{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_1974/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_1974","id":"gutenberg_1974","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1974","summary":null,"tags":["Aesthetics -- Early works to 1800","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Classical Antiquity","Philosophy","Poetry -- Early works to 1800"],"text":"Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE POETICS OF ARISTOTLE\n\nBy Aristotle\n\nA Translation By S. H. Butcher\n\n\n[Transcriber's Annotations and Conventions: the translator left\nintact some Greek words to illustrate a specific point of the original\ndiscourse. In this transcription, in order to retain the accuracy of\nthis text, those words are rendered by spelling out each Greek letter\nindividually, such as {alpha beta gamma delta...}. The reader can\ndistinguish these words by the enclosing braces {}. Where multiple\nwords occur together, they are separated by the \"/\" symbol for clarity.\nReaders who do not speak or read the Greek language will usually neither\ngain nor lose understanding by skipping over these passages. Those who\nunderstand Greek, however, may gain a deeper insight to the original\nmeaning and distinctions expressed by Aristotle.]\n\n\n\n\nAnalysis of Contents\n\n  I     'Imitation' the common principle of the Arts of Poetry.\n  II    The Objects of Imitation.\n  III   The Manner of Imitation.\n  IV    The Origin and Development of Poetry.\n  V     Definition of the Ludicrous, and a brief sketch of the rise of\n        Comedy.\n  VI    Definition of Tragedy.\n  VII   The Plot must be a Whole.\n  VIII  The Plot must be a Unity.\n  IX    (Plot continued.) Dramatic Unity.\n  X     (Plot continued.) Definitions of Simple and Complex Plots.\n  XI    (Plot continued.) Reversal of the Situation, Recognition, and\n        Tragic or disastrous Incident defined and explained.\n  XII   The 'quantitative parts' of Tragedy defined.\n  XIII  (Plot continued.) What constitutes Tragic Action.\n  XIV   (Plot continued.) The tragic emotions of pity and fear should\n        spring out of the Plot itself.\n  XV    The element of Character in Tragedy.\n  XVI   (Plot continued.) Recognition: its various kinds, with examples.\n  XVII  Practical rules for the Tragic Poet.\n  XVIII Further rules for the Tragic Poet.\n  XIX   Thought, or the Intellectual element, and Diction in Tragedy.\n  XX    Diction, or Language in general.\n  XXI   Poetic Diction.\n  XXII  (Poetic Diction continued.) How Poetry combines elevation of\n        language with perspicuity.\n  XXIII Epic Poetry.\n  XXIV  (Epic Poetry continued.) Further points of agreement with Tragedy.\n  XXV   Critical Objections brought against Poetry, and the principles on\n        which they are to be answered.\n  XXVI  A general estimate of the comparative worth of Epic Poetry and\n        Tragedy.\n\n\n\n\nARISTOTLE'S POETICS\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nI propose to treat of Poetry in itself and of its various kinds, noting\nthe essential quality of each; to inquire into the structure of the plot\nas requisite to a good poem; into the number and nature of the parts of\nwhich a poem is composed; and similarly into whatever else falls within\nthe same inquiry. Following, then, the order of nature, let us begin\nwith the principles which come first.\n\nEpic poetry and Tragedy, Comedy also and Dithyrambic: poetry, and the\nmusic of the flute and of the lyre in most of their forms, are all in\ntheir general conception modes of imitation. They differ, however, from\none: another in three respects,--the medium, the objects, the manner or\nmode of imitation, being in each case distinct.\n\nFor as there are persons who, by conscious art or mere habit, imitate\nand represent various objects through the medium of colour and form, or\nagain by the voice; so in the arts above mentioned, taken as a whole,\nthe imitation is produced by rhythm, language, or 'harmony,' either\nsingly or combined.\n\nThus in the music of the flute and of the lyre, 'harmony' and rhythm\nalone are employed; also in other arts, such as that of the shepherd's\npipe, which are essentially similar to these. In dancing, rhythm alone\nis used without 'harmony'; for even dancing imitates character, emotion,\nand action, by rhythmical movement.\n\nThere is another art which imitates by means of language alone, and\nthat either in prose or verse--which, verse, again, may either combine\ndifferent metres or consist of but one kind--but this has hitherto been\nwithout a name. For there is no common term we could apply to the mimes\nof Sophron and Xenarchus and the Socratic dialogues on the one hand;\nand, on the other, to poetic imitations in iambic, elegiac, or any\nsimilar metre. People do, indeed, add the word 'maker' or 'poet' to\nthe name of the metre, and speak of elegiac poets, or epic (that is,\nhexameter) poets, as if it were not the imitation that makes the poet,\nbut the verse that entitles them all indiscriminately to the name. Even\nwhen a treatise on medicine or natural science is brought out in verse,\nthe name of poet is by custom given to the author; and yet Homer and\nEmpedocles have nothing in common but the metre, so that it would be\nright to call the one poet, the other physicist rather than poet. On the\nsame principle, even if a writer in his poetic imitation were to combine\nall metres, as Chaeremon did in his Centaur, which is a medley composed\nof metres of all kinds, we should bring him too under the general term\npoet. So much then for these distinctions.