[Aristotle's Poetics: Introduction]
[adapted from the translation by S.H. Butcher]
[1][47a] I
propose to treat of poetry in itself and of its various kinds, noting
the essential quality of each, to inquire into the structure of the plot
as requisite to a good poem; into the number and nature of the parts of
which a poem is composed; and similarly into whatever else falls within
the same inquiry. Following, then, the order of nature, let us begin
with the principles which come first.
Epic poetry and tragedy, comedy also and dithyrambic poetry, and the
music of the flute and of the lyre in most of their forms, are all in
their general conception modes of imitation. They differ, however, from
one another in three respects - the medium, the objects, the manner or
mode of imitation, being in each case distinct.
2.1 Medium: For as there are persons who, by conscious art or
mere habit, imitate and represent various objects through the medium of
colour and form, or again by the voice; so in the arts above mentioned,
taken as a whole, the imitation is produced by rhythm, language, or
'harmony,' either singly or combined. Thus in the music of the flute and
of the lyre, 'harmony' and rhythm alone are employed; also in other
arts, such as that of the shepherd's pipe, which are essentially similar
to these. In dancing, rhythm alone is used without 'harmony'; for even
dancing imitates character, emotion, and action, by rhythmical movement.
There is another art which imitates by means of language alone, and that
either in prose or verse - which verse, again, may either [47b] combine different metres or consist of but
one kind - but this has hitherto been without a name. For there is no
common term we could apply to the mimes of Sophron and Xenarchus and the
Socratic dialogues on the one hand; and, on the other, to poetic
imitations in iambic, elegiac, or any similar metre. People do, indeed,
add the word 'maker' or 'poet' to the name of the metre, and speak of
elegiac poets, or epic (that is, hexameter) poets, as if it were not the
imitation that makes the poet, but the verse that entitles them all to
the name. Even when a treatise on medicine or natural science is brought
out in verse, the name of poet is by custom given to the author; and yet Homer and Empedocles have nothing in common but the
metre, so that it would be right to call the one poet, the other
physicist rather than poet. On the same principle, even if a writer in
his poetic imitation were to combine all metres, as Chaeremon did in his
Centaur, which is a medley composed of metres of all kinds, we
should bring him too under the general term poet.
So much then for these distinctions.
There are, again, some arts which employ all the means
above mentioned - namely, rhythm, tune, and metre. Such are dithyrambic
and nomic poetry, and also tragedy and comedy; but between them
originally the difference is, that in the first two cases these means
are all employed in combination, in the latter, now one means is
employed, now another.
Such, then, are the differences of the arts with respect to the medium
of imitation.
2.2 Object: [2] [48a] Since the objects of imitation are men in
action, and these men must be either of a higher or a lower type (for
moral character mainly answers to these divisions, goodness and badness
being the distinguishing marks of moral differences), it follows that we
must represent men either as better than in real life, or as worse, or
as they are. It is the same in painting. Polygnotus depicted men as
nobler than they are, Pauson as less noble, Dionysius drew them true to
life.
Now it is evident that each of the modes of imitation above mentioned
will exhibit these differences, and become a distinct kind in imitating
objects that are thus distinct. Such diversities may be found even in
dancing, flute-playing, and lyre-playing. So again in language, whether
prose or verse unaccompanied by music. Homer, for
example, makes men better than they are; Cleophon as they are; Hegemon
the Thasian, the inventor of parodies, and Nicochares, the author of the
Deiliad, worse than they are. The same thing holds good of
dithyrambs and nomes; here too one may portray different types, as
Timotheus and Philoxenus differed in representing their Cyclopes. The
same distinction marks off tragedy from comedy; for comedy aims at
representing men as worse, tragedy as better than in actual life.
2.3 Mode: [3] There is still a third
difference - the manner in which each of these objects may be imitated.
For the medium being the same, and the objects the same, the poet may
imitate by narration - in which case he can either take another
personality as Homer does, or speak in his own person, unchanged - or
he may present all his characters as living and moving before us.
These, then, as we said at the beginning, are the three differences
which distinguish artistic imitation - the medium, the objects, and the
manner. So that from one point of view, Sophocles is an imitator of the
same kind as Homer - for both imitate higher types of character; from
another point of view, of the same kind as Aristophanes - for both
imitate persons acting and doing. Hence, some say, the name of 'drama'
is given to such poems, as representing action. For the same reason the
Dorians claim the invention both of tragedy and comedy. The claim to
comedy is put forward by the Megarians - not only by those of Greece
proper, who allege that it originated under their democracy, but also by
the Megarians of Sicily, for the poet Epicharmus, who is much earlier
than Chionides and Magnes, belonged to that country. Tragedy too is
claimed by certain Dorians of the Peloponnese. In each case they appeal
to the evidence of language. The outlying villages, they say, are by
them called komai, by the Athenians demoi: and they assume
that comedians were so named not from komazein, 'to revel,' but
because they wandered from village to village, being excluded
contemptuously from the city. [48b] They
add also that the Dorian word for 'doing' is dran, and the
Athenian, prattein.
This may suffice as to the number and nature of the various modes of
imitation.
3.1 Origins [4] Poetry in general
seems to have sprung from two causes, each of them lying deep in our
nature. First, the instinct of imitation is implanted in man from
childhood, one difference between him and other animals being that he is
the most imitative of living creatures, and through imitation learns his
earliest lessons; and no less universal is the pleasure felt in things
imitated. We have evidence of this in the facts of
experience. Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to
contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms of
the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause of this again is,
that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers but
to men in general; whose capacity, however, of learning is more limited.
Thus the reason why men enjoy seeing a likeness is, that in
contemplating it they find themselves learning or inferring, and saying
perhaps, 'Ah, that is he.' For if you happen not to have seen the
original, the pleasure will be due not to the imitation as such, but to
the execution, the colouring, or some such other cause.
Imitation, then, is one instinct of our nature. Next,
there is the instinct for 'harmony' and rhythm, metres being manifestly
sections of rhythm. Persons, therefore, starting with this natural gift
developed by degrees their special aptitudes, till their rude
improvisations gave birth to poetry.
3.2 Early history: Poetry now diverged in two directions,
according to the individual character of the writers.
The graver spirits imitated noble actions, and the actions of good men.
The more trivial sort imitated the actions of meaner persons, at first
composing satires, as the former did hymns to the gods and the praises
of famous men. A poem of the satirical kind cannot indeed be put down to
any author earlier than Homer; though many such writers probably there
were. But from Homer onward, instances can be cited - his own
Margites, for example, and other similar compositions. The
appropriate metre was also here introduced; hence the measure is still
called the iambic or lampooning measure, being that in which people
lampooned one another. Thus the older poets were distinguished as
writers of heroic or of lampooning verse.
As, in the serious style, Homer is pre-eminent among
poets, for he alone combined dramatic form with excellence of imitation
so he too first laid down the main lines of comedy, by dramatizing the
ludicrous instead of writing personal satire. His Margites bears
the same relation to comedy that the Iliad [49a] and Odyssey do to tragedy. But when
tragedy and comedy came to light, the two classes of poets still
followed their natural bent: the lampooners became writers of comedy,
and the epic poets were succeeded by tragedians, since the drama was a
larger and higher form of art.
3.3 Tragedy: Whether tragedy has as yet perfected its proper
types or not; and whether it is to be judged in itself, or in relation
also to the audience - this raises another question. Be that as it may,
tragedy - as also comedy - was at first mere improvisation. The one
originated with the authors of the dithyramb, the other with those of
the phallic songs, which are still in use in many of our cities. tragedy
advanced by slow degrees; each new element that showed itself was in
turn developed. Having passed through many changes, it found its natural
form, and there it stopped.
Aeschylus first introduced a second actor; he diminished
the importance of the chorus, and assigned the leading part to the
dialogue. Sophocles raised the number of actors to three, and added
scene-painting. Moreover, it was not till late that the short plot was
discarded for one of greater compass, and the grotesque diction of the
earlier satyric form for the stately manner of tragedy. The iambic
measure then replaced the trochaic tetrameter, which was originally
employed when the poetry was of the satyric order, and had greater with
dancing. Once dialogue had come in, Nature herself discovered the
appropriate measure. For the iambic is, of all measures, the most
colloquial we see it in the fact that conversational speech runs into
iambic lines more frequently than into any other kind of verse; rarely
into hexameters, and only when we drop the colloquial intonation. The
additions to the number of 'episodes' or acts, and the other accessories
of which tradition tells, must be taken as already described; for to
discuss them in detail would, doubtless, be a large undertaking.
