A fourth craving, which is as general as fingers and toes, is for
revenge. We laugh now at the plays of revenge before "Hamlet,"
where the stage ran blood, and even the movie audience no longer
enjoys a story the single motive of which is physical revenge.
Blood for blood means to us either crime or rowdyism. And yet
revenge is just as popular in literature now as in the sixteenth
century. Only its aspect has changed. Our fathers are not
butchered in feuds, our sons are not sold into slavery, and except
in war or in street robberies we are not insulted by brute
physical force. Nevertheless we are cheated by scoundrels,
oppressed by financial tyranny, wounded by injustice, suppressed
by self-sufficiency, rasped by harsh tempers, annoyed by snobbery,
and often ruined by unconscious selfishness. We long to strike
back at the human traits which have wronged us, and the satiric
depiction of hateful characters whose seeming virtues are turned
upside down to expose their impossible hearts feeds our craving
for vicarious revenge. We dote upon vinegarish old maids, self-
righteous men, and canting women when they are exposed by
narrative art, and especially when poetic justice wrecks them. The
books that contain them bid for popularity. It happens that in
rapid succession we have seen three novels in which this element
of popular success was strong: Miss Sinclair's "Mr. Waddington of
Wyck," "Vera," by the author of "Elizabeth in Her German Garden," and
Mr. Hutchinson's "If Winter Comes." The first two books focus
upon this quality, and their admirable unity gives them superior
force; but it is noteworthy that "If Winter Comes," which adds
other popular elements in large measure to its release of hate,
has been financially the most successful of the three.