Thomas Hardy, literary artist and deterministic philosopher

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Authors Miller, Margaret Pearl

Publisher The University of Arizona.

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Link to Item http://hdl.handle.net/10150/553750 mOMk'S HARDY, LITERARY ARTIST ADD DETERMINISTIC PHILOSOPHER

Margaret P. Miller

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Submitted in partial fulfillment of the

requirements for the degree of

Master of Arts

in the College of Letters, Arts, and Soienoes, of the

■-x'si'vvy-/ : University of ilrisona

:: '

1928

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The writer wiohea to aeknowledgo indebtodnouu to Dr$ Sidney F. Pattiaon and Dr. Gerald D. Sandora for inapirational advioe.

67576 IKDJSI

Prer&oe.,..*...... I-II

Chapter I. 2arly Crwtive Life... 1

Chapter II. The Bovolist,.18

Chapter III. The lyricist...... 43

Chapter IV. The Philosopher..... 56

Bibliography...... 81 1 .

PRKFAC5

Die avdrage reader of H&rdy'o novels has

only a superficial acquaintance with his poetry, and. almost none with his dr aim. In the pages which follow it has been

the attempt of the author to draw an adequate picture of the motives which dominated Hardy’s life, culminating in the phil­ osophical theories of The Dynasts.

Difficulty has been encountered in obtain­ ing adequate facts in the life of Thomas Hardy, For this material, the writer wishes to acknowledge Indebtedness to

The Life of Thomas Hardy by Ernest Brenneoke. For a more com­ prehensive grasp or M o life, the student is advised to read

the volume us a whole rather tlmn to be content with the brief paraphrase which Is given in this paper.

In reading the novels we have only an ■ approach to M s philosophy; in M s lyrics, a partial express­ ion of M s theories; and in M s drama the whole theory of

the immanence of the nlll. Hot until his later work do we

see revealed the gleam of hope w M e h shines through his well-

clothed determinism.

In order to explain Hardy’s philosophy it has been necessary ^ briefly summarize that of Schopenhauer,

the!points of difference in their theories lying chiefly in II. their expression of them, tichopenhsner, primarily a philo­ sopher, xmo interested in the ideas themselves and eared' little for the manner in nhioh they wore expressed; while Hardy, an author, was interested in both the ideas and their clothing, Walter Pater in M s Appreciations tolls us that good art depends upon both the form and matter, and goes on to add "if it (art) be devoted further to the increase of men*o happiness, to the redemption of the oppressed, or the enlargement of our sympathies with each other, or to such pre­ sentment of now or ol% truth about ourselves and our relation to the world as may enable and fortify us in our sojourn hero

,it will he great art; if, over and above those quali­ ties I summed up as mind and soul— that color and mystic per­ fume, and that reasonable structure, it has something of the soul of humanity in it, and finds Its logical, its architec­ tural place, in the great structure of human life,"

It M s been the desire of the author to show that Hardy * s works have in them that "mystic perfume," as well as the "reasonable structure" which ensure* them a place in "the great structure of human life." CHAPTER I. EARLY CREATIVE LIFE

Immersed by the insorut&ble, timeless per* sonallty of % d o n Heath; and of a piece wltli Its loneliness, the low house of the Hardy’s)formed a fitting birthplace for the quiet, self-contained, shy, but rugged personality which was later to manifest itself in the huge Dynasts and the lighter

Wessex stories. Born in this remote place in 1840, Thomas

Hardy spent a sunny childhood. The servants told him folk tales and country lore, shorn of their grotesqueries, and the farm laborers gave him impressions which no later civilisation could remove, but which rather became intensified by his wanderings over the wastes of Egdon Heath and along its Roman Road.

It was to this rambling old house that, the village choir came to practice their carols and dance tunes, and we can imagine the little Thomas clapping his hands and stamping his feet to the rhythm of *0 Jan, 0 Jan!” while Grand* ter Cantlo1 s high voice, "like a bee bussing in a flue," boomed out a sturdy •accompaniment to tho cane which kept time to his movements.

The ohuroh, as will be later shown, formed a great part in Hardy’s life. Joseph Fort liewton of the

Christian Century, am he pays tribute to Hardy, says: "lio nan had mono devotion to the house of God, alike as architect and artist; so many of M o stories have as their motif a vine-covered church, and it is always a part of the landscape as though it had g r o w out of it.” i

Hardy early received religions training from M s mother, who taught him the stories of the miracles, the parables, and a few of the early historical events of the Old Testament. The lat­ ter, Hardy found, wore more in tune with the wild, stern sweet­ ness of the Heath he came to love. In pleasant weather the family went to Dorchester (the Caaterbridge of the novels), where the boy, Hardy, later spent his architectural years, to attend the divine services at St. Peters, Here, Hardy became deeply imbued with the pragmatism so native to the average

Wessex character. With Joseph Poorgrass he learned that ”God*s a perfect gentleman•” The Hardy family had never been noted for orthodoxy of religious beliefs, and the seeds planted In

Thomas, early in life, remained to produce heretical fruit.

He early developed, through his association with the boys of the hamlet, a tendency toward the loutish habits of speech and manner so peculiar to the Wessex charac­ ters, For the first time in his life he learned the lesson . of ”trimming Ills sails” to fit at least two winds of environment

Rural manners were not becoming to a Hardy, the son of an

illustrious line, and the language learned outside the home

-ilewton, Joseph Fort, Christian Century. Feb. 2, 1920: "Christ on Fgdon Heath." Yma not to be carried into it. Tho Xon^j lino,of Hardys from which bad come the Captain of Trafalgar, and the noble do

Hardys of the French Revelation, had loft a dignity that even the shy Thomas of the remote Heath must respect. Thus, before he came to tho age of six he was leading a doable life. With

M s playmates it was "bide where ye be," but in M e mother's presence, "stay where you are."

This duplicity had effect upon the boy in manners other than speech. His mother1 a aloofness from Wessex became more poignantly felt as he grew older, and the sense of family superiority manifested itself in Shyness and a spiritual drawing away from M s young companions. When he should have been a participant in all their activities he was a mere observer.

While all feeling of self should have been lost in play, he became, instead, almost morbidly self-conscious• Since this social superiority could not be evidenced in an objective way, but must be pointed out through mental aloofness, the situation / was made more poignant for the child.

3arly in M e eighth year ho was registered in the primary school of Dorchester, w M c h the Hardy family had founded in the early Dorset days. He soon became indolent, discontented and impatient of learning to such a degree that he refused to attend longer, being more interested in listening to the tales of the Wessex pioneers than to tho drone of a monotonous recitation. -4 '

Three yearo of tutoring in the olaaaioa and under a Ereneh governess, eoapleted Hardy^ formal educa­ tion. learning, free from direction and guidanoo, v/ae constantly being absorbed into M s every fiber.

But M s formal aohoolihg had at least taught

M m how to write. Having the reputation of noholarlinoss be­ cause he could read a foreign language, he was in demand by all the boys and girls of the village, to write their love letters.

Unlike the composed letters of Richardson,.Hardy1s were purely a dictation. Hio love for the Wessex people must have been manifest in the amatory notes he wrote. When we read The Mayor of Casterbritoe we hear an echo of these experiences. Mother

Cuxsom says:

"love letters? Then lot’s hear ’em, good soul..... Do you mind, Richard, what fools we used to be when we were younger? Getting a school boy to write ’em for us and giving him a penny, do yo mind, not to tell other folks what he’d put inside, do you mind?" ±

This period of M s early life was profitable in experience.

Though he became disillusioned through M s insight into village affairs he acquired, to season it, a keen penetration of mind that becomes evident in all of M s later work.

This purposeless period was soon to come to an end, for the Hardys, ambitious that their son should add to their self-esteem and family pride, and despairing of higher

^flardy, Thomas, The Mayor of Caaterbrldge. Chapter 36. position for him, sent Thoman as an approntioe to John Hieke, an arohlteot or DorehoaSer,

In the Weeaoic oountry, as woll as in all the western oonntlea or England, a veritable architectural mania was invading eoolooiaotioal circles. Bishops and parsons were viewing the oinnabling wool anl stone of their sanctuaries with alarm. Towers anl tombs, altar screens anl floors were falling in ruins anl wore to be rebuiltThe Chur oh was in the throes of a fearful restoration movement. But in place of preserving "the ancient landmarks" a thoroughgoing replacement m s carried but. Parson as well as parishioner viewed apathet­ ically tho IToo-Gothio style used in this period.

"It was an atrocious variety and Imported from Ger­ many as an art then In fashion. Down came the priceless old mils, traceries, anl carvings, to bo replaced by hideous M odem travesties or the genuine Medieval article. The mutilation of the ancient churches was terrific, bru­ tal, heartless•H Z

It was because or this restoration movement that Hioka, u colorless, country architect whose ability did not extend beyond the building of country farm houses, came into a dubious fortune. This vandalism proved lucrative, and his tin money boxes clanged with the profits of his "impudent thievery.” His staff of assistants, of whom Hardy was one,

~Brenneoke, Ernest Jr.. The Life of T homs Hardy, page 09.

Turnough, Art In Medieval England, p. 167. ~6

were sent to the ommtry to aketoh, survey, and copy old designs,

for there must bo some semblance of the old designs In the more

obvious places•

Had Hardy possessed the ability and liberty

to make a comprehensive study of art, ho could have found no

better training* Tfo seo some reflections from his own life in

Desperate Remedies, in v M o h Sprlngrovo, the apprentice, Is sent

out to copy an old chevroned doorway in an English village churchi

"He took his measurements carefully and as if he re­ verenced the old workers whose trick he was endeavoring to acquire six hundred years after the original perform­ ance had ceased and the performance passed into the unseen. By means of a strip of load called a leaden tape, which he pressed around and into the fillets and hollows with M s finger and thumb, he transferred tiio exact contour, of each moulding to M s drawing that lay on a sketching-stool a few feet distant; where were also a oketoMng-blook, a small T-square, a bom pencil, and other mathematical Instruments. When he had marked down the line thus fixed, he returned to the doorway to copy another as before." Jl

But Hardy was far too much an artist at heart to share in the

"abominable movement" of restoration. His indignation was ex­

cited at the removal of fine old plaoquee containing the Creed,

the Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, and the substitution

for them of hideous modern lettering. wM o h destroyed all sense

of the fin® artistry of past years. In a letter to the London

Times, written October 7, 1914, concerning the bombardment of

the Ithelma Cathedral, he nays:

1 "Hardy, Thomas:Desperate Remedies. Chapter 19. 7

"Their anti quo history xma a part or them and hew can that history he ierparted to a renewal?R 3L

73a® removal and substitution of old head­ stones, too, aroused M s Ire. Old tomb-stones were being used to pave ehureh courts, mad fallen atones were ruthlessly de­ stroyed or reset with no regard to their proper location. In speaking of t M s in his later lire, ho tells the incident of the exchange of the head-stones of a venerable, ooilbate ecologiestie and that of an aotor:

"Future disinterment would make things rather awkward for the old viear, although the aotor," Hardy remarked, "would probably enjoy the situation, having been a comedian. ' M : ' V' . : ' . Again we see his disgust toward vandalism of this kind vested in The Levelled Church-Yard, a poem which appeared in his

Poems of the Fast and Present:

"0 passenger, pray list and catch Our sighs and piteous groans, Half stifled In this jumbled pateh Of wrenched memorial stonesi

We late-lamented, resting here. Are mixed to human jam. And each to each exclaims in fear, *1 know not whieh I ami *

The wicked people have annexed The verses on the good; A roaring drunkard sports the text Teetotal Tommy should!

From restorations of Thy fane, Prom smoothings of Thy sward. From zealous Churchmen* o pick and plane Deliver .us, 0 Lordi Amen!" 3 j Letter written to London Times. Ootobor 14, 1912. Published. October 17, 191%; Toast at Century Club Dinner, London. Preserved by Clement w Shorter and quoted by Brenneeke in The Life of Thomas Hardy p# 92. 3 Poems of Past and Present. "The Levelled Churchyard," p. 49, In Colieotod poems. ~8

But if hio indignation and wrath were stirred, so too, was his imagination, us will be shown later by reference to his novels.

All hie time was not employed in a study of designing, tor ho was already inclining toward the life of a student. For three years Hardy and another apprentice of

John Hicks assisted eaoh other in the study of Creek and Latin, poring over worn-out texts and aiding eaoh other in voo&bul&ry and composition. Hardy, too, made tentative sketches for essays and stories. Some few peons also cane to light, among them the rather ambitious "Domieilium." Hie Intellectual life, however, was not encouraged, either by John Hicks or Hardy's father. Hot being financially free to do as he pleased, the boy had little choice but to stop any creative work. V/e can imagine that Mrs.

Hardy, at least, put nothing in the way of her boy's mental . achievements.

Shortly after M s twenty-second birthday

Hardy was released from his apprenticeship. Like Judo as he watched the spires of distant Christminster and "sighed his soul" toward the environment of culture. Hardy longed fdr Lon­ don. He had been taken there when he was a lad of nine, and the memory of the crowded streets and lofty steeples still •' '' ' - ■: • held fascination for him. With a letter to Arthur Bloafield, a well-known "restorer" and a master of old Gothic, he wont to London to try his profession. He was given a position which sent him to larger cathedrals and finer typos of architecture. -9

Hope and more freqaeatly ho m o ohovm the need for a thorough aoademlc training, and he soon sot about to find'means-of grati­ fying hio need# Elng*s College of the IMversity or London offered night oouraos for young men of Hardy*o ambitiono, and he, accordingly, attended olaoocs regularly, adding to hie men­ tal equipment valuable knowledge which ho had not been able to obtain in Weaeox or Poroheeter# He coon realized his limita­ tions as a pencil or brush artist and began to find that liter­ ature of some kind m o M o forto. Visits to art museums and picture galleries gho:vocl M m that art m o more than craftsman­ ship, **that its ultimate value lay large!)' in the feeling and emotion that vitalized, as by a miracle, the product which penaeatod the senses of his audience.** With this idea in mind, ho studied intensively the schools of painting and sculpture, tMnklng that his literary ability might merge with art in the form of art criticism. The idea of becoming an art critic m s later abandoned, but not until he had formulated a vast theory of art which Included all the world of the Hoses.

