Works of Thomas Hardy discussion

HAP

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

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

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

By some scholarly consensus, Hap is the first poem Hardy ever composed. It dates to at least 1866, when Hardy was 26, but was not published until 1898, when it appeared in his first book of poems — Wessex Poems.

It is a sonnet, though the rhyme scheme differs slightly from the traditional Shakespearean sonnet. The first eight lines form the octave. The remaining six form the sestet.

It is a compact poem with essentially one consecutive train of thought — almost a long sentence, in effect. But it reaches conclusions, too. Note the first word in each stanza: If… Then… But.

Hap is another word for happenstance or chance. Crass Casualty can be taken as Bad Luck. When you read it, note that the sestet corrects the octave. Although an early poem, it ranks in my opinion as one of his best.

Great choice for this week thanks John! I think this must be one of his most formally structured poems :)

https://www.hardysociety.org/media/bi...

Click the link above for a glossary of terms in "Hap", and more analysis of them for those who wish it, from the Thomas Hardy Society.

Some have written that dicing Time is a play on the roll of a dice. I look at it differently. I see dicing as meaning that Time wears us down -- in effect, cuts us down.

I used to wonder if Blisses was a noun or verb.

I prefer it as a verb. I took it to mean that gladness blisses about as pain. In other words, it looks like gladness and acts like gladness, but it is just the opposite.

As John says, "Hap" means chance.

Thomas Hardy is always concerned with Fate, as he is here, I think. The commentary I linked to says:

"Hardy pictures Time as a gambler, throwing (or ‘cast’ing) the dice; he happens to have thrown a ‘moan’ and ‘pain’ but he could just as easily ‘readily’ have scattered ‘strown’ the dice in a way that produced ‘gladness’ and ‘blisses’"

I do think this is the correct interpretation of dice, given his preoccupation with Fate and Chance.

It's a sad, bitter - almost savage - poem, isn't it? Thomas Hardy is searching for an explanation of the chances which cause humans to suffer so much in life.

Thomas Hardy was still concerned with and writing about this theme 60 years later! He is always concerned with our inability to understand and control our fate. And here we see the poet's inability to understand the nature of his universe. It seems even more terrible because it feels so close and personal. The fact that it is written in the first person involves us directly in all his suffering and bewilderment.

The irony of choosing this highly structured form - it's a sonnet, as John says - is quite deliberate. Sonnets are often love poems, so he is heightening the effect of his gloom at being in the arms of Fate, by contrast.

Something I came across below. It is possible Hardy was referring to this poem, but he was probably also speaking to his larger views.

There is evidence that Hardy stressed to his critics that he was not replacing one source of cosmic oppression with another, and he was in fact quoted as saying that: “The world does not despise us; it only neglects us”.

I like the clear structure of stanzas beginning “if,” “then,” and so on. Hap refers to happenstance, fortune, and other things beyond our control. The first time I read this I thought it was about a guy named Hap. Randomness is always twisting itself around so that the good news coming suddenly twists and
Torques around to disaster.

When I started my class in college called Modern British Literature, we used the Oxford Anthology as our textbook. I believe it was edited by Harold Bloom and John Hollander.

The textbook was excellent and began with Hardy — just his poems, given they came out at the turn of the century. Hap was the first one and that was my introduction to Hardy.

Others here may be better in sensing meter than I am, but I do wonder if the meter changed slightly in the sestet. When I start reading But not so… it seems a little more jarring to me.

The octave has this almost spiritual rhythm and flow to it. The sestet seems more like the hard and sudden forces of nature.

As an fyi, I came across the book below. The book is set up with individual essays by poets on poems of the past. They discuss a poem in terms of why it moved them. I noted that of the poems selected, which numbered about 70 I think — Thomas Hardy made the list twice.

Answering Back: Living Poets Reply to the Poetry of the Past

In some ways the switch in tone that John mentions between the first 8 lines and the final 6 lines are very familiar in sonnets. The first 8 lies may set up an issue or a problem or a matter for reflection and the final 6 lines try to posit a solution.

I remember writing a paper about this poem in a college English class, but nothing about what I wrote (it was 50 years ago!) What strikes me now is how many people today would rather believe that bad things are coming from some conspiracy, secret society, or even aliens rather than admit that they just happen by chance.

I felt like the playing dice meaning fit with the verb "cast" - but the thing about poetry is there are multiple ways to interpret it and it's great to hear different ideas.

This certainly goes against traditional church thinking of the era. One view was that we can't understand the mysterious ways of God, but must remain faithful, as Job or Jesus did. Or the Calvinistic view that people are preordained for their fate. The only god referred to by Hardy is a lower case one. Hardy certainly does throw plenty of suffering at his characters. ( You could get very "meta" about how an author plays the role of God moving his characters around and making them suffer.)

Robin P wrote: "I remember writing a paper about this poem in a college English class, but nothing about what I wrote (it was 50 years ago!) What strikes me now is how many people today would rather believe that b..."

That’s a great analysis, Robin. I first read this poem 40 years ago — I believe my class was the fall of 1982. What strikes me now about it is that it seems written by a younger person, which it was. But I remember thinking back then that this poem was written by a wise old Thomas Hardy.

Hap may be short for happenstance. The cruel toss of dice by Time.

Curtis wrote: ""

Yes, happenstance for sure.

Natalie wrote: "In some ways the switch in tone that John mentions between the first 8 lines and the final 6 lines are very familiar in sonnets. The first 8 lies may set up an issue or a problem or a matter for re..."

I agree. I was wondering about the meter, but I think it is the same.

I think it is mostly iambic pentameter.

Natalie wrote: "I think it is mostly iambic pentameter."

I went through the poem out loud a few times, along with some counting, and came to that conclusion. Hardy experimented with different rhyme schemes throughout his poetic career, but mostly stuck to the same meter.

This is such a visual poem. I see those dicing purblind doomsters huddled over their doom-making.

I still really like the three part proposition:
If
Then
But not so

Hardy wrote many poems about solitude of various types. And also the theme of an invisible and malignant authoritative figure (dicing time) governing our lives.

The powerful lines: "How arrives it joy lies slain,
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?"

The word "unblooms" is unusual. And I know that Hardy has used "unhope" elsewhere. It works with the "If, Then, But not so" sequence.

There's a big difference between "unblooming" and a failure to bloom.

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

I can sense the sheer frustration Hardy felt. It seems such an intrinsic part of human nature to require answers. Why do these things happen? This innate need for understanding, that is born of a questioning mind, is the reason religion exists in all parts of the inhabited world.

Despite all the years lived, despite the wisdom accumulated in his life, Hardy was still concerned with this till the end. Despite being aware of the world's indifference, the acceptance of such a fact did not assuage his sadness. How can something that is indifferent be more powerful than he is? He who actively strives to be happy?