davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30

deryest. To carry the contrast still
further, it has nothing Of the snap
shot, on the one hand, nor the seal
pel and the dissecting table on the
other. repeat, it is the most mod
est of statements; but every stroke
as in the most skillful Of etching, be-
ing in the right place. the magma
tion is stimulated to evolve from II
the whole history Of the miserable
Armytage. Struggle, defeat, pow
erty. the fight for life, the pltlful
roguery-all is suggested as it were
upon the bitten plate. The trousers
Of a t,ceed suit. There is the learned
stroke. The garnet pin ornament
ing the wrong portion Of a made-up
tie is eloquent enough, but the
trousers ot a tWeed suit in conJunc-
ton with the frockcoat-out,o OF date
and shiny at its elbows, as we are
allowed to suspects the supreme
touch"
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
HIS LAST RENDEZVOUS-A French Story

fontaine was so affected that he
couldn't speak TO her at once. And
Nine. Desaulniers passed by him.
looked at him with indifference and
continued her walk. Not for sec.
oad had the idea entered her head
that this elderly man, with a plaid
cn his arm, was he to whom She
had given a rcndezyous---was he
whom she loved
"Shc didn't recognize me-" said
Prefon,ainc. under his breath. ".
am too Old"
Tears Of despair came 20 the cl.
derl} authors eyes. The young
woman walked to the end Of the
terrace and leaned on the low wall
as If awaiting somebody. She
watched the rude and lofty sierra
and, down there in the distance
Madrld sparkling in the sun.
VI. de Prefontaine, with bent head
left the promenade. There was moth.
ing to do but go. His hour had
struck. Life was no longer any.
thing for him but a blur. He didnY
want to witness the shock which
Nine. Desaulniers would experienc,
Il she recognized him. So far a. h.
was concerned. everything was over
For the last time Guy de prefon
tame turned around. He saw th,
!ouhg Diana, proud and pens,vs
her figure detaching itself agains,
the still frightening sky. He file,
his eyes with that fugitive v;,or
Then hs fed.
] 1t was his last rsndssyous.
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
His Method

HAVE used the expression ''etcied, and this express
sion indicates, in opinion the most chnracerisfic
feature and the hchcaier mark OF Mr. Merricks genius.
He does ,ofh his pen cha fine echer does ,eith his
needle Working in far different medium, he gires
the special qualities Of the etched ine-is anin,non
its spontaneousness, its rare economy.
'Erery stroke he makes tells strongly against him il
it be bad' says Seymour Haden OF the echer, ''or
prores him to be master if it be good In branch Of
does a touch 60 for much The necessity for rigid
selection is therefore constantly present TO his n,ind
stroke in the right place tells for him than
the ,rrong, could joilo that that single stroke
is more learned stroke than the Of ten BY tcch
he ,could haze arrived AZ his end
Adapt these 10 'he of the norel ,rriic and
Hr Ncrrich emcrgcs from ihc frium phnnfi,.
ARTHUR Y. rINfNO
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30

catch the CLEAN Of gold and has
turned a deaf ear to writer who,
according to no less an authority
than Mr.. Howells. outdoes the
French and equals the Russians in
realism!
How account for it? One bumps
suuarely up against literary
puzzle-a puzzle which has really
puzzled, and TO the solution OF
which many keenly critical minds
have bent their talents. A recent
writer in "The New Republic ad-
dresses himself to the problem. Mr.
Merrick's publishers, E. P. Dutton &
Co., are getting out an edition OF his
works with introductions from such
we'll known English authors as
Pinero. Barrie. Wells. Chesterton,
". ]. Locke. Maurice Hewlett and
others-and one by our own Amerl-
can novelist and essaylst, William
Dean Howels. Here, says the re-
viewer in "The New Republic we
have the spectacle of "a group OF
famous contemporaries banded to-
pether to see man through. And
it is even more interesting to lind
one question that seems - either
openly said or lurking in their
minds--to trouble them all. Why is
il that Mr.. Leonard Merrick is not
more popular? Why is novelist
SO perfect in his art, why is a
writer of works that possess such
singular shapeliness,' TO use Mr..
Howells's phrase, not more widely
read? As Barrie says, They have
an uneasy feeling that if the public
will not like his works, will not take
his works to their hearts, there
must be something wrong with the
popularity Of their own.
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
Finally, Says Barrie