During all of M s London life h© m s dabbling in drawing and painting as a rocroation. As wo ace in M s

Wessex Poems, many ideas were put in pictorial form which were later worked out in verse. Memorable among the so is the picture of the coffin being carried into a vault by a group of naked male figures, end another of lovers plighting troth in an old cathedral, unaware of the bones of dead lovers in the vaults befow them. Although the pictures seem to have no finish nor -10

euperfioial etreetlveneBs, there io a sharp, 2toen vision and depth or dignity; although they are grotesque, they convey the author’s meaning In its utter Wcedness.

Ills architectural career camo to its cul­ mination in the aoooptanoe of ono of M s designs by the English

Arohiteotural Assooiation* VThile stimulated by his success, his ambitions topic literary form and he wrote an essay for the

Koyal Institute or British Architecture on "Tho Application or Colored Bricks and Terra Cotta to Modern Architecture,n

Although he received the prise for this, the money award was not given him, because the committee felt that he had not treated the matter in its entirety. This was enough to dle- courago even a thoroughly ambitious student of architecture

(which Hardy was not), and he found himself yielding to the more enticing field of poetry which he considered the philo­ sophical voice of the times. Although he continued M s occa­ sional jaunts with Blomfleld for several years, his technical studios wore, from this time forward, abandoned to the subtle voice of poetry. . A glance at the period in which Hardy began his literary life shows us that it was one of transition in both the literary and industrial fields. From a feudal and agricultural state, England was emerging into a commercial and industrial nation. This change was evidenced in the works of the second-rate writers who scorn to have held the stage at the 1 timOe— Wilkie Collins, Charles Reatlo, Anthony Trollope, and oven i-rs. Craik, with her moronic Jolin Halifax. Gentlemen, were influenolns public thought with their morbidly sentimental inanities. Thackeray had ceased active authorship and died, in

1865; Charlotte Bronte was already dead; and Diekens1 productive period had olosed. Only two vigorous spirits remained (and their voices were raised in protest against the transition):

George Meredith and George allot.

. Realism gradually was replacing sentimental-

Ism, both in thought and in art, and Hardy was a vivid and enthusiastic exponent of this movement. Although he did sup­ port the realists, his brain was at war with his heart, for in sentiment he still belonged to the good old society that was falling in bits about his head.

For five years following the close of his architectural work, he lived in a %uiet suburb of London,

Ho. 16 Weatbourno Park Villas, in the quiet and respectable

Bayswater. Here he wrote poetry and dabbled in small prose.

His architectural shell seemed to loosen very slowly, and his literary work at this time had none of the fineness of which

Stevenson later says, "I would give my right hand to be able to write like Thomas Hardy.” In 1864 he wrote a sketch called, 2 "How I Built %self a House, which deals with the personal sBrenneoke, Ernest Jr,: The Life of Thomas Harfl^. p. 119. — "How I Built Myself a House," Chamber’s) Journal. 1865, quoted from The Life of Thomas HardV, by Ernest Brenneoke, P . 1S1 • -• difficulties experienced in architectural work. Although it

had little of Hardy1 a later stylo, and in spite of the fact

that the hard architectural shell is very obvious, it was ac­

cepted by Chamber's) m&asine. ,

Of his poetry during this period, little

can be said, for although he produced a few promising pieces,

such as "The Bride-light Fire," "Amabel," and "Her Definition,

they all show an uneasiness of style and uncertainty of rhythm

It is well to remember that all his earlier works, both in prose and poetry, betray the "ferment" produced by his times and his lack of orientation, when his brain struggled with his heart, and M s art with both.

In 1867 he moved to Weymouth (the Budraouth

of his novels), a little south coast town. While living here he met W.so Emma Lavinia Gifford, a strong-willed, resourceful

girl of excellent family. She was niece to a well-known Arch­ deacon of London, and her family stood M g h In eoolesiastioal and scholarly circles. At the disdainful lady1a feet Hardy

threw many lovo lyrics, some of which wore made well known

by the. publication of "Wessex Poems." Kiss Gifford and her

family expected him to make good as an author and, since he was at that time feeling very strongly the pinch of poverty,

he started to write a novel. "Up to this time he had experi­

mented in the field of architecture, with poetry and with

small prose, low at the ago of t M r t y he was not yet sure

of hie ability in any one line. The novel, scarcely more than a clever eehool~fcoy product, m m finlehcd and sent to the

Cons table publishing house la London# Shis was perhaps the

moat fortunate move he had yet made, for It foil Into the hands

of George Meredith, who promptly rejected it* Ho saw in it,

however, the struggling of a possible author, and asked Hardy

for a conference* "Full of overheated, unripe, revolutionary ' doctrines, which one learns to except from powerful but slowly

maturing minds" was Meredith's verdict upon the novel* This

interview, later celebrated by Hardy's "G.M*" and published

at Meredith's death, was perhaps the most fruitful event of

Hardy*s life. The novel, in the meantime, had been accepted

by another London firm, but Hardy, true to the artist .within

him, withdrew it from the market and at Meredith's sincere

advice, revised the entire manuscript. Lot it bo said in his

favor that the book was never published, for it never met with

the author's approval*

Once embarked upon the fictional seas, one

novel followed rapidly on the heels of another* Within three

years beanorate Remedies. Under tho Greenwood free (perhaps

his prettiest steely), and A Pair of Blue Eves had all round

. their way to an audience* For fifteen years (up to 1895), ho

produced novels in rapid succession, scarcely stopping for

any recreation or vacation, unless the building of his homo

may be so called, ihx Gate, built from his own designs,

was found to cover an ancient Roman cemetery, whore a platoon

of Hadrian's army had been interred* Built In the midst of 1-1'

an almost Inpenotrable mass of trees and small growths* which ocreenea it from the litehrays In all directions, it emphasises the owner’s desire for privacy more tlian do the homos or moot i&iglish authors# ■ / ■ _

In 1897, Hardy puhllehod tho last or his novels. The 17oll-Bolovca. a oof ions and seei^ahenrd story of idealistic love, a M turned to poetry, desiring to devote M s ending years to that riold or art* isven at thio comparatively early day, he was ohseeeect with tlio idea of death, which re­ mained with M m until his day of passage. In many ways Hardy was well adapted to poetry* ltd had a certain clear-out vision w M o h enabled M m to see in detail as well as wholly, the idea he wished to express In meter* His first book or poems,

TJessex Poems, was well received, end though in many cases they were the retelling or incidents from M s novels, they wore done with such a concentration or power and with such vigor that they even oscellod M s poetical prose,

% e Opening years or the nineteen: hundreds found Hardy in pursuit or a project that he had long wished to take up. since writing The Trumpet Major and even before, ho had been ambitious to write an epic drama which would adequately portray ingland's share in the Napoleonic conflict. With the publication or Poems of the Past and Present he.turned to work on the least read but finest product of all. The lamaatg.

Based upon a strain from the noble "Magnificat," It izas a 15

d r a m meant for "mental peinformenoe" only. In two years ho

had oompleted the first volume of this mighty work, and four

yoaro lator saw the completion of all three volumes. The pub­

lic was profoundly amazed, at the gigantic proportions of the

author’s nineteen-aet, a m -hundred-end-forty-pocno-work# In

fact, the public is still so znueh anazod at the profundity

and enormousness of the work and so. much awed at the porten­

tous opening soane, that they seldom go boyond the first few

sentences. "What of iho Immanent Mill?" says this dramatic

opening, and the reader is stunned. Bach time has been spent

in speculating over the metaphysics of the poem, and in philos­

ophising over tho "Immanent Will" that even scholars have

failed to see the charm of the beautiful country scenes on

the English Coast or the depth and sweep of the mighty Trafal­

gar scenes. The average scholar is so apt to dissect the

drama from the standpoint of the stage-spectacle that he fails

to see Hardy’s real purpose: that of creating a mental drama

in which we may see ourselves. Above all, they fail to see

that Tho Dynasts being

"full of a great pity and a great patience, purges those who lovo it, of meanness, la^atienee, and self-pity." !_

A few facts of his later life aro interest- - • ' : :■ ing in their bearing on the picture of Hardy, the personality.

Shortly after the completion of The Dynasts, and some years

T” : 1 ' ~ ~ ” “'Ford, Ford Bador: "Thomas Hardy, 0. M. Obit., January, 1928." lew York Horaid Tribune, January 22, 1928. -IS- ' .

after the death of his wife. Hardy, at the ago of sovonty-foxar, married Florence Emily Dugdale, an author or several delight­ ful children's books, and a writer of occasional piooee for magazines, taie was able to share in the honor which came so rapidly, during his later days. She still survives to preserve the unpublished literary matter which otherwise would prove a luscious plum to collectors who Impudently barter in the lives of the great.

Shortly before his second marriage, he had been made Doctor of Laws by Aberdeen ana later by Oxford, the

Christminister to which he had given a rather uncomplimentary thrust in "Jude." Cambridge bestowed upon him an honorary

Litt. D«, as well as an honorary Fellow of Magdalen College,

At Hcrefiith'a death he succeeded to the Order of Merit, besides being made literary Fellow in the Atheneem.

There wore honors, too, other than literary, which show his public service. He was a member of the Fro tec- l tion of Animals committee, held the office of Justice of the

Peace for his district until 19216, and was a member of various civic fellowships.

In January, at the age of eighty-seven,

Thomas Hardy, the "fingerer of the heartstrings of men" and hintsolf a harp played on by the winds of pity and tenderness for humanity passed from the sorrows of the earth which, for

so many years, he had looked on with compassion. It is fitting •17

that hi a dust should H o near that or Chaucer and that West­ minister, the home of the Immortals, should shelter another whose place there will always remain unchallenged, The four stubborn English syllables — Thoms Hardy — are already beginning to gather ageless fame* •16

(HAMER IX.

mis IIOVELISg

Shat the determinism of Thomas Hardy m s

Sue to the “Kallgnant power of % d o n Heath to award, and thwart

the aspiring eouln has beeomo a glib phrase on the tongues of

journeymen scholar a# They go on to tell us that he was the

victim of a blind pessimism which knew no ultimate hope, quot­

ing to prove their assertion, that phrase from his Wessex

Tales which eocms to fit the situation:

" E v e n t s . . s h o w e d that curious refinement of cruelty in their arrangement which proceeds from the bosom of the , whimsical God at other times known as blind circumstance.

Before making such swooping generalisations lot us pass his 1 novels in swift review. With Meredith's advice in mind —

"Less talk — Hore incident" — Hardy finished. Desperate Rone-

dlea in 1870. William lyono Phelpsin his general surrey,

as well as J. W. Cunllffo^ have oharaoterisod it as nM s first

and worst work." He had followed Meredith's advice to the

letter, and Desperate Remedies contained no paucity of action;

it was full of sensation, murder, conflagration, and thrills

both artificial and convincing. His architectural life being

&/o8sex Talea: "She Fellow-Townsman."Chapter 6. —Phelps, 7/m. lyon: "Hardy's 15 Hovels," Forum. Tar., 1928. ^Cunllffo, J. W.j "English Literature During the last Half Century." Chapter 3. -19-

ab bIo s ® behind, him, the book allows the stiff, orderly pre­ cision of thought so frequently seen in the work of the skill­ ful craftsman. It was u book of bones, rather than of flesh and blood, and was almost entirely unrelieved by the scenes from rural lire wliioh make others of his books so tiiarndLng.

His next novel, Under the Greenwood Tree. shows ouoh a growth In art as to amount to a veritable trans­ formation. Hero wo ooe Hardy, the idyllist, a gay, Joyous, light-hearted son of the Wessox downs. Very little shadow plays on the characters which move through these pages; they are among his loveliest. "Ho one since Shakespeare has created such characters as the shepherds; their humor is like the laughter of Shakespeare which Carlyle called, ’sunshine on the deep sea.*" 1

Although tills novel is slight in texture it has all the charm of old England, untouched by the industrialism against which

Carlyle, Buskin, and our Hardy waged such unsuccessful battles.

The Joy and charm of Under the Greenwood

Tree was partially eclipsed in Hardy’s third novel, A fair of

Blue Eyes. It was a good story but a heartbreaking one, and failed to win public favor until later books brought Hardy into prominence. In speaking of this book, Professor Phelps says:

- Phelps, Wm. Lyon: Some M o d e m novelists. Chapter 2. -ISO-

11 It vna the firot novel of Hardy that I read.... I wan quite unprepared for Its heartbreaking oonolualon. It was the moot shattering blow I have received from any novel; I had not believed that any work of fiction could hurt so* I went to bed and stayed there one week* Such was the effect produced on me by a Pair of Blue jgyes." 1

In spite of its devastating effect on some of our critics, wo must judge this as one of the most important novels of the series, for it was the first distinctly characteristic Hardy novel.