\n\nThere are, again, some arts which employ all the means above mentioned,\nnamely, rhythm, tune, and metre. Such are Dithyrambic and Nomic poetry,\nand also Tragedy and Comedy; but between them the difference is, that in\nthe first two cases these means are all employed in combination, in the\nlatter, now one means is employed, now another.\n\nSuch, then, are the differences of the arts with respect to the medium\nof imitation.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nSince the objects of imitation are men in action, and these men must be\neither of a higher or a lower type (for moral character mainly answers\nto these divisions, goodness and badness being the distinguishing marks\nof moral differences), it follows that we must represent men either as\nbetter than in real life, or as worse, or as they are. It is the same\nin painting. Polygnotus depicted men as nobler than they are, Pauson as\nless noble, Dionysius drew them true to life.\n\nNow it is evident that each of the modes of imitation above mentioned\nwill exhibit these differences, and become a distinct kind in imitating\nobjects that are thus distinct. Such diversities may be found even in\ndancing, flute-playing, and lyre-playing. So again in language, whether\nprose or verse unaccompanied by music. Homer, for example, makes men\nbetter than they are; Cleophon as they are; Hegemon the Thasian, the\ninventor of parodies, and Nicochares, the author of the Deiliad, worse\nthan they are. The same thing holds good of Dithyrambs and Nomes;\nhere too one may portray different types, as Timotheus and Philoxenus\ndiffered in representing their Cyclopes. The same distinction marks\noff Tragedy from Comedy; for Comedy aims at representing men as worse,\nTragedy as better than in actual life.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nThere is still a third difference--the manner in which each of these\nobjects may be imitated. For the medium being the same, and the objects\nthe same, the poet may imitate by narration--in which case he can either\ntake another personality as Homer does, or speak in his own person,\nunchanged--or he may present all his characters as living and moving\nbefore us.\n\nThese, then, as we said at the beginning, are the three differences\nwhich distinguish artistic imitation,--the medium, the objects, and the\nmanner. So that from one point of view, Sophocles is an imitator of the\nsame kind as Homer--for both imitate higher types of character; from\nanother point of view, of the same kind as Aristophanes--for both\nimitate persons acting and doing. Hence, some say, the name of 'drama'\nis given to such poems, as representing action. For the same reason the\nDorians claim the invention both of Tragedy and Comedy. The claim to\nComedy is put forward by the Megarians,--not only by those of Greece\nproper, who allege that it originated under their democracy, but also\nby the Megarians of Sicily, for the poet Epicharmus, who is much earlier\nthan Chionides and Magnes, belonged to that country. Tragedy too is\nclaimed by certain Dorians of the Peloponnese. In each case they appeal\nto the evidence of language. The outlying villages, they say, are by\nthem called {kappa omega mu alpha iota}, by the Athenians {delta eta\nmu iota}: and they assume that Comedians were so named not from {kappa\nomega mu 'alpha zeta epsilon iota nu}, 'to revel,' but because they\nwandered from village to village (kappa alpha tau alpha / kappa omega mu\nalpha sigma), being excluded contemptuously from the city. They add\nalso that the Dorian word for 'doing' is {delta rho alpha nu}, and the\nAthenian, {pi rho alpha tau tau epsilon iota nu}.\n\nThis may suffice as to the number and nature of the various modes of\nimitation.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nPoetry in general seems to have sprung from two causes, each of them\nlying deep in our nature. First, the instinct of imitation is implanted\nin man from childhood, one difference between him and other animals\nbeing that he is the most imitative of living creatures, and through\nimitation learns his earliest lessons; and no less universal is the\npleasure felt in things imitated. We have evidence of this in the facts\nof experience. Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight\nto contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms\nof the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause of this again\nis, that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers\nbut to men in general; whose capacity, however, of learning is more\nlimited. Thus the reason why men enjoy seeing a likeness is, that in\ncontemplating it they find themselves learning or inferring, and saying\nperhaps, 'Ah, that is he.' For if you happen not to have seen the\noriginal, the pleasure will be due not to the imitation as such, but to\nthe execution, the colouring, or some such other cause.