3.4 Comedy: [5] Comedy is, as we
have said, an imitation of characters of a lower type - not, however,
in the full sense of the word bad, the ludicrous being merely a
subdivision of the ugly. It consists in some defect or ugliness which is
not painful or destructive. To take an obvious example, the comic mask
is ugly and distorted, but does not imply pain.
The successive changes through which tragedy passed, and the authors of
these changes, are well known, whereas comedy has had no history,
because it was not [49b] at first treated
seriously. It was late before the archon granted a comic chorus to a
poet; the performers were till then voluntary. Comedy had already taken
definite shape when comic poets, distinctively so called, are heard of.
Who furnished it with masks, or prologues, or increased the number of
actors - these and other similar details remain unknown. As for the plot, it came originally from Sicily; but of
Athenian writers Crates was the first who abandoning the 'iambic' or
lampooning form, universalised his themes and plots.
3.5 Epic: Epic poetry agrees with tragedy in so far as it is an
imitation in verse of characters of a higher type. They differ in that
epic poetry admits but one kind of metre and is narrative in form. They differ, again, in their length: for tragedy endeavors,
as far as possible, to confine itself to a single revolution of the sun,
or but slightly to exceed this limit, whereas the epic action has no
limits of time. This, then, is a second point of difference; though at
first the same freedom was admitted in tragedy as in epic poetry.
Of their constituent parts some are common to both, some
peculiar to tragedy: whoever, therefore knows what is good or bad
tragedy, knows also about epic poetry. All the elements of an epic poem
are found in tragedy, but the elements of a tragedy are not all found in
the epic poem.
4.1 Definition: [6] Of the poetry
which imitates in hexameter verse, and of comedy, we will speak
hereafter. Let us now discuss tragedy, resuming its formal definition,
as resulting from what has been already said.
Tragedy, then, is an imitation of an action that is
serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished
with each kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in
separate parts of the play; in the form of action, not of narrative;
through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions.
By 'language embellished,' I mean language into
which rhythm, 'harmony' and song enter. By 'the several kinds in
separate parts,' I mean, that some parts are rendered through the medium
of verse alone, others again with the aid of song.
4.2 Component parts: Now as tragic imitation implies persons
acting, it necessarily follows in the first place, that spectacular
equipment will be a part of tragedy. Next, song and diction, for these
are the media of imitation. By 'diction' I mean the mere metrical
arrangement of the words: as for 'song,' it is a term whose sense every
one understands.
Again, tragedy is the imitation of an action; and an
action implies personal agents, who necessarily possess certain
distinctive qualities both of character and thought; for it is by these
that we qualify [50a] actions themselves,
and these - thought and character - are the two natural causes from
which actions spring, and on actions again all success or failure
depends. Hence, the plot is the imitation of the action - for by 'plot'
I here mean the arrangement of the incidents. By character I mean that
in virtue of which we ascribe certain qualities to the agents. Thought
is required wherever a statement is proved, or, it may be, a general
truth enunciated. Every tragedy, therefore, must have six parts, which
parts determine its quality - namely, plot, character, diction, thought,
spectacle, song. Two of the parts constitute the medium of imitation,
one the manner, and three the objects of imitation. And these complete
the list.
4.3 The primacy of plot: These elements have been employed, we
may say, by the poets to a man; in fact, every play contains spectacular
elements as well as character, plot, diction, song, and thought. But
most important of all is the structure of the incidents.
(i) For tragedy is an imitation, not of men, but of an action and of
life, and life consists in action, and its end is a mode of action, not
a quality. Now character determines men's qualities, but it is by their
actions that they are happy or the reverse. Dramatic action, therefore,
is not with a view to the representation of character: character comes
in as subsidiary to the actions. Hence the incidents and the plot are
the end of a tragedy; and the end is the chief thing of all.
(ii) Again, without action there cannot be a tragedy; there may be
without character. The tragedies of most of our modern poets fail in the
rendering of character; and of poets in general this is often true. It
is the same in painting; and here lies the difference between Zeuxis and
Polygnotus. Polygnotus delineates character well; the style of Zeuxis is
devoid of ethical quality.
(iii) Again, if you string together a set of speeches expressive of
character, and well finished in point of diction and thought, you will
not produce the essential tragic effect nearly so well as with a play
which, however deficient in these respects, yet has a plot and
artistically constructed incidents.
(iv) Besides which, the most powerful elements of
emotional interest in tragedy - reversal, and recognition scenes - are
parts of the plot.
(v) A further proof is, that novices in the art attain to finish of
diction and precision of portraiture before they can construct the plot.
It is the same with almost all the early poets.
4.4 The ranking completed: The plot, then, is the first
principle, and, as it were, the soul of a tragedy; character holds the
second place. A similar fact is seen [50b]
in painting. The most beautiful colours, laid on confusedly, will not
give as much pleasure as the chalk outline of a portrait. Thus tragedy
is the imitation of an action, and of the agents mainly with a view to
the action.
Third in order is thought - that is, the faculty of
saying what is possible and pertinent in given circumstances. In the
case of oratory, this is the function of the political art and of the
art of rhetoric: and so indeed the older poets make
their characters speak the language of civic life; the poets of our
time, the language of the rhetoricians. Character is
that which reveals moral purpose, showing what kind of things a man
chooses or avoids. Speeches, therefore, which do not make this manifest,
or in which the speaker does not choose or avoid anything whatever, are
not expressive of character. Thought, on the other hand,
is found where something is proved to be or not to be, or a general
maxim is enunciated.
Fourth among the elements enumerated comes diction; by which I mean, as
has been already said, the expression of the meaning in words; and its
essence is the same both in verse and prose.
Of the remaining elements song holds the chief place
among the embellishments.
The spectacle has, indeed, an emotional attraction of
its own, but, of all the parts, it is the least artistic, and connected
least with the art of poetry. For the power of tragedy, we may be sure,
is felt even apart from representation and actors. Besides, the
production of spectacular effects depends more on the art of the stage
machinist than on that of the poet.
[7] These principles being established, let
us now discuss the proper structure of the plot, since this is the first
and most important thing in tragedy.
5.1 Completeness: Now, according to our definition tragedy is an
imitation of an action that is complete, and whole, and of a certain
magnitude; for there may be a whole that is wanting in magnitude. A
whole is that which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning
is that which does not itself follow anything by causal necessity, but
after which something naturally is or comes to be. An end, on the
contrary, is that which itself naturally follows some other thing,
either by necessity, or as a rule, but has nothing following it. A
middle is that which follows something as some other thing follows it. A
well constructed plot, therefore, must neither begin nor end at
haphazard, but conform to these principles.
5.2 Magnitude: Again, a beautiful object, whether it be a living
organism or any whole composed of parts, must not only have an orderly
arrangement of parts, but must also be of a certain magnitude; for
beauty depends on magnitude and order. Hence a very small animal
organism cannot be beautiful; for the view of it is confused, the object
being seen in an almost imperceptible moment of time. Nor, again, can
one of vast size be beautiful; for [51a] as
the eye cannot take it all in at once, the unity and sense of the whole
is lost for the spectator; as for instance if there were one a thousand
miles long. As, therefore, in the case of animate bodies and organisms a
certain magnitude is necessary, and a magnitude which may be easily
embraced in one view; so in the plot, a certain length is necessary, and
a length which can be easily embraced by the memory. The limit of length
in relation to dramatic competition and sensuous presentment is no part
of artistic theory. For had it been the rule for a hundred tragedies to
compete together, the performance would have been regulated by the
water-clock - as indeed we are told was formerly done. But the limit as fixed by the nature of the drama itself is
this: the greater the length, the more beautiful will the piece be by
reason of its size, provided that the whole be perspicuous. And to define the matter roughly, we may say that the
proper magnitude is comprised within such limits, that the sequence of
events, according to the law of probability or necessity, will admit of
a change from bad fortune to good, or from good fortune to bad.
5.3 Unity: [8] Unity of plot does
not, as some persons think, consist in the unity of the hero. For
infinitely various are the incidents in one man's life which cannot be
reduced to unity; and so, too, there are many actions of one man out of
which we cannot make one action. Hence the error, as it appears, of all
poets who have composed a Heracleid, a Theseid, or other
poems of the kind. They imagine that as Heracles was one man, the story
of Heracles must also be a unity. But Homer, as in all
else he is of surpassing merit, here too - whether from art or natural
genius - seems to have happily discerned the truth. In
composing the Odyssey he did not include all the adventures of
Odysseus - such as his wound on Parnassus, or his feigned madness at the
mustering of the host - incidents between which there was no necessary
or probable connection: but he made the Odyssey, and likewise the
Iliad, to centre round an action that in our sense of the word is
one.