The unpopularity of A Pair of Blue £yes was amply atoned for by the appearance in the Cornhlll Magazine of an anonymous article. Far from the iSaddlng Crowd. At the time, it was generally supposed to be the work of George KLiot, - p who, it is thought, would have liked to claim it.— As far as the public is concerned this, together with The Return of the native and Teas of the D'Urbervlllcs constitutes the writings of Thomas Hardy. And it was good; critics proclaiming it the best English novel of the last half century. The finest of all of Hardy’s male characters, the shepherd, Gabriel Oak, is found in this, his fourth novel. A great deal of fineness is shown in the portrayal of the rural characters,' Joseph Poor- grass and the old Maltser, serving as the mouthpiece of Hardy’s

1 Phelps, Wm. lyon: "Hardy’s Fifteen levels," Forum, Far., 1928 2 Phelps, Wm. lyon: "Hardy’s Fifteen Hovels," Forum, Far*, 1928 "Like moot of Thomas Hardy’s novels, this was first printed serially. It appeared in the pages or the Cornhlll Faaazine. with no author’s name. Fahy reviewers believed it waoljy George Eliot, who I think wished it wore." •21

philosophy. H@ has a sympathetic tenderness in dealing with rustic characters as they generalize about the universe, which shows us humor as well as pathos.

The next of M s novels is a valley between two mountains. His art soeras to have been exhausted with the completion of Far from the Eaddlnr Crowd, his excellent pastoral.

Another fact which may account for this nsomewhat frivolous narrative" may have been absorption in his newly married state.

For he married Kiss Gifford just after the success of Far from the Kaddin# Crowd. Be we pass over The Hand of Sthelberta as being unworthy of the praise accorded a Hardy novel.

With the publication of The Return of the native, "superb in its construction, beautiful to contemplate as the Parthenon," the series of controversies which surround all his later works began. The reserve, the dignity, and the severity of a classic tragedy are round in this work. The author seems for the first time to have been able to stand apart from his work and view it objectively, for wo have little of Hardy in this book. Its principal character, and the one which unifies all his works, blending them in its harmonious melancholy, is sfcdon Heath. The time, "A Saturday afternoon in November .....approaching the time of twilight" forms the keynote to the entire novel; all the characters, all the incidents are veiled in melancholy twilight. S M nest four novels seem to be worthy • of little more than a rapid cataloguing. %kc SCrnopot I/a.Ior. . which first espressos his deep interest in the International

Bapoleonio tragedy, Is a genial work and servos as a desirable introduction to his oplo-drama, A e Dynasts. A Loodiccan. dictated during a six months1 illness, seems to have been written for the immature mind. For the public its chief interest lies in the rapidly-moving plot, but to the Hardy student it pre­ sents a most interesting autobiography• It gives more or his personal architectural experiences than any others of his books.—

The next novel, which nemo but an architect could have written, is not without its Interesting characters, two on a Tower is the story or a very charming "lady of quality" and of a young astronomer. The tower, which dominates the story as well as the countryside, can bo felt as well as seen. The Romantic

Adventures of a Milkmaid is so Alight as to be scarcely worthy of classification among Hardy1s masterpieces. It is very fre­ quently emitted from his bibliographies and few, except the critics, seem to be aware of its existence. However, it ranks very favorably with the best works of some of Hardy’s lesser contemporaries. It is scarcely to bo mentioned in the same breath with Wilkie Collins’s.Boonstone In either form or subject matter.

"Bramiecke, JSmest Jr.: The Life of Thomas Hardy, p. 160, gives a splendid brief summary or these works• -ss-

The profound, of foot of Hardy’s Old Testa­

ment training is soon in The Biyor of Castorbrl&rc. one of hie

better-Xnown novels* Hero Hardy soema to havo extended the

long arm of coincidence to bring about moot striking tortures$

he has made use of arranged bad luck to bring about an Old

Testament If emesis.

The love and knowledge of nature which so

lend to the beauty of the He turn of the native are developed

to an almost uncanny intimacy In The Woodlanders. This is a

dramatic expression of the German idealistic philosophy which

so influenced Thomas Hardy’s Tho Dynasts. The characters in

this novel stem to bo a part of the animal end vegetable world,

and the splendor of the trees seems to exceed even these.

The sensational tragedy of Tens of the D*

Urbervilles followed the publication of Y?eosex Tales and A

.Group of noble Dames. "It was a product of several years of

sustained reflection and research,” and has proved quite a

favorite with the public, even having reached tho stage of

popularity which led to its filming some years ago. Objective

judgment on anything which stirs the emotions so deeply and

permanently as does this is difficult to give. At first glams#

wo can see the long series of predestined events which are made

use or, but wo can not rail to see that they are so cleverly handled as to seem true to oirourastanoc. -84-

Another poriod of comparative ctuiet pre- coded the publication of Judo Hie Obscure, the story of a masculine Toss. That it was produced in the heat e f .great angor makes us none the less certain that it m s not accompanied by the artistic glow of creation* On the contrary, it is written with ouch a faith in the final triumph of ultimate goodnoae, and In such einoerity of fooling that it seems to portray the final grace of art* The plenitude of Hardy's power scorns to be shown here more baldly than In any other novel he has written.

The last of the novels to be published in book form m s The Well Beloved, which had appeared In serial form the year that the Aterm clouds were surrounding Teas* In spite of a few magnificent descriptions and a great deal of ingeniousness, the story falls to give us anything but a negli­ gible impression* One critic has said of it:

"It almost seems as if the author had purposely dealt himself the worst possible hand, in order to test hi® skill in playing it." .1

. . During the time in which Hardy worked on his first novel| he gradually conceived the ambitious plan of recreating a geographical and spiritual Kingdom in Wessex and

thus preserving its historical grandeur. Theseus, wo arc told,

destroyed "that delightful creature, the centaur," who asserted g the "prerogative of poetic protest" and survives thereby.—

‘"‘Ctmllffe, J.W.: English Literature during the Last Half Century. Chapter

See next page. Johnson, Lionel! 3?ho Art of Pnomaa Hardy, p. 89* "That is a thing to smse upon; Art tho jri'ooorvorl Art gathering %> the wonder and pm/oro, no longer living of themselves, but henceforth to live only in Art, which hao a natural orfioo of pioty towards the past* Ihs Hardy has done/this service to a great region of England, to Wessex; for so, with ohar- aeteristio love of reality, he calls the land of his inven­ tions hy no imaginary name, but by a name of famous ages and meaning*.*»**In calling the land of M's birth and of his art after its ancient namo, the land of the West Saxons, Mr. Hardy would have us feel the sentiment of historleal continuity from those old times to ours, the storms of violent fortune, the slow touches of change, which have loft their trace upon the land, while leaving it at heart the same."

Art does preserve, and it is through Hardy * s novels that we have preserved for us the old Wessex. Hero wo have not only an ardent devotion to a country, district, or plaoo, but a rare exhibition of art in dealing with them*

Tho goograpMc&l Wessex is not a region of strict boundaries; it includes parts of Winchester, Salis­ bury, Bristol, and Exeter; but for practical purposes it can be thought of as nearly equivalent to the eeunty of Dorset.

A carefully arranged map shows us the exact location of each town celebrated in the novels, but it is not the purpose of the present paper to intrude upon the actual location of the novels, which is equivalent to pointing out the originals of tho characters he portrays* It was at no time Hardy*a desire to servo as a guidebook for Dorset any more than it was tho purpose of Dickens to act as a London Baedeker. Rather than place each or Hardy*0 novels, let*It be sufficient to show :/ gpttjer&l charaoteriatios of the country which he representede

// ' ' ■ •: : ' / Few parts of England are so wrapped In

ancient historical memories as Dorsetshire. It is an aged

z county as is proved by its weathered towers, its Homan roads, / ' ; i' ; > ■■ 1 ' ' - • and its lonely barrows. Its towns are old Georgian in archi-

gesture, Roman in plan, severe in regularity, and comfortable / in cleanliness. A .. "The old town of Casterbridge announced old Rome in / every street, alley, and precinct," says Hardy, in his / Mayor of Casterbridge. "It looked Roman, bespoke the / art of Rome, concealed dead men of Rome. It was impossible to dig more than a foot or two deep about the towns, 1 fields, and gardens withemt coming upon some tall soldier or other or the Empire who had lain there in his silent, unobtrusive rest for a space of fifteen hundred years..... There, just without the town on the south road, is the vast Amphitheater; where, so old people affirmed, at cer­ tain moments in the summer time in broad daylight, persons sitting with a book, or dosing in the arena, had, on 11ft- ing their eyes, beheld the slopes lined with a gazing / legion of Hadrian* s soldiery, as If watching the gladitorial / combats, and had heard the roar of their excited voices; ' that the scene would remain but for a moment, like a . lightning flash, and then disappear. In that grim place met the Mayor of Oasterbridge and his wife, sold long years / before; and when she died she was buried in the still-used burial ground of the old Roman-Britleh city, whose envious ‘ feature was this, its continuity as a place.of sculpture."JL

If tempted to think this description an exaggeration of the

/truth, the reader has only to turn to Robert Louis Stevenson’s rr ■ i The Wrecker in which he characterizes the same Dorset town:

■ I ~ ” ■ . , Tjtxe Mayor of Casterbridge. Chanter 11 •

- ■ , . -B7*

"The tov/n m o of Roman foundations; and as I looked out that afternoon from the low window of the inn, I should scarcely have been surprised to soo a centurion . coming up the street with a fatigue draft of legionaries*n~

The presense of the old Roman church, too,

is felt as strongly as that of the old Roman armies* It Is not necessary to quote from the almost innumerable passages which show the influence of the old Gothic churehes in their

communities* Beside their ecclesiastical influence they serve many secular purposes* In that delightfully humorous story,

The Distracted P r e a c h e r tinged like all of Hardy's, with pathos, we find the church acting as a convenient place of : ' : ‘ ■ • concealment for the liquor which the villagers smuggle as a means of support, and wo ao not fail to remember that the tower

of the samo church was the hiding place for the smugglers during the sheriff's raid* In Jude the Obscure we watched

the restoration of numerous cathedrals and saw that the villagers

took the liveliest interest in the work as it was being done*

The yards of the old ohurehes in Return of the native and

Far from the Hadding Crowd serve as thesotting for important

incidents In the narratives. It was through the gorgon'o head

on the church roof that the water poured on the grave of poor

Fanny Robin, washing away the flowers that Sergeant Trey had

planted there. jL The y/reoker. Chapter 2. — Wessex Tales. "The Distracted Preacher*n T*8-

Hardy’s most descriptive charm is brought out in his portrayal or ancient buildings. One of the most beautiful of his pastoral scenes takes place in an old Gothio barn used for sheep-shearing* fhia picture is given us in

Terns of the D ’TJrbervlllcs:

"They slicared. in the great bam, called for the none® the Shearing-barn, which in ground-plan resembled a church with transepts. It not only emulated the form of the neighboring church of the parish, but vied with it in antiquity. Whether the barn had ever formed one of a group of conventual buildings .nobody seemed to be aware; no trace of such surroundings remained. The vast porches at the aides, lofty enough to admit a wagon laden to its highest with corn and the sheaf, were spanned by heavy . pointed arches of stone, broadly and boldly cut, whose very simplicity was the origin of a grandeur not apparent in erections where mere ornament lias been attempted. The dusk-filmed chestnut roof, braced and tied in by huge ; collars, curves, and diagonals, was far nobler In design, because more wealthy in material, than nine-tenths of those of our modern churches. Along each side wall was a range of striding buttresses, throwing deep shadows on the spaces between thorn, which were perforator by lancet openings, combining in their proportions the precise re­ quirements both or beauty and ventilation#

"One could say about this barn, what could hardly bo said of cither the church or the castle, akin to it in age and style, that the purpose which had dictated its original erection was the sane with that to which it was still applied. W l i k e and superior to cither of those two typical remnants of medievalism* the old barn embodied practice® which had suffered no mutilation at the hands of time. Here at least the spirit of the ancient builders was at one with the spirit of the modern beholder. Stand­ ing before this abraded pile, the eyo regarded its pres­ ent usage, the mind dwelt upon its past history, with a satisfied sense of functional continuity throughout— a feeling almost of gratitude and quite of pride, at the permanence of the idea which had heaped it up." 1

T Teas of the D'Hfbervlllos. Chapter 34. -tsven the animals which move through these pastoral pages savour of ontiouity by virtue or their environ­ ment. Speaking of the oalvon oholtorcd under the arohes or the old barn* he say^o: cooled their thirsty tongues by licking the quaint Borman carvings which glistened with the moisturee”

Ancient rites and customs are regarded by

Mr. Hardy as the veil behind which lurks spiritual desire, and a special touch of rare romance is added to his novels in M s

Skillful handling or these mysteries. In tho Ihyor of Caster- bridge wo read of Michael Henohord’o sale of his wife; in

Teas of the D'nrborvllles vre travel along the ehohanted wall:, pass solemn moments at Stonehenge, and view tho murder of

Alee; and in the Return of tho native wo sea signal fires . burning from Danish Barrows. Through all these strange cere­ monies we ©an seo Hardy1 a simple love for the ancient.

But tor the charm of Wessex wo turn to its country folk:, who, although often unessential to the narrative, serve to strengthen its force and power. Just as a Greek Chorus, with its leisurely and appropriate sayings ' supports the principal characters of tho play, the pictures­ que country folk form the chorus whose duty it is to insist upon the stable moralities of life. Joseph Poorgraas, Mark

Clark, and Coggan pass through the scenes in which BSthsheba and Farmer Boldwood appear; not drawling bucolic commonplaces but Giving the words of tried wisdom and erperlenee whieh form

a contrast between the chief actors and themselves# The peo­ ple of whom he writes Include all varieties of class, varying

from respectability to vagabondage: they include tradesmen, ^ — millers,_gamek®epera, Innkeepers and their servants, farmers

and their helpers, dairy maids, carriers, servants, sad cottagers

In them wo see the greatness as well as the smallness of life.

