Charles I
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 make115trial 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 striking116working 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.LadyCarlisleandWentworthWentworth.And the King?Lady Carlisle.Wentworth, lean on me! Sit then!I'll tell you all; this horrible fatigueWill 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?117Besides, 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 bearThe fame away from him of these late deedsIn Ireland? I am yet his instrumentBe 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 VaneAbout 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 professedYou 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 notDistrust you.Wentworth.Lucy, you can help me; youHave even seemed to care for me: one word!Is it the Queen?Lady Carlisle.No, not the Queen: the partyThat poisons the Queen's ear, Savile and Holland.Wentworth.I know, I know: old Vane, too, he's one too?118Go 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 friendWhen I arrived, she'd throw an hour awayTo 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 governmentOf that surpassing value....Wentworth.The one thingOf value! The one service that the crownMay count on! All that keeps these very VanesIn power, to vex me—not that they do vex,Only it might vex some to hear that serviceDecried, the sole support that's left the King!Lady Carlisle.So the Archbishop says.Wentworth.Ah? well, perhapsThe only hand held up in my defenceMay be old Laud's! These Hollands then, these SavilesNibble? 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 notSo patient as I thought. What's Pym about?Lady Carlisle.Pym?Wentworth.Pym and the People.Lady Carlisle.O, the Faction!119Extinct—of no account: there'll never beAnother Parliament.Wentworth.Tell Savile that!You may know—(ay, you do—the creatures hereNever forget!) that in my earliest lifeI was not ... much that I am now! The KingMay take my word on points concerning PymBefore 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 toolWho 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 toldHe sent for me, nay, longed for me.Lady Carlisle.Because,—He is now ... I think a Council's sitting nowAbout this Scots affair.Wentworth.A Council sits?They have not taken a decided courseWithout 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 tooAgainst me! well,—the King may take his time.—Forget it, Lucy! Cares make peevish: mineWeigh 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!120I did not forsakeThe People: they shall know it, when the KingWill 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 brushThese insects from ... the step I know so well!The King! But now, to tell him ... no—to askWhat's in me he distrusts:—or, best beginBy proving that this frightful Scots affairIs 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.Pymenters.Wentworth.I little thought of you just then.Pym.No? IThink 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 upHe'll see you.Wentworth.Sir, I thank you.Pym.Oh, thank Laud!You know when Laud once gets on Church affairsThe case is desperate: he'll not be longTo-day: he only means to prove, to-day,We English all are mad to have a handIn butchering the Scots for serving GodAfter their fathers' fashion: only that!
LadyCarlisleandWentworth
Wentworth.And the King?
Lady Carlisle.Wentworth, lean on me! Sit then!I'll tell you all; this horrible fatigueWill 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?117Besides, 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 bearThe fame away from him of these late deedsIn Ireland? I am yet his instrumentBe 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 VaneAbout 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 professedYou 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 notDistrust you.
Wentworth.Lucy, you can help me; youHave even seemed to care for me: one word!Is it the Queen?
Lady Carlisle.No, not the Queen: the partyThat poisons the Queen's ear, Savile and Holland.
Wentworth.I know, I know: old Vane, too, he's one too?118Go 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 friendWhen I arrived, she'd throw an hour awayTo 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 governmentOf that surpassing value....
Wentworth.The one thingOf value! The one service that the crownMay count on! All that keeps these very VanesIn power, to vex me—not that they do vex,Only it might vex some to hear that serviceDecried, the sole support that's left the King!
Lady Carlisle.So the Archbishop says.
Wentworth.Ah? well, perhapsThe only hand held up in my defenceMay be old Laud's! These Hollands then, these SavilesNibble? 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 notSo patient as I thought. What's Pym about?
Lady Carlisle.Pym?
Wentworth.Pym and the People.
Lady Carlisle.O, the Faction!119Extinct—of no account: there'll never beAnother Parliament.
Wentworth.Tell Savile that!You may know—(ay, you do—the creatures hereNever forget!) that in my earliest lifeI was not ... much that I am now! The KingMay take my word on points concerning PymBefore 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 toolWho 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 toldHe sent for me, nay, longed for me.
Lady Carlisle.Because,—He is now ... I think a Council's sitting nowAbout this Scots affair.
