Journeys Through Bookland Volume X Part 6

Turning to his men, however, the brave king spoke: "Don't be alarmed if they do outnumber us ten to one. We have begun n.o.bly. Battles so bravely won as these we have fought, have always been lauded to the skies. Your fame shall never die. And as for myself, this is my task. I shall not ask England to mourn for me nor to praise me. If I am not victor here, or if I am slain, never shall she be asked for one penny to redeem me.

From the great battles of Poitiers and Cressy we learn that when the French were the most swollen with pride they fell beneath our swords.

Our skill is none the less than that of those who fought under our great grandsire when he defeated the French and cut their national emblems to the ground."

What a battle array it was! The vanguard was led by the dread Duke of York; the king himself in the midst of his brave guards sped in the center with the main body of the troops, while the valiant rearguard was captained by Excester, courageous as any man in the great army.

And now the fight begins! Armour on armour s.h.i.+nes; drum now to drum does groan,--to hear is wonder; that, with the cries they make, shakes the very earth; trumpet to trumpet speaks, thunder to thunder.

From the ambuscade of our hidden forces the n.o.ble Erpingham gives the signal for the English archers to fire. Now like a storm the cloth-yard-long arrows sped by the strong bows of Spanish yew strike the French horses, stinging them like serpents through the withers. Every bowman stands to his place, not one deserting; every true English heart rejoices in the slaughter.

Down go the bows when the arrows are shot, out spring the great swords, as the English fly on the French, not one laggard in the company; straight from their shoulders spring the blows that cleave the heads of the French peasants and drop them in the dust of trampling feet.

Meantime the n.o.ble king, brandis.h.i.+ng his broad-sword, dashes along the French line as though to overwhelm it with his mighty blows, while many a wound sheds blood on his arms and many a cruel dint sinks into his helmet.

The good duke Glo'ster, next of the royal blood, fights side by side with his brave brother, and the youthful Clarence in this almost the first of his battles fights as furiously as any experienced knight; Warwick wades in blood, and Oxford adds to the cruel slaughter of the foe. Suffolk plies his axe manfully while Beaumont, Willoughby, Ferrers and Fanhope, names for the English to conjure with, bear themselves as bravely.

_Herve Riel_

Let us take, as a final example, Browning's poem _Herve Riel_ (Volume VIII, page 168). We will set about the preparation of it together. First we will read the note and then the poem. * * * It is a stirring thing, a n.o.ble monument to a n.o.ble man. It is worth the telling. We will read through it again and mark the pa.s.sages that contain the incidents that make the story, so that we may not have to hesitate for ideas after we begin to talk. * * * Really, the plot is more simple than we thought. It is merely this: "The French fleet, defeated by the English, arrives off the harbor of Saint Halo. They call for pilots, but none will try to conduct the big s.h.i.+ps through the dangerous channel, and the captains decide to wreck and burn their s.h.i.+ps, so the English may not capture them. Just at this time a simple Breton sailor offers to pilot the vessels through, under penalty of death. The commander puts him in charge of the fleet and he takes them safely into the harbor. The English arrive just too late to do any damage, and the French commander, grateful to his deliverer, offers him any reward he may wish. The Breton laughs and asks for one day's leave to go and visit his wife who lives near by."

Let us consider the persons. Evidently Herve Riel is the only one we need mention by name. We could give him a simpler name, but if the story is true, everyone ought to remember him. We must try to make him seem alive. We must make his deed seem great and must make a point of his patriotic devotion and of his beautiful love for his wife.

Now we are ready to talk, as soon as we have thought a little and a.s.sured ourselves that we are in the right spirit. So, facing our audience of small children, we begin:

I've just been reading _Herve Riel_, a story that I like so much I must tell it to you. A long time ago, before there was a (name your town), really before there was a United States, there was a long war across the ocean between the great nations, England and France. There had been a b.l.o.o.d.y battle between their navies, and the French had been beaten.

Still twenty-two of their s.h.i.+ps escaped, sailed to their own country and arrived outside the harbor of Saint Malo. But they were not safe, by any means. The English were close behind and could soon overtake and capture or destroy all the French vessels, and put to death many of their crews. Inside the harbor the French knew they would be safe, for no English vessel could get through the long, crooked channels without a pilot, and no Frenchman would lead the English.

Without even waiting to anchor, the captains made signals for pilots and many skilled ones came off to the s.h.i.+ps. When the pilots heard that the French were crippled and must get into the harbor they laughed at the captains.