It is not enough that we see them in a group; wo must see them

isolated and singled out. It is not enough that wo know their

material oircuastanoes; we must understand their spiritual

natures; we know them as men of strong character, or experience,

of quick, original thought, versatility of expression, as mean­

ingful philosophers, as children of the soil wh6 know how to

deal with the ruggodness of their own minds. Their simple

words of wisdom, platitudinous though they may seem, come from

laborious exporienoo, as wo can sec in Farmer Par ton’s words:

"Hanging and wiving go by destiny."—

And again in the words of Farmer' John:

M,Tlo like rooomraending a stage play by saying there’s neither murder, villainy, nor liarm of any sort in it, when that’s what you’ve paid to sec." 2

So words are wasted from pure dealro to talk, fiotioe the brevity

of speech in Joseph Poorgraos’s

"Cod’s a Perfect Gentlemen,"^

Season Talcs. "Intcrlouers of the Zzmp." 2lbid. — Far froi& tho Ikiddin^ Crowd, Chapter 14. Ono by one they bring forth their simple philbsophioo in simple phrases: ' ' '■ "Your nest world*1 a your nest uorld and not to be squandered off-hand*" 1

A M again:

"•I’io none too caoy a matter, io life, take it gentle or take it rough.".2

T/hat oould be a more conoeatrated biography of a good man than

2&rty South’s words over her lover’s grave?

"low, my own, own love, you are mine; for olio has forgot you at last, although for her you died* But I— wh«aerer I got up I ’ll think or ’oo; whenever I plant the young larches I ’ll think that none e&n plant ao you planted; and whenever I split a gad; and whenever I turn the elder wring, I ’ll cay none could ao it like you. If ever I forgot your name, lot mo forget heme and Heaven! But no, no, my love, I never can forget *ee; for you were a good man and did good things." 3

Again in the comment on Zlro. Henohard’a death we oeo the con­ centration In power of oppression:

"And she was white ao marble-stone," said Mrs* Gux- soa* "And llkowlse ouoh a thoughtful woman too— ah, poor soul! — that 'a minded every little thing that wanted tending. ’Yes, ’ nayo oh®, ’When I ’m gone, and my last breath*a Slewed, look in the top drawer o ’ the cheat in tho back room by the window, and you’ll find my coffin clothes: a piece of flannel that’s to put under me, and the little piece io to put under my head; and my new stockings for qy feet they are folded alongside, and all my other things and there*o four ounce pennies, the heaviest I could find, atiod up in bits of linen, for weights— two for my right and two for my left eye,* oho said. ’And when you’ve used them, and my eyes.don’t open no more, bury the pennies, good souls, end don’t yo go spending ’em, for I shouldn’t like it...*.... . "Ah, poor heart!" "Well, and Martlia did it, and buried the ounce pennies

Far %rom the & owd. Chapter Id. 1 %bid. " 3 The Woodlandera* Chapter 4d. In the garden• Bat it you111 boliovo wrdo, that nan, Christopher Coney, Trent and dug ’em up and spent 'an at the King of Prussia. ,Baith, * ho said, fv/hy ahould death deprive life or rour-ponco? Death’s not of suoh good report that we should respoot ’on to that extent,1 says ho." 1

It is to be observed timt these Wessex folk display their thoughts most racily and richly when con­ versation turns to the airzplo emotions. In few of them is talk merely pretty or poetical; it has power and foroefulness which at times, as in Ihrty South’s reverie, rises to high crescendos. Although the greater number of characters are simple of speech and sometimes irreverent, they have a certain delight in a neat turn of phrase. This is evident in #ta speech of John Hostler of Old Fox:

"More know Tom Fool than Tom Fool knows I" said John Hostler...... and rojoieed Mohael the milkman with so choice a bit of wording. "Fore know Tom Pool— what rambling old cantiole is it you cay. Hostlerf" enquired the milkman, lifting his oar. "Lot’s havo it again— a good saying well spit out is a Christmas fire to my withered heart, rnro 3mow Ton Fool...... " "Than Tom Fool knows," said tho Hostler. "AhI % a t ’s tho very fooling I ’ve fooled over and over again, hostler, though not in suoh gifted language. ’Tio a thought I ’ve had in mo more or lass for years, and never could 11 ok into shape I — 0— ho — ho — hoi Splendid I" 2. We are quite apt to think this c&rioaturo, unless wo aro able to remember the fine feeling that has come to no when wo havo heard our own thoughts better expressed than we could express them.

Chapter 39. One of the most curiously fascinating aspects of those country folk is their paganism* It consists in a primitive superstition about places and. things; it is

Mfotiohistio" ana only disguised under a Christian nomencla­ ture* They still seek familiar spirits and wisards* When the butter would not come Dairyman Crick m s deoporates

"*Tlo years oinoo I went to Conjuror Trondlc1o son in % d o n — years,n said the Dairyman bitterly. ’’And I d o n H believe in him. But I shall have to go to him, if he’s alive. Oh, yes, I shall have to go to him, it this sort of thing continues.”. ,1

Heathen rites still continue to hold them in thralle Susan

Honsuch made a waxen image of Bastaeia Vyo, murmured the Lord’s prayer backwards thrice, stuck it full of pine, end watched it melt in the flames; Bahtsheba, to be considered much above the Sank of the common folk, enlisted Liddy, the maid, at aivira- tlon with Bible and key; the Mayor of Casterbridge consultod conjuror Fall; and in The Woodlandors divination by heap seed was tried in the meadow mi midsummer ■ Sve#

In spite of their inherent pagan!tm, the country people adhere to ancient forms of worship, which they accept naturally, as the only existing order of things.

"It was a louring, mournful, still afternoon, when a religion of some sort seems a necessity to ordinary, practical men, and not only a luxury of the emotional and

~ geos of the p’Urbervllleo. Chapter 32. -34-

loicurcd olaBoos” that Fanny Robla'o coffin lay wider its dripping boughs in the chill wind, Joseph Poorgrasa and his companions, sitting around the comfortable fire inside the

Boar's Read Inn, reviewed their opinions of religion and eter­ nal lifoj

"1 believe you to bo a chapel-member, Joseph, I do." "Oh, no, nol I don't go so far as that." "For my. part, * said Coggan, "I *m staunoh Cheroh of

' ■ "■

”1 won't say much for myself; I don't wish to," Coggan continued, with tliat tendency to talk on princi­ ple ehich is ohsracteriotio of the barley-corn, "But I've never changed a single doctrine; I've stuck like a plaster to the old faith I was born in. Yes: there's this to bo said for the church, a man can belong to the church and live in his cheerful old inn, and never trouble or worry his mind about doctrines at all. But to be a mectinger, you must go to chapel in all winds and weathers, and make yeroolf as frantic as a skit, not but that chapel members be clover chaps enough in their way. They can lift up beautiful prayers out of their own heads, all about their families, and shipwrecks in the newspapers." "They can— they can," said Fork Clark, with corro­ borative feeling; "but we Chwrotoen, you see, must have it all printed aforchard, or, dang it all, wo should no more know what to say to a great person like the Lord .than babes unborn." M w n ?f M m n M "Yes," said Coggan. "We know very well that if any­ body goes to heaven, they will. They've worked hard for it, and they deserve to have it, such as 'tio, I hate a follow who'll change his old ancient doctrines for the sake of getting to heaven." ,1

Of a piece with this constancy or religious boiler, and none the loss sacred, is the fatalistic view of life taken by tho

from tho Madding Crowd, Chapter 31, Weeaex poor. While the dotominioa shorn in Hardy1 a verge and drama aeoma touohod by the rayg of ultimate hopo, the novels

seem to lack this (Hiality, Shronghout all M o books n H ’-ms to be" lo the consolation^ meditation, and jnotification of

the oottotrymen. They look upon life "loss as a battlefield

than as a plao® of ordeal," They are all blindfolded and pass through the world as fate loads them. Powerful and energetic V of nature as the Mayor of Caotorbridge is, he does not quarrel with M s fate, but takes,_it_a8_hlo_juet_aeaert; he spent no

time in considering Whether M s "lots had fallen in pleasant places," M s thought in times of..arf 11 etion...belng,...rather,

"I am to suffer, I perooivo." It Dooms cliaraoteristic of these village folk that, although their natures are wild and passion­ ate, there is no wild anger displayed in regard to sorrow, pain,

or loss. Herein H o b the most tragic of Hardyfa tragedies,

that men filled with such strong passion should accept for­

tune with such impassive patlenoo. Prom tho Woooez Tales wo

take a concentrated comment w M o h shows their acceptance of

the universe:

"•••••the events•«•••• shewed that ourioua refinement of cruelty In their arrangement which often proceeds from the bosom of the whimsical God at other times known as blind Oireumstattoo." !_

It is t M s mild acceptance of destiny which lends the alter­

nating airs of gloom, tranquility, and melancholy to M o works.

t : * 1 1 1 1 ' wesaeac Tales: "The Throe Strangers," Whan Fate is kind there is a simple, humorous Joy in their

aooeptanoe or it; when she frowns there is submission, aognl-

eeeenoo, resignation,

% e beginnings of philosophical idealism

and in the belief in the influenoo of mental action upon phyei*

eal processes are found in all of his novels* Theso ideas,

whioh will bo later developed in Tho Dynasts, arc evidenced in c ' Wessex Tales* In "The Withered A m ” he reports a legend whioh,

to his mind, demonstrates that tho mind is the creative princi­

ple underlying all visible phenomena and organising all physi­

cal existence* In this talo a woman's hatred for her rival is

co strong that when she, in imagination, grips the ana of her

enemy, the actual marks of her fingers appear on the real per­

son, causing paralysis. Another story in this group is that of

11 An Imaginative Woman.’1 Tho woman of tho story falls in lovo

with the photograph of a young poet* Although the lady is

married, she broods over the picture of her ideal, hoping to

meet him. Before a meeting is possible the poet has committed

suicide. A year later, after her death, her husband discovers

that thoir © h l M bears an unmistakable resomblanoe to tho photo­

graph of the poet*

It must bo also noted in this connection

that the feeling of futility which is so often experienced in

the novels of Hardy is hero well expressed* The young poet

commits suicide because he has never found his ideal, and

despairs of finding a true esthetic love; the wire dies, having foxma. her Ideal, hut too late*

V M l e those inatancoo nark hat an approach to notaphyoical Idealism* the novolo aro not entirely lacking

In echoes of metaphysics# In She Woodlandero, Fitsplere, tho physician, is made tho vehicle of the author's transcend entail sm : , . ' . - Fitzplors prefers the ideal world to the real and constantly "|. reads the irorks of the German metaphysicians•— A few Instances will show the Poe tor's sentiments:

nnature has at last recovered her lost union with the idea, % thoughts ran in that direction because I had been reading the work of a transcendental philosopher last night, and I dare say it was the dose of Idealism that 1 received from It that made me scarcely able to distinguish between reality and fancy*” 2

A little later we road:

"Strangeness is not in the nature of a thing— but in its relation to something extrinsic*" £

Fltspier'o idealism is not the effort of Hardy to introduce an exotic character in the Wessex regions it is the expression of a Kandyan philosophy as is shown by his own words in the same book:

"Bay from the highest point of view, to precisely describe a human being, the focus of a universe — how impossiblei But apart from transcendentalism* «#•••" i Tho Yfoodlandera, Chapter 16. & The Woodlandero. Chapter 13. ~ T/oodlanders. Chapt er 18 # £ The i7oodlanders. Chapter 5* ■Again, in Jude wo oeo tho name ospresaion of tranaoenaentalism. Judo roalisoa tho toaoeneea of oharaoter in the w o m n he lovod, and he conooloa liinnolf by kooping up

na raetitioua belief in her* Hio idea of her was the thing of moot conaeqtumoe, not Arabella hereol£*n 1

In Teas of tho D ’Urbervilloa wo read these lines:

"Natural prooosoco aoomed a part of her own story. Bather they booamo a part of it, for tho world la only a cerebral phenomenon, by all account, and what they noemod they were," 2

f^fh® rise and fall of noble families, upon which Hardy loves to meditate, is a common thing, and helps to make the affliction of the poor more bearable. In the Wessex

Tales, that collection of half-ironical, half humorous, and wholly charming stories, wo see this comment:

11 By tho ■cine the eventful year had chimed, every vestige of M m had disappeared from tho precincts of his native place, and the name' became extinct in the borough of Port— Breedy, after having been a living force therein for more than two hundred years.” J5

This vague sense of departing greatness, as a common thing

transmitted from father to son, explains the air of passion-

loss calm and massive grandeur so often to bo found in the

commonplace comments of Hardy*a countrymen, as they ponder upon the ways of time and death.

3. Ju&o tho Obscure. Part I. Chanter 8. —— —- 8 Teas of the D'Hrbervilles. Chapter 12, 3 Wessex Tales: "The Fellow Townsman”. Chapter 4. Hot only in thin class oi* people is the fatalistic philosophy of life apparent; their masters, as well, arc ititraod with it. At the finding of that hitter "will” of

Michael Henohard, Donald, asks:

“What are we to do?” She could not anewer distinctlye "Oh, Donald," aho said at last, "what bitterness lies there1 But there1o no altering — so it must bo," 1

Only protest and pity at the unalterable ways of "the blind God— oirouMtance" pi tree through the steady darkness of the Hardy novels* Qie naked misery and. agony of soul, sublimatod through endurance to grandeur, like the "aaored madness" of King Dear is of a piece with the wild seenes of their passion* ^"Human souls may find theasolvos in closer and closer harmony with eternal things wearing a aombemess in har­ mony with their surroundings*" They retain a clear, strong personality not ongulfod by vast cro\7do, nor distracted by the whirl of life, and the singular impressiveness of their virtues and vices are due to this existing harmony*

Instead of crowds, tlio characters love the

society of the trees, the winds, the water; instead of the diversions of amusements, they have the sheep, the horses, and

the countless creatures of the fields and woodlands; "their hopes, their fears, experiences, sciences, their faith and

love, sorrow and hate, are nourished by the Mighty Mother*"

"""The Mayor of Caotorbridpc, Chapter 44* i--— -40

If death offers then no hope, neither does life offer then untold sorrow; a light-hearted, almost humorous joy springs from their simplicity of life. Are the novels pessimistic?

