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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6763-h.zip b/6763-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a28d8b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/6763-h.zip diff --git a/6763-h/6763-h.htm b/6763-h/6763-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae2cea8 --- /dev/null +++ b/6763-h/6763-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2632 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + On the Art of Poetry, by Aristotle + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetics, by Aristotle + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Poetics + +Author: Aristotle + +Commentator: Gilbert Murray + +Translator: Ingram Bywater + +Release Date: May 2, 2009 [EBook #6763] +Last Updated: January 22, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETICS *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + ON THE ART OF POETRY + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Aristotle + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated By Ingram Bywater + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + With A Preface By Gilbert Murray + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oxford At The Clarendon Press + First Published 1920 + Reprinted 1925, 1928, 1932, 1938, 1945, 1947 + 1951, 1954, 1959. 1962 Printed In Great Britain +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a><br /><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>ARISTOTLE ON THE ART OF POETRY</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> 1 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> 2 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> 3 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> 4 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> 5 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> 6 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> 7 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> 8 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> 9 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> 10 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> 11 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> 12 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> 13 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> 14 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> 15 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> 16 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> 17 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> 18 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> 19 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> 20 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> 21 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> 22 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> 23 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> 24 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> 25 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> 26 </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + In the tenth book of the <i>Republic</i>, when Plato has completed his + final burning denunciation of Poetry, the false Siren, the imitator of + things which themselves are shadows, the ally of all that is low and weak + in the soul against that which is high and strong, who makes us feed the + things we ought to starve and serve the things we ought to rule, he ends + with a touch of compunction: 'We will give her champions, not poets + themselves but poet-lovers, an opportunity to make her defence in plain + prose and show that she is not only sweet—as we well know—but + also helpful to society and the life of man, and we will listen in a + kindly spirit. For we shall be gainers, I take it, if this can be proved.' + Aristotle certainly knew the passage, and it looks as if his treatise on + poetry was an answer to Plato's challenge. + </p> + <p> + Few of the great works of ancient Greek literature are easy reading. They + nearly all need study and comment, and at times help from a good teacher, + before they yield up their secret. And the <i>Poetics</i> cannot be + accounted an exception. For one thing the treatise is fragmentary. It + originally consisted of two books, one dealing with Tragedy and Epic, the + other with Comedy and other subjects. We possess only the first. For + another, even the book we have seems to be unrevised and unfinished. The + style, though luminous, vivid, and in its broader division systematic, is + not that of a book intended for publication. Like most of Aristotle's + extant writing, it suggests the MS. of an experienced lecturer, full of + jottings and adscripts, with occasional phrases written carefully out, but + never revised as a whole for the general reader. Even to accomplished + scholars the meaning is often obscure, as may be seen by a comparison of + the three editions recently published in England, all the work of savants + of the first eminence, (1) or, still more strikingly, by a study of the + long series of misunderstandings and overstatements and corrections which + form the history of the <i>Poetics</i> since the Renaissance. + </p> + <p> + (1) Prof. Butcher, 1895 and 1898; Prof. Bywater, 1909; and Prof. + Margoliouth, 1911. + </p> + <p> + But it is of another cause of misunderstanding that I wish principally to + speak in this preface. The great edition from which the present + translation is taken was the fruit of prolonged study by one of the + greatest Aristotelians of the nineteenth century, and is itself a classic + among works of scholarship. In the hands of a student who knows even a + little Greek, the translation, backed by the commentary, may lead deep + into the mind of Aristotle. But when the translation is used, as it + doubtless will be, by readers who are quite without the clue provided by a + knowledge of the general habits of the Greek language, there must arise a + number of new difficulties or misconceptions. + </p> + <p> + To understand a great foreign book by means of a translation is possible + enough where the two languages concerned operate with a common stock of + ideas, and belong to the same period of civilization. But between ancient + Greece and modern England there yawn immense gulfs of human history; the + establishment and the partial failure of a common European religion, the + barbarian invasions, the feudal system, the regrouping of modern Europe, + the age of mechanical invention, and the industrial revolution. In an + average page of French or German philosophy nearly all the nouns can be + translated directly into exact equivalents in English; but in Greek that + is not so. Scarcely one in ten of the nouns on the first few pages of the + <i>Poetics</i> has an exact English equivalent. Every proposition has to + be reduced to its lowest terms of thought and then re-built. This is a + difficulty which no translation can quite deal with; it must be left to a + teacher who knows Greek. And there is a kindred difficulty which flows + from it. Where words can be translated into equivalent words, the style of + an original can be closely followed; but no translation which aims at + being written in normal English can reproduce the style of Aristotle. I + have sometimes played with the idea that a ruthlessly literal translation, + helped out by bold punctuation, might be the best. For instance, premising + that the words <i>poesis</i>, <i>poetes</i> mean originally 'making' and + 'maker', one might translate the first paragraph of the <i>Poetics</i> + thus:— + </p> + <p> + MAKING: kinds of making: function of each, and how the Myths ought to be + put together if the Making is to go right. + </p> + <p> + Number of parts: nature of parts: rest of same inquiry. + </p> + <p> + Begin in order of nature from first principles. + </p> + <p> + Epos-making, tragedy-making (also comedy), dithyramb-making (and most + fluting and harping), taken as a whole, are really not Makings but + Imitations. They differ in three points; they imitate (a) different + objects, (b) by different means, (c) differently (i.e. different manner). + </p> + <p> + Some artists imitate (i.e. depict) by shapes and colours. (Obs. sometimes + by art, sometimes by habit.) Some by voice. Similarly the above arts all + imitate by rhythm, language, and tune, and these either (1) separate or + (2) mixed. + </p> + <p> + Rhythm and tune alone, harping, fluting, and other arts with same effect—e.g. + panpipes. + </p> + <p> + Rhythm without tune: dancing. (Dancers imitate characters, emotions, and + experiences by means of rhythms expressed in form.) + </p> + <p> + Language alone (whether prose or verse, and one form of verse or many): + this art has no name up to the present (i.e. there is no name to cover + mimes and dialogues and any similar imitation made in iambics, elegiacs, + &c. Commonly people attach the 'making' to the metre and say + 'elegiac-makers', 'hexameter-makers,' giving them a common class-name by + their metre, as if it was not their imitation that makes them 'makers'). + </p> + <p> + Such an experiment would doubtless be a little absurd, but it would give + an English reader some help in understanding both Aristotle's style and + his meaning. + </p> + <p> + For example, their enlightenment in the literal phrase, 'how the myths + ought to be put together.' The higher Greek poetry did not make up + fictitious plots; its business was to express the heroic saga, the myths. + Again, the literal translation of <i>poetes</i>, poet, as 'maker', helps + to explain a term that otherwise seems a puzzle in the <i>Poetics</i>. If + we wonder why Aristotle, and Plato before him, should lay such stress on + the theory that art is imitation, it is a help to realize that common + language called it 'making', and it was clearly not 'making' in the + ordinary sense. The poet who was 'maker' of a Fall of Troy clearly did not + make the real Fall of Troy. He made an imitation Fall of Troy. An artist + who 'painted Pericles' really 'made an imitation Pericles by means of + shapes and colours'. Hence we get started upon a theory of art which, + whether finally satisfactory or not, is of immense importance, and are + saved from the error of complaining that Aristotle did not understand the + 'creative power' of art. + </p> + <p> + As a rule, no doubt, the difficulty, even though merely verbal, lies + beyond the reach of so simple a tool as literal translation. To say that + tragedy 'imitates good men' while comedy 'imitates bad men' strikes a + modern reader as almost meaningless. The truth is that neither 'good' nor + 'bad' is an exact equivalent of the Greek. It would be nearer perhaps to + say that, relatively speaking, you look up to the characters of tragedy, + and down upon those of comedy. High or low, serious or trivial, many other + pairs of words would have to be called in, in order to cover the wide + range of the common Greek words. And the point is important, because we + have to consider whether in Chapter VI Aristotle really lays it down that + tragedy, so far from being the story of un-happiness that we think it, is + properly an imitation of <i>eudaimonia</i>—a word often translated + 'happiness', but meaning something more like 'high life' or 'blessedness'. + (1) + </p> + <p> + (1) See Margoliouth, p. 121. By water, with most editors, emends the text. + </p> + <p> + Another difficult word which constantly recurs in the <i>Poetics</i> is <i>prattein</i> + or <i>praxis</i>, generally translated 'to act' or 'action'. But <i>prattein</i>, + like our 'do', also has an intransitive meaning 'to fare' either well or + ill; and Professor Margoliouth has pointed out that it seems more true to + say that tragedy shows how men 'fare' than how they 'act'. It shows their + experiences or fortunes rather than merely their deeds. But one must not + draw the line too bluntly. I should doubt whether a classical Greek writer + was ordinarily conscious of the distinction between the two meanings. + Certainly it is easier to regard happiness as a way of faring than as a + form of action. Yet Aristotle can use the passive of <i>prattein</i> for + things 'done' or 'gone through' (e.g. 52a, 22, 29: 55a, 25). + </p> + <p> + The fact is that much misunderstanding is often caused by our modern + attempts to limit too strictly the meaning of a Greek word. Greek was very + much a live language, and a language still unconscious of grammar, not, + like ours, dominated by definitions and trained upon dictionaries. An + instance is provided by Aristotle's famous saying that the typical tragic + hero is one who falls from high state or fame, not through vice or + depravity, but by some great <i>hamartia</i>. <i>Hamartia</i> means + originally a 'bad shot' or 'error', but is currently used for 'offence' or + 'sin'. Aristotle clearly means that the typical hero is a great man with + 'something wrong' in his life or character; but I think it is a mistake of + method to argue whether he means 'an intellectual error' or 'a moral + flaw'. The word is not so precise. + </p> + <p> + Similarly, when Aristotle says that a deed of strife or disaster is more + tragic when it occurs 'amid affections' or 'among people who love each + other', no doubt the phrase, as Aristotle's own examples show, would + primarily suggest to a Greek feuds between near relations. Yet some of the + meaning is lost if one translates simply 'within the family'. + </p> + <p> + There is another series of obscurities or confusions in the <i>Poetics</i> + which, unless I am mistaken, arises from the fact that Aristotle was + writing at a time when the great age of Greek tragedy was long past, and + was using language formed in previous generations. The words and phrases + remained in the tradition, but the forms of art and activity which they + denoted had sometimes changed in the interval. If we date the <i>Poetics</i> + about the year 330 B.C., as seems probable, that is more than two hundred + years after the first tragedy of Thespis was produced in Athens, and more + than seventy after the death of the last great masters of the tragic + stage. When we remember that a training in music and poetry formed a + prominent part of the education of every wellborn Athenian, we cannot be + surprised at finding in Aristotle, and to a less extent in Plato, + considerable traces of a tradition of technical language and even of + aesthetic theory. + </p> + <p> + It is doubtless one of Aristotle's great services that he conceived so + clearly the truth that literature is a thing that grows and has a history. + But no writer, certainly no ancient writer, is always vigilant. Sometimes + Aristotle analyses his terms, but very often he takes them for granted; + and in the latter case, I think, he is sometimes deceived by them. Thus + there seem to be cases where he has been affected in his conceptions of + fifth-century tragedy by the practice of his own day, when the only living + form of drama was the New Comedy. + </p> + <p> + For example, as we have noticed above, true Tragedy had always taken its + material from the sacred myths, or heroic sagas, which to the classical + Greek constituted history. But the New Comedy was in the habit of + inventing its plots. Consequently Aristotle falls into using the word <i>mythos</i> + practically in the sense of 'plot', and writing otherwise in a way that is + unsuited to the tragedy of the fifth century. He says that tragedy adheres + to 'the historical names' for an aesthetic reason, because what has + happened is obviously possible and therefore convincing. The real reason + was that the drama and the myth were simply two different expressions of + the same religious kernel (p. 44). Again, he says of the Chorus (p. 65) + that it should be an integral part of the play, which is true; but he also + says that it' should be regarded as one of the actors', which shows to + what an extent the Chorus in his day was dead and its technique forgotten. + He had lost the sense of what the Chorus was in the hands of the great + masters, say in the Bacchae or the Eumenides. He mistakes, again, the use + of that epiphany of a God which is frequent at the end of the single plays + of Euripides, and which seems to have been equally so at the end of the + trilogies of Aeschylus. Having lost the living tradition, he sees neither + the ritual origin nor the dramatic value of these divine epiphanies. He + thinks of the convenient gods and abstractions who sometimes spoke the + prologues of the New Comedy, and imagines that the God appears in order to + unravel the plot. As a matter of fact, in one play which he often quotes, + the <i>Iphigenia Taurica</i>, the plot is actually distorted at the very + end in order to give an opportunity for the epiphany.(1) + </p> + <p> + (1) See my <i>Euripides and his Age</i>, pp. 221-45. + </p> + <p> + One can see the effect of the tradition also in his treatment of the terms + Anagnorisis and Peripeteia, which Professor Bywater translates as + 'Discovery and Peripety' and Professor Butcher as 'Recognition and + Reversal of Fortune'. Aristotle assumes that these two elements are + normally present in any tragedy, except those which he calls 'simple'; we + may say, roughly, in any tragedy that really has a plot. This strikes a + modern reader as a very arbitrary assumption. Reversals of Fortune of some + sort are perhaps usual in any varied plot, but surely not Recognitions? + The clue to the puzzle lies, it can scarcely be doubted, in the historical + origin of tragedy. Tragedy, according to Greek tradition, is originally + the ritual play of Dionysus, performed at his festival, and representing, + as Herodotus tells us, the 'sufferings' or 'passion' of that God. We are + never directly told what these 'sufferings' were which were so + represented; but Herodotus remarks that he found in Egypt a ritual that + was 'in almost all points the same'. (1) This was the well-known ritual of + Osiris, in which the god was torn in pieces, lamented, searched for, + discovered or recognized, and the mourning by a sudden Reversal turned + into joy. In any tragedy which still retained the stamp of its Dionysiac + origin, this Discovery and Peripety might normally be expected to occur, + and to occur together. I have tried to show elsewhere how many of our + extant tragedies do, as a matter of fact, show the marks of this + ritual.(2) + </p> + <p> + (1) Cf. Hdt. ii. 48; cf. 42,144. The name of Dionysus must not be openly + mentioned in connexion with mourning (ib. 61, 132, 86). This may help to + explain the transference of the tragic shows to other heroes. + </p> + <p> + (2) In Miss Harrison's <i>Themis</i>, pp. 341-63. + </p> + <p> + I hope it is not rash to surmise that the much-debated word __katharsis__, + 'purification' or 'purgation', may have come into Aristotle's mouth from + the same source. It has all the appearance of being an old word which is + accepted and re-interpreted by Aristotle rather than a word freely chosen + by him to denote the exact phenomenon he wishes to describe. At any rate + the Dionysus ritual itself was a <i>katharmos</i> or <i>katharsis</i>—a + purification of the community from the taints and poisons of the past + year, the old contagion of sin and death. And the words of Aristotle's + definition of tragedy in Chapter VI might have been used in the days of + Thespis in a much cruder and less metaphorical sense. According to + primitive ideas, the mimic representation on the stage of 'incidents + arousing pity and fear' did act as a <i>katharsis</i> of such 'passions' + or 'sufferings' in real life. (For the word <i>pathemata</i> means + 'sufferings' as well as 'passions'.) It is worth remembering that in the + year 361 B.C., during Aristotle's lifetime, Greek tragedies were + introduced into Rome, not on artistic but on superstitious grounds, as a + <i>katharmos</i> against a pestilence (Livy vii. 2). One cannot but + suspect that in his account of the purpose of tragedy Aristotle may be + using an old traditional formula, and consciously or unconsciously + investing it with a new meaning, much as he has done with the word <i>mythos</i>. + </p> + <p> + Apart from these historical causes of misunderstanding, a good teacher who + uses this book with a class will hardly fail to point out numerous points + on which two equally good Greek scholars may well differ in the mere + interpretation of the words. What, for instance, are the 'two natural + causes' in Chapter IV which have given birth to Poetry? Are they, as our + translator takes them, (1) that man is imitative, and (2) that people + delight in imitations? Or are they (1) that man is imitative and people + delight in imitations, and (2) the instinct for rhythm, as Professor + Butcher prefers? Is it a 'creature' a thousand miles long, or a 'picture' + a thousand miles long which raises some trouble in Chapter VII? The word + <i>zoon</i> means equally 'picture' and 'animal'. Did the older poets make + their characters speak like 'statesmen', <i>politikoi</i>, or merely like + ordinary citizens, <i>politai</i>, while the moderns made theirs like + 'professors of rhetoric'? (Chapter VI, p. 38; cf. Margoliouth's note and + glossary). + </p> + <p> + It may seem as if the large uncertainties which we have indicated detract + in a ruinous manner from the value of the <i>Poetics</i> to us as a work + of criticism. Certainly if any young writer took this book as a manual of + rules by which to 'commence poet', he would find himself embarrassed. But, + if the book is properly read, not as a dogmatic text-book but as a first + attempt, made by a man of astounding genius, to build up in the region of + creative art a rational order like that which he established in logic, + rhetoric, ethics, politics, physics, psychology, and almost every + department of knowledge that existed in his day, then the uncertainties + become rather a help than a discouragement. They give us occasion to think + and use our imagination. They make us, to the best of our powers, try + really to follow and criticize closely the bold gropings of an + extraordinary thinker; and it is in this process, and not in any mere + collection of dogmatic results, that we shall find the true value and + beauty of the <i>Poetics</i>. + </p> + <p> + The book is of permanent value as a mere intellectual achievement; as a + store of information about Greek literature; and as an original or + first-hand statement of what we may call the classical view of artistic + criticism. It does not regard poetry as a matter of unanalysed + inspiration; it makes no concession to personal whims or fashion or <i>ennui</i>. + It tries by rational methods to find out what is good in art and what + makes it good, accepting the belief that there is just as truly a good + way, and many bad ways, in poetry as in morals or in playing billiards. + This is no place to try to sum up its main conclusions. But it is + characteristic of the classical view that Aristotle lays his greatest + stress, first, on the need for Unity in the work of art, the need that + each part should subserve the whole, while irrelevancies, however + brilliant in themselves, should be cast away; and next, on the demand that + great art must have for its subject the great way of living. These + judgements have often been misunderstood, but the truth in them is + profound and goes near to the heart of things. + </p> + <p> + Characteristic, too, is the observation that different kinds of art grow + and develop, but not indefinitely; they develop until they 'attain their + natural form'; also the rule that each form of art should produce 'not + every sort of pleasure but its proper pleasure'; and the sober language in + which Aristotle, instead of speaking about the sequence of events in a + tragedy being 'inevitable', as we bombastic moderns do, merely recommends + that they should be 'either necessary or probable' and 'appear to happen + because of one another'. + </p> + <p> + Conceptions and attitudes of mind such as these constitute what we may + call the classical faith in matters of art and poetry; a faith which is + never perhaps fully accepted in any age, yet, unlike others, is never + forgotten but lives by being constantly criticized, re-asserted, and + rebelled against. For the fashions of the ages vary in this direction and + that, but they vary for the most part from a central road which was struck + out by the imagination of Greece. + </p> + <p> + G. M <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ARISTOTLE ON THE ART OF POETRY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 1 + </h2> + <p> + Our subject being Poetry, I propose to speak not only of the art in + general but also of its species and their respective capacities; of the + structure of plot required for a good poem; of the number and nature of + the constituent parts of a poem; and likewise of any other matters in the + same line of inquiry. Let us follow the natural order and begin with the + primary facts. + </p> + <p> + Epic poetry and Tragedy, as also Comedy, Dithyrambic poetry, and most + flute-playing and lyre-playing, are all, viewed as a whole, modes of + imitation. But at the same time they differ from one another in three + ways, either by a difference of kind in their means, or by differences in + the objects, or in the manner of their imitations. + </p> + <p> + I. Just as form and colour are used as means by some, who (whether by art + or constant practice) imitate and portray many things by their aid, and + the voice is used by others; so also in the above-mentioned group of arts, + the means with them as a whole are rhythm, language, and harmony—used, + however, either singly or in certain combinations. A combination of rhythm + and harmony alone is the means in flute-playing and lyre-playing, and any + other arts there may be of the same description, e.g. imitative piping. + Rhythm alone, without harmony, is the means in the dancer's imitations; + for even he, by the rhythms of his attitudes, may represent men's + characters, as well as what they do and suffer. There is further an art + which imitates by language alone, without harmony, in prose or in verse, + and if in verse, either in some one or in a plurality of metres. This form + of imitation is to this day without a name. We have no common name for a + mime of Sophron or Xenarchus and a Socratic Conversation; and we should + still be without one even if the imitation in the two instances were in + trimeters or elegiacs or some other kind of verse—though it is the + way with people to tack on 'poet' to the name of a metre, and talk of + elegiac-poets and epic-poets, thinking that they call them poets not by + reason of the imitative nature of their work, but indiscriminately by + reason of the metre they write in. Even if a theory of medicine or + physical philosophy be put forth in a metrical form, it is usual to + describe the writer in this way; Homer and Empedocles, however, have + really nothing in common apart from their metre; so that, if the one is to + be called a poet, the other should be termed a physicist rather than a + poet. We should be in the same position also, if the imitation in these + instances were in all the metres, like the <i>Centaur</i> (a rhapsody in a + medley of all metres) of Chaeremon; and Chaeremon one has to recognize as + a poet. So much, then, as to these arts. There are, lastly, certain other + arts, which combine all the means enumerated, rhythm, melody, and verse, + e.g. Dithyrambic and Nomic poetry, Tragedy and Comedy; with this + difference, however, that the three kinds of means are in some of them all + employed together, and in others brought in separately, one after the + other. These elements of difference in the above arts I term the means of + their imitation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 2 + </h2> + <p> + II. The objects the imitator represents are actions, with agents who are + necessarily either good men or bad—the diversities of human + character being nearly always derivative from this primary distinction, + since the line between virtue and vice is one dividing the whole of + mankind. It follows, therefore, that the agents represented must be either + above our own level of goodness, or beneath it, or just such as we are in + the same way as, with the painters, the personages of Polygnotus are + better than we are, those of Pauson worse, and those of Dionysius just + like ourselves. It is clear that each of the above-mentioned arts will + admit of these differences, and that it will become a separate art by + representing objects with this point of difference. Even in dancing, + flute-playing, and lyre-playing such diversities are possible; and they + are also possible in the nameless art that uses language, prose or verse + without harmony, as its means; Homer's personages, for instance, are + better than we are; Cleophon's are on our own level; and those of Hegemon + of Thasos, the first writer of parodies, and Nicochares, the author of the + <i>Diliad</i>, are beneath it. The same is true of the Dithyramb and the + Nome: the personages may be presented in them with the difference + exemplified in the... of... and Argas, and in the Cyclopses of Timotheus + and Philoxenus. This difference it is that distinguishes Tragedy and + Comedy also; the one would make its personages worse, and the other + better, than the men of the present day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 3 + </h2> + <p> + III. A third difference in these arts is in the manner in which each kind + of object is represented. Given both the same means and the same kind of + object for imitation, one may either (1) speak at one moment in narrative + and at another in an assumed character, as Homer does; or (2) one may + remain the same throughout, without any such change; or (3) the imitators + may represent the whole story dramatically, as though they were actually + doing the things described. + </p> + <p> + As we said at the beginning, therefore, the differences in the imitation + of these arts come under three heads, their means, their objects, and + their manner. + </p> + <p> + So that as an imitator Sophocles will be on one side akin to Homer, both + portraying good men; and on another to Aristophanes, since both present + their personages as acting and doing. This in fact, according to some, is + the reason for plays being termed dramas, because in a play the personages + act the story. Hence too both Tragedy and Comedy are claimed by the + Dorians as their discoveries; Comedy by the Megarians—by those in + Greece as having arisen when Megara became a democracy, and by the + Sicilian Megarians on the ground that the poet Epicharmus was of their + country, and a good deal earlier than Chionides and Magnes; even Tragedy + also is claimed by certain of the Peloponnesian Dorians. In support of + this claim they point to the words 'comedy' and 'drama'. Their word for + the outlying hamlets, they say, is comae, whereas Athenians call them + demes—thus assuming that comedians got the name not from their <i>comoe</i> + or revels, but from their strolling from hamlet to hamlet, lack of + appreciation keeping them out of the city. Their word also for 'to act', + they say, is <i>dran</i>, whereas Athenians use <i>prattein</i>. + </p> + <p> + So much, then, as to the number and nature of the points of difference in + the imitation of these arts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 4 + </h2> + <p> + It is clear that the general origin of poetry was due to two causes, each + of them part of human nature. Imitation is natural to man from childhood, + one of his advantages over the lower animals being this, that he is the + most imitative creature in the world, and learns at first by imitation. + And it is also natural for all to delight in works of imitation. The truth + of this second point is shown by experience: though the objects themselves + may be painful to see, we delight to view the most realistic + representations of them in art, the forms for example of the lowest + animals and of dead bodies. The explanation is to be found in a further + fact: to be learning something is the greatest of pleasures not only to + the philosopher but also to the rest of mankind, however small their + capacity for it; the reason of the delight in seeing the picture is that + one is at the same time learning—gathering the meaning of things, + e.g. that the man there is so-and-so; for if one has not seen the thing + before, one's pleasure will not be in the picture as an imitation of it, + but will be due to the execution or colouring or some similar cause. + Imitation, then, being natural to us—as also the sense of harmony + and rhythm, the metres being obviously species of rhythms—it was + through their original aptitude, and by a series of improvements for the + most part gradual on their first efforts, that they created poetry out of + their improvisations. + </p> + <p> + Poetry, however, soon broke up into two kinds according to the differences + of character in the individual poets; for the graver among them would + represent noble actions, and those of noble personages; and the meaner + sort the actions of the ignoble. The latter class produced invectives at + first, just as others did hymns and panegyrics. We know of no such poem by + any of the pre-Homeric poets, though there were probably many such writers + among them; instances, however, may be found from Homer downwards, e.g. + his <i>Margites</i>, and the similar poems of others. In this poetry of + invective its natural fitness brought an iambic metre into use; hence our + present term 'iambic', because it was the metre of their 'iambs' or + invectives against one another. The result was that the old poets became + some of them writers of heroic and others of iambic verse. Homer's + position, however, is peculiar: just as he was in the serious style the + poet of poets, standing alone not only through the literary excellence, + but also through the dramatic character of his imitations, so too he was + the first to outline for us the general forms of Comedy by producing not a + dramatic invective, but a dramatic picture of the Ridiculous; his <i>Margites</i> + in fact stands in the same relation to our comedies as the <i>Iliad</i> + and <i>Odyssey</i> to our tragedies. As soon, however, as Tragedy and + Comedy appeared in the field, those naturally drawn to the one line of + poetry became writers of comedies instead of iambs, and those naturally + drawn to the other, writers of tragedies instead of epics, because these + new modes of art were grander and of more esteem than the old. + </p> + <p> + If it be asked whether Tragedy is now all that it need be in its formative + elements, to consider that, and decide it theoretically and in relation to + the theatres, is a matter for another inquiry. + </p> + <p> + It certainly began in improvisations—as did also Comedy; the one + originating with the authors of the Dithyramb, the other with those of the + phallic songs, which still survive as institutions in many of our cities. + And its advance after that was little by little, through their improving + on whatever they had before them at each stage. It was in fact only after + a long series of changes that the movement of Tragedy stopped on its + attaining to its natural form. (1) The number of actors was first + increased to two by Aeschylus, who curtailed the business of the Chorus, + and made the dialogue, or spoken portion, take the leading part in the + play. (2) A third actor and scenery were due to Sophocles. (3) Tragedy + acquired also its magnitude. Discarding short stories and a ludicrous + diction, through its passing out of its satyric stage, it assumed, though + only at a late point in its progress, a tone of dignity; and its metre + changed then from trochaic to iambic. The reason for their original use of + the trochaic tetrameter was that their poetry was satyric and more + connected with dancing than it now is. As soon, however, as a spoken part + came in, nature herself found the appropriate metre. The iambic, we know, + is the most speakable of metres, as is shown by the fact that we very + often fall into it in conversation, whereas we rarely talk hexameters, and + only when we depart from the speaking tone of voice. (4) Another change + was a plurality of episodes or acts. As for the remaining matters, the + superadded embellishments and the account of their introduction, these + must be taken as said, as it would probably be a long piece of work to go + through the details. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 5 + </h2> + <p> + As for Comedy, it is (as has been observed) an imitation of men worse than + the average; worse, however, not as regards any and every sort of fault, + but only as regards one particular kind, the Ridiculous, which is a + species of the Ugly. The Ridiculous may be defined as a mistake or + deformity not productive of pain or harm to others; the mask, for + instance, that excites laughter, is something ugly and distorted without + causing pain. + </p> + <p> + Though the successive changes in Tragedy and their authors are not + unknown, we cannot say the same of Comedy; its early stages passed + unnoticed, because it was not as yet taken up in a serious way. It was + only at a late point in its progress that a chorus of comedians was + officially granted by the archon; they used to be mere volunteers. It had + also already certain definite forms at the time when the record of those + termed comic poets begins. Who it was who supplied it with masks, or + prologues, or a plurality of actors and the like, has remained unknown. + The invented Fable, or Plot, however, originated in Sicily, with + Epicharmus and Phormis; of Athenian poets Crates was the first to drop the + Comedy of invective and frame stories of a general and non-personal + nature, in other words, Fables or Plots. + </p> + <p> + Epic poetry, then, has been seen to agree with Tragedy to this extent, + that of being an imitation of serious subjects in a grand kind of verse. + It differs from it, however, (1) in that it is in one kind of verse and in + narrative form; and (2) in its length—which is due to its action + having no fixed limit of time, whereas Tragedy endeavours to keep as far + as possible within a single circuit of the sun, or something near that. + This, I say, is another point of difference between them, though at first + the practice in this respect was just the same in tragedies as in epic + poems. They differ also (3) in their constituents, some being common to + both and others peculiar to Tragedy—hence a judge of good and bad in + Tragedy is a judge of that in epic poetry also. All the parts of an epic + are included in Tragedy; but those of Tragedy are not all of them to be + found in the Epic. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 6 + </h2> + <p> + Reserving hexameter poetry and Comedy for consideration hereafter, let us + proceed now to the discussion of Tragedy; before doing so, however, we + must gather up the definition resulting from what has been said. A + tragedy, then, is the imitation of an action that is serious and also, as + having magnitude, complete in itself; in language with pleasurable + accessories, each kind brought in separately in the parts of the work; in + a dramatic, not in a narrative form; with incidents arousing pity and + fear, wherewith to accomplish its catharsis of such emotions. Here by + 'language with pleasurable accessories' I mean that with rhythm and + harmony or song superadded; and by 'the kinds separately' I mean that some + portions are worked out with verse only, and others in turn with song. + </p> + <p> + I. As they act the stories, it follows that in the first place the + Spectacle (or stage-appearance of the actors) must be some part of the + whole; and in the second Melody and Diction, these two being the means of + their imitation. Here by 'Diction' I mean merely this, the composition of + the verses; and by 'Melody', what is too completely understood to require + explanation. But further: the subject represented also is an action; and + the action involves agents, who must necessarily have their distinctive + qualities both of character and thought, since it is from these that we + ascribe certain qualities to their actions. There are in the natural order + of things, therefore, two causes, Character and Thought, of their actions, + and consequently of their success or failure in their lives. Now the + action (that which was done) is represented in the play by the Fable or + Plot. The Fable, in our present sense of the term, is simply this, the + combination of the incidents, or things done in the story; whereas + Character is what makes us ascribe certain moral qualities to the agents; + and Thought is shown in all they say when proving a particular point or, + it may be, enunciating a general truth. There are six parts consequently + of every tragedy, as a whole, that is, of such or such quality, viz. a + Fable or Plot, Characters, Diction, Thought, Spectacle and Melody; two of + them arising from the means, one from the manner, and three from the + objects of the dramatic imitation; and there is nothing else besides these + six. Of these, its formative elements, then, not a few of the dramatists + have made due use, as every play, one may say, admits of Spectacle, + Character, Fable, Diction, Melody, and Thought. + </p> + <p> + II. The most important of the six is the combination of the incidents of + the story. + </p> + <p> + Tragedy is essentially an imitation not of persons but of action and life, + of happiness and misery. All human happiness or misery takes the form of + action; the end for which we live is a certain kind of activity, not a + quality. Character gives us qualities, but it is in our actions—what + we do—that we are happy or the reverse. In a play accordingly they + do not act in order to portray the Characters; they include the Characters + for the sake of the action. So that it is the action in it, i.e. its Fable + or Plot, that is the end and purpose of the tragedy; and the end is + everywhere the chief thing. Besides this, a tragedy is impossible without + action, but there may be one without Character. The tragedies of most of + the moderns are characterless—a defect common among poets of all + kinds, and with its counterpart in painting in Zeuxis as compared with + Polygnotus; for whereas the latter is strong in character, the work of + Zeuxis is devoid of it. And again: one may string together a series of + characteristic speeches of the utmost finish as regards Diction and + Thought, and yet fail to produce the true tragic effect; but one will have + much better success with a tragedy which, however inferior in these + respects, has a Plot, a combination of incidents, in it. And again: the + most powerful elements of attraction in Tragedy, the Peripeties and + Discoveries, are parts of the Plot. A further proof is in the fact that + beginners succeed earlier with the Diction and Characters than with the + construction of a story; and the same may be said of nearly all the early + dramatists. We maintain, therefore, that the first essential, the life and + soul, so to speak, of Tragedy is the Plot; and that the Characters come + second—compare the parallel in painting, where the most beautiful + colours laid on without order will not give one the same pleasure as a + simple black-and-white sketch of a portrait. We maintain that Tragedy is + primarily an imitation of action, and that it is mainly for the sake of + the action that it imitates the personal agents. Third comes the element + of Thought, i.e. the power of saying whatever can be said, or what is + appropriate to the occasion. This is what, in the speeches in Tragedy, + falls under the arts of Politics and Rhetoric; for the older poets make + their personages discourse like statesmen, and the moderns like + rhetoricians. One must not confuse it with Character. Character in a play + is that which reveals the moral purpose of the agents, i.e. the sort of + thing they seek or avoid, where that is not obvious—hence there is + no room for Character in a speech on a purely indifferent subject. + Thought, on the other hand, is shown in all they say when proving or + disproving some particular point, or enunciating some universal + proposition. Fourth among the literary elements is the Diction of the + personages, i.e. as before explained, the expression of their thoughts in + words, which is practically the same thing with verse as with prose. As + for the two remaining parts, the Melody is the greatest of the pleasurable + accessories of Tragedy. The Spectacle, though an attraction, is the least + artistic of all the parts, and has least to do with the art of poetry. The + tragic effect is quite possible without a public performance and actors; + and besides, the getting-up of the Spectacle is more a matter for the + costumier than the poet. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 7 + </h2> + <p> + Having thus distinguished the parts, let us now consider the proper + construction of the Fable or Plot, as that is at once the first and the + most important thing in Tragedy. We have laid it down that a tragedy is an + imitation of an action that is complete in itself, as a whole of some + magnitude; for a whole may be of no magnitude to speak of. Now a whole is + that which has beginning, middle, and end. A beginning is that which is + not itself necessarily after anything else, and which has naturally + something else after it; an end is that which is naturally after something + itself, either as its necessary or usual consequent, and with nothing else + after it; and a middle, that which is by nature after one thing and has + also another after it. A well-constructed Plot, therefore, cannot either + begin or end at any point one likes; beginning and end in it must be of + the forms just described. Again: to be beautiful, a living creature, and + every whole made up of parts, must not only present a certain order in its + arrangement of parts, but also be of a certain definite magnitude. Beauty + is a matter of size and order, and therefore impossible either (1) in a + very minute creature, since our perception becomes indistinct as it + approaches instantaneity; or (2) in a creature of vast size—one, + say, 1,000 miles long—as in that case, instead of the object being + seen all at once, the unity and wholeness of it is lost to the beholder. + </p> + <p> + Just in the same way, then, as a beautiful whole made up of parts, or a + beautiful living creature, must be of some size, a size to be taken in by + the eye, so a story or Plot must be of some length, but of a length to be + taken in by the memory. As for the limit of its length, so far as that is + relative to public performances and spectators, it does not fall within + the theory of poetry. If they had to perform a hundred tragedies, they + would be timed by water-clocks, as they are said to have been at one + period. The limit, however, set by the actual nature of the thing is this: + the longer the story, consistently with its being comprehensible as a + whole, the finer it is by reason of its magnitude. As a rough general + formula, 'a length which allows of the hero passing by a series of + probable or necessary stages from misfortune to happiness, or from + happiness to misfortune', may suffice as a limit for the magnitude of the + story. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 8 + </h2> + <p> + The Unity of a Plot does not consist, as some suppose, in its having one + man as its subject. An infinity of things befall that one man, some of + which it is impossible to reduce to unity; and in like manner there are + many actions of one man which cannot be made to form one action. One sees, + therefore, the mistake of all the poets who have written a <i>Heracleid</i>, + a <i>Theseid</i>, or similar poems; they suppose that, because Heracles + was one man, the story also of Heracles must be one story. Homer, however, + evidently understood this point quite well, whether by art or instinct, + just in the same way as he excels the rest in every other respect. In + writing an <i>Odyssey</i>, he did not make the poem cover all that ever + befell his hero—it befell him, for instance, to get wounded on + Parnassus and also to feign madness at the time of the call to arms, but + the two incidents had no probable or necessary connexion with one another—instead + of doing that, he took an action with a Unity of the kind we are + describing as the subject of the <i>Odyssey</i>, as also of the <i>Iliad</i>. + The truth is that, just as in the other imitative arts one imitation is + always of one thing, so in poetry the story, as an imitation of action, + must represent one action, a complete whole, with its several incidents so + closely connected that the transposal or withdrawal of any one of them + will disjoin and dislocate the whole. For that which makes no perceptible + difference by its presence or absence is no real part of the whole. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 9 + </h2> + <p> + From what we have said it will be seen that the poet's function is to + describe, not the thing that has happened, but a kind of thing that might + happen, i.e. what is possible as being probable or necessary. The + distinction between historian and poet is not in the one writing prose and + the other verse—you might put the work of Herodotus into verse, and + it would still be a species of history; it consists really in this, that + the one describes the thing that has been, and the other a kind of thing + that might be. Hence poetry is something more philosophic and of graver + import than history, since its statements are of the nature rather of + universals, whereas those of history are singulars. By a universal + statement I mean one as to what such or such a kind of man will probably + or necessarily say or do—which is the aim of poetry, though it + affixes proper names to the characters; by a singular statement, one as to + what, say, Alcibiades did or had done to him. In Comedy this has become + clear by this time; it is only when their plot is already made up of + probable incidents that they give it a basis of proper names, choosing for + the purpose any names that may occur to them, instead of writing like the + old iambic poets about particular persons. In Tragedy, however, they still + adhere to the historic names; and for this reason: what convinces is the + possible; now whereas we are not yet sure as to the possibility of that + which has not happened, that which has happened is manifestly possible, + else it would not have come to pass. Nevertheless even in Tragedy there + are some plays with but one or two known names in them, the rest being + inventions; and there are some without a single known name, e.g. Agathon's + Anthens, in which both incidents and names are of the poet's invention; + and it is no less delightful on that account. So that one must not aim at + a rigid adherence to the traditional stories on which tragedies are based. + It would be absurd, in fact, to do so, as even the known stories are only + known to a few, though they are a delight none the less to all. + </p> + <p> + It is evident from the above that, the poet must be more the poet of his + stories or Plots than of his verses, inasmuch as he is a poet by virtue of + the imitative element in his work, and it is actions that he imitates. And + if he should come to take a subject from actual history, he is none the + less a poet for that; since some historic occurrences may very well be in + the probable and possible order of things; and it is in that aspect of + them that he is their poet. + </p> + <p> + Of simple Plots and actions the episodic are the worst. I call a Plot + episodic when there is neither probability nor necessity in the sequence + of episodes. Actions of this sort bad poets construct through their own + fault, and good ones on account of the players. His work being for public + performance, a good poet often stretches out a Plot beyond its + capabilities, and is thus obliged to twist the sequence of incident. + </p> + <p> + Tragedy, however, is an imitation not only of a complete action, but also + of incidents arousing pity and fear. Such incidents have the very greatest + effect on the mind when they occur unexpectedly and at the same time in + consequence of one another; there is more of the marvellous in them then + than if they happened of themselves or by mere chance. Even matters of + chance seem most marvellous if there is an appearance of design as it were + in them; as for instance the statue of Mitys at Argos killed the author of + Mitys' death by falling down on him when a looker-on at a public + spectacle; for incidents like that we think to be not without a meaning. A + Plot, therefore, of this sort is necessarily finer than others. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 10 + </h2> + <p> + Plots are either simple or complex, since the actions they represent are + naturally of this twofold description. The action, proceeding in the way + defined, as one continuous whole, I call simple, when the change in the + hero's fortunes takes place without Peripety or Discovery; and complex, + when it involves one or the other, or both. These should each of them + arise out of the structure of the Plot itself, so as to be the + consequence, necessary or probable, of the antecedents. There is a great + difference between a thing happening <i>propter hoc</i> and <i>post hoc</i>. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 11 + </h2> + <p> + A Peripety is the change from one state of things within the play to its + opposite of the kind described, and that too in the way we are saying, in + the probable or necessary sequence of events; as it is for instance in <i>Oedipus</i>: + here the opposite state of things is produced by the Messenger, who, + coming to gladden Oedipus and to remove his fears as to his mother, + reveals the secret of his birth. And in <i>Lynceus</i>: just as he is + being led off for execution, with Danaus at his side to put him to death, + the incidents preceding this bring it about that he is saved and Danaus + put to death. A Discovery is, as the very word implies, a change from + ignorance to knowledge, and thus to either love or hate, in the personages + marked for good or evil fortune. The finest form of Discovery is one + attended by Peripeties, like that which goes with the Discovery in <i>Oedipus</i>. + There are no doubt other forms of it; what we have said may happen in a + way in reference to inanimate things, even things of a very casual kind; + and it is also possible to discover whether some one has done or not done + something. But the form most directly connected with the Plot and the + action of the piece is the first-mentioned. This, with a Peripety, will + arouse either pity or fear—actions of that nature being what Tragedy + is assumed to represent; and it will also serve to bring about the happy + or unhappy ending. The Discovery, then, being of persons, it may be that + of one party only to the other, the latter being already known; or both + the parties may have to discover themselves. Iphigenia, for instance, was + discovered to Orestes by sending the letter; and another Discovery was + required to reveal him to Iphigenia. + </p> + <p> + Two parts of the Plot, then, Peripety and Discovery, are on matters of + this sort. A third part is Suffering; which we may define as an action of + a destructive or painful nature, such as murders on the stage, tortures, + woundings, and the like. The other two have been already explained. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 12 + </h2> + <p> + The parts of Tragedy to be treated as formative elements in the whole were + mentioned in a previous Chapter. From the point of view, however, of its + quantity, i.e. the separate sections into which it is divided, a tragedy + has the following parts: Prologue, Episode, Exode, and a choral portion, + distinguished into Parode and Stasimon; these two are common to all + tragedies, whereas songs from the stage and Commoe are only found in some. + The Prologue is all that precedes the Parode of the chorus; an Episode all + that comes in between two whole choral songs; the Exode all that follows + after the last choral song. In the choral portion the Parode is the whole + first statement of the chorus; a Stasimon, a song of the chorus without + anapaests or trochees; a Commas, a lamentation sung by chorus and actor in + concert. The parts of Tragedy to be used as formative elements in the + whole we have already mentioned; the above are its parts from the point of + view of its quantity, or the separate sections into which it is divided. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 13 + </h2> + <p> + The next points after what we have said above will be these: (1) What is + the poet to aim at, and what is he to avoid, in constructing his Plots? + and (2) What are the conditions on which the tragic effect depends? + </p> + <p> + We assume that, for the finest form of Tragedy, the Plot must be not + simple but complex; and further, that it must imitate actions arousing + pity and fear, since that is the distinctive function of this kind of + imitation. It follows, therefore, that there are three forms of Plot to be + avoided. (1) A good man must not be seen passing from happiness to misery, + or (2) a bad man from misery to happiness. + </p> + <p> + The first situation is not fear-inspiring or piteous, but simply odious to + us. The second is the most untragic that can be; it has no one of the + requisites of Tragedy; it does not appeal either to the human feeling in + us, or to our pity, or to our fears. Nor, on the other hand, should (3) an + extremely bad man be seen falling from happiness into misery. Such a story + may arouse the human feeling in us, but it will not move us to either pity + or fear; pity is occasioned by undeserved misfortune, and fear by that of + one like ourselves; so that there will be nothing either piteous or + fear-inspiring in the situation. There remains, then, the intermediate + kind of personage, a man not pre-eminently virtuous and just, whose + misfortune, however, is brought upon him not by vice and depravity but by + some error of judgement, of the number of those in the enjoyment of great + reputation and prosperity; e.g. Oedipus, Thyestes, and the men of note of + similar families. The perfect Plot, accordingly, must have a single, and + not (as some tell us) a double issue; the change in the hero's fortunes + must be not from misery to happiness, but on the contrary from happiness + to misery; and the cause of it must lie not in any depravity, but in some + great error on his part; the man himself being either such as we have + described, or better, not worse, than that. Fact also confirms our theory. + Though the poets began by accepting any tragic story that came to hand, in + these days the finest tragedies are always on the story of some few + houses, on that of Alemeon, Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, + Telephus, or any others that may have been involved, as either agents or + sufferers, in some deed of horror. The theoretically best tragedy, then, + has a Plot of this description. The critics, therefore, are wrong who + blame Euripides for taking this line in his tragedies, and giving many of + them an unhappy ending. It is, as we have said, the right line to take. + The best proof is this: on the stage, and in the public performances, such + plays, properly worked out, are seen to be the most truly tragic; and + Euripides, even if his elecution be faulty in every other point, is seen + to be nevertheless the most tragic certainly of the dramatists. After this + comes the construction of Plot which some rank first, one with a double + story (like the <i>Odyssey</i>) and an opposite issue for the good and the + bad personages. It is ranked as first only through the weakness of the + audiences; the poets merely follow their public, writing as its wishes + dictate. But the pleasure here is not that of Tragedy. It belongs rather + to Comedy, where the bitterest enemies in the piece (e.g. Orestes and + Aegisthus) walk off good friends at the end, with no slaying of any one by + any one. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 14 + </h2> + <p> + The tragic fear and pity may be aroused by the Spectacle; but they may + also be aroused by the very structure and incidents of the play—which + is the better way and shows the better poet. The Plot in fact should be so + framed that, even without seeing the things take place, he who simply + hears the account of them shall be filled with horror and pity at the + incidents; which is just the effect that the mere recital of the story in + <i>Oedipus</i> would have on one. To produce this same effect by means of + the Spectacle is less artistic, and requires extraneous aid. Those, + however, who make use of the Spectacle to put before us that which is + merely monstrous and not productive of fear, are wholly out of touch with + Tragedy; not every kind of pleasure should be required of a tragedy, but + only its own proper pleasure. + </p> + <p> + The tragic pleasure is that of pity and fear, and the poet has to produce + it by a work of imitation; it is clear, therefore, that the causes should + be included in the incidents of his story. Let us see, then, what kinds of + incident strike one as horrible, or rather as piteous. In a deed of this + description the parties must necessarily be either friends, or enemies, or + indifferent to one another. Now when enemy does it on enemy, there is + nothing to move us to pity either in his doing or in his meditating the + deed, except so far as the actual pain of the sufferer is concerned; and + the same is true when the parties are indifferent to one another. Whenever + the tragic deed, however, is done within the family—when murder or + the like is done or meditated by brother on brother, by son on father, by + mother on son, or son on mother—these are the situations the poet + should seek after. The traditional stories, accordingly, must be kept as + they are, e.g. the murder of Clytaemnestra by Orestes and of Eriphyle by + Alcmeon. At the same time even with these there is something left to the + poet himself; it is for him to devise the right way of treating them. Let + us explain more clearly what we mean by 'the right way'. The deed of + horror may be done by the doer knowingly and consciously, as in the old + poets, and in Medea's murder of her children in Euripides. Or he may do + it, but in ignorance of his relationship, and discover that afterwards, as + does the <i>Oedipus</i> in Sophocles. Here the deed is outside the play; + but it may be within it, like the act of the Alcmeon in Astydamas, or that + of the Telegonus in <i>Ulysses Wounded</i>. A third possibility is for one + meditating some deadly injury to another, in ignorance of his + relationship, to make the discovery in time to draw back. These exhaust + the possibilities, since the deed must necessarily be either done or not + done, and either knowingly or unknowingly. + </p> + <p> + The worst situation is when the personage is with full knowledge on the + point of doing the deed, and leaves it undone. It is odious and also + (through the absence of suffering) untragic; hence it is that no one is + made to act thus except in some few instances, e.g. Haemon and Creon in <i>Antigone</i>. + Next after this comes the actual perpetration of the deed meditated. A + better situation than that, however, is for the deed to be done in + ignorance, and the relationship discovered afterwards, since there is + nothing odious in it, and the Discovery will serve to astound us. But the + best of all is the last; what we have in <i>Cresphontes</i>, for example, + where Merope, on the point of slaying her son, recognizes him in time; in + <i>Iphigenia</i>, where sister and brother are in a like position; and in + <i>Helle</i>, where the son recognizes his mother, when on the point of + giving her up to her enemy. + </p> + <p> + This will explain why our tragedies are restricted (as we said just now) + to such a small number of families. It was accident rather than art that + led the poets in quest of subjects to embody this kind of incident in + their Plots. They are still obliged, accordingly, to have recourse to the + families in which such horrors have occurred. + </p> + <p> + On the construction of the Plot, and the kind of Plot required for + Tragedy, enough has now been said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 15 + </h2> + <p> + In the Characters there are four points to aim at. First and foremost, + that they shall be good. There will be an element of character in the + play, if (as has been observed) what a personage says or does reveals a + certain moral purpose; and a good element of character, if the purpose so + revealed is good. Such goodness is possible in every type of personage, + even in a woman or a slave, though the one is perhaps an inferior, and the + other a wholly worthless being. The second point is to make them + appropriate. The Character before us may be, say, manly; but it is not + appropriate in a female Character to be manly, or clever. The third is to + make them like the reality, which is not the same as their being good and + appropriate, in our sense of the term. The fourth is to make them + consistent and the same throughout; even if inconsistency be part of the + man before one for imitation as presenting that form of character, he + should still be consistently inconsistent. We have an instance of baseness + of character, not required for the story, in the Menelaus in <i>Orestes</i>; + of the incongruous and unbefitting in the lamentation of Ulysses in <i>Scylla</i>, + and in the (clever) speech of Melanippe; and of inconsistency in <i>Iphigenia + at Aulis</i>, where Iphigenia the suppliant is utterly unlike the later + Iphigenia. The right thing, however, is in the Characters just as in the + incidents of the play to endeavour always after the necessary or the + probable; so that whenever such-and-such a personage says or does + such-and-such a thing, it shall be the probable or necessary outcome of + his character; and whenever this incident follows on that, it shall be + either the necessary or the probable consequence of it. From this one sees + (to digress for a moment) that the Denouement also should arise out of the + plot itself, arid not depend on a stage-artifice, as in <i>Medea</i>, or + in the story of the (arrested) departure of the Greeks in the <i>Iliad</i>. + The artifice must be reserved for matters outside the play—for past + events beyond human knowledge, or events yet to come, which require to be + foretold or announced; since it is the privilege of the Gods to know + everything. There should be nothing improbable among the actual incidents. + If it be unavoidable, however, it should be outside the tragedy, like the + improbability in the <i>Oedipus</i> of Sophocles. But to return to the + Characters. As Tragedy is an imitation of personages better than the + ordinary man, we in our way should follow the example of good + portrait-painters, who reproduce the distinctive features of a man, and at + the same time, without losing the likeness, make him handsomer than he is. + The poet in like manner, in portraying men quick or slow to anger, or with + similar infirmities of character, must know how to represent them as such, + and at the same time as good men, as Agathon and Homer have represented + Achilles. + </p> + <p> + All these rules one must keep in mind throughout, and further, those also + for such points of stage-effect as directly depend on the art of the poet, + since in these too one may often make mistakes. Enough, however, has been + said on the subject in one of our published writings. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 16 + </h2> + <p> + Discovery in general has been explained already. As for the species of + Discovery, the first to be noted is (1) the least artistic form of it, of + which the poets make most use through mere lack of invention, Discovery by + signs or marks. Of these signs some are congenital, like the 'lance-head + which the Earth-born have on them', or 'stars', such as Carcinus brings in + in his <i>Thyestes</i>; others acquired after birth—these latter + being either marks on the body, e.g. scars, or external tokens, like + necklaces, or to take another sort of instance, the ark in the Discovery + in <i>Tyro</i>. Even these, however, admit of two uses, a better and a + worse; the scar of Ulysses is an instance; the Discovery of him through it + is made in one way by the nurse and in another by the swineherds. A + Discovery using signs as a means of assurance is less artistic, as indeed + are all such as imply reflection; whereas one bringing them in all of a + sudden, as in the <i>Bath-story</i>, is of a better order. Next after + these are (2) Discoveries made directly by the poet; which are inartistic + for that very reason; e.g. Orestes' Discovery of himself in <i>Iphigenia</i>: + whereas his sister reveals who she is by the letter, Orestes is made to + say himself what the poet rather than the story demands. This, therefore, + is not far removed from the first-mentioned fault, since he might have + presented certain tokens as well. Another instance is the 'shuttle's + voice' in the <i>Tereus</i> of Sophocles. (3) A third species is Discovery + through memory, from a man's consciousness being awakened by something + seen or heard. Thus in <i>The Cyprioe</i> of Dicaeogenes, the sight of the + picture makes the man burst into tears; and in the <i>Tale of Alcinous</i>, + hearing the harper Ulysses is reminded of the past and weeps; the + Discovery of them being the result. (4) A fourth kind is Discovery through + reasoning; e.g. in <i>The Choephoroe</i>: 'One like me is here; there is + no one like me but Orestes; he, therefore, must be here.' Or that which + Polyidus the Sophist suggested for <i>Iphigenia</i>; since it was natural + for Orestes to reflect: 'My sister was sacrificed, and I am to be + sacrificed like her.' Or that in the <i>Tydeus</i> of Theodectes: 'I came + to find a son, and am to die myself.' Or that in <i>The Phinidae</i>: on + seeing the place the women inferred their fate, that they were to die + there, since they had also been exposed there. (5) There is, too, a + composite Discovery arising from bad reasoning on the side of the other + party. An instance of it is in <i>Ulysses the False Messenger</i>: he said + he should know the bow—which he had not seen; but to suppose from + that that he would know it again (as though he had once seen it) was bad + reasoning. (6) The best of all Discoveries, however, is that arising from + the incidents themselves, when the great surprise comes about through a + probable incident, like that in the <i>Oedipus</i> of Sophocles; and also + in <i>Iphigenia</i>; for it was not improbable that she should wish to + have a letter taken home. These last are the only Discoveries independent + of the artifice of signs and necklaces. Next after them come Discoveries + through reasoning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 17 + </h2> + <p> + At the time when he is constructing his Plots, and engaged on the Diction + in which they are worked out, the poet should remember (1) to put the + actual scenes as far as possible before his eyes. In this way, seeing + everything with the vividness of an eye-witness as it were, he will devise + what is appropriate, and be least likely to overlook incongruities. This + is shown by what was censured in Carcinus, the return of Amphiaraus from + the sanctuary; it would have passed unnoticed, if it had not been actually + seen by the audience; but on the stage his play failed, the incongruity of + the incident offending the spectators. (2) As far as may be, too, the poet + should even act his story with the very gestures of his personages. Given + the same natural qualifications, he who feels the emotions to be described + will be the most convincing; distress and anger, for instance, are + portrayed most truthfully by one who is feeling them at the moment. Hence + it is that poetry demands a man with special gift for it, or else one with + a touch of madness in him; the former can easily assume the required mood, + and the latter may be actually beside himself with emotion. (3) His story, + again, whether already made or of his own making, he should first simplify + and reduce to a universal form, before proceeding to lengthen it out by + the insertion of episodes. The following will show how the universal + element in <i>Iphigenia</i>, for instance, may be viewed: A certain maiden + having been offered in sacrifice, and spirited away from her sacrificers + into another land, where the custom was to sacrifice all strangers to the + Goddess, she was made there the priestess of this rite. Long after that + the brother of the priestess happened to come; the fact, however, of the + oracle having for a certain reason bidden him go thither, and his object + in going, are outside the Plot of the play. On his coming he was arrested, + and about to be sacrificed, when he revealed who he was—either as + Euripides puts it, or (as suggested by Polyidus) by the not improbable + exclamation, 'So I too am doomed to be sacrificed, as my sister was'; and + the disclosure led to his salvation. This done, the next thing, after the + proper names have been fixed as a basis for the story, is to work in + episodes or accessory incidents. One must mind, however, that the episodes + are appropriate, like the fit of madness in Orestes, which led to his + arrest, and the purifying, which brought about his salvation. In plays, + then, the episodes are short; in epic poetry they serve to lengthen out + the poem. The argument of the <i>Odyssey</i> is not a long one. + </p> + <p> + A certain man has been abroad many years; Poseidon is ever on the watch + for him, and he is all alone. Matters at home too have come to this, that + his substance is being wasted and his son's death plotted by suitors to + his wife. Then he arrives there himself after his grievous sufferings; + reveals himself, and falls on his enemies; and the end is his salvation + and their death. This being all that is proper to the <i>Odyssey</i>, + everything else in it is episode. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 18 + </h2> + <p> + (4) There is a further point to be borne in mind. Every tragedy is in part + Complication and in part Denouement; the incidents before the opening + scene, and often certain also of those within the play, forming the + Complication; and the rest the Denouement. By Complication I mean all from + the beginning of the story to the point just before the change in the + hero's fortunes; by Denouement, all from the beginning of the change to + the end. In the <i>Lynceus</i> of Theodectes, for instance, the + Complication includes, together with the presupposed incidents, the + seizure of the child and that in turn of the parents; and the Denouement + all from the indictment for the murder to the end. Now it is right, when + one speaks of a tragedy as the same or not the same as another, to do so + on the ground before all else of their Plot, i.e. as having the same or + not the same Complication and Denouement. Yet there are many dramatists + who, after a good Complication, fail in the Denouement. But it is + necessary for both points of construction to be always duly mastered. (5) + There are four distinct species of Tragedy—that being the number of + the constituents also that have been mentioned: first, the complex + Tragedy, which is all Peripety and Discovery; second, the Tragedy of + suffering, e.g. the <i>Ajaxes</i> and <i>Ixions</i>; third, the Tragedy of + character, e.g. <i>The Phthiotides</i> and <i>Peleus</i>. The fourth + constituent is that of 'Spectacle', exemplified in <i>The Phorcides</i>, + in <i>Prometheus</i>, and in all plays with the scene laid in the nether + world. The poet's aim, then, should be to combine every element of + interest, if possible, or else the more important and the major part of + them. This is now especially necessary owing to the unfair criticism to + which the poet is subjected in these days. Just because there have been + poets before him strong in the several species of tragedy, the critics now + expect the one man to surpass that which was the strong point of each one + of his predecessors. (6) One should also remember what has been said more + than once, and not write a tragedy on an epic body of incident (i.e. one + with a plurality of stories in it), by attempting to dramatize, for + instance, the entire story of the <i>Iliad</i>. In the epic owing to its + scale every part is treated at proper length; with a drama, however, on + the same story the result is very disappointing. This is shown by the fact + that all who have dramatized the fall of Ilium in its entirety, and not + part by part, like Euripides, or the whole of the Niobe story, instead of + a portion, like Aeschylus, either fail utterly or have but ill success on + the stage; for that and that alone was enough to ruin a play by Agathon. + Yet in their Peripeties, as also in their simple plots, the poets I mean + show wonderful skill in aiming at the kind of effect they desire—a + tragic situation that arouses the human feeling in one, like the clever + villain (e.g. Sisyphus) deceived, or the brave wrongdoer worsted. This is + probable, however, only in Agathon's sense, when he speaks of the + probability of even improbabilities coming to pass. (7) The Chorus too + should be regarded as one of the actors; it should be an integral part of + the whole, and take a share in the action—that which it has in + Sophocles rather than in Euripides. With the later poets, however, the + songs in a play of theirs have no more to do with the Plot of that than of + any other tragedy. Hence it is that they are now singing intercalary + pieces, a practice first introduced by Agathon. And yet what real + difference is there between singing such intercalary pieces, and + attempting to fit in a speech, or even a whole act, from one play into + another? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 19 + </h2> + <p> + The Plot and Characters having been discussed, it remains to consider the + Diction and Thought. As for the Thought, we may assume what is said of it + in our Art of Rhetoric, as it belongs more properly to that department of + inquiry. The Thought of the personages is shown in everything to be + effected by their language—in every effort to prove or disprove, to + arouse emotion (pity, fear, anger, and the like), or to maximize or + minimize things. It is clear, also, that their mental procedure must be on + the same lines in their actions likewise, whenever they wish them to + arouse pity or horror, or have a look of importance or probability. The + only difference is that with the act the impression has to be made without + explanation; whereas with the spoken word it has to be produced by the + speaker, and result from his language. What, indeed, would be the good of + the speaker, if things appeared in the required light even apart from + anything he says? + </p> + <p> + As regards the Diction, one subject for inquiry under this head is the + turns given to the language when spoken; e.g. the difference between + command and prayer, simple statement and threat, question and answer, and + so forth. The theory of such matters, however, belongs to Elocution and + the professors of that art. Whether the poet knows these things or not, + his art as a poet is never seriously criticized on that account. What + fault can one see in Homer's 'Sing of the wrath, Goddess'?—which + Protagoras has criticized as being a command where a prayer was meant, + since to bid one do or not do, he tells us, is a command. Let us pass over + this, then, as appertaining to another art, and not to that of poetry. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 20 + </h2> + <p> + The Diction viewed as a whole is made up of the following parts: the + Letter (or ultimate element), the Syllable, the Conjunction, the Article, + the Noun, the Verb, the Case, and the Speech. (1) The Letter is an + indivisible sound of a particular kind, one that may become a factor in an + intelligible sound. Indivisible sounds are uttered by the brutes also, but + no one of these is a Letter in our sense of the term. These elementary + sounds are either vowels, semivowels, or mutes. A vowel is a Letter having + an audible sound without the addition of another Letter. A semivowel, one + having an audible sound by the addition of another Letter; e.g. S and R. A + mute, one having no sound at all by itself, but becoming audible by an + addition, that of one of the Letters which have a sound of some sort of + their own; e.g. D and G. The Letters differ in various ways: as produced + by different conformations or in different regions of the mouth; as + aspirated, not aspirated, or sometimes one and sometimes the other; as + long, short, or of variable quantity; and further as having an acute + grave, or intermediate accent. + </p> + <p> + The details of these matters we must leave to the metricians. (2) A + Syllable is a nonsignificant composite sound, made up of a mute and a + Letter having a sound (a vowel or semivowel); for GR, without an A, is + just as much a Syllable as GRA, with an A. The various forms of the + Syllable also belong to the theory of metre. (3) A Conjunction is (a) a + non-significant sound which, when one significant sound is formable out of + several, neither hinders nor aids the union, and which, if the Speech thus + formed stands by itself (apart from other Speeches) must not be inserted + at the beginning of it; e.g. <i>men</i>, <i>de</i>, <i>toi</i>, <i>de</i>. + Or (b) a non-significant sound capable of combining two or more + significant sounds into one; e.g. <i>amphi</i>, <i>peri</i>, etc. (4) An + Article is a non-significant sound marking the beginning, end, or + dividing-point of a Speech, its natural place being either at the + extremities or in the middle. (5) A Noun or name is a composite + significant sound not involving the idea of time, with parts which have no + significance by themselves in it. It is to be remembered that in a + compound we do not think of the parts as having a significance also by + themselves; in the name 'Theodorus', for instance, the <i>doron</i> means + nothing to us. + </p> + <p> + (6) A Verb is a composite significant sound involving the idea of time, + with parts which (just as in the Noun) have no significance by themselves + in it. Whereas the word 'man' or 'white' does not imply <i>when</i>, + 'walks' and 'has walked' involve in addition to the idea of walking that + of time present or time past. + </p> + <p> + (7) A Case of a Noun or Verb is when the word means 'of or 'to' a thing, + and so forth, or for one or many (e.g. 