Wentworth.A Council sits?They have not taken a decided courseWithout 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 tooAgainst me! well,—the King may take his time.—Forget it, Lucy! Cares make peevish: mineWeigh 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!120I did not forsakeThe People: they shall know it, when the KingWill 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 brushThese insects from ... the step I know so well!The King! But now, to tell him ... no—to askWhat's in me he distrusts:—or, best beginBy proving that this frightful Scots affairIs 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.
Pymenters.
Wentworth.I little thought of you just then.
Pym.No? IThink 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 upHe'll see you.
Wentworth.Sir, I thank you.
Pym.Oh, thank Laud!You know when Laud once gets on Church affairsThe case is desperate: he'll not be longTo-day: he only means to prove, to-day,We English all are mad to have a handIn butchering the Scots for serving GodAfter their fathers' fashion: only that!
Whitehall
Whitehall
121Wentworth.Sir, keep your jests for those who relish them!(Does he enjoy their confidence?) 'Tis kindTo tell me what the Council does.Pym.You grudgeThat I should know it had resolved on warBefore you came? no need: you shall have allThe 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 metAt Greenwich? Yes: poor patriots though we be,You cut a figure, makes some slight returnFor 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 eventWith those who recollect how sure I wasWentworth 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 thoughts122Claim somewhat?Wentworth.Keep your thoughts! believe the KingMistrusts me for their prattle, all these VanesAnd 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 muchFor 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 purchaserDid well to laugh you to such utter scornWhen 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 nowFrom 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 gladWhen 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,123And Hampden this!Pym.Whose faces once were brightAt my approach, now sad with doubt and fear,Because I hope in you—yes, Wentworth, youWho never mean to ruin England—youWho shake off, with God's help, an obscene dreamIn this Ezekiel chamber, where it creptUpon you first, and wake, yourself, your trueAnd 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 seenHampden so long: come: and there's Fiennes: you'll haveTo know young Vane. This is the proudest day![TheKingenters.Wentworthlets fallPym'shand.Charles.Arrived, my lord?—This gentleman, we knowWas your old friend.The Scots shall be informedWhat we determine for their happiness.[Pymgoes 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' LeagueAnd Covenant spreads too far, and we have proofsThat 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!124Oh—not for my sake! but 'tis sad, so sadThat for distrusting me, you suffer—youWhom I would die to serve: sir, do you thinkThat I would die to serve you?Charles.But rise, Wentworth!Wentworth.What shall convince you? What does Savile doTo prove him.... Ah, one can't tear out one's heartAnd 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 beSo 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 toldYour 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 ICan 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 meetThe war's expense?125Charles.He'd not decide so farUntil 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 offThe war, gives time to right their grievances—To talk with Pym. I know the Faction,—LaudSo styles it,—tutors Scotland: all their plansSuppose no Parliament: in calling oneYou take them by surprise. Produce the proofsOf Scotland's treason; then bid England help:Even Pym will not refuse.Charles.You would beginWith Ireland?Wentworth.Take no care for that: that's sureTo prosper.Charles.You shall rule me. You were bestReturn at once: but take this ere you go!Now, do I trust you? You're an Earl: my FriendOf 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 isTo touch the apple of my sight: why gazeSo earnestly?Wentworth.I am grown young again,126And 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 abhorA 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 soulThat's well and prospers now.This Parliament—We'll summon it, the English one—I'll careFor 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 elseDeposit this infirm humanityI' the dust. My whole heart stays with you, my King![AsWentworthgoes out, theQueenenters.Charles.That man must love me.Queen.Is it over then?Why, he looks yellower than ever! Well,At least we shall not hear eternallyOf service—services: he's paid at least.Charles.Not done with: he engages to surpassAll yet performed in Ireland.Queen.I had thoughtNothing beyond was ever to be done.The war, Charles—will he raise supplies enough?127Charles.We've hit on an expedient; he ... that is,I have advised ... we have decided onThe calling—in Ireland—of a Parliament.Queen.O truly! You agree to that? Is thatThe first fruit of his counsel? But I guessedAs much.Charles.This is too idle, Henriette!I should know best. He will strain every nerve,And once a precedent established....Queen.NoticeHow 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 themHere? Would I were in France again to seeA 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 buyThe leaders off: without that, Wentworth's counselHad ne'er prevailed on me. Perhaps I call itTo 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!
121Wentworth.Sir, keep your jests for those who relish them!(Does he enjoy their confidence?) 'Tis kindTo tell me what the Council does.