Ho, let us rather say that they portray the blind acceptance

/ of a not-too-terrible fate which "was to be,"

She modern novelist is typified in Hardy, '

in that he loves to portray the complexity of things, the

clash of motives and principles, and the encounter of subtle

emotions. His power lies in several principles which contrast with and illustrate each other: The play of life, both tragic and comic, in one locality, the "Kingdom of Wessex,* to which

new ideas penetrate but slowly; the portrayal of countrymen

of powerful natures, disciplined by the necessities of life

rather than by consciously acquired virtues of mind or soul;

the contrast with them of men of superior education and posi­

tion, who are inferior to the former in strength and fineness

of mature; the meeting place of all these characters, the pass­

ion of love, to create which, women of many varied natures

are introduced, the rustic girls usually endowed with beauty,

simplicity of nature, faithfulness in love, and timidity, the

women of higher class having a certain amount of spirit and

brilliance, but being triumphed over in natters of the heart.

$ho mechanical plan of the novel, while

not the same in his varied works, is generally adhered to after

this fashion: The story proceeds very slowly until the full tore® ot the environment hno taJcon poaaeaaion of tko mind; pasalon develop®, in v M c h the characters cone into conflict; a period of oalnouD etillness and pause holds the reader in breathless suspense, until at the last, with rapid crescendo movement, the play of life moves on to the triumph of right or of wrong, the action closes in a sweet moment of solemnity, which manifests a deep eenee of pity for the workings of destiny.

there is no courting of popular approval. no mutilation of thought to fit public preference, in the work® of thomaa Hardy. In fact, the general vie? which ho took of life proved a hindrance to his popularity. His novels are notable for their note of revolt. Toss and Jude arc both left to the reader as a picture of guiltless heroine and hero "more sinned against than sinning*" Sven that delightfully pastoral novel,

Ear from the Kaddln# Crowd, espressos hi® sponsoring of revolt.

Speaking of the unreason of accepted morality he says:

"George's son (a dog) was taken and tragically Shot... another instance of the untoward fate which so often attends dog® and other philosophers who follow out a train of reasoning to its logical conclusion and attempt per­ fectly consistent conduct in a world made up largely of compromise*"

Jude is full of epigraraatio comments on conventionalities and exhibitions of society:

"She social moulds civilization fits us into have no more relation to our actual shapes than the conventional shapes of the constellations have to the real star patterns•"2

""Far from the l&aaiir: Crowd. Chapter 29* 2 Jude the Obscure. Part II. Chapter 6. Then a little later:

"Cruelty is the lav/ pervading all nature and society, and vre can't got out or it if vro w o l d * ” 1

®ien in the words of Hardy himnolf:

"To indulgo one’s ingtinotlvo and uncontrolled ccneo of Juetloe and right was not, ho had found, permitted with impunity in an old civilisation like ours; it was necessary to act under an acquired and artificial sens® of comfort and honor, and to let loving-kindness take care of itself*" 2

The very old and very grave truths which

Hardy presents in these novels are treated with severity of thought and stylo* The deep solemnity of the woods and fields, and the great throbbing passions of men, while they leave us with a great pity, leave us, also, with greater love*

Think what we may of tho rationality and truth of hie philosophy, v/o can hardly refuse praise to a man who deplete with such power "the turns and movements of tho human heart*" 1

1 **■ Judo the Obscure* j?art II* Chapter 7*

Jude the Obscure* Part III* Chapter 7, -4*-

C H A P m III

5HK LYniCISg

T/hcn Hardy* o fir at voluno of voroo, the

Y/oaaox Poems, m s published, they m r o looked upon by the pah- X 11c as experiments in a elf-entertainment indulged in at the whimsical fancy of an artist. S M a opinion was strengthened

since Hardy acted as his own illuatrator, combining art with

his poetry. This publication, while it marked the beginning of

his poetical books, did not mark the beginning of his poetical

career* It did, however, practically close his work as a

novelist, (It mast be kept in mind that t&o poems contained

in this volume wore, scarcely without exception, written before

the novels, and during his period of self-experiment which led

into the adoption of a prose medium),

Hany reasons have boon given for his

definite turning to the publication and writing of poetry,

the most current being that he was disheartened by the adverse

and hysterical criticism poured upon Jude. An interesting

comment on the situation may bo found in Ihx 3ecrbohmfo clever

Burlesque on The Dynasts:

"Recording Angol (In answer to the Spirit Sinister) too moment. (Turns tho leaves) Hardy, Thomas novelist. Author of The YToodlanders Far from the lidding Crowd The Trompet-Hajor Terns of the D ’Urberwillee, et cetera Etcetera. In 1896 Jude the Obscure was published, and a few -44-

-r Hasty reviewers, having to supply A oolurm for the day or publication Filled out their space by saying that Shore were Several passages that might have been Omitted, with advantage. Hr. Hardy Saw that, if that wore so, well, then, of course. Obviously the only thing to do was to write no more novels, and forthwith Applied himself to drama and to us." 1.

Mr. Boerbohm himself, however, believes this opinion to bo dis­ tinctly unfair to Mr. Hardy, and says elsewhere:

"So strong an engine as Mr. Hardy rushes strai^it on, despite them, never so little jarred by them, and stops not for lack of inward steam. I5r. Hardy v/rites no more novels because ho has no more novels to write." %

It seems more obvious, however, that Hardy felt that, having indulged the public for twenty-five years by using the most easily comprehensible method of approach, he could now indulge himself in the form of art toward which hie ambitions had long pointed for mastery.

Whatever his reasons for change of medium may have been, wo can say confidently that the spirit -searchings of the young man were ripened at this later period into definite

T : Beerbohm, Max: Susouahela to the Dynasts — Opening Scene, 2 Quoted from Max Beerbohm by Brnest Brenncokc in The Life of Thomas Hardy. Chapter 8, p. 191.

The references to all poems heroin listed is to collected Poems of Thomas Hardy, edited by MacMillan Company, hew York, eomrlotiona* Lot us tost this statomont by turning to tho examination of his earlier lyrics to aeo xvliat v/ere tho ripen­ ing opinions of thorns Hardy as a boy. His first sonnets written early in the architectural period have never boon published in any form, although, at this later date, and since hie death, rumors of their collection are abroad. A few scattering lyrics wore accepted fcgr publishers from time to time, but with these we do not care to linger, for none of them point to the genuine spiritual grasp that later became so lasting and pronounced#

In 1862, after dropping his architectural work and while living In the quiet Bayswator, ho renewed his experimentation with verse# Those wore later, after his last novel, collected in Woo sex Poems. They show a self-conscious but altogether natural art# Amabel, his first poem of lasting worth, was written in 1865. It shows some aspects of the

Ylotorianism which Hardy later frees himself of# Ur. Ernest

Brennocke calls attention tc the Temnysonian influence shown in the iterated name of "Amabel" and in its refrain# But he goes on to nay that these resemblances seem to be so superfi­ cial as to be almost negligible, for under tho sentimentality of the poem is to be found a "strong dash of Hardy."

In 1866, five years before the publication of the first novel, Han, the first poetry which expressed the tone of the author *s lator work, was written# It was cm artistic product of real beauty and value# The malignity of ohanco— "Tho blina. God— ‘Circum8tanoon oouplcQ. with deterministic views, gave it groat significance in the light of Hardy*o lator novel and dram*

Although it is impossible for Hardy to have known at this early timo Schopenhauer* a theory, ho has oppressed a "typically Schopenhauorian idea" that chance is the manlfos- tation of destiny. Hotioo the expression of tiieee lines;

"How arrives it joy lies slain And why unblooms the boot hope over sows? Grass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain. And dicing (Dime for gladness easts a moan."

We have here, too, a hint of the First Principle which underlies the world of phenomena, as a foreshadowing of the "Immanent

Will" which dominates The Dynasts. That he believes it to be a "vast, blind, impersonality" is shown in lines from tho same pom:

"If but some vengeful God would call to mo From up tho sky, and laugh: "Thou suffering thing, Know that thy sorrow is my ecotacy. That thy lovo,s loss is my hate's profiting!"

"Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die, Steeled by tho sense of ire unmerited; Half-eased, too, that a Powerfuller than I Had willed and meted mo the tears I shed." 1^

Another poem of tho year which marks the largeness of his world view and which points to The Dynasts

is "In Vision I Roamed." It Is the expression of a fancied

experience in the "Monstrous Dome," Here he is cased of the

1 Wossox Dooms: "Hap." Page 7. pain ol* separation from a kindred spirit; this si ok grief at earthly separation:

"Grew pleasant thankfulness that you were near, $ho might have been, set on some outstep sphere, Leoo than a want to me, as day by day I lived unaware, unoaring all that lay Looked in that Gnivoroo taciturn and drear.” £

It is the poet’s first Journey into the "gh&st heights of sky"—

the unknown depth® of the universe.

The name air of youthful disillusionment oommon to his early versos, is found in "A Young Man’s Epigram

on Existence,” which, though written early, was included in

Time's Lau^hlngstockq and published in 1910. Life, he says, is

"A senseless school where we must give Our lives, that wo nay learn to live! A dolt is ho who memorises ? Loosens that leave no time for prises.” ~

The author’s shrinking from love, as the great tormentor of man, was another Sohopenhauerian principle which Hardy brought out in "Revulsion.” He prays;

"So may I live, no Junotive law fulfilling And my hearts table hear no woman’s name*" £

The last poem which can be definitely in­

cluded in this early experimentation period is a pure lyric,

"The Minutes Before Meeting*" In its amorous and ecstatic

Wessex Poems: "In Vision I Roamed.” Page 7*

Timers laughlngatooko: "Young Man’s Epigram on Existence.”

Wessex Poems: "Revulsion." Pago 11,

Moments of Vision: "The Minutes Before Mooting." Page 219. -48

tone it seona to eccpreso kinehlp with # m t brilliant oreative period, the Elisabethan. Yet tho cano coneral realistic trend of hie former lyrics poraoatos this*

Of hio earlier poems, only one atanda out as an intense and idealistic revelation or spirituality; it shows itself to be the work of a young man who has felt, ecc- perienoed, and observed* Shortly after Jlardy left London to reside at Weymouth he wrote "At a Seaside Town in 1869," which seems to reveal the spiritual Hardy:

"I went and stood outside myself. Spelled tho dark sky And ship-lights nigh. And grumbling winds that passed thereby.

And next inside myself I looked And there, above All, shone my Love, that nothing matched the image of*

But so it ohanoed, without myself I had to look, And then I took More heed of what I had long forsook.

Tho boats, the sands, the esplanade, Tho laughing crowd; Light-hearted, loud Greetings from some not ill-endowed;

Still, when at night I drew inside Forward oho oamo. Sad, but tho same As when I first had 3aiown her name.

Then rose a time when, as by force Outwardly wooed By contacts crude. Her image in abeyance stood.*..*.. At last I oaid: Thio outoldc life Shall not tnduro; I'll aeok tho pure Shought-'irorld, and bask in her allure,

% Golf again I crept within, Soamod with keen caro Bie temple where She'd ohone, but could not find her there.

I nought and sought. But 0 her soul Has not einoo throvm Upon my own , One Bcami Yea, she is gone, is gone.” —

©ils is the espreasion of more than a fleeting fancy; it shows a train of thought In development for years,

The same world and self vision is indioated

’ ' n in another of these early poems, "In Vision I Roamed," ~ parts of which were quoted above. Oppressed by the sense of limitation of time and space, the thought of the young poet ventures into the vast, unknown depths of tho Universe, finding there a groat treasured unknown, "looked in that IMverse taciturn— and drear," Once having taken his place on that

Uhiverse, he finds that in Infinity all distances vanish and

"Any spot on our own Earth seems Home,"

Beside being the expression of Hhrdy'a

spirituality, the poem shows the first instance when sense, rather than sound, was prevalent. In almost all of his early work wo ooo the opposing tendency, away from sense, to sound.

I ------— :— — ------Moments of Vision: "At a Seaside Town in 1869," Page 469. a *"* Wessex Poems: "In Vision I Roamed,* Page 7, -50

Hi® pootieal language i® ximmlly that of natural, unaffected, speech, with a gift of memorable and, at times, epigrammatic utterance# The dramatic effect of his poetry is heightened by the absolute detachment of tho author from his subjects His hard, clear express!

*un" is not noticeable, because of their exact appropriateness, until tho reader becomes well used to the rhythm of the Hardy verses; it is then that the feeling of unusualness becomes consolous and noticeable.

2?hat he regarded the English language as a flexible usable medium that had not become rigid, fixed, and stereo-typed is manifested in M e conversation with William

Archer* We are fortunate in possessing his exact words upon the subject:

*1 have no sympathy with the criticism that would treat English as a dead language— a thing crystallized at an arbitrarily selected stage of its ecdotenoe, and bidden to forget that it has a past and deny that it has a future# Purism, whether in grammar or vocabulary, always means ignorance# language was made before grammar, . not grammar before language# And as for the English vocabulary, purists seem to ignore the lessons of history and ooomon sense." JL While his earlier sonnets were smooth and liquid, being generally regular in meter, wo can see already traces of liberties that foreshadow tho technical advancement of hlo later work. We see frequent displacement of accent.

