Spiekerman searches the English history plays of Shakespeare, which involve King John, Richard II, Henry IV, and Henry V, for the Bard's treatment of these enduring issues. In doing so, Spiekerman rejects historicist claims by influential contemporary literary critics that his search is implausible because the era in which Shakespeare wrote was so different from our own. Along the way Spiekerman offers some provocative insights. Among them is that Shakespeare does not completely accept or reject Machiavellianism. On the one hand, the author argues, Shakespeare shares Machiavelli's position that the thirst for power is more central to politics than the desire for justice. He points out that none of the historical English kings treated by Shakespeare comes close to being a genuinely moral person. At the same time Spiekerman contends that, unlike Machiavelli, Shakespeare feels there are important moral aspects to politics as well. According to Spiekerman, the subjects of these historical monarchs exhibit a deeply held passion to be governed by morally superior rulers, even if such rulers are rarely found.

Less illuminating is the analogy chosen by Spiekerman to explain the relationship of subjects to rulers who claim that their power and legitimacy derive from divine right. He favorably compares that relationship to the mystical bond connecting children to their biological father. Spiekerman apparently wants readers to understand that the question of political legitimacy sometimes incorporates extrarational qualities. Yet, one can only wonder why he lends any credence whatsoever to the paternalistic mentality that tyrants habitually exploit to sanction their oppressive regimes.

In his anthology of eighteen generally thoughtful essays, Edmondson describes Shakespeare's Henry V as a virtuous leader, a statesman, and the ideal Christian king. By Edmondson's estimation, it is during his famous soliloquy on the eve of Agincourt that Shakespeare most clearly portrays the depths of Henry's ethical character. In contrast, Spiekerman considers the soliloquy to be unremarkable ethically because it fails to include a moral justification for the invasion of France, which is a patriotic ruse to support his family's controversial right to rule.

Another essay in The Moral of the Story, by Alan Levine, investigates the novels of Chinua Achebe in an attempt to understand the personal and political consequences of moral idealism. In Achebe's Things Fall Apart (1958) and No Longer at Ease (1960), Levine discovers persuasive evidence that expecting persons, cultures, and governments to be too rational and moral can be just as destructive as a more cynical view. Politics has the potential for executing some important public functions, but it certainly is not a panacea for our ills, Levine interprets Achebe as saying. The most profound success we can achieve in combating ignorance, superstition, and injustice must come from education and from within ourselves, if it is to come at all.

Also in the Edmondson volume is an essay by Michael Platt, whose otherwise excellent treatment of prudential leadership in Joseph Conrad's “The Secret Sharer” employs an unfortunate illustration. Platt notes the crucial role of vision in prudence and argues that certain self-proclaimed freedom-loving Texas officials acted imprudently when they balked at providing local hospitality for injured Afghan Mujahadeem they had helped transport to Dallas hospitals in the early 1980s. Platt wonders why the officials hesitated to support those then engaged in the active struggle against Soviet totalitarianism. Yet, even if we recoil with Platt from their hypocrisy, is it not acutely shortsighted of the author to advocate unconditional acceptance of a group that twenty years later is guilty of providing financial and military support for international terrorism?

Despite such relatively minor difficulties, these volumes represent noteworthy additions to the growing literature on the relationship between art and politics. By depicting human beings as complex, three-dimensional figures, Spiekerman and Edmondson suggest, great artists can remind political scientists to avoid reductionism in their empirical research. By providing compelling examples of how abstract philosophical concepts influence the daily lives of citizens, the authors contend, great artists can enhance our understanding of political theory. In his contributions to the Edmondson anthology, Gregory R. Johnson thus consults the novels of Jane Austen and Flannery O'Connor in order to gain a deeper appreciation of Aristotle's ideal of magnanimity or greatness of soul.