5.4 Determinate structure: As therefore, in the other imitative
arts, the imitation is one when the object imitated is one, so the plot,
being an imitation of an action, must imitate one action and that a
whole, the structural union of the parts being such that, if any one of
them is displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and
disturbed. For a thing whose presence or absence makes no visible
difference, is not an organic part of the whole.
5.5 Universality: [9] It is,
moreover, evident from what has been said, that it is not the function
of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may happen - what is
possible according to the law of probability or necessity. The poet and
the historian differ not by writing in verse or in prose. [51b] The work of Herodotus might
be put into verse, and it would still be a species of history, with
metre no less than without it. The true difference is that one relates
what has happened, the other what may happen.
Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher
thing than history: for poetry tends to express the universal, history
the particular. By the universal I mean how a person of a certain type
on occasion speak or act, according to the law of probability or
necessity; and it is this universality at which poetry aims in the names
she attaches to the personages. The particular is - for example - what
Alcibiades did or suffered.
In comedy this is already apparent: for here the poet first constructs
the plot on the lines of probability, and then inserts characteristic
names - unlike the lampooners who write about particular individuals.
But tragedians still keep to real names, the reason being that what is
possible is credible: what has not happened we do not at once feel sure
to be possible; but what has happened is manifestly possible: otherwise
it would not have happened. Still there are even some tragedies in which
there are only one or two well-known names, the rest being fictitious.
In others, none are well known - as in Agathon's Antheus, where
incidents and names alike are fictitious, and yet they give none the
less pleasure. We must not, therefore, at all costs keep to the received
legends, which are the usual subjects of tragedy. Indeed, it would be
absurd to attempt it; for even subjects that are known are known only to
a few, and yet give pleasure to all.
It clearly follows that the poet or 'maker' should be
the maker of plots rather than of verses; since he is a poet because he
imitates, and what he imitates are actions. And even if he chances to
take a historical subject, he is none the less a poet; for there is no reason why some events that have actually
happened should not conform to the law of the probable and possible, and
in virtue of that quality in them he is their poet or maker.
5.6 Defective plots: Of all plots and actions the episodic are
the worst. I call a plot 'episodic' in which the episodes or acts
succeed one another without probable or necessary sequence. Bad poets
compose such pieces by their own fault, good poets, to please the
players; for, as they write show pieces for competition, they stretch
the plot beyond its capacity, and are [52a]
often forced to break the natural continuity.
6.1 Astonishment: But again, tragedy is an imitation not only of
a complete action, but of events inspiring fear or pity. Such an effect
is best produced when the events come on us by surprise; and the effect
is heightened when, at the same time, they follows as cause and effect.
The tragic wonder will then be greater than if they happened of
themselves or by accident; for even coincidences are most striking when
they have an air of design. We may instance the statue
of Mitys at Argos, which fell upon his murderer while he was a spectator
at a festival, and killed him. Such events seem not to be due to mere
chance. Plots, therefore, constructed on these principles are
necessarily the best.
6.2 Simple and complex plots: [10] Plots are either simple or complex, for the
actions in real life, of which the plots are an imitation, obviously
show a similar distinction.
An action which is one and continuous in the sense above defined, I call
simple, when the change of fortune takes place without reversal and
without recognition
A complex action is one in which the change is accompanied by such
reversal, or by recognition, or by both. These last should arise from
the internal structure of the plot, so that what follows should be the
necessary or probable result of the preceding action. It makes all the
difference whether any given event is a case of propter hoc or
post hoc.
6.3 Reversal: [11] Reversal is a
change by which the action veers round to its opposite, subject always
to our rule of probability or necessity. Thus in the
Oedipus, the messenger comes to cheer Oedipus and free him from
his alarms about his mother, but by revealing who he is, he produces the
opposite effect. Again in the Lynceus, Lynceus is
being led away to his death, and Danaus goes with him, meaning to slay
him; but the outcome of the preceding incidents is that Danaus is killed
and Lynceus saved.
6.4 Recognition: Recognition, as the name indicates, is a change
from ignorance to knowledge, producing love or hate between the persons
destined by the poet for good or bad fortune. The best
form of recognition is coincident with a reversal, as in the
Oedipus. There are indeed other forms. Even inanimate things of
the most trivial kind may in a sense be objects of recognition. Again,
we may recognize or discover whether a person has done a thing or not.
But the recognition which is most intimately connected with the plot and
action is, as we have said, the recognition of persons. This
recognition, combined with reversal, [52b]
will produce either pity or fear; and actions producing these effects
are those which, by our definition, tragedy represents. Moreover, it is
upon such situations that the issues of good or bad fortune will depend.
Recognition, then, being between persons, it may happen
that one person only is recognized by the other - when the latter is
already known - or it may be necessary that the recognition should be on
both sides. Thus Iphigeneia is revealed to Orestes by the sending of the
letter; but another act of recognition is required to make Orestes known
to Iphigeneia.
6.5 Suffering: Two parts, then, of the plot - reversal and
recognition - turn upon surprises. A third part is the scene of
suffering. The scene of suffering is a destructive or painful action,
such as death on the stage, bodily agony, wounds, and the like.
6.6 Quantitative parts of tragedy:
[12] The parts of tragedy which must be
treated as elements of the whole have been already mentioned. We now
come to the quantitative parts - the separate parts into which tragedy
is divided - namely, prologue, episode, exode, choric song; this last
being divided into parode and stasimon. These are common to all plays:
peculiar to some are the songs of actors from the stage and the kommoi.
The prologue is that entire part of a tragedy which precedes the parode
of the chorus. The episode is that entire part of a tragedy which is
between complete choric songs. The exode is that entire part of a
tragedy which has no choric song after it. Of the choric part the parode
is the first undivided utterance of the chorus: the stasimon is a choric
ode without anapaests or trochaic tetrameters: the kommos is a joint
lamentation of chorus and actors.
The parts of tragedy which must be treated as elements of the whole have
been already mentioned. The quantitative parts - the separate parts
into which it is divided - are here enumerated.
7.1 First introduction: [13] As
the sequel to what has already been said, we must proceed to consider
what the poet should aim at, and what he should avoid, in constructing
his plots; and by what means the specific effect of tragedy will be
produced.
7.2 First deduction: A perfect tragedy should, as we have seen,
be arranged not on the simple but on the complex plan. It should,
moreover, imitate actions which excite pity and fear, this being the
distinctive mark of tragic imitation. It follows
plainly, in the first place, that the change of fortune presented must
not be the spectacle of a virtuous man brought from prosperity to
adversity: for this moves neither pity nor fear; it merely shocks us. Nor, again, that of a bad man passing from adversity to
prosperity: for nothing can be more alien to the spirit of tragedy; it
possesses no single tragic quality; it neither satisfies the moral sense
[53a] nor calls forth pity or fear. Nor,
again, should the downfall of the utter villain be exhibited. A plot of
this kind would, doubtless, satisfy the moral sense, but it would
inspire neither pity nor fear; for pity is aroused by
unmerited misfortune, fear by the misfortune of a man like ourselves.
Such an event, therefore, will be neither pitiful nor terrible.
There remains, then, the character between these two
extremes - that of a man who is not eminently good and just, yet whose
misfortune is brought about not by vice or depravity, but by some error
or frailty. He must be one who is highly renowned and prosperous - a
personage like Oedipus, Thyestes, or other illustrious men of such
families.
A well-constructed plot should, therefore, be single in
its issue, rather than double as some maintain. The change of fortune
should be not from bad to good, but, reversely, from good to bad. It
should come about as the result not of vice, but of some great error or
frailty, in a character either such as we have described, or better
rather than worse. The practice of the stage bears out
our view. At first the poets recounted any legend that came in their
way. Now, the best tragedies are founded on the story of
a few houses - on the fortunes of Alcmaeon, Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager,
Thyestes, Telephus, and those others who have done or suffered something
terrible. A tragedy, then, to be perfect according to the rules of art
should be of this construction.
Hence they are in error who censure Euripides just
because he follows this principle in his plays, many of which end
unhappily. It is, as we have said, the right ending. The best proof is
that on the stage and in dramatic competition, such plays, if well
worked out, are the most tragic in effect; and Euripides, faulty though
he may be in the general management of his subject, yet is felt to be
the most tragic of the poets.
