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New Blog: 'Dark' 19th Century History

Mr Bleak said:
Originally I wrote the post to share with a Thomas Hardy Fans group that I am in. The most probable reason that 'A Laodicean' is a neglected novel is because it is not particularly good. Sometimes the most straight forward explanation is the best one ! The fact that nobody seems to know how to pronounce the title doesn't help.
On the other hand one of my favourite Hardy novels -' A Pair of Blue Eyes' -seems sadly overlooked .
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Another interesting post on your blog.
 
Frideswide said:
I fear I am allergic to Hardy's novels having had Tess, Madding Crowd and Jude for O-level. I did enjoy writing a piece on the conditions of agricultural labourers and the spread of industialisation mind you.

His poetry is magnificent.

I must have a look at A Pair of Blue Eyes.
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I don't recall having to read Hardy for an exam. But being brought up in Dorset, read some Hardy starting with 'Far From The Madding Crowd' as a teenager. I have read and re-read a fair amount of Hardy's work in the last 2 years and rate a lot of his work very highly. Personally think that Hardy works best when he connects the tragedy of human life, particularly concerning individuals who defy social norms and fail, with the cycles of nature and the agricultural year. 'The Return of the Native' is my favourite. The only Hardy I gave up on was 'Under The Greenwood Tree', I just thought it was too silly and jolly.
 
Mr Bleak said:
I have read and re-read a fair amount of Hardy's work in the last 2 years and rate a lot of his work very highly.
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Definitely the poetry.

I liked the background and lore of the novels, I just wanted to shout to Tess that she should stop being such a total wazzock!
 
Despite the outdated style, this is still stirring and marvellous:

'The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus
sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set...

The mountains look on Marathon--
And Marathon looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dreamed that Greece might still be free;
For standing on the Persians' grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.

A king sat on the rocky brow
Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;
And ships, by thousands, lay below,
And men in nations--all were his!
He counted them at break of day--
And when the sun set, where were they?

And where are they? And where art thou?
My country? On thy voiceless shore
The heroic lay is tuneless now--
The heroic bosom beats no more!
And must thy lyre, so long divine,
Degenerate into hands like mine?

'Tis something, in the dearth of fame,
Though linked among a fettered race,
To feel at least a patriot's shame,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
For what is left the poet here?
For Greeks a blush--for Greece a tear....

Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
Our virgins dance beneath the shade--
I see their glorious black eyes shine;
But gazing on each glowing maid,
My own the burning teardrop laves,
To think such breasts must suckle slaves.

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing, save the waves and I,
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swanlike, let me sing and die:
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine--
Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!'

(Lord Byron)
 
@Steven . A magnificent poem indeed.

A favourite of mine from Lord Byron would be Canto 4,v 178 of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal "
 
I had the great privilege of hearing this read to me.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

But for some reason he didn't do verse three :rollingw:

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
 
Have just completed a blogpost about the rather odd 1873 novel by Wilkie Collins titled 'The New Magadalene ' : The story mainly concerns what we would now call identity theft and cat-fishing. Has the sensational lead female character who behaves in an outrageous fashion but the book seems to deteriorate into a morality tale, with plenty of social comment, which was not Collins's strongest point as a writer. But got some interesting themes...particularly the scene with a young British woman who volunteers as a nurse to help the French wounded during the Franco-Prussian war of 1870/1871.
https://bleakchesneywold.blogspot.com/2024/04/the-new-magdalene-by-wilkie-collins.html
 
Mr Bleak said:
Indeed, in my own life time....I was born 1961, have noticed changes. The idea of regular showering , clean socks and pants every day,frequent use of deoderant, was certainly not the case for many people who were about when I was young.
Found this BFI film about public wash houses in 1959 , last five minutes.
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Love that you can see the long gone ‘Three Sisters’ chimneys at the start of that clip.
 
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