The Hartford herald. [volume] (Hartford, Ky.) 1875-1926, 1918-07-10
WAR ROMANCE.

is called by an hundred NAMES, W"
recognize 1t as the same old story.
no matter what garb 1t wears. IL
is not an adventure story, nor yet
tale of murder or intrigue. We are
tired of that, have had enough OF II
in the magazines and newspapers.
And the real discriminating, author
knows It. He knows which side OF
his bread Is buttered, and he takes
the pains to smear it on deep. He
has a mind to what the people want
and he gives 1t to them.
The people want sentiment. The
great throbbing heart of American
motherhood aches for sympathy.
Wives cling to their departing hus-
bands. while the maiden dreams of
her lover away in camp. And
father, though his eyes are dry and
his lips firm, has a deeper sorrow
down in his heart than we can ever
know. These do not want a gra-
phic word-picture of No Mans land,
where blood flows, the shells
burst and the stencil of corpses is
heavy on the air. The thought
that their own proud boy in khaki
may be one of these corpses erelong
is not an exhibilrating contempla-
ton. No, the clouds are dark
enough already; they want to see
the sun shine breaking through.
The world, and especially the read
ing world, wants love and tender
ness. More of the softer side of
life, less of the storm and struggle.
|. For several decades past the
trend in literature has been away
from the ideal toward the real.
Poets and authors, feigning truth.
have painted life as a sordid CEN
sual sham and called this Realism.
The fad has been popular, all the
little tlogs trying to mimic the big
ones. We have never been friend
ly to this travesty on the holy pur-
pose of literature-the purpose OF
which is to lift men to a higher
plane and cheer them on to greater
moral conquest. But Realism is
doomed. The world is in war
for an ideal, one that would wake
the immortal dead and call sleeping
heroes from their graves. These
are heroic times. This age is like
ly to produce another Shakespeare.
If it does, of what type will he be?
OF course, he will be an idealist.
But still, in the present-day litera-
ture, we cannot help seeing certain
tendency toward the autocratic and
an unmistakable exaltation of rank.
AS we have said, the present day
novel deals almost entirely with
homeland scenes and characters.
Very little of the battlefield is re-
flected. Whispered good-byes. the
call to arms and partings at the
garden gate are pictures that arouse
the readers Imagination and bring
a tear to his eye. They are SC
natural. But the point we wish to
combat is the tendency to make all
the leading characters officers and
the heroines daughters of million
aires. This is not akin to the
great democracy of our army. In
your typical modern war novel, the
daughter of well-known manu-
facturer goes to a summer resort
near a big camp. There she meets
a young Lieutenant, and the stor,
begins: The old man will not give
his consent for her to become a wal
bride, and the plot thickens. In the
end, after many escapades and in
cidents, they are married by the
village preacher and the book wind:
up like this: 1.-TWO Lieutenants
wearing their braid and croix d.
guerre Though they have never
been acrosss) stepped to each side
and crossed their swords. Then t.
the strains of a war march the bride
and groom walked forth under thu
military arch and out of the brida
hall. Under the kisses of the stars
and moon he told his young wifi
goodbye, sailing the next morn fol
the fields of bleeding France"
In this vein are the war-roman
ces written. 1t is always a Lieu
tenant-never a Captain nor Colo
nell, while the poor Sergeant o.
private has no show at all. A Lieu
tenant is usually college-traine'
man and to be thus trained usual.
betokens wealthy parents. 81
there is class distinction. We ris'
to question. Is there not as mucl
romance about our common farme
boy leaving his little blue-eye'
sweetheart weeping beneath tn
4 alarv xr;naco Or tba yaup,