"Go through there now?" they said. "Why, you can't do it. Don't you see it's low tide and the rocks are showing everywhere? The channel is crooked and very dangerous at high water and now you could not get your smallest s.h.i.+p through safely, let alone such a large s.h.i.+p as the _Formidable_ here, with her ninety-two big guns. It can't be done."

Nothing could change the minds of the pilots. They knew their business thoroughly. So the captains met to decide what they should do. The commander addressed them, saying:

"The English are at our heels. What shall we do? Do you want them to tow us all, one behind the other, back to their country to become their prizes? Not I. Better run all the s.h.i.+ps aground, set fire to them, and escape ourselves if we can."

The brave captains all looked at their commander. Every man shut his teeth together, set his brows, and with flas.h.i.+ng eyes said, "Speak the word; we will obey."

But the commander never gave his order! Right into the excited group stepped a man; not a captain, not even a second mate; just a plain, simple sailor who lived near Saint Malo. He had not even joined the fleet of his own will, but had been seized and carried on board long before the battle, because the navy was short of sailors. You might think he would want revenge for being taken away from his home and his fis.h.i.+ng. Did he? At first he was too much excited to speak, but in a moment he stormed out:

"What's the matter with you pilots? Are you mad, or fools, or cowards, or have the English bought you body and soul? Don't talk to me of rock and shallow places and crooked channels! Haven't I sailed these waters for years, and don't I know every shallow place, every dangerous turn, every inch of the way? You cowards! There's a way through, I tell you."

Then Herve Riel turned to the commander and shouted, "Put me in charge of this s.h.i.+p, the biggest, this _Formidable_, and I'll steer her through. Make the others follow me closely. They'll all come safely in.

Try me; I'll do it. I haven't much to offer for the chance, but if this s.h.i.+p so much as touches her keel on a hidden rock, you may cut off my head. Let me try, sir."

The commander replied, "We have not a second to spare. You're admiral here! Take the helm and lead us through!"

Herve Riel was as prompt as the commander, and seizing the tiller, he soon had the great s.h.i.+p sailing along under perfect control. She went into the narrow channel, with the great rocks high on both sides. The waves beat up angrily and the breakers threw their spray high over the decks. With eyes fixed on the channel and both hands on the helm, he guided the staunch vessel on the winding course. Time and again it seemed as though she must be wrecked, but just at the moment of greatest danger Herve Riel s.h.i.+fted the helm, and the stately s.h.i.+p moved safely on. With hearts beating high, the officers watched the wonderful deed, and the frightened sailors clung speechless to the rail. Finally, between two great rocks that seemed to block the channel completely, the s.h.i.+p sailed majestically into the harbor, and Herve Riel had kept his promise. Not once had the great _Formidable_ touched her keel to a rock; not a scratch, except the battle scars, marred her fair sides.

After her, one by one, came the other s.h.i.+ps of the squadron, till all were anch.o.r.ed safely in the harbor. Just as the last s.h.i.+p came to anchor, the English fleet, coming up in helpless anger, began to throw sh.e.l.ls across the pa.s.sage. The French, however, were out of range and could laugh at the fruitless attempts of their enemy. With one voice the captains and sailors of the rescued fleet shouted, "Herve Riel! Herve Riel! Now, let the king of France reward the man who has saved his fleet!"

And what of the brave sailor? He stood calm and quiet without a gleam of pride in his frank blue eyes. Just the same man as he was before his gallant deed, he answered the commander's call and stood before him.

"My friend," began the commander, "I can scarcely speak, but you know praise comes from the heart and not from the lips. You have saved the fleet from certain destruction and have preserved the lives of many of your countrymen. No reward is too great for you. Ask what you will and it shall be granted."

Herve Riel's blue eyes danced with merriment as he said, "Now that my work is over I would like, if I may have it, one whole day to visit my wife, whom I call 'Beautiful Aurora,' and who lives just a little way from Saint Malo. That is all I want. May I go?"

You can imagine whether or not his request was granted.

Now, do you know, that brave act was forgotten; Herve Riel was forgotten for many centuries. No monument was erected to his memory; there seemed nothing to keep the patriotic man alive in the hearts of his countrymen.

But one day, not so many years ago, Robert Browning, the great English poet, heard the story, and he was so moved by the heroic deed and the quiet humor of the man, that he wrote a fine, manly poem and called it _Herve Riel_, so that it should remain as a monument to the patriotism and character of the simple French sailor.

