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Tag Archives: Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy On a Fine Morning

19 Friday Jun 2020

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joy, Literature, Meaning, poem, Poetry, Thomas Hardy

How can one have comfort in an impersonal accidental universe? This was a great problem for Hardy. The world will simply calmly destroy us.

So he asks the question where can I find solace?

It can’t be from our actual experience:

Whence comes Solace?—Not from seeing
What is doing, suffering, being,
Not from noting Life’s conditions,
Nor from heeding Time’s monitions;
But in cleaving to the Dream,
And in gazing at the gleam
Whereby gray things golden seem.

There is just an accident a surprise which permits him to see grey appear to be gold. Even shadows are turning to sun.


Thus do I this heyday, holding
Shadows but as lights unfolding,
As no specious show this moment
With its irised embowment;
But as nothing other than
Part of a benignant plan;
Proof that earth was made for man.

That last line is the key: I am somehow meaningful. The earth is meant for human life.

This is the point where Hardy differs from Lewis. That surprise of joy led Hardy to have a moments accident – a dream. For Lewis the surprise of joy requires an explanation: it can’t be grounded in life experience which is suffering. Where then?

Misery requires no explanation of life is a bare cosmic accident: why should the ends meet? Darwin only requires existence not the good true or beautiful: those have no anchor in a world of chance. Beauty is purposeful, ordered.

Hardy can’t give a better explanation for his morning than “dream.”

The Subalterns

11 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by memoirandremains in Literature, Thomas Hardy

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Lovecraft, poem, Poetry, Thomas Hardy

I

“Poor wanderer,” said the leaden sky,
“I fain would lighten thee,
But there be laws in force on high
Which say it must not be.”


II

– “I would not freeze thee, shorn one,” cried
The North, “knew I but how
To warm my breath, to slack my stride;
But I am ruled as thou.”


III

– “To-morrow I attack thee, wight,”
Said Sickness. “Yet I swear
I bear thy little ark no spite,
But am bid enter there.
“


IV


V

– “Come hither, Son,” I heard Death say;
“I did not will a grave
Should end thy pilgrimage to-day,
But I, too, am a slave!”

VI

We smiled upon each other then,
And life to me wore less
That fell contour it wore ere when
They owned their passiveness.

Thomas Hardy

This poem is a compliment to Hap, the poem which sorrows for the meaninglessness of pain in a world without even a spiteful god.

Here there is a rule, but no meaning. Death and pain are built into the fabric of things; the come by compulsion.

He even seems to make a friend of pain and death, “We smiled on each other then”. What a curious line. I believe that line makes the poem neither cynical nor cute. There is something Stoic about a smile upon death (because death cannot help it). But unlike the Stoics I don’t know that Hardy held to any universal Reason.

What then is the rule or force from “on high”? The crushing nature of the world is unavoidable but not meaningful.

A matter which might make for a n interesting comparison in this point Hardy and the younger American H.P. Lovecraft saw a terror in the world which sprang from something ancient.

One made the terror more superhuman and pre-human in source. The other lodged pain in bones of civilization.

But neither could make sense of the horror of this world. Yet, they could sketch its contour with rare skill.

Thomas Hardy To Life

05 Saturday Oct 2019

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poem, Poetry, Thomas Hardy

TO LIFE

O life with the sad seared face,

I weary of seeing thee,

And thy draggled cloak,

and thy hobbling pace,

And thy too-forced pleasantry!

I know what thou would’st tell

Of Death, Time, Destiny-

I have known it long, and know, too, well

What it all means for me.

But canst thou not array

Thyself in rare disguise,

And feign like truth, for one mad day,

That Earth is Paradise?

I’ll tune me to the mood,

And run with thee till eve;

And maybe what as interlude

I feign, I shall believe!

A poem by Thomas Hardy

13 Wednesday Feb 2019

Posted by memoirandremains in Literature

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poem, Poetry, Thomas Hardy

Fame and power in human beings is a relative thing. I knew a man who was quite famous in one country. His picture was on billboards and posters. He was on tv. People would wait for hours to great him. Yet in his home country, he was unknown. A lovely pleasant interesting man, but not the least famous.

Power too is all in perception. A king is only a king because others think him so.

Time is distance too. When time makes a king unknown; the king’s power is all in the people who visit – and in this case it is those who died nearby. The king is now a lamppost, a sign or marker. He is nothing himself.

ROME AT THE PYRAMID OF CESTIUS NEAR THE GRAVES OF SHELLEY AND KEATS (1887)

Who, then, was Cestius,

And what is he to me?