\n\nImitation, then, is one instinct of our nature. Next, there is the\ninstinct for 'harmony' and rhythm, metres being manifestly sections of\nrhythm. Persons, therefore, starting with this natural gift developed\nby degrees their special aptitudes, till their rude improvisations gave\nbirth to Poetry.\n\nPoetry now diverged in two directions, according to the individual\ncharacter of the writers. The graver spirits imitated noble actions, and\nthe actions of good men. The more trivial sort imitated the actions of\nmeaner persons, at first composing satires, as the former did hymns to\nthe gods and the praises of famous men. A poem of the satirical kind\ncannot indeed be put down to any author earlier than Homer; though many\nsuch writers probably there were. But from Homer onward, instances\ncan be cited,--his own Margites, for example, and other similar\ncompositions. The appropriate metre was also here introduced; hence the\nmeasure is still called the iambic or lampooning measure, being that\nin which people lampooned one another. Thus the older poets were\ndistinguished as writers of heroic or of lampooning verse.\n\nAs, in the serious style, Homer is pre-eminent among poets, for he alone\ncombined dramatic form with excellence of imitation, so he too first\nlaid down the main lines of Comedy, by dramatising the ludicrous instead\nof writing personal satire. His Margites bears the same relation to\nComedy that the Iliad and Odyssey do to Tragedy. But when Tragedy and\nComedy came to light, the two classes of poets still followed their\nnatural bent: the lampooners became writers of Comedy, and the Epic\npoets were succeeded by Tragedians, since the drama was a larger and\nhigher form of art.\n\nWhether Tragedy has as yet perfected its proper types or not; and\nwhether it is to be judged in itself, or in relation also to the\naudience,--this raises another question. Be that as it may, Tragedy--as\nalso Comedy--was at first mere improvisation. The one originated with\nthe authors of the Dithyramb, the other with those of the phallic songs,\nwhich are still in use in many of our cities. Tragedy advanced by slow\ndegrees; each new element that showed itself was in turn developed.\nHaving passed through many changes, it found its natural form, and there\nit stopped.\n\nAeschylus first introduced a second actor; he diminished the importance\nof the Chorus, and assigned the leading part to the dialogue. Sophocles\nraised the number of actors to three, and added scene-painting.\nMoreover, it was not till late that the short plot was discarded for\none of greater compass, and the grotesque diction of the earlier satyric\nform for the stately manner of Tragedy. The iambic measure then replaced\nthe trochaic tetrameter, which was originally employed when the poetry\nwas of the Satyric order, and had greater affinities with dancing. Once\ndialogue had come in, Nature herself discovered the appropriate measure.\nFor the iambic is, of all measures, the most colloquial: we see it\nin the fact that conversational speech runs into iambic lines more\nfrequently than into any other kind of verse; rarely into hexameters,\nand only when we drop the colloquial intonation. The additions to\nthe number of 'episodes' or acts, and the other accessories of which\ntradition; tells, must be taken as already described; for to discuss\nthem in detail would, doubtless, be a large undertaking.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nComedy is, as we have said, an imitation of characters of a lower type,\nnot, however, in the full sense of the word bad, the Ludicrous being\nmerely a subdivision of the ugly. It consists in some defect or ugliness\nwhich is not painful or destructive. To take an obvious example, the\ncomic mask is ugly and distorted, but does not imply pain.\n\nThe successive changes through which Tragedy passed, and the authors\nof these changes, are well known, whereas Comedy has had no history,\nbecause it was not at first treated seriously. It was late before the\nArchon granted a comic chorus to a poet; the performers were till then\nvoluntary. Comedy had already taken definite shape when comic poets,\ndistinctively so called, are heard of. Who furnished it with masks, or\nprologues, or increased the number of actors,--these and other similar\ndetails remain unknown. As for the plot, it came originally from\nSicily; but of Athenian writers Crates was the first who, abandoning the\n'iambic' or lampooning form, generalised his themes and plots.\n\nEpic poetry agrees with Tragedy in so far as it is an imitation in verse\nof characters of a higher type. They differ, in that Epic poetry admits\nbut one kind of metre, and is narrative in form. They differ, again,\nin their length: for Tragedy endeavours, as far as possible, to confine\nitself to a single revolution of the sun, or but slightly to exceed this\nlimit; whereas the Epic action has no limits of time. This, then, is\na second point of difference; though at first the same freedom was\nadmitted in Tragedy as in Epic poetry.