Sir James NJ. Barrie. writing Of
still another book, Conrad in
Qucs: Of His Youth" declares:
"The novel readers who have
gone and died without ever know
ing of the sentimental quest of Con-
rad we may drop a sigh
for them or Serve sou right ac-
cording to their opportunities. In
complete lives There is
no ono with greater arf If telling
story. Il that art consists IN MAX
ing us forever wonder what We ar,
to tird on the next page. There AZ
r hundred surprises il Conrad
Even when you have Travelled wit
him FAR and know precisely in whs
circumstances he is next to be-
placed, ghut the book and ask Your
self what ;s to happen and YOU viii
find that you don't know in ihc
least; twenty lines from thc close
you have 10 idea how tho story j.
10 end. When we come o.
the end we must feel that there wa.
no other, that he has merely die
covered the truth
And in another place he say,
"Disagreeing among themselves
Oh most matters they
M. Merrick's fellow uritersI arc
agreed On this, that Mr.. Mcrrick is
one Of the flowers Of their calling.
Compared to many Of his CON-
temporarics he is quite n gay dog.
.aarH' shining constantly in hi.
pages and fine serenity: instead o.
setting forth 10 make his character
miserable be Is so much in sympathy
with them that / can think Of no
noveilst who spends more time--it
IS almost divertingly obvious--in
seeking a happy way out for them.
There is no one with a greater
art of telling story, il that art
consists in making us forever won
dor what We are to find on the n,xt
page.
"A new novel by Leonard Mer-
rick IS to me one Of the events Of
tic year"
And now we have reserved q Bit
OF good news for the last. Accord.
ing to Mr.. Msrrick's publisher, the
perplexing puzzle 10 in process Of
becoming academic. That is. il be-
gins to want for sctualty. In still
palmer words. Merrlck has becom,
al length = seller-and good
seller. The incomprchensible pub
hc begins to warm and, IN the
words Of the publisher himself. "is
sslnae Tor this collected sSitien
I'assss than ~ can supply it,
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
But the Tide Begins to Turn,
and Novelist Enters
Into His Own

Walter Lorraine? Would anybody
give twopence to read it? The rea-
son is that in the poet the mani
festations Of literary genius are d.
rect and explicit--some are sus-
ceptible Of quotation, some may be
cut out with the. scissors-whlle IN
the novelist they are oblique ana
implied. Humphrey Kent in Gym
thia' is in 10 sense an explicit
genius; we are not, in fact, tod
that he was genius at all. His
technique seems to have been ths'
Of Mr. George Moore, then rather
fashionable. The book puts 1t no
higher than this: that the hero, with
an obvious bent for writing, marries
in a hurry and then finds out that
he cannot lie an honest man and
support his wife and child by the
same stroke. 1t is not whether he
can be good novelist and good
lover, too, but whether he can be
o good novelist and pay his bills.
That's not very exciting, though
George Gissing, in New GRUB
Street drew out Of it a squalid
and miserable tale which, once be-
gun. had to be finished. Luckily, IN
Cynthia Mr.. Merrick finds a sec
ondary theme, and handles it so
delicately and SO tenderly that the
book has an abiding charm because
Of it. That theme is the growth
Of Cynthia's soul.
II myself am one Of CYNTHIA
victims, and | am sure that Mr..
Merrick is another. He sketches
her with admirable reticence in the
beginning. where she is shown to
US as very little more than pretty
girl. His strokes are few and sure.
But she grows from chapter 10
chapter, and at the end, after the
tragic crisis, she sweeps onward 70
the sentimental crisis which crowns
the tale of her married life with "A
dignity and grave beauty which
Justify belief in Hestia even now,
when modern practice and belief are
against such a belief. She justlfies
Mr.. Merrick's conclusion, too. II
is seldom enough that we are able
to believe in the happy solution Of
such troubles as he has traced out
in Cynthia Cynics against in
clination, we feel that the dog will
return again to his vomit after the
easy reconciliation and facile tears
upon Hestia's generous bosom. Nor
so here. Cynthia has got her Hum
phrev for what he is worth and viii
hold him. She is one Of Mr.. Mer-
rick's loveliest women; and he has
made many lovely women"
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
Like Etching