-Amid thick thoughts and memories multitudinous

One thought alone brings he.

I can recall no word

Of anything he did;

For me he is a man who died and was interred

To leave a pyramid

Whose purpose was exprest

Not with its first design,

Nor till, far down in Time, beside it found their rest

Two countrymen of mine.

Cestius in life, maybe,

Slew, breathed out threatening;

I know not. This I know: in death all silently

He does a kindlier thing,

In beckoning pilgrim feet

With marble finger high

To where, by shadowy wall and history-haunted street,

Those matchless singers lie . . .

—Say, then, he lived and died

That stones which bear his name

Should mark, through Time, where two immortal

Shades abide;

It is an ample fame.

Truth Like a Bastard

08 Friday May 2015

Posted by memoirandremains in Literature, Thomas Hardy

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poem, Poetry, Thomas Hardy, truth

LAUSANNE IN GIBBON’S OLD GARDEN: 11-12 P.M. June 27, 1897 (The 110th anniversary of the completion of the “Decline and Fall” at the same hour and place)
Thomas Hardy

A spirit seems to pass,
Formal in pose, but grave and grand withal:
He contemplates a volume stout and tall,
And far lamps fleck him through the thin acacias.
Anon the book is closed,
With “It is finished!”
And at the alley’s end
He turns, and soon on me his glances bend;
And, as from earth, comes speech—small, muted, yet composed.
“How fares the Truth now?—Ill?
—Do pens but slily further her advance?
May one not speed her but in phrase askance?
Do scribes aver the Comic to be Reverend still?
“Still rule those minds on earth
At whom sage Milton’s wormwood words were hurled:
‘Truth like a bastard comes into the world
Never without ill-fame to him who gives her birth’?”

Shelley’s Skylark

10 Saturday Jan 2015

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poem, Poetry, Shelley, Skylark, Thomas Hardy

Somewhere afield here something lies In Earth’s oblivious eyeless trust
That moved a poet to prophecies –
A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust The dust of the lark that Shelley heard, And made immortal through times to be; –
Though it only lived like another bird, And knew not its immortality.

Lived its meek life; then, one day, fell – A little ball of feather and bone;
And how it perished, when piped farewell,
And where it wastes, are alike unknown.
Maybe it rests in the loam I view, Maybe it throbs in a myrtle’s green, Maybe it sleeps in the coming hue
Of a grape on the slopes of yon inland scene.

Go find it, faeries, go and find
That tiny pinch of priceless dust,
And bring a casket silver-lined,
And framed of gold that gems encrust; And we will lay it safe therein,
And consecrate it to endless time;
For it inspired a bard to win
Ecstatic heights in thought and rhyme.

Thomas Hardy
(The neighbourhood of Leghorn: March, 1887)

Crosses Warranted to Last Five Years

08 Tuesday Jul 2014

Posted by memoirandremains in Literature, Thomas Hardy

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Ancient, Beauty, Jude the Obscure, Literature, Modernism, Thomas Hardy, Time, Ugliness

It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast iron crosses warranted to last five years.

We live in a time and place in which progress and new overwhelm our desire. We cannot be relish the new. However, such is not the only way to understand time. Consider the above-passage from Thomas Hardy’s Jude the Obscure. The description moves from quaint, to bitter irony, to plain mockery. Try to work out the levels of irony in this paragraph.

The sense of the “modern” is quite similar to the modernization depicted in Lewis’ That Hideous Strength. It is interesting that on the front side of this phase of modernization, the best saw the ugliness and brutality in triumph; but how little can we see it now that we have grown accustomed.

If But Some Vengeful God

04 Friday Jul 2014

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God, Hap, poem, Poetry, Thomas Hardy

Hap
BY THOMAS HARDY
If but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
That thy love’s loss is my hate’s profiting!”

Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die,
Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I
Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.

But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain,
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
—Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,
And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . .
These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown
Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.

God of the Shadows.1

12 Thursday Jul 2012

Posted by memoirandremains in Apologetics

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Apologetics, Brian Morely, God of the Shadows, Hap, Poetry, Problem of Evil, Thomas Hardy

In God in the Shadows, Dr. Morley  (Professor TMC), considers the problem of evil in light of the goodness and sovereignty of God. He sets up the problem as follows:

Premise One

 If God is good, He would want to eliminate evil.

Premise Two

If God is all powerful, He would be able to eliminate evil.

Premise Three

Evil exists.

Therefore

There does not exist a God who is both good and all powerful.

