Browning and His Century Part 8

Gladstone himself wrote in 1892 of the events which occurred in the fifth decade: "Of the various and important incidents which a.s.sociated me almost unawares with foreign affairs ... I will only say that they all contributed to forward the action of those home causes more continuous in their operation, which, without in any way effacing my old sense of reverence for the past, determined for me my place in the present and my direction toward the future." In 1859 Gladstone dined with Cavour at Turin, when the latter had the opportunity of explaining his position and policy to the man whom he considered "one of the sincerest and most important friends that Italy had." But as his biographer says, Gladstone was still far from the glorified democracy of the Mazzinian propaganda, and expressed his opinion that England should take the stand that she would be glad if Italian unity proved feasible, "but the conditions of it must be gradually matured by a course of improvement in the several states, and by the political education of the people; if it cannot be reached by these means, it hardly will by any others; and certainly not by opinions which closely link Italian reconstruction with European disorganization and general war." Yet he was as distressed as Mrs.

Browning at the peace of Villafranca, about which he wrote: "I little thought to have lived to see the day when the conclusion of a peace should in my own mind cause disgust rather than impart relief." By the end of the year he thought better of Napoleon and expressed himself again somewhat in the same strain as Mrs. Browning, to the effect that the Emperor had shown, "though partial and inconsistent, indications of a genuine feeling for the Italians--and far beyond this he has committed himself very considerably to the Italian cause in the face of the world. When in reply to all that, we fling in his face the truce of Villafranca, he may reply--and the answer is not without force--that he stood single-handed in a cause when any moment Europe might have stood combined against him. We gave him verbal sympathy and encouragement, or at least criticism; no one else gave him anything at all. No doubt he showed then that he had undertaken a work to which his powers were unequal; but I do not think that, when fairly judged, he can be said to have given proof by that measure of insincerity or indifference."

Gladstone's gradual and forceful emanc.i.p.ation into the ranks of the liberals may be followed in the fascinating pages of Morley's "Life," who at the end declares that his performances in the sphere of active government were beyond comparison. Gladstone's own summary of his career gives a glimpse of what these performances were as well as an interpretation of the century and England's future growth which indicate that had he had another twenty years in which to progress, perhaps fewer, he would beyond all doubt have become an out and out social democrat.

"The public aspect of the period which closes for me with the fourteen years (so I love to reckon them) of my formal connection with Midlothian is too important to pa.s.s without a word. I consider it as beginning with the Reform Act of Lord Grey's government. That great act was for England, improvement and extension: for Scotland it was political birth, the beginning of a duty and a power, neither of which had attached to the Scottish nation in the preceding period. I rejoice to think how the solemnity of that duty has been recognized, and how that power has been used. The threescore years offer as the pictures of what the historian will recognize as a great legislative and administrative period--perhaps, on the whole, the greatest in our annals. It has been predominantly a history of emanc.i.p.ation--that is, of enabling man to do his work of emanc.i.p.ation, political, economical, social, moral, intellectual. Not numerous merely, but almost numberless, have been the causes brought to issue, and in every one of them I rejoice to think that, so far as my knowledge goes, Scotland has done battle for the right.

"Another period has opened and is opening still--a period possibly of yet greater moral dangers, certainly a great ordeal for those cla.s.ses which are now becoming largely conscious of power, and never heretofore subject to its deteriorating influences. These have been confined in their actions to the cla.s.ses above them, because they were its sole possessors. Now is the time for the true friend of his country to remind the ma.s.ses that their present political elevation is owing to no principles less broad and n.o.ble than these--the love of liberty, of liberty for all without distinction of cla.s.s, creed or country, _and the resolute preference of the interests of the whole_ to any interest, be it what it may, of a narrower scope."

Mr. Gladstone entered Parliament at twenty-three, in 1832, and a year later Browning, at twenty-one, printed his first poem, "Pauline." The careers of the two men ran nearly parallel, for Browning died in 1889, on the day of the publication of his last volume of poems, and Gladstone's retirement from active life took place in 1894, shortly after the defeat of his second Home Rule Bill. Though there is nothing to show that these two men came into touch with each other during their life, and while it is probable that Browning would not have been in sympathy with many of the aspects of Gladstone's mentality, there is an undercurrent of similarity in their att.i.tude of mind toward reform. The pa.s.sage in "Sordello" already referred to, written in 1840, might be regarded almost as a prophecy of the sort of leader Gladstone became. I have said of that pa.s.sage that it expressed the ideal of the opportunist, not that of the revolutionary.