Pym.You grudgeThat I should know it had resolved on warBefore you came? no need: you shall have allThe 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 metAt Greenwich? Yes: poor patriots though we be,You cut a figure, makes some slight returnFor 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 eventWith those who recollect how sure I wasWentworth 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 thoughts122Claim somewhat?
Wentworth.Keep your thoughts! believe the KingMistrusts me for their prattle, all these VanesAnd 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 muchFor 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 purchaserDid well to laugh you to such utter scornWhen 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 nowFrom 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 gladWhen 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,123And Hampden this!
Pym.Whose faces once were brightAt my approach, now sad with doubt and fear,Because I hope in you—yes, Wentworth, youWho never mean to ruin England—youWho shake off, with God's help, an obscene dreamIn this Ezekiel chamber, where it creptUpon you first, and wake, yourself, your trueAnd 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 seenHampden so long: come: and there's Fiennes: you'll haveTo know young Vane. This is the proudest day!
[TheKingenters.Wentworthlets fallPym'shand.
Charles.Arrived, my lord?—This gentleman, we knowWas your old friend.The Scots shall be informedWhat we determine for their happiness.
[Pymgoes 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' LeagueAnd Covenant spreads too far, and we have proofsThat 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!124Oh—not for my sake! but 'tis sad, so sadThat for distrusting me, you suffer—youWhom I would die to serve: sir, do you thinkThat I would die to serve you?
Charles.But rise, Wentworth!
Wentworth.What shall convince you? What does Savile doTo prove him.... Ah, one can't tear out one's heartAnd 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 beSo 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 toldYour 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 ICan 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 meetThe war's expense?
125Charles.He'd not decide so farUntil 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 offThe war, gives time to right their grievances—To talk with Pym. I know the Faction,—LaudSo styles it,—tutors Scotland: all their plansSuppose no Parliament: in calling oneYou take them by surprise. Produce the proofsOf Scotland's treason; then bid England help:Even Pym will not refuse.
Charles.You would beginWith Ireland?
Wentworth.Take no care for that: that's sureTo prosper.
Charles.You shall rule me. You were bestReturn at once: but take this ere you go!Now, do I trust you? You're an Earl: my FriendOf 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 isTo touch the apple of my sight: why gazeSo earnestly?
Wentworth.I am grown young again,126And 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 abhorA 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 soulThat's well and prospers now.This Parliament—We'll summon it, the English one—I'll careFor 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 elseDeposit this infirm humanityI' the dust. My whole heart stays with you, my King!
[AsWentworthgoes out, theQueenenters.
Charles.That man must love me.
Queen.Is it over then?Why, he looks yellower than ever! Well,At least we shall not hear eternallyOf service—services: he's paid at least.
Charles.Not done with: he engages to surpassAll yet performed in Ireland.
Queen.I had thoughtNothing beyond was ever to be done.The war, Charles—will he raise supplies enough?
127Charles.We've hit on an expedient; he ... that is,I have advised ... we have decided onThe calling—in Ireland—of a Parliament.
Queen.O truly! You agree to that? Is thatThe first fruit of his counsel? But I guessedAs much.
Charles.This is too idle, Henriette!I should know best. He will strain every nerve,And once a precedent established....
Queen.NoticeHow 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 themHere? Would I were in France again to seeA 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 buyThe leaders off: without that, Wentworth's counselHad ne'er prevailed on me. Perhaps I call itTo 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!
128In 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 Parliament129has 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.
130Northumberland 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 govern131ment, 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 upon132the 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 PeopleAnd me, to say....I knew it! from the firstI knew it! Never was so cold a heart!Remember that I said it—that I neverBelieved you for a moment!—And, you loved me?You thought your perfidy profoundly hidBecause I could not share the whisperingsWith 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 ScotsGoaded to madness? Or the English—Pym—Shall I call Pym, your subject? Oh, you thinkI'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 countenanceWhat shall a rebel League avail againstYour servant, utterly and ever yours?So, gentlemen, the King's not even leftThe privilege of bidding me farewell133Who haste to save the People—that you styleYour People—from the mercies of the ScotsAnd France their friend?[ToCharles.]Pym's grave grey eyes are fixedUpon you, sir!Your pleasure, gentlemen?Hampden.The King dissolved us—'tis the King we seekAnd not Lord Strafford.Strafford.—Strafford, guilty tooOf counselling the measure. [ToCharles.] (Hush ... you know—You have forgotten—sir, I counselled it)A heinous matter, truly! But the KingWill yet see cause to thank me for a courseWhich 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 MajestyBinds me, by this fresh token of your trust....[Under the pretence of an earnest farewell,StraffordconductsCharlesto the door, in such a manner as to hide his agitation from the rest: as the King disappears, they turn as by one impulse toPym, 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 placeTo our old room again! He's gone.[Strafford, just about to follow theKing, looks back.Pym.Not gone![ToStrafford.] Keep tryst! the old appointment's made anew:134Forget not we shall meet again!Strafford.So be it!And if an army follows me?Vane.His friendsWill entertain your army!Pym.I'll not sayYou have misreckoned, Strafford: time shows.PerishBody and spirit! Fool to feign a doubt,Pretend the scrupulous and nice reserveOf one whose prowess shall achieve the feat!What share have I in it? Do I affectTo see no dismal sign above your headWhen 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!