II have used the expression
etched, and this expression indi-
Gates. in my opinion, the most char
actcristic feature and the high
water mark Of Mr.. Merricks genius.
He does with his pen what fine
etchcr does wit his needle. Work
inc in a far different medium, he
gives us the special qualities Of the
etched line-its animation, its spon-
taneousness, its rare economy. Every
stroke he makes tells strongly
against him if it be bad says Scy-
mcur Haden Of the etchcr, or
proves him TO be a master If 1t be
good. In no branch Of art does a
touch 90 for so much. The necessity
for rigid selection is therefore
constantly present to his mind. If
one stroke in the right place tells
more for him than ten in the wrong,
il would seem to follow that that
single stroke is a more learned
stroke than the scores Of ten by
which he would have arrived at his
end Adapt these terms to the art
of the novel writer. and Mr.. Mer-
rick energies from the test triumph
antly.
"Take as an example of his etch-
ing method-and select it almost at
haphazard-his description Of the
personal appearance of Armytage,
the bogus manager:
1.-The advertser--who, it tran
spired, called himself Armytage-
was evidently attired for the occa-
sion. He wore a frockcoat, in COM
bination with summer waistcoat,
much crumpled, and the trousers of
a tweed suit. A garnet pin orna-
mented the wrong portion of made
up tie
"Now, this is neither impression
ish nor realism, in the sense in which
these words are banded about. 1t
is a plain, straightforward, appar-
emily effortess account Of mans
apparel, his coat, waistcoat, trousers,
necktie. 1t doesn't cry out in the
voice Of the impressionist: Look
See how clever am. how nothing
escapes me; how | obscr' IN Hash
wha: ,s hidden from The common
vision Nor does It with the large,
liberaIity OF the renlst afford IL u
glimpse Of Mr. Armytagc's zolcd un-
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
TIME sun was just rising
when Guy de Prefontaine,
glancing through the cur
tains of the car, saw that

he had arrived at his destination.
The trying night had aggravated
his rheumatism. He rubbed his
knees before he grasped his two
travelling bags and alghted on the
station platform. AT that moment.
nevertheless, the famous author
forgot his age and the dignified
retirement in which he had planned
TO spend his remaining years.
Youthful and foolish as a man of
twenty, he yielded to the intoxica-
tion Of that heady, expansive. buoy
ant mood which preccdes the keep
ing of rendezvous.
He wasn't, however, any longer
in the full bloom of his prime. To
how many similar rendezvous had
he travelled already-he, a celeb
rity, the author Of "The Ashes of
Love-" 1.-THE Southern Lights"
1.-THE Sacred Threshold! All his
life he had chanted women and
love. All his life he had pursued,
from one disillusionmcnt to an
ether, the image Of passion. He
was now on the decline in years
and in glory. People believed less
in bis star. He had himself decided
10 seek tho solitude Of . little
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30

day and still warm, although in the
second week OF October. The severe
palace Of Philip II stood before the
traveller, in its tragic solitude. At
The end Of the terrace Prcfontaine
entered the Garden where Nine.
Desaulniers was to Join him.
He paced slowly up and down the
narrow walk bordered by stiffly
trimmed box bushes. His spirits
were depressed by the shadow
of the high walls, yellowish gray,
with little windows which make one
think of a convent or a gigantic
mausoleum. If he turned to the right
he saw reservoir, cold and bare.
He began TO shiver.
1T is plain that she is young"
he reflected. What a place for a
rendezvous.
In spite Of himself he thought OF
death. That idea, which formerly
gave spice to his amorous emotions
now produced a marked uneasinesi
and a profound Encouragement
Notwithstanding. he kept on walk
'rs. his heart beating, his hand;
either icy-cold or burning. as i'm
patient and anxious Is in the days
Of his youth.
Two young skls passed, darl
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30

BARN. or such a gentle, modest, un-
selfish creature as the mother OF
Blanche Ellerton. earning her hus-
bands bread by writing the popular
novclettes which enable him to
write his unpopular novels and
despise her trash on full stomach.
Very likely Mr.. Merrick may
have had his moment Of consciously
contriving the story Of The Actor
Manager and Of actuating his
characters in conformity to pre-
conceived plan, but he does not
suffer his readers to share these
humiliating moments. For all they
know, the things happcno~ from the
nature of the characters in the
given circumstances, with no ap-
parent agency Of his
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
"Please Don't Like Me-"