Opportunist Mr. Gladstone was often called by captious critics, but any unbiased reader following his career now as a whole will see, as Morley points out, that whenever there was a chance of getting anything done it was generally found that he was the only man with courage and resolution enough to attempt it.

A distinction should be made between that sort of opportunism which _waits_ upon the growth of conditions favorable to the taking of a short step in amelioration, and what might be called militant opportunism, which, at all times, seizes every opportunity to take a step in the direction of an evolving, all-absorbing ideal. Is not this the opportunism of both a Browning and a Gladstone? Such a policy at least tacitly acknowledges that the law of evolution is the law that should be followed, and that the ma.s.s of the people as well as the leader have their share in the unfolding of the coming ideal, though their part in it may be less conscious than his and though they may need his leaders.h.i.+p to make the steps by the way clear.

The other political leader of the Victorian era with whom Gladstone came most constantly into conflict was Disraeli, of whom Browning in "George Bubb Dodington" has given a sketch in order to draw a contrast between the unsuccessful policy of a charlatan of the Dodington type and that of one like Disraeli. The skeptical mult.i.tude of to-day cannot be taken in by declarations that the politician is working only for their good, and if he frankly acknowledged that he is working also for his own good they would have none of him. The nice point to be decided is how shall he work for his own good and yet gain control of the mult.i.tude. Dodington did not know the secret, but according to Browning Disraeli did, and what is the secret? It seems to be an att.i.tude of absolute self-a.s.surance, a disregard of consistency, a scorn of the people he is dealing with, and a pose suggesting the play of supernatural forces in his life.

This is a true enough picture of the real Disraeli, who seems to have had a leaning toward a belief in spiritualism, and who was notorious for his unblus.h.i.+ng changes of opinion and for a style of oratory in which his points were made by clever invective and sarcasm hurled at his opponents instead of by any sound, logical argument, it being, indeed one of his brilliant discoveries that "wisdom ought to be concealed under folly, and consistency under caprice."

Many choice bits of history might be given in ill.u.s.tration of Browning's portrayal of him; for example, speaking against reform, he exclaims: "Behold the late Prime Minister and the Reform Ministry! The spirited and snow-white steeds have gradually changed into an equal number of sullen and obstinate donkeys, while Mr. Merryman, who, like the Lord Chancellor, was once the very life of the ring, now lies his despairing length in the middle of the stage, with his jokes exhausted and his bottle empty."

As a specimen of his quickness in retort may be cited an account of an episode which occurred at the time when he came out as the champion of the Taunton Blues. In the course of his speech he "enunciated," says an anonymous writer of the fifties, "one of those daring historical paradoxes which are so signally characteristic of the man: 'Twenty years ago' said the Taunton Blue hero, 't.i.thes were paid in Ireland more regularly than now!'

"Even his supporters appeared astounded by this declaration.

"'How do you know?' shouted an elector.

"'I have read it,' replied Mr. Disraeli.

"'Oh, oh!' exclaimed the elector.

"'I know it,' retorted Disraeli, 'because I have read, and you' (looking daggers at his questioner) 'have not.'

"This was considered a very happy rejoinder by the friends of the candidate, and was loudly cheered by the Blues.

"'Didn't you write a novel?' again asked the importunate elector, not very much frightened even by Mr. Disraeli's oratorical thunder and the sardonical expression on his face.

"'I have certainly written a novel,' Mr. Disraeli replied; 'but I hope there is no disgrace in being connected with literature.'

"'You are a curiosity of literature, you are,' said the humorous elector.

"'I hope,' said Mr. Disraeli, with great indignation, 'there is no disgrace in having written that which has been read by hundreds of thousands of my fellow-countrymen, and which has been translated into every European language. I trust that one who is an author by the gift of nature may be as good a man as one who is Master of the Mint by the gift of Lord Melbourne.' Great applause then burst forth from the Blues. Mr.

Disraeli continued, 'I am not, however, the puppet of the Duke of Buckingham, as one newspaper has described me; while a fellow laborer in the same vineyard designated me the next morning, "the Marleybone Radical." If there is anything on which I figure myself it is my consistency.'

"'Oh, oh!' exclaimed many hearers.

"'I am prepared to prove it,' said Mr. Disraeli, with menacing energy. 'I am prepared to prove it, and always shall be, either in the House of Commons or on the hustings, considering the satisfactory manner in which I have been attacked, but I do not think the attack will be repeated.'"

