Character Sketches of Romance, Fiction and the Drama, Vol. 3: A Revised American Edition of the Reader's Handbook

The Story

The narrative arc of Character Sketches of Romance, Fiction and the Drama is not one of a linear plot, but rather an architectural journey through the shared consciousness of literature. As a revised American edition of E. Cobham Brewer’s Reader’s Handbook, the volume functions as a grand map of the human imagination, structured alphabetically to allow readers to navigate the vast terrain of global fiction, drama, and folklore. The "story" of this book is the story of how culture preserves its most meaningful archetypes.

The volume begins its progression by establishing a rigorous, scholarly framework. Unlike a modern dictionary that might offer brief, dry definitions, Brewer’s work constructs a narrative for each entry. The structural movement of the book is designed to provide context before detail. It starts with the primary name or concept, followed by a succinct identification of the source material—whether it be a Shakespearean play, a Norse myth, a Victorian novel, or a historical chronicle. From there, the text unfolds into a detailed summary of the character’s role, their symbolic weight, and their relationship to other figures in the literary pantheon.

As the reader moves through the pages, the book reveals a fascinating "arc" of cross-cultural synthesis. It does not isolate English literature; rather, it weaves together threads from French romances, German legends, Italian epics, and classical Greek and Roman dramas. The progression of the text demonstrates how a single idea—such as the "unlucky gift" or the "doomed lover"—evolves as it passes through different hands and eras. For instance, the book may trace a character from an ancient oral tradition into a medieval ballad, and finally into a nineteenth-century stage play. This creates a sense of historical momentum, showing the reader that literature is a continuous conversation.

The middle sections of the volume serve as the dense, rich core of the work, where the entries become more expansive. Here, Brewer includes not just characters, but also "plots" of major works and explanations of literary allusions. The progression here is thematic. The book shifts from simple identification to a deeper exploration of motifs. One might find an entry on a specific historical king followed immediately by a fictional character who shares his traits, thereby blurring the lines between history and myth. This structure serves to show that in the world of the Reader’s Handbook, the "truth" of a character lies in their resonance with the audience rather than their factual existence.

Furthermore, the book incorporates a visual and illustrative arc. By including engravings and full-page plates, the volume adds a layer of dramatic interpretation to the textual summaries. These illustrations act as "scenes" in the book’s narrative, giving a face to the names and a setting to the legends. The reader is not just told about the madness of Lear or the nobility of Cid; they are shown these figures in moments of high emotion, reinforcing the book’s purpose as a companion to the "Drama" as much as to "Romance."

As the volume reaches its conclusion, the "story" it tells is one of immense cultural consolidation. It gathers the fragments of thousands of years of storytelling and organizes them into a coherent, accessible whole. The arc ends not with a resolution, but with an invitation. By providing the origins and parallels of these characters, Brewer empowers the reader to become an active participant in literary history. The structure suggests that every character is a door to another story, and every allusion is a link in a chain that connects the modern reader to the ancient past. The book is, in essence, a biography of the human spirit as expressed through the written word, meticulously indexed for the curious mind.

The People

While the book contains thousands of entries, several key figures and categories illustrate its vast scope. One representative "person" in this volume is the archetype of the tragic hero, often exemplified by figures like Lear or Othello. Brewer does not merely describe their actions but delves into their psychological makeup and the specific literary devices that define them. For example, he might detail the exact nature of a character’s "flaw," grounding the abstract concept in the specific verses of the playwright.

Another significant group of "people" within the text are the mythological figures, such as Siegfried or Brunhild. Here, the book serves as a translator of ancient systems of belief. It treats these figures with the same gravity as historical personages, detailing their supernatural feats and their symbolic roles in the Norse or Teutonic traditions. By placing a Norse deity alongside a Dickensian clerk, Brewer creates a democratic space where the power of the character’s story is the only metric of their importance.

Historical figures who have been transformed by fiction represent a third vital category. Figures like Richard Coeur de Lion or Mary, Queen of Scots appear not as they do in dry history books, but as they have been reimagined by poets and novelists like Sir Walter Scott. Brewer tracks these transformations, showing how the "person" of history becomes the "character" of romance. He notes where the fiction diverges from the fact, providing a dual biography that honors both the man and the myth.