In the second rank comes the kind of tragedy which some
place first. Like the Odyssey, it has a double thread of plot,
and also an opposite catastrophe for the good and for the bad. It is
accounted the best because of the weakness of the spectators; for the
poet is guided in what he writes by the wishes of his audience. The pleasure, however, thence derived is not the true
tragic pleasure. It is proper rather to comedy, where those who, in the
piece, are the deadliest enemies - like Orestes and Aegisthus - quit
the stage as friends at the close, and no one slays or is slain.
7.3 Second introduction: [14][53b] Fear and
pity may be aroused by spectacular means; but they may also result from
the inner structure of the piece, which is the better way, and indicates
a superior poet. For the plot ought to be so constructed
that, even without the aid of the eye, he who hears the tale told will
thrill with horror and melt to pity at what takes place. This is the
impression we should receive from hearing the story of the Oedipus. But
to produce this effect by the mere spectacle is a less artistic method,
and dependent on extraneous aids. Those who employ spectacular means to
create a sense not of the terrible but only of the monstrous, are
strangers to the purpose of tragedy; for we must not
demand of tragedy any and every kind of pleasure, but only that which is
proper to it. And since the pleasure which the poet should afford is
that which comes from pity and fear through imitation, it is evident
that this quality must be impressed upon the incidents.
7.4 Second deduction: Let us then determine what are the
circumstances which strike us as terrible or pitiful.
Actions capable of this effect must happen between
persons who are either friends or enemies or indifferent to one another.
If an enemy kills an enemy, there is nothing to excite pity either in
the act or the intention - except so far as the suffering in itself is
pitiful. So again with indifferent persons. But when the tragic incident
occurs between those who are near or dear to one another - if, for
example, a brother kills, or intends to kill, a brother, a son his
father, a mother her son, a son his mother, or any other deed of the
kind is done - these are the situations to be looked for by the poet.
He may not indeed destroy the framework of the received
legends - the fact, for instance, that Clytemnestra was slain by Orestes
and Eriphyle by Alcmaeon - but he ought to show of his own, and
skilfully handle the traditional. material. Let us explain more clearly
what is meant by skilful handling.
The action may be done consciously and with knowledge of
the persons, in the manner of the older poets. It is thus too that
Euripides makes Medea slay her children. Or, again, the
deed of horror may be done, but done in ignorance, and the tie of
kinship or friendship be discovered afterwards. The Oedipus of
Sophocles is an example. Here, indeed, the incident is outside the drama
proper; but cases occur where it falls within the action of the play:
one may cite the Alcmaeon of Astydamas, or Telegonus in the
Wounded Odysseus. Again, there is a third case - [to be about to
act with knowledge of the persons and then not to act. The fourth case]
is when some one is about to do an irreparable deed through ignorance,
and makes the discovery before it is done. These are the only possible
ways. For the deed must either be done or not done - and that wittingly
or unwittingly. But of all these ways, to be about to
act knowing the persons, and then not to act, is the worst. It is
shocking without being tragic, for no disaster follows It is, therefore,
never, [54a] or very rarely, found in
poetry. One instance, however, is in the Antigone, where Haemon
threatens to kill Creon. The next and better way is that the deed should
be perpetrated. Still better, that it should be
perpetrated in ignorance, and the discovery made afterwards. There is
then nothing to shock us, while the discovery produces a startling
effect. The last case is the best, as when in the
Cresphontes Merope is about to slay her son, but, recognizing who
he is, spares his life. So in the Iphigeneia, the sister
recognizes the brother just in time. Again in the Helle, the son
recognizes the mother when on the point of giving her up. This, then, is why a few families only, as has been already
observed, furnish the subjects of tragedy. It was not
art, but happy chance, that led the poets in search of subjects to
impress the tragic quality upon their plots. They are compelled,
therefore, to have recourse to those houses whose history contains
moving incidents like these.
Enough has now been said concerning the structure of the incidents, and
the right kind of plot.
8.1 Character: [15] In respect of
character there are four things to be aimed at.
(i) First, and most important, it must be good. Now any speech or action
that manifests moral purpose of any kind will be expressive of
character: the character will be good if the purpose is good. This rule
is relative to each class. Even a woman may be good, and
also a slave; though the woman may be said to be an inferior being, and
the slave quite worthless.
(ii) The second thing to aim at is propriety. There is a
type of manly valor; but valour in a woman, or unscrupulous cleverness
is inappropriate.
(iii) Thirdly, character must be true to life: for this is a distinct
thing from goodness and propriety, as here described.
(iv) The fourth point is consistency: for though the subject of the
imitation, who suggested the type, be inconsistent, still he must be
consistently inconsistent.
As an example of motiveless degradation of character, we
have Menelaus in the Orestes; of character indecorous and
inappropriate, the lament of Odysseus in the Scylla, and the
speech of Melanippe; of inconsistency, the Iphigeneia at Aulis -
for Iphigeneia the suppliant in no way resembles her later self.
As in the structure of the plot, so too in the portraiture of character,
the poet should always aim either at the necessary or the probable. Thus
a person of a given character should speak or act in a given way, by the
rule either of necessity or of probability; just as this event should
follow that by necessary or probable sequence. It is
therefore evident that the unraveling of the plot, no less than the
complication, must arise out of the plot itself, [54b] it must not be brought about by the deus
ex machina - as in the Medea, or in the return of the Greeks
in the Iliad. The deus ex machina should
be employed only for events external to the drama - for antecedent or
subsequent events, which lie beyond the range of human knowledge, and
which require to be reported or foretold; for to the gods we ascribe the
power of seeing all things. Within the action there must
be nothing irrational. If the irrational cannot be excluded, it should
be outside the scope of the tragedy. Such is the irrational element the
Oedipus of Sophocles.
Again, since tragedy is an imitation of persons who are
above the common level, the example of good portrait painters should be
followed. They, while reproducing the distinctive form of the original,
make a likeness which is true to life and yet more beautiful. So too the
poet, in representing men who are irascible or indolent, or have other
defects of character, should preserve the type and yet ennoble it. In
this way Achilles is portrayed by Homer as an example of obstinacy, and
yet a good man.
These then are rules the poet should observe. Nor should he neglect
those appeals to the senses, which, though not among the essentials, are
the concomitants of poetry; for here too there is much room for error.
But of this enough has been said in our published treatises.
8.2 Kinds of recognition: [16]
What recognition is has been already explained. We will now enumerate
its kinds.
(i) First, the least artistic form, which, from poverty
of wit, is most commonly employed - recognition by signs. Of these some
are congenital - such as 'the spear which the earth-born race bear on
their bodies,' or the stars introduced by Carcinus in his
Thyestes. Others are acquired after birth; and of these some are
bodily marks, as scars; some external tokens, as necklaces, or the
little ark in the Tyro by which the discovery is effected. Even these admit of more or less skilful treatment. Thus
in the recognition of Odysseus by his scar, the discovery is made in one
way by the nurse, in another by the swineherds. The use of tokens for
the express purpose of proof - and, indeed, any formal proof with or
without tokens - is a less artistic mode of recognition. A better kind
is that which comes about by a turn of incident, as in the Bath Scene in
the Odyssey.
(ii) Next come the recognitions invented at will by the
poet, and on that account wanting in art. For example, Orestes in the
Iphigeneia reveals the fact that he is Orestes. She, indeed, makes
herself known by the letter; but he, by speaking himself, and saying
what the poet, not what the plot requires. This, therefore, is nearly
allied to the fault above mentioned - for Orestes might as well have
brought tokens with him. Another similar instance is the 'voice of the
shuttle' in the Tereus of Sophocles.
(iii) The third kind depends on memory when the sight
of some object awakens a feeling: [55a] as
in the Cyprians of Dicaeogenes, where the hero breaks into tears
on seeing the picture; or again in the Lay of Alcinous, where
Odysseus, hearing the minstrel play the lyre, recalls the past and
weeps; and hence the recognition.
(iv) The fourth kind is by process of reasoning. Thus in
the Choephori: 'Some one resembling me has come: no one resembles
me but Orestes: therefore Orestes has come.' Such too is the discovery
made by Iphigeneia in the play of Polyidus the sophist. It was a natural
reflection for Orestes to make, 'So I too must die at the altar like my
sister.' So, again, in the Tydeus of Theodectes, the father says,
'I came to find my son, and I lose my own life.' So too in the
Phineidae: the women, on seeing the place, inferred their fate - 'Here
we are doomed to die, for here we were cast forth.'
(v) Again, there is a composite kind of recognition involving false
inference on the part of one of the characters, as in the Odysseus
Disguised as a Messenger. A said [that no one else was able to bend
the bow; ... hence B (the disguised Odysseus) imagined that A would]
recognize the bow which, in fact, he had not seen; and to bring about a
recognition by this means - the expectation that A would recognize the
bow - is false inference.
