New-York tribune., 1922-10-01

T ASH as the statement may ap-
| n pear at first sight, there is ne
| "a living writer who more COM
HI "a Pletely proves the magic in
=, herent in style, or if you will
the plain everyday uses Of that de-
bated quality, than William j. Locke
Not that style is his sole merit; he
has number, but all the others are
pretty evenly balanced by their defects
+. For. instance, he is never at a loss
Tor well-turned plot, but it turns
main issues Of real life. He has a
marvellous knack Of, graphic presenta.
tion Of the exterior Of his creatures
SO that one never forgets nor mixes
up his people; they are always easily
identified by mora" than their mere
names-and that is not so common
an accomplishment as may be supposed
offhand. Yet he has no deep grasr
Of character; never does he indecently
bare a soul, nor give an exposition of
human being growing as 1t were q
tree, inevitably, from certain seed
in certain soil.
= His people are orchids, hothouse
plants, even when he is pleased to call
them, vagabonds or robustious swash-
| bucklers; cold blast Of reality would
wither them in an instant. And while
he never fails to provide them with
entertaining talk, has ever q grain Of
wit and gentle humor to save them
from banality, yet he does not deal in
ideas in the weightier sense of the
term. His pages are always en-
broidered with quaint touches Of
| erudition, tastefully apt quotations
from half-forgotten poets and schol-
ars; yet they have no intellectual
content. The catchwords of the day
are to him ths eternal verities; there
is no philosophy implicit in his books,
nothing below the glittering surface
is deep and genuine feeling for
romance, for those rose-colored illu-
sions which are as true as they are
insubstantial and feetng.
That and his polished style are what
save him from being just a first-class
second-rate spinner Of yarns. But they
do save him, beyond question: not here
after, but here and now. His work
fully deserves its immediate popular
ity; and some of those authors who
are already being earnestly recon-
mended to posterity-perhaps as des-
from him If they would or could.
Nor need one go to his best novels
for the lesson. He never falls below
his own standard. If "The Tale of
Triona" is not quite so good as GER
tain of its predecessors, that is merely
because there Is less Of it; a differ
ence in degree, not in kind. 1t is a
smaller canvas, and the story is in
some measure worked over from an
earlier one, done in reverse Jaffery,"
l think it was, had as part Of it's
machinery poor wretch who stole and
published as his own dead mans book.
Later. remorse and sheer inability to
write anything of his own drove him to
suicide. But he was minor parsonage.
Alexis Triona is the hero in this case.
Triona did much the same thing. But
he had it in him to do good work on
his own account. Triona was a born
romancer, and only cribbed his raw
material. 1t was rather as if Dumas
had chosen to pass himself off as D.
Artagnan. and circumstances had en-
abled him to do SO; for there really
was D'Artagnan, captain of the
Kings Guards, and his memoirs fur
nlshed the basis of Dumas immortal
Three Musketeers."
Triona's real name was John Briggs:
one can scarcely blame him for chang
ing it. He is an engaging hero. in
spite. OF his imposture. He had an Itch
ing foot, taste for adventure, which
LED him, by no easy stages. from the
dreary workman's cottage at Tyneside.
where he was bred, to the post of
courier-chauffeur and confidential serv-
ant extraordinary in the household Of