'man' and 'men'); or it may consist + merely in the mode of utterance, e.g. in question, command, etc. 'Walked?' + and 'Walk!' are Cases of the verb 'to walk' of this last kind. (8) A + Speech is a composite significant sound, some of the parts of which have a + certain significance by themselves. It may be observed that a Speech is + not always made up of Noun and Verb; it may be without a Verb, like the + definition of man; but it will always have some part with a certain + significance by itself. In the Speech 'Cleon walks', 'Cleon' is an + instance of such a part. A Speech is said to be one in two ways, either as + signifying one thing, or as a union of several Speeches made into one by + conjunction. Thus the <i>Iliad</i> is one Speech by conjunction of + several; and the definition of man is one through its signifying one + thing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 21 + </h2> + <p> + Nouns are of two kinds, either (1) simple, i.e. made up of non-significant + parts, like the word ge, or (2) double; in the latter case the word may be + made up either of a significant and a non-significant part (a distinction + which disappears in the compound), or of two significant parts. It is + possible also to have triple, quadruple or higher compounds, like most of + our amplified names; e.g.' Hermocaicoxanthus' and the like. + </p> + <p> + Whatever its structure, a Noun must always be either (1) the ordinary word + for the thing, or (2) a strange word, or (3) a metaphor, or (4) an + ornamental word, or (5) a coined word, or (6) a word lengthened out, or + (7) curtailed, or (8) altered in form. By the ordinary word I mean that in + general use in a country; and by a strange word, one in use elsewhere. So + that the same word may obviously be at once strange and ordinary, though + not in reference to the same people; <i>sigunos</i>, for instance, is an + ordinary word in Cyprus, and a strange word with us. Metaphor consists in + giving the thing a name that belongs to something else; the transference + being either from genus to species, or from species to genus, or from + species to species, or on grounds of analogy. That from genus to species + is eXemplified in 'Here stands my ship'; for lying at anchor is the + 'standing' of a particular kind of thing. That from species to genus in + 'Truly ten thousand good deeds has Ulysses wrought', where 'ten thousand', + which is a particular large number, is put in place of the generic 'a + large number'. That from species to species in 'Drawing the life with the + bronze', and in 'Severing with the enduring bronze'; where the poet uses + 'draw' in the sense of 'sever' and 'sever' in that of 'draw', both words + meaning to 'take away' something. That from analogy is possible whenever + there are four terms so related that the second (B) is to the first (A), + as the fourth (D) to the third (C); for one may then metaphorically put B + in lieu of D, and D in lieu of B. Now and then, too, they qualify the + metaphor by adding on to it that to which the word it supplants is + relative. Thus a cup (B) is in relation to Dionysus (A) what a shield (D) + is to Ares (C). The cup accordingly will be metaphorically described as + the 'shield <i>of Dionysus</i>' (D + A), and the shield as the 'cup <i>of + Ares</i>' (B + C). Or to take another instance: As old age (D) is to life + (C), so is evening (B) to day (A). One will accordingly describe evening + (B) as the 'old age <i>of the day</i>' (D + A)—or by the Empedoclean + equivalent; and old age (D) as the 'evening' or 'sunset of life'' (B + C). + It may be that some of the terms thus related have no special name of + their own, but for all that they will be metaphorically described in just + the same way. Thus to cast forth seed-corn is called 'sowing'; but to cast + forth its flame, as said of the sun, has no special name. This nameless + act (B), however, stands in just the same relation to its object, sunlight + (A), as sowing (D) to the seed-corn (C). Hence the expression in the poet, + 'sowing around a god-created <i>flame</i>' (D + A). There is also another + form of qualified metaphor. Having given the thing the alien name, one may + by a negative addition deny of it one of the attributes naturally + associated with its new name. An instance of this would be to call the + shield not the 'cup <i>of Ares</i>,' as in the former case, but a 'cup <i>that + holds no wine</i>'. * * * A coined word is a name which, being quite + unknown among a people, is given by the poet himself; e.g. (for there are + some words that seem to be of this origin) <i>hernyges</i> for horns, and + <i>areter</i> for priest. A word is said to be lengthened out, when it has + a short vowel made long, or an extra syllable inserted; e. g. <i>polleos</i> + for <i>poleos</i>, <i>Peleiadeo</i> for <i>Peleidon</i>. It is said to be + curtailed, when it has lost a part; e.g. <i>kri</i>, <i>do</i>, and <i>ops</i> + in <i>mia ginetai amphoteron ops</i>. It is an altered word, when part is + left as it was and part is of the poet's making; e.g. <i>dexiteron</i> for + <i>dexion</i>, in <i>dexiteron kata maxon</i>. + </p> + <p> + The Nouns themselves (to whatever class they may belong) are either + masculines, feminines, or intermediates (neuter). All ending in N, P, S, + or in the two compounds of this last, PS and X, are masculines. All ending + in the invariably long vowels, H and O, and in A among the vowels that may + be long, are feminines. So that there is an equal number of masculine and + feminine terminations, as PS and X are the same as S, and need not be + counted. There is no Noun, however, ending in a mute or in either of the + two short vowels, E and O. Only three (<i>meli, kommi, peperi</i>) end in + I, and five in T. The intermediates, or neuters, end in the variable + vowels or in N, P, X. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 22 + </h2> + <p> + The perfection of Diction is for it to be at once clear and not mean. The + clearest indeed is that made up of the ordinary words for things, but it + is mean, as is shown by the poetry of Cleophon and Sthenelus. On the other + hand the Diction becomes distinguished and non-prosaic by the use of + unfamiliar terms, i.e. strange words, metaphors, lengthened forms, and + everything that deviates from the ordinary modes of speech.—But a + whole statement in such terms will be either a riddle or a barbarism, a + riddle, if made up of metaphors, a barbarism, if made up of strange words. + The very nature indeed of a riddle is this, to describe a fact in an + impossible combination of words (which cannot be done with the real names + for things, but can be with their metaphorical substitutes); e.g. 'I saw a + man glue brass on another with fire', and the like. The corresponding use + of strange words results in a barbarism.—A certain admixture, + accordingly, of unfamiliar terms is necessary. These, the strange word, + the metaphor, the ornamental equivalent, etc.. will save the language from + seeming mean and prosaic, while the ordinary words in it will secure the + requisite clearness. What helps most, however, to render the Diction at + once clear and non-prosaic is the use of the lengthened, curtailed, and + altered forms of words. Their deviation from the ordinary words will, by + making the language unlike that in general use give it a non-prosaic + appearance; and their having much in common with the words in general use + will give it the quality of clearness. It is not right, then, to condemn + these modes of speech, and ridicule the poet for using them, as some have + done; e.g. the elder Euclid, who said it was easy to make poetry if one + were to be allowed to lengthen the words in the statement itself as much + as one likes—a procedure he caricatured by reading '<i>Epixarhon + eidon Marathonade Badi—gonta</i>, and <i>ouk han g' eramenos ton + ekeinou helle boron</i> as verses. A too apparent use of these licences + has certainly a ludicrous effect, but they are not alone in that; the rule + of moderation applies to all the constituents of the poetic vocabulary; + even with metaphors, strange words, and the rest, the effect will be the + same, if one uses them improperly and with a view to provoking laughter. + The proper use of them is a very different thing. To realize the + difference one should take an epic verse and see how it reads when the + normal words are introduced. The same should be done too with the strange + word, the metaphor, and the rest; for one has only to put the ordinary + words in their place to see the truth of what we are saying. The same + iambic, for instance, is found in Aeschylus and Euripides, and as it + stands in the former it is a poor line; whereas Euripides, by the change + of a single word, the substitution of a strange for what is by usage the + ordinary word, has made it seem a fine one. Aeschylus having said in his + <i>Philoctetes</i>: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>phagedaina he mon sarkas hesthiei podos</i> +</pre> + <p> + Euripides has merely altered the hesthiei here into thoinatai. Or suppose + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>nun de m' heon holigos te kai outidanos kai haeikos</i> +</pre> + <p> + to be altered by the substitution of the ordinary words into + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>nun de m' heon mikros te kai hasthenikos kai haeidos</i> +</pre> + <p> + Or the line + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>diphron haeikelion katatheis olingen te trapexan</i> +</pre> + <p> + into + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>diphron moxtheron katatheis mikran te trapexan</i> +</pre> + <p> + Or heiones boosin into heiones kraxousin. Add to this that Ariphrades used + to ridicule the tragedians for introducing expressions unknown in the + language of common life, <i>doeaton hapo</i> (for <i>apo domaton</i>), <i>sethen</i>, + <i>hego de nin</i>, <i>Achilleos peri</i> (for <i>peri Achilleos</i>), and + the like. The mere fact of their not being in ordinary speech gives the + Diction a non-prosaic character; but Ariphrades was unaware of that. It is + a great thing, indeed, to make a proper use of these poetical forms, as + also of compounds and strange words. But the greatest thing by far is to + be a master of metaphor. It is the one thing that cannot be learnt from + others; and it is also a sign of genius, since a good metaphor implies an + intuitive perception of the similarity in dissimilars. + </p> + <p> + Of the kinds of words we have enumerated it may be observed that compounds + are most in place in the dithyramb, strange words in heroic, and metaphors + in iambic poetry. Heroic poetry, indeed, may avail itself of them all. But + in iambic verse, which models itself as far as possible on the spoken + language, only those kinds of words are in place which are allowable also + in an oration, i.e. the ordinary word, the metaphor, and the ornamental + equivalent. + </p> + <p> + Let this, then, suffice as an account of Tragedy, the art imitating by + means of action on the stage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 23 + </h2> + <p> + As for the poetry which merely narrates, or imitates by means of versified + language (without action), it is evident that it has several points in + common with Tragedy. + </p> + <p> + I. The construction of its stories should clearly be like that in a drama; + they should be based on a single action, one that is a complete whole in + itself, with a beginning, middle, and end, so as to enable the work to + produce its own proper pleasure with all the organic unity of a living + creature. Nor should one suppose that there is anything like them in our + usual histories. A history has to deal not with one action, but with one + period and all that happened in that to one or more persons, however + disconnected the several events may have been. Just as two events may take + place at the same time, e.g. the sea-fight off Salamis and the battle with + the Carthaginians in Sicily, without converging to the same end, so too of + two consecutive events one may sometimes come after the other with no one + end as their common issue. Nevertheless most of our epic poets, one may + say, ignore the distinction. + </p> + <p> + Herein, then, to repeat what we have said before, we have a further proof + of Homer's marvellous superiority to the rest. He did not attempt to deal + even with the Trojan war in its entirety, though it was a whole with a + definite beginning and end—through a feeling apparently that it was + too long a story to be taken in in one view, or if not that, too + complicated from the variety of incident in it. As it is, he has singled + out one section of the whole; many of the other incidents, however, he + brings in as episodes, using the Catalogue of the Ships, for instance, and + other episodes to relieve the uniformity of his narrative. As for the + other epic poets, they treat of one man, or one period; or else of an + action which, although one, has a multiplicity of parts in it. This last + is what the authors of the <i>Cypria</i> and <i>Little</i> <i>Iliad</i> + have done. And the result is that, whereas the <i>Iliad</i> or <i>Odyssey</i> + supplies materials for only one, or at most two tragedies, the <i>Cypria</i> + does that for several, and the <i>Little</i> <i>Iliad</i> for more than + eight: for an <i>Adjudgment of Arms</i>, a <i>Philoctetes</i>, a <i>Neoptolemus</i>, + a <i>Eurypylus</i>, a <i>Ulysses as Beggar</i>, a <i>Laconian Women</i>, a + <i>Fall of Ilium</i>, and a <i>Departure of the Fleet</i>; as also a <i>Sinon</i>, + and <i>Women of Troy</i>. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 24 + </h2> + <p> + II. Besides this, Epic poetry must divide into the same species as + Tragedy; it must be either simple or complex, a story of character or one + of suffering. Its parts, too, with the exception of Song and Spectacle, + must be the same, as it requires Peripeties, Discoveries, and scenes of + suffering just like Tragedy. Lastly, the Thought and Diction in it must be + good in their way. All these elements appear in Homer first; and he has + made due use of them. His two poems are each examples of construction, the + <i>Iliad</i> simple and a story of suffering, the <i>Odyssey</i> complex + (there is Discovery throughout it) and a story of character. And they are + more than this, since in Diction and Thought too they surpass all other + poems. + </p> + <p> + There is, however, a difference in the Epic as compared with Tragedy, (1) + in its length, and (2) in its metre. (1) As to its length, the limit + already suggested will suffice: it must be possible for the beginning and + end of the work to be taken in in one view—a condition which will be + fulfilled if the poem be shorter than the old epics, and about as long as + the series of tragedies offered for one hearing. For the extension of its + length epic poetry has a special advantage, of which it makes large use. + In a play one cannot represent an action with a number of parts going on + simultaneously; one is limited to the part on the stage and connected with + the actors. Whereas in epic poetry the narrative form makes it possible + for one to describe a number of simultaneous incidents; and these, if + germane to the subject, increase the body of the poem. This then is a gain + to the Epic, tending to give it grandeur, and also variety of interest and + room for episodes of diverse kinds. Uniformity of incident by the satiety + it soon creates is apt to ruin tragedies on the stage. (2) As for its + metre, the heroic has been assigned it from experience; were any one to + attempt a narrative poem in some one, or in several, of the other metres, + the incongruity of the thing would be apparent. The heroic; in fact is the + gravest and weightiest of metres—which is what makes it more + tolerant than the rest of strange words and metaphors, that also being a + point in which the narrative form of poetry goes beyond all others. The + iambic and trochaic, on the other hand, are metres of movement, the one + representing that of life and action, the other that of the dance. Still + more unnatural would it appear, it one were to write an epic in a medley + of metres, as Chaeremon did. Hence it is that no one has ever written a + long story in any but heroic verse; nature herself, as we have said, + teaches us to select the metre appropriate to such a story. + </p> + <p> + Homer, admirable as he is in every other respect, is especially so in + this, that he alone among epic poets is not unaware of the part to be + played by the poet himself in the poem. The poet should say very little in + propria persona, as he is no imitator when doing that. Whereas the other + poets are perpetually coming forward in person, and say but little, and + that only here and there, as imitators, Homer after a brief preface brings + in forthwith a man, a woman, or some other Character—no one of them + characterless, but each with distinctive characteristics. + </p> + <p> + The marvellous is certainly required in Tragedy. The Epic, however, + affords more opening for the improbable, the chief factor in the + marvellous, because in it the agents are not visibly before one. The scene + of the pursuit of Hector would be ridiculous on the stage—the Greeks + halting instead of pursuing him, and Achilles shaking his head to stop + them; but in the poem the absurdity is overlooked. The marvellous, + however, is a cause of pleasure, as is shown by the fact that we all tell + a story with additions, in the belief that we are doing our hearers a + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Homer more than any other has taught the rest of us the art of framing + lies in the right way. I mean the use of paralogism. Whenever, if A is or + happens, a consequent, B, is or happens, men's notion is that, if the B + is, the A also is—but that is a false conclusion. Accordingly, if A + is untrue, but there is something else, B, that on the assumption of its + truth follows as its consequent, the right thing then is to add on the B. + Just because we know the truth of the consequent, we are in our own minds + led on to the erroneous inference of the truth of the antecedent. Here is + an instance, from the Bath-story in the <i>Odyssey</i>. + </p> + <p> + A likely impossibility is always preferable to an unconvincing + possibility. The story should never be made up of improbable incidents; + there should be nothing of the sort in it. If, however, such incidents are + unavoidable, they should be outside the piece, like the hero's ignorance + in <i>Oedipus</i> of the circumstances of Lams' death; not within it, like + the report of the Pythian games in <i>Electra</i>, or the man's having + come to Mysia from Tegea without uttering a word on the way, in <i>The + Mysians</i>. So that it is ridiculous to say that one's Plot would have + been spoilt without them, since it is fundamentally wrong to make up such + Plots. If the poet has taken such a Plot, however, and one sees that he + might have put it in a more probable form, he is guilty of absurdity as + well as a fault of art. Even in the <i>Odyssey</i> the improbabilities in + the setting-ashore of Ulysses would be clearly intolerable in the hands of + an inferior poet. As it is, the poet conceals them, his other excellences + veiling their absurdity. Elaborate Diction, however, is required only in + places where there is no action, and no Character or Thought to be + revealed. Where there is Character or Thought, on the other hand, an + over-ornate Diction tends to obscure them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 25 + </h2> + <p> + As regards Problems and their Solutions, one may see the number and nature + of the assumptions on which they proceed by viewing the matter in the + following way. (1) The poet being an imitator just like the painter or + other maker of likenesses, he must necessarily in all instances represent + things in one or other of three aspects, either as they were or are, or as + they are said or thought to be or to have been, or as they ought to be. + (2) All this he does in language, with an admixture, it may be, of strange + words and metaphors, as also of the various modified forms of words, since + the use of these is conceded in poetry. (3) It is to be remembered, too, + that there is not the same kind of correctness in poetry as in politics, + or indeed any other art. There is, however, within the limits of poetry + itself a possibility of two kinds of error, the one directly, the other + only accidentally connected with the art. If the poet meant to describe + the thing correctly, and failed through lack of power of expression, his + art itself is at fault. But if it was through his having meant to describe + it in some incorrect way (e.g. to make the horse in movement have both + right legs thrown forward) that the technical error (one in a matter of, + say, medicine or some other special science), or impossibilities of + whatever kind they may be, have got into his description, his error in + that case is not in the essentials of the poetic art. These, therefore, + must be the premisses of the Solutions in answer to the criticisms + involved in the Problems. + </p> + <p> + I. As to the criticisms relating to the poet's art itself. Any + impossibilities there may be in his descriptions of things are faults. But + from another point of view they are justifiable, if they serve the end of + poetry itself—if (to assume what we have said of that end) they make + the effect of some portion of the work more astounding. The Pursuit of + Hector is an instance in point. If, however, the poetic end might have + been as well or better attained without sacrifice of technical correctness + in such matters, the impossibility is not to be justified, since the + description should be, if it can, entirely free from error. One may ask, + too, whether the error is in a matter directly or only accidentally + connected with the poetic art; since it is a lesser error in an artist not + to know, for instance, that the hind has no horns, than to produce an + unrecognizable picture of one. + </p> + <p> + II. If the poet's description be criticized as not true to fact, one may + urge perhaps that the object ought to be as described—an answer like + that of Sophocles, who said that he drew men as they ought to be, and + Euripides as they were. If the description, however, be neither true nor + of the thing as it ought to be, the answer must be then, that it is in + accordance with opinion. The tales about Gods, for instance, may be as + wrong as Xenophanes thinks, neither true nor the better thing to say; but + they are certainly in accordance with opinion. Of other statements in + poetry one may perhaps say, not that they are better than the truth, but + that the fact was so at the time; e.g. the description of the arms: 'their + spears stood upright, butt-end upon the ground'; for that was the usual + way of fixing them then, as it is still with the Illyrians. As for the + question whether something said or done in a poem is morally right or not, + in dealing with that one should consider not only the intrinsic quality of + the actual word or deed, but also the person who says or does it, the + person to whom he says or does it, the time, the means, and the motive of + the agent—whether he does it to attain a greater good, or to avoid a + greater evil. + </p> + <p> + III. Other criticisms one must meet by considering the language of the + poet: (1) by the assumption of a strange word in a passage like <i>oureas + men proton</i>, where by <i>oureas</i> Homer may perhaps mean not mules + but sentinels. And in saying of Dolon, <i>hos p e toi eidos men heen kakos</i>, + his meaning may perhaps be, not that Dolon's body was deformed, but that + his face was ugly, as <i>eneidos</i> is the Cretan word for + handsome-faced. So, too, <i>goroteron de keraie</i> may mean not 'mix the + wine stronger', as though for topers, but 'mix it quicker'. (2) Other + expressions in Homer may be explained as metaphorical; e.g. in <i>halloi + men ra theoi te kai aneres eudon (hapantes) pannux</i> as compared with + what he tells us at the same time, <i>e toi hot hes pedion to Troikon + hathreseien, aulon suriggon *te homadon*</i> the word <i>hapantes</i> + 'all', is metaphorically put for 'many', since 'all' is a species of 'many + '. So also his <i>oie d' ammoros</i> is metaphorical, the best known + standing 'alone'. (3) A change, as Hippias suggested, in the mode of + reading a word will solve the difficulty in <i>didomen de oi</i>, and <i>to + men ou kataputhetai hombro</i>. (4) Other difficulties may be solved by + another punctuation; e.g. in Empedocles, <i>aipsa de thnet ephyonto, ta + prin mathon athanata xora te prin kekreto</i>. Or (5) by the assumption of + an equivocal term, as in <i>parocheken de pleo nux</i>, where <i>pleo</i> + in equivocal. Or (6) by an appeal to the custom of language. + Wine-and-water we call 'wine'; and it is on the same principle that Homer + speaks of a <i>knemis neoteuktou kassiteroio</i>, a 'greave of new-wrought + tin.' A worker in iron we call a 'brazier'; and it is on the same + principle that Ganymede is described as the 'wine-server' of Zeus, though + the Gods do not drink wine. This latter, however, may be an instance of + metaphor. But whenever also a word seems to imply some contradiction, it + is necessary to reflect how many ways there may be of understanding it in + the passage in question; e.g. in Homer's <i>te r' hesxeto xalkeon hegxos</i> + one should consider the possible senses of 'was stopped there'—whether + by taking it in this sense or in that one will best avoid the fault of + which Glaucon speaks: 'They start with some improbable presumption; and + having so decreed it themselves, proceed to draw inferences, and censure + the poet as though he had actually said whatever they happen to believe, + if his statement conflicts with their own notion of things.' This is how + Homer's silence about Icarius has been treated. Starting with, the notion + of his having been a Lacedaemonian, the critics think it strange for + Telemachus not to have met him when he went to Lacedaemon. Whereas the + fact may have been as the Cephallenians say, that the wife of Ulysses was + of a Cephallenian family, and that her father's name was Icadius, not + Icarius. So that it is probably a mistake of the critics that has given + rise to the Problem. + </p> + <p> + Speaking generally, one has to justify (1) the Impossible by reference to + the requirements of poetry, or to the better, or to opinion. For the + purposes of poetry a convincing impossibility is preferable to an + unconvincing possibility; and if men such as Zeuxis depicted be + impossible, the answer is that it is better they should be like that, as + the artist ought to improve on his model. (2) The Improbable one has to + justify either by showing it to be in accordance with opinion, or by + urging that at times it is not improbable; for there is a probability of + things happening also against probability. (3) The contradictions found in + the poet's language one should first test as one does an opponent's + confutation in a dialectical argument, so as to see whether he means the + same thing, in the same relation, and in the same sense, before admitting + that he has contradicted either something he has said himself or what a + man of sound sense assumes as true. But there is no possible apology for + improbability of Plot or depravity of character, when they are not + necessary and no use is made of them, like the improbability in the + appearance of Aegeus in <i>Medea</i> and the baseness of Menelaus in <i>Orestes</i>. + </p> + <p> + The objections, then, of critics start with faults of five kinds: the + allegation is always that something in either (1) impossible, (2) + improbable, (3) corrupting, (4) contradictory, or (5) against technical + correctness. The answers to these objections must be sought under one or + other of the above-mentioned heads, which are twelve in number. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 26 + </h2> + <p> + The question may be raised whether the epic or the tragic is the higher + form of imitation. It may be argued that, if the less vulgar is the + higher, and the less vulgar is always that which addresses the better + public, an art addressing any and every one is of a very vulgar order. It + is a belief that their public cannot see the meaning, unless they add + something themselves, that causes the perpetual movements of the + performers—bad flute-players, for instance, rolling about, if + quoit-throwing is to be represented, and pulling at the conductor, if + Scylla is the subject of the piece. Tragedy, then, is said to be an art of + this order—to be in fact just what the later actors were in the eyes + of their predecessors; for Myrmiscus used to call Callippides 'the ape', + because he thought he so overacted his parts; and a similar view was taken + of Pindarus also. All Tragedy, however, is said to stand to the Epic as + the newer to the older school of actors. The one, accordingly, is said to + address a cultivated 'audience, which does not need the accompaniment of + gesture; the other, an uncultivated one. If, therefore, Tragedy is a + vulgar art, it must clearly be lower than the Epic. + </p> + <p> + The answer to this is twofold. In the first place, one may urge (1) that + the censure does not touch the art of the dramatic poet, but only that of + his interpreter; for it is quite possible to overdo the gesturing even in + an epic recital, as did Sosistratus, and in a singing contest, as did + Mnasitheus of Opus. (2) That one should not condemn all movement, unless + one means to condemn even the dance, but only that of ignoble people—which + is the point of the criticism passed on Callippides and in the present day + on others, that their women are not like gentlewomen. (3) That Tragedy may + produce its effect even without movement or action in just the same way as + Epic poetry; for from the mere reading of a play its quality may be seen. + So that, if it be superior in all other respects, this element of + inferiority is not a necessary part of it. + </p> + <p> + In the second place, one must remember (1) that Tragedy has everything + that the Epic has (even the epic metre being admissible), together with a + not inconsiderable addition in the shape of the Music (a very real factor + in the pleasure of the drama) and the Spectacle. (2) That its reality of + presentation is felt in the play as read, as well as in the play as acted. + (3) That the tragic imitation requires less space for the attainment of + its end; which is a great advantage, since the more concentrated effect is + more pleasurable than one with a large admixture of time to dilute it—consider + the <i>Oedipus</i> of Sophocles, for instance, and the effect of expanding + it into the number of lines of the <i>Iliad</i>. (4) That there is less + unity in the imitation of the epic poets, as is proved by the fact that + any one work of theirs supplies matter for several tragedies; the result + being that, if they take what is really a single story, it seems curt when + briefly told, and thin and waterish when on the scale of length usual with + their verse. In saying that there is less unity in an epic, I mean an epic + made up of a plurality of actions, in the same way as the <i>Iliad</i> and + <i>Odyssey</i> have many such parts, each one of them in itself of some + magnitude; yet the structure of the two Homeric poems is as perfect as can + be, and the action in them is as nearly as possible one action. If, then, + Tragedy is superior in these respects, and also besides these, in its + poetic effect (since the two forms of poetry should give us, not any or + every pleasure, but the very special kind we have mentioned), it is clear + that, as attaining the poetic effect better than the Epic, it will be the + higher form of art. + </p> + <p> + So much for Tragedy and Epic poetry—for these two arts in general + and their species; the number and nature of their constituent parts; the + causes of success and failure in them; the Objections of the critics, and + the Solutions in answer to them. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetics, by Aristotle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETICS *** + +***** This file should be named 6763-h.htm or 6763-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/7/6/6763/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Poetics + +Author: Aristotle + +Commentator: Gilbert Murray + +Translator: Ingram Bywater + +Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6763] +Posting Date: May 2, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETICS *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred + + + + + + + + +ON THE ART OF POETRY + + +By Aristotle + + +Translated By Ingram Bywater + + +With A Preface By Gilbert Murray + + + + Oxford At The Clarendon Press + First Published 1920 + Reprinted 1925, 1928, 1932, 1938, 1945, 1947 + 1951, 1954, 1959. 1962 Printed In Great Britain + + + + + +PREFACE + + +In the tenth book of the _Republic_, when Plato has completed his final +burning denunciation of Poetry, the false Siren, the imitator of things +which themselves are shadows, the ally of all that is low and weak in +the soul against that which is high and strong, who makes us feed the +things we ought to starve and serve the things we ought to rule, he +ends with a touch of compunction: 'We will give her champions, not poets +themselves but poet-lovers, an opportunity to make her defence in plain +prose and show that she is not only sweet--as we well know--but also +helpful to society and the life of man, and we will listen in a kindly +spirit. For we shall be gainers, I take it, if this can be proved.' +Aristotle certainly knew the passage, and it looks as if his treatise on +poetry was an answer to Plato's challenge. + +Few of the great works of ancient Greek literature are easy reading. +They nearly all need study and comment, and at times help from a good +teacher, before they yield up their secret. And the _Poetics_ cannot be +accounted an exception. For one thing the treatise is fragmentary. It +originally consisted of two books, one dealing with Tragedy and Epic, +the other with Comedy and other subjects. We possess only the first. For +another, even the book we have seems to be unrevised and unfinished. The +style, though luminous, vivid, and in its broader division systematic, +is not that of a book intended for publication. Like most of Aristotle's +extant writing, it suggests the MS. of an experienced lecturer, full of +jottings and adscripts, with occasional phrases written carefully +out, but never revised as a whole for the general reader. Even to +accomplished scholars the meaning is often obscure, as may be seen by a +comparison of the three editions recently published in England, all the +work of savants of the first eminence, (1) or, still more strikingly, by +a study of the long series of misunderstandings and overstatements +and corrections which form the history of the _Poetics_ since the +Renaissance. + +(1) Prof. Butcher, 1895 and 1898; Prof. Bywater, 1909; and Prof. +Margoliouth, 1911. + + +But it is of another cause of misunderstanding that I wish principally +to speak in this preface. The great edition from which the present +translation is taken was the fruit of prolonged study by one of the +greatest Aristotelians of the nineteenth century, and is itself a +classic among works of scholarship. In the hands of a student who knows +even a little Greek, the translation, backed by the commentary, may lead +deep into the mind of Aristotle. But when the translation is used, as it +doubtless will be, by readers who are quite without the clue provided +by a knowledge of the general habits of the Greek language, there must +arise a number of new difficulties or misconceptions. + +To understand a great foreign book by means of a translation is possible +enough where the two languages concerned operate with a common stock +of ideas, and belong to the same period of civilization. But between +ancient Greece and modern England there yawn immense gulfs of human +history; the establishment and the partial failure of a common European +religion, the barbarian invasions, the feudal system, the regrouping +of modern Europe, the age of mechanical invention, and the industrial +revolution. In an average page of French or German philosophy nearly all +the nouns can be translated directly into exact equivalents in English; +but in Greek that is not so. Scarcely one in ten of the nouns on the +first few pages of the _Poetics_ has an exact English equivalent. Every +proposition has to be reduced to its lowest terms of thought and then +re-built. This is a difficulty which no translation can quite deal with; +it must be left to a teacher who knows Greek. And there is a kindred +difficulty which flows from it. Where words can be translated into +equivalent words, the style of an original can be closely followed; +but no translation which aims at being written in normal English can +reproduce the style of Aristotle. I have sometimes played with the idea +that a ruthlessly literal translation, helped out by bold punctuation, +might be the best. For instance, premising that the words _poesis_, +_poetes_ mean originally 'making' and 'maker', one might translate the +first paragraph of the _Poetics_ thus:-- + +MAKING: kinds of making: function of each, and how the Myths ought to be +put together if the Making is to go right. + +Number of parts: nature of parts: rest of same inquiry. + +Begin in order of nature from first principles. + +Epos-making, tragedy-making (also comedy), dithyramb-making (and most +fluting and harping), taken as a whole, are really not Makings but +Imitations. They differ in three points; they imitate (a) different +objects, (b) by different means, (c) differently (i.e. different +manner). + +Some artists imitate (i.e. depict) by shapes and colours. (Obs. +sometimes by art, sometimes by habit.) Some by voice. Similarly the +above arts all imitate by rhythm, language, and tune, and these either +(1) separate or (2) mixed. + +Rhythm and tune alone, harping, fluting, and other arts with same +effect--e.g. panpipes. + +Rhythm without tune: dancing. (Dancers imitate characters, emotions, and +experiences by means of rhythms expressed in form.) + +Language alone (whether prose or verse, and one form of verse or many): +this art has no name up to the present (i.e. there is no name to cover +mimes and dialogues and any similar imitation made in iambics, +elegiacs, &c. Commonly people attach the 'making' to the metre and say +'elegiac-makers', 'hexameter-makers,' giving them a common class-name by +their metre, as if it was not their imitation that makes them 'makers'). + + +Such an experiment would doubtless be a little absurd, but it would give +an English reader some help in understanding both Aristotle's style and +his meaning. + +For example, their enlightenment in the literal phrase, 'how the +myths ought to be put together.' The higher Greek poetry did not make +up fictitious plots; its business was to express the heroic saga, the +myths. Again, the literal translation of _poetes_, poet, as 'maker', +helps to explain a term that otherwise seems a puzzle in the _Poetics_. +If we wonder why Aristotle, and Plato before him, should lay such stress +on the theory that art is imitation, it is a help to realize that common +language called it 'making', and it was clearly not 'making' in the +ordinary sense. The poet who was 'maker' of a Fall of Troy clearly did +not make the real Fall of Troy. He made an imitation Fall of Troy. An +artist who 'painted Pericles' really 'made an imitation Pericles by +means of shapes and colours'. Hence we get started upon a theory of art +which, whether finally satisfactory or not, is of immense importance, +and are saved from the error of complaining that Aristotle did not +understand the 'creative power' of art. + +As a rule, no doubt, the difficulty, even though merely verbal, lies +beyond the reach of so simple a tool as literal translation. To say that +tragedy 'imitates good men' while comedy 'imitates bad men' strikes a +modern reader as almost meaningless. The truth is that neither 'good' +nor 'bad' is an exact equivalent of the Greek. It would be nearer +perhaps to say that, relatively speaking, you look up to the characters +of tragedy, and down upon those of comedy. High or low, serious or +trivial, many other pairs of words would have to be called in, in order +to cover the wide range of the common Greek words. And the point is +important, because we have to consider whether in Chapter VI Aristotle +really lays it down that tragedy, so far from being the story +of un-happiness that we think it, is properly an imitation of +_eudaimonia_--a word often translated 'happiness', but meaning something +more like 'high life' or 'blessedness'. (1) + +(1) See Margoliouth, p. 121. By water, with most editors, emends the +text. + +Another difficult word which constantly recurs in the _Poetics_ is +_prattein_ or _praxis_, generally translated 'to act' or 'action'. But +_prattein_, like our 'do', also has an intransitive meaning 'to fare' +either well or ill; and Professor Margoliouth has pointed out that it +seems more true to say that tragedy shows how men 'fare' than how they +'act'. It shows their experiences or fortunes rather than merely their +deeds. But one must not draw the line too bluntly. I should doubt +whether a classical Greek writer was ordinarily conscious of the +distinction between the two meanings. Certainly it is easier to regard +happiness as a way of faring than as a form of action. Yet Aristotle can +use the passive of _prattein_ for things 'done' or 'gone through' (e.g. +52a, 22, 29: 55a, 25). + +The fact is that much misunderstanding is often caused by our modern +attempts to limit too strictly the meaning of a Greek word. Greek was +very much a live language, and a language still unconscious of grammar, +not, like ours, dominated by definitions and trained upon dictionaries. +An instance is provided by Aristotle's famous saying that the typical +tragic hero is one who falls from high state or fame, not through vice +or depravity, but by some great _hamartia_. _Hamartia_ means originally +a 'bad shot' or 'error', but is currently used for 'offence' or 'sin'. +Aristotle clearly means that the typical hero is a great man with +'something wrong' in his life or character; but I think it is a mistake +of method to argue whether he means 'an intellectual error' or 'a moral +flaw'. The word is not so precise. + +Similarly, when Aristotle says that a deed of strife or disaster is more +tragic when it occurs 'amid affections' or 'among people who love each +other', no doubt the phrase, as Aristotle's own examples show, would +primarily suggest to a Greek feuds between near relations. Yet some of +the meaning is lost if one translates simply 'within the family'. + +There is another series of obscurities or confusions in the _Poetics_ +which, unless I am mistaken, arises from the fact that Aristotle was +writing at a time when the great age of Greek tragedy was long past, and +was using language formed in previous generations. The words and phrases +remained in the tradition, but the forms of art and activity which they +denoted had sometimes changed in the interval. If we date the _Poetics_ +about the year 330 B.C., as seems probable, that is more than two +hundred years after the first tragedy of Thespis was produced in Athens, +and more than seventy after the death of the last great masters of +the tragic stage. When we remember that a training in music and poetry +formed a prominent part of the education of every wellborn Athenian, +we cannot be surprised at finding in Aristotle, and to a less extent in +Plato, considerable traces of a tradition of technical language and even +of aesthetic theory. + +It is doubtless one of Aristotle's great services that he conceived +so clearly the truth that literature is a thing that grows and has a +history. But no writer, certainly no ancient writer, is always vigilant. +Sometimes Aristotle analyses his terms, but very often he takes them for +granted; and in the latter case, I think, he is sometimes deceived by +them. Thus there seem to be cases where he has been affected in his +conceptions of fifth-century tragedy by the practice of his own day, +when the only living form of drama was the New Comedy. + +For example, as we have noticed above, true Tragedy had always taken its +material from the sacred myths, or heroic sagas, which to the classical +Greek constituted history. But the New Comedy was in the habit of +inventing its plots. Consequently Aristotle falls into using the word +_mythos_ practically in the sense of 'plot', and writing otherwise in a +way that is unsuited to the tragedy of the fifth century. He says that +tragedy adheres to 'the historical names' for an aesthetic reason, +because what has happened is obviously possible and therefore +convincing. The real reason was that the drama and the myth were simply +two different expressions of the same religious kernel (p. 44). Again, +he says of the Chorus (p. 65) that it should be an integral part of the +play, which is true; but he also says that it' should be regarded as one +of the actors', which shows to what an extent the Chorus in his day +was dead and its technique forgotten. He had lost the sense of what the +Chorus was in the hands of the great masters, say in the Bacchae or the +Eumenides. He mistakes, again, the use of that epiphany of a God which +is frequent at the end of the single plays of Euripides, and which seems +to have been equally so at the end of the trilogies of Aeschylus. Having +lost the living tradition, he sees neither the ritual origin nor the +dramatic value of these divine epiphanies. He thinks of the convenient +gods and abstractions who sometimes spoke the prologues of the New +Comedy, and imagines that the God appears in order to unravel the plot. +As a matter of fact, in one play which he often quotes, the _Iphigenia +Taurica_, the plot is actually distorted at the very end in order to +give an opportunity for the epiphany.