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 PeopleAnd me, to say....I knew it! from the firstI knew it! Never was so cold a heart!Remember that I said it—that I neverBelieved you for a moment!—And, you loved me?You thought your perfidy profoundly hidBecause I could not share the whisperingsWith 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 ScotsGoaded to madness? Or the English—Pym—Shall I call Pym, your subject? Oh, you thinkI'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 countenanceWhat shall a rebel League avail againstYour servant, utterly and ever yours?So, gentlemen, the King's not even leftThe privilege of bidding me farewell133Who haste to save the People—that you styleYour People—from the mercies of the ScotsAnd France their friend?[ToCharles.]Pym's grave grey eyes are fixedUpon you, sir!Your pleasure, gentlemen?
Hampden.The King dissolved us—'tis the King we seekAnd not Lord Strafford.
Strafford.—Strafford, guilty tooOf counselling the measure. [ToCharles.] (Hush ... you know—You have forgotten—sir, I counselled it)A heinous matter, truly! But the KingWill yet see cause to thank me for a courseWhich 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 MajestyBinds me, by this fresh token of your trust....
[Under the pretence of an earnest farewell,StraffordconductsCharlesto the door, in such a manner as to hide his agitation from the rest: as the King disappears, they turn as by one impulse toPym, 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 placeTo our old room again! He's gone.
[Strafford, just about to follow theKing, looks back.
Pym.Not gone![ToStrafford.] Keep tryst! the old appointment's made anew:134Forget not we shall meet again!
Strafford.So be it!And if an army follows me?
Vane.His friendsWill entertain your army!
Pym.I'll not sayYou have misreckoned, Strafford: time shows.PerishBody and spirit! Fool to feign a doubt,Pretend the scrupulous and nice reserveOf one whose prowess shall achieve the feat!What share have I in it? Do I affectTo see no dismal sign above your headWhen 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.
LadyCarlisleenters.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,135Under 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 romanceTo 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 sureHis 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 sickLike your good brother, brave Northumberland?Beside, these walls seem falling on me.Lady Carlisle.Strafford,The wind that saps these walls can undermineYour camp in Scotland, too. Whence creeps the wind?Have you no eyes except for Pym? Look here!A breed of silken creatures lurk and thriveIn your contempt. You'll vanquish Pym? Old VaneCan vanquish you. And Vane you think to fly?Rush on the Scots! Do nobly! Vane's slight sneerShall test success, adjust the praise, suggestThe 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 doesAgainst me! 'Tis so idle to withstand!In no case tell me what they do!Lady Carlisle.But, Strafford....136Strafford.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 wayTo 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 friendOffriends!"—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 renounceThis 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 menThat they're unfortunate.Lady Carlisle.Then wherefore dieFor such a master?Strafford.You that told me firstHow good he was—when I must leave true friendsTo find a truer friend!—that drew me hereFrom Ireland,—"I had but to show myselfAnd Charles would spurn Vane, Savile, and the rest"—You, child, to ask me this?Lady Carlisle.(If he have setHis heart abidingly on Charles!)Then, friend,I shall not see you any more.137Strafford.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 disguiseWhich clothes the King—he shall behold my soul!)Strafford,—I shall speak best if you'll not gazeUpon 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 blankThe else imperialbrillianceof your mind,—A weakness, but most precious,—like a flawI' the diamond, which should shape forth some sweet faceYet to create, and meanwhile treasured thereLest nature lose her gracious thought for ever!Strafford.When could it be? no! Yet ... was it the dayWe waited in the anteroom, till HollandShould leave the presence-chamber?Lady Carlisle.What?Strafford.—That IDescribed 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 briefAnd passionate hope, silent for ever now!)And you are really bound for Scotland then?I wish you well: you must be very sureOf the King's faith, for Pym and all his crewWill not be idle—setting Vane aside!Strafford.If Pym is busy,—you maywrite of Pym.138Lady 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 hairIs glossier than the Queen's!Lady Carlisle.Is that to askA 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 CourtIs dull; do something to enliven usIn Scotland: we expect it at your hands.Strafford.I shall not fail in Scotland.Lady Carlisle.Prosper—ifYou'll think of me sometimes!Strafford.How think of himAnd 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 streakThe night has its first star.[She goes out.Strafford.That voice of hers—You'd think she had a heart sometimes! His voiceIs 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 foot139Must follow—whither? All that forlorn wayAmong the tombs! Far—far—till.... What, they doThen join again, these paths? For, huge in the dusk,There's—Pym to face!Why then, I have a foeTo close with, and a fight to fight at lastWorthy 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 proudTo catch a glance from Wentworth! They lie downHungry 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 nameThey'll curse in all those streets to-night. Whose fault?Did I make kings? set up, the first, a manTo represent the multitude, receiveAll 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 eyesWhich send me forth.—To breast the bloody seaThat sweeps before me: with one star for guide.Night has its first, supreme, forsaken star.