Finally, the book includes allegorical and symbolic figures—characters who are not people at all, but personifications of virtues, vices, or social forces. Figures like Una from The Faerie Queene or various incarnations of Death and Time are dissected to show how authors use characterization to explore philosophical ideas. These entries demonstrate that the "people" of literature are often vessels for the author’s deepest convictions about morality and the human condition. In Brewer’s hands, these figures become living entities, their "lives" documented through the myriad books in which they have appeared.

In Its Own Voice

The voice of the book is one of scholarly authority tempered by a deep love for the material. It often utilizes direct quotation to capture the essence of a character. For example, in describing the nature of a specific literary type, Brewer might write:

"A man of such a nature that he would 'smile and smile and be a villain,'"

using the language of Shakespeare to clarify a moral category. This technique allows the literature to speak for itself while Brewer provides the necessary framing.

In another instance, when tracing a motif, the book observes:

"This story, which is common to the folk-lore of all nations, finds its most perfect expression in the medieval romances of the Round Table."

Here, the voice is that of a comparative mythologist, seeking the common thread that binds disparate cultures. The tone is precise, yet it possesses a rhythmic quality that mirrors the epic poems it catalogs.

The book also frequently provides exact plot summaries that reflect the dramatic sensibilities of the nineteenth century:

"Finding himself betrayed, the hero retreats to the wilderness, where his madness becomes a mirror of the storm-tossed elements around him."

Such passages show that Brewer is not just an indexer; he is a narrator who understands the emotional weight of the stories he describes. The language is elevated and formal, yet it remains accessible, designed to be read by the student and the gentleman scholar alike.

What It's Really About

At its core, Character Sketches of Romance, Fiction and the Drama is an exercise in cultural preservation and intellectual synthesis. It is about the belief that literature is a unified, coherent world that can be mapped and understood. In an era before digital search engines, Brewer sought to provide a "universal key" to the vast library of human thought. The book is really about the interconnectedness of stories; it posits that no character exists in a vacuum, but is instead part of a long lineage of reimagining and retelling.

The work functions as a defense of the imagination. By documenting the "lives" of fictional characters with the same rigor one might apply to a biographical dictionary of famous statesmen, Brewer asserts that the people of fiction are just as real, and just as influential, as the people of history. The book is about the power of the archetype—the way a single figure, like a "Cinderella" or a "Don Quixote," can capture a universal human experience and hold it steady across centuries and borders.

Furthermore, the book is an interpretive guide that seeks to bridge the gap between the author’s intent and the reader’s understanding. It is about decoding the "shorthand" of literature. When an author alludes to a character or a myth, they are relying on a shared cultural vocabulary. Brewer’s work is the dictionary of that vocabulary. It is about ensuring that the richness of a metaphor or the depth of a character’s lineage is not lost on the reader. In this sense, it is an act of pedagogical service, designed to make the world’s greatest literature more legible and more resonant for a general audience. It is about the democratizing of knowledge, taking the esoteric references of the ivory tower and making them available to the public.

Why Read It Today

In the modern era, where information is often fragmented and fleeting, Brewer’s volume offers a rare sense of depth and continuity. While a quick internet search can provide a basic fact, it rarely offers the nuanced literary context that Brewer provides. Reading this book today is an act of reclaiming the cultural heritage that informs modern storytelling. For writers, students, and lovers of literature, it serves as a profound source of inspiration, revealing the deep roots of the tropes and characters that continue to populate our movies, novels, and games.

The book offers a unique window into the Victorian mind and its relationship to the past. It shows us what stories were considered essential and how they were interpreted by a previous generation of scholars. This historical perspective is invaluable for anyone wishing to understand the evolution of literary criticism and the shifting tastes of the reading public. Moreover, the book’s clear, warm, and precise English is a pleasure in itself—a reminder of a time when reference works were written with a sense of literary flair.

Despite the passage of time, the human archetypes documented by Brewer remain unchanged. We still grapple with the same tragedies, celebrate the same heroisms, and fear the same monsters. By spending time with this volume, a reader gains a clearer understanding of the "great conversation" of Western culture. It is a work that rewards browsing as much as targeted research, offering unexpected connections and forgotten gems on every page. Ultimately, one reads Brewer today to be reminded that while stories may change, the human impulses that create them are eternal. It is a monument to the enduring power of the word.