(1) + +(1) See my _Euripides and his Age_, pp. 221-45. + +One can see the effect of the tradition also in his treatment of the +terms Anagnorisis and Peripeteia, which Professor Bywater translates +as 'Discovery and Peripety' and Professor Butcher as 'Recognition and +Reversal of Fortune'. Aristotle assumes that these two elements are +normally present in any tragedy, except those which he calls 'simple'; +we may say, roughly, in any tragedy that really has a plot. This strikes +a modern reader as a very arbitrary assumption. Reversals of Fortune +of some sort are perhaps usual in any varied plot, but surely not +Recognitions? The clue to the puzzle lies, it can scarcely be doubted, +in the historical origin of tragedy. Tragedy, according to Greek +tradition, is originally the ritual play of Dionysus, performed at his +festival, and representing, as Herodotus tells us, the 'sufferings' +or 'passion' of that God. We are never directly told what these +'sufferings' were which were so represented; but Herodotus remarks that +he found in Egypt a ritual that was 'in almost all points the same'. (1) +This was the well-known ritual of Osiris, in which the god was torn +in pieces, lamented, searched for, discovered or recognized, and the +mourning by a sudden Reversal turned into joy. In any tragedy which +still retained the stamp of its Dionysiac origin, this Discovery and +Peripety might normally be expected to occur, and to occur together. I +have tried to show elsewhere how many of our extant tragedies do, as a +matter of fact, show the marks of this ritual.(2) + +(1) Cf. Hdt. ii. 48; cf. 42,144. The name of Dionysus must not be openly +mentioned in connexion with mourning (ib. 61, 132, 86). This may help to +explain the transference of the tragic shows to other heroes. + +(2) In Miss Harrison's _Themis_, pp. 341-63. + +I hope it is not rash to surmise that the much-debated word +__katharsis__, 'purification' or 'purgation', may have come into +Aristotle's mouth from the same source. It has all the appearance of +being an old word which is accepted and re-interpreted by Aristotle +rather than a word freely chosen by him to denote the exact phenomenon +he wishes to describe. At any rate the Dionysus ritual itself was a +_katharmos_ or _katharsis_--a purification of the community from the +taints and poisons of the past year, the old contagion of sin and death. +And the words of Aristotle's definition of tragedy in Chapter VI +might have been used in the days of Thespis in a much cruder and +less metaphorical sense. According to primitive ideas, the mimic +representation on the stage of 'incidents arousing pity and fear' did +act as a _katharsis_ of such 'passions' or 'sufferings' in real life. +(For the word _pathemata_ means 'sufferings' as well as 'passions'.) +It is worth remembering that in the year 361 B.C., during Aristotle's +lifetime, Greek tragedies were introduced into Rome, not on artistic but +on superstitious grounds, as a _katharmos_ against a pestilence (Livy +vii. 2). One cannot but suspect that in his account of the purpose +of tragedy Aristotle may be using an old traditional formula, and +consciously or unconsciously investing it with a new meaning, much as he +has done with the word _mythos_. + +Apart from these historical causes of misunderstanding, a good teacher +who uses this book with a class will hardly fail to point out numerous +points on which two equally good Greek scholars may well differ in +the mere interpretation of the words. What, for instance, are the 'two +natural causes' in Chapter IV which have given birth to Poetry? Are +they, as our translator takes them, (1) that man is imitative, and (2) +that people delight in imitations? Or are they (1) that man is imitative +and people delight in imitations, and (2) the instinct for rhythm, as +Professor Butcher prefers? Is it a 'creature' a thousand miles long, or +a 'picture' a thousand miles long which raises some trouble in Chapter +VII? The word _zoon_ means equally 'picture' and 'animal'. Did the older +poets make their characters speak like 'statesmen', _politikoi_, or +merely like ordinary citizens, _politai_, while the moderns made theirs +like 'professors of rhetoric'? (Chapter VI, p. 38; cf. Margoliouth's +note and glossary). + +It may seem as if the large uncertainties which we have indicated +detract in a ruinous manner from the value of the _Poetics_ to us as +a work of criticism. Certainly if any young writer took this book as +a manual of rules by which to 'commence poet', he would find himself +embarrassed. But, if the book is properly read, not as a dogmatic +text-book but as a first attempt, made by a man of astounding genius, to +build up in the region of creative art a rational order like that +which he established in logic, rhetoric, ethics, politics, physics, +psychology, and almost every department of knowledge that existed in his +day, then the uncertainties become rather a help than a discouragement. +They give us occasion to think and use our imagination. They make us, to +the best of our powers, try really to follow and criticize closely the +bold gropings of an extraordinary thinker; and it is in this process, +and not in any mere collection of dogmatic results, that we shall find +the true value and beauty of the _Poetics_. + +The book is of permanent value as a mere intellectual achievement; as +a store of information about Greek literature; and as an original or +first-hand statement of what we may call the classical view of +artistic criticism. It does not regard poetry as a matter of unanalysed +inspiration; it makes no concession to personal whims or fashion or +_ennui_. It tries by rational methods to find out what is good in art +and what makes it good, accepting the belief that there is just as truly +a good way, and many bad ways, in poetry as in morals or in playing +billiards. This is no place to try to sum up its main conclusions. +But it is characteristic of the classical view that Aristotle lays his +greatest stress, first, on the need for Unity in the work of art, the +need that each part should subserve the whole, while irrelevancies, +however brilliant in themselves, should be cast away; and next, on the +demand that great art must have for its subject the great way of living. +These judgements have often been misunderstood, but the truth in them is +profound and goes near to the heart of things. + +Characteristic, too, is the observation that different kinds of art grow +and develop, but not indefinitely; they develop until they 'attain their +natural form'; also the rule that each form of art should produce 'not +every sort of pleasure but its proper pleasure'; and the sober language +in which Aristotle, instead of speaking about the sequence of events +in a tragedy being 'inevitable', as we bombastic moderns do, merely +recommends that they should be 'either necessary or probable' and +'appear to happen because of one another'. + +Conceptions and attitudes of mind such as these constitute what we may +call the classical faith in matters of art and poetry; a faith which is +never perhaps fully accepted in any age, yet, unlike others, is never +forgotten but lives by being constantly criticized, re-asserted, and +rebelled against. For the fashions of the ages vary in this direction +and that, but they vary for the most part from a central road which was +struck out by the imagination of Greece. + +G. M + + + + + +ARISTOTLE ON THE ART OF POETRY + + + + +1 + + +Our subject being Poetry, I propose to speak not only of the art in +general but also of its species and their respective capacities; of the +structure of plot required for a good poem; of the number and nature of +the constituent parts of a poem; and likewise of any other matters in +the same line of inquiry. Let us follow the natural order and begin with +the primary facts. + +Epic poetry and Tragedy, as also Comedy, Dithyrambic poetry, and most +flute-playing and lyre-playing, are all, viewed as a whole, modes of +imitation. But at the same time they differ from one another in three +ways, either by a difference of kind in their means, or by differences +in the objects, or in the manner of their imitations. + +I. Just as form and colour are used as means by some, who (whether by +art or constant practice) imitate and portray many things by their aid, +and the voice is used by others; so also in the above-mentioned group +of arts, the means with them as a whole are rhythm, language, and +harmony--used, however, either singly or in certain combinations. A +combination of rhythm and harmony alone is the means in flute-playing +and lyre-playing, and any other arts there may be of the same +description, e.g. imitative piping. Rhythm alone, without harmony, is +the means in the dancer's imitations; for even he, by the rhythms of his +attitudes, may represent men's characters, as well as what they do +and suffer. There is further an art which imitates by language alone, +without harmony, in prose or in verse, and if in verse, either in some +one or in a plurality of metres. This form of imitation is to this +day without a name. We have no common name for a mime of Sophron or +Xenarchus and a Socratic Conversation; and we should still be without +one even if the imitation in the two instances were in trimeters or +elegiacs or some other kind of verse--though it is the way with people +to tack on 'poet' to the name of a metre, and talk of elegiac-poets +and epic-poets, thinking that they call them poets not by reason of the +imitative nature of their work, but indiscriminately by reason of the +metre they write in. Even if a theory of medicine or physical philosophy +be put forth in a metrical form, it is usual to describe the writer in +this way; Homer and Empedocles, however, have really nothing in common +apart from their metre; so that, if the one is to be called a poet, the +other should be termed a physicist rather than a poet. We should be in +the same position also, if the imitation in these instances were in all +the metres, like the _Centaur_ (a rhapsody in a medley of all metres) of +Chaeremon; and Chaeremon one has to recognize as a poet. So much, then, +as to these arts. There are, lastly, certain other arts, which combine +all the means enumerated, rhythm, melody, and verse, e.g. Dithyrambic +and Nomic poetry, Tragedy and Comedy; with this difference, however, +that the three kinds of means are in some of them all employed together, +and in others brought in separately, one after the other. These elements +of difference in the above arts I term the means of their imitation. + + + + +2 + + +II. The objects the imitator represents are actions, with agents who are +necessarily either good men or bad--the diversities of human character +being nearly always derivative from this primary distinction, since the +line between virtue and vice is one dividing the whole of mankind. It +follows, therefore, that the agents represented must be either above our +own level of goodness, or beneath it, or just such as we are in the same +way as, with the painters, the personages of Polygnotus are better +than we are, those of Pauson worse, and those of Dionysius just like +ourselves. It is clear that each of the above-mentioned arts will +admit of these differences, and that it will become a separate art by +representing objects with this point of difference. Even in dancing, +flute-playing, and lyre-playing such diversities are possible; and they +are also possible in the nameless art that uses language, prose or verse +without harmony, as its means; Homer's personages, for instance, are +better than we are; Cleophon's are on our own level; and those of +Hegemon of Thasos, the first writer of parodies, and Nicochares, +the author of the _Diliad_, are beneath it. The same is true of the +Dithyramb and the Nome: the personages may be presented in them with the +difference exemplified in the... of... and Argas, and in the Cyclopses +of Timotheus and Philoxenus. This difference it is that distinguishes +Tragedy and Comedy also; the one would make its personages worse, and +the other better, than the men of the present day. + + + + +3 + + +III. A third difference in these arts is in the manner in which each +kind of object is represented. Given both the same means and the same +kind of object for imitation, one may either (1) speak at one moment in +narrative and at another in an assumed character, as Homer does; or (2) +one may remain the same throughout, without any such change; or (3) the +imitators may represent the whole story dramatically, as though they +were actually doing the things described. + +As we said at the beginning, therefore, the differences in the imitation +of these arts come under three heads, their means, their objects, and +their manner. + +So that as an imitator Sophocles will be on one side akin to Homer, both +portraying good men; and on another to Aristophanes, since both present +their personages as acting and doing. This in fact, according to some, +is the reason for plays being termed dramas, because in a play the +personages act the story. Hence too both Tragedy and Comedy are claimed +by the Dorians as their discoveries; Comedy by the Megarians--by those +in Greece as having arisen when Megara became a democracy, and by the +Sicilian Megarians on the ground that the poet Epicharmus was of their +country, and a good deal earlier than Chionides and Magnes; even Tragedy +also is claimed by certain of the Peloponnesian Dorians. In support of +this claim they point to the words 'comedy' and 'drama'. Their word for +the outlying hamlets, they say, is comae, whereas Athenians call them +demes--thus assuming that comedians got the name not from their _comoe_ +or revels, but from their strolling from hamlet to hamlet, lack of +appreciation keeping them out of the city. Their word also for 'to act', +they say, is _dran_, whereas Athenians use _prattein_. + +So much, then, as to the number and nature of the points of difference +in the imitation of these arts. + + + + +4 + + +It is clear that the general origin of poetry was due to two causes, +each of them part of human nature. Imitation is natural to man from +childhood, one of his advantages over the lower animals being this, that +he is the most imitative creature in the world, and learns at first +by imitation. And it is also natural for all to delight in works of +imitation. The truth of this second point is shown by experience: though +the objects themselves may be painful to see, we delight to view the +most realistic representations of them in art, the forms for example of +the lowest animals and of dead bodies. The explanation is to be found +in a further fact: to be learning something is the greatest of pleasures +not only to the philosopher but also to the rest of mankind, however +small their capacity for it; the reason of the delight in seeing the +picture is that one is at the same time learning--gathering the meaning +of things, e.g. that the man there is so-and-so; for if one has not +seen the thing before, one's pleasure will not be in the picture as an +imitation of it, but will be due to the execution or colouring or some +similar cause. Imitation, then, being natural to us--as also the sense +of harmony and rhythm, the metres being obviously species of rhythms--it +was through their original aptitude, and by a series of improvements for +the most part gradual on their first efforts, that they created poetry +out of their improvisations. + +Poetry, however, soon broke up into two kinds according to the +differences of character in the individual poets; for the graver among +them would represent noble actions, and those of noble personages; and +the meaner sort the actions of the ignoble. The latter class produced +invectives at first, just as others did hymns and panegyrics. We know of +no such poem by any of the pre-Homeric poets, though there were probably +many such writers among them; instances, however, may be found from +Homer downwards, e.g. his _Margites_, and the similar poems of others. +In this poetry of invective its natural fitness brought an iambic metre +into use; hence our present term 'iambic', because it was the metre of +their 'iambs' or invectives against one another. The result was that +the old poets became some of them writers of heroic and others of iambic +verse. Homer's position, however, is peculiar: just as he was in the +serious style the poet of poets, standing alone not only through the +literary excellence, but also through the dramatic character of his +imitations, so too he was the first to outline for us the general forms +of Comedy by producing not a dramatic invective, but a dramatic picture +of the Ridiculous; his _Margites_ in fact stands in the same relation +to our comedies as the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ to our tragedies. As soon, +however, as Tragedy and Comedy appeared in the field, those naturally +drawn to the one line of poetry became writers of comedies instead of +iambs, and those naturally drawn to the other, writers of tragedies +instead of epics, because these new modes of art were grander and of +more esteem than the old. + +If it be asked whether Tragedy is now all that it need be in its +formative elements, to consider that, and decide it theoretically and in +relation to the theatres, is a matter for another inquiry. + +It certainly began in improvisations--as did also Comedy; the one +originating with the authors of the Dithyramb, the other with those of +the phallic songs, which still survive as institutions in many of our +cities. And its advance after that was little by little, through their +improving on whatever they had before them at each stage. It was in fact +only after a long series of changes that the movement of Tragedy stopped +on its attaining to its natural form. (1) The number of actors was first +increased to two by Aeschylus, who curtailed the business of the Chorus, +and made the dialogue, or spoken portion, take the leading part in the +play. (2) A third actor and scenery were due to Sophocles. (3) Tragedy +acquired also its magnitude. Discarding short stories and a ludicrous +diction, through its passing out of its satyric stage, it assumed, +though only at a late point in its progress, a tone of dignity; and +its metre changed then from trochaic to iambic. The reason for their +original use of the trochaic tetrameter was that their poetry was +satyric and more connected with dancing than it now is. As soon, +however, as a spoken part came in, nature herself found the appropriate +metre. The iambic, we know, is the most speakable of metres, as is shown +by the fact that we very often fall into it in conversation, whereas we +rarely talk hexameters, and only when we depart from the speaking tone +of voice. (4) Another change was a plurality of episodes or acts. As for +the remaining matters, the superadded embellishments and the account of +their introduction, these must be taken as said, as it would probably be +a long piece of work to go through the details. + + + + +5 + + +As for Comedy, it is (as has been observed) an imitation of men worse +than the average; worse, however, not as regards any and every sort of +fault, but only as regards one particular kind, the Ridiculous, which +is a species of the Ugly. The Ridiculous may be defined as a mistake +or deformity not productive of pain or harm to others; the mask, for +instance, that excites laughter, is something ugly and distorted without +causing pain. + +Though the successive changes in Tragedy and their authors are not +unknown, we cannot say the same of Comedy; its early stages passed +unnoticed, because it was not as yet taken up in a serious way. It was +only at a late point in its progress that a chorus of comedians was +officially granted by the archon; they used to be mere volunteers. It +had also already certain definite forms at the time when the record of +those termed comic poets begins. Who it was who supplied it with masks, +or prologues, or a plurality of actors and the like, has remained +unknown. The invented Fable, or Plot, however, originated in Sicily, +with Epicharmus and Phormis; of Athenian poets Crates was the first +to drop the Comedy of invective and frame stories of a general and +non-personal nature, in other words, Fables or Plots. + +Epic poetry, then, has been seen to agree with Tragedy to this extent, +that of being an imitation of serious subjects in a grand kind of verse. +It differs from it, however, (1) in that it is in one kind of verse and +in narrative form; and (2) in its length--which is due to its action +having no fixed limit of time, whereas Tragedy endeavours to keep as far +as possible within a single circuit of the sun, or something near that. +This, I say, is another point of difference between them, though at +first the practice in this respect was just the same in tragedies as +in epic poems. They differ also (3) in their constituents, some being +common to both and others peculiar to Tragedy--hence a judge of good and +bad in Tragedy is a judge of that in epic poetry also. All the parts of +an epic are included in Tragedy; but those of Tragedy are not all of +them to be found in the Epic. + + + + +6 + + +Reserving hexameter poetry and Comedy for consideration hereafter, let +us proceed now to the discussion of Tragedy; before doing so, however, +we must gather up the definition resulting from what has been said. A +tragedy, then, is the imitation of an action that is serious and also, +as having magnitude, complete in itself; in language with pleasurable +accessories, each kind brought in separately in the parts of the work; +in a dramatic, not in a narrative form; with incidents arousing pity and +fear, wherewith to accomplish its catharsis of such emotions. Here by +'language with pleasurable accessories' I mean that with rhythm and +harmony or song superadded; and by 'the kinds separately' I mean that +some portions are worked out with verse only, and others in turn with +song. + +I. As they act the stories, it follows that in the first place the +Spectacle (or stage-appearance of the actors) must be some part of the +whole; and in the second Melody and Diction, these two being the +means of their imitation. Here by 'Diction' I mean merely this, the +composition of the verses; and by 'Melody', what is too completely +understood to require explanation. But further: the subject represented +also is an action; and the action involves agents, who must necessarily +have their distinctive qualities both of character and thought, since it +is from these that we ascribe certain qualities to their actions. There +are in the natural order of things, therefore, two causes, Character and +Thought, of their actions, and consequently of their success or failure +in their lives. Now the action (that which was done) is represented in +the play by the Fable or Plot. The Fable, in our present sense of the +term, is simply this, the combination of the incidents, or things done +in the story; whereas Character is what makes us ascribe certain moral +qualities to the agents; and Thought is shown in all they say when +proving a particular point or, it may be, enunciating a general truth. +There are six parts consequently of every tragedy, as a whole, that +is, of such or such quality, viz. a Fable or Plot, Characters, Diction, +Thought, Spectacle and Melody; two of them arising from the means, one +from the manner, and three from the objects of the dramatic imitation; +and there is nothing else besides these six. Of these, its formative +elements, then, not a few of the dramatists have made due use, as every +play, one may say, admits of Spectacle, Character, Fable, Diction, +Melody, and Thought. + +II. The most important of the six is the combination of the incidents of +the story. + +Tragedy is essentially an imitation not of persons but of action and +life, of happiness and misery. All human happiness or misery takes the +form of action; the end for which we live is a certain kind of +activity, not a quality. Character gives us qualities, but it is in +our actions--what we do--that we are happy or the reverse. In a play +accordingly they do not act in order to portray the Characters; they +include the Characters for the sake of the action. So that it is the +action in it, i.e. its Fable or Plot, that is the end and purpose of +the tragedy; and the end is everywhere the chief thing. Besides this, +a tragedy is impossible without action, but there may be one without +Character. The tragedies of most of the moderns are characterless--a +defect common among poets of all kinds, and with its counterpart in +painting in Zeuxis as compared with Polygnotus; for whereas the latter +is strong in character, the work of Zeuxis is devoid of it. And again: +one may string together a series of characteristic speeches of the +utmost finish as regards Diction and Thought, and yet fail to produce +the true tragic effect; but one will have much better success with +a tragedy which, however inferior in these respects, has a Plot, a +combination of incidents, in it. And again: the most powerful elements +of attraction in Tragedy, the Peripeties and Discoveries, are parts of +the Plot. A further proof is in the fact that beginners succeed earlier +with the Diction and Characters than with the construction of a +story; and the same may be said of nearly all the early dramatists. We +maintain, therefore, that the first essential, the life and soul, so +to speak, of Tragedy is the Plot; and that the Characters come +second--compare the parallel in painting, where the most beautiful +colours laid on without order will not give one the same pleasure as a +simple black-and-white sketch of a portrait. We maintain that Tragedy is +primarily an imitation of action, and that it is mainly for the sake of +the action that it imitates the personal agents. Third comes the element +of Thought, i.e. the power of saying whatever can be said, or what is +appropriate to the occasion. This is what, in the speeches in Tragedy, +falls under the arts of Politics and Rhetoric; for the older poets +make their personages discourse like statesmen, and the moderns like +rhetoricians. One must not confuse it with Character. Character in a +play is that which reveals the moral purpose of the agents, i.e. the +sort of thing they seek or avoid, where that is not obvious--hence there +is no room for Character in a speech on a purely indifferent subject. +Thought, on the other hand, is shown in all they say when proving +or disproving some particular point, or enunciating some universal +proposition. Fourth among the literary elements is the Diction of the +personages, i.e. as before explained, the expression of their thoughts +in words, which is practically the same thing with verse as with prose. +As for the two remaining parts, the Melody is the greatest of the +pleasurable accessories of Tragedy. The Spectacle, though an attraction, +is the least artistic of all the parts, and has least to do with the +art of poetry. The tragic effect is quite possible without a public +performance and actors; and besides, the getting-up of the Spectacle is +more a matter for the costumier than the poet. + + + + +7 + + +Having thus distinguished the parts, let us now consider the proper +construction of the Fable or Plot, as that is at once the first and the +most important thing in Tragedy. We have laid it down that a tragedy is +an imitation of an action that is complete in itself, as a whole of some +magnitude; for a whole may be of no magnitude to speak of. Now a whole +is that which has beginning, middle, and end. A beginning is that which +is not itself necessarily after anything else, and which has naturally +something else after it; an end is that which is naturally after +something itself, either as its necessary or usual consequent, and with +nothing else after it; and a middle, that which is by nature after one +thing and has also another after it. A well-constructed Plot, therefore, +cannot either begin or end at any point one likes; beginning and end in +it must be of the forms just described. Again: to be beautiful, a living +creature, and every whole made up of parts, must not only present a +certain order in its arrangement of parts, but also be of a certain +definite magnitude. Beauty is a matter of size and order, and therefore +impossible either (1) in a very minute creature, since our perception +becomes indistinct as it approaches instantaneity; or (2) in a creature +of vast size--one, say, 1,000 miles long--as in that case, instead of +the object being seen all at once, the unity and wholeness of it is lost +to the beholder. + +Just in the same way, then, as a beautiful whole made up of parts, or a +beautiful living creature, must be of some size, a size to be taken in +by the eye, so a story or Plot must be of some length, but of a length +to be taken in by the memory. As for the limit of its length, so far as +that is relative to public performances and spectators, it does not fall +within the theory of poetry. If they had to perform a hundred tragedies, +they would be timed by water-clocks, as they are said to have been at +one period. The limit, however, set by the actual nature of the thing is +this: the longer the story, consistently with its being comprehensible +as a whole, the finer it is by reason of its magnitude. As a rough +general formula, 'a length which allows of the hero passing by a series +of probable or necessary stages from misfortune to happiness, or from +happiness to misfortune', may suffice as a limit for the magnitude of +the story. + + + + +8 + + +The Unity of a Plot does not consist, as some suppose, in its having one +man as its subject. An infinity of things befall that one man, some of +which it is impossible to reduce to unity; and in like manner there are +many actions of one man which cannot be made to form one action. +One sees, therefore, the mistake of all the poets who have written a +_Heracleid_, a _Theseid_, or similar poems; they suppose that, because +Heracles was one man, the story also of Heracles must be one story. +Homer, however, evidently understood this point quite well, whether +by art or instinct, just in the same way as he excels the rest in every +other respect. In writing an _Odyssey_, he did not make the poem cover +all that ever befell his hero--it befell him, for instance, to get +wounded on Parnassus and also to feign madness at the time of the call +to arms, but the two incidents had no probable or necessary connexion +with one another--instead of doing that, he took an action with a Unity +of the kind we are describing as the subject of the _Odyssey_, as also +of the _Iliad_. The truth is that, just as in the other imitative arts +one imitation is always of one thing, so in poetry the story, as an +imitation of action, must represent one action, a complete whole, +with its several incidents so closely connected that the transposal or +withdrawal of any one of them will disjoin and dislocate the whole. For +that which makes no perceptible difference by its presence or absence is +no real part of the whole. + + + + +9 + + +From what we have said it will be seen that the poet's function is to +describe, not the thing that has happened, but a kind of thing that +might happen, i.e. what is possible as being probable or necessary. The +distinction between historian and poet is not in the one writing prose +and the other verse--you might put the work of Herodotus into verse, and +it would still be a species of history; it consists really in this, that +the one describes the thing that has been, and the other a kind of thing +that might be. Hence poetry is something more philosophic and of graver +import than history, since its statements are of the nature rather +of universals, whereas those of history are singulars. By a universal +statement I mean one as to what such or such a kind of man will probably +or necessarily say or do--which is the aim of poetry, though it affixes +proper names to the characters; by a singular statement, one as to what, +say, Alcibiades did or had done to him. In Comedy this has become clear +by this time; it is only when their plot is already made up of probable +incidents that they give it a basis of proper names, choosing for the +purpose any names that may occur to them, instead of writing like the +old iambic poets about particular persons. In Tragedy, however, they +still adhere to the historic names; and for this reason: what convinces +is the possible; now whereas we are not yet sure as to the possibility +of that which has not happened, that which has happened is manifestly +possible, else it would not have come to pass. Nevertheless even in +Tragedy there are some plays with but one or two known names in them, +the rest being inventions; and there are some without a single known +name, e.g. Agathon's Anthens, in which both incidents and names are of +the poet's invention; and it is no less delightful on that account. So +that one must not aim at a rigid adherence to the traditional stories +on which tragedies are based. It would be absurd, in fact, to do so, +as even the known stories are only known to a few, though they are a +delight none the less to all. + +It is evident from the above that, the poet must be more the poet of his +stories or Plots than of his verses, inasmuch as he is a poet by +virtue of the imitative element in his work, and it is actions that he +imitates. And if he should come to take a subject from actual history, +he is none the less a poet for that; since some historic occurrences may +very well be in the probable and possible order of things; and it is in +that aspect of them that he is their poet. + +Of simple Plots and actions the episodic are the worst. I call a Plot +episodic when there is neither probability nor necessity in the sequence +of episodes. Actions of this sort bad poets construct through their +own fault, and good ones on account of the players. His work being for +public performance, a good poet often stretches out a Plot beyond its +capabilities, and is thus obliged to twist the sequence of incident. + +Tragedy, however, is an imitation not only of a complete action, but +also of incidents arousing pity and fear. Such incidents have the very +greatest effect on the mind when they occur unexpectedly and at the same +time in consequence of one another; there is more of the marvellous in +them then than if they happened of themselves or by mere chance. Even +matters of chance seem most marvellous if there is an appearance of +design as it were in them; as for instance the statue of Mitys at +Argos killed the author of Mitys' death by falling down on him when a +looker-on at a public spectacle; for incidents like that we think to be +not without a meaning. A Plot, therefore, of this sort is necessarily +finer than others. + + + + +10 + + +Plots are either simple or complex, since the actions they represent are +naturally of this twofold description. The action, proceeding in the way +defined, as one continuous whole, I call simple, when the change in the +hero's fortunes takes place without Peripety or Discovery; and complex, +when it involves one or the other, or both. These should each of +them arise out of the structure of the Plot itself, so as to be the +consequence, necessary or probable, of the antecedents. There is a great +difference between a thing happening _propter hoc_ and _post hoc_. + + + + +11 + + +A Peripety is the change from one state of things within the play to its +opposite of the kind described, and that too in the way we are saying, +in the probable or necessary sequence of events; as it is for instance +in _Oedipus_: here the opposite state of things is produced by the +Messenger, who, coming to gladden Oedipus and to remove his fears as to +his mother, reveals the secret of his birth. And in _Lynceus_: just as +he is being led off for execution, with Danaus at his side to put him to +death, the incidents preceding this bring it about that he is saved and +Danaus put to death. A Discovery is, as the very word implies, a change +from ignorance to knowledge, and thus to either love or hate, in the +personages marked for good or evil fortune. The finest form of Discovery +is one attended by Peripeties, like that which goes with the Discovery +in _Oedipus_. There are no doubt other forms of it; what we have said +may happen in a way in reference to inanimate things, even things of a +very casual kind; and it is also possible to discover whether some one +has done or not done something. But the form most directly connected +with the Plot and the action of the piece is the first-mentioned. This, +with a Peripety, will arouse either pity or fear--actions of that nature +being what Tragedy is assumed to