\n\nOf their constituent parts some are common to both, some peculiar to\nTragedy, whoever, therefore, knows what is good or bad Tragedy, knows\nalso about Epic poetry. All the elements of an Epic poem are found in\nTragedy, but the elements of a Tragedy are not all found in the Epic\npoem.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nOf the poetry which imitates in hexameter verse, and of Comedy, we\nwill speak hereafter. Let us now discuss Tragedy, resuming its formal\ndefinition, as resulting from what has been already said.\n\nTragedy, then, is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete,\nand of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of\nartistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separate parts of\nthe play; in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and\nfear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions. By 'language\nembellished,' I mean language into which rhythm, 'harmony,' and song\nenter. By 'the several kinds in separate parts,' I mean, that some parts\nare rendered through the medium of verse alone, others again with the\naid of song.\n\nNow as tragic imitation implies persons acting, it necessarily follows,\nin the first place, that Spectacular equipment will be a part of\nTragedy. Next, Song and Diction, for these are the medium of imitation.\nBy 'Diction' I mean the mere metrical arrangement of the words: as for\n'Song,' it is a term whose sense every one understands.\n\nAgain, Tragedy is the imitation of an action; and an action implies\npersonal agents, who necessarily possess certain distinctive qualities\nboth of character and thought; for it is by these that we qualify\nactions themselves, and these--thought and character--are the two\nnatural causes from which actions spring, and on actions again all\nsuccess or failure depends. Hence, the Plot is the imitation of the\naction: for by plot I here mean the arrangement of the incidents. By\nCharacter I mean that in virtue of which we ascribe certain qualities to\nthe agents. Thought is required wherever a statement is proved, or, it\nmay be, a general truth enunciated. Every Tragedy, therefore, must have\nsix parts, which parts determine its quality--namely, Plot, Character,\nDiction, Thought, Spectacle, Song. Two of the parts constitute the\nmedium of imitation, one the manner, and three the objects of imitation.\nAnd these complete the list. These elements have been employed, we may\nsay, by the poets to a man; in fact, every play contains Spectacular\nelements as well as Character, Plot, Diction, Song, and Thought.\n\nBut most important of all is the structure of the incidents. For Tragedy\nis an imitation, not of men, but of an action and of life, and life\nconsists in action, and its end is a mode of action, not a quality. Now\ncharacter determines men's qualities, but it is by their actions that\nthey are happy or the reverse. Dramatic action, therefore, is not with\na view to the representation of character: character comes in as\nsubsidiary to the actions. Hence the incidents and the plot are the\nend of a tragedy; and the end is the chief thing of all. Again, without\naction there cannot be a tragedy; there may be without character.\nThe tragedies of most of our modern poets fail in the rendering of\ncharacter; and of poets in general this is often true. It is the same\nin painting; and here lies the difference between Zeuxis and Polygnotus.\nPolygnotus delineates character well: the style of Zeuxis is devoid\nof ethical quality. Again, if you string together a set of speeches\nexpressive of character, and well finished in point of diction and\nthought, you will not produce the essential tragic effect nearly so well\nas with a play which, however deficient in these respects, yet has a\nplot and artistically constructed incidents. Besides which, the most\npowerful elements of emotional: interest in Tragedy Peripeteia or\nReversal of the Situation, and Recognition scenes--are parts of the\nplot. A further proof is, that novices in the art attain to finish: of\ndiction and precision of portraiture before they can construct the plot.\nIt is the same with almost all the early poets.\n\nThe Plot, then, is the first principle, and, as it were, the soul of\na tragedy: Character holds the second place. A similar fact is seen in\npainting. The most beautiful colours, laid on confusedly, will not give\nas much pleasure as the chalk outline of a portrait. Thus Tragedy is\nthe imitation of an action, and of the agents mainly with a view to the\naction.\n\nThird in order is Thought,--that is, the faculty of saying what is\npossible and pertinent in given circumstances. In the case of oratory,\nthis is the function of the Political art and of the art of rhetoric:\nand so indeed the older poets make their characters speak the language\nof civic life; the poets of our time, the language of the rhetoricians.\nCharacter is that which reveals moral purpose, showing what kind of\nthings a man chooses or avoids. Speeches, therefore, which do not make\nthis manifest, or in which the speaker does not choose or avoid anything\nwhatever, are not expressive of character. Thought, on the other hand,\nis found where something is proved to be, or not to be, or a general\nmaxim is enunciated.