so ancient and complicated
as that Irish problem, the roots of which lie in the
darkness of the age of Strongbow, and the branches
of which spread out to the remotest commonwealths
of the East and West. But we should scarcely be
satisfied if a dramatist overcame the difficulty by
ascribing Mr. Gladstone’s action in the Home
Rule question to an overwhelming personal affection
for Mr. Healy. And in thus basing Strafford’s
action upon personal and private reasons, Browning
certainly does some injustice to the political greatness,
of Strafford. To attribute Mr. Gladstone’s
conversion to Home Rule to an infatuation such as that
suggested above, would certainly have the air of implying
that the writer thought the Home Rule doctrine a peculiar
or untenable one. Similarly, Browning’s
choice of a motive for Strafford has very much the
air of an assumption that there was nothing to be said
on public grounds for Strafford’s political
ideal. Now this is certainly not the case.
The Puritans in the great struggles of the reign of
Charles I. may have possessed more valuable ideals
than the Royalists, but it is a very vulgar error
to suppose that they were any more idealistic.
In Browning’s play Pym is made almost the incarnation
of public spirit, and Strafford of private ties.
But not only may an upholder of despotism be public-spirited,
but in the case of prominent upholders of it like
Strafford he generally is. Despotism indeed, and
attempts at despotism, like that of Strafford, are
a kind of disease of public spirit. They represent,
as it were, the drunkenness of responsibility.
It is when men begin to grow desperate in their love
for the people, when they are overwhelmed with the
difficulties and blunders of humanity, that they fall
back upon a wild desire to manage everything themselves.
Their faith in themselves is only a disillusionment
with mankind. They are in that most dreadful
position, dreadful alike in personal and public affairs—the
position of the man who has lost faith and not lost
love. This belief that all would go right if we
could only get the strings into our own hands is a
fallacy almost without exception, but nobody can justly