represent; and it will also serve to +bring about the happy or unhappy ending. The Discovery, then, being of +persons, it may be that of one party only to the other, the latter being +already known; or both the parties may have to discover themselves. +Iphigenia, for instance, was discovered to Orestes by sending the +letter; and another Discovery was required to reveal him to Iphigenia. + +Two parts of the Plot, then, Peripety and Discovery, are on matters of +this sort. A third part is Suffering; which we may define as an action +of a destructive or painful nature, such as murders on the stage, +tortures, woundings, and the like. The other two have been already +explained. + + + + +12 + + +The parts of Tragedy to be treated as formative elements in the whole +were mentioned in a previous Chapter. From the point of view, however, +of its quantity, i.e. the separate sections into which it is divided, a +tragedy has the following parts: Prologue, Episode, Exode, and a choral +portion, distinguished into Parode and Stasimon; these two are common to +all tragedies, whereas songs from the stage and Commoe are only found +in some. The Prologue is all that precedes the Parode of the chorus; an +Episode all that comes in between two whole choral songs; the Exode +all that follows after the last choral song. In the choral portion the +Parode is the whole first statement of the chorus; a Stasimon, a song of +the chorus without anapaests or trochees; a Commas, a lamentation sung +by chorus and actor in concert. The parts of Tragedy to be used as +formative elements in the whole we have already mentioned; the above +are its parts from the point of view of its quantity, or the separate +sections into which it is divided. + + + + +13 + + +The next points after what we have said above will be these: (1) What is +the poet to aim at, and what is he to avoid, in constructing his Plots? +and (2) What are the conditions on which the tragic effect depends? + +We assume that, for the finest form of Tragedy, the Plot must be not +simple but complex; and further, that it must imitate actions arousing +pity and fear, since that is the distinctive function of this kind of +imitation. It follows, therefore, that there are three forms of Plot to +be avoided. (1) A good man must not be seen passing from happiness to +misery, or (2) a bad man from misery to happiness. + +The first situation is not fear-inspiring or piteous, but simply odious +to us. The second is the most untragic that can be; it has no one of the +requisites of Tragedy; it does not appeal either to the human feeling in +us, or to our pity, or to our fears. Nor, on the other hand, should (3) +an extremely bad man be seen falling from happiness into misery. Such +a story may arouse the human feeling in us, but it will not move us to +either pity or fear; pity is occasioned by undeserved misfortune, and +fear by that of one like ourselves; so that there will be nothing either +piteous or fear-inspiring in the situation. There remains, then, the +intermediate kind of personage, a man not pre-eminently virtuous and +just, whose misfortune, however, is brought upon him not by vice and +depravity but by some error of judgement, of the number of those in the +enjoyment of great reputation and prosperity; e.g. Oedipus, Thyestes, +and the men of note of similar families. The perfect Plot, accordingly, +must have a single, and not (as some tell us) a double issue; the change +in the hero's fortunes must be not from misery to happiness, but on the +contrary from happiness to misery; and the cause of it must lie not +in any depravity, but in some great error on his part; the man himself +being either such as we have described, or better, not worse, than that. +Fact also confirms our theory. Though the poets began by accepting any +tragic story that came to hand, in these days the finest tragedies are +always on the story of some few houses, on that of Alemeon, Oedipus, +Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Telephus, or any others that may have been +involved, as either agents or sufferers, in some deed of horror. The +theoretically best tragedy, then, has a Plot of this description. The +critics, therefore, are wrong who blame Euripides for taking this line +in his tragedies, and giving many of them an unhappy ending. It is, as +we have said, the right line to take. The best proof is this: on the +stage, and in the public performances, such plays, properly worked +out, are seen to be the most truly tragic; and Euripides, even if +his elecution be faulty in every other point, is seen to be nevertheless +the most tragic certainly of the dramatists. After this comes the +construction of Plot which some rank first, one with a double story +(like the _Odyssey_) and an opposite issue for the good and the bad +personages. It is ranked as first only through the weakness of the +audiences; the poets merely follow their public, writing as its wishes +dictate. But the pleasure here is not that of Tragedy. It belongs rather +to Comedy, where the bitterest enemies in the piece (e.g. Orestes and +Aegisthus) walk off good friends at the end, with no slaying of any one +by any one. + + + + +14 + + +The tragic fear and pity may be aroused by the Spectacle; but they may +also be aroused by the very structure and incidents of the play--which +is the better way and shows the better poet. The Plot in fact should be +so framed that, even without seeing the things take place, he who simply +hears the account of them shall be filled with horror and pity at the +incidents; which is just the effect that the mere recital of the story +in _Oedipus_ would have on one. To produce this same effect by means +of the Spectacle is less artistic, and requires extraneous aid. Those, +however, who make use of the Spectacle to put before us that which is +merely monstrous and not productive of fear, are wholly out of touch +with Tragedy; not every kind of pleasure should be required of a +tragedy, but only its own proper pleasure. + +The tragic pleasure is that of pity and fear, and the poet has to +produce it by a work of imitation; it is clear, therefore, that the +causes should be included in the incidents of his story. Let us see, +then, what kinds of incident strike one as horrible, or rather as +piteous. In a deed of this description the parties must necessarily +be either friends, or enemies, or indifferent to one another. Now when +enemy does it on enemy, there is nothing to move us to pity either in +his doing or in his meditating the deed, except so far as the actual +pain of the sufferer is concerned; and the same is true when the parties +are indifferent to one another. Whenever the tragic deed, however, is +done within the family--when murder or the like is done or meditated +by brother on brother, by son on father, by mother on son, or son +on mother--these are the situations the poet should seek after. The +traditional stories, accordingly, must be kept as they are, e.g. the +murder of Clytaemnestra by Orestes and of Eriphyle by Alcmeon. At the +same time even with these there is something left to the poet himself; +it is for him to devise the right way of treating them. Let us explain +more clearly what we mean by 'the right way'. The deed of horror may be +done by the doer knowingly and consciously, as in the old poets, and +in Medea's murder of her children in Euripides. Or he may do it, but in +ignorance of his relationship, and discover that afterwards, as does the +_Oedipus_ in Sophocles. Here the deed is outside the play; but it may +be within it, like the act of the Alcmeon in Astydamas, or that of +the Telegonus in _Ulysses Wounded_. A third possibility is for +one meditating some deadly injury to another, in ignorance of his +relationship, to make the discovery in time to draw back. These exhaust +the possibilities, since the deed must necessarily be either done or not +done, and either knowingly or unknowingly. + +The worst situation is when the personage is with full knowledge on the +point of doing the deed, and leaves it undone. It is odious and also +(through the absence of suffering) untragic; hence it is that no one is +made to act thus except in some few instances, e.g. Haemon and Creon in +_Antigone_. Next after this comes the actual perpetration of the deed +meditated. A better situation than that, however, is for the deed to +be done in ignorance, and the relationship discovered afterwards, since +there is nothing odious in it, and the Discovery will serve to astound +us. But the best of all is the last; what we have in _Cresphontes_, for +example, where Merope, on the point of slaying her son, recognizes +him in time; in _Iphigenia_, where sister and brother are in a like +position; and in _Helle_, where the son recognizes his mother, when on +the point of giving her up to her enemy. + +This will explain why our tragedies are restricted (as we said just now) +to such a small number of families. It was accident rather than art that +led the poets in quest of subjects to embody this kind of incident in +their Plots. They are still obliged, accordingly, to have recourse to +the families in which such horrors have occurred. + +On the construction of the Plot, and the kind of Plot required for +Tragedy, enough has now been said. + + + + +15 + + +In the Characters there are four points to aim at. First and foremost, +that they shall be good. There will be an element of character in the +play, if (as has been observed) what a personage says or does reveals a +certain moral purpose; and a good element of character, if the +purpose so revealed is good. Such goodness is possible in every type +of personage, even in a woman or a slave, though the one is perhaps an +inferior, and the other a wholly worthless being. The second point is to +make them appropriate. The Character before us may be, say, manly; but +it is not appropriate in a female Character to be manly, or clever. The +third is to make them like the reality, which is not the same as their +being good and appropriate, in our sense of the term. The fourth is to +make them consistent and the same throughout; even if inconsistency +be part of the man before one for imitation as presenting that form +of character, he should still be consistently inconsistent. We have an +instance of baseness of character, not required for the story, in +the Menelaus in _Orestes_; of the incongruous and unbefitting in the +lamentation of Ulysses in _Scylla_, and in the (clever) speech of +Melanippe; and of inconsistency in _Iphigenia at Aulis_, where Iphigenia +the suppliant is utterly unlike the later Iphigenia. The right thing, +however, is in the Characters just as in the incidents of the play to +endeavour always after the necessary or the probable; so that whenever +such-and-such a personage says or does such-and-such a thing, it shall +be the probable or necessary outcome of his character; and whenever +this incident follows on that, it shall be either the necessary or the +probable consequence of it. From this one sees (to digress for a moment) +that the Denouement also should arise out of the plot itself, arid +not depend on a stage-artifice, as in _Medea_, or in the story of the +(arrested) departure of the Greeks in the _Iliad_. The artifice must +be reserved for matters outside the play--for past events beyond human +knowledge, or events yet to come, which require to be foretold or +announced; since it is the privilege of the Gods to know everything. +There should be nothing improbable among the actual incidents. If it +be unavoidable, however, it should be outside the tragedy, like the +improbability in the _Oedipus_ of Sophocles. But to return to the +Characters. As Tragedy is an imitation of personages better than +the ordinary man, we in our way should follow the example of good +portrait-painters, who reproduce the distinctive features of a man, and +at the same time, without losing the likeness, make him handsomer than +he is. The poet in like manner, in portraying men quick or slow to +anger, or with similar infirmities of character, must know how to +represent them as such, and at the same time as good men, as Agathon and +Homer have represented Achilles. + +All these rules one must keep in mind throughout, and further, those +also for such points of stage-effect as directly depend on the art +of the poet, since in these too one may often make mistakes. Enough, +however, has been said on the subject in one of our published writings. + + + + +16 + + +Discovery in general has been explained already. As for the species of +Discovery, the first to be noted is (1) the least artistic form of +it, of which the poets make most use through mere lack of invention, +Discovery by signs or marks. Of these signs some are congenital, like +the 'lance-head which the Earth-born have on them', or 'stars', such as +Carcinus brings in in his _Thyestes_; others acquired after birth--these +latter being either marks on the body, e.g. scars, or external tokens, +like necklaces, or to take another sort of instance, the ark in the +Discovery in _Tyro_. Even these, however, admit of two uses, a better +and a worse; the scar of Ulysses is an instance; the Discovery of +him through it is made in one way by the nurse and in another by the +swineherds. A Discovery using signs as a means of assurance is less +artistic, as indeed are all such as imply reflection; whereas one +bringing them in all of a sudden, as in the _Bath-story_, is of a better +order. Next after these are (2) Discoveries made directly by the poet; +which are inartistic for that very reason; e.g. Orestes' Discovery of +himself in _Iphigenia_: whereas his sister reveals who she is by the +letter, Orestes is made to say himself what the poet rather than +the story demands. This, therefore, is not far removed from the +first-mentioned fault, since he might have presented certain tokens +as well. Another instance is the 'shuttle's voice' in the _Tereus_ of +Sophocles. (3) A third species is Discovery through memory, from a man's +consciousness being awakened by something seen or heard. Thus in _The +Cyprioe_ of Dicaeogenes, the sight of the picture makes the man burst +into tears; and in the _Tale of Alcinous_, hearing the harper Ulysses is +reminded of the past and weeps; the Discovery of them being the +result. (4) A fourth kind is Discovery through reasoning; e.g. in _The +Choephoroe_: 'One like me is here; there is no one like me but Orestes; +he, therefore, must be here.' Or that which Polyidus the Sophist +suggested for _Iphigenia_; since it was natural for Orestes to reflect: +'My sister was sacrificed, and I am to be sacrificed like her.' Or that +in the _Tydeus_ of Theodectes: 'I came to find a son, and am to die +myself.' Or that in _The Phinidae_: on seeing the place the women +inferred their fate, that they were to die there, since they had also +been exposed there. (5) There is, too, a composite Discovery arising +from bad reasoning on the side of the other party. An instance of it is +in _Ulysses the False Messenger_: he said he should know the bow--which +he had not seen; but to suppose from that that he would know it again +(as though he had once seen it) was bad reasoning. (6) The best of all +Discoveries, however, is that arising from the incidents themselves, +when the great surprise comes about through a probable incident, like +that in the _Oedipus_ of Sophocles; and also in _Iphigenia_; for it was +not improbable that she should wish to have a letter taken home. These +last are the only Discoveries independent of the artifice of signs and +necklaces. Next after them come Discoveries through reasoning. + + + + +17 + + +At the time when he is constructing his Plots, and engaged on the +Diction in which they are worked out, the poet should remember (1) to +put the actual scenes as far as possible before his eyes. In this way, +seeing everything with the vividness of an eye-witness as it were, +he will devise what is appropriate, and be least likely to overlook +incongruities. This is shown by what was censured in Carcinus, the +return of Amphiaraus from the sanctuary; it would have passed unnoticed, +if it had not been actually seen by the audience; but on the stage his +play failed, the incongruity of the incident offending the spectators. +(2) As far as may be, too, the poet should even act his story with the +very gestures of his personages. Given the same natural qualifications, +he who feels the emotions to be described will be the most convincing; +distress and anger, for instance, are portrayed most truthfully by one +who is feeling them at the moment. Hence it is that poetry demands a man +with special gift for it, or else one with a touch of madness in him; +the former can easily assume the required mood, and the latter may +be actually beside himself with emotion. (3) His story, again, whether +already made or of his own making, he should first simplify and reduce +to a universal form, before proceeding to lengthen it out by the +insertion of episodes. The following will show how the universal element +in _Iphigenia_, for instance, may be viewed: A certain maiden having +been offered in sacrifice, and spirited away from her sacrificers into +another land, where the custom was to sacrifice all strangers to the +Goddess, she was made there the priestess of this rite. Long after that +the brother of the priestess happened to come; the fact, however, of the +oracle having for a certain reason bidden him go thither, and his +object in going, are outside the Plot of the play. On his coming he +was arrested, and about to be sacrificed, when he revealed who he +was--either as Euripides puts it, or (as suggested by Polyidus) by the +not improbable exclamation, 'So I too am doomed to be sacrificed, as +my sister was'; and the disclosure led to his salvation. This done, the +next thing, after the proper names have been fixed as a basis for the +story, is to work in episodes or accessory incidents. One must mind, +however, that the episodes are appropriate, like the fit of madness in +Orestes, which led to his arrest, and the purifying, which brought about +his salvation. In plays, then, the episodes are short; in epic poetry +they serve to lengthen out the poem. The argument of the _Odyssey_ is +not a long one. + +A certain man has been abroad many years; Poseidon is ever on the watch +for him, and he is all alone. Matters at home too have come to this, +that his substance is being wasted and his son's death plotted by +suitors to his wife. Then he arrives there himself after his grievous +sufferings; reveals himself, and falls on his enemies; and the end is +his salvation and their death. This being all that is proper to the +_Odyssey_, everything else in it is episode. + + + + +18 + + +(4) There is a further point to be borne in mind. Every tragedy is +in part Complication and in part Denouement; the incidents before the +opening scene, and often certain also of those within the play, forming +the Complication; and the rest the Denouement. By Complication I mean +all from the beginning of the story to the point just before the change +in the hero's fortunes; by Denouement, all from the beginning of the +change to the end. In the _Lynceus_ of Theodectes, for instance, the +Complication includes, together with the presupposed incidents, the +seizure of the child and that in turn of the parents; and the Denouement +all from the indictment for the murder to the end. Now it is right, when +one speaks of a tragedy as the same or not the same as another, to do so +on the ground before all else of their Plot, i.e. as having the same or +not the same Complication and Denouement. Yet there are many dramatists +who, after a good Complication, fail in the Denouement. But it is +necessary for both points of construction to be always duly mastered. +(5) There are four distinct species of Tragedy--that being the number +of the constituents also that have been mentioned: first, the complex +Tragedy, which is all Peripety and Discovery; second, the Tragedy +of suffering, e.g. the _Ajaxes_ and _Ixions_; third, the Tragedy of +character, e.g. _The Phthiotides_ and _Peleus_. The fourth constituent +is that of 'Spectacle', exemplified in _The Phorcides_, in _Prometheus_, +and in all plays with the scene laid in the nether world. The poet's +aim, then, should be to combine every element of interest, if possible, +or else the more important and the major part of them. This is now +especially necessary owing to the unfair criticism to which the poet is +subjected in these days. Just because there have been poets before him +strong in the several species of tragedy, the critics now expect the +one man to surpass that which was the strong point of each one of his +predecessors. (6) One should also remember what has been said more than +once, and not write a tragedy on an epic body of incident (i.e. one with +a plurality of stories in it), by attempting to dramatize, for instance, +the entire story of the _Iliad_. In the epic owing to its scale every +part is treated at proper length; with a drama, however, on the same +story the result is very disappointing. This is shown by the fact that +all who have dramatized the fall of Ilium in its entirety, and not part +by part, like Euripides, or the whole of the Niobe story, instead of a +portion, like Aeschylus, either fail utterly or have but ill success +on the stage; for that and that alone was enough to ruin a play by +Agathon. Yet in their Peripeties, as also in their simple plots, the +poets I mean show wonderful skill in aiming at the kind of effect they +desire--a tragic situation that arouses the human feeling in one, like +the clever villain (e.g. Sisyphus) deceived, or the brave wrongdoer +worsted. This is probable, however, only in Agathon's sense, when he +speaks of the probability of even improbabilities coming to pass. (7) +The Chorus too should be regarded as one of the actors; it should be an +integral part of the whole, and take a share in the action--that which +it has in Sophocles rather than in Euripides. With the later poets, +however, the songs in a play of theirs have no more to do with the Plot +of that than of any other tragedy. Hence it is that they are now singing +intercalary pieces, a practice first introduced by Agathon. And yet what +real difference is there between singing such intercalary pieces, and +attempting to fit in a speech, or even a whole act, from one play into +another? + + + + +19 + + +The Plot and Characters having been discussed, it remains to consider +the Diction and Thought. As for the Thought, we may assume what is +said of it in our Art of Rhetoric, as it belongs more properly to +that department of inquiry. The Thought of the personages is shown in +everything to be effected by their language--in every effort to prove +or disprove, to arouse emotion (pity, fear, anger, and the like), or +to maximize or minimize things. It is clear, also, that their mental +procedure must be on the same lines in their actions likewise, whenever +they wish them to arouse pity or horror, or have a look of importance or +probability. The only difference is that with the act the impression has +to be made without explanation; whereas with the spoken word it has to +be produced by the speaker, and result from his language. What, indeed, +would be the good of the speaker, if things appeared in the required +light even apart from anything he says? + +As regards the Diction, one subject for inquiry under this head is the +turns given to the language when spoken; e.g. the difference between +command and prayer, simple statement and threat, question and answer, +and so forth. The theory of such matters, however, belongs to Elocution +and the professors of that art. Whether the poet knows these things or +not, his art as a poet is never seriously criticized on that account. +What fault can one see in Homer's 'Sing of the wrath, Goddess'?--which +Protagoras has criticized as being a command where a prayer was meant, +since to bid one do or not do, he tells us, is a command. Let us pass +over this, then, as appertaining to another art, and not to that of +poetry. + + + + +20 + + +The Diction viewed as a whole is made up of the following parts: +the Letter (or ultimate element), the Syllable, the Conjunction, the +Article, the Noun, the Verb, the Case, and the Speech. (1) The Letter is +an indivisible sound of a particular kind, one that may become a factor +in an intelligible sound. Indivisible sounds are uttered by the brutes +also, but no one of these is a Letter in our sense of the term. These +elementary sounds are either vowels, semivowels, or mutes. A vowel is a +Letter having an audible sound without the addition of another Letter. +A semivowel, one having an audible sound by the addition of another +Letter; e.g. S and R. A mute, one having no sound at all by itself, but +becoming audible by an addition, that of one of the Letters which have +a sound of some sort of their own; e.g. D and G. The Letters differ in +various ways: as produced by different conformations or in different +regions of the mouth; as aspirated, not aspirated, or sometimes one +and sometimes the other; as long, short, or of variable quantity; and +further as having an acute grave, or intermediate accent. + +The details of these matters we must leave to the metricians. (2) A +Syllable is a nonsignificant composite sound, made up of a mute and a +Letter having a sound (a vowel or semivowel); for GR, without an A, +is just as much a Syllable as GRA, with an A. The various forms of the +Syllable also belong to the theory of metre. (3) A Conjunction is (a) a +non-significant sound which, when one significant sound is formable out +of several, neither hinders nor aids the union, and which, if the Speech +thus formed stands by itself (apart from other Speeches) must not be +inserted at the beginning of it; e.g. _men_, _de_, _toi_, _de_. Or (b) +a non-significant sound capable of combining two or more significant +sounds into one; e.g. _amphi_, _peri_, etc. (4) An Article is a +non-significant sound marking the beginning, end, or dividing-point of +a Speech, its natural place being either at the extremities or in +the middle. (5) A Noun or name is a composite significant sound not +involving the idea of time, with parts which have no significance by +themselves in it. It is to be remembered that in a compound we do not +think of the parts as having a significance also by themselves; in the +name 'Theodorus', for instance, the _doron_ means nothing to us. + +(6) A Verb is a composite significant sound involving the idea of +time, with parts which (just as in the Noun) have no significance by +themselves in it. Whereas the word 'man' or 'white' does not imply +_when_, 'walks' and 'has walked' involve in addition to the idea of +walking that of time present or time past. + +(7) A Case of a Noun or Verb is when the word means 'of or 'to' a thing, +and so forth, or for one or many (e.g. 'man' and 'men'); or it may +consist merely in the mode of utterance, e.g. in question, command, etc. +'Walked?' and 'Walk!' are Cases of the verb 'to walk' of this last kind. +(8) A Speech is a composite significant sound, some of the parts of +which have a certain significance by themselves. It may be observed that +a Speech is not always made up of Noun and Verb; it may be without a +Verb, like the definition of man; but it will always have some part with +a certain significance by itself. In the Speech 'Cleon walks', 'Cleon' +is an instance of such a part. A Speech is said to be one in two ways, +either as signifying one thing, or as a union of several Speeches made +into one by conjunction. Thus the _Iliad_ is one Speech by conjunction +of several; and the definition of man is one through its signifying one +thing. + + + + +21 + + +Nouns are of two kinds, either (1) simple, i.e. made up of +non-significant parts, like the word ge, or (2) double; in the +latter case the word may be made up either of a significant and a +non-significant part (a distinction which disappears in the compound), +or of two significant parts. It is possible also to have triple, +quadruple or higher compounds, like most of our amplified names; e.g.' +Hermocaicoxanthus' and the like. + +Whatever its structure, a Noun must always be either (1) the ordinary +word for the thing, or (2) a strange word, or (3) a metaphor, or (4) an +ornamental word, or (5) a coined word, or (6) a word lengthened out, or +(7) curtailed, or (8) altered in form. By the ordinary word I mean +that in general use in a country; and by a strange word, one in use +elsewhere. So that the same word may obviously be at once strange and +ordinary, though not in reference to the same people; _sigunos_, for +instance, is an ordinary word in Cyprus, and a strange word with us. +Metaphor consists in giving the thing a name that belongs to something +else; the transference being either from genus to species, or from +species to genus, or from species to species, or on grounds of analogy. +That from genus to species is eXemplified in 'Here stands my ship'; for +lying at anchor is the 'standing' of a particular kind of thing. That +from species to genus in 'Truly ten thousand good deeds has Ulysses +wrought', where 'ten thousand', which is a particular large number, +is put in place of the generic 'a large number'. That from species to +species in 'Drawing the life with the bronze', and in 'Severing with the +enduring bronze'; where the poet uses 'draw' in the sense of 'sever' and +'sever' in that of 'draw', both words meaning to 'take away' something. +That from analogy is possible whenever there are four terms so related +that the second (B) is to the first (A), as the fourth (D) to the third +(C); for one may then metaphorically put B in lieu of D, and D in lieu +of B. Now and then, too, they qualify the metaphor by adding on to it +that to which the word it supplants is relative. Thus a cup (B) is +in relation to Dionysus (A) what a shield (D) is to Ares (C). The +cup accordingly will be metaphorically described as the 'shield _of +Dionysus_' (D + A), and the shield as the 'cup _of Ares_' (B + C). Or to +take another instance: As old age (D) is to life (C), so is evening (B) +to day (A). One will accordingly describe evening (B) as the 'old age +_of the day_' (D + A)--or by the Empedoclean equivalent; and old age (D) +as the 'evening' or 'sunset of life'' (B + C). It may be that some of +the terms thus related have no special name of their own, but for all +that they will be metaphorically described in just the same way. Thus to +cast forth seed-corn is called 'sowing'; but to cast forth its flame, +as said of the sun, has no special name. This nameless act (B), however, +stands in just the same relation to its object, sunlight (A), as sowing +(D) to the seed-corn (C). Hence the expression in the poet, 'sowing +around a god-created _flame_' (D + A). There is also another form of +qualified metaphor. Having given the thing the alien name, one may by a +negative addition deny of it one of the attributes naturally associated +with its new name. An instance of this would be to call the shield not +the 'cup _of Ares_,' as in the former case, but a 'cup _that holds no +wine_'. * * * A coined word is a name which, being quite unknown among +a people, is given by the poet himself; e.g. (for there are some words +that seem to be of this origin) _hernyges_ for horns, and _areter_ for +priest. A word is said to be lengthened out, when it has a short vowel +made long, or an extra syllable inserted; e. g. _polleos_ for _poleos_, +_Peleiadeo_ for _Peleidon_. It is said to be curtailed, when it has lost +a part; e.g. _kri_, _do_, and _ops_ in _mia ginetai amphoteron ops_. +It is an altered word, when part is left as it was and part is of the +poet's making; e.g. _dexiteron_ for _dexion_, in _dexiteron kata maxon_. + +The Nouns themselves (to whatever class they may belong) are either +masculines, feminines, or intermediates (neuter). All ending in N, P, +S, or in the two compounds of this last, PS and X, are masculines. All +ending in the invariably long vowels, H and O, and in A among the vowels +that may be long, are feminines. So that there is an equal number of +masculine and feminine terminations, as PS and X are the same as S, +and need not be counted. There is no Noun, however, ending in a mute +or in either of the two short vowels, E and O. Only three (_meli, kommi, +peperi_) end in I, and five in T. The intermediates, or neuters, end in +the variable vowels or in N, P, X. + + + + +22 + + +The perfection of Diction is for it to be at once clear and not mean. +The clearest indeed is that made up of the ordinary words for things, +but it is mean, as is shown by the poetry of Cleophon and Sthenelus. On +the other hand the Diction becomes distinguished and non-prosaic by +the use of unfamiliar terms, i.e. strange words, metaphors, lengthened +forms, and everything that deviates from the ordinary modes of +speech.--But a whole statement in such terms will be either a riddle or +a barbarism, a riddle, if made up of metaphors, a barbarism, if made +up of strange words. The very nature indeed of a riddle is this, to +describe a fact in an impossible combination of words (which cannot be +done with the real names for things, but can be with their metaphorical +substitutes); e.g. 'I saw a man glue brass on another with fire', +and the like. The corresponding use of strange words results in a +barbarism.--A certain admixture, accordingly, of unfamiliar terms +is necessary. These, the strange word, the metaphor, the ornamental +equivalent, etc.. will save the language from seeming mean and prosaic, +while the ordinary words in it will secure the requisite clearness. What +helps most, however, to render the Diction at once clear and non-prosaic +is the use of the lengthened, curtailed, and altered forms of words. +Their deviation from the ordinary words will, by making the language +unlike that in general use give it a non-prosaic appearance; and their +having much in common with the words in general use will give it the +quality of clearness. It is not right, then, to condemn these modes of +speech, and ridicule the poet for using them, as some have done; e.g. +the elder Euclid, who said it was easy to make poetry if one were to +be allowed to lengthen the words in the statement itself as much as +one likes--a procedure he caricatured by reading '_Epixarhon eidon +Marathonade Badi--gonta_, and _ouk han g' eramenos ton ekeinou helle +boron_ as verses. A too apparent use of these licences has certainly a +ludicrous effect, but they are not alone in that; the rule of moderation +applies to all the constituents of the poetic vocabulary; even with +metaphors, strange words, and the rest, the effect will be the same, +if one uses them improperly and with a view to provoking laughter. The +proper use of them is a very different thing. To realize the difference +one should take an epic verse and see how it reads when the normal words +are introduced. The same should be done too with the strange word, the +metaphor, and the rest; for one has only to put the ordinary words in +their place to see the truth of what we are saying. The same iambic, for +instance, is found in Aeschylus and Euripides, and as it stands in the +former it is a poor line; whereas Euripides, by the change of a single +word, the substitution of a strange for what is by usage the ordinary +word, has made it seem a fine one. Aeschylus having said in his +_Philoctetes_: + + _phagedaina he mon sarkas hesthiei podos_ + +Euripides has merely altered the hesthiei here into thoinatai. Or +suppose + + _nun de m' heon holigos te kai outidanos kai haeikos_ + +to be altered by the substitution of the ordinary words into + + _nun de m' heon mikros te kai hasthenikos kai haeidos_ + +Or the line + + _diphron haeikelion katatheis olingen te trapexan_ + +into + + _diphron moxtheron katatheis mikran te trapexan_ + +Or heiones boosin into heiones kraxousin. Add to this that Ariphrades +used to ridicule the tragedians for introducing expressions unknown +in the language of common life, _doeaton hapo_ (for _apo domaton_), +_sethen_, _hego de nin_, _Achilleos peri_ (for _peri Achilleos_), and +the like. The mere fact of their not being in ordinary speech gives the +Diction a non-prosaic character; but Ariphrades was unaware of that. It +is a great thing, indeed, to make a proper use of these poetical forms, +as also of compounds and strange words. But the greatest thing by far +is to be a master of metaphor. It is the one thing that cannot be learnt +from others; and it is also a sign of genius, since a good metaphor +implies an intuitive perception of the similarity in dissimilars. + +Of the kinds of words we have enumerated it may be observed that +compounds are most in place in the dithyramb, strange words in heroic, +and metaphors in iambic poetry. Heroic poetry, indeed, may avail itself +of them all. But in iambic verse, which models itself as far as possible +on the spoken language, only those kinds of words are in place which are +allowable also in an oration, i.e. the ordinary word, the metaphor, and +the ornamental equivalent. + +Let this, then, suffice as an account of Tragedy, the art imitating by +means of action on the stage. + + + + +23 + + +As for the poetry which merely narrates, or imitates by means of +versified language (without action), it is evident that it has several +points in common with Tragedy. + +I. The construction of its stories should clearly be like that in a +drama; they should be based on a single action, one that is a complete +whole in itself, with a beginning, middle, and end, so as to enable the +work to produce its own proper pleasure with all the organic unity of a +living creature. Nor should one suppose that there is anything like them +in our usual histories. A history has to deal not with one action, but +with one period and all that happened in that to one or more persons, +however disconnected the several events may have been. Just as two +events may take place at the same time, e.g. the sea-fight off Salamis +and the battle with the Carthaginians in Sicily, without converging to +the same end, so too of two consecutive events one may sometimes come +after the other with no one end as their common issue. Nevertheless most +of our epic poets, one may say, ignore the distinction. + +Herein, then, to repeat what we have said before, we have a further +proof of Homer's marvellous superiority to the rest. He did not attempt +to deal even with the Trojan war in its entirety, though it was a whole +with a definite beginning and end--through a feeling apparently that +it was too long a story to be taken in in one view, or if not that, too +complicated from the variety of incident in it. As it is, he has singled +out one section of the whole; many of the other incidents, however, he +brings in as episodes, using the Catalogue of the Ships, for instance, +and other episodes to relieve the uniformity of his narrative. As for +the other epic poets, they treat of one man, or one period; or else of +an action which, although one, has a multiplicity of parts in it. This +last is what the authors of the _Cypria_ and _Little_ _Iliad_ have +done. And the result is that, whereas the _Iliad_ or _Odyssey_ supplies +materials for only one, or at most two tragedies, the _Cypria_ does +that for several, and the _Little_ _Iliad_ for more than eight: for an +_Adjudgment of Arms_, a _Philoctetes_, a _Neoptolemus_, a _Eurypylus_, +a _Ulysses as Beggar_, a _Laconian Women_, a _Fall of Ilium_, and a +_Departure of the Fleet_; as also a _Sinon_, and _Women of Troy_. + + + + +24 + + +II. Besides this, Epic poetry must divide into the same species as +Tragedy; it must be either simple or complex, a story of character +or one of suffering. Its parts, too, with the exception of Song and +Spectacle, must be the same, as it requires Peripeties, Discoveries, and +scenes of suffering just like Tragedy. Lastly, the Thought and Diction +in it must be good in their way. All these elements appear in Homer +first; and he has made due use of them. His two poems are each examples +of construction, the _Iliad_ simple and a story of suffering, the +_Odyssey_ complex (there is Discovery throughout it) and a story of +character. And they are more than this, since in Diction and Thought too +they surpass all other poems. + +There is, however, a difference in the Epic as compared with Tragedy, +(1) in its length, and (2) in its metre. (1) As to its length, the limit +already suggested will suffice: it must be possible for the beginning +and end of the work to be taken in in one view--a condition which will +be fulfilled if the poem be shorter than the old epics, and about +as long as the series of tragedies offered for one hearing. For the +extension of its length epic poetry has a special advantage, of which it +makes large use. In a play one cannot represent an action with a number +of parts going on simultaneously; one is limited to the part on the +stage and connected with the actors. Whereas in epic poetry the narrative +form makes it possible for one to describe a number of simultaneous +incidents; and these, if germane to the subject, increase the body of +the poem. This then is a gain to the Epic, tending to give it grandeur, +and also variety of interest and room for episodes of diverse kinds. +Uniformity of incident by the satiety it soon creates is apt to ruin +tragedies on the stage. (2) As for its metre, the heroic has been +assigned it from experience; were any one to attempt a narrative poem +in some one, or in several, of