"'Unless you like Merrick also.
please don't like me- II is only
natural for these authors to wonder
why a man who has carried to per-
lection the technique Of the art
should not win what they have won.
In the same way we have heard
painters wonder why Fragonard
was not more followed after.
But whatever the reason may be
for Nh. Merricks comparative lack
~ following, | should object to the
implication lurking behind a good
many of these comments. One gets
the impression that MIR. Merrick is
not popular because, as one of his
critics says, the artistry is so fault
less. and because he makes no con-
cessions to the taste Of the public
groundlings.' Obviously, to resort
to mawkish sentiment and to tricks
might catch for a novelist q certain
popular taste. But that does not
prove that the absence of these
faults keeps a work unpopular.
"The truth is that for laymen
form In any art is only a means that
conveys TO them the content. They
have no conscious sense or enjoy
ntnt Of form IN itself As a matter
Of fact, form is a kind Of separate
dialect that belongs to each individ
ual art. And people may be cult
vsted to enjoy form in itself; there
10 no doubt of that. They may be
taught to see that every art has it.
conditions, the rules Of the game
~ . sport IN athletics has. BUT Mr
Meyrick 10 not like Flaubert in hav
ing public that is cultivated in thai
particular sort Of thing. Clearly
then, there may not be a large
enough public capable Of admirins
NJ. Nsrrick's novels on account Of
THAR adnirable form. But certainly
fsw people could fail to like them be-
cause Of it.
ut may be also that there is a
certain irony in these novels that
hurts their popularity; together with
~ fset, % Mr.. Howells sugeests.
~ - stegiss ssA almost always
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30

house. on the borders of wood.
to write his memoirs.
But Nine. Desaulniers had drawn
him out of his retreat.
Guy Ge Prefontaine arrived at
the hotel. After choosing his room
and changing his clothes he seated
himself by the window from which
he could see the austere, tan-colored
sierra. Then he opened his bag and
looked for photograph. 1t showed
the face Of woman, with proud and
delicate features, and mouth
shaped like a bow. He gazed at it
for long time.
He had received one day a charm
ing letter from Spain. In it wom-
an told the ilustrious author of her
admiration for him, in terms so ex.
alted and at the same time SO in.
genuous-with as much candor as
intelligence-that he had answered,
bored as he had often been by mis-
sives Of that character. An intimate
correspondence ensued, at first
friendly. then gallant and finally
amorou..
The unknown's name was Nine.
Dcsaulniers. She lived near Madrid,
where her husband was the director
Of 4 large factory. She felt some.
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
EONARD MERRICK has
long been dear to the hearts
} Of the reviewers, just as he
has long been called, par

exc e | ence, the
novelists' novelist.
So far so good.
But how account
for the fact that
until very recently
the great reading
public has appar-
emily failed t Q
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
Vhy Hasn't Leonard Merrick Been NIore OP'""'

in the recollection than ! do--not
even Mr.. Mcrrick.
"But on the doorstep OF Abe
marle's or Potter's dramatic agency
Mr.. Merrick and !, so far as our
theatrical experiences 60. seem TO
part company. Chance guided me
into fairly smooth paths; Mr. Mer.
rick fortunately was to tread
rouRher ones. say fortunately
because it is to Mr.. Merrick's obvi-
ously first-hand acquaintance with
the lower grade theater that we owe
at least two quite remarkable
studies Of shady theatrical life and
characteristic novel to which these
few words are prefxed and the
before mentioned When Love Flies
Out O. the Window Though my
experiences may have differed from
Mr.. Merrick's, I have seen enough
of the seamy side OF the stage to
enable me to vouch for the truth
of these two works.
Short as it is, you have the very
spirit of Mr.. Merrick's literary gift
and method--conciseness and case.
He will reveal in a seemingly care
less half-sentence what another
writer will take a page over or will
heavily underscore. Not for Mr..
Merrick is the labored analysis
analysis run mad in some cases
Of many of our modern novelists,
nor the loud devices OF the delloer'
ate sensationalist.
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30
Says Mr.. Ho,ceHs-

Says Mr.. HOTeits-
For an amplifcation Of this hint
we turn to Mr.. Howells's introduc-
ton to "The Actor Manager" And
we read:
"Of the two arch-enemies Of love,
prosperity and adversely, he makes
the oftener study Of adversely. There
is a great deal of grim adversely in
his books, which sometimes remains
adversely to the end, but also some
times puts off its frown. 1t is the
more depressing when it becomes or
remains the atmosphere of that am
bition which seeks fruition in the
successes Of the theater. If we are
to believe him-and somehow Mr..
Merrick mostly makes you believe
him-the poor creatures-mostly
poor women creatures-who are try
ing to get upon the stage are almost
without number, and certainly out
number the struggling journalists
and authors a hundred to one. The
spectacle of their humility and hu-
initiation, of their meek endeavors
and their cruel defeats, is of such
frequent recurrence in his novels
and tales that, after little knowl-
edge of them, one approaches the
scene with an expectation of heart
ache through which nothing short
Of the mastery dealing with them
would support one.
"In the monotony Of the event 1t
is very remarkable how he distln-
guishes and charactorizes the diff
ferent children of adversely. es-
pecially the daughters. They are
commonly alike in their adversely.
but individual in their way of eX-
periencing it. In fact, in an age
of intensely feminized fiction. he is
one of the first of those who know
how to catch the likenesscs, tc the
last fieeting expression, of women,
and especially women Of the theater.
Probably these are not essentially
different from any other women. but
they have an evolution through
their environment which no one
else seems to have studied so we'll.
Sometimes they are good women
and sometimes they are bad, but
they are so far from a temperament
differently affected by their errant
and public life, their starved or
surfeited vanity, their craze for
change or variety, and they keep a
simplicity. singleness, in their self
ishness and depravity such as diff
ferentiates them from women bred
amid the artificialities Of the
world on the other side OF the foot
lights.
"There is no perceptible mecha-
nism in the story Of The Actor Man
ager.' in every way the best of Mr.
Merrick's stories, so far as | know
them.
Alive
"At all moments Of it you fee
that it happened and that thc peoplr
in it are alive, with a lfc of human
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30