~ Quoted from Brcnnecke^ The Life of Thomas Hardy, page 139. broken line®, and inotanoee oi* nynoopation» In hie poetry, ao a x7hole, the nrualoal offoot may bo sensed, but it is never intruded as the primary purpose of the tsootpoeition* This in view of the fact stated earlier that his experimental poetry showed the opposite tendeneleo.

In both M s early and later periods his oholee of subject matter evidences a heroic and honest search for the truth, and a refusal of any conclusion hot derived from the facts of llfo*

It is to be observed that the poems of

1865-1870 present a strongly °Hardyan attitude" toward the world. He has explored the Universe and found it lawless; the

Higher Power he has found to be unconscious, indifferent, even malignant. Having experienced lifors emotions, he finds that goodness is a transitory thing, and evil a snare.

We have observed, as weU, that the in­ tellectual basis for the novels is to be found in embryo and in much more condensed and characteristic form in the early poetry. line, Chance, Destiny, Circumstance, and Pity have become recognisable ao the very essence of the thought which later expanded into The Dynasts.

With the publication of the Wessex Poems, people began to realize that, no matter what their desires,

Hr. Hardy’s desires were to write poetry, and if they wore to read M m , they must read M s verse. Many stopped reading M m entirely, but many others realizing that when they had read M e novela 'they had boon reading poetry, turned, eagerly to M s .. verse# ...... • . .. . .

So attempt will be made hereafter at a

definite chronology of the individual poems, for to do so would

bo futile as well as impossible* ibcoept for an increasing sure­

ness of touch and an increasing artistry; few of the poems

definitely belong to one year or the next* Mr* Hardy took m r e

to date very few of M s later productions* The objectives in

both his experimental and his later periods were substantially

the same, the latter showing them with more lucidity and clear­

ness*

A general characterization of each of his

volumes will show his variety of subject, his pMloaopMes, and

his emotional set. Poems of the Past and Present succeeded

M s Wessex Poems* Although it contained many of M e earlier

experimental lyrics, its chief content is the poems of the

Boer War and the tales of M s Italian pilgrimages* It is a

book full of observations and deductions from M s own experiences

The Boer War. he views from London, Southwark, and Wessex,

lie does not fail to b o o the eternal plcturesquaness of the

military parade* We hear the tramp of the armies through the

rain and mud, sec the wives and sweethearts trudging at their

sides, stand with the crowds at the war-office and peruse the

bulletins, go to the grave of the soldier, endure the joy of

meeting, and the anguish of parting. The emotional reaction -DB

of Mr. Hardy is voided in the tragic quality of events* Ho longs for the time when the spirit or loving kindness shall have become stronger than imperialism, when the growth of oonsoiousneas in tho "all-pervading Immanent Will" will have brought about a disinterest in the art and method of war. Ihis feeling is best seen in the poem which forms the last or the

Boor-War poems — the "Sick God:"

."let men rejoice, let men deplore, Tho lurid Deity of heretofore Sueoumbs to one of saner nod; ^ % e Battle-God is God no more." —

The simple dignity and rhythmical language of his later works is manifest In "Drummer Hodge," a poem which far exceeds in spirit tho well-known imperialistic poems of Kipling: * \ "They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest ttoooffined — just as found: His landmark is a kopje-crest That breaks tho veldt around: And foreign constellations rest saoh night above his mound.

Young Hodge tho Drummer never knew— Fresh from his Wessex home— The meaning of the broad Karod, The Bush, the dusty loam. And why uprose, to nightly view Strange stars amid the gleam.

Yet portion of that unknown plain Will Hodge forever be, His homely northern breast and brain Grow to some Southern tree, And strange-eyed constellations reign Hie stars eternally." Z

~j?oeraa of the Past and Present: "The Sick Battle-God," page 88. Is. roams of the Past and Present: "Drummer Hodge," page 83. la 1909 Tines* Lau^hlnratooks appeared; it is notable for the country songs and the lovo lyrloa*

T/o ooe here, too, ploturos of the country musicians of Weooez, who played a subordinate but altogether charming part in Hardy's

early childhood# But, above all* we have in this and the suc­ ceeding lyrical volumes the definite growth of his metaphysical - ’ - ' • ■ ■ > / ideas. There is tho intense and depressing attitude of mental Y gloom in them all, but instead of the ultimate fatalism shown

In the novels we have a suggested gleam of hope that points forward to a better eventuality than eternal misery, notice

the somberly beautiful lament of Tarty South, quoted above and

contrast with it these lines from "Her Immortality,n the lament of a poet for his belovedi

nA shade but in its mindful ones Has immortality; By living, me you keep alive, By dying you slay me.

In you resides my single power Of sweet continuance here; On your fidelity I count ^ Through many a coming year.n —

While Marty South shows that hopes or future life are in vain

and laments the fact that she may keep her lover only in her

mind during her lifetime, the poet suggests that there is a

realm of Shade in which the spirits of the dead exist in con­

junction with their existence in the mind of their mortal friends.

T------— Wessex Poems: "Her Immortality," page 48. -8 5 -

idea is brought out with equal power in "The Traneform- tion" and "The ?,hs3cod Ihoo*" i

Another line of thought, entirely independ­ ent of this, and indicating ultimate hope la that of re-estab­ lishment through a growth or consciousness of the "Immanent

Will*0 This will not bo touched upon at this instane®, since it forms a part of the argument in M o cosmic philosophy.

2ven though Hardy*s novels have expressed his determinism in much more concentrated form, let us say that they do not express M s complete pMlosophy* There is more beauty of language, more fineness of phrase, more eloquence in the expression of M s fatalism, but M s ultimate hope and thus his complete philosophy is not found in the novels. For this we must turn to the lyrics* And for its final expression, to his masterpiece, % e Dynasts.

~ "The I'askod Face, ° page 46. •56

CEAPfSR IV.

m'£ PHILOtjQPIIKR

Baaed upon a phraeo in tiie liacniiicau.

Hardy1o otupandoua mental drama expresses M o ultimate thought of the Universe.

As. compared with Tho Dynasto. the philosophy of both novels and lyrios-is of relative unimportance• & e elements composing this gigantic master work have boon traced, in their embryonic stage in the early poems, in their partial and concentrated form in the novels, and in their more e©finite entirety in the later poems# But in She Dynasts alone is to be found the concentrated force of those world-ideas.

Thomas Hardy brooded on the mysteries of life, the universe, the validity of the moral law, and the general riddle of existence# The personified spiritual essences governed the panorama of the world, making their influences felt on the human puppets below. Ho elevates the reader to the sublime sphere of imagination where the elemental forces of the universe seem close about him; ho is at home in the

"Chest heights" of sky; he is actuated by keen pity for the wretchedness of humanity; and ho is overwhelmed by the fear of the unknown and the unknowable#

We can not fail to realise that throughout his entire literary career Hardy has drawn from a definitely 67

ooneistent world-view* Hie first step was the idealistic viev/ of the world expressed in "In Vision I Roamod," "In a Seashore

Town," and in "Hap." With more concentrated force, but less directness, he shows these ideas in "A Pair of Blue ityea," when Knight muses:

"Such occasions as these compel us to roam outside out solve s, far away from the fragile, frame wo live in, and to expand till our perception grows so vast that our physical reality bear® no sort of proportion to it." 1,

A nearer approach to the same viewpoint was already pointed out in the Wessex Talest Judo the Obscure. Toss of tho D'Urber- vlllea. and The Woodlandera. but not until wo read Tho D:/msts do we have the key to his understanding of the world. Without understanding Hardy1o parallelism with Schopenhauer, it is as impossible to "ooao to grips" with tho intellectual content of M b works as it is to view his art without pointing out the underlying dooiro for literary oreativenoas. Like Schopen­ hauer he bases his views on the fundamental conception of the

Will, which is the foundation for M s metaphysical life* m e n wo speak, from time to time, of "Hardy*® philosophy" let tto bear in mind that by this term v/o mean "the prevailing colour and composition of the screen through wM o h he viewed the world,"

Hardy himself would be the first to object to the use of the word "philosophy" as applied to M s impressions of tho world.

In the preface to The Dynasts he refers to the comments of

T " A Pair of Blue Eves. Chapter 23. -5* hio celestial spirits:

"Their doctrines," he writes "are advanced with but little eye to a systematized philosophy warranted to lift 'the burden of the mystery* of this unintelli­ gible world." 1

Without a brief account of the philosophical parallelism of Hardy and Schopenhauer wo shall not be able to take the right perspective of his cosmic ideas as personified in the "Immanent Will*" Let us consider to what extent it was parallel, why they are classed together, and whether both are pessimists and look at life through distorted lenses*

Even though both may look upon the dark side of things and see only "the.hole in the doughnut," — it is not sufficient reason for elassing the two together. Although both had been pessimist®, pessimism is not a new thing and there are numbers of pessimists with whom Hardy might have been com­ pared. Why, then, must the two be considered together? Be­ cause in tho ono fundamental conception of the W i n they wore alike. This does not imply that their philosophical methods were tho same; they wore not* Hardy, v M l e acquiring an inti­ mate knowledge of philosophical problems, was primarily con­ cerned in the clothing of them# Schopenhauer, while having a keen appreciation for beauty and art, was interested in tho ideas themselves*

- The Dynasts. Vol. I. Preface* £ Garwood, S. J,: Hardy. Page 16* Sohopenbanop believed, with Kant, that man

had no objeetive knowledge or the world, tout that it m s present

to his mind only as a "phenomenon of oonmoioume®#*" He was

aware that the earth, the m m , the son, was not known to man,

except as he knew the eye that caw it, the hand that touohod it*

Hardy, on tiio other hand, as has boon ob­

served in "In Vision I Roamed," recognized a world of factual

experience. An escape from this empirical world forms the cen­

tral theme of crash of his poetry and prose, as wo have seen

in "Hap," fees, Jude, and The V/oodlandors, It is particularly

well expressed in "For Life I Had Hover Cared Greatly:"

"And so, the rough highway forgetting, I paoe hill and dale Regarding the sky, Regarding the vision on high. And thus, reillumined, have no humor for lotting % pilgrimage fail," 1

Likewise in "The Dream Follower" we are made aware of a real'

and ideal universe and the great gulf between them.

What is this empirical world of Hardy's?

The only key to our knowledge of it lies in the recognition

body is merely an "Objectified Will"— a will become idea.

Will alone is indefinable, for it can hever become the object I

I ' Momenta of Vision: "For Life I Had Hever Cared." Page 506. of perception* but though not perceptible it io the fundamen­ tal essence of every phenomenon in the iMverse*

Boforo wo look at the attribntea of thia Immanent .Will ao objectified, in his work, let uo trace the pro- greso of the aevelopmont of this ftmdmnontal will, ona aee how it wan czproased. in hia earlier writings.

His first conception of the causality of the Universe was Chance. Botloe the early manifestation of this principle in "Hap," above mentioned. Time and Chance were together classed ao "Tho purblind Doomators#" The same idea, though less definitely and directly stated, is found in A Pair of Blue Kvos. Hero the author observes:

"Strange conjunctions of circumstance, particularly those of a trivial everyday kind, are so frequent in ’ ordinary life, that we grow used to their unaccountable- ness, and fox^et the question whether the very long odds against such justaposltlon is not almost a disproof or its being a matter of chance at all." 1

Time, the agent of Chaneo, suffers many ironies at the hand of

Hardy. In the novel above mentioned, he speaks of it ao

"Tino, the Cynic," while in Desperate Remodios it becomes

"Time, the Improver." Gradually blind Chance, or Circumstance, grows into the fatalism so well portrayed by the Wessex rustics who believe that all things "go by destiny," ao was shown in some detail in the section dealing with the novels. In a

Pair of Blue Eves the Chanoe-CiroxuMtanoe-Pestiny doctrine io

A Pair of Blue ayes. Chapter 10. -61-

well oxpreeood in ounmlativo effect in the delineation of

Knight as he clings to the taro face of the almost peipendlo-

ular rock* She author says:

"We are mostly accustomed to look upon all opposition which ie not otherwise oxplainatlo as that of the stolid. Inexorable hand of indifforcnco, which wears out the patience more than tho strength. Hero, at any rate....* it was a cosmic agency, active, lashing, eager for con­ quest, not as insensate standing in tho way." 1

Foreshadows of t h e .Immanent Will later

found in The Dynasts are in several of tho novels. It is to

be noted, however, that In neither the lyrics nor the novels,

is the outer nature and human personality so well united as

in Tho Dynasts. We notice passages from Dcancrato Remedies

in which nature and human nature approach union;

"The gentle sounds around them from the hills, the plains, the distant town, the adjacent shore, the water heaving at their side, the kiss, and the long kiss, were all tmany a voice of one delight1 and in union with each other." 28

And again; "aaoh and all wore alike in the one respect, that they followed a solitary trail like the unwoven threads which form a banner, and all were equally unconscious of the significant whole they collectively showed forth." 3

Other expressions of the oneness of nature and personality are

to bo found In The Trumpet Kaior. A Pair of Blue fores, and

Ear frofti the Eaddin# Crowd. In the latter the tone of fatalism

1 A Fair of Blue are®. Chapter 82.

"" Desperate Remedies. Chapter 3. 8 Desperate Remedies. Chapter 16. f seemo to toe illuoineA by thin numation of all Ihe material and. metaphyeloal XMvorse. The twilling stare aeem to toe

"tout throbs or one body timed toy a oomnxm puloo."— nature- personality han a moat memorable sotting in to® Sgtton Heath of Tlie Return of the Hatlvo* Hero In the first chapter v/o are Introduced to too principal character of the story — toe

Heath itself. Throughout the book nature controls Time and

Chanoe; the Heath itself Is alive with too mighty forces that play upon it* An Euataoia Vye walked along its gloomy paths it seemed to her that oho was one with her surroundingst

"Skirting the pool she followed the path toward Ralnbarrow, occasionally stumbling over twisted furze- roots, tufts of rushes, or cosing lumps of fleshy fauna, which at this season lay scattered about the heath like the rotten liver and lungs of some colossal animal.... Euataoia at length reached the Ralnbarrow, and stood still there to think. Hover was liarmony more perfect between the Chaos of her mind and the Chaos of the world without*" 2J

Even inanimate things are invested with human attributes as in "Interlopers of the Knap" when toe breeze brings "a snore . from the wood as if Skrymer the Giant were sleeping there," ~ * and in Tro on a Tower, a cottage with its feoblo light appears to a traveller as "a one-eyed creature watching him from an ambush." —

Far from the Kaddinc Csaem* Chapter 2* 2 Return of tho native. Book T. Chapter 7. 3 Wessex Uhloo: "Interlopers of the Knap." Chapter 1.