\n\nFourth among the elements enumerated comes Diction; by which I mean, as\nhas been already said, the expression of the meaning in words; and its\nessence is the same both in verse and prose.\n\nOf the remaining elements Song holds the chief place among the\nembellishments.\n\nThe Spectacle has, indeed, an emotional attraction of its own, but, of\nall the parts, it is the least artistic, and connected least with the\nart of poetry. For the power of Tragedy, we may be sure, is felt\neven apart from representation and actors. Besides, the production of\nspectacular effects depends more on the art of the stage machinist than\non that of the poet.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nThese principles being established, let us now discuss the proper\nstructure of the Plot, since this is the first and most important thing\nin Tragedy.\n\nNow, according to our definition, Tragedy is an imitation of an action\nthat is complete, and whole, and of a certain magnitude; for there may\nbe a whole that is wanting in magnitude. A whole is that which has a\nbeginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning is that which does not\nitself follow anything by causal necessity, but after which something\nnaturally is or comes to be. An end, on the contrary, is that which\nitself naturally follows some other thing, either by necessity, or as\na rule, but has nothing following it. A middle is that which follows\nsomething as some other thing follows it. A well constructed plot,\ntherefore, must neither begin nor end at haphazard, but conform to these\nprinciples.\n\nAgain, a beautiful object, whether it be a living organism or any whole\ncomposed of parts, must not only have an orderly arrangement of parts,\nbut must also be of a certain magnitude; for beauty depends on magnitude\nand order. Hence a very small animal organism cannot be beautiful;\nfor the view of it is confused, the object being seen in an almost\nimperceptible moment of time. Nor, again, can one of vast size be\nbeautiful; for as the eye cannot take it all in at once, the unity and\nsense of the whole is lost for the spectator; as for instance if there\nwere one a thousand miles long. As, therefore, in the case of animate\nbodies and organisms a certain magnitude is necessary, and a magnitude\nwhich may be easily embraced in one view; so in the plot, a certain\nlength is necessary, and a length which can be easily embraced by the\nmemory. The limit of length in relation to dramatic competition and\nsensuous presentment, is no part of artistic theory. For had it been the\nrule for a hundred tragedies to compete together, the performance would\nhave been regulated by the water-clock,--as indeed we are told was\nformerly done. But the limit as fixed by the nature of the drama itself\nis this: the greater the length, the more beautiful will the piece be\nby reason of its size, provided that the whole be perspicuous. And\nto define the matter roughly, we may say that the proper magnitude is\ncomprised within such limits, that the sequence of events, according\nto the law of probability or necessity, will admit of a change from bad\nfortune to good, or from good fortune to bad.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nUnity of plot does not, as some persons think, consist in the Unity of\nthe hero. For infinitely various are the incidents in one man's life\nwhich cannot be reduced to unity; and so, too, there are many actions of\none man out of which we cannot make one action. Hence, the error, as it\nappears, of all poets who have composed a Heracleid, a Theseid, or other\npoems of the kind. They imagine that as Heracles was one man, the story\nof Heracles must also be a unity. But Homer, as in all else he is of\nsurpassing merit, here too--whether from art or natural genius--seems\nto have happily discerned the truth. In composing the Odyssey he did not\ninclude all the adventures of Odysseus--such as his wound on Parnassus,\nor his feigned madness at the mustering of the host--incidents between\nwhich there was no necessary or probable connection: but he made the\nOdyssey, and likewise the Iliad, to centre round an action that in our\nsense of the word is one. As therefore, in the other imitative arts, the\nimitation is one when the object imitated is one, so the plot, being an\nimitation of an action, must imitate one action and that a whole, the\nstructural union of the parts being such that, if any one of them is\ndisplaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and disturbed. For a\nthing whose presence or absence makes no visible difference, is not an\norganic part of the whole.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nIt is, moreover, evident from what has been said, that it is not\nthe function of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may\nhappen,--what is possible according to the law of probability or\nnecessity. The poet and the historian differ not by writing in verse or\nin prose. The work of Herodotus might be put into verse, and it would\nstill be a species of history, with metre no less than without it. The\ntrue difference is that one relates what has happened, the other what\nmay happen. Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher\nthing than history: for poetry tends to express the universal, history\nthe particular. By the universal, I mean how a person of a certain type\nwill on occasion speak or act, according to the law of probability or\nnecessity; and it is this universality at which poetry aims in the names\nshe attaches to the personages. The particular is--for example--what\nAlcibiades did or suffered. In Comedy this is already apparent: for here\nthe poet first constructs the plot on the lines of probability, and then\ninserts characteristic names;--unlike the lampooners who write about\nparticular individuals. But tragedians still keep to real names, the\nreason being that what is possible is credible: what has not happened\nwe do not at once feel sure to be possible: but what has happened is\nmanifestly possible: otherwise it would not have happened. Still there\nare even some tragedies in which there are only one or two well known\nnames, the rest being fictitious. In others, none are well known, as in\nAgathon's Antheus, where incidents and names alike are fictitious, and\nyet they give none the less pleasure. We must not, therefore, at all\ncosts keep to the received legends, which are the usual subjects of\nTragedy. Indeed, it would be absurd to attempt it; for even subjects\nthat are known are known only to a few, and yet give pleasure to all.\nIt clearly follows that the poet or 'maker' should be the maker of plots\nrather than of verses; since he is a poet because he imitates, and what\nhe imitates are actions. And even if he chances to take an historical\nsubject, he is none the less a poet; for there is no reason why some\nevents that have actually happened should not conform to the law of the\nprobable and possible, and in virtue of that quality in them he is their\npoet or maker.\n\nOf all plots and actions the epeisodic are the worst. I call a plot\n'epeisodic' in which the episodes or acts succeed one another without\nprobable or necessary sequence. Bad poets compose such pieces by their\nown fault, good poets, to please the players; for, as they write show\npieces for competition, they stretch the plot beyond its capacity, and\nare often forced to break the natural continuity.\n\nBut again, Tragedy is an imitation not only of a complete action, but of\nevents inspiring fear or pity. Such an effect is best produced when the\nevents come on us by surprise; and the effect is heightened when, at the\nsame time, they follow as cause and effect. The tragic wonder will thee\nbe greater than if they happened of themselves or by accident; for even\ncoincidences are most striking when they have an air of design. We may\ninstance the statue of Mitys at Argos, which fell upon his murderer\nwhile he was a spectator at a festival, and killed him. Such events seem\nnot to be due to mere chance. Plots, therefore, constructed on these\nprinciples are necessarily the best.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nPlots are either Simple or Complex, for the actions in real life, of\nwhich the plots are an imitation, obviously show a similar distinction.\nAn action which is one and continuous in the sense above defined, I call\nSimple, when the change of fortune takes place without Reversal of the\nSituation and without Recognition.\n\nA Complex action is one in which the change is accompanied by such\nReversal, or by Recognition, or by both. These last should arise from\nthe internal structure of the plot, so that what follows should be the\nnecessary or probable result of the preceding action. It makes all the\ndifference whether any given event is a case of propter hoc or post hoc.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nReversal of the Situation is a change by which the action veers round\nto its opposite, subject always to our rule of probability or necessity.\nThus in the Oedipus, the messenger comes to cheer Oedipus and free\nhim from his alarms about his mother, but by revealing who he is, he\nproduces the opposite effect. Again in the Lynceus, Lynceus is being led\naway to his death, and Danaus goes with him, meaning, to slay him; but\nthe outcome of the preceding incidents is that Danaus is killed and\nLynceus saved. Recognition, as the name indicates, is a change from\nignorance to knowledge, producing love or hate between the persons\ndestined by the poet for good or bad fortune. The best form of\nrecognition is coincident with a Reversal of the Situation, as in the\nOedipus. There are indeed other forms. Even inanimate things of the most\ntrivial kind may in a sense be objects of recognition. Again, we may\nrecognise or discover whether a person has done a thing or not. But the\nrecognition which is most intimately connected with the plot and action\nis, as we have said, the recognition of persons. This recognition,\ncombined, with Reversal, will produce either pity or fear; and actions\nproducing these effects are those which, by our definition, Tragedy\nrepresents. Moreover, it is upon such situations that the issues of good\nor bad fortune will depend. Recognition, then, being between persons,\nit may happen that one person only is recognised by the other-when the\nlatter is already known--or it may be necessary that the recognition\nshould be on both sides. Thus Iphigenia is revealed to Orestes by the\nsending of the letter; but another act of recognition is required to\nmake Orestes known to Iphigenia.