probabilities beyond It. can re-
call no English novel in which the
study Of temperament or character
is carried deeper, allowing for what
the people are, and do not re-
member a false or mistaken line or
color in it. For anything to equal
it we must 20 to the Slavs, in such
triumphs Of their naturalness as
Turgenev's Smoke or the So
ciety passages of Tolstoy's War and
Peace The French stories are
conventional in their naturalism be-
side it; perhaps a Spaniard like
Galdos has done work Of equal fine
ness. 1t is not alone in Royce Oil
phant, with the stress Of his heredi-
tary conscience, or in Blanche Eller-
ton, depraved both by her artistry
and by her ambition, that the au-
thor convinces; Otho Fairbairn,
who becomes the 'scoundreP that
Blanche not less deliberately than
historically makes him for his
money, and Alma King, who is as
good an artist as Blanche and yet
good woman, and Blanche's
mother, whose sentimental novelettes
support her contemptuous husband
in the production Of his real but
understandable masterpieces, ana
Blanche's plain sister, with ner
famine for a little love, a little ad-
miration from men. are all in their
several ways entirely lifelike.
"The theater itself, which began
as a theater Of art and ended as
theater of profit, has almost a
human appeal in its tragedy, as II
il we're a senticnt organism. with
q heart to be broken and a soul to
be lost. Nobody who is not in
evitably bad is very bad; in the
book the world is the world we
live in.
"Why. then. is not this mastery
novelist master universally recog-
nized and accepted? That is some
thing that | have asked myself more
than once, especially in reading the
criticisms of his several books, not
one of which has lacked the praise
Of some critic qualified to carry
conviction of its merit Perhaps the
secret is that the stories are almost
always unhappy There is no con-
ISOLATION in their tragedy; they do
not even raise a noble terror such
as was once the supposed business
Of tragedy. Upon the whole they
leave YOU feeling mean. feeling re-
troactively capable of the shabby
things which have been done in
them.
another secret may be that when
the poverty which haunts them is
relieved in this case or that, you
are left with a sense of the vast
poverty still remaining in the world ;
if a struggler is given a chance to
get his breath the great struggle of
life goes on.
"Still another secret may be that
there is no fine world, no great
world in the books; we scarcely re-
call parsonage or title in any of
them, and people who like to asso-
ciate with the rich or great when
they are taken out Of themselves
have not the company Of so much
as one high-born villain, one corrupt
grdnde dame.
Socially it is not good company
we find ourselves in, and morally il
is not even the best company b:
Jane Austen calls it; and yet it i.
somehow consoling, somehow en-
couraging to have known such s
good and clever man as Royce Oil
phant. such a good. yet gfted
woman as Alma King even such {
kind, wrongdoing soul as Otho Fair
New-York tribune., 1919-11-30

what lonely and very much unoccu-
pied. She read a great deal--espe-
cially Performances works. She had
seen many of MS photographs. Bu,
che didn't know that for many years
he had allowed none 20 be published.
except those taken in his fortieth
year, in which he still looked hand
some and vigorous, with his thick
hair, his strong features and his im-
posing mustachios. Moreover, cell
ebrated author, who writes Of love
always seems to his women readers
to possess eternal youth.
So it was that at the solicitation
of Nine. Desaulniers, after two
years of correspondence. Guy de
Prefontaine, ancient pilgrim of love
had set out for Spain. To tell the
truth, he feared little a first
meeting with this young woman
Didn't she have a far too fictitious
idea Of him? But he found some
consoling arguments. He had grown
old without noticing it. He fiat
tered himself that Mme. pdsauinier.
wouldn't notice it, either.
The rendezvous was for 4 o'clock
At half-past three he started fol
| the Escuriai. Il was q beautiful