(vi) But, of all recognitions, the best is that which
arises from the incidents themselves, where the startling discovery is
made by natural means. Such is that in the Oedipus of Sophocles,
and in the Iphigeneia; for it was natural that Iphigeneia should
wish to dispatch a letter. These recognitions alone dispense with the
artificial aid of tokens or amulets. Next come the recognitions by
process of reasoning.
8.3 Visualising the action: [17]
In constructing the plot and working it out with the proper diction, the
poet should place the scene, as far as possible, before his eyes. In
this way, seeing everything with the utmost vividness, as if he were a
spectator of the action, he will discover what is in keeping with it,
and be most unlikely to overlook inconsistencies. The need of such a
rule is shown by the fault found in Carcinus. Amphiaraus was on his way
from the temple. This fact escaped the observation of one who did not
see the situation. On the stage, however, the piece failed, the audience
being offended at the oversight.
Again, the poet should work out his play, to the best of his power, with
appropriate gestures; for those who feel emotion are most convincing
through natural sympathy with the characters they represent; and one who
is agitated storms, one who is angry rages, with the most lifelike
reality. Hence poetry implies either a happy gift of
nature or a strain of madness. In the one case a man can take the mould
of any character; in the other, he is lifted out of his proper self.
8.4 Outlines and episodisation: As for the story, whether the
poet takes it ready made or constructs it for himself, [55b] he should first sketch its general
outline, and then fill in the episodes and amplify in detail. The
general plan may be illustrated by the Iphigeneia. A young girl is
sacrificed; she disappears mysteriously from the eyes of those who
sacrificed her; she is transported to another country, where the custom
is to offer up an strangers to the goddess. To this ministry she is
appointed. Some time later her own brother chances to arrive. The fact
that the oracle for some reason ordered him to go there, is outside the
general plan of the play. The purpose, again, of his coming is outside
the action proper. However, he comes, he is seized, and, when on the
point of being sacrificed, reveals who he is. The mode
of recognition may be either that of Euripides or of Polyidus, in whose
play he exclaims very naturally: 'So it was not my sister only, but I
too, who was doomed to be sacrificed'; and by that remark he is saved.
After this, the names being once given, it remains to
fill in the episodes. We must see that they are relevant to the action.
In the case of Orestes, for example, there is the madness which led to
his capture, and his deliverance by means of the purificatory rite. In the drama, the episodes are short, but it is these that
give extension to epic poetry. Thus the story of the
Odyssey can be stated briefly. A certain man is absent from home
for many years; he is jealously watched by Poseidon, and left desolate.
Meanwhile his home is in a wretched plight - suitors are wasting his
substance and plotting against his son. At length, tempest-tossed, he
himself arrives; he makes certain persons acquainted with him; he
attacks the suitors with his own hand, and is himself preserved while he
destroys them. This is the essence of the plot; the rest is episode.
8.5 Complication and resolution: [18] Every tragedy falls into two parts -
complication and unraveling or denouement. Incidents extraneous to the
action are frequently combined with a portion of the action proper, to
form the complication; the rest is the unraveling. By the complication I
mean all that extends from the beginning of the action to the part which
marks the turning-point to good or bad fortune. The
unraveling is that which extends from the beginning of the change to the
end. Thus, in the Lynceus of Theodectes, the complication
consists of the incidents presupposed in the drama, the seizure of the
child, and then again ... [the unraveling] extends from the accusation
of murder to the end.
8.6 Kinds of tragedy: There are four kinds of tragedy: the
complex, depending entirely on reversal and recognition; the pathetic
(where the motive is passion) - such as the tragedies on [56a] Ajax and Ixion; the ethical (where the
motives are ethical) - such as the Phthiotides and the
Peleus. The fourth kind is the simple. [We here exclude the
purely spectacular element], exemplified by the Phorcides, the
Prometheus, and scenes laid in Hades. The poet should endeavor,
if possible, to combine all poetic elements; or failing that, the
greatest number and those the most important; the more so, in face of
the caviling criticism of the day. For whereas there have hitherto been
good poets, each in his own branch, the critics now expect one man to
surpass all others in their several lines of excellence.
In speaking of a tragedy as the same or different, the best test to take
is the plot. Identity exists where the complication and unraveling are
the same. Many poets tie the knot well, but unravel it.
Both arts, however, should always be mastered.
8.7 Tragedy and epic: Again, the poet should remember what has
been often said, and not make an epic structure into a tragedy - by an
epic structure I mean one with a multiplicity of plots - as if, for
instance, you were to make a tragedy out of the entire story of the
Iliad. In the epic poem, owing to its length, each part assumes
its proper magnitude. In the drama the result is far from answering to
the poet's expectation. The proof is that the poets who
have dramatized the whole story of the Fall of Troy, instead of
selecting portions, like Euripides; or who have taken the whole tale of
Niobe, and not a part of her story, like Aeschylus, either fail utterly
or meet with poor success on the stage. Even Agathon has been known to
fail from this one defect.
8.8 Astonishment: In his reversals, however, he shows a marvelous
skill in the effort to hit the popular taste - to produce a tragic
effect that satisfies the moral sense. This effect is produced when the
clever rogue, like Sisyphus, is outwitted, or the brave villain
defeated. Such an event is probable in Agathon's sense of the word: 'is
probable,' he says, 'that many things should happen contrary to
probability.'
8.9 The chorus: The chorus too should be regarded as one of the
actors; it should be an integral part of the whole, and share in the
action, in the manner not of Euripides but of Sophocles. As for the
later poets, their choral songs pertain as little to the subject of the
piece as to that of any other tragedy. They are, therefore, sung as mere
interludes - a practice first begun by Agathon. Yet what difference is
there between introducing such choral interludes, and transferring a
speech, or even a whole act, from one play to another.
9.1 Introduction: [19] It remains to
speak of diction and thought, the other parts of tragedy having been
already discussed. Concerning thought, we may assume
what is said in the Rhetoric, to which inquiry the subject more
strictly belongs. Under thought is included every effect which has to be
produced by speech, the subdivisions being: proof and refutation; the
excitation of the feelings, such as [56b]
pity, fear, anger, and the like; the suggestion of importance or its
opposite. Now, it is evident that the dramatic incidents must be treated
from the same points of view as the dramatic speeches, when the object
is to evoke the sense of pity, fear, importance, or probability. The
only difference is that the incidents should speak for themselves
without verbal exposition; while effects aimed at in should be produced
by the speaker, and as a result of the speech. For what were the
business of a speaker, if the thought were revealed quite apart from
what he says?
Next, as regards diction. One branch of the inquiry treats of the modes
of utterance. But this province of knowledge belongs to the art of
delivery and to the masters of that science. It includes, for instance -
- what is a command, a prayer, a statement, a threat, a question, an
answer, and so forth. To know or not to know these things involves no
serious censure upon the poet's art. For who can admit the fault imputed
to Homer by Protagoras - that in the words, 'Sing, goddess, of the
wrath, he gives a command under the idea that he utters a prayer? For to
tell some one to do a thing or not to do it is, he says, a command. We
may, therefore, pass this over as an inquiry that belongs to another
art, not to poetry.
9.2 Basic concepts: [20] Language in
general includes the following parts: letter, syllable, connecting word,
noun, verb, inflection or case, sentence or phrase.
A letter is an indivisible sound, yet not every such sound, but only one
which can form part of a group of sounds. For even brutes utter
indivisible sounds, none of which I call a letter. The sound I mean may
be either a vowel, a semivowel, or a mute. A vowel is that which without
impact of tongue or lip has an audible sound. A semivowel that which
with such impact has an audible sound, as S and R. A mute, that which
with such impact has by itself no sound, but joined to a vowel sound
becomes audible, as G and D. These are distinguished according to the
form assumed by the mouth and the place where they are produced;
according as they are aspirated or smooth, long or short; as they are
acute, grave, or of an intermediate tone; which inquiry belongs in
detail to the writers on metre.
A syllable is a nonsignificant sound, composed of a mute and a vowel:
for GR without A is a syllable, as also with A - GRA. But the
investigation of these differences belongs also to metrical science.
A connecting word is a nonsignificant sound, which neither [57a] causes nor hinders the union of many
sounds into one significant sound; it may be placed at either end or in
the middle of a sentence. Or, a nonsignificant sound, which out of
several sounds, each of them significant, is capable of forming one
significant sound - as amphi, peri, and the like. Or, a
nonsignificant sound, which marks the beginning, end, or division of a
sentence; such, however, that it cannot correctly stand by itself at the
beginning of a sentence - as men, etoi, de.