LadyCarlisleenters.
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,135Under 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 romanceTo 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 sureHis 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 sickLike your good brother, brave Northumberland?Beside, these walls seem falling on me.
Lady Carlisle.Strafford,The wind that saps these walls can undermineYour camp in Scotland, too. Whence creeps the wind?Have you no eyes except for Pym? Look here!A breed of silken creatures lurk and thriveIn your contempt. You'll vanquish Pym? Old VaneCan vanquish you. And Vane you think to fly?Rush on the Scots! Do nobly! Vane's slight sneerShall test success, adjust the praise, suggestThe 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 doesAgainst me! 'Tis so idle to withstand!In no case tell me what they do!
Lady Carlisle.But, Strafford....
136Strafford.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 wayTo 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 friendOffriends!"—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 renounceThis 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 menThat they're unfortunate.
Lady Carlisle.Then wherefore dieFor such a master?
Strafford.You that told me firstHow good he was—when I must leave true friendsTo find a truer friend!—that drew me hereFrom Ireland,—"I had but to show myselfAnd Charles would spurn Vane, Savile, and the rest"—You, child, to ask me this?
Lady Carlisle.(If he have setHis heart abidingly on Charles!)Then, friend,I shall not see you any more.137
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 disguiseWhich clothes the King—he shall behold my soul!)Strafford,—I shall speak best if you'll not gazeUpon 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 blankThe else imperialbrillianceof your mind,—A weakness, but most precious,—like a flawI' the diamond, which should shape forth some sweet faceYet to create, and meanwhile treasured thereLest nature lose her gracious thought for ever!
Strafford.When could it be? no! Yet ... was it the dayWe waited in the anteroom, till HollandShould leave the presence-chamber?
Lady Carlisle.What?
Strafford.—That IDescribed 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 briefAnd passionate hope, silent for ever now!)And you are really bound for Scotland then?I wish you well: you must be very sureOf the King's faith, for Pym and all his crewWill not be idle—setting Vane aside!
Strafford.If Pym is busy,—you maywrite of Pym.
138Lady 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 hairIs glossier than the Queen's!
Lady Carlisle.Is that to askA 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 CourtIs dull; do something to enliven usIn Scotland: we expect it at your hands.
Strafford.I shall not fail in Scotland.
Lady Carlisle.Prosper—ifYou'll think of me sometimes!
Strafford.How think of himAnd 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 streakThe night has its first star.
[She goes out.
Strafford.That voice of hers—You'd think she had a heart sometimes! His voiceIs 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 foot139Must follow—whither? All that forlorn wayAmong the tombs! Far—far—till.... What, they doThen join again, these paths? For, huge in the dusk,There's—Pym to face!Why then, I have a foeTo close with, and a fight to fight at lastWorthy 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 proudTo catch a glance from Wentworth! They lie downHungry 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 nameThey'll curse in all those streets to-night. Whose fault?Did I make kings? set up, the first, a manTo represent the multitude, receiveAll 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 eyesWhich send me forth.—To breast the bloody seaThat 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 well140with 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; theKing, 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."
141The 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 the142face.' 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 stooddis-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 here143influenced by Browning, the history having been written many years after the play.