A SEQUELULA TO “THE DYNASTS”
By:
November 29, 2022
A (pro- or anti-) science-, mathematics-, technology-, space-, apocalypse-, dehumanization-, disenchantment-, and/or future-oriented poem published during sf’s emergent Radium Age (c. 1900–1935). Research and selection by Joshua Glenn.
Excerpt from a parody of Thomas Hardy’s The Dynasts, a closet drama in verse and prose. Collected in A Christmas Garland — a 1912 collection of the author’s Xmas-themed parodies.
The Void is disclosed. Our own Solar System is visible, distant by some two million miles.
Enter the Ancient Spirit and Chorus of the Years, the Spirit and Chorus of the Pities, the Spirit Ironic, the Spirit Sinister, Rumours, Spirit-Messengers, and the Recording Angel.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES.
Yonder, that swarm of things insectual
Wheeling Nowhither in Particular—
What is it?
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS.
That? Oh that is merely one
Of those innumerous congeries
Of parasites by which, since time began,
Space has been interfested.
SPIRIT SINISTER.
What a pity
We have no means of stamping out these
pests!
SPIRIT IRONIC.
Nay, but I like to watch them buzzing
round,
Poor little trumpery ephaeonals!
CHORUS OF THE PIETIES (aerial music).
Yes, yes!
What matter a few more or less?
Here and Nowhere plus
Whence and Why makes Thus.
Let these things be.
There’s room in the world for them and us.
Nothing is,
Out in the vast immensities
Where these things flit,
Irrequisite
In a minor key
To the tune of the sempiternal It.
SPIRIT IRONIC.
The curious thing about them is that some
Have lesser parasites adherent to them —
Bipedular and quadrupedular
Infinitesimals. On close survey
You see these movesome. Do you not
recall,
We once went in a party and beheld
All manner of absurd things happening
On one of those same — planets, don’t you
call them?
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS (screwing up his eyes at the Solar System).
One of that very swarm it was, if I mistake
not.
It had a parasite that called itself
Napoléon. And lately, I believe,
Another parasite has had the impudence
To publish an elaborate account
Of our (for so we deemed it) private visit.
SPIRIT SINISTER.
His name?
RECORDING ANGEL.
One moment.
(Turns over leaves.)
Hardy, Mr. Thomas,
Novelist. Author of “The Woodlanders,”
“Far from the Madding Crowd,” “The
Trumpet Major,”
“Tess of the D’Urbervilles,” etcetera,
Etcetera. In 1895
“Jude the Obscure” was published, and a
few
Hasty reviewers, having to supply
A column for the day of publication,
Filled out their space by saying that there
were
Several passages that might have been
Omitted with advantage. Mr. Hardy
Saw that if that was 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.
SPIRIT IRONIC.
Let us hear what he said about Us.
THE OTHER SPIRITS.
Let’s.
RECORDING ANGEL (raising receiver of aerial telephone).
3 oh 4 oh oh 3 5, Space…. Hulloa.
Is that the Superstellar Library?
I’m the Recording Angel. Kindly send me
By Spirit-Messenger a copy of
“The Dynasts” by T. Hardy. Thank you.
A pause. Enter Spirit-Messenger, with copy of “The Dynasts.”
Thanks.
Exit Spirit-Messenger. The Recording Angel reads “The Dynasts” aloud.
Just as the reading draws to a close, enter the Spirit of Mr. Clement Shorter and Chorus of Subtershorters. They are visible as small grey transparencies swiftly interpenetrating the brains of the spatial Spirits.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES.
It is a book which, once you take it up,
You cannot readily lay down.
SPIRIT SINISTER.
There is
Not a dull page in it.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS.
A bold conception
Outcarried with that artistry for which
The author’s name is guarantee. We have
No hesitation in commending to our
readers
A volume which —
The Spirit of Mr. Clement Shorter and Chorus of Subtershorters are detected and expelled.
— we hasten to denounce
As giving an entirely false account
Of our impressions.
SPIRIT IRONIC.
Hear, hear!
SPIRIT SINISTER.
Hear, hear!
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES.
Hear!
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS.
Intensive vision has this Mr. Hardy,
With a dark skill in weaving word-patterns
Of subtle ideographies that mark him
A man of genius. So am not I,
But a plain Spirit, simple and forthright,
With no damned philosophical fal-lals
About me. When I visited that planet
And watched the animalculae thereon,
I never said they were “automata”
And “jackaclocks,” nor dared describe their
deeds
As “Life’s impulsion by Incognizance.”
It may be that those mites have no free will,
But how should I know? Nay, how Mr.
Hardy?
We cannot glimpse the origin of things,
Cannot conceive a Causeless Cause, albeit
Such a Cause must have been, and must be
greater
Than we whose little wits cannot conceive
it.
“Incognizance”! Why deem incognizant
An infinitely higher than ourselves?
How dare define its way with us? How
know
Whether it leaves us free or holds us bond?
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES.
Allow me to associate myself
With every word that’s fallen from your lips.
The author of “The Dynasts” has indeed
Misused his undeniably great gifts
In striving to belittle things that are
Little enough already. I don’t say
That the phrenetical behaviour
Of those aforesaid animalculae
Did, while we watched them, seem to
indicate
Possession of free-will. But, bear in mind,
We saw them in peculiar circumstances—
At war, blinded with blood and lust and
fear.
Is it not likely that at other times
They are quite decent midgets, capable
Of thinking for themselves, and also acting
Discreetly on their own initiative,
Not drilled and herded, yet gregarious—
A wise yet frolicsome community?
SPIRIT IRONIC.
What are these “other times” though? I had
thought
Those midgets whiled away the vacuous
hours
After one war in training for the next.
And let me add that my contempt for them
Is not done justice to by Mr. Hardy.
[excerpt ends here]
Note: Thomas Hardy described this The Dynasts as “an epic-drama of the war with Napoleon, in three parts, nineteen acts and one hundred and thirty scenes.” The three parts were published in 1904, 1906 and 1908. Excerpt:
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Methinks too much assurance thrills your note
On secrets in my locker, gentle sprites;
But it may serve.—Our thought being now reflexed
To forces operant on this English isle,
Behoves it us to enter scene by scene,
And watch the spectacle of Europe’s moves
In her embroil, as they were self-ordained
According to the naive and liberal creed
Of our great-hearted young Compassionates,
Forgetting the Prime Mover of the gear,
As puppet-watchers him who pulls the strings.—
You’ll mark the twitchings of this Bonaparte
As he with other figures foots his reel,
Until he twitch him into his lonely grave:
Also regard the frail ones that his flings
Have made gyrate like animalcula
In tepid pools.—Hence to the precinct, then,
And count as framework to the stagery
Yon architraves of sunbeam-smitten cloud.—
So may ye judge Earth’s jackaclocks to be
No fugled by one Will, but function-free.
RADIUM AGE PROTO-SF POETRY: Stephen Spender’s THE PYLONS | George Sterling’s THE TESTIMONY OF THE SUNS | Archibald MacLeish’s EINSTEIN | Thomas Thornely’s THE ATOM | C.S. Lewis’s DYMER | Stephen Vincent Benét’s METROPOLITAN NIGHTMARE | Robert Frost’s FIRE AND ICE | Aldous Huxley’s FIFTH PHILOSOPHER’S SONG | Sara Teasdale’s “THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS” | Edith Södergran’s ON FOOT I HAD TO… | Robert Graves’s WELSH INCIDENT | Nancy Cunard’s ZEPPELINS | D.H. Lawrence’s WELLSIAN FUTURES | & many more.