It seems extraordinary that such tactics of bluff could take a man onward to the supreme place of Prime Minister. Possibly it was just as much owing to his power to amuse as to any of the causes brought out by Browning. Is there anything the majority of mankind loves more than a laugh?

The conflicts of Disraeli and Gladstone form one of the most remarkable episodes of nineteenth-century politics. One is tempted to draw a parallel between Napoleon III and Disraeli, whose tactics were much the same, except that Disraeli was backed up by a much keener intellect. Possibly he held a part in English politics similar to that held by Napoleon in European politics--that is, he conserved the influences of the past long enough to make the future more sure of itself. Browning, however, evidently considered him nothing more than a successful charlatan.

When Browning wrote, "Why I Am a Liberal," in 1885, liberalism in English politics had reached its climax in the nineteenth century through the introduction by Mr. Gladstone, then Premier for the third time, of his Home Rule Bill. The injustices suffered by the Irish people and the horrible atrocities resulting from these had had their effect upon Mr.

Gladstone and had taken him the last great step in his progress toward freedom. The meeting at which this bill was introduced has been described as the greatest legislative a.s.sembly of modern times. The House was full to overflowing, and in a brilliant speech of nearly four hours the veteran leader held his audience breathless as he unfolded his plans for the betterment of Irish conditions. We are told that during the debates that followed there was a remarkable exhibition of feeling--"the pa.s.sions, the enthusiasm, the fear, and hope, and fury and exultation, sweeping, now the surface, now stirring to its depths the great gathering." The bill, which included, besides the founding of an Irish Parliament in Dublin, which would have the power to deal with all matters "save the Crown, the Army and Navy, Foreign and Colonial Policy, Trade, Navigation, Currency, Imperial Taxation, and the Endowment of Churches," also provided that Ireland should annually contribute to the English exchequer the sum of 3,243,000.

Eloquence, enthusiasm, exultation--all came to naught. The bill did not even suit the liberals, the bargain from a financial point of view being regarded as hard. It was defeated in Parliament and fared no better when an appeal was made to the country, and Mr. Gladstone resigned. In nine months, however, a general election returned him to office again, and again he introduced a Home Rule Bill, and though it pa.s.sed the Commons, it was overwhelmingly defeated in the House of Lords.

It is pleasant to reflect that in this last act of a n.o.ble and brilliant career spent in the interests of the ever-growing ideals of democracy Gladstone had the sympathy of Browning, shown by his emphatic expression of "liberal sentiments" at a momentous crisis, when a speech on the liberal side even from the mouth of a poet counted for much.

As we have seen, the reflections in Browning's poetry of his interest in public affairs are comparatively few, yet such glimpses as he has given prove him, beyond all doubt, to have been a democrat in principle, to have arrived, in fact, at the beginning of his career at a point beyond that attained by England's rulers at the end of the century. This far-sighted vision of his may have been another reason to be added to those mentioned at the beginning of the chapter why his interest in the practical affairs of his country did not more often express itself. The wrangling, the inconsequentialness, the eloquence expended upon mere personal interests which make up by far the larger proportion of all political agitation, are irritating to the last degree to a man of vision. His part was that of the philosopher and artist--to watch and to record in the portrayal of his many characters the underlying principle of freedom, which was the guiding star in all his work.

IV

SOCIAL IDEALS

Browning's social ideals revolve about a trinity of values: the value of love, the value of truth, the value of evil. His ethics are the natural outgrowth of his mysticism and his idealism, with no touch of the utilitarianism which has been a distinctive mark of the fabric of English society during the nineteenth century, nor, on the other hand, of the hidebound conventionalism which has limited personal freedom in ways detrimental to just those aspects of social morality it was most anxious to preserve.

The fact of which Browning seemed more conscious than of any other fact of his existence, and which, as we have seen, was the very core of his mysticism, was feeling. Things about which an ordinary man would feel no emotion at all start in his mind a train of thoughts, ending only in the perception of divine love. The eating of a palatable fig fills his heart with such gratefulness to the giver of the fig that immediately he fares forth upon the way which brings him into the presence of the Prime Giver from whom all gifts are received. What ecstasy of feeling in the artist aspiring through his art to the higher regions of Absolute Beauty in "Abt Vogler" of the poet who loves, aspiring to the divine through his human love in the epilogue to "Ferishtah's Fancies!" The perception of feeling was so intense that it became in him exalted and concentrated, incapable of dissipating itself in ephemeral sentimentalities, and this it is which gives feeling to Browning its mystical quality, and puts personal love upon the plane of a veritable revelation.