the other metres, the incongruity of +the thing would be apparent. The heroic; in fact is the gravest and +weightiest of metres--which is what makes it more tolerant than the rest +of strange words and metaphors, that also being a point in which +the narrative form of poetry goes beyond all others. The iambic +and trochaic, on the other hand, are metres of movement, the one +representing that of life and action, the other that of the dance. Still +more unnatural would it appear, it one were to write an epic in a medley +of metres, as Chaeremon did. Hence it is that no one has ever written +a long story in any but heroic verse; nature herself, as we have said, +teaches us to select the metre appropriate to such a story. + +Homer, admirable as he is in every other respect, is especially so in +this, that he alone among epic poets is not unaware of the part to be +played by the poet himself in the poem. The poet should say very little +in propria persona, as he is no imitator when doing that. Whereas +the other poets are perpetually coming forward in person, and say but +little, and that only here and there, as imitators, Homer after a brief +preface brings in forthwith a man, a woman, or some other Character--no +one of them characterless, but each with distinctive characteristics. + +The marvellous is certainly required in Tragedy. The Epic, however, +affords more opening for the improbable, the chief factor in the +marvellous, because in it the agents are not visibly before one. The +scene of the pursuit of Hector would be ridiculous on the stage--the +Greeks halting instead of pursuing him, and Achilles shaking his head to +stop them; but in the poem the absurdity is overlooked. The marvellous, +however, is a cause of pleasure, as is shown by the fact that we all +tell a story with additions, in the belief that we are doing our hearers +a pleasure. + +Homer more than any other has taught the rest of us the art of framing +lies in the right way. I mean the use of paralogism. Whenever, if A is +or happens, a consequent, B, is or happens, men's notion is that, if the +B is, the A also is--but that is a false conclusion. Accordingly, if A +is untrue, but there is something else, B, that on the assumption of its +truth follows as its consequent, the right thing then is to add on the +B. Just because we know the truth of the consequent, we are in our own +minds led on to the erroneous inference of the truth of the antecedent. +Here is an instance, from the Bath-story in the _Odyssey_. + +A likely impossibility is always preferable to an unconvincing +possibility. The story should never be made up of improbable incidents; +there should be nothing of the sort in it. If, however, such incidents +are unavoidable, they should be outside the piece, like the hero's +ignorance in _Oedipus_ of the circumstances of Lams' death; not within +it, like the report of the Pythian games in _Electra_, or the man's +having come to Mysia from Tegea without uttering a word on the way, in +_The Mysians_. So that it is ridiculous to say that one's Plot would +have been spoilt without them, since it is fundamentally wrong to make +up such Plots. If the poet has taken such a Plot, however, and one +sees that he might have put it in a more probable form, he is guilty +of absurdity as well as a fault of art. Even in the _Odyssey_ the +improbabilities in the setting-ashore of Ulysses would be clearly +intolerable in the hands of an inferior poet. As it is, the poet +conceals them, his other excellences veiling their absurdity. Elaborate +Diction, however, is required only in places where there is no action, +and no Character or Thought to be revealed. Where there is Character +or Thought, on the other hand, an over-ornate Diction tends to obscure +them. + + + + +25 + + +As regards Problems and their Solutions, one may see the number and +nature of the assumptions on which they proceed by viewing the matter in +the following way. (1) The poet being an imitator just like the painter +or other maker of likenesses, he must necessarily in all instances +represent things in one or other of three aspects, either as they were +or are, or as they are said or thought to be or to have been, or as they +ought to be. (2) All this he does in language, with an admixture, it +may be, of strange words and metaphors, as also of the various modified +forms of words, since the use of these is conceded in poetry. (3) It is +to be remembered, too, that there is not the same kind of correctness +in poetry as in politics, or indeed any other art. There is, however, +within the limits of poetry itself a possibility of two kinds of error, +the one directly, the other only accidentally connected with the art. If +the poet meant to describe the thing correctly, and failed through +lack of power of expression, his art itself is at fault. But if it was +through his having meant to describe it in some incorrect way (e.g. to +make the horse in movement have both right legs thrown forward) that the +technical error (one in a matter of, say, medicine or some other special +science), or impossibilities of whatever kind they may be, have got into +his description, his error in that case is not in the essentials of the +poetic art. These, therefore, must be the premisses of the Solutions in +answer to the criticisms involved in the Problems. + +I. As to the criticisms relating to the poet's art itself. Any +impossibilities there may be in his descriptions of things are faults. +But from another point of view they are justifiable, if they serve the +end of poetry itself--if (to assume what we have said of that end) they +make the effect of some portion of the work more astounding. The Pursuit +of Hector is an instance in point. If, however, the poetic end might +have been as well or better attained without sacrifice of technical +correctness in such matters, the impossibility is not to be justified, +since the description should be, if it can, entirely free from error. +One may ask, too, whether the error is in a matter directly or only +accidentally connected with the poetic art; since it is a lesser error +in an artist not to know, for instance, that the hind has no horns, than +to produce an unrecognizable picture of one. + +II. If the poet's description be criticized as not true to fact, one may +urge perhaps that the object ought to be as described--an answer like +that of Sophocles, who said that he drew men as they ought to be, and +Euripides as they were. If the description, however, be neither true nor +of the thing as it ought to be, the answer must be then, that it is in +accordance with opinion. The tales about Gods, for instance, may be as +wrong as Xenophanes thinks, neither true nor the better thing to say; +but they are certainly in accordance with opinion. Of other statements +in poetry one may perhaps say, not that they are better than the truth, +but that the fact was so at the time; e.g. the description of the arms: +'their spears stood upright, butt-end upon the ground'; for that was the +usual way of fixing them then, as it is still with the Illyrians. As for +the question whether something said or done in a poem is morally right +or not, in dealing with that one should consider not only the intrinsic +quality of the actual word or deed, but also the person who says or does +it, the person to whom he says or does it, the time, the means, and the +motive of the agent--whether he does it to attain a greater good, or to +avoid a greater evil. + +III. Other criticisms one must meet by considering the language of the +poet: (1) by the assumption of a strange word in a passage like _oureas +men proton_, where by _oureas_ Homer may perhaps mean not mules but +sentinels. And in saying of Dolon, _hos p e toi eidos men heen kakos_, +his meaning may perhaps be, not that Dolon's body was deformed, but that +his face was ugly, as _eneidos_ is the Cretan word for handsome-faced. +So, too, _goroteron de keraie_ may mean not 'mix the wine stronger', as +though for topers, but 'mix it quicker'. (2) Other expressions in Homer +may be explained as metaphorical; e.g. in _halloi men ra theoi te kai +aneres eudon (hapantes) pannux_ as compared with what he tells us at the +same time, _e toi hot hes pedion to Troikon hathreseien, aulon suriggon +*te homadon*_ the word _hapantes_ 'all', is metaphorically put for +'many', since 'all' is a species of 'many '. So also his _oie d' +ammoros_ is metaphorical, the best known standing 'alone'. (3) A change, +as Hippias suggested, in the mode of reading a word will solve the +difficulty in _didomen de oi_, and _to men ou kataputhetai hombro_. +(4) Other difficulties may be solved by another punctuation; e.g. in +Empedocles, _aipsa de thnet ephyonto, ta prin mathon athanata xora te +prin kekreto_. Or (5) by the assumption of an equivocal term, as in +_parocheken de pleo nux_, where _pleo_ in equivocal. Or (6) by an appeal +to the custom of language. Wine-and-water we call 'wine'; and it is +on the same principle that Homer speaks of a _knemis neoteuktou +kassiteroio_, a 'greave of new-wrought tin.' A worker in iron we call a +'brazier'; and it is on the same principle that Ganymede is described +as the 'wine-server' of Zeus, though the Gods do not drink wine. This +latter, however, may be an instance of metaphor. But whenever also a +word seems to imply some contradiction, it is necessary to reflect how +many ways there may be of understanding it in the passage in question; +e.g. in Homer's _te r' hesxeto xalkeon hegxos_ one should consider the +possible senses of 'was stopped there'--whether by taking it in this +sense or in that one will best avoid the fault of which Glaucon speaks: +'They start with some improbable presumption; and having so decreed it +themselves, proceed to draw inferences, and censure the poet as though +he had actually said whatever they happen to believe, if his statement +conflicts with their own notion of things.' This is how Homer's silence +about Icarius has been treated. Starting with, the notion of his having +been a Lacedaemonian, the critics think it strange for Telemachus not to +have met him when he went to Lacedaemon. Whereas the fact may have been +as the Cephallenians say, that the wife of Ulysses was of a Cephallenian +family, and that her father's name was Icadius, not Icarius. So that it +is probably a mistake of the critics that has given rise to the Problem. + +Speaking generally, one has to justify (1) the Impossible by reference +to the requirements of poetry, or to the better, or to opinion. For +the purposes of poetry a convincing impossibility is preferable to +an unconvincing possibility; and if men such as Zeuxis depicted be +impossible, the answer is that it is better they should be like that, as +the artist ought to improve on his model. (2) The Improbable one has +to justify either by showing it to be in accordance with opinion, or by +urging that at times it is not improbable; for there is a probability of +things happening also against probability. (3) The contradictions found +in the poet's language one should first test as one does an opponent's +confutation in a dialectical argument, so as to see whether he means +the same thing, in the same relation, and in the same sense, before +admitting that he has contradicted either something he has said himself +or what a man of sound sense assumes as true. But there is no possible +apology for improbability of Plot or depravity of character, when they +are not necessary and no use is made of them, like the improbability +in the appearance of Aegeus in _Medea_ and the baseness of Menelaus in +_Orestes_. + +The objections, then, of critics start with faults of five kinds: +the allegation is always that something in either (1) impossible, (2) +improbable, (3) corrupting, (4) contradictory, or (5) against technical +correctness. The answers to these objections must be sought under one or +other of the above-mentioned heads, which are twelve in number. + + + + +26 + + +The question may be raised whether the epic or the tragic is the higher +form of imitation. It may be argued that, if the less vulgar is the +higher, and the less vulgar is always that which addresses the better +public, an art addressing any and every one is of a very vulgar order. +It is a belief that their public cannot see the meaning, unless they +add something themselves, that causes the perpetual movements of +the performers--bad flute-players, for instance, rolling about, if +quoit-throwing is to be represented, and pulling at the conductor, if +Scylla is the subject of the piece. Tragedy, then, is said to be an art +of this order--to be in fact just what the later actors were in the eyes +of their predecessors; for Myrmiscus used to call Callippides 'the ape', +because he thought he so overacted his parts; and a similar view was +taken of Pindarus also. All Tragedy, however, is said to stand to the +Epic as the newer to the older school of actors. The one, accordingly, +is said to address a cultivated 'audience, which does not need the +accompaniment of gesture; the other, an uncultivated one. If, therefore, +Tragedy is a vulgar art, it must clearly be lower than the Epic. + +The answer to this is twofold. In the first place, one may urge (1) that +the censure does not touch the art of the dramatic poet, but only that +of his interpreter; for it is quite possible to overdo the gesturing +even in an epic recital, as did Sosistratus, and in a singing contest, +as did Mnasitheus of Opus. (2) That one should not condemn all movement, +unless one means to condemn even the dance, but only that of ignoble +people--which is the point of the criticism passed on Callippides and +in the present day on others, that their women are not like gentlewomen. +(3) That Tragedy may produce its effect even without movement or action +in just the same way as Epic poetry; for from the mere reading of a +play its quality may be seen. So that, if it be superior in all other +respects, this element of inferiority is not a necessary part of it. + +In the second place, one must remember (1) that Tragedy has everything +that the Epic has (even the epic metre being admissible), together with +a not inconsiderable addition in the shape of the Music (a very real +factor in the pleasure of the drama) and the Spectacle. (2) That its +reality of presentation is felt in the play as read, as well as in the +play as acted. (3) That the tragic imitation requires less space for +the attainment of its end; which is a great advantage, since the more +concentrated effect is more pleasurable than one with a large admixture +of time to dilute it--consider the _Oedipus_ of Sophocles, for instance, +and the effect of expanding it into the number of lines of the _Iliad_. +(4) That there is less unity in the imitation of the epic poets, as +is proved by the fact that any one work of theirs supplies matter for +several tragedies; the result being that, if they take what is really +a single story, it seems curt when briefly told, and thin and waterish +when on the scale of length usual with their verse. In saying that +there is less unity in an epic, I mean an epic made up of a plurality +of actions, in the same way as the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ have many such +parts, each one of them in itself of some magnitude; yet the structure +of the two Homeric poems is as perfect as can be, and the action in them +is as nearly as possible one action. If, then, Tragedy is superior in +these respects, and also besides these, in its poetic effect (since the +two forms of poetry should give us, not any or every pleasure, but the +very special kind we have mentioned), it is clear that, as attaining the +poetic effect better than the Epic, it will be the higher form of art. + +So much for Tragedy and Epic poetry--for these two arts in general and +their species; the number and nature of their constituent parts; the +causes of success and failure in them; the Objections of the critics, +and the Solutions in answer to them. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetics, by Aristotle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETICS *** + +***** This file should be named 6763.txt or 6763.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/7/6/6763/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Poetics + +Author: Aristotle + +Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6763] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on January 24, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE POETICS *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by Eric Eldred. + + + +ARISTOTLE +ON THE ART OF POETRY + + + +TRANSLATED BY +INGRAM BYWATER + + +WITH A PREFACE BY +GILBERT MURRAY + + + +OXFORD AT THE CLARENDON PRESS +FIRST PUBLISHED 1920 +REPRINTED 1925, 1928, 1932, 1938, 1945, 1947 +1951, 1954, 1959. 1962 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN + + + + +PREFACE + + +In the tenth book of the _Republic_, when Plato has completed his final +burning denunciation of Poetry, the false Siren, the imitator of +things which themselves are shadows, the ally of all that is low and +weak in the soul against that which is high and strong, who makes us +feed the things we ought to starve and serve the things we ought to +rule, he ends with a touch of compunction: 'We will give her +champions, not poets themselves but poet-lovers, an opportunity to +make her defence in plain prose and show that she is not only +sweet--as we well know--but also helpful to society and the life of +man, and we will listen in a kindly spirit. For we shall be gainers, I +take it, if this can be proved.' Aristotle certainly knew the passage, +and it looks as if his treatise on poetry was an answer to Plato's +challenge. + +Few of the great works of ancient Greek literature are easy reading. +They nearly all need study and comment, and at times help from a good +teacher, before they yield up their secret. And the _Poetics_ cannot +be accounted an exception. For one thing the treatise is fragmentary. +It originally consisted of two books, one dealing with Tragedy and +Epic, the other with Comedy and other subjects. We possess only the +first. For another, even the book we have seems to be unrevised and +unfinished. The style, though luminous, vivid, and in its broader +division systematic, is not that of a book intended for publication. +Like most of Aristotle's extant writing, it suggests the MS. of an +experienced lecturer, full of jottings and adscripts, with occasional +phrases written carefully out, but never revised as a whole for the +general reader. Even to accomplished scholars the meaning is often +obscure, as may be seen by a comparison of the three editions recently +published in England, all the work of savants of the first eminence, +[1] or, still more strikingly, by a study of the long series of +misunderstandings and overstatements and corrections which form the +history of the _Poetics_ since the Renaissance. + +[1] Prof. Butcher, 1895 and 1898; Prof. Bywater, 1909; and Prof. +Margoliouth, 1911. + + +But it is of another cause of misunderstanding that I wish principally +to speak in this preface. The great edition from which the present +translation is taken was the fruit of prolonged study by one of the +greatest Aristotelians of the nineteenth century, and is itself a +classic among works of scholarship. In the hands of a student who +knows even a little Greek, the translation, backed by the commentary, +may lead deep into the mind of Aristotle. But when the translation is +used, as it doubtless will be, by readers who are quite without the +clue provided by a knowledge of the general habits of the Greek +language, there must arise a number of new difficulties or +misconceptions. + +To understand a great foreign book by means of a translation is +possible enough where the two languages concerned operate with a +common stock of ideas, and belong to the same period of civilization. +But between ancient Greece and modern England there yawn immense +gulfs of human history; the establishment and the partial failure of +a common European religion, the barbarian invasions, the feudal +system, the regrouping of modern Europe, the age of mechanical +invention, and the industrial revolution. In an average page of French +or German philosophy nearly all the nouns can be translated directly +into exact equivalents in English; but in Greek that is not so. +Scarcely one in ten of the nouns on the first few pages of the +_Poetics_ has an exact English equivalent. Every proposition has to be +reduced to its lowest terms of thought and then re-built. This is a +difficulty which no translation can quite deal with; it must be left +to a teacher who knows Greek. And there is a kindred difficulty which +flows from it. Where words can be translated into equivalent words, +the style of an original can be closely followed; but no translation +which aims at being written in normal English can reproduce the style +of Aristotle. I have sometimes played with the idea that a ruthlessly +literal translation, helped out by bold punctuation, might be the +best. For instance, premising that the words _poesis_, _poetes_ mean +originally 'making' and 'maker', one might translate the first +paragraph of the _Poetics_ thus:-- + +MAKING: kinds of making: function of each, and how the Myths ought to +be put together if the Making is to go right. + +Number of parts: nature of parts: rest of same inquiry. + +Begin in order of nature from first principles. + +Epos-making, tragedy-making (also comedy), dithyramb-making (and most +fluting and harping), taken as a whole, are really not Makings but +Imitations. They differ in three points; they imitate (a) different +objects, (b) by different means, (c) differently (i.e. different +manner). + +Some artists imitate (i.e. depict) by shapes and colours. (Obs. +sometimes by art, sometimes by habit.) Some by voice. Similarly the +above arts all imitate by rhythm, language, and tune, and these either +(1) separate or (2) mixed. + +Rhythm and tune alone, harping, fluting, and other arts with same +effect--e.g. panpipes. + +Rhythm without tune: dancing. (Dancers imitate characters, emotions, +and experiences by means of rhythms expressed in form.) + +Language alone (whether prose or verse, and one form of verse or +many): this art has no name up to the present (i.e. there is no name +to cover mimes and dialogues and any similar imitation made in +iambics, elegiacs, &c. Commonly people attach the 'making' to the +metre and say 'elegiac-makers', 'hexameter-makers,' giving them a +common class-name by their metre, as if it was not their imitation +that makes them 'makers'). + + +Such an experiment would doubtless be a little absurd, but it would +give an English reader some help in understanding both Aristotle's +style and his meaning. + +For example, there i.e.lightenment in the literal phrase, 'how the +myths ought to be put together.' The higher Greek poetry did not make +up fictitious plots; its business was to express the heroic saga, the +myths. Again, the literal translation of _poetes_, poet, as 'maker', +helps to explain a term that otherwise seems a puzzle in the +_Poetics_. If we wonder why Aristotle, and Plato before him, should +lay such stress on the theory that art is imitation, it is a help to +realize that common language called it 'making', and it was clearly +not 'making' in the ordinary sense. The poet who was 'maker' of a +Fall of Troy clearly did not make the real Fall of Troy. He made an +imitation Fall of Troy. An artist who 'painted Pericles' really 'made +an imitation Pericles by means of shapes and colours'. Hence we get +started upon a theory of art which, whether finally satisfactory or +not, is of immense importance, and are saved from the error of +complaining that Aristotle did not understand the 'creative power' of +art. + +As a rule, no doubt, the difficulty, even though merely verbal, lies +beyond the reach of so simple a tool as literal translation. To say +that tragedy 'imitate.g.od men' while comedy 'imitates bad men' +strikes a modern reader as almost meaningless. The truth is that +neither 'good' nor 'bad' is an exact equivalent of the Greek. It would +be nearer perhaps to say that, relatively speaking, you look up to the +characters of tragedy, and down upon those of comedy. High or low, +serious or trivial, many other pairs of words would have to be called +in, in order to cover the wide range of the common Greek words. And +the point is important, because we have to consider whether in Chapter +VI Aristotle really lays it down that tragedy, so far from being the +story of un-happiness that we think it, is properly an imitation of +_eudaimonia_--a word often translated 'happiness', but meaning +something more like 'high life' or 'blessedness'. [1] + +[1] See Margoliouth, p. 121. By water, with most editors, emends the +text. + +Another difficult word which constantly recurs in the _Poetics_ is +_prattein_ or _praxis_, generally translated 'to act' or 'action'. But +_prattein_, like our 'do', also has an intransitive meaning 'to fare' +either well or ill; and Professor Margoliouth has pointed out that it +seems more true to say that tragedy shows how men 'fare' than how they +'act'. It shows thei.e.periences or fortunes rather than merely their +deeds. But one must not draw the line too bluntly. I should doubt +whether a classical Greek writer was ordinarily conscious of the +distinction between the two meanings. Certainly it i.e.sier to regard +happiness as a way of faring than as a form of action. Yet Aristotle +can use the passive of _prattein_ for things 'done' or 'gone through' +(e.g. 52a, 22, 29: 55a, 25). + +The fact is that much misunderstanding is often caused by our modern +attempts to limit too strictly the meaning of a Greek word. Greek was +very much a live language, and a language still unconscious of +grammar, not, like ours, dominated by definitions and trained upon +dictionaries. An instance is provided by Aristotle's famous saying +that the typical tragic hero is one who falls from high state or fame, +not through vice or depravity, but by some great _hamartia_. +_Hamartia_ means originally a 'bad shot' or 'error', but is currently +used for 'offence' or 'sin'. Aristotle clearly means that the typical +hero is a great man with 'something wrong' in his life or character; +but I think it is a mistake of method to argue whether he means 'an +intellectual error' or 'a moral flaw'. The word is not so precise. + +Similarly, when Aristotle says that a deed of strife or disaster is +more tragic when it occurs 'amid affections' or 'among people who love +each other', no doubt the phrase, as Aristotle's own examples show, +would primarily suggest to a Greek feuds between near relations. Yet +some of the meaning is lost if one translates simply 'within the +family'. + +There is another series of obscurities or confusions in the _Poetics_ +which, unless I am mistaken, arises from the fact that Aristotle was +writing at a time when the great age of Greek tragedy was long past, +and was using language formed in previous generations. The words and +phrases remained in the tradition, but the forms of art and activity +which they denoted had sometimes changed in the interval. If we date +the _Poetics_ about the year 330 B.C., as seems probable, that is more +than two hundred years after the first tragedy of Thespis was produced +in Athens, and more than seventy after the death of the last great +masters of the tragic stage. When we remember that a training in music +and poetry formed a prominent part of the education of every wellborn +Athenian, we cannot be surprised at finding in Aristotle, and to a +less extent in Plato, considerable traces of a tradition of technical +language and even of aesthetic theory. + +It is doubtless one of Aristotle's great services that he conceived so +clearly the truth that literature is a thing that grows and has a +history. But no writer, certainly no ancient writer, is always +vigilant. Sometimes Aristotle analyses his terms, but very often he +takes them for granted; and in the latter case, I think, he is +sometimes deceived by them. Thus there seem to be cases where he has +been affected in his conceptions of fifth-century tragedy by the +practice of his own day, when the only living form of drama was the +New Comedy. + +For example, as we have noticed above, true Tragedy had always taken +its material from the sacred myths, or heroic sagas, which to the +classical Greek constituted history. But the New Comedy was in the +habit of inventing its plots. Consequently Aristotle falls into using +the word _mythos_ practically in the sense of 'plot', and writing +otherwise in a way that is unsuited to the tragedy of the fifth +century. He says that tragedy adheres to 'the historical names' for an +aesthetic reason, because what has happened is obviously possible and +therefore convincing. The real reason was that the drama and the myth +were simply two different expressions of the same religious kernel (p. +44). Again, he says of the Chorus (p. 65) that it should be an +integral part of the play, which is true; but he also says that it' +should be regarded as one of the actors', which shows to what an +extent the Chorus in his day was dead and its technique forgotten. He +had lost the sense of what the Chorus was in the hands of the great +masters, say in the Bacchae or the Eumenides. He mistakes, again, the +use of that epiphany of a God which is frequent at the end of the +single plays of Euripides, and which seems to have been equally so at +the end of the trilogies of Aeschylus. Having lost the living +tradition, he sees neither the ritual origin nor the dramatic value of +these divine epiphanies. He thinks of the convenient gods and +abstractions who sometimes spoke the prologues of the New Comedy, and +imagines that the God appears in order to unravel the plot. As a +matter of fact, in one play which he often quotes, the _Iphigenia +Taurica_, the plot is actually distorted at the very end in order to +give an opportunity for the epiphany.[1] + +[1] See my _Euripides and his Age_, pp. 221-45. + +One can see the effect of the tradition also in his treatment of the +terms Anagnorisis and Peripeteia, which Professor Bywater translates +as 'Discovery and Peripety' and Professor Butcher as 'Recognition and +Reversal of Fortune'. Aristotle assumes that these two elements are +normally present in any tragedy, except those which he calls 'simple'; +we may say, roughly, in any tragedy that really has a plot. This +strikes a modern reader as a very arbitrary assumption. Reversals of +Fortune of some sort are perhaps usual in any varied plot, but surely +not Recognitions? The clue to the puzzle lies, it can scarcely be +doubted, in the historical origin of tragedy. Tragedy, according to +Greek tradition, is originally the ritual play of Dionysus, performed +at his festival, and representing, as Herodotus tells us, the +'sufferings' or 'passion' of that God. We are never directly told what +these 'sufferings' were which were so represented; but Herodotus +remarks that he found in Egypt a ritual that was 'in almost all points +the same'. [1] This was the well-known ritual of Osiris, in which the +god was torn in pieces, lamented, searched for, discovered or +recognized, and the mourning by a sudden Reversal turned into joy. In +any tragedy which still retained the stamp of its Dionysiac origin, +this Discovery and Peripety might normally be expected to occur, and +to occur together. I have tried to show elsewhere how many of our +extant tragedies do, as a matter of fact, show the marks of this +ritual.[2] + +[1] Cf. Hdt. ii. 48; cf. 42,144. The name of Dionysus must not be +openly mentioned in connexion with mourning (ib. 61, 132, 86). This +may help to explain the transference of the tragic shows to other +heroes. + +[2] In Miss Harrison's _Themis_, pp. 341-63. + +I hope it is not rash to surmise that the much-debated word +__katharsis__, 'purification' or 'purgation', may have come into +Aristotle's mouth from the same source. It has all the appearance of +being an old word which is accepted and re-interpreted by Aristotle +rather than a word freely chosen by him to denote the exact phenomenon +he wishes to describe. At any rate the Dionysus ritual itself was a +_katharmos_ or _katharsis_--a purification of the community from the +taints and poisons of the past year, the old contagion of sin and +death. And the words of Aristotle's definition of tragedy in Chapter +VI might have been used in the days of Thespis in a much cruder and +less metaphorical sense. According to primitive ideas, the mimic +representation on the stage of 'incidents arousing pity and fear' did +act as a _katharsis_ of such 'passions' or 'sufferings' in real life. +(For the word _pathemata_ means 'sufferings' as well as 'passions'.) +It is worth remembering that in the year 361 B.C., during Aristotle's +lifetime, Greek tragedies were introduced into Rome, not on artistic +but on superstitious grounds, as a _katharmos_ against a pestilence +(Livy vii. 2). One cannot but suspect that in his account of the +purpose of tragedy Aristotle may be using an old traditional formula, +and consciously or unconsciously investing it with a new meaning, much +as he has done with the word _mythos_. + +Apart from these historical causes of misunderstanding, a good teacher +who uses this book with a class will hardly fail to point out numerous +points on which two equally good Greek scholars may well differ in the +mere interpretation of the words. What, for instance, are the 'two +natural causes' in Chapter IV which have given birth to Poetry? Are +they, as our translator takes them, (1) that man is imitative, and (2) +that people delight in imitations? Or are they (1) that man is +imitative and people delight in imitations, and (2) the instinct for +rhythm, as Professor Butcher prefers? Is it a 'creature' a thousand +miles long, or a 'picture' a thousand miles long which raises some +trouble in Chapter VII? The word _zoon_ means equally 'picture' and +'animal'. Did the older poets make their characters speak like +'statesmen', _politikoi_, or merely like ordinary citizens, _politai_, +while the moderns made theirs like 'professors of rhetoric'? (Chapter +VI, p. 38; cf. Margoliouth's note and glossary). + +It may seem as if the large uncertainties which we have indicated +detract in a ruinous manner from the value of the _Poetics_ to us as a +work of criticism. Certainly if any young writer took this book as a +manual of rules by which to 'commence poet', he would find himself +embarrassed. But, if the book is properly read, not as a dogmatic +text-book but as a first attempt, made by a man of astounding genius, +to build up in the region of creative art a rational order like that +which he established in logic, rhetoric, ethics, politics, physics, +psychology, and almost every department of knowledge that existed in +his day, then the uncertainties become rather a help than a +discouragement. The.g.ve us occasion to think and use our +imagination. They make us, to the best of our powers, try really to +follow and criticize closely the bold gropings of an extraordinary +thinker; and it is in this process, and not in any mere collection of +dogmatic results, that we shall find the true value and beauty of the +_Poetics_. + +The book is of permanent value as a mere intellectual achievement; as +a store of information about Greek literature; and as an original or +first-hand statement of what we may call the classical view of +artistic criticism. It does not regard poetry as a matter of +unanalysed inspiration; it makes no concession to personal whims or +fashion or _ennui_. It tries by rational methods to find out what is +good in art and what makes it good, accepting the belief that there is +just as truly a good way, and many bad ways, in poetry as in morals or +in playing billiards. This is no place to try to sum up its main +conclusions. But it is characteristic of the classical view that +Aristotle lays his greatest stress, first, on the need for Unity in +the work of art, the need that each part should subserve the whole, +while irrelevancies, however brilliant in themselves, should be cast +away; and next, on the demand that great art must have for its subject +the great way of living. These judgements have often been +misunderstood, but the truth in them is profound and goes near to the +heart of things. + +Characteristic, too, is the observation that different kinds of art +grow and develop, but not indefinitely; they develop until they +'attain their natural form'; also the rule that each form of art should +produce 'not every sort of pleasure but its proper pleasure'; and the +sober language in which Aristotle, instead of speaking about the +sequence of events in a tragedy being 'inevitable', as we bombastic +moderns do, merely recommends that they should be 'either necessary or +probable' and 'appear to happen because of one another'. + +Conceptions and attitudes of mind such as these constitute what we may +call the classical faith in matters of art and poetry; a faith which +is never perhaps fully accepted in any age, yet, unlike others, is +never forgotten but lives by being constantly criticized, re-asserted, +and rebelled against. For the fashions of the ages vary in this +direction and that, but they vary for the most part from a central +road which was struck out by the imagination of Greece. + +G. M + + + + + +ARISTOTLE ON THE ART OF POETRY + + + +1 + + +Our subject being Poetry, I propose to speak not only of the art in +general but also of its species and their respective capacities; of +the structure of plot required for a good poem; of the number and +nature of the constituent parts of a poem; and likewise of any other +matters in the same line of inquiry. Let us follow the natural order +and begin with the primary facts. + +Epic poetry and Tragedy, as also Comedy, Dithyrambic poetry, and most +flute-playing and lyre-playing, are all, viewed as a whole, modes of +imitation. But at the same time they differ from one another in three +ways, either by a difference of kind in their means, or by differences +in the objects, or in the manner of their imitations. + +I. Just as form and colour are used as means by some, who (whether by +art or constant practice) imitate and portray many things by their +aid, and the voice is used by others; so also in the above-mentioned +group of arts, the means with them as a whole are rhythm, language, +and harmony--used, however, either singly or in certain combinations. +A combination of rhythm and harmony alone is the means in +flute-playing and lyre-playing, and any other arts there may be of the +same description, e.g. imitative piping. Rhythm alone, without +harmony, is the means in the dancer's imitations; for even he, by the +rhythms of his attitudes, may represent men's characters, as well as +what they do and suffer. There is further an art which imitates by +language alone, without harmony, in prose or in verse, and if in +verse, either in some one or in a plurality of metres. This form of +imitation is to this day without a name. We have no common name for a +mime of Sophron or Xenarchus and a Socratic Conversation; and we +should still be without one even if the imitation in the two instances +were in trimeters or elegiacs or some other kind of verse--though it +is the way with people to tack on 'poet' to the name of a metre, and +talk of elegiac-poets and epic-poets, thinking that they call them +poets not by reason of the imitative nature of their work, but +indiscriminately by reason of the metre they write in. Even if a +theory of medicine or physical philosophy be put forth in a metrical +form, it is usual to describe the writer in this way; Homer and +Empedocles, however, have really nothing in common apart from their +metre; so that, if the one is to be called a poet, the other should be +termed a physicist rather than a poet. We should be in the same +position also, if the imitation in these instances were in all the +metres, like the _Centaur_ (a rhapsody in a medley of all metres) of +Chaeremon; and Chaeremon one has to recognize as a poet. So much, +then, as to these arts. There are, lastly, certain other arts, which +combine all the means enumerated, rhythm, melody, and verse, e.g. +Dithyrambic and Nomic poetry, Tragedy and Comedy; with this +difference, however, that the three kinds of means are in some of them +all employed together, and in others brought in separately, one after +the other. These elements of difference in the above arts I term the +means of their imitation. + + + + +2 + + +II. The objects the imitator represents are actions, with agents who +are necessarily either good men or bad--the diversities of human +character being nearly always derivative from this primary +distinction, since the line between virtue and vice is one dividing +the whole of mankind. It follows, therefore, that the agents +represented must be either above our own level of goodness, or beneath +it, or just such as we are in the same way as, with the painters, the +personages of Polygnotus are better than we are, those of Pauson +worse, and those of Dionysius just like ourselves. It is clear that +each of the above-mentioned arts will admit of these differences, and +that it will become a separate art by representing objects with this +point of difference. Even in dancing, flute-playing, and lyre-playing +such diversities are possible; and they are also possible in the +nameless art that uses language, prose or