\n\nTwo parts, then, of the Plot--Reversal of the Situation and\nRecognition--turn upon surprises. A third part is the Scene of\nSuffering. The Scene of Suffering is a destructive or painful action,\nsuch as death on the stage, bodily agony, wounds and the like.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n[The parts of Tragedy which must be treated as elements of the whole\nhave been already mentioned. We now come to the quantitative parts,\nand the separate parts into which Tragedy is divided, namely, Prologue,\nEpisode, Exode, Choric song; this last being divided into Parode and\nStasimon. These are common to all plays: peculiar to some are the songs\nof actors from the stage and the Commoi.\n\nThe Prologue is that entire part of a tragedy which precedes the Parode\nof the Chorus. The Episode is that entire part of a tragedy which\nis between complete choric songs. The Exode is that entire part of a\ntragedy which has no choric song after it. Of the Choric part the Parode\nis the first undivided utterance of the Chorus: the Stasimon is a Choric\node without anapaests or trochaic tetrameters: the Commos is a joint\nlamentation of Chorus and actors. The parts of Tragedy which must\nbe treated as elements of the whole have been already mentioned. The\nquantitative parts the separate parts into which it is divided--are here\nenumerated.]\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nAs the sequel to what has already been said, we must proceed to consider\nwhat the poet should aim at, and what he should avoid, in constructing\nhis plots; and by what means the specific effect of Tragedy will be\nproduced.\n\nA perfect tragedy should, as we have seen, be arranged not on the simple\nbut on the complex plan. It should, moreover, imitate actions which\nexcite pity and fear, this being the distinctive mark of tragic\nimitation. It follows plainly, in the first place, that the change, of\nfortune presented must not be the spectacle of a virtuous man brought\nfrom prosperity to adversity: for this moves neither pity nor fear; it\nmerely shocks us. Nor, again, that of a bad man passing from adversity\nto prosperity: for nothing can be more alien to the spirit of Tragedy;\nit possesses no single tragic quality; it neither satisfies the moral\nsense nor calls forth pity or fear. Nor, again, should the downfall of\nthe utter villain be exhibited. A plot of this kind would, doubtless,\nsatisfy the moral sense, but it would inspire neither pity nor fear; for\npity is aroused by unmerited misfortune, fear by the misfortune of a man\nlike ourselves. Such an event, therefore, will be neither pitiful\nnor terrible. There remains, then, the character between these two\nextremes,--that of a man who is not eminently good and just,-yet whose\nmisfortune is brought about not by vice or depravity, but by some error\nor frailty. He must be one who is highly renowned and prosperous,--a\npersonage like Oedipus, Thyestes, or other illustrious men of such\nfamilies.\n\nA well constructed plot should, therefore, be single in its issue,\nrather than double as some maintain. The change of fortune should be not\nfrom bad to good, but, reversely, from good to bad. It should come about\nas the result not of vice, but of some great error or frailty, in a\ncharacter either such as we have described, or better rather than\nworse. The practice of the stage bears out our view. At first the poets\nrecounted any legend that came in their way. Now, the best tragedies\nare founded on the story of a few houses, on the fortunes of Alcmaeon,\nOedipus, Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Telephus, and those others who\nhave done or suffered something terrible. A tragedy, then, to be perfect\naccording to the rules of art should be of this construction. Hence\nthey are in error who censure Euripides just because he follows this\nprinciple in his plays, many of which end unhappily. It is, as we have\nsaid, the right ending. The best proof is that on the stage and in\ndramatic competition, such plays, if well worked out, are the most\ntragic in effect; and Euripides, faulty though he may be in the general\nmanagement of his subject, yet is felt to be the most tragic of the\npoets.\n\nIn the second rank comes the kind of tragedy which some place first.\nLike the Odyssey, it has a double thread of plot, and also an opposite\ncatastrophe for the good and for the bad. It is accounted the best\nbecause of the weakness of the spectators; for the poet is guided in\nwhat he writes by the wishes of his audience. The pleasure, however,\nthence derived is not the true tragic pleasure. It is proper rather to\nComedy, where those who, in the piece, are the deadliest enemies--like\nOrestes and Aegisthus--quit the stage as friends at the close, and no\none slays or is slain.