Works of Thomas Hardy discussion

The Alarm

In Memory of one of the Writer’s Family who was a Volunteer during the War with Napoleon

In a ferny byway
Near the great South-Wessex Highway,
A homestead raised its breakfast-smoke aloft;
The dew-damps still lay steamless, for the sun had made no sky-way,
And twilight cloaked the croft.

'Twas hard to realize on
This snug side the mute horizon
That beyond it hostile armaments might steer,
Save from seeing in the porchway a fair woman weep with eyes on
A harnessed Volunteer.

In haste he’d flown there
To his comely wife alone there,
While marching south hard by, to still her fears,
For she soon would be a mother, and few messengers were known there
In these campaigning years.

'Twas time to be Good-bying,
Since the assembly-hour was nighing
In royal George’s town at six that morn;
And betwixt its wharves and this retreat were ten good miles of hieing
Ere ring of bugle-horn.

“I’ve laid in food, Dear,
And broached the spiced and brewed, Dear;
And if our July hope should antedate,
Let the char-wench mount and gallop by the halterpath and wood, Dear,
And fetch assistance straight.

”As for Buonaparte, forget him;
He’s not like to land! But let him,
Those strike with aim who strike for wives and sons!
And the war-boats built to float him; 'twere but wanted to upset him
A slat from Nelson’s guns!

“But, to assure thee,
And of creeping fears to cure thee,
If he should be rumored anchoring in the Road,
Drive with the nurse to Kingsbere; and let nothing thence allure thee
Till we’ve him safe-bestowed.

”Now, to turn to marching matters:—
I’ve my knapsack, firelock, spatters,
Crossbelts, priming-horn, stock, bay’net, blackball, clay,
Pouch, magazine, flints, flint-box that at every quick-step clatters;
...My heart, Dear; that must stay!"

—With breathings broken
Farewell was kissed unspoken,
And they parted there as morning stroked the panes;
And the Volunteer went on, and turned, and twirled his glove for
token,
And took the coastward lanes.

When above He’th Hills he found him,
He saw, on gazing round him,
The Barrow-Beacon burning—burning low,
As if, perhaps, uplighted ever since he’d homeward bound him;
And it meant: Expect the Foe!

Leaving the byway,
And following swift the highway,
Car and chariot met he, faring fast inland;
“He’s anchored, Soldier!” shouted some:
“God save thee, marching thy way,
Th’lt front him on the strand!”

He slowed; he stopped; he paltered
Awhile with self, and faltered,
“Why courting misadventure shoreward roam?
To Molly, surely! Seek the woods with her till times have altered;
Charity favors home.

”Else, my denying
He would come she’ll read as lying—
Think the Barrow-Beacon must have met my eyes—
That my words were not unwareness, but deceit of her, while trying
My life to jeopardize.

“At home is stocked provision,
And to-night, without suspicion,
We might bear it with us to a covert near;
Such sin, to save a childing wife, would earn it Christ’s remission,
Though none forgive it here!”

While thus he, thinking,
A little bird, quick drinking
Among the crowfoot tufts the river bore,
Was tangled in their stringy arms, and fluttered, well-nigh sinking,
Near him, upon the moor.

He stepped in, reached, and seized it,
And, preening, had released it
But that a thought of Holy Writ occurred,
And Signs Divine ere battle, till it seemed him Heaven had pleased it
As guide to send the bird.

“O Lord, direct me!...
Doth Duty now expect me
To march a-coast, or guard my weak ones near?
Give this bird a flight according, that I thence know to elect me
The southward or the rear.”

He loosed his clasp; when, rising,
The bird—as if surmising—
Bore due to southward, crossing by the Froom,
And Durnover Great-Field and Fort, the soldier clear advising—
Prompted he wist by Whom.

Then on he panted
By grim Mai-Don, and slanted
Up the steep Ridge-way, hearkening betwixt whiles,
Till, nearing coast and harbor, he beheld the shore-line planted
With Foot and Horse for miles.

Mistrusting not the omen,
He gained the beach, where Yeomen,
Militia, Fencibles, and Pikemen bold,
With Regulars in thousands, were enmassed to meet the Foemen,
Whose fleet had not yet shoaled.

Captain and Colonel,
Sere Generals, Ensigns vernal,
Were there, of neighbor-natives, Michel, Smith,
Meggs, Bingham, Gambier, Cunningham, roused by the hued nocturnal
Swoop on their land and kith.

But Buonaparte still tarried;
His project had miscarried;
At the last hour, equipped for victory,
The fleet had paused; his subtle combinations had been parried
By British strategy.

Homeward returning
Anon, no beacons burning,
No alarms, the Volunteer, in modest bliss,
Te Deum sang with wife and friends: “We praise Thee, Lord, discerning
That Thou hast helped in this!”

Like the previous one that we read, this poem comes from the first published collection of Hardy's verse, Wessex Poems and Other Verses, and there had the date 1803 below the title. In the printing in The Complete Poems, just under the title, it also has the superscription "(Traditional)," but editor Gibson gives no indication of the provenance or meaning in this context. (The style of the poem really is no more and no less "traditional" than that of any of Hardy's poems.)

This is yet another poem that draws on the oral histories of the Napoleonic Wars that the young Hardy grew up hearing; as the dedication indicates, he had an older family member who has served as a volunteer home guard in that era. (Though England hasn't suffered an actual foreign invasion since 1066, there have been times when the possibility was very real.) Napoleon really did plan an invasion of England in 1803-05, and had raised and outfitted an army for that purpose (financed by his sale of Louisiana to the U.S.). As Hardy indicates in the penultimate stanza here, the plans "miscarried" when "British strategy" kept the two French fleets that were to gain control of the English Channel from combining. (One couldn't break through the blockade of the French coast, and the one that did was defeated at the Battle of Cape Finisterre and forced back into port.) See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Napoleo... .