Two on a Tower. Chapter 3. Although in the novela, the fooling of unit^ of nature and personality is uppermost, there seems to he, too, a fatalistic idea of Homesis, driving on the tra­ gi© course of events in the lives of the characters. From the time Bathsheba sends the valentine to Baldwood until the night on VThleh she opens Fanny Robin’s casket, she receives Mburn­ ing for burning; wound for wound; strife for strife." — In

The Return of the native Euataola feels that she is the victim of a blind destiny beyond her control. The fatalism, however, in thin novel as in them all is merely a development of the retributive-Justice doctrine of the Old Testament, and Fate is considered as Heaven or Providence, thus carrying his world ideas into the realm of religion rather than philosophic con­ cept. The Woodlanders. perhaps more than the other, expresses a metaphysical life, which shows that M s instinctive, un­ conscious fatalism was at last approacMng the stage of the philosopMo artist. Sven here he did not succeed in writing his idealism with Time, Circumstance, Chance, Destiny, Fate,

Determinism, and Hature. Only one instance of the foreshadowing of the Immanent Will as the union of all phenomena may be noted:

"Hardly anything could bo more isolated, or more self-contained than the life of these two walking here.... And yet, looked at in a certain way, their lonely courses formed no detachment of design at all, but were part of the pattern in the great web of human doings then weaving in both hemispheres, from the White Sea to Cape Horn." 2

Far from the Faddinr Crowd. Chapter 45.

The Woodlanders. Chapter 3* -54-

We ©an thus trace throngh the novolo, vrlth many overlappingo of idea and muoh lack of oonoistonoy, the growing world-view through th® naturo of Chance and Ito allies Time, Ctroim- stano®, Fato, Haturo, Providcnop, Bomosis and, finally, an approach to the Immanent Will*

More directly and leus vaguely can bo seen emerging from hia lyrics th® notion of metaphysical idealism.

Just before Jude was written and while it was talcing simp® in his mind, he wroto a short lyric in which "Ho Wonders About

Himself,"

"Part is mine of tho general will. Cannot my share in the sum of sources Bend a digit tho poise of fores®, And a fair desire fulfil?" 1

About eight years later (1901) he published a poem that is a full and clear expression of the high lights of Tho Dynasts*

For the first time wo see the gleam of optimism which is later

to colour his drab world:

"long have I framed weak phantasies of The®, 0 Wilier, masked and dumb1 Who makost life become*— As though by labouring all-utiknowingly, Like one whom reveries numb.

How much of oonaolousness informs Thy will Thy biddings, as if blind. Of death-inducing kind, nought shows to us ephemeral ones who fill But momenta in Thy mind*

I Momenta of Vision: "lie Wonders about Himself*" Page 479* Perhaps Thy ancient rote-restricted rays Thy ripening rule transcends; That listless effort tends To grow percipient with advance of days, A M with pereipienee mend®*

For in unwanted purlieu, far and nigh At while® or short or long, Fay be discerned a Wrong Hying as of self-slaughter; whereat I Would raise ay voioe in song*" 1.

To form some idea of his growth in knowledge and expression

in his poetry contrast this poem with that above quoted scene with Sustaoia ?ye in The Return of The native. Then for further

comparison look at the first scene of The Dynasts in which the

"Anatomy of the Will"is for the first time visualiseds

"Spirit of the Years (to the Spirit of the Pities). As key-scene of the whole I first lay bare The will-wobs of thy fearful questioning.

See, then, and learn, ere my power pass again.

(Spirit of the Pities)

Amid this seen® of bodies substantive Strange waves I sight like winds grown visible. Which bear men's forms on their innuzaerous coils, Twining and serpentining round and through Also retracing threads like gossamers— Sxoept in being irresisteble— V/hioh coaplioate with some, and balance all.I

I ------Poems of Past and Present. Page 171# (Spirit of the Years)

Those arc the Prime volitions*— fibrlle, relne, Will-tissues* nerves, and pulses of the Cause, Tliat heave throughout the earth's coasooiture; Their sum is like the lohate of a Brain Evolving always that it wots not of* A brain whose whole connotes the Everywhere, And whoso procedure may but be discerned By phantom eyes liko ours; the while unguised Of those it stirs, who (even as ye do) dream Their motions free* their orderings supreme: Each life apart from etxch, with power to mate Its own days* measures; balanced, self-complete; Though they subsist but atoms of the One labouring through all, divisible from none; But this no farther now* Deem yet man's deeds self-done,n 1

Perhaps the strongest and most obvious link in the chain of Schopenhauer * o philosophy is the One Will which manifests its power throughout the Universe and forms the bond of unity for all things* Although the Will forme the , basis for all things it is forever indivisible. It is re­ vealed as well in one oak tree as in a million of them* There is not a smaller part in the tree and a larger part in the man, for the relationship of a part and its whole belongs only to

Space and ceases to have moaning when we go beyond this element.

There is no place in the world for religion, as the orthodox speak of the term* Religion, for Schopenhauer, has a different connotation. Tho world is not a result, crea­ tion, or effect of any power outside it* nothing is discoverable

T The Bvaasts* Vol. I. Foreeeene, • 6 f •

beneath the raaae of things cocoopt tho energy of the Immanent

Will, Tho origin of philosophy# or religion (as oomo \tou14 call it) is in the innate neeessity of man. This meea is sharpened and strengthened in the presence of birth, death, and the misery of life, Tho deepest hold of religion lies in existence in some form after death and if the individual knew nothing of death or birth, if his life were endless and pain­ less there would be no neeessity for a God or Gods. Since its origin lies in the meeds of man, its entire value is in its ability to satisfy his metaphysical needs. Because man demands a faith in something higher than himself he should be taught to grasp tho theory of the Will which is within him, yet superior to him, above him, but not foreign to him. Thus wo seo that

Schopenhauer’s world-view is not material but idealist lo­ an idealistic monism.

These theories must be grasped in order to understand, the way in which Hardy’s universe expressed idealism.

Hardy, with Schopenhauer, believed in the Interior energy of the will. Both nature and human nature depended not upon the movement of some energy foreign to them, but on the energy with­ in them, which reminds us somewhat of the Hew Testament doc­ trine that "the spirit of God is within you," In explaining the Battle of Waterloo, says the Spirit of the Years:

“So hath the Urging Immanence used today His inadvertent might to field the fray," 1 1

1 The Dynasts. Vol. 3, let, VII, So. 8. -60-

Early in M o drama, Bio Bynasto, Hardy rolTora to the Will as the Weaver linking all together in its vast designs• In the After-Seen® he ooneludea by showing that Hapoleon was only a thread in the tapestry of events• Even before his birth the Will had woven "Its web in that Ajaocian womb," thus fitt- i ing the tyrant into the web of the Will.— This idea is not brought out in M s novels* wo have been able to trace only an approach to it in the transcendentalism of The Woodlandera.

It is, however, fairly well oppressed in a few of his poems.

Kan, as a puppet of the will, is perfectly orprossed. in "The

Subalterns."

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

"I would not freeze thee, shorn one," cried The Berth, "knew 1 but how To warm ay breath, to slack z^y stride; ,, But I am ruled as thou*"

"Tomorrow 1 attack thee, wight," Said Sickness. "Yet I swear I bear thy little ark no spite, But am bid enter there."

"Come Mgher, Son," I heard Death say; "I did not will a grave Should end thy pilgraaago to-day. But 1, too, am a slave!"

"Wo smiled upon each other then A M life to me had leas Of that fell look it wore ere when They owned their passlveness." 2£

1 ~~ Dynasts.» After-Scene, 2 Poems of Past and Present: "The Subalterns," page 110. -69

Again, in the nSleep-Worker” the Immanenoe of the Will is shoim, in that Haturo, God, and the Will are ono$

"When wilt thorn vroko, 0 Mother, m k o and see As one v/ho, hold in trance, has laboured long By vacant rate and prepossession strong— t The coils that thou hast wrought unwillingly.” —

Tho feeling that Mature is a part or the.vast wob of the will is an essential part of The Dynasts. Wo aro told that during the battle of Ulm

The creative Will, immanent in Mature and humanity, is the creative principle of career, world-movements, upheavals of dynasties and nations. When the Grand Army of France retreats

In tho relation of tho will to its parts we have a slight variation from the Schopenhauer tan philosophy.

Hardy looks upon separate lives as but atoms of the One, while

Schopenhauer believes that the Will is as much present in on® as in a dozen persons, Che great characters of Hardy’s Dynasts become mere mouthpieces of the Will. When Pitt is hailed as the saviour of England ho replies:

X The Dynasta. Vol.l. Act 4«So. 4. & Poems of Past and Present: "The Sleep Worker.” ist Fore-Seen®, i. Vol# 3, Act 7, So. 4. £ Vol. 2, Act 2, Sc. 7. -70-

nlo man has ever savea inglana, let me say; % Englanfl. has saved, herself, by her exertions.n —

The Spirit of the Years, In commenting upon Pitt’s "large last words11 says:

"So la’t ordained by That Which all ordains; For words were never winged with apter grace Or blent with happier choice of time and place, p To hold the imagination of this strenuous race." —

Hapoleoh, in explaining his overpowering ambition says that it Is

"Some force within me, baffling mine intent which harries me onward whether 1;will or no." 3

The best conception of the Will as an inherent force underlying all movements may be gained from • the following passage in the

> second volume of The Dynasts: j

"So doth: the Will objectify itself i In likeness of a sturdy people’s wrath, Whioh takes no count of the new trends of time, „ .. Trusting ebbed glory in a present need.

Uncertainly, by fits, the Will doth work In Brunswick's blood, their chief, as in themselves; It ramifies in streams that intermit And make their movement vague, old-fashioned slow. To foil the modern methods counterposedl"

Like all serious-minded men, Hardy is deeply

interested in religion. His views of the traditional claims

of religion are very like those of Schopenhauer. The Immanent

T The Bynasts. Vol. I, Aot V., So. V. 8 • • • * The Dynasts. Vol. I, Aot. V, Sc. V. 3 The Dynasts. Vol. 8, Act. I, So. 8. Will denies suoh a oysten of divine relation. Its greatest value of religion to man Id in its oonsolation and the escape it offers from a distressing world of suffering, a God he can not reconcile, in the face of human-suffering which io witnessed every day, Ban, himaolf, Days Hardy, is responsible for this creation of an unmoral deity, whom he believeo has created humanity and thus humanity's sufferings. Christianity as a world-religion was the subject of this agnostic's scorn:

"A local cult, called Christianity, Which the wild dramas of the wheeling spheres Include, with other such, in dim P&thetioal and brief parentheses, Beyond whose span, uninfluenced, unconcerned, The systems of the suns go sweeping on With all their many-mortalod planet train In mathomati© roll unceasing.w 1

But it is not because of Hardy's theories that the will tvao inherent, immanent, or indivisible that we are so deeply interested in his philosophy. Because he. believed the intellect to be entirely subservient to tho will, which in itself was an aimless factor, he has been called a pessimist, (later we shall see that aimless though it was, it was endowed with indestructibility).

Was Hardy u pessimist? If we believe that aimlessness of the Will io one with pessimism, then wo must say ho was. One does not have to read far in The Dynasts

T The dynasts. Vol. 1, Act* 1, So, 6. -72-

to gain the impression that all things are ruled, by some oapr&olouo, listless Will. It is an imeemseloms automatie

sense, "tltaweetlng why or whence.rt She "Turner of the Y/heol" is viewless, over weaving aimlessly the intricate web of

oxistones or happening......

"like a knitter drowsed whose fingers play in skilled unmindfulness." 1

This quotation taken from the Fore-Seene of The Dynasts is

eohoed in the After-Scene, when the Will is called a "loveless, hatelcos, dreaming, dark, dumb thing.” The Spirits Ironic

observe that the Will is a deft manipulator, artfully bringing

about the collapse of Austria,"but tho Chorus of Tears answers:

"Ah no; ah noI It is impossible as glacial m o w — Within the Great Unshaken These painted shapes awaken A lesser thrill than doth the gentle love Of Yonder ioe-oapped peak." B

Intellectual process is a phase of the

Will’s manifestation, but It weighs not its thought. It is

"tranced in its purpose to unkr.owingneos," ~ Toward the end

of The Dynasts the Spirits Ironic remark that - *

"The groping tentativeness of an Immanent Will Cannot bo asked to learn logic at tills time of day."

T ' - The Dnnasta: Fore-Scene.