A noun is a composite significant sound, not marking time, of which no
part is in itself significant: for in double or compound words we do not
employ the separate parts as if each were in itself significant. Thus in
Theodorus, 'god-given,' the doron or 'gift' is not in itself
significant.
A verb is a composite significant sound, marking time, in which, as in
the noun, no part is in itself significant. For 'man' or 'white' does
not express the idea of 'when'; but 'he walks' or 'he has walked' does
connote time, present or past.
Inflection belongs both to the noun and verb, and expresses either the
relation 'of,' 'to,' or the like; or that of number, whether one or
many, as 'man' or 'men'; or the modes or tones in actual delivery, e.g.,
a question or a command. 'Did he go?' and 'go' are verbal inflections of
this kind.
A sentence or phrase is a composite significant sound, some at least of
whose parts are in themselves significant; for not every such group of
words consists of verbs and nouns - the definition of man, for example
- but it may dispense even with the verb. Still it will always have
some significant part, as 'in walking,' or 'Cleon son of Cleon.' A
sentence or phrase may form a unity in two ways - either as signifying
one thing, or as consisting of several parts linked together. Thus the
Iliad is one by the linking together of parts, the definition of
man by the unity of the thing signified.
9.3 Classification of words: [21]
Words are of two kinds, simple and double. By simple I mean those
composed of nonsignificant elements, such as ge, 'earth'. By
double or compound, those composed either of a significant and
nonsignificant element (though within the whole word no element is
significant), or of elements that are both significant. A word may
likewise be triple, quadruple, or multiple in form, like so many
Massilian expressions, e.g., 'Hermo-caico-xanthus'.
[57b] Every word is either current, or
strange, or metaphorical, or ornamental, or newly-coined, or lengthened,
or contracted, or altered.
By a current or proper word I mean one which is in general use among a
people; by a strange word, one which is in use in another country.
Plainly, therefore, the same word may be at once strange and current,
but not in relation to the same people. The word sigynon,
'lance', is to the Cyprians a current term but to us a strange one.
Metaphor is the application of an alien name by transference either from
genus to species, or from species to genus, or from species to species,
or by analogy, that is, proportion. Thus from genus to species, as:
'There lies my ship'; for lying at anchor is a species of lying. From
species to genus, as: 'Verily ten thousand noble deeds hath Odysseus
wrought'; for ten thousand is a species of large number, and is here
used for a large number generally. From species to species, as: 'With
blade of bronze drew away the life', and 'Cleft the water with the
vessel of unyielding bronze'. Here arusai, 'to draw away' is used
for tamein, 'to cleave', and tamein, again for
arusai - each being a species of taking away. Analogy or
proportion is when the second term is to the first as the fourth to the
third. We may then use the fourth for the second, or the second for the
fourth. Sometimes too we qualify the metaphor by adding the term to
which the proper word is relative. Thus the cup is to Dionysus as the
shield to Ares. The cup may, therefore, be called 'the shield of
Dionysus', and the shield 'the cup of Ares'. Or, again, as old age is to
life, so is evening to day. Evening may therefore be called, 'the old
age of the day', and old age, 'the evening of life'. or, in the phrase
of Empedocles, 'life's setting sun'. For some of the terms of the
proportion there is at times no word in existence; still the metaphor
may be used. For instance, to scatter seed is called sowing: but the
action of the sun in scattering his rays is nameless. Still this process
bears to the sun the same relation as sowing to the seed. Hence the
expression of the poet 'sowing the god-created light'. There is another
way in which this kind of metaphor may be employed. We may apply an
alien term, and then deny of that term one of its proper attributes; as
if we were to call the shield, not 'the cup of Ares', but 'the wineless
cup'.
A newly-coined word is one which has never been even in local use, but
is adopted by the poet himself. Some such words there appear to be: as
ernyges, 'sprouters,' for kerata, 'horns'; and
areter, 'supplicator', for hiereus, 'priest'.
A word is lengthened [58a] when its own
vowel is exchanged for a longer one, or when a syllable is inserted. A
word is contracted when some part of it is removed. Instances of
lengthening are: poleos for poleos, Peleiadeo for
Peleidou; of contraction: kri, do, and ops,
as in mia ginetai amphoteron ops, 'the appearance of both is
one'.
An altered word is one in which part of the ordinary form is left
unchanged, and part is recast: as in dexiteron kata mazon, 'on
the right breast', dexiteron is for dexion.
Nouns in themselves are either masculine, feminine, or neuter. Masculine
are such as end in N, R, S, or in some letter compounded with S - these
being two, PS and X. Feminine, such as end in vowels that are always
long, namely E and O, and - of vowels that admit of lengthening -
those in A. Thus the number of letters in which nouns masculine and
feminine end is the same; for PS and X are equivalent to endings in S.
No noun ends in a mute or a vowel short by nature. Three only end in I -
- meli, 'honey'; kommi, 'gum'; peperi, 'pepper';
five end in U. Neuter nouns end in these two latter vowels; also in N
and S.
9.4 Qualities of poetic style: [22]
The perfection of style is to be clear without being mean. The clearest
style is that which uses only current or proper words; at the same time
it is mean - witness the poetry of Cleophon and of Sthenelus. That
diction, on the other hand, is lofty and raised above the commonplace
which employs unusual words. By unusual, I mean strange (or rare) words,
metaphorical, lengthened - anything, in short, that differs from the
normal idiom. Yet a style wholly composed of such words is either a
riddle or a jargon; a riddle, if it consists of metaphors; a jargon, if
it consists of strange (or rare) words. For the essence of a riddle is
to express true facts under impossible combinations. Now this cannot be
done by any arrangement of ordinary words, but by the use of metaphor it
can. Such is the riddle: 'A man I saw who on another man had glued the
bronze by aid of fire', and others of the same kind. A diction that is
made up of strange (or rare) terms is a jargon. A certain infusion,
therefore, of these elements is necessary to style; for the strange (or
rare) word, the metaphorical, the ornamental, and the other kinds above
mentioned, will raise it above the commonplace and mean, while the use
of proper words will make it perspicuous. But nothing contributes more
to produce [58b] a cleanness of diction
that is remote from commonness than the lengthening, contraction, and
alteration of words. For by deviating in exceptional cases from the
normal idiom, the language will gain distinction; while, at the same
time, the partial conformity with usage will give perspicuity. The
critics, therefore, are in error who censure these licenses of speech,
and hold the author up to ridicule. Thus Eucleides, the elder, declared
that it would be an easy matter to be a poet if you might lengthen
syllables at will. He caricatured the practice in the very form of his
diction, as in the verse: Epicharen eidon Marathonade badizonta
(I saw Epichares walking to Marathon), or, ouk an geramenos ton
ekeinou elleboron (not if you desire his hellebore). To employ such
license at all obtrusively is, no doubt, grotesque; but in any mode of
poetic diction there must be moderation. Even metaphors, strange (or
rare) words, or any similar forms of speech, would produce the like
effect if used without propriety and with the express purpose of being
ludicrous. How great a difference is made by the appropriate use of
lengthening, may be seen in epic poetry by the insertion of ordinary
forms in the verse. So, again, if we take a strange (or rare) word, a
metaphor, or any similar mode of expression, and replace it by the
current or proper term, the truth of our observation will be manifest.
For example, Aeschylus and Euripides each composed the
same iambic line. But the alteration of a single word by Euripides, who
employed the rarer term instead of the ordinary one, makes one verse
appear beautiful and the other trivial. Aeschylus in his
Philoctetes says: phagedaina d'he mou sarkas esthiei podos
(the tumor which is eating the flesh of my foot). Euripides substitutes
thoinatai, 'feasts on', for esthiei, 'feeds on'. Again, in
the line, nun de m'eon oligos te kai outidanos kai aeikes (yet a
small man, worthless and unseemly), the difference will be felt if we
substitute the common words, nun de m'eon mikros te kai asthenikos
kai aeides (yet a little fellow, weak and ugly). Or, if for the
line, diphron aeikelion katatheis oligen te trapezan (setting an
unseemly couch and a meager table), we read, diphron mochtheron
katatheis mikran te trapezan (setting a wretched couch and a puny
table). Or, for eiones booosin, 'the sea shores roar', eiones
krazousin, 'the sea shores screech'.
Again, Ariphrades ridiculed the tragedians for using phrases which no
one would employ in ordinary speech: for example, domaton apo,
'from the house away', instead of apo domaton, 'away from the
house'; sethen, ego de nin, 'to thee, and I to him'; [59a] Achilleos peri, 'Achilles about',
instead of peri Achilleos, 'about Achilles'; and the like. It is
precisely because such phrases are not part of the current idiom that
they give distinction to the style. This, however, he failed to see.
