A NOVELIST'S LETTERS.
MAURICE HEWLETT'S SELFREVELATION.
To many admirers, well-known though he be, Maurice Hewlett has not the place in English literature that he deserves, and perhaps his recently-issued "Letters," edited by Laurence Binyon, and published by Methuen and Co., will afford some explanation. Hewlett is revealed there as a man constantly looking forward and desirous of being other than a novelist, poetry being the element in which he wished to live. Possibly he ranks more as a psychologist than either. One is glad, for instance, to notice his own vehement defence of ''The Queen Quhair," for to many, besides Hewlett himself, it has seemed that his reading of Queen Mary's character was not only intensely original, but absolutely correct. It is not likely, however, that it will ever become the recognised one, any more than that other notion of Cleopatra as rather a domestic character. Hewlett's desire for the poet's bays is explained, perhaps, by the fact that his father was a minor poet, though, like the Bronte parent, only to the extent of a few published verses. Interesting biographical notes as preface by his brother Edward reveal the author as dreamy, reserved, and rather unhappy as a boy, "bored by long forced walks with the male parent, who wanted to be a comrade to his sons, and helped by a mother more humorous and sympathetic," a mother of whom it is said that, unlike most, she loved all her children equally. Most of these letters, also a diary, belong to the later part of the author's life. As is often the case, some of the best epistles are written to women. There is one, for instance, to Dr. Marie Stopes, in which lie criticises a work of hers, evidently of a poetical kind. He speaks of her writings as if they were children, and, not too obviously, advocates birth control. Amongst other correspondents are Lady Newbolt, Sir Henry Newbolt, E. V. Lucas, Clement Shorter, etc., not to mention his wife and relatives, while men and women of moment are frequently discused. We see from the correspondence that Maurice Hewlett was incurably a romantic. He took an interest in the Labour party, hut had evidently no real understanding of its policy, and, in fact, shows himself somewhat of a platitudinarian. Thus he writes to the defeated Labour candidate, Mr. Squires, in 1918: "Politics fascinate mc at times. I get swept in. But it's a trade." Then comes the epigrammatist rather than the reasoner, "Honesty is not the best politics." We may agree with Laurence Binyon in his foreword: "A politician was the last thing he could have been. His opinions would conform to no set pattern. All he cared for was (in a word) the common weal; he cared little what party was in power, so that it made an effort to that end. Chivalry was his nature's essence. He was a born crusader." There are four illustrations in this book—one of the author himself.
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Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 138, 12 June 1926, Page 40
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496A NOVELIST'S LETTERS. Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 138, 12 June 1926, Page 40
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