verse without harmony, as +its means; Homer's personages, for instance, are better than we are; +Cleophon's are on our own level; and those of Hegemon of Thasos, the +first writer of parodies, and Nicochares, the author of the _Diliad_, +are beneath it. The same is true of the Dithyramb and the Nome: the +personages may be presented in them with the difference exemplified in +the ... of ... and Argas, and in the Cyclopses of Timotheus and +Philoxenus. This difference it is that distinguishes Tragedy and +Comedy also; the one would make its personages worse, and the other +better, than the men of the present day. + + + +3 + + +III. A third difference in these arts is in the manner in which each +kind of object is represented. Given both the same means and the same +kind of object for imitation, one may either (1) speak at one moment +in narrative and at another in an assumed character, as Homer does; or +(2) one may remain the same throughout, without any such change; or +(3) the imitators may represent the whole story dramatically, as +though they were actually doing the things described. + +As we said at the beginning, therefore, the differences in the +imitation of these arts come under three heads, their means, their +objects, and their manner. + +So that as an imitator Sophocles will be on one side akin to Homer, +both portraying good men; and on another to Aristophanes, since both +present their personages as acting and doing. This in fact, according +to some, is the reason for plays being termed dramas, because in a +play the personages act the story. Hence too both Tragedy and Comedy +are claimed by the Dorians as their discoveries; Comedy by the +Megarians--by those in Greece as having arisen when Megara became a +democracy, and by the Sicilian Megarians on the ground that the poet +Epicharmus was of their country, and a good deal earlier than +Chionides and Magnes; even Tragedy also is claimed by certain of the +Peloponnesian Dorians. In support of this claim they point to the +words 'comedy' and 'drama'. Their word for the outlying hamlets, they +say, is comae, whereas Athenians call them demes--thus assuming that +comedians got the name not from their _comoe_ or revels, but from +their strolling from hamlet to hamlet, lack of appreciation keeping +them out of the city. Their word also for 'to act', they say, is +_dran_, whereas Athenians use _prattein_. + +So much, then, as to the number and nature of the points of difference +in the imitation of these arts. + + + + +4 + + +It is clear that the general origin of poetry was due to two causes, +each of them part of human nature. Imitation is natural to man from +childhood, one of his advantages over the lower animals being this, +that he is the most imitative creature in the world, and learns at +first by imitation. And it is also natural for all to delight in works +of imitation. The truth of this second point is shown by experience: +though the objects themselves may be painful to see, we delight to +view the most realistic representations of them in art, the forms for +example of the lowest animals and of dead bodies. The explanation is +to be found in a further fact: to be learning something is the +greatest of pleasures not only to the philosopher but also to the +rest of mankind, however small their capacity for it; the reason of +the delight in seeing the picture is that one is at the same time +learning--gathering the meaning of things, e.g. that the man there is +so-and-so; for if one has not seen the thing before, one's pleasure +will not be in the picture as an imitation of it, but will be due to +the execution or colouring or some similar cause. Imitation, then, +being natural to us--as also the sense of harmony and rhythm, the +metres being obviously species of rhythms--it was through their +original aptitude, and by a series of improvements for the most part +gradual on their first efforts, that they created poetry out of their +improvisations. + +Poetry, however, soon broke up into two kinds according to the +differences of character in the individual poets; for the graver among +them would represent noble actions, and those of noble personages; and +the meaner sort the actions of the ignoble. The latter class produced +invectives at first, just as others did hymns and panegyrics. We know +of no such poem by any of the pre-Homeric poets, though there were +probably many such writers among them; instances, however, may be +found from Homer downwards, e.g. his _Margites_, and the similar +poems of others. In this poetry of invective its natural fitness +brought an iambic metre into use; hence our present term 'iambic', +because it was the metre of their 'iambs' or invectives against one +another. The result was that the old poets became some of them writers +of heroic and others of iambic verse. Homer's position, however, is +peculiar: just as he was in the serious style the poet of poets, +standing alone not only through the literary excellence, but also +through the dramatic character of his imitations, so too he was the +first to outline for us the general forms of Comedy by producing not a +dramatic invective, but a dramatic picture of the Ridiculous; his +_Margites_ in fact stands in the same relation to our comedies as the +_Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ to our tragedies. As soon, however, as Tragedy +and Comedy appeared in the field, those naturally drawn to the one +line of poetry became writers of comedies instead of iambs, and those +naturally drawn to the other, writers of tragedies instead of epics, +because these new modes of art were grander and of more esteem than +the old. + +If it be asked whether Tragedy is now all that it need be in its +formative elements, to consider that, and decide it theoretically and +in relation to the theatres, is a matter for another inquiry. + +It certainly began in improvisations--as did also Comedy; the one +originating with the authors of the Dithyramb, the other with those of +the phallic songs, which still survive as institutions in many of our +cities. And its advance after that was little by little, through their +improving on whatever they had before them at each stage. It was in +fact only after a long series of changes that the movement of Tragedy +stopped on its attaining to its natural form. (1) The number of actors +was first increased to two by Aeschylus, who curtailed the business of +the Chorus, and made the dialogue, or spoken portion, take the leading +part in the play. (2) A third actor and scenery were due to Sophocles. +(3) Tragedy acquired also its magnitude. Discarding short stories and +a ludicrous diction, through its passing out of its satyric stage, it +assumed, though only at a late point in its progress, a tone of +dignity; and its metre changed then from trochaic to iambic. The +reason for their original use of the trochaic tetrameter was that +their poetry was satyric and more connected with dancing than it now +is. As soon, however, as a spoken part came in, nature herself found +the appropriate metre. The iambic, we know, is the most speakable of +metres, as is shown by the fact that we very often fall into it in +conversation, whereas we rarely talk hexameters, and only when we +depart from the speaking tone of voice. (4) Another change was a +plurality of episodes or acts. As for the remaining matters, the +superadded embellishments and the account of their introduction, these +must be taken as said, as it would probably be a long piece of work to +go through the details. + + + + +5 + + +As for Comedy, it is (as has been observed) an imitation of men worse +than the average; worse, however, not as regards any and every sort of +fault, but only as regards one particular kind, the Ridiculous, which +is a species of the Ugly. The Ridiculous may be defined as a mistake +or deformity not productive of pain or harm to others; the mask, for +instance, that excites laughter, is something ugly and distorted +without causing pain. + +Though the successive changes in Tragedy and their authors are not +unknown, we cannot say the same of Comedy; its early stages passed +unnoticed, because it was not as yet taken up in a serious way. It was +only at a late point in its progress that a chorus of comedians was +officially granted by the archon; they used to be mere volunteers. It +had also already certain definite forms at the time when the record of +those termed comic poets begins. Who it was who supplied it with +masks, or prologues, or a plurality of actors and the like, has +remained unknown. The invented Fable, or Plot, however, originated in +Sicily, with Epicharmus and Phormis; of Athenian poets Crates was the +first to drop the Comedy of invective and frame stories of a general +and non-personal nature, in other words, Fables or Plots. + +Epic poetry, then, has been seen to agree with Tragedy to thi.e.tent, +that of being an imitation of serious subjects in a grand kind of +verse. It differs from it, however, (1) in that it is in one kind of +verse and in narrative form; and (2) in its length--which is due to +its action having no fixed limit of time, whereas Tragedy endeavours +to keep as far as possible within a single circuit of the sun, or +something near that. This, I say, is another point of difference +between them, though at first the practice in this respect was just +the same in tragedies as i.e.ic poems. They differ also (3) in their +constituents, some being common to both and others peculiar to +Tragedy--hence a judge of good and bad in Tragedy is a judge of that +i.e.ic poetry also. All the parts of an epic are included in Tragedy; +but those of Tragedy are not all of them to be found in the Epic. + + + + +6 + + +Reserving hexameter poetry and Comedy for consideration hereafter, let +us proceed now to the discussion of Tragedy; before doing so, however, +we must gather up the definition resulting from what has been said. A +tragedy, then, is the imitation of an action that is serious and also, +as having magnitude, complete in itself; in language with pleasurable +accessories, each kind brought in separately in the parts of the work; +in a dramatic, not in a narrative form; with incidents arousing pity +and fear, wherewith to accomplish its catharsis of such emotions. Here +by 'language with pleasurable accessories' I mean that with rhythm and +harmony or song superadded; and by 'the kinds separately' I mean that +some portions are worked out with verse only, and others in turn with +song. + +I. As they act the stories, it follows that in the first place the +Spectacle (or stage-appearance of the actors) must be some part of the +whole; and in the second Melody and Diction, these two being the means +of their imitation. Here by 'Diction' I mean merely this, the +composition of the verses; and by 'Melody', what is too completely +understood to require explanation. But further: the subject +represented also is an action; and the action involves agents, who +must necessarily have their distinctive qualities both of character +and thought, since it is from these that we ascribe certain qualities +to their actions. There are in the natural order of things, therefore, +two causes, Character and Thought, of their actions, and consequently +of their success or failure in their lives. Now the action (that which +was done) is represented in the play by the Fable or Plot. The Fable, +in our present sense of the term, is simply this, the combination of +the incidents, or things done in the story; whereas Character is what +makes us ascribe certain moral qualities to the agents; and Thought is +shown in all they say when proving a particular point or, it may be, +enunciating a general truth. There are six parts consequently of every +tragedy, as a whole, that is, of such or such quality, viz. a Fable or +Plot, Characters, Diction, Thought, Spectacle and Melody; two of them +arising from the means, one from the manner, and three from the +objects of the dramatic imitation; and there is nothing else besides +these six. Of these, its formative elements, then, not a few of the +dramatists have made due use, as every play, one may say, admits of +Spectacle, Character, Fable, Diction, Melody, and Thought. + +II. The most important of the six is the combination of the incidents +of the story. + +Tragedy i.e.sentially an imitation not of persons but of action and +life, of happiness and misery. All human happiness or misery takes the +form of action; the end for which we live is a certain kind of +activity, not a quality. Characte.g.ves us qualities, but it is in +our actions--what we do--that we are happy or the reverse. In a play +accordingly they do not act in order to portray the Characters; they +include the Characters for the sake of the action. So that it is the +action in it, i.e. its Fable or Plot, that is the end and purpose of +the tragedy; and the end i.e.erywhere the chief thing. Besides this, +a tragedy is impossible without action, but there may be one without +Character. The tragedies of most of the moderns are characterless--a +defect common among poets of all kinds, and with its counterpart in +painting in Zeuxis as compared with Polygnotus; for whereas the latter +is strong in character, the work of Zeuxis is devoid of it. And again: +one may string together a series of characteristic speeches of the +utmost finish as regards Diction and Thought, and yet fail to produce +the true tragi.e.fect; but one will have much better success with a +tragedy which, however inferior in these respects, has a Plot, a +combination of incidents, in it. And again: the most powerful elements +of attraction in Tragedy, the Peripeties and Discoveries, are parts of +the Plot. A further proof is in the fact that beginners succeed +earlier with the Diction and Characters than with the construction of +a story; and the same may be said of nearly all the early dramatists. +We maintain, therefore, that the first essential, the life and soul, +so to speak, of Tragedy is the Plot; and that the Characters come +second--compare the parallel in painting, where the most beautiful +colours laid on without order will not give one the same pleasure as a +simple black-and-white sketch of a portrait. We maintain that Tragedy +is primarily an imitation of action, and that it is mainly for the +sake of the action that it imitates the personal agents. Third comes +the element of Thought, i.e. the power of saying whatever can be said, +or what is appropriate to the occasion. This is what, in the speeches +in Tragedy, falls under the arts of Politics and Rhetoric; for the +older poets make their personages discourse like statesmen, and the +moderns like rhetoricians. One must not confuse it with Character. +Character in a play is that which reveals the moral purpose of the +agents, i.e. the sort of thing they seek or avoid, where that is not +obvious--hence there is no room for Character in a speech on a purely +indifferent subject. Thought, on the other hand, is shown in all they +say when proving or disproving some particular point, or enunciating +some universal proposition. Fourth among the literary elements is the +Diction of the personages, i.e. as before explained, the expression of +their thoughts in words, which is practically the same thing with +verse as with prose. As for the two remaining parts, the Melody is the +greatest of the pleasurable accessories of Tragedy. The Spectacle, +though an attraction, is the least artistic of all the parts, and has +least to do with the art of poetry. The tragi.e.fect is quite +possible without a public performance and actors; and besides, the +getting-up of the Spectacle is more a matter for the costumier than +the poet. + + + + +7 + + +Having thus distinguished the parts, let us now consider the proper +construction of the Fable or Plot, as that is at once the first and +the most important thing in Tragedy. We have laid it down that a +tragedy is an imitation of an action that is complete in itself, as a +whole of some magnitude; for a whole may be of no magnitude to speak +of. Now a whole is that which has beginning, middle, and end. A +beginning is that which is not itself necessarily after anything else, +and which has naturally something else after it; an end is that which +is naturally after something itself, either as its necessary or usual +consequent, and with nothing else after it; and a middle, that which +is by nature after one thing and has also another after it. A +well-constructed Plot, therefore, cannot either begin or end at any +point one likes; beginning and end in it must be of the forms just +described. Again: to be beautiful, a living creature, and every whole +made up of parts, must not only present a certain order in its +arrangement of parts, but also be of a certain definite magnitude. +Beauty is a matter of size and order, and therefore impossible either +(1) in a very minute creature, since our perception becomes indistinct +as it approaches instantaneity; or (2) in a creature of vast +size--one, say, 1,000 miles long--as in that case, instead of the +object being seen all at once, the unity and wholeness of it is lost +to the beholder. + +Just in the same way, then, as a beautiful whole made up of parts, or +a beautiful living creature, must be of some size, a size to be taken +in by the eye, so a story or Plot must be of some length, but of a +length to be taken in by the memory. As for the limit of its length, +so far as that is relative to public performances and spectators, it +does not fall within the theory of poetry. If they had to perform a +hundred tragedies, they would be timed by water-clocks, as they are +said to have been at one period. The limit, however, set by the actual +nature of the thing is this: the longer the story, consistently with +its being comprehensible as a whole, the finer it is by reason of its +magnitude. As a rough general formula, 'a length which allows of the +hero passing by a series of probable or necessary stages from +misfortune to happiness, or from happiness to misfortune', may suffice +as a limit for the magnitude of the story. + + + + +8 + + +The Unity of a Plot does not consist, as some suppose, in its having +one man as its subject. An infinity of things befall that one man, +some of which it is impossible to reduce to unity; and in like manner +there are many actions of one man which cannot be made to form one +action. One sees, therefore, the mistake of all the poets who have +written a _Heracleid_, a _Theseid_, or similar poems; they suppose +that, because Heracles was one man, the story also of Heracles must be +one story. Homer, however, evidently understood this point quite well, +whether by art or instinct, just in the same way as he excels the rest +i.e.ery other respect. In writing an _Odyssey_, he did not make the +poem cover all that ever befell his hero--it befell him, for instance, +to get wounded on Parnassus and also to feign madness at the time of +the call to arms, but the two incidents had no probable or necessary +connexion with one another--instead of doing that, he took an action +with a Unity of the kind we are describing as the subject of the +_Odyssey_, as also of the _Iliad_. The truth is that, just as in the +other imitative arts one imitation is always of one thing, so in +poetry the story, as an imitation of action, must represent one +action, a complete whole, with its several incidents so closely +connected that the transposal or withdrawal of any one of them will +disjoin and dislocate the whole. For that which makes no perceptible +difference by its presence or absence is no real part of the whole. + + + + +9 + + +From what we have said it will be seen that the poet's function is to +describe, not the thing that has happened, but a kind of thing that +might happen, i.e. what is possible as being probable or necessary. +The distinction between historian and poet is not in the one writing +prose and the other verse--you might put the work of Herodotus into +verse, and it would still be a species of history; it consists really +in this, that the one describes the thing that has been, and the +other a kind of thing that might be. Hence poetry is something more +philosophic and of graver import than history, since its statements +are of the nature rather of universals, whereas those of history are +singulars. By a universal statement I mean one as to what such or such +a kind of man will probably or necessarily say or do--which is the +aim of poetry, though it affixes proper names to the characters; by a +singular statement, one as to what, say, Alcibiades did or had done to +him. In Comedy this has become clear by this time; it is only when +their plot is already made up of probable incidents that the.g.ve it +a basis of proper names, choosing for the purpose any names that may +occur to them, instead of writing like the old iambic poets about +particular persons. In Tragedy, however, they still adhere to the +historic names; and for this reason: what convinces is the possible; +now whereas we are not yet sure as to the possibility of that which +has not happened, that which has happened is manifestly possible, else +it would not have come to pass. Nevertheless even in Tragedy there are +some plays with but one or two known names in them, the rest being +inventions; and there are some without a single known name, e.g. +Agathon's Anthens, in which both incidents and names are of the poet's +invention; and it is no less delightful on that account. So that one +must not aim at a rigid adherence to the traditional stories on which +tragedies are based. It would be absurd, in fact, to do so, as even +the known stories are only known to a few, though they are a delight +none the less to all. + +It i.e.ident from the above that, the poet must be more the poet of +his stories or Plots than of his verses, inasmuch as he is a poet by +virtue of the imitative element in his work, and it is actions that he +imitates. And if he should come to take a subject from actual history, +he is none the less a poet for that; since some historic occurrences +may very well be in the probable and possible order of things; and it +is in that aspect of them that he is their poet. + +Of simple Plots and actions the episodic are the worst. I call a Plot +episodic when there is neither probability nor necessity in the +sequence of episodes. Actions of this sort bad poets construct through +their own fault, and good ones on account of the players. His work +being for public performance, a good poet often stretches out a Plot +beyond its capabilities, and is thus obliged to twist the sequence of +incident. + +Tragedy, however, is an imitation not only of a complete action, but +also of incidents arousing pity and fear. Such incidents have the very +greatest effect on the mind when they occur unexpectedly and at the +same time in consequence of one another; there is more of the +marvellous in them then than if they happened of themselves or by mere +chance. Even matters of chance seem most marvellous if there is an +appearance of design as it were in them; as for instance the statue of +Mitys at Argos killed the author of Mitys' death by falling down on +him when a looker-on at a public spectacle; for incidents like that we +think to be not without a meaning. A Plot, therefore, of this sort is +necessarily finer than others. + + + + +10 + + +Plots are either simple or complex, since the actions they represent +are naturally of this twofold description. The action, proceeding in +the way defined, as one continuous whole, I call simple, when the +change in the hero's fortunes takes place without Peripety or +Discovery; and complex, when it involves one or the other, or both. +These should each of them arise out of the structure of the Plot +itself, so as to be the consequence, necessary or probable, of the +antecedents. There is a great difference between a thing happening +_propter hoc_ and _post hoc_. + + + + +11 + + +A Peripety is the change from one state of things within the play to +its opposite of the kind described, and that too in the way we are +saying, in the probable or necessary sequence of events; as it is for +instance in _Oedipus_: here the opposite state of things is produced +by the Messenger, who, coming to gladden Oedipus and to remove his +fears as to his mother, reveals the secret of his birth. And in +_Lynceus_: just as he is being led off for execution, with Danaus at +his side to put him to death, the incidents preceding this bring it +about that he is saved and Danaus put to death. A Discovery is, as the +very word implies, a change from ignorance to knowledge, and thus to +either love or hate, in the personages marked for good or evil +fortune. The finest form of Discovery is one attended by Peripeties, +like that which goes with the Discovery in _Oedipus_. There are no +doubt other forms of it; what we have said may happen in a way in +reference to inanimate things, even things of a very casual kind; and +it is also possible to discover whether some one has done or not done +something. But the form most directly connected with the Plot and the +action of the piece is the first-mentioned. This, with a Peripety, +will arouse either pity or fear--actions of that nature being what +Tragedy is assumed to represent; and it will also serve to bring about +the happy or unhappy ending. The Discovery, then, being of persons, it +may be that of one party only to the other, the latter being already +known; or both the parties may have to discover themselves. Iphigenia, +for instance, was discovered to Orestes by sending the letter; and +another Discovery was required to reveal him to Iphigenia. + +Two parts of the Plot, then, Peripety and Discovery, are on matters of +this sort. A third part is Suffering; which we may define as an action +of a destructive or painful nature, such as murders on the stage, +tortures, woundings, and the like. The other two have been already +explained. + + + + +12 + + +The parts of Tragedy to be treated as formative elements in the whole +were mentioned in a previous Chapter. From the point of view, however, +of its quantity, i.e. the separate sections into which it is divided, +a tragedy has the following parts: Prologue, Episode, Exode, and a +choral portion, distinguished into Parode and Stasimon; these two are +common to all tragedies, whereas songs from the stage and Commoe are +only found in some. The Prologue is all that precedes the Parode of +the chorus; an Episode all that comes in between two whole choral +songs; the Exode all that follows after the last choral song. In the +choral portion the Parode is the whole first statement of the chorus; +a Stasimon, a song of the chorus without anapaests or trochees; a +Commas, a lamentation sung by chorus and actor in concert. The parts +of Tragedy to be used as formative elements in the whole we have +already mentioned; the above are its parts from the point of view of +its quantity, or the separate sections into which it is divided. + + + + +13 + + +The next points after what we have said above will be these: (1) What +is the poet to aim at, and what is he to avoid, in constructing his +Plots? and (2) What are the conditions on which the tragi.e.fect +depends? + +We assume that, for the finest form of Tragedy, the Plot must be not +simple but complex; and further, that it must imitate actions arousing +pity and fear, since that is the distinctive function of this kind of +imitation. It follows, therefore, that there are three forms of Plot +to be avoided. (1) A good man must not be seen passing from happiness +to misery, or (2) a bad man from misery to happiness. + +The first situation is not fear-inspiring or piteous, but simply +odious to us. The second is the most untragic that can be; it has no +one of the requisites of Tragedy; it does not appeal either to the +human feeling in us, or to our pity, or to our fears. Nor, on the +other hand, should (3) an extremely bad man be seen falling from +happiness into misery. Such a story may arouse the human feeling in +us, but it will not move us to either pity or fear; pity is occasioned +by undeserved misfortune, and fear by that of one like ourselves; so +that there will be nothing either piteous or fear-inspiring in the +situation. There remains, then, the intermediate kind of personage, a +man not pre-eminently virtuous and just, whose misfortune, however, is +brought upon him not by vice and depravity but by some error of +judgement, of the number of those in the enjoyment of great reputation +and prosperity; e.g. Oedipus, Thyestes, and the men of note of similar +families. The perfect Plot, accordingly, must have a single, and not +(as some tell us) a double issue; the change in the hero's fortunes +must be not from misery to happiness, but on the contrary from +happiness to misery; and the cause of it must lie not in any +depravity, but in some great error on his part; the man himself being +either such as we have described, or better, not worse, than that. +Fact also confirms our theory. Though the poets began by accepting any +tragic story that came to hand, in these days the finest tragedies are +always on the story of some few houses, on that of Alemeon, Oedipus, +Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Telephus, or any others that may have +been involved, as either agents or sufferers, in some deed of horror. +The theoretically best tragedy, then, has a Plot of this description. +The critics, therefore, are wrong who blame Euripides for taking this +line in his tragedies, and giving many of them an unhappy ending. It +is, as we have said, the right line to take. The best proof is this: +on the stage, and in the public performances, such plays, properly +worked out, are seen to be the most truly tragic; and Euripides, even +if hi.e.ecution be faulty i.e.ery other point, is seen to be +nevertheless the most tragic certainly of the dramatists. After this +comes the construction of Plot which some rank first, one with a +double story (like the _Odyssey_) and an opposite issue for the good +and the bad personages. It is ranked as first only through the +weakness of the audiences; the poets merely follow their public, +writing as its wishes dictate. But the pleasure here is not that of +Tragedy. It belongs rather to Comedy, where the bitterest enemies in +the piece (e.g. Orestes and Aegisthus) walk off good friends at the +end, with no slaying of any one by any one. + + + + +14 + + +The tragic fear and pity may be aroused by the Spectacle; but they may +also be aroused by the very structure and incidents of the play--which +is the better way and shows the better poet. The Plot in fact should +be so framed that, even without seeing the things take place, he who +simply hears the account of them shall be filled with horror and pity +at the incidents; which is just the effect that the mere recital of +the story in _Oedipus_ would have on one. To produce this same effect +by means of the Spectacle is less artistic, and requires extraneous +aid. Those, however, who make use of the Spectacle to put before us +that which is merely monstrous and not productive of fear, are wholly +out of touch with Tragedy; not every kind of pleasure should be +required of a tragedy, but only its own proper pleasure. + +The tragic pleasure is that of pity and fear, and the poet has to +produce it by a work of imitation; it is clear, therefore, that the +causes should be included in the incidents of his story. Let us see, +then, what kinds of incident strike one as horrible, or rather as +piteous. In a deed of this description the parties must necessarily be +either friends, or enemies, or indifferent to one another. Now when +enemy does it on enemy, there is nothing to move us to pity either in +his doing or in his meditating the deed, except so far as the actual +pain of the sufferer is concerned; and the same is true when the +parties are indifferent to one another. Whenever the tragic deed, +however, is done within the family--when murder or the like is done or +meditated by brother on brother, by son on father, by mother on son, +or son on mother--these are the situations the poet should seek after. +The traditional stories, accordingly, must be kept as they are, e.g. +the murder of Clytaemnestra by Orestes and of Eriphyle by Alcmeon. At +the same time even with these there is something left to the poet +himself; it is for him to devise the right way of treating them. Let +us explain more clearly what we mean by 'the right way'. The deed of +horror may be done by the doer knowingly and consciously, as in the +old poets, and in Medea's murder of her children in Euripides. Or he +may do it, but in ignorance of his relationship, and discover that +afterwards, as does the _Oedipus_ in Sophocles. Here the deed is +outside the play; but it may be within it, like the act of the Alcmeon +in Astydamas, or that of the Telegonus in _Ulysses Wounded_. A third +possibility is for one meditating some deadly injury to another, in +ignorance of his relationship, to make the discovery in time to draw +back. These exhaust the possibilities, since the deed must necessarily +be either done or not done, and either knowingly or unknowingly. + +The worst situation is when the personage is with full knowledge on +the point of doing the deed, and leaves it undone. It is odious and +also (through the absence of suffering) untragic; hence it is that no +one is made to act thus except in some few instances, e.g. Haemon and +Creon in _Antigone_. Next after this comes the actual perpetration of +the deed meditated. A better situation than that, however, is for the +deed to be done in ignorance, and the relationship discovered +afterwards, since there is nothing odious in it, and the Discovery +will serve to astound us. But the best of all is the last; what we +have in _Cresphontes_, for example, where Merope, on the point of +slaying her son, recognizes him in time; in _Iphigenia_, where sister +and brother are in a like position; and in _Helle_, where the son +recognizes his mother, when on the point of giving her up to her +enemy. + +This will explain why our tragedies are restricted (as we said just +now) to such a small number of families. It was accident rather than +art that led the poets in quest of subjects to embody this kind of +incident in their Plots. They are still obliged, accordingly, to have +recourse to the families in which such horrors have occurred. + +On the construction of the Plot, and the kind of Plot required for +Tragedy, enough has now been said. + + + + +15 + + +In the Characters there are four points to aim at. First and foremost, +that they shall be good. There will be an element of character in the +play, if (as has been observed) what a personage says or does reveals +a certain moral purpose; and a good element of character, if the +purpose so revealed is good. Such goodness is possible i.e.ery type +of personage, even in a woman or a slave, though the one is perhaps an +inferior, and the other a wholly worthless being. The second point is +to make them appropriate. The Character before us may be, say, manly; +but it is not appropriate in a female Character to be manly, or +clever. The third is to make them like the reality, which is not the +same as their being good and appropriate, in our sense of the term. +The fourth is to make them consistent and the same throughout; even if +inconsistency be part of the man before one for imitation as +presenting that form of character, he should still be consistently +inconsistent. We have an instance of baseness of character, not +required for the story, in the Menelaus in _Orestes_; of the +incongruous and unbefitting in the lamentation of Ulysses in _Scylla_, +and in the (clever) speech of Melanippe; and of inconsistency in +_Iphigenia at Aulis_, where Iphigenia the suppliant is utterly unlike +the later Iphigenia. The right thing, however, is in the Characters +just as in the incidents of the play to endeavour always after the +necessary or the probable; so that whenever such-and-such a personage +says or does such-and-such a thing, it shall be the probable or +necessary outcome of his character; and whenever this incident follows +on that, it shall be either the necessary or the probable consequence +of it. From this one sees (to digress for a moment) that the +Denouement also should arise out of the plot itself, arid not depend +on a stage-artifice, as in _Medea_, or in the story of the (arrested) +departure of the Greeks in the _Iliad_. The artifice must be reserved +for matters outside the play--for past events beyond human knowledge, +or events yet to come, which require to be foretold or announced; +since it is the privilege of the Gods to know everything. There should +be nothing improbable among the actual incidents. If it be +unavoidable, however, it should be outside the tragedy, like the +improbability in the _Oedipus_ of Sophocles. But to return to the +Characters. As Tragedy is an imitation of personages better than the +ordinary man, we in our way should follow the example of good +portrait-painters, who reproduce the distinctive features of a man, +and at the same time, without losing the likeness, make him handsomer +than he is. The poet in like manner, in portraying men quick or slow +to anger, or with similar infirmities of character, must know how to +represent them as such, and at the same time as good men, as Agathon +and Homer have represented Achilles. + +All these rules one must keep in mind throughout, and further, those +also for such points of stage-effect as directly depend on the art of +the poet, since in these too one may often make mistakes. Enough, +however, has been said on the subject in one of our published +writings. + + + + +16 + + +Discovery in general has been explained already. As for the species of +Discovery, the first to be noted is (1) the least artistic form of it, +of which the poets make most use through mere lack of invention, +Discovery by signs or marks. Of these signs some are congenital, like +the 'lance-head which the Earth-born have on them', or 'stars', such +as Carcinus brings in in his _Thyestes_; others acquired after birth-- +these latter being either marks on the body, e.g. scars, or external +tokens, like necklaces, or to take another sort of instance, the ark +in the Discovery in _Tyro_. Even these, however, admit of two uses, a +better and a worse; the scar of Ulysses is an instance; the Discovery +of him through it is made in one way by the nurse and in another by +the swineherds. A Discovery using signs as a means of assurance is +less artistic, as indeed are all such as imply reflection; whereas one +bringing them in all of a sudden, as in the _Bath-story_, is of a +better order. Next after these are (2) Discoveries made directly by +the poet; which are inartistic for that very reason; e.g. Orestes' +Discovery of himself in _Iphigenia_: whereas his sister reveals who +she is by the letter, Orestes is made to say himself what the poet +rather than the story demands. This, therefore, is not far removed +from the first-mentioned fault, since he might have presented certain +tokens as well. Another instance is the 'shuttle's voice' in the +_Tereus_ of Sophocles. (3) A third species is Discovery through +memory, from a man's consciousness being awakened by something seen or +heard. Thus in _The Cyprioe_ of Dicaeogenes, the sight of the picture +makes the man burst into tears; and in the _Tale of Alcinous_, hearing +the harper Ulysses is reminded of the past and weeps; the Discovery of +them being the result. (4) A fourth kind is Discovery through +reasoning; e.g. in _The Choephoroe_: 'One like me is here; there is +no one like me but Orestes; he, therefore, must be here.' Or that +which Polyidus the Sophist suggested for _Iphigenia_; since it was +natural for Orestes to reflect: 'My sister was sacrificed, and I am to +be sacrificed like her.' Or that in the _Tydeus_ of Theodectes: 'I +came to find a son, and am to die myself.' Or that in _The Phinidae_: +on seeing the place the women inferred their fate, that they were to +die there, since they had also been exposed there. (5) There is, too, +a composite Discovery arising from bad reasoning on the side of the +other party. An instance of it is in _Ulysses the False Messenger_: he +said he should know the bow--which he had not seen; but to suppose +from that that he would know it again (as though he had once seen it) +was bad reasoning. (6) The best of all Discoveries, however, is that +arising from the incidents themselves, when the great surprise comes +about through a probable incident, like that in the _Oedipus_ of +Sophocles; and also in _Iphigenia_; for it was not improbable that she +should wish to have a letter taken home. These last are the only +Discoveries independent of the artifice of signs and necklaces. Next +after them come Discoveries through reasoning. + + + + +17 + + +At the time when he is constructing his Plots, and engaged on the +Diction in which they are worked out, the poet should remember +(1) to put the actual scenes as far as possible before hi.e.es. In +this way, seeing everything with the vividness of an eye-witness as it +were, he will devise what is appropriate, and be least likely to +overlook incongruities. This is shown by what was censured in +Carcinus, the return of Amphiaraus from the sanctuary; it would have +passed unnoticed, if it had not been actually seen by the audience; +but on the stage his play failed, the incongruity of the incident +offending the spectators. (2) As far as may be, too, the poet should +even act his story