“ The Dynasts: After-Scene. 3 The Dynasts: Vol. B, Act. 4, So. 5. •73-

To the Pities’ question —

"%'hy prompts tho Y/ill ao senseless shaped a thing?” The Spirit of tho Years replies —

"I have told thee that it works unwittingly as one possessed, not judging.M

And the Spirits Ironic comment —

“Of its doings if It knew What It does It would not doi Since it knows not, what far sons® Speeds Its spinnings in the Immense, Bone; a fixed foresightless dream Is its whole philosopher •“ 1

If the will is superior to intelligence

(superior to its parts) and utterly aimless and unconscious, as Hardy believes, and if there are no other attributes of this Immanence, then, ho is a pessimist. We have seen that he was a determiniot, and at times a fatalist, but was there* no ultimate hope? It is easy for the critic to stop at this conclusion, but what of the aestruetibility of the Will? If the Will is indestructible there must be an ultimate hope; if destructible life Is a business that does not cover costs:

“it is like poor china covered with a fine luster, its poor

quality can not be hidden long." We have already seen that

the Will is the Organizer, the Weaver, the Turner or the Wheel; it is the real essence of the world and or human beings, life

la only the Mirror of this Will, a showing forth or objecti­ fication of an abstract essence. Since life accompanies the

~ The Dynasts; Vol. 3, Act. 7, So. 8. f Will, or is a part of it, it m o t live as long as the Will / itself. The form vanishes while tho essence remains, so though the individual may perish, the Will remains. Schopen­ hauer cays that to think that tho real essence of man is anni­ hilated in death is as foolish as to infer that the spinner is dead because the spinning wheel has stopped moving. He adds that death only destroys tho allusion by which his conscious­ ness separates itself from the rest. I | The fact that a can, being endowed with large capacities for consciousness and suffering, must live out his life in a universe ruled by an unconscious and in­ different Will, is the basis for all of Hardy*s so-called pessimism. /Mortala suffer an unjust rate, as he shows in the following passage:

"But out of time the Mode and meriter That quickness sense in shapes whom, thou hast said, Heocssitatlon sways! A life there was Among the oelf-oamo frail ones— Sophocles Who visioned it too clearly, oven the while He dubbed the Will the "Gods," Truly he said, "Such gross injustice to their own creation Burdens the time.with mournfulness for us. And for themselves with shame." Things mechanised by coils and pivots sot to foreframed Would, in a thorough-sphered melodic rule, codes And governance of sweet consistency. Be ceased no pain, whose burnings would abide With That which holds responsibility, Or inexist."

This great pity for the "involuntary passengers on a dismal voyage" is portrayed in Teas or the D'Hrbervlllea. in Jude the Obscure, and in many of Hardy's lyrics. But in these there is no gleam of day; all is clouded with impenetrable darkness; all is in the end a tragio sunless panorama. And while their 75

fat® is loss terrible, being only partially understood, it reaches its moat intense tragedy in the lives of those fine­ grained characters such as Judo and Esther 5imo, It remains for The Dynasts to show us Hardy * o ultimate hope.

Hope seems to lie in one of three general paths: non-existenee, growth of consciousness of the Will, or a gradual improvement of life through the efforts of on- lightened men, Imbued with idealism.

It is with hope that Hardy looks forward

to non-existenee, a state in which the Will made manifest in

the individual becomes one with the Will which is the essence

of the universe. When Vilieneuve wishes to enter a blissful

state of non-existence, through suicide, the Spirit of Pities

comments:

"May hi a sad sunken soul merge into naught Meekly and gently as a breeze at eve." 1

Again, the Spirit of the Pities makes the statement that o "better than waking is sleep." — The Austrian princess who

is undisturbed by the coronation is

"Senseless of bustlings in her former house, lost to all count of crowns and bridairy." £

The second theory of possible ultimate

hope is found in the suggestion that universal harmony may

sometimes be established through a growing consciousness of

I The Dynasts: Voi. 1, Act. 5, Sc. 6. a The Dynasts: Vol. 2, Act 6, So. 5. 3 • The Dvnasts: Vol. 2, Act. 3, Sc. 6. 76 the Imanent Will. In the After-Scene the Pitleo argue that if men can grow to tmaerstemd the flux of time, they may eome day grow to understand the Will, to which they owe their w r y being. Their glorioua paean of hope is one of the high-water marks of this mighty work:

"But a stirring thrills tho air Like the sounds of joyanoe tlioro That the rages Of tho ages Shall be cancelled, and deliverance offered From the darts that wore. Consciousness the Will informing, till It fashion all things fair!" 1

The last line of thought which seems to point toward ultimate hope lies in the conscious, directed efforts of intelligent human beings. This, we of the present day can understand as the end and aim of all educational theories. The Pities remark that—

"The pale pathetic peoples still plod on Through hoodwinkings to light." %

Let us leave Hardy * 0 work for a moment to turn to his opinions as expressed in a conversation with 2Jr. William Archer. Here he expresses a practical philosophy which is anything but pessimistic:

"The world often coons to me, like a half-expressed, an ill-expressed idea....There may be consciousness, infinitely afar off* at the other end of phenomena, always striving to express itself, and always baffled and blunder­ ing, Just as the spirits seem to bo....l^y pessimism, if pessimism it bo, does not involve the assumption that 1

1 ------:------After-Scene. 2 The Dmasts: Vol. 3, Act. 4, So. 4. •??»

the world Is colag to the doge, and that Ahreaten is winning all along the lino. On the contrary, my prac­ tical philosophy is distinctly moliorlet* What are my booko but one plea against man’s inhumanity to man, to woman and to the lower animals... ,TJhatcvor tmf be the inherent good or evil of life, it is certain that men can make it much worse than it need be* When we have got rid of a thousand remediable ills, it will be time enough to determine whether the ill that is irremediable out­ weighs the good." 1

f Let us say, at least that Hardy believed ^ j in expressing tho unadulterated truth which case from his j exploration of reality*\ Shore is none of the sour cynicism I j about him that is so frequently found in the writings of de- I ; terminietie realists* Tho joy of braving life with an indomit- i able spirit, ready to take what comes with shoulders squared ; and head erect, seeing always the possibilities of betterment, ! is the picture given us of hapoleon. Could a pessimist have painted this? V/as there no splendid idealism in a man of this character?

The man who judged Hardy, as the following paragraph shows, knew little of M s depth®:

"Hardy holds tho idea....(that) Human beings are as corks on a stream of tendency, helpless and therefore hopeless in the grasp of an awful, non-moral Will which sways all tMngs, without rhyme, reason, or end. It strikes down hero and uplifts there, without regard to right or merit. Often it seems to bo malicious, impish In its clouting of man. The individual is nothing; we are as sunnudges, spavracd In sport and snapped up like flies by a voracious world# Men never attains. In the morning we dress for a feast, but die of hunger." a2 1

1------:------:----:— ------Heal Conversations — Wm* Archer. Quoted from Bio Ultimato 2 Hope. “* lewton, Joseph Fort, "Christ oh % d o n Heath." Christ. Cent*. Feb. 2, 1928* 78

And the author goes on to ahov his cuperficiality In hie story of Hardy tiy saying that "God should seek, though he does not deserve the forgiveness of man." His article ends in proving that the life of Joans Christ was apostrophised in the Chorus of the Pities in which they sing of joy in "Thee," The passage, as before partially quoted, runs like this:

"All shall fulfill their joy in Thee, In Thee abide eternally.R

Little did the author reckon that the Immanent, Unooneoioue

Will was the personified being apostrophised in those lines, for he says, "The Face of Jesus arose and shone, revealing a tenderness behind the terror and mercy in its mystery."

There was on ultimate hope, as has been shown, springing from the great pity and groat patience of

Hardy’s compassionate tenderness. It is shown most definitely and completely in The Dynasts, of which a contemporary has said:

"Even more than the finest among the tragic novels, the tragic poem is full of a great pity.....It cannot com­ fort* but it does better. Like all great tragedy, it Is "Eathartio," purging those who learn to love it, of meanness and impatience and self-pity. Like all great art it exalts and enlarges."

We have seen the parallelism of Hardy’s and Schopenhauer’o theories of the W i n and have traced the growth of Hardy1 a philosophy through his novels and poems to its fulfillment in The Dynasts. We have soon more direct pessimism in the novels than in the poetry and noted that there was little ultimate hope in the latter. In The Dynasts, while the deter­ ministic philosophy is well expressed, we boo a suggestion of -79

hope in the indeatruotibility of the Will. It has been noted that the Will is one and immanent, the source of life; autono­ mous, determining all; itself determined by nothing; unoonaeions, an automatic sense, "unmeetlng why or whence,n aimless, think­ ing yet not weighing its thoughts; and, at last, indestructible, giving hope of tho future existence of the individual will as a part of the transcendent Will*

These world-ideas, beautiful for their depth of transcendent Imagery, are best expressed in the first aoene of The Dynasts:

Shade of the Earth. What of the Immanent Will and Its designs?

Spirit of Years. It works unconsciously, as heretofore, Eternal artietries in Circumstance, Whose patterns, wrought by rapt aesthetic rote. Seem in themselves Its single listless aim, And not their consequence.

Chorus of the Pitios (aerial music) Still thus? Still thus? Ever unconscious1 An automatic sense TTnweeting why or whenoo? Thin be xhe inevitable, as of old. Although that so it be we dare not hold!

Spirit of the Years Hold what you lest, fond unbelieving Sprites, You cannot swerve the pulsion of the Byas, %ioh, thinking on, yet weighing not Its thought,, Uneheoks Its cloak-like laws. - 8 0 -

Spirit of the Pities. Why doth It b o and eo, and ever so. This vievrleea, voieelees T o m e r of the wheelf

Koet it is, nono tho loss, To hear in thought that though Its consolouaneso May ho estranged, engrooaod afar, or sealed, Sublimer shocks may wake Its watch snon?

Spirit of the Years. Bay. In tho Foretime, even to the germ of Being Nothing appears in shape to indicate That cognisance has marshalled things terrene, Or will (suoh is my thinking) in my span. Rather they show that, like a knitter drowsed, The Will has woven with an absent heed Since life first was; and ever will so weave.1' 1

1 The Dvnasts: Vol. 1, Act 1, So. 1. 81

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF WQBKS COHS8LT£D

1. Hardy, Thomao. Lbtiro oet of novels published in 1906. Harper and Brothers, New York.

Desperate Remedies (1871) tto&er the Greenwood Tree (1872) A Pair of Bluo Byoa (1873) Par from the Madding Crowd (1874) Bie HaM. of Sthelberta (1876) The Return of the Native (1876) The Trumpet Major (1880) A Loodleean (1881) Two on a Tower (1888) The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886) Tho Woodlandoro (1887) Wessex Tales (1888) Teas of the D'Urborvllles (1891) A Group of Noble Danes (1891) The Woll Boloved (1892) (Revised in 1897) Jude the Obseure (1895)

2. Hardy, Thomas. A Changed Man, The Waiting Supper, and other Tales, concluding with The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid. 1913. . Harper and Brother®.

3. Hardy, Thomas. Collected Poems, 1986. MacMillan and Go., Hew York, including: Wessex Poems (1898) Poems of the Past and Present (1901) Times Laughingstockc (1909) Satires of Circumstance (1914) Moments of Vision (1917) Late Lyrics and Earlier (1028)

4* Hardy, Thomas. The Dynasts (1904-1908). MacMillan and Co., Hew York, London. -6B-

CRITICAL ESSAYS

1. Beach, Joseph Warren, 1928, Technique of Thomas Hardy. University of Chicago Press, Chicago, III#

2. Brenneoke, Earnest B.,. Jr#, 1985. Life of Thomas Hardy# Oreenburgh PnJblishers, Inc., Hew York. 3# Brenneoke, Ernest a., Jr., 1984. Thomas HardyU TMverso. T.F.Unwin, Ltd#, London,

4# Caff in, Charles H#, 1913. Art for Life's Sake. Parang Company, Hew York.

5. Coniiffe, John W., 1924. l&glish Literature During the Last Half Century. The I/neKillan Co., He# York.

6. Follett, Helen Thomaa, 1918. Some Modern novelists, Appreolations and Estimates. Ii. Halt and Co., How York.

7. freeman, John, 1917. The Moderns. T homs Y. Crowell Co., Hew York,

8. Harper, Charles George, 1904. The Hardy Country, A,C.Black Co., London#

9. Johnson, .Lionel, 1894. The Art of Thomas Hardy. x. Matthews and J. Lane, London#

10. Raymond, Edward Thompson, 1921. Portraits of the Kinetics. T. F. Unwin, Ltd#, London#

11. Shell, Ann® McClure# Biographical end Critical Essays. Reproduced, in Earner's Library of the World's Best Literature, Yol. 12.

12# Sturgeon, Mary C,, 1919# Studies in Contemporary Poets• Dodd, Mead, and Co#, Hew York#

13. Symons, Arthur, 1916, Figures of Several Centuries. Constable and Co., London# PERIODICALS

1. Fletcher, John Gould. "Spirit of Thomas Hardy.M Yale Review, January, 192

2* Ford, Ford I'adox. "Thoms Hardy Obiit, January 11, 1923." Hew York.Times Book Reviews, Jan. 20, 1928.

3. Bison, John h . "Obsessions of Teas and, Judo." Horth American Review, Parch, 1928.

4. Hasson, Thomas H. "The Realists♦" World's Work, 1921-22 Volume 43.

5. Newton, Joseph Fort, "The Cliriot on i^don Heath." Christian Century, February 2, 1928.

6. Phelps, 7/illiam Lyons. "Hardy's Fifteen Hovels." Forum, Parch, 1928.

7. Rinehart, Hary Roberta. "Realism." The Bookman, 1982*83 Volume 56.

8. Roll!, Augustus. "The Heart of the Wessex Country." Horth American Review, Pay, 1923.

9. Villard, 0. "Thomas Hardy." The Ration, Jan. 25, 1928. 7 07 7 '