If the children are older and studying history, we would give more of an idea of the place, and of the occasion and show what the effect of saving the s.h.i.+p really was. The poem is an excellent one, but most children do not care for it till they have heard the story and have studied the text. Then they are delighted with it and will read it again and again. It has been many years since the writer of this first read _Herve Riel_, but he has never wearied of it and cannot read it now without a thrill of admiration for the hero and for Browning's monument.

When you tell the story, do not try to tell it as this has been told.

Use _your_ words, select for emphasis the parts that appeal to _you_ and give the children just the ideas that _you_ have conceived.

Other cla.s.sics that will make just as good subjects for story telling are in every volume of _Journeys_. The following list contains only a few of them. By adapting them to the age of the young listeners, almost any of them may be made suitable for almost any age:

Volume I, page 79. _Little Red Riding Hood._ Volume I, page 101. _Silver Locks and the Three Bears._ Volume I, page 134. _The Dog in the Manger._ Volume I, page 431. _Baucis and Philemon._ Volume I, page 456. _The Story of Joseph._ Volume II, page 111. _The Punishment of Loki._ Volume II, page 448. _The Story of Esther._ Volume II, page 387. _What the Old Man Does Is Always Right._ Volume III, page 436. _Robin Hood._ Volume IV, page 192. _The Pine-Tree s.h.i.+llings._ Volume IV, page 274. _David._ Volume IV, page 383. _The Wooden Horse._ Volume V, page 130. _Balin and Balan._ Volume V, page 237. _The Pa.s.sing of Arthur._ Volume VI, page 143. _Ruth._

CHAPTER V

READING AND THE BUILDING OF CHARACTER

I

The influences which unite to make character are so numerous, subtle and complex that it is next to impossible to detect them or to cla.s.sify them in order of importance. Not only is this true of the aggregate, but it is true of the individual. It is doubtful if any person in middle life can tell just what he is or just how he became himself. He is aware of some great influences that have exerted their power over him at certain crises in his life, but the little things which, taken together, have done more to form and fix his character are often unrecognized or undervalued. Fortunately, at this time we need to give attention to only one phase of the great question.

Character is the one important thing. Great as is the value of book education, of practical power and of good health, still greater is the importance of sound, wholesome character; and, consciously or unconsciously, intentionally or unintentionally, the teacher and the parent are incessantly at work building the characters of the young people placed in their charge. Most of us, too, are working toward right ends as conscientiously as possible. Yet often we grow faint-hearted, or are puzzled to know what we can do to help the children and how we can do it most effectively.

That the influence of reading on character is one of the most powerful is granted by every high-minded person who has written or spoken upon the subject. Really, it is not an influence, but a series of influences, wide, complex, far-reaching. The extended range of subjects, the infinite variety in style, the unlimited shades in sentiment to be found in literature make its presence influential everywhere and always. In reading there is comfort for the sorrowing, companions.h.i.+p for the lonely, encouragement for the downcast, entertainment for the leisurely, inspiration for the sluggish. Gentle, pervasive, almost unnoticed, yet stronger than iron bands, is the power of literature over us. We are what we read.

If such be the case, then there need be no argument concerning the importance of suitable reading matter for the young. To leave a child wholly to his own inclinations in reading is as absurd as to send him to take honey from a swarm of angry bees and not expect him to be stung.

Inevitably, he will be injured, and that seriously. To supply him with honey, all that he wants, at all times and without exertion to himself, is to clog his taste and destroy his appet.i.te. We must see that he is led to look for the sweet, taught to recognize it when he finds it, and to extract it from the comb. He will enjoy working to get it. On the other hand, he must not be sent where his reward is too difficult to find and secure, lest he become discouraged and cease to work.

School readers furnish much excellent material for reading; in the majority of schools there is furnished more or less of supplementary reading which is quite as good as that in the text-books and which will have the merit of novelty and exclusiveness. Yet, in spite of this, parents and teachers are continually finding themselves at a loss for fresh and inspiring things for special occasions. All these may be had from _Journeys Through Bookland_ and to a.s.sist in finding them and in using them after found the following has been written.

II

Character is made up of a great variety of traits; some of the mind, some of the heart, some of the soul. That is, what we are is composed of what we know, what we feel and what we believe. In response to those things we act; we govern ourselves in respect to ourselves and in respect to others.

The grave responsibility that rests upon parents and teachers is to encourage those traits which make for n.o.ble manhood and womanhood and to correct or eradicate as far as possible those which are bad in themselves or which help to neutralize or destroy the good ones.