Though reports have often floated about in regard to his attachments to other women after Mrs. Browning's death, the fact remains that he did not marry again, that he wrote the lyrics in "Ferishtah's Fancies," and the sonnet to Edward Fitzgerald just before his death, and thirty years after his wife's death. Moreover, in the epilogue to "The Two Poets of Croisic"

he gives a hint of what might be his att.i.tude toward any other women who may have come into his life, in the application of the tale of the cricket chirping "love" in the place of the broken string of a poet's lyre--

"For as victory was nighest, While I sang and played, With my lyre at lowest, highest, Right alike--one string that made Love sound soft was snapt in twain, Never to be heard again,----

"Had not a kind cricket fluttered, Perched upon the place Vacant left, and duly uttered, 'Love, Love, Love,' when'er the ba.s.s Asked the treble to atone For its somewhat sombre drone."

These rare qualities of constancy, exaltation and aspiration, in love sublimating it into a spiritual emotion, which was evidently the distinctive mark of Browning's personality on the emotional side, furnishes the keynote by which his presentation or solution of the social problems involved in the relations of men and women is always to be gauged.

He had been writing ten years when he essayed his first serious presentation of what we might to-day call a problem play on an English subject in "A Blot in the 'Scutcheon." In all of his long poems and in many of his short ones personal love had been portrayed under various conditions--between friends or lovers, husband and wife, or father and son, and in every instance it is a dominating influence in the action, as we have already seen it to be in "Strafford." Again, in "King Victor and King Charles" the action centers upon Charles's love for his father, and is also moulded in many ways by Polyxena's love for her husband, Charles.

But a perception of the possible heights to be obtained by the pa.s.sion of romantic love only fully emerges in "Pippa Pa.s.ses," for example in Ottima's vision of the reality of her own love, despite her great sin as contrasted with that of Sebald's, and in Jules's rising above the conventionally low when he discovers he has been duped, and perceiving in Phene a purity of soul which no earthly conditions had been able to sully,

"Who, what is Lutwyche, what Natalia's friends, What the whole world except our love--my own, Own Phene?...

I do but break these paltry models up To begin art afresh ...

Some unsuspected isle in the far seas!

Like a G.o.d going through the world there stands One mountain for a moment in the dusk, Whole brotherhoods of cedars on its brow: And you are ever by me while I gaze --Are in my arms as now--as now--as now!

Some unsuspected isle in the far seas!

Some unsuspected isle in far-off seas!"

Again, in "The Return of the Druses" there is a complicated clash between the ideal of religious reverence for the incarnation of divinity in Djabal and human love for him in the soul of Anael, resulting at the end in the destruction of the idea of Djabal's supernatural divinity, and his reinstatement perceived by Anael as divine through the complete exaltation of his human love for Anael.

These examples, however, while they ill.u.s.trate Browning's att.i.tude toward human love, are far enough removed from nineteenth-century conditions in England. In "Pippa," the social conditions of nineteenth-century Italy are reflected; in "The Druses," the religious conditions of the Druse nation in the fifteenth century.

In the "Blot in the 'Scutcheon" a situation is developed which comes home forcibly to the nineteenth-century Englishman despite the fact that the scene is supposed to be laid in the eighteenth century. The poet's treatment of the clash between the ideal, cherished by an old and honored aristocratic family of its own immaculate purity, and the spontaneous, complete and exalted love of the two young people who in their ecstasy transcend conventions, ill.u.s.trates, as perhaps no other situation could, his reverential att.i.tude upon the subject of love. Gwendolen, the older, intuitional woman, and Mertoun, the young lover, are the only people in the play to realize that purity may exist although the social enactments upon which it is supposed to depend have not been complied with. Tresham learns it only when he has wounded Mertoun unto death; Mildred never learns it. The grip of conventional teaching has sunk so deeply into her nature that she feels her sin unpardonable and only to be atoned for by death. Mertoun, as he dies, gives expression to the essential purity and truth of his nature in these words:

"Die along with me, Dear Mildred! 'tis so easy, and you'll 'scape So much unkindness! Can I lie at rest, With rude speech spoken to you, ruder deeds Done to you?--heartless men shall have my heart And I tied down with grave-clothes and the worm, Aware, perhaps, of every blow--O G.o.d!-- Upon those lips--yet of no power to bear The felon stripe by stripe! Die Mildred! Leave Their honorable world to them! For G.o.d We're good enough, though the world casts us out."