What gives the poem its abiding interest (to my mind, at least) is its realistic and sympathetic study of the psychology of a plain Wessex common soldier, torn between the claims of duty to king and country and his fears for the safety of his pregnant wife. His use of the bird as a device by which God could indicate His will in the matter is a plausible development for the time and place; and despite Hardy's own religious skepticism, he treats the faith of the soldier and others in this supposed sign with respect.

It must have been very frightening for the British to have Napoleon training his soldiers on the shores of France with only the English Channel separating them.

In the poem, Hardy writes about a volunteer who is torn between his family duty of protecting his pregnant wife and home, and his duty to his country to fight if Napoleon and his soldiers invaded. But he also knows how people would think about a deserter, and how the volunteers would have to fight at their homes later if they didn't fight the French along the shore.

“At home is stocked provision,
And to-night, without suspicion,
We might bear it with us to a covert near;
Such sin, to save a childing wife, would earn it Christ’s remission,
Though none forgive it here!”

Hardy does love to use birds in times of crisis. The volunteer could not make a decision so he followed the bird that he released from the tangled vegetation as a sign from God:

He stepped in, reached, and seized it,
And, preening, had released it
But that a thought of Holy Writ occurred,
And Signs Divine ere battle, till it seemed him Heaven had pleased it
As guide to send the bird.

“O Lord, direct me!...
Doth Duty now expect me
To march a-coast, or guard my weak ones near?
Give this bird a flight according, that I thence know to elect me
The southward or the rear.”

It reminds me of another poem that Werner presented, "A Peasant's Confession," when the peasant had to choose whether to save his farm or give accurate information to the military official who was scouting. He was also choosing between family or country. (Edit: Pamela presented this poem.)

Hardy's paternal grandmother, Mary Head Hardy, told him stories from the Napoleonic Wars. It is thought that the couple in this poem is based on his grandparents' experiences. Their first child, John, was actually born in the summer of 1803.

The poem made me think about how people may have known much more about their family history back in the days before TV and cell phones to distract us from conversations with older family members. Thank you for another look at the Napoleonic Wars, Werner.

Thank you Werner for this detailed background information. The Imperial Navy (Marine Impériale) was definitely weaker than the Royal Navy in terms of numbers but well trained and determined. I don't think that Napoleon ever succeeded in having 100 attack ships. (Today's Marine Nationale has ca. 116 attack ships including the aircraft carrier Charles de Gaulle, 40000 men and women plus a reserve of 5000 people, according to Wiki but I heard less optimistic figures).

How this fear of a French landing in the Southern coast of England impacted the population is very vividly pictured in The Trumpet-Major! Without our modern means of spotting any move on sea, other than field glasses, much was based on hearsay and could lead to rumours and hallucinations, fuelled by fear.

Connie and Claudia, thank you both for your informative and insightful comments! (Our excellent discussion of "The Peasant's Confession" was actually presented by Pamela.)

Thanks for this one Werner, and all the info you, Connie and Claudia have shared. It's now linked.

I can see that this would have been another popular narrative poem when first published, and easily identifiable with to the ordinary person reading it. It might also have been read aloud to the family, around the fire in the evening. The structure lends itself to this, and the dedication makes it feel personal.

What makes it timeless (and traditional) is the theme that the man has a moment of moral crisis, when duty and love pull him in opposite directions. The fact that his wife is expecting a child makes it even more poignant - but also gives an eye to the next generation. I remember exactly how I felt when I learned that my great-grandmother had gone to America, with her sister and their husbands, but returned when one died, and they could not make a living on the land as they'd planned. I could have been American, and in the poem the descendants and readers might never have existed.

Great points about one of his favourite symbols: the bird, Connie, and your observation that previous generations were more au fait with their family history. (I notice though, that people are still interested, but realise this too late, sometimes.)

Interesting that one of Pamela's choices immediately preceded yours, Werner! We'll also find that although Napoleon died decades before, he is nevertheless a significant allusion and symbolic presence in our upcoming read of The Return of the Native.

Another wonderful narrative poem Werner! Thank you.

I liked how the opening stanza brings this feeling of a simple, peaceful, early morning "A homestead raised its breakfast-smoke aloft;. But then immediately after the peace is broken with "hostile armaments" and a "harnessed Volunteer." And the story takes off from there. I also liked how the Volunteer is never named and so stands in for men everywhere leaving their loved ones.

Bridget wrote: "I also liked how the Volunteer is never named and so stands in for men everywhere leaving their loved ones."

Excellent point, Bridget! Hardy tends not to name any of the characters in his narrative poems, and I think this does make it easier for readers to identify with them (or, in other cases, to see them as representatives of all the many humans who have gone through circumstances similar to theirs).

Although I haven't commented on this before, one aspect of Hardy's genius as a poet is his masterful use of archaic language in the poems, like this one, that have a historical setting. The vocabulary here isn't that of educated people in 1898 who read poetry books; rather, it's that of the viewpoint character, an ordinary countryman who speaks and thinks in the language and turns of phrase that the average person in the West Country in 1803 might have. That adds greatly to the realistic feel of this story-poem, and Hardy's others as well.

Werner wrote: "Although I haven't commented on this before, one aspect of Hardy's genius as a poet is his masterful use of archaic language in the poems, like this one, that have a historical setting. The vocabul..."

Excellent point Werner!

Hardy also does this in his novels. There is quite a bit of dialogue in The Return of the Native that captures how the common villager in that part of England spoke in the middle 1800's. We will see this when we start reading the novel in July.