The Londoners, by Mr. Robert Hichens, is the lightest of soufflés, happily exempt from the fuzzy-wuzzy satire which flecked ȜThe Green Carnation and the morbid psychology which blended so inharmoniously with the cleverness of ȜFlames.ȝ Here Mr. Hichens wears the cap and bells, and with as good a grace, be it said, as did Mr. Pinero in ȜThe Magistrate șș or Mr. Jones in ȜThe Rogues Comedy.ȝ Indeed, he reopens the question whether society farces are not as effective between book covers as on the stage. Certainly there is a finer exhilaration, for the same money, in The Londoners, read at a single sitting, than in the horse-play of such a Ȝfarceș as one is likely just now to see in a New York theatre. Not only does the house party at Ascot give rise to interplay of brilliant wit, but there are situations ranging from comic to burlesque which are quite as satisfying to ones stage eye, and as provocative of laughter, as if they were visibly presented. The leading personages are Mrs. Verulam, who wished to get out of London society, and Mrs. Huskinson Van Adam, an American divorcée, who wished to get into it, and had like to have gratified both her friends and her own ambition by appearing in male attire. Her efforts at young mannishness and Mrs. Verulams demure acquiescence with scandal are most amusing. Mr. and Mrs. Lite, who rented their establishment to Mrs. Verulam during race week for the glory that would accrue to the Ȝbuns which had brought them a fortune, and indeed to Mrs. Lite the sobriquet of Ȝthe raised pieșș because of her changed social condition, were put to infinite anxiety for the welfare of their parrots, their four pugs -- Dinah, Sam, Gog, and Magog -- and their orchestrion; and neither field-glasses nor detectives nor a brace of blundering servants could keep the unwelcome guests from Ȝa rolling of the jerryaneeums and a rooting up of the roses.ȝ From this, and the fact that within fifty pages both Chloe seated herself in the darkness on a large cactus, and that pink of propriety, Rodney, reclined on a bed of angry nettles, as previously, at a stereopticon lecture, he had inadvertently sat down in a duchesss lap, may be inferred the thoroughness with which Mr. Hichens has studied horticultural discomforts and their accessibility to the awkward. Much delicacy and care, too, are bestowed on the ever fascinating topic of trousers, and each of the minor characters, from Martha Sage with her resentful double-chins, and Lady Pearl with the Ȝcooing, thunderous voiceșș inherited from her mother, to Lady Drake who ate enormously, is hit off by a rememberable characteristic. The beauty of the tale is its consistent tone of levity, unmarred by obtrusive cynicism or Ȝdogginess.ȝ That Mr. Hichens is egregiously smart is undeniable ; but his smartness will not pall on one who is content to skim the creamy froth he has provided with a correspondingly light touch. A comparison of The Londoners with Mr. Sharpșs ȜWives in Exile ȝ will show the extent of Mr. Hichens present achievement. This is a skit, pure and simple, in the presence of which Ȝanalysis should hold its merciless hand, psychology veil its piercing eye.ȝ
--The Book Buyer: A Monthly Review of American and Foreign Literature