Story Hour Readings: Seventh Year Part 42

HERVe RIEL

BY ROBERT BROWNING

Robert Browning (1812-1889) is one of the great poets of England. The following incident of a simple French sailor performing a deed of heroism appealed to Browning's dramatic sense; hence this stirring ballad. The poem was written in 1871, when France was suffering defeat in the Franco-Prussian War. The proceeds from its sale (one hundred pounds) were contributed to French war sufferers.

On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two, Did the English fight the French,--woe to France!

And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue, Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks 5 pursue, Came crowding s.h.i.+p on s.h.i.+p to Saint Malo on the Rance, With the English fleet in view.

'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; 10 First and foremost of the drove, in his great s.h.i.+p, Damfreville; Close on him fled, great and small, Twenty-two good s.h.i.+ps in all; And they signaled to the place-- 15 "Help the winners of a race!

Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick--or, quicker still, Here's the English can and will!"

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board.

"Why, what hope or chance have s.h.i.+ps like these to pa.s.s?"

laughed they.

"Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the pa.s.sage scarred 5 and scored, Shall the _Formidable_ here, with her twelve and eighty guns, Think to make the river mouth by the single narrow way, Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, And with flow at full beside? 10 Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide.

Reach the mooring? Rather say, While rock stands or water runs, Not a s.h.i.+p will leave the bay!"

Then was called a council straight. 15 Brief and bitter the debate: "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound? 20 Better run the s.h.i.+ps aground!"-- (Ended Damfreville his speech)-- "Not a minute more to wait!

Let the captains all and each Shove ash.o.r.e, then blow up, burn the vessels on the 25 beach!

France must undergo her fate.

"Give the word!" But no such word Was ever spoke or heard; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck, amid all these-- 30 A captain? A lieutenant? A mate--first, second, third?

No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete, But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet-- 5 A poor coasting pilot he, Herve Riel the Croisickese.

And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Herve Riel.

"Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues? 10 Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell, 'Twixt the offing here and Greve where the river disembogues? 15 Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for?

Morn and eve, night and day, Have I piloted your bay, Entered free and anch.o.r.ed fast at the foot of Solidor. 20 Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues!

Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way!

Only let me lead the line, 25 Have the biggest s.h.i.+p to steer; Get this _Formidable_ clear, Make the others follow mine, And I lead them, most and least, by a pa.s.sage I know well, Right to Solidor past Greve, 30 And there lay them safe and sound; And if one s.h.i.+p misbehave-- Keel so much as grate the ground-- Why, I've nothing but my life--here's my head!" cries Herve Riel.

Not a minute more to wait.

"Steer us in, then, small and great! 5 Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief.

"Captains, give the sailor place!

He is admiral, in brief."

Still the north wind, by G.o.d's grace! 10 See the n.o.ble fellow's face As the big s.h.i.+p, with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound, Keeps the pa.s.sage as its inch of way were the wide seas profound! 15 See, safe through shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock, Not a s.h.i.+p that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief! 20 The peril, see, is past, All are harbored to the last, And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate, Up the English come--too late!

So the storm subsides to calm; 25 They see the green trees wave On the heights o'erlooking Greve; Hearts that bled are stanched with balm.

"Just our rapture to enhance, Let the English rake the bay, 30 Gnash their teeth and glare askance As they cannonade away!

'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!"

How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!

Out burst all with one accord, 5 "This is paradise for h.e.l.l!

Let France, let France's king, Thank the man that did the thing!"

What a shout, and all one word, "Herve Riel!" 10 As he stepped in front once more, Not a symptom of surprise In the frank blue Breton eyes, Just the same man as before.

Then said Damfreville, "My friend, 15 I must speak out at the end, Though I find the speaking hard.

Praise is deeper than the lips; You have saved the King his s.h.i.+ps, You must name your own reward. 20 Faith, our sun was near eclipse!

Demand whate'er you will, France remains your debtor still.

Ask to heart's content and have!--or my name's not Damfreville." 25

Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, As the honest heart laughed through Those frank eyes of Breton blue: "Since I needs must say my say, Since on board the duty's done-- And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?-- Since 'tis ask and have, I may-- 5 Since the others go ash.o.r.e--?

Come! A good whole holiday!

Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!"

That he asked and that he got,--nothing more.

Name and deed alike are lost: 10 Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; Not a head in white and black On a single fis.h.i.+ng smack, In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack 15 All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell.

Go to Paris: rank on rank Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre, face and flank! 20 You shall look long enough ere you come to Herve Kiel.

So, for better and for worse, Herve Riel, accept my verse!

In my verse, Herve Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle 25 Aurore!

1. What about the man Herve Riel do you admire most? Try to describe his character. Tell how he saved the fleet.

2. Notes: Line 13, page 312, refers to the custom of painting or carving the head of a hero on the bow of a s.h.i.+p.--Lines 16-17, page 312. Formerly a bell was the prize given the victor in a race.

THE SONG OF THE CAMP

BY BAYARD TAYLOR

This is a song of the Crimean War, a war between Russia on one side and Turkey, Great Britain, France, and Sardinia on the other. Guarding Sebastopol (the chief city of the Crimea) were several forts among which were the Redan and the Malakoff, mentioned herein. These, as well as the works of Balaklava, were held by the Russians. It was at Balaklava, you will recall, that the "Charge of the Light Brigade" was made, a charge made famous by Tennyson's poem.

"Give us a song!" the soldiers cried, The outer trenches guarding, When the heated guns of the camps allied Grew weary of bombarding.

The dark Redan, in silent scoff, 5 Lay grim and threatening under; And the tawny mound of the Malakoff No longer belched its thunder.

There was a pause. A guardsman said, "We storm the forts to-morrow: 10 Sing while we may; another day Will bring enough of sorrow."

They lay along the battery's side, Below the smoking cannon-- Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde 15 And from the banks of Shannon.

They sang of love and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang _Annie Laurie_.

Voice after voice caught up the song, 5 Until its tender pa.s.sion Rose like an anthem, rich and strong-- Their battle-eve confession.

Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, But as the song grew louder, 10 Something upon the soldier's cheek Washed off the stains of powder.

Beyond the darkening ocean burned The b.l.o.o.d.y sunset's embers, While the Crimean valleys learned 15 How English love remembers.

And once again a fire of h.e.l.l Rained on the Russian quarters, With scream of shot, and burst of sh.e.l.l, And bellowing of the mortars! 20

And Irish Nora's eyes are dim For a singer dumb and gory; And English Mary mourns for him Who sang of _Annie Laurie_.

Sleep, soldiers! Still in honored rest Your truth and valor wearing; The bravest are the tenderest-- The loving are the daring.

1. At what time of day did the singing take place?

Why, do you suppose, did the British soldiers sing _Annie Laurie_? Repeat some of the lines of that song.