Dramatic poetry, in which the form of a play or drama is used, has always been chosen for the deepest and most majestic presentations of the problems and wonders of human life. The dramatic poets of the ancients as well as those of modern times rank among the most far-seeing thinkers and ablest writers of the world. No philosopher or historian has ever been able to reach the people or express the profoundest reflections so readily and forcibly.
The tragedies of Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles, with those of Shakespeare and the "Faust" of Goethe, are the highest achievements in literature; their effect, from the stage, is instantaneous, and even in reading them the mind receives a direct impression of wonder and awe not elsewhere given. The Greek tragedies mentioned above have for their underlying theme the power of relentless fate, the inevitable omnipotence of right, and the final destruction of wrong and falsehood. In these and "Macbeth," "Hamlet," and "King Lear" the mastery of plot and action is superb; the play gathers force and momentum until the catastrophe sweeps down upon the evil-doers and unfortunates like a tidal wave. Yet each step in its progress, even the least trifle, is so natural as to seem unavoidable. Here is the proof of the poet's genius, in that he selects the message to be presented to his audience or readers, chooses his characters, and outlines his plot, then combines the three elements with such skill and with such inspiration as to leave an effect of perfect truth and actuality. Aristotle, the ancient philosopher and critic, declared that the very souls of the audience were cleansed and rid of pettiness and self-seeking by beholding such works as these; that the spectacle of disaster brought down upon men by their own vanity and wrong-doing, and portrayed in language of such vivid grandeur, was the most impressive means of reaching the hearts of men.
In addition to the authors mentioned above, Calderon, Jonson, Lessing, Marlowe, Molière, Racine, Rostand, and Schiller have made notable contributions to the poetic drama. (See also [Drama, p. 49.])
FICTION
The practice of telling tales of love and heroism is older than history itself. Ever since men sat about the fire of an evening and recited the deeds of their chieftains or extolled the beauty of their princesses, in other words, ever since the days when poetry first began, stories and tales have been handed down, first by word of mouth, then by carvings and inscriptions and at last by writing and printing. The first fiction was a simple, imaginative invention of adventure, told to pass the time. Æsop's "Fables" and Apuleius's "Story of Cupid and Psyche," ancient as they are, show the progress already made in the art of narration, the one simple and insistent in its purpose of teaching common sense by whimsical anecdotes, the other a delicately artistic legend told with exquisite grace. In "Jewish Literature" the story of Tobit's wonderful adventures at once calls to mind the "Arabian Nights," which were of similar origin, told by professional story-tellers for centuries before they were finally written down and translated for our perpetual delight.
The novel, a new feature in fiction, shows its first faint beginnings in the tumult and enthusiasm of the Renaissance, that strenuous age of new ideas and discoveries. Cervantes in writing "Don Quixote" had a definite purpose in mind beyond mere entertainment; the passing of the age of chivalry and the pathos and humor of life form the true subject of his tale. Bunyan in the "Pilgrim's Progress" shows the same intent of doing something more than providing interesting reading; the growth of a noble character through struggle and temptation on the journey through life is the central thought of his work. His hero, Christian, changes in character, becoming a stronger, better man as the story goes on. Defoe's Robinson Crusoe goes through much of the same evolution. And this is the underlying principle of the novel, that it has a purpose beyond simple story-telling, possessing a plot or unified succession of incidents, with actors whose characters develop. It is a picture of human life, with strength and weakness, happiness and misery, all bound together and forming a united and well-proportioned whole.
However, it was not until Addison and Steele, in the "Spectator" essays, had shown such skill in drawing characters and depicting manners and customs that the time was ripe for the true novel to appear. For one of the chief duties of the novel is to criticize life, to furnish comment on the social conditions and tendencies of the day. Among the earliest and also the greatest of the English novelists, Fielding, whose work appeared about thirty years after the "Spectator," not only draws sturdy and truthful pictures of the life of his day, but also makes the reader see the true value of that life and estimate its good and its bad qualities. In the same way Dickens and Thackeray, not very long after, supplied unending amusement and fun for the world and at the same time did far more by making the nations sit up and think, pointing out with almost brutal clearness the need of unselfish action and the love of truth and simplicity. There is not a novel of high rank but contains more than meets the eye at first glance. It is the readiest means of putting a critical estimate of history, of life and society, directly before the world.
NOVELS AND GENERAL FICTION