with the very gestures of his personages. Given the +same natural qualifications, he who feels the emotions to be described +will be the most convincing; distress and anger, for instance, are +portrayed most truthfully by one who is feeling them at the moment. +Hence it is that poetry demands a man with special gift for it, or +else one with a touch of madness in him; the, former can easily assume +the required mood, and the latter may be actually beside himself with +emotion. (3) His story, again, whether already made or of his own +making, he should first simplify and reduce to a universal form, +before proceeding to lengthen it out by the insertion of episodes. The +following will show how the universal element in _Iphigenia_, for +instance, may be viewed: A certain maiden having been offered in +sacrifice, and spirited away from her sacrificers into another land, +where the custom was to sacrifice all strangers to the Goddess, she +was made there the priestess of this rite. Long after that the brother +of the priestess happened to come; the fact, however, of the oracle +having for a certain reason bidden him go thither, and his object in +going, are outside the Plot of the play. On his coming he was +arrested, and about to be sacrificed, when he revealed who he +was--either as Euripides puts it, or (as suggested by Polyidus) by the +not improbable exclamation, 'So I too am doomed to be sacrificed, as +my sister was'; and the disclosure led to his salvation. This done, +the next thing, after the proper names have been fixed as a basis for +the story, is to work i.e.isodes or accessory incidents. One must +mind, however, that the episodes are appropriate, like the fit of +madness in Orestes, which led to his arrest, and the purifying, which +brought about his salvation. In plays, then, the episodes are short; +i.e.ic poetry they serve to lengthen out the poem. The argument of +the _Odyssey_ is not a long one. + +A certain man has been abroad many years; Poseidon i.e.er on the +watch for him, and he is all alone. Matters at home too have come to +this, that his substance is being wasted and his son's death plotted +by suitors to his wife. Then he arrives there himself after his +grievous sufferings; reveals himself, and falls on hi.e.emies; and +the end is his salvation and their death. This being all that is +proper to the _Odyssey_, everything else in it i.e.isode. + + + + +18 + + +(4) There is a further point to be borne in mind. Every tragedy is in +part Complication and in part Denouement; the incidents before the +opening scene, and often certain also of those within the play, +forming the Complication; and the rest the Denouement. By Complication +I mean all from the beginning of the story to the point just before +the change in the hero's fortunes; by Denouement, all from the +beginning of the change to the end. In the _Lynceus_ of Theodectes, +for instance, the Complication includes, together with the presupposed +incidents, the seizure of the child and that in turn of the parents; +and the Denouement all from the indictment for the murder to the end. +Now it is right, when one speaks of a tragedy as the same or not the +same as another, to do so on the ground before all else of their Plot, +i.e. as having the same or not the same Complication and Denouement. +Yet there are many dramatists who, after a good Complication, fail in +the Denouement. But it is necessary for both points of construction to +be always duly mastered. (5) There are four distinct species of +Tragedy--that being the number of the constituents also that have been +mentioned: first, the complex Tragedy, which is all Peripety and +Discovery; second, the Tragedy of suffering, e.g. the _Ajaxes_ and +_Ixions_; third, the Tragedy of character, e.g. _The Phthiotides_ and +_Peleus_. The fourth constituent is that of 'Spectacle', exemplified +in _The Phorcides_, in _Prometheus_, and in all plays with the scene +laid in the nether world. The poet's aim, then, should be to combine +every element of interest, if possible, or else the more important and +the major part of them. This is now especially necessary owing to the +unfair criticism to which the poet is subjected in these days. Just +because there have been poets before him strong in the several species +of tragedy, the critics now expect the one man to surpass that which +was the strong point of each one of his predecessors. (6) One should +also remember what has been said more than once, and not write a +tragedy on an epic body of incident (i.e. one with a plurality of +stories in it), by attempting to dramatize, for instance, the entire +story of the _Iliad_. In the epic owing to its scale every part is +treated at proper length; with a drama, however, on the same story the +result is very disappointing. This is shown by the fact that all who +have dramatized the fall of Ilium in its entirety, and not part by +part, like Euripides, or the whole of the Niobe story, instead of a +portion, like Aeschylus, either fail utterly or have but ill success +on the stage; for that and that alone was enough to rui.e.en a play +by Agathon. Yet in their Peripeties, as also in their simple plots, +the poets I mean show wonderful skill in aiming at the kind of effect +they desire--a tragic situation that arouses the human feeling in one, +like the clever villain (e.g. Sisyphus) deceived, or the brave +wrongdoer worsted. This is probable, however, only in Agathon's sense, +when he speaks of the probability of even improbabilities coming to +pass. (7) The Chorus too should be regarded as one of the actors; it +should be an integral part of the whole, and take a share in the +action--that which it has in Sophocles rather than in Euripides. With +the later poets, however, the songs in a play of theirs have no more +to do with the Plot of that than of any other tragedy. Hence it is +that they are now singing intercalary pieces, a practice first +introduced by Agathon. And yet what real difference is there between +singing such intercalary pieces, and attempting to fit in a speech, or +even a whole act, from one play into another? + + + + +19 + + +The Plot and Characters having been discussed, it remains to consider +the Diction and Thought. As for the Thought, we may assume what is +said of it in our Art of Rhetoric, as it belongs more properly to that +department of inquiry. The Thought of the personages is shown in +everything to be effected by their language--i.e.ery effort to prove +or disprove, to arouse emotion (pity, fear, anger, and the like), or +to maximize or minimize things. It is clear, also, that their mental +procedure must be on the same lines in their actions likewise, +whenever they wish them to arouse pity or horror, or have a look of +importance or probability. The only difference is that with the act +the impression has to be made without explanation; whereas with the +spoken word it has to be produced by the speaker, and result from his +language. What, indeed, would be the good of the speaker, if things +appeared in the required light even apart from anything he says? + +As regards the Diction, one subject for inquiry under this head is the +turns given to the language when spoken; e.g. the difference between +command and prayer, simple statement and threat, question and answer, +and so forth. The theory of such matters, however, belongs to +Elocution and the professors of that art. Whether the poet knows these +things or not, his art as a poet is never seriously criticized on that +account. What fault can one see in Homer's 'Sing of the wrath, +Goddess'?--which Protagoras has criticized as being a command where a +prayer was meant, since to bid one do or not do, he tells us, is a +command. Let us pass over this, then, as appertaining to another art, +and not to that of poetry. + + + + +20 + + +The Diction viewed as a whole is made up of the following parts: the +Letter (or ultimate element), the Syllable, the Conjunction, the +Article, the Noun, the Verb, the Case, and the Speech. (1) The Letter +is an indivisible sound of a particular kind, one that may become a +factor in an intelligible sound. Indivisible sounds are uttered by the +brutes also, but no one of these is a Letter in our sense of the term. +These elementary sounds are either vowels, semivowels, or mutes. A +vowel is a Letter having an audible sound without the addition of +another Letter. A semivowel, one having an audible sound by the +addition of another Letter; e.g. S and R. A mute, one having no sound +at all by itself, but becoming audible by an addition, that of one of +the Letters which have a sound of some sort of their own; e.g. D and +G. The Letters differ in various ways: as produced by different +conformations or in different regions of the mouth; as aspirated, not +aspirated, or sometimes one and sometimes the other; as long, short, +or of variable quantity; and further as having an acute.g.ave, or +intermediate accent. + +The details of these matters we mubt leave to the metricians. (2) A +Syllable is a nonsignificant composite sound, made up of a mute and a +Letter having a sound (a vowel or semivowel); for GR, without an A, is +just as much a Syllable as GRA, with an A. The various forms of the +Syllable also belong to the theory of metre. (3) A Conjunction is (a) +a non-significant sound which, when one significant sound is formable +out of several, neither hinders nor aids the union, and which, if the +Speech thus formed stands by itself (apart from other Speeches) must +not be inserted at the beginning of it; e.g. _men_, _de_, _toi_, +_de_. Or (b) a non-significant sound capable of combining two or more +significant sounds into one; e.g. _amphi_, _peri_, etc. (4) An +Article is a non-significant sound marking the beginning, end, or +dividing-point of a Speech, its natural place being either at the +extremities or in the middle. (5) A Noun or name is a composite +significant sound not involving the idea of time, with parts which +have no significance by themselves in it. It is to be remembered that +in a compound we do not think of the parts as having a significance +also by themselves; in the name 'Theodorus', for instance, the _doron_ +means nothing to us. + +(6) A Verb is a composite significant sound involving the idea of +time, with parts which (just as in the Noun) have no significance by +themselves in it. Whereas the word 'man' or 'white' does not imply +_when_, 'walks' and 'has walked' involve in addition to the idea of +walking that of time present or time past. + +(7) A Case of a Noun or Verb is when the word means 'of or 'to' a +thing, and so forth, or for one or many (e.g. 'man' and 'men'); or it +may consist merely in the mode of utterance, e.g. in question, +command, etc. 'Walked?' and 'Walk!' are Cases of the verb 'to walk' of +this last kind. (8) A Speech is a composite significant sound, some of +the parts of which have a certain significance by themselves. It may +be observed that a Speech is not always made up of Noun and Verb; it +may be without a Verb, like the definition of man; but it will always +have some part with a certain significance by itself. In the Speech +'Cleon walks', 'Cleon' is an instance of such a part. A Speech is said +to be one in two ways, either as signifying one thing, or as a union +of several Speeches made into one by conjunction. Thus the _Iliad_ is +one Speech by conjunction of several; and the definition of man is one +through its signifying one thing. + + + + +21 + + +Nouns are of two kinds, either (1) simple, i.e. made up of +non-significant parts, like the word ge, or (2) double; in the latter +case the word may be made up either of a significant and a +non-significant part (a distinction which disappears in the compound), +or of two significant parts. It is possible also to have triple, +quadruple or higher compounds, like most of our amplified names; e.g.' +Hermocaicoxanthus' and the like. + +Whatever its structure, a Noun must always be either (1) the ordinary +word for the thing, or (2) a strange word, or (3) a metaphor, or (4) +an ornamental word, or (5) a coined word, or (6) a word lengthened +out, or (7) curtailed, or (8) altered in form. By the ordinary word I +mean that in general use in a country; and by a strange word, one in +use elsewhere. So that the same word may obviously be at once strange +and ordinary, though not in reference to the same people; _sigunos_, +for instance, is an ordinary word in Cyprus, and a strange word with +us. Metaphor consists in giving the thing a name that belongs to +something else; the transference being either from genus to species, +or from species to genus, or from species to species, or on grounds of +analogy. That from genus to species i.e.emplified in 'Here stands my +ship'; for lying at anchor is the 'standing' of a particular kind of +thing. That from species to genus in 'Truly ten thousand good deeds +has Ulysses wrought', where 'ten thousand', which is a particular +large number, is put in place of the generic 'a large number'. That +from species to species in 'Drawing the life with the bronze', and in +'Severing with the enduring bronze'; where the poet uses 'draw' in the +sense of 'sever' and 'sever' in that of 'draw', both words meaning to +'take away' something. That from analogy is possible whenever there +are four terms so related that the second (B) is to the first (A), as +the fourth (D) to the third (C); for one may then metaphorically put B +in lieu of D, and D in lieu of B. Now and then, too, they qualify the +metaphor by adding on to it that to which the word it supplants is +relative. Thus a cup (B) is in relation to Dionysus (A) what a shield +(D) is to Ares (C). The cup accordingly will be metaphorically +described as the 'shield _of Dionysus_' (D + A), and the shield as the +'cup _of Ares_' (B + C). Or to take another instance: As old age (D) +is to life (C), so i.e.ening (B) to day (A). One will accordingly +describe evening (B) as the 'old age _of the day_' (D + A)--or by the +Empedoclean equivalent; and old age (D) as the 'evening' or 'sunset of +life'' (B + C). It may be that some of the terms thus related have no +special name of their own, but for all that they will be +metaphorically described in just the same way. Thus to cast forth +seed-corn is called 'sowing'; but to cast forth its flame, as said of +the sun, has no special name. This nameless act (B), however, stands +in just the same relation to its object, sunlight (A), as sowing (D) +to the seed-corn (C). Hence the expression in the poet, 'sowing around +a god-created _flame_' (D + A). There is also another form of +qualified metaphor. Having given the thing the alien name, one may by +a negative addition deny of it one of the attributes naturally +associated with its new name. An instance of this would be to call the +shield not the 'cup _of Ares_,' as in the former case, but a 'cup +_that holds no wine_'. * * * A coined word is a name which, being +quite unknown among a people, is given by the poet himself; e.g. (for +there are some words that seem to be of this origin) _hernyges_ for +horns, and _areter_ for priest. A word is said to be lengthened out, +when it has a short vowel made long, or an extra syllable inserted; e. +g. _polleos_ for _poleos_, _Peleiadeo_ for _Peleidon_. It is said to +be curtailed, when it has lost a part; e.g. _kri_, _do_, and _ops_ in +_mia ginetai amphoteron ops_. It is an altered word, when part is left +as it was and part is of the poet's making; e.g. _dexiteron_ for +_dexion_, in _dexiteron kata maxon_. + +The Nouns themselves (to whatever class they may belong) are either +masculines, feminines, or intermediates (neuter). All ending in N, P, +S, or in the two compounds of this last, PS and X, are masculines. All +ending in the invariably long vowels, H and O, and in A among the +vowels that may be long, are feminines. So that there is an equal +number of masculine and feminine terminations, as PS and X are the +same as S, and need not be counted. There is no Noun, however, ending +in a mute or i.e.ther of the two short vowels, E and O. Only three +(_meli, kommi, peperi_) end in I, and five in T. The intermediates, or +neuters, end in the variable vowels or in N, P, X. + + + + +22 + + +The perfection of Diction is for it to be at once clear and not mean. +The clearest indeed is that made up of the ordinary words for things, +but it is mean, as is shown by the poetry of Cleophon and Sthenelus. +On the other hand the Diction becomes distinguished and non-prosaic by +the use of unfamiliar terms, i.e. strange words, metaphors, +lengthened forms, and everything that deviates from the ordinary modes +of speech.--But a whole statement in such terms will be either a +riddle or a barbarism, a riddle, if made up of metaphors, a barbarism, +if made up of strange words. The very nature indeed of a riddle is +this, to describe a fact in an impossible combination of words (which +cannot be done with the real names for things, but can be with their +metaphorical substitutes); e.g. 'I saw a man glue brass on another +with fire', and the like. The corresponding use of strange words +results in a barbarism.--A certain admixture, accordingly, of +unfamiliar terms is necessary. These, the strange word, the metaphor, +the ornamental equivalent, etc.. will save the language from seeming +mean and prosaic, while the ordinary words in it will secure the +requisite clearness. What helps most, however, to render the Diction +at once clear and non-prosaic is the use of the lengthened, curtailed, +and altered forms of words. Their deviation from the ordinary words +will, by making the language unlike that in general use.g.ve it a +non-prosaic appearance; and their having much in common with the words +in general use will give it the quality of clearness. It is not right, +then, to condemn these modes of speech, and ridicule the poet for +using them, as some have done; e.g. the elder Euclid, who said it was +easy to make poetry if one were to be allowed to lengthen the words in +the statement itself as much as one likes--a procedure he caricatured +by reading '_Epixarhon eidon Marathonade Badi--gonta_, and _ouk han g' +eramenos ton ekeinou helle boron_ as verses. A too apparent use of +these licences has certainly a ludicrous effect, but they are not +alone in that; the rule of moderation applies to all the constituents +of the poetic vocabulary; even with metaphors, strange words, and the +rest, the effect will be the same, if one uses them improperly and +with a view to provoking laughter. The proper use of them is a very +different thing. To realize the difference one should take an epic +verse and see how it reads when the normal words are introduced. The +same should be done too with the strange word, the metaphor, and the +rest; for one has only to put the ordinary words in their place to see +the truth of what we are saying. The same iambic, for instance, is +found in Aeschylus and Euripides, and as it stands in the former it is +a poor line; whereas Euripides, by the change of a single word, the +substitution of a strange for what is by usage the ordinary word, has +made it seem a fine one. Aeschylus having said in his _Philoctetes_: + + _phagedaina he mon sarkas hesthiei podos_ + +Euripides has merely altered the hesthiei here into thoinatai. Or +suppose + + _nun de m' heon holigos te kai outidanos kai haeikos_ + +to be altered by the substitution of the ordinary words into + + _nun de m' heon mikros te kai hasthenikos kai haeidos_ + +Or the line + + _diphron haeikelion katatheis olingen te trapexan_ + +into + + _diphron moxtheron katatheis mikran te trapexan_ + +Or heiones boosin into heiones kraxousin. Add to this that Ariphrades +used to ridicule the tragedians for introducing expressions unknown in +the language of common life, _doeaton hapo_ (for _apo domaton_), +_sethen_, _hego de nin_, _Achilleos peri_ (for _peri Achilleos_), and +the like. The mere fact of their not being in ordinary speech gives +the Diction a non-prosaic character; but Ariphrades was unaware of +that. It is a great thing, indeed, to make a proper use of these +poetical forms, as also of compounds and strange words. But the +greatest thing by far is to be a master of metaphor. It is the one +thing that cannot be learnt from others; and it is also a sign of +genius, since a good metaphor implies an intuitive perception of the +similarity in dissimilars. + +Of the kinds of words we have enumerated it may be observed that +compounds are most in place in the dithyramb, strange words in heroic, +and metaphors in iambic poetry. Heroic poetry, indeed, may avail +itself of them all. But in iambic verse, which models itself as far as +possible on the spoken language, only those kinds of words are in +place which are allowable also in an oration, i.e. the ordinary word, +the metaphor, and the ornamental equivalent. + +Let this, then, suffice as an account of Tragedy, the art imitating by +means of action on the stage. + + + + +23 + + +As for the poetry which merely narrates, or imitates by means of +versified language (without action), it i.e.ident that it has several +points in common with Tragedy. + +I. The construction of its stories should clearly be like that in a +drama; they should be based on a single action, one that is a complete +whole in itself, with a beginning, middle, and end, so as to enable +the work to produce its own proper pleasure with all the organic unity +of a living creature. Nor should one suppose that there is anything +like them in our usual histories. A history has to deal not with one +action, but with one period and all that happened in that to one or +more persons, however disconnected the several events may have been. +Just as two events may take place at the same time, e.g. the +sea-fight off Salamis and the battle with the Carthaginians in Sicily, +without converging to the same end, so too of two consecutive events +one may sometimes come after the other with no one end as their common +issue. Nevertheless most of our epic poets, one may say, ignore the +distinction. + +Herein, then, to repeat what we have said before, we have a further +proof of Homer's marvellous superiority to the rest. He did not +attempt to deal even with the Trojan war in its entirety, though it +was a whole with a definite beginning and end--through a feeling +apparently that it was too long a story to be taken in in one view, or +if not that, too complicated from the variety of incident in it. As it +is, he has singled out one section of the whole; many of the other +incidents, however, he brings in as episodes, using the Catalogue of +the Ships, for instance, and other episodes to relieve the uniformity +of his narrative. As for the other epic poets, they treat of one man, +or one period; or else of an action which, although one, has a +multiplicity of parts in it. This last is what the authors of the +_Cypria_ and _Little_ _Iliad_ have done. And the result is that, +whereas the _Iliad_ or _Odyssey_ supplies materials for only one, or +at most two tragedies, the _Cypria_ does that for several, and the +_Little_ _Iliad_ for more than eight: for an _Adjudgment of Arms_, a +_Philoctetes_, a _Neoptolemus_, a _Eurypylus_, a _Ulysses as Beggar_, +a _Laconian Women_, a _Fall of Ilium_, and a _Departure of the Fleet_; +as also a _Sinon_, and _Women of Troy_. + + + + +24 + + +II. Besides this, Epic poetry must divide into the same species as +Tragedy; it must be either simple or complex, a story of character or +one of suffering. Its parts, too, with the exception of Song and +Spectacle, must be the same, as it requires Peripeties, Discoveries, +and scenes of suffering just like Tragedy. Lastly, the Thought and +Diction in it must be good in their way. All these elements appear in +Homer first; and he has made due use of them. His two poems are each +examples of construction, the _Iliad_ simple and a story of suffering, +the _Odyssey_ complex (there is Discovery throughout it) and a story +of character. And they are more than this, since in Diction and +Thought too they surpass all other poems. + +There is, however, a difference in the Epic as compared with Tragedy, +(1) in its length, and (2) in its metre. (1) As to its length, the +limit already suggested will suffice: it must be possible for the +beginning and end of the work to be taken in in one view--a condition +which will be fulfilled if the poem be shorter than the old epics, and +about as long as the series of tragedies offered for one hearing. For +the extension of its length epic poetry has a special advantage, of +which it makes large use. In a play one cannot represent an action +with a number of parts going on simultaneously; one is limited to the +part on the stage and connected with the actors. Whereas i.e.ic +poetry the narrative form makes it possible for one to describe a +number of simultaneous incidents; and these, if germane to the +subject, increase the body of the poem. This then is a gain to the +Epic, tending to give it grandeur, and also variety of interest and +room for episodes of diverse kinds. Uniformity of incident by the +satiety it soon creates is apt to ruin tragedies on the stage. (2) As +for its metre, the heroic has been assigned it from experience; were +any one to attempt a narrative poem in some one, or in several, of the +other metres, the incongruity of the thing would be apparent. The +heroic; in fact is the gravest and weightiest of metres--which is what +makes it more tolerant than the rest of strange words and metaphors, +that also being a point in which the narrative form of poetry goes +beyond all others. The iambic and trochaic, on the other hand, are +metres of movement, the one representing that of life and action, the +other that of the dance. Still more unnatural would it appear, it one +were to write an epic in a medley of metres, as Chaeremon did. Hence +it is that no one has ever written a long story in any but heroic +verse; nature herself, as we have said, teaches us to select the metre +appropriate to such a story. + +Homer, admirable as he is i.e.ery other respect, i.e.pecially so in +this, that he alone among epic poets is not unaware of the part to be +played by the poet himself in the poem. The poet should say very +little in propria persona, as he is no imitator when doing that. +Whereas the other poets are perpetually coming forward in person, and +say but little, and that only here and there, as imitators, Homer +after a brief preface brings in forthwith a man, a woman, or some +other Character--no one of them characterless, but each with +distinctive characteristics. + +The marvellous is certainly required in Tragedy. The Epic, however, +affords more opening for the improbable, the chief factor in the +marvellous, because in it the agents are not visibly before one. The +scene of the pursuit of Hector would be ridiculous on the stage--the +Greeks halting instead of pursuing him, and Achilles shaking his head +to stop them; but in the poem the absurdity is overlooked. The +marvellous, however, is a cause of pleasure, as is shown by the fact +that we all tell a story with additions, in the belief that we are +doing our hearers a pleasure. + +Homer more than any other has taught the rest of us the art of framing +lies in the right way. I mean the use of paralogism. Whenever, if A is +or happens, a consequent, B, is or happens, men's notion is that, if +the B is, the A also is--but that is a false conclusion. Accordingly, +if A is untrue, but there is something else, B, that on the assumption +of its truth follows as its consequent, the right thing then is to add +on the B. Just because we know the truth of the consequent, we are in +our own minds led on to the erroneous inference of the truth of the +antecedent. Here is an instance, from the Bath-story in the _Odyssey_. + +A likely impossibility is always preferable to an unconvincing +possibility. The story should never be made up of improbable +incidents; there should be nothing of the sort in it. If, however, +such incidents are unavoidable, they should be outside the piece, like +the hero's ignorance in _Oedipus_ of the circumstances of Lams' death; +not within it, like the report of the Pythian games in _Electra_, or +the man's having come to Mysia from Tegea without uttering a word on +the way, in _The Mysians_. So that it is ridiculous to say that one's +Plot would have been spoilt without them, since it is fundamentally +wrong to make up such Plots. If the poet has taken such a Plot, +however, and one sees that he might have put it in a more probable +form, he is guilty of absurdity as well as a fault of art. Even in the +_Odyssey_ the improbabilities in the setting-ashore of Ulysses would +be clearly intolerable in the hands of an inferior poet. As it is, the +poet conceals them, his other excellences veiling their absurdity. +Elaborate Diction, however, is required only in places where there is +no action, and no Character or Thought to be revealed. Where there is +Character or Thought, on the other hand, an over-ornate Diction tends +to obscure them. + + + + +25 + + +As regards Problems and their Solutions, one may see the number and +nature of the assumptions on which they proceed by viewing the matter +in the following way. (1) The poet being an imitator just like the +painter or other maker of likenesses, he must necessarily in all +instances represent things in one or other of three aspects, either as +they were or are, or as they are said or thought to be or to have +been, or as they ought to be. (2) All this he does in language, with +an admixture, it may be, of strange words and metaphors, as also of +the various modified forms of words, since the use of these is +conceded in poetry. (3) It is to be remembered, too, that there is not +the same kind of correctness in poetry as in politics, or indeed any +other art. There is, however, within the limits of poetry itself a +possibility of two kinds of error, the one directly, the other only +accidentally connected with the art. If the poet meant to describe the +thing correctly, and failed through lack of power of expression, his +art itself is at fault. But if it was through his having meant to +describe it in some incorrect way (e.g. to make the horse in movement +have both right legs thrown forward) that the technical error (one in +a matter of, say, medicine or some other special science), or +impossibilities of whatever kind they may be, have got into his +description, hi.e.ror in that case is not in the essentials of the +poetic art. These, therefore, must be the premisses of the Solutions +in answer to the criticisms involved in the Problems. + +I. As to the criticisms relating to the poet's art itself. Any +impossibilities there may be in his descriptions of things are faults. +But from another point of view they are justifiable, if they serve the +end of poetry itself--if (to assume what we have said of that end) +they make the effect of some portion of the work more astounding. The +Pursuit of Hector is an instance in point. If, however, the poetic end +might have been as well or better attained without sacrifice of +technical correctness in such matters, the impossibility is not to be +justified, since the description should be, if it can, entirely free +from error. One may ask, too, whether the error is in a matter +directly or only accidentally connected with the poetic art; since it +is a lesser error in an artist not to know, for instance, that the +hind has no horns, than to produce an unrecognizable picture of one. + +II. If the poet's description be criticized as not true to fact, one +may urge perhaps that the object ought to be as described--an answer +like that of Sophocles, who said that he drew men as they ought to be, +and Euripides as they were. If the description, however, be neither +true nor of the thing as it ought to be, the answer must be then, that +it is in accordance with opinion. The tales about Gods, for instance, +may be as wrong as Xenophanes thinks, neither true nor the better +thing to say; but they are certainly in accordance with opinion. Of +other statements in poetry one may perhaps say, not that they are +better than the truth, but that the fact was so at the time; e.g. the +description of the arms: 'their spears stood upright, butt-end upon +the ground'; for that was the usual way of fixing them then, as it is +still with the Illyrians. As for the question whether something said +or done in a poem is morally right or not, in dealing with that one +should consider not only the intrinsic quality of the actual word or +deed, but also the person who says or does it, the person to whom he +says or does it, the time, the means, and the motive of the +agent--whether he does it to attain a greate.g.od, or to avoid a +greater evil.) + +III. Other criticisms one must meet by considering the language of the +poet: (1) by the assumption of a strange word in a passage like +_oureas men proton_, where by _oureas_ Homer may perhaps mean not +mules but sentinels. And in saying of Dolon, _hos p e toi eidos men +heen kakos_, his meaning may perhaps be, not that Dolon's body was +deformed, but that his face was ugly, as _eneidos_ is the Cretan word +for handsome-faced. So, too, _goroteron de keraie_ may mean not 'mix +the wine stronger', as though for topers, but 'mix it quicker'. (2) +Other expressions in Homer may be explained as metaphorical; e.g. in +_halloi men ra theoi te kai aneres eudon (hapantes) pannux_ as +compared with what he tells us at the same time, _e toi hot hes pedion +to Troikon hathreseien, aulon suriggon *te homadon*_ the word +_hapantes_ 'all', is metaphorically put for 'many', since 'all' is a +species of 'many '. So also his _oie d' ammoros_ is metaphorical, the +best known standing 'alone'. (3) A change, as Hippias suggested, in +the mode of reading a word will solve the difficulty in _didomen de +oi_, and _to men ou kataputhetai hombro_. (4) Other difficulties may +be solved by another punctuation; e.g. in Empedocles, _aipsa de thnet +ephyonto, ta prin mathon athanata xora te prin kekreto_. Or (5) by the +assumption of an equivocal term, as in _parocheken de pleo nux_, where +_pleo_ i.e.uivocal. Or (6) by an appeal to the custom of language. +Wine-and-water we call 'wine'; and it is on the same principle that +Homer speaks of a _knemis neoteuktou kassiteroio_, a 'greave of +new-wrought tin.' A worker in iron we call a 'brazier'; and it is on +the same principle that Ganymede is described as the 'wine-server' of +Zeus, though the Gods do not drink wine. This latter, however, may be +an instance of metaphor. But whenever also a word seems to imply some +contradiction, it is necessary to reflect how many ways there may be +of understanding it in the passage in question; e.g. in Homer's _te r' +hesxeto xalkeon hegxos_ one should consider the possible senses of +'was stopped there'--whether by taking it in this sense or in that one +will best avoid the fault of which Glaucon speaks: 'They start with +some improbable presumption; and having so decreed it themselves, +proceed to draw inferences, and censure the poet as though he had +actually said whatever they happen to believe, if his statement +conflicts with their own notion of things.' This is how Homer's +silence about Icarius has been treated. Starting with, the notion of +his having been a Lacedaemonian, the critics think it strange for +Telemachus not to have met him when he went to Lacedaemon. Whereas the +fact may have been as the Cephallenians say, that the wife of Ulysses +was of a Cephallenian family, and that her father's name was Icadius, +not Icarius. So that it is probably a mistake of the critics that has +given rise to the Problem. + +Speaking generally, one has to justify (1) the Impossible by reference +to the requirements of poetry, or to the better, or to opinion. For +the purposes of poetry a convincing impossibility is preferable to an +unconvincing possibility; and if men such as Zeuxis depicted be +impossible, the answer is that it is better they should be like that, +as the artist ought to improve on his model. (2) The Improbable one +has to justify either by showing it to be in accordance with opinion, +or by urging that at times it is not improbable; for there is a +probability of things happening also against probability. (3) The +contradictions found in the poet's language one should first test as +one does an opponent's confutation in a dialectical argument, so as to +see whether he means the same thing, in the same relation, and in the +same sense, before admitting that he has contradicted either something +he has said himself or what a man of sound sense assumes as true. But +there is no possible apology for improbability of Plot or depravity of +character, when they are not necessary and no use is made of them, +like the improbability in the appearance of Aegeus in _Medea_ and the +baseness of Menelaus in _Orestes_. + +The objections, then, of critics start with faults of five kinds: the +allegation is always that something i.e.ther (1) impossible, (2) +improbable, (3) corrupting, (4) contradictory, or (5) against +technical correctness. The answers to these objections must be sought +under one or other of the above-mentioned heads, which are twelve in +number. + + + + +26 + + +The question may be raised whether the epic or the tragic is the +higher form of imitation. It may be argued that, if the less vulgar is +the higher, and the less vulgar is always that which addresses the +better public, an art addressing any and every one is of a very vulgar +order. It is a belief that their public cannot see the meaning, unless +they add something themselves, that causes the perpetual movements of +the performers--bad flute-players, for instance, rolling about, if +quoit-throwing is to be represented, and pulling at the conductor, if +Scylla is the subject of the piece. Tragedy, then, is said to be an +art of this order--to be in fact just what the later actors were in +the eyes of their predecessors; for Myrmiscus used to call Callippides +'the ape', because he thought he so overacted his parts; and a similar +view was taken of Pindarus also. All Tragedy, however, is said to +stand to the Epic as the newer to the older school of actors. The one, +accordingly, is said to address a cultivated 'audience, which does not +need the accompaniment of gesture; the other, an uncultivated one. If, +therefore, Tragedy is a vulgar art, it must clearly be lower than the +Epic. + +The answer to this is twofold. In the first place, one may urge (1) +that the censure does not touch the art of the dramatic poet, but only +that of his interpreter; for it is quite possible to overdo the +gesturing even in an epic recital, as did Sosistratus, and in a +singing contest, as did Mnasitheus of Opus. (2) That one should not +condemn all movement, unless one means to condemn even the dance, but +only that of ignoble people--which is the point of the criticism +passed on Callippides and in the present day on others, that their +women are not like gentlewomen. (3) That Tragedy may produce its +effect even without movement or action in just the same way as Epic +poetry; for from the mere reading of a play its quality may be seen. +So that, if it be superior in all other respects, thi.e.ement of +inferiority is not a necessary part of it. + +In the second place, one must remember (1) that Tragedy has everything +that the Epic has (even the epic metre being admissible), together +with a not inconsiderable addition in the shape of the Music (a very +real factor in the pleasure of the drama) and the Spectacle. (2) That +its reality of presentation is felt in the play as read, as well as in +the play as acted. (3) That the tragic imitation requires less space +for the attainment of its end; which is a great advantage, since the +more concentrated effect is more pleasurable than one with a large +admixture of time to dilute it--consider the _Oedipus_ of Sophocles, +for instance, and the effect of expanding it into the number of lines +of the _Iliad_. (4) That there is less unity in the imitation of the +epic poets, as is proved by the fact that any one work of theirs +supplies matter for several tragedies; the result being that, if they +take what is really a single story, it seems curt when briefly told, +and thin and waterish when on the scale of length usual with their +verse. In saying that there is less unity in an epic, I mean an epic +made up of a plurality of actions, in the same way as the _Iliad_ and +_Odyssey_ have many such parts, each one of them in itself of some +magnitude; yet the structure of the two Homeric poems is as perfect as +can be, and the action in them is as nearly as possible one action. +If, then, Tragedy is superior in these respects, and also besides +these, in its poeti.e.fect (since the two forms of poetry should give +us, not any or every pleasure, but the very special kind we have +mentioned), it is clear that, as attaining the poeti.e.fect better +than the Epic, it will be the higher form of art. + +So much for Tragedy and Epic poetry--for these two arts in general and +their species; the number and nature of their constituent parts; the +causes of success and failure in them; the Objections of the critics, +and the Solutions in answer to them. + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE POETICS *** + +This file should be named poeti10.txt or poeti10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, poeti11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, poeti10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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