Morely first works through the potential responses:

Atheism:  Deny the existence of God. This seems to avoid the problem of the argument above, but at what cost?  First, denying the existence of God does not come without a series of logical and factual problems of its own (See Romans 1-2; Acts 17).

Second, atheism comes at an enormous psychological/spiritual cost. Thomas Hardy summarized the pain of atheism as well as anyone ever has done:

Hap

IF but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
That thy love’s loss is my hate’s profiting!”

Then would I bear, and clench myself, and die,
Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased, too, that a Powerfuller than I
Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.

But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain,
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
–Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,
And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan….
These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown
Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.

Pain and suffering are terrible enough. Atheism adds to the burden by making the pain meaningless. A great deal of suffering comes through one’s understanding of the event – often the understanding makes the pain far worse than the actual event itself. Atheism compounds the problem by seeking to maximize the suffering on the ground that any suffering proves that suffering is meaningless (this is not what is typically articulated; but the argument reduces to such a structure).

Buddhism is a religion which (in some form) seeks to work through the problem caused by atheism. Denying the existence of any personal god, Buddhism seeks to eliminate suffering by the elimination of any desire of this life. Thus, by giving up joy and hope one may seek to avoid suffering – which is a cure worse than the disease.

Pantheism: Seeks to solve the problem by making evil an inherent and necessary aspect of creation. Evil is no less part of what is than good – it eventually resolves into no resolution: There is no difference between good and evil. Thus, evil is eliminated by the elimination of reason and logic.  This argument challenges premise three of the syllogism.

Idealism: Evil is merely an illusion, as in Christian Science of some branches of Hinduism (Hinduism also can be present pantheism). This also challenges premise three of the syllogism.

Dualism: Both good and evil are necessary and must be kept in balance. The Chinese have developed this concept at some depth (ying and yang).  The Zoasterians posit a pair of opposite gods. Some strains of Gnosticism also advance this argument. This argument  challenges the first two premises, denying the existence of any god who is powerful enough to remove evil.

God is not all powerful:  Rabbi Kushner’s When Bad things Happen to Good People is the most famous example of this particular argument (as advanced in recent N. American history). However the argument also plays in process theology (god/God is in the process of becoming); Mormonism is has a limited god who cannot eliminate all evil.

God is not good: Elie Wiesel’s Night  (discussing  the concentration camp) is the most crushingly powerful statement imaginable:

Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, that turned my life into one long night seven times sealed.

Never shall I forget that smoke.

Never shall I forget the small faces of the children whose bodies I saw transformed into smoke under a silent sky.

Never shall I forget those flames that consumed my faith forever.

Never shall I forget the nocturnal silence that deprived me for all eternity of the desire to live.

Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to ashes.

Never shall I forget those things, even were I condemned to live as long as God Himself.

Never. (3.68-75)

Orthodoxy:  God is good and powerful and evil does exist. However, “God … has sufficient reasons for allowing evil” (33). The remainder of the book lays out that answer. The book in some ways runs in the vein of Plantinga’s response to the logical problem of evil, “”It is possible that God, even being omnipotent, could not create a world with free creatures who never choose evil. Furthermore, it is possible that God, even being omnibenevolent, would desire to create a world which contains evil if moral goodness requires free moral creatures.”  Morely goes well beyond arguing for the moral freedom of human beings by addressing various aspect of evil as the “cost” of better ends.

You can find Dr. Morely’s writing at http://www.faithandreasonforum.com/index.asp?PageID=5

Affliction Homework: Part II

21 Wednesday Sep 2011

Posted by memoirandremains in Uncategorized

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Affliction, Biblical Counseling, Homework, Poetry, Thomas Hardy, Uncategorized

Before we can see the good in afflictions, we must be firmly convinced that God is the source of the affliction. This may be paradoxical, but it is true. An analogy will perhaps help. Imagine a child who suffers a sharp pain to his arm. The pain came as the result of a vaccination. He is with his mother when the injection comes. She assures him that she loves him and has done this for his good. While the pain is certain, his hope can be secured because he believes his mother will not permit him to be wrongly injured.

Conversely, to think that my pain comes from nowhere I will suffer from both the pain itself and the senselessness of the pain. I cannot see good in a pain which happens for no reason. This dual pain was expressed masterfully by Thomas Hardy in the poem, “Hap”:

IF but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
That thy love’s loss is my hate’s profiting!”

Then would I bear, and clench myself, and die,
Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased, too, that a Powerfuller than I
Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.

But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain,
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
–Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,
And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan….
These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown
Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.

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