Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1918-08-28

EFT me write the songs of a nation. and
" | care not who makes THAI nations
laws Thus spoke some old diplomat after
a long career of Lying abroad to serve his
sovereign" convinced Of the futility of writ
ten laws: or was 1t some learned folk
loreate who could only "identify' the balladry
of old time and was himself incapable of
penning Il sonnet, even to so artificial a
charm as his lady's eyebrows? And yet there
is much truth In the old adage: There Is a
nation which sings of an armed Amazon,
guarding a stolen frontier with hostile eyes
avaricious of further thefts westward. a
nation which marches to a hymn of hate
and sings in ~eXultant anticipation. Germany
on the Top of the Heap" 1t is this nation
which has become the worlds outlaw Ana
1t Is France which springs again to life with
the "Marseillaise."
TT HAS often been remarked with surprise
i that men of English tongue should be so
inexpensive lyrically. With a ~poetical litera-
ture second to none. there are no great
English songs of battle. The war poetry
that exists, of the present moment as OF tne
past. whether in England, the colonies or IN
America, is singularly inadequate to the
great events in which English-speaking
peoples have played their heroic part. IommE
Atkins goes into battle with "A music NAH
ditty on his lips, the words of which are
fiippant, ma wkish or inane' Inc Hernnah'
more OT s''''''
good old German sword" of armor ana
empire; the man of Latin race Is stirred to
song. pertinent and adequate TO the sacrIhce,
the honor, the glory of righteous war ana
its details, It's humors. Its pathos are th,nss
convertible readily into current song. Inc
greatest war. poetry in England has been
written strictly in accordance with the second
half of Wordsworth's famous d'ctum ABOUT
poetry as the overflow of powerful emotioh'
recollected Us that the way 1t runsD in a
S,hcap,ant pariOd Of calm Is II Wndt we
like to call the reticence of the Anglo
Saxon nature which makes 1t easy Tor the
English poetical Romeo to write sonnets
about the inexpensive Rosaline," but holds
him dumb before his Juliet?' And VIII THIS
account for the circumstances that our boys
at the front sing amy old thing ana mat
we at home are content with our dishineu
Star Spangled Banner" imperfectiy ren'em-'
bered, with new moralizi ngs OF our bat,ie
Hymn" set to a good, old hymn
and with trivialities like 'Orer There?
TIME GOWNSMAN has been much taken
i with a little volume of French soldiers
poetry which has recently come his way, 1t
Is entitled "Chansons de Route ('Songs or
the March,, by Theodore Botrel, VINO IS
described as "Chansonnier aux Armees'
('Accredited Singer to the French Armies').
What could be more delightful or romantic?
The little book is prefaced with, a portrait
of the author, a bright-faced. young soldier
in his uniform of the Forty-frst Infantry,
underneath which are his autograph words:
:'These are not yet Songs of Victory. Pa
thence, they will come. Listen TO the songs
of the path of glory whittier these will lead
you"
TT SEEMS, from the predatory matter, fur
nished by NJ. Tardieu, of the French
Academy. that Botrel is the poet, composer
and singer of his songs, all In one. and that.
above all, he never loses for a moment that
most important identity, the foundation of all
these. that he is the brother in arms of Jean
Poilu. NJ. Tardieu tells of three "auditoires"
of Botrel, one in the hospital of Dunes, where
he sang to a large room full of wounded In
their cots a second before a huge audience
of soldiers recently from the front a third
before the sailors of the fleet, mostly Bretons,
like Botrel himself, hardy conquerors of the
intractable sea. M, Tardieu confessed to a
doubt, a fear when he heard that the young
singer was accredited to sing to the wounded
in their hospital. ITO speak of honor, coun-
try heroism and glory to men still breathing
hard under the sufferings of yesterday. men
whose fate II was shortly to return and
struggle TO the supreme end? Was not this
a nInsling OF trivialities with eternal veri-
ties almost amounting to blasphemy?' But
IN a beautiful passage. the editor tells Of
the simple power Of song. how haggard faces
Frightened. how feeble pulses were rhythmi-
| cally stirred, how each brave sufferer. In
such manner as he might. was cheered.
| smiied. applauded. laughed. look Z new hold
1 on life. And the honest editor ooncludess