It is a great matter to observe propriety in these several modes of
expression, as also in compound words, strange (or rare) words, and so
forth. But the greatest thing by far is to have a
command of metaphor. This alone cannot be imparted by another; it is the
mark of genius, for to make good metaphors implies an eye for
resemblances.
Of the various kinds of words, the compound are best adapted to
dithyrambs, rare words to heroic poetry, metaphors to iambic. In heroic
poetry, indeed, all these varieties are serviceable. But in iambic
verse, which reproduces, as far as may be, familiar speech, the most
appropriate words are those which are found even in prose. These are the
current or proper, the metaphorical, the ornamental.
Concerning tragedy and imitation by means of action this may suffice.
10.1 Plot: [23] As to that poetic
imitation which is narrative in form and employs a single metre, the
plot manifestly ought, as in a tragedy, to be constructed on dramatic
principles. It should have for its subject a single action, whole and
complete, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. It will thus resemble
a living organism in all its unity, and produce the pleasure proper to
it. It will differ in structure from historical compositions, which of
necessity present not a single action, but a single period, and all that
happened within that period to one person or to many, little connected
together as the events may be. For as the sea-fight at Salamis and the
battle with the Carthaginians in Sicily took place at the same time, but
did not tend to any one result, so in the sequence of events, one thing
sometimes follows another, and yet no single result is thereby produced.
Such is the practice, we may say, of most poets. Here
again, then, as has been already observed, the transcendent excellence
of Homer is manifest. He never attempts to make the whole war of Troy
the subject of his poem, though that war had a beginning and an end. It
would have been too vast a theme, and not easily embraced in a single
view. If, again, he had kept it within moderate limits, it must have
been over-complicated by the variety of the incidents. As it is, he detaches a single portion, and admits as
episodes many events from the general story of the war - such as the
Catalogue of the Ships and others - thus diversifying the poem. All
other poets take a single hero, a single period, or an action single
indeed, but with a multiplicity of parts. Thus did the author of the
[59b] Cypria and of the Little
Iliad. For this reason the Iliad and the
Odyssey each furnish the subject of one tragedy, or, at most, of
two; while the Cypria supplies materials for many, and the
Little Iliad for eight - the Award of the Arms, the
Philoctetes, the Neoptolemus, the Eurypylus, the
Mendicant Odysseus, the Laconian Women, the Fall of
Ilium, the Departure of the Fleet.
10.2 Kinds and parts of epic: [24]
Again, epic poetry must have as many kinds as tragedy: it must be
simple, or complex, or 'ethical,'or 'pathetic'. The parts also, with the
exception of song and spectacle, are the same; for it requires
reversals, recognitions, and scenes of suffering. Moreover, the thoughts
and the diction must be artistic. In all these respects
Homer is our earliest and sufficient model. Indeed each of his poems has
a twofold character. The Iliad is at once simple and 'pathetic',
and the Odyssey complex (for recognition scenes run through it),
and at the same time 'ethical'. Moreover, in diction and thought they
are supreme.
10.3 Differences between tragedy and epic: Epic poetry differs
from tragedy in the scale on which it is constructed, and in its metre.
As regards scale or length, we have already laid down an
adequate limit: the beginning and the end must be capable of being
brought within a single view. This condition will be satisfied by poems
on a smaller scale than the old epics, and answering in length to the
group of tragedies presented at a single sitting.
Epic poetry has, however, a great - a special -
capacity for enlarging its dimensions, and we can see the reason. In
tragedy we cannot imitate several lines of actions carried on at one and
the same time; we must confine ourselves to the action on the stage and
the part taken by the players. But in epic poetry, owing to the
narrative form, many events simultaneously transacted can be presented;
and these, if relevant to the subject, add mass and dignity to the poem.
The epic has here an advantage, and one that conduces to grandeur of
effect, to diverting the mind of the hearer, and relieving the story
with varying episodes. For sameness of incident soon produces satiety,
and makes tragedies fail on the stage.
As for the metre, the heroic measure has proved its fitness by hexameter
test of experience. If a narrative poem in any other metre or in many
metres were now composed, it would be found incongruous. For of all
measures the heroic is the stateliest and the most massive; and hence it
most readily admits rare words and metaphors, which is another point in
which the narrative form of imitation stands alone. On the other hand,
the iambic and the trochaic tetrameter are stirring measures, the latter
being akin to dancing, the former expressive of action. Still more
absurd [60a] would it be to mix together
different metres, as was done by Chaeremon. Hence no one has ever
composed a poem on a great scale in any other than heroic verse. Nature
herself, as we have said, teaches the choice of the proper measure.
10.4 Quasi-dramatic epic: Homer, admirable in all respects, has
the special merit of being the only poet who rightly appreciates the
part he should take himself. The poet should speak as little as possible
in his own person, for it is not this that makes him an imitator. Other
poets appear themselves upon the scene throughout, and imitate but
little and rarely. Homer, after a few prefatory words, at once brings in
a man, or woman, or other personage; none of them wanting in
characteristic qualities, but each with a character of his own.
10.5 Astonishment and irrationalities: The element of the
wonderful is required in tragedy. The irrational, on which the wonderful
depends for its chief effects, has wider scope in epic poetry, because
there the person acting is not seen. Thus, the pursuit
of Hector would be ludicrous if placed upon the stage - the Greeks
standing still and not joining in the pursuit, and Achilles waving them
back. But in the epic poem the absurdity passes unnoticed. Now the
wonderful is pleasing, as may be inferred from the fact that every one
tells a story with some addition of his knowing that his hearers like
it. It is Homer who has chiefly taught other poets the
art of telling lies skilfully. The secret of it lies in a fallacy For,
assuming that if one thing is or becomes, a second is or becomes, men
imagine that, if the second is, the first likewise is or becomes. But
this is a false inference. Hence, where the first thing is untrue, it is
quite unnecessary, provided the second be true, to add that the first is
or has become. For the mind, knowing the second to be true, falsely
infers the truth of the first. There is an example of this in the Bath
Scene of the Odyssey.
Accordingly, the poet should prefer probable impossibilities to
improbable possibilities. The tragic plot must not be
composed of irrational parts. Everything irrational should, if possible,
be excluded; or, at all events, it should lie outside the action of the
play (as, in the Oedipus, the hero's ignorance as to the manner
of Laius' death); not within the drama - as in the Electra, the
messenger's account of the Pythian games; or, as in the Mysians,
the man who has come from Tegea to Mysia and is still speechless. The plea that otherwise the plot would have been ruined, is
ridiculous; such a plot should not in the first instance be constructed.
But once the irrational has been introduced and an air of likelihood
imparted to it, we must accept it in spite of the absurdity. Take even
the irrational incidents in the Odyssey, where Odysseus is left
upon the shore of Ithaca. How intolerable even these might have been
would be apparent [60b] if an inferior poet
were to treat the subject. As it is, the absurdity is veiled by the
poetic charm with which the poet invests it.
10.6 Diction: The diction should be elaborated in the pauses of
the action, where there is no expression of character or thought. For,
conversely, character and thought are merely obscured by a diction that
is over-brilliant.
(i) The poet being an imitator, like a painter or any other artist, must
of necessity imitate one of three objects - things as they were or are,
things as they are said or thought to be, or things as they ought to be.
(ii) The vehicle of expression is language -either current terms or, it
may be, rare words or metaphors. There are also many modifications of
language, which we concede to the poets.
(iii) Add to this, that the standard of correctness is not the same in
poetry and politics, any more than in poetry and any other art. Within
the art of poetry itself there are two kinds of faults - those which
touch its essence, and those which are accidental. If a poet has chosen
to imitate something, [but has imitated it incorrectly] through want of
capacity, the error is inherent in the poetry. But if the failure is due
to a wrong choice - if he has represented a horse as throwing out both
his off legs at once, or introduced technical inaccuracies in medicine,
for example, or in any other art - the error is not essential to the
poetry.
11.2 Applications: These are the points of view from which we
should consider and answer the objections raised by the critics.
(i) First as to matters which concern the poet's own
art. If he describes the impossible, he is guilty of an error; but the
error may be justified, if the end of the art be thereby attained (the
end being that already mentioned) - if, that is, the effect of this or
any other part of the poem is thus rendered more striking. A case in
point is the pursuit of Hector. if, however, the end might have been as
well, or better, attained without violating the special rules of the
poetic art, the error is not justified: for every kind of error should,
if possible, be avoided.
