Edmund Blunden's "The Ancre at Hamel: Afterwards"

Andrew Kerr (September 27, 1999): English 354/Finley

(See peer comments by Susan Quigley)

In his poem 'The Ancre at Hamel: Afterwards,' Edmund Blunden ponders the

pain and anguish suffered by not only the soldiers but also by the once lovely

landscape during the Great War. The poem begins, as the title suggests, after the

Allied victory in France. While most of the soldiers are chattering together with warm

thoughts in celebration, the speaker cannot share in their jubilation. Behind the

dulcet din of the festive soldiers, the speaker hears the sad murmur of the Ancre river.

The speaker seems especially attuned to the river's whispers and seeks to understand

what the river is trying to convey. The river's voice unsettles the speaker's sleep like

a disturbing dream: "Waking oft in the mid of night/ I heard the Ancre flow" (Lines

3-4) The river and the speaker appear to be kindred spirits of sorts. They can speak to

each other while others cannot. Like the speaker, the river has experienced too much

destruction and despair to be able to enjoy the thrill of victory.

While the first stanza implies that the speaker is able to understand the river,

the second stanza begins to demonstrate how this understanding is manifested.

While the loud and light hearted soldiers might interpret the river's bubbling beauty

and effervescent melody as something to celebrate, the speaker interprets the river's

words differently: "I heard it crying, that sad rill" (5). The river has also become a

scarred casualty of war. It is nestled below a "painful ridge"(6), and the once

pleasant mill that prospered along its banks is nothing more than a charred skeleton.

The coexistence of civilization and nature often culminates in the picture of a bridge

over a river. This scene has inspired so many artists to demonstrate how the elegant

contours of a bridge over a serene river is sometimes more attractive than the river

itself. The war tore away the beauty of this river's bridge and left an unpleasant relic

behind.

The river's voice has a powerful ability to remind the speaker of his sorrow and

pain. When he hears the river's sad sighs, even from afar, they grip his reality so

tightly that the happy voices of the partying soldiers seem to be nothing more than a

pale dream: "And could this sighing river seem / To call me far away, / and its pale

word dismiss as dream / The voices of to-day?" (9-12). The speaker knows no peace

or delight for the "brook's troubling tone" (16) reminds him at all times the horror

and sorrow of war. The tone of the last stanza suggests that the speaker might envy

the river because it is excused from creating a facade of frivolity. The speaker is

aware that the river does not take part in the victory festivities. Even as the speaker

tries to enjoy the victory, the river's voice speaks to him and pulls him away from the

party. The speaker has such an understanding of the river's anguish that he feels as if

he and the river share a sad existence: "its stream ran through my heart; / I heard it

grieve and pine / As if its rainy tortured blood / had swirled into my own" (19-22).

Ultimately the speaker feels so estranged from the partying soldiers that he leaves the

party to lament with the river and share a "wounded moan" (24).

The river and the speaker share and understanding that while the war may be

over there is truly very little to celebrate. The river, the life-blood of the earth, has

been contaminated and tortured by war, just as the blood of the speaker has been

infected and harmed by the horrors of battle. Both have been bruised and battered to

an agonizing extent. Humans cannot easily forget such atrocities and violations nor

can the earth, and they constantly remind each other the horror or war.