(ii) Again, does the error touch the essentials of the poetic art, or
some accident of it? For example, not to know that a hind has no horns
is a less serious matter than to paint it inartistically.
(iii) Further, if it be objected that the description is not true to
fact, the poet may perhaps reply, 'But the objects are as they ought to
be'; just as Sophocles said that he drew men as they ought to be;
Euripides, as they are. In this way the objection may be met.
(iv) If, however, the representation be of neither kind,
the poet may answer, 'This is how men say the thing is'. This applies to
tales about the gods. It may well be that these stories are not higher
than fact nor yet true to fact: they are, very possibly, [61a] what Xenophanes says of them. But anyhow,
'this is what is said.'
(v) Again, a description may be no better than the fact: 'Still, it was
the fact'; as in the passage about the arms: 'Upright upon their butt-
ends stood the spears.' This was the custom then, as it now is among the
Illyrians.
(vi) Again, in examining whether what has been said or done by some one
is poetically right or not, we must not look merely to the particular
act or saying, and ask whether it is poetically good or bad. We must
also consider by whom it is said or done, to whom, when, by what means,
or for what end; whether, for instance, it be to secure a greater good,
or avert a greater evil.
(vii) Other difficulties may be resolved by due regard to the usage of
language. We may note a rare word, as in oureas men proton, 'the
mules first [he killed],' where the poet perhaps employs oureas not in
the sense of mules, but of sentinels. So, again, of Dolon: 'ill-favored
indeed he was to look upon.' It is not meant that his body was ill-
shaped but that his face was ugly; for the Cretans use the word eueides,
'well-flavored' to denote a fair face. Again, zoroteron de
keraie, 'mix the drink livelier' does not mean 'mix it stronger' as
for hard drinkers, but 'mix it quicker.'
Sometimes an expression is metaphorical, as 'Now all gods and men were
sleeping through the night,' while at the same time the poet says:
'Often indeed as he turned his gaze to the Trojan plain, he marveled at
the sound of flutes and pipes.' 'All' is here used metaphorically for
'many,' all being a species of many. So in the verse, 'alone she hath no
part... , oie, 'alone' is metaphorical; for the best known may be
called the only one.
(viii) Again, the solution may depend upon accent or breathing. Thus
Hippias of Thasos solved the difficulties in the lines, didomen de
hoi, and to men hou kataputhetai ombro.
(ix) Or again, the question may be solved by punctuation, as in
Empedocles: 'Of a sudden things became mortal that before had learnt to
be immortal, and things unmixed before mixed.'
(x) Or again, by ambiguity of meaning, as parocheken de pleo nux,
where the word pleo is ambiguous.
(xi) Or by the usage of language. Thus any mixed drink is called
oinos, 'wine'. Hence Ganymede is said 'to pour the wine to Zeus,'
though the gods do not drink wine. So too workers in iron are called
chalkeas, or 'workers in bronze.' This, however, may also be
taken as a metaphor.
(xii) Again, when a word seems to involve some inconsistency of meaning,
we should consider how many senses it may bear in the particular
passage. For example: 'there was stayed the spear of bronze'-we should
ask in how many ways we may take 'being checked there.' The true mode of
interpretation is the precise opposite of [61b] what Glaucon mentions. Critics, he says,
jump at certain groundless conclusions; they pass adverse judgement and
then proceed to reason on it; and, assuming that the poet has said
whatever they happen to think, find fault if a thing is inconsistent
with their own fancy.
The question about Icarius has been treated in this fashion. The critics
imagine he was a Lacedaemonian. They think it strange, therefore, that
Telemachus should not have met him when he went to Lacedaemon. But the
Cephallenian story may perhaps be the true one. They allege that
Odysseus took a wife from among themselves, and that her father was
Icadius, not Icarius. It is merely a mistake, then, that gives
plausibility to the objection.
11.3 Conclusion: In general, the impossible must be justified by
reference to artistic requirements, or to the higher reality, or to
received opinion. With respect to the requirements of art, a probable
impossibility is to be preferred to a thing improbable and yet possible.
Again, it may be impossible that there should be men such as Zeuxis
painted. 'Yes,' we say, 'but the impossible is the higher thing; for the
ideal type must surpass the realty.' To justify the irrational, we
appeal to what is commonly said to be. In addition to which, we urge
that the irrational sometimes does not violate reason; just as 'it is
probable that a thing may happen contrary to probability.'
Things that sound contradictory should be examined by the same rules as
in dialectical refutation - whether the same thing is meant, in the
same relation, and in the same sense. We should therefore solve the
question by reference to what the poet says himself, or to what is
tacitly assumed by a person of intelligence.
The element of the irrational, and, similarly, depravity of character,
are justly censured when there is no inner necessity for introducing
them. Such is the irrational element in the introduction of
Aegeus by Euripides and the badness of Menelaus in the Orestes.
Thus, there are five sources from which critical objections are drawn.
Things are censured either as impossible, or irrational, or morally
hurtful, or contradictory, or contrary to artistic correctness. The
answers should be sought under the twelve heads above mentioned.
[26] The question may be raised whether the
epic or tragic mode of imitation is the higher.
12.1 The case against tragedy: If the more refined art is the
higher, and the more refined in every case is that which appeals to the
better sort of audience, the art which imitates anything and everything
is manifestly most unrefined. The audience is supposed to be too dull to
comprehend unless something of their own is thrown by the performers,
who therefore indulge in restless movements. Bad flute-players twist and
twirl, if they have to represent 'the quoit-throw,' or hustle the
coryphaeus when they perform the Scylla. Tragedy, it is said, has
this same defect. We may compare the opinion that the older actors
entertained of their successors. Mynniscus used to call Callippides
'ape' on account of the extravagance of his action, and the same view
was held of Pindarus. [62a] Tragic art,
then, as a whole, stands to epic in the same relation as the younger to
the elder actors. So we are told that epic poetry is addressed to a
cultivated audience, who do not need gesture; tragedy, to an inferior
public. Being then unrefined, it is evidently the lower of the two.
12.2 Reply: Now, in the first place, this censure attaches not to
the poetic but to the histrionic art; for gesticulation may be equally
overdone in epic recitation, as by Sosistratus, or in lyrical
competition, as by Mnasitheus the Opuntian. Next, all action is not to
be condemned-any more than all dancing - but only that of bad
performers. Such was the fault found in Callippides, as also in others
of our own day, who are censured for representing degraded women. Again,
tragedy like epic poetry produces its effect even without action; it
reveals its power by mere reading. If, then, in all other respects it is
superior, this fault, we say, is not inherent in it.
And superior it is, because it has all the epic elements
- it may even use the epic metre - with the music and spectacular
effects as important accessories; and these produce the most vivid of
pleasures. Further, it has vividness of impression in reading as well as
in representation. Moreover, the art attains its end
within narrower limits [62b] for the
concentrated effect is more pleasurable than one which is spread over a
long time and so diluted. What, for example, would be the effect of the
Oedipus of Sophocles, if it were cast into a form as long as the
Iliad? Once more, the epic imitation has less unity; as is shown
by this, that any epic poem will furnish subjects for several tragedies.
Thus if the story adopted by the poet has a strict unity, it must either
be concisely told and appear truncated; or, if it conforms to the epic
canon of length, it must seem weak and watery. [Such length implies some
loss of unity,] if, I mean, the poem is constructed out of several
actions, like the Iliad and the Odyssey, which have many
such parts, each with a certain magnitude of its own. Yet these poems
are as perfect as possible in structure; each is, in the highest degree
attainable, an imitation of a single action.
If, then, tragedy is superior to epic poetry in all
these respects, and, moreover, fulfils its specific function better as
an art -for each art ought to produce, not any chance pleasure, but the
pleasure proper to it, as already stated - it plainly follows that
tragedy is the higher art, as attaining its end more perfectly.
Thus much may suffice concerning tragic and epic poetry in general;
their several kinds and parts, with the number of each and their
differences; the causes that make a poem good or bad; the objections of
the critics and the answers to these objections... 2. Poetry as a species of imitation
3. The anthropology and history of poetry
4. Tragedy: definition and analysis
5. Plot: basic concepts
6. Plot: species and components
7. The best kinds of tragic plot
8. Other aspects of tragedy
9. Diction
10. Epic
11. Problems and solutions
[25] With respect
to critical difficulties and their solutions, the number and nature of
the sources from which they may be drawn may be thus exhibited.
12. Comparative evaluation of epic and tragedy
13. Conclusion
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updated on 1 January 1998