\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nFear and pity may be aroused by spectacular means; but they may also\nresult from the inner structure of the piece, which is the better way,\nand indicates a superior poet. For the plot ought to be so constructed\nthat, even without the aid of the eye, he who hears the tale told will\nthrill with horror and melt to pity at what takes place. This is the\nimpression we should receive from hearing the story of the Oedipus. But\nto produce this effect by the mere spectacle is a less artistic method,\nand dependent on extraneous aids. Those who employ spectacular means\nto create a sense not of the terrible but only of the monstrous, are\nstrangers to the purpose of Tragedy; for we must not demand of Tragedy\nany and every kind of pleasure, but only that which is proper to it. And\nsince the pleasure which the poet should afford is that which comes from\npity and fear through imitation, it is evident that this quality must be\nimpressed upon the incidents.\n\nLet us then determine what are the circumstances which strike us as\nterrible or pitiful.\n\nActions capable of this effect must happen between persons who are\neither friends or enemies or indifferent to one another. If an enemy\nkills an enemy, there is nothing to excite pity either in the act or\nthe intention,--except so far as the suffering in itself is pitiful.\nSo again with indifferent persons. But when the tragic incident occurs\nbetween those who are near or dear to one another--if, for example, a\nbrother kills, or intends to kill, a brother, a son his father, a mother\nher son, a son his mother, or any other deed of the kind is done--these\nare the situations to be looked for by the poet. He may not indeed\ndestroy the framework of the received legends--the fact, for instance,\nthat Clytemnestra was slain by Orestes and Eriphyle by Alcmaeon but he\nought to show invention of his own, and skilfully handle the traditional\nmaterial. Let us explain more clearly what is meant by skilful handling.\n\nThe action may be done consciously and with knowledge of the persons, in\nthe manner of the older poets. It is thus too that Euripides makes Medea\nslay her children. Or, again, the deed of horror may be done, but\ndone in ignorance, and the tie of kinship or friendship be discovered\nafterwards. The Oedipus of Sophocles is an example. Here, indeed, the\nincident is outside the drama proper; but cases occur where it falls\nwithin the action of the play: one may cite the Alcmaeon of Astydamas,\nor Telegonus in the Wounded Odysseus. Again, there is a third case,--<to\nbe about to act with knowledge of the persons and then not to act. The\nfourth case is> when some one is about to do an irreparable deed through\nignorance, and makes the discovery before it is done. These are the only\npossible ways. For the deed must either be done or not done,--and that\nwittingly or unwittingly. But of all these ways, to be about to act\nknowing the persons, and then not to act, is the worst. It is shocking\nwithout being tragic, for no disaster follows. It is, therefore, never,\nor very rarely, found in poetry. One instance, however, is in the\nAntigone, where Haemon threatens to kill Creon. The next and better way\nis that the deed should be perpetrated. Still better, that it should be\nperpetrated in ignorance, and the discovery made afterwards. There\nis then nothing to shock us, while the discovery produces a startling\neffect. The last case is the best, as when in the Cresphontes Merope is\nabout to slay her son, but, recognising who he is, spares his life. So\nin the Iphigenia, the sister recognises the brother just in time. Again\nin the Helle, the son recognises the mother when on the point of giving\nher up. This, then, is why a few families only, as has been already\nobserved, furnish the subjects of tragedy. It was not art, but happy\nchance, that led the poets in search of subjects to impress the tragic\nquality upon their plots. They are compelled, therefore, to have\nrecourse to those houses whose history contains moving incidents like\nthese.\n\nEnough has now been said concerning the structure of the incidents, and\nthe right kind of plot.\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nIn respect of Character there are four things to be aimed at. First, and\nmost important, it must be good. Now any speech or action that manifests\nmoral purpose of any kind will be expressive of character: the character\nwill be good if the purpose is good. This rule is relative to each\nclass. Even a woman may be good, and also a slave; though the woman\nmay be said to be an inferior being, and the slave quite worthless. The\nsecond thing to aim at is propriety. There is a type of manly valour;\nbut valour in a woman, or unscrupulous cleverness, is inappropriate.\nThirdly, character must be true to life: for this is a distinct thing\nfrom goodness and propriety, as here described. The fourth point is\nconsistency: for though the subject of the imitation, who suggested the\ntype, be inconsistent, still he must be consistently inconsistent. As an\nexample of motiveless degradation of character, we have Menelaus in\nthe Orestes: of character indecorous and inappropriate, the lament of\nOdysseus in the Scylla, and the speech of Melanippe: of inconsistency,\nthe Iphigenia at Aulis,--for Iphigenia the suppliant in no way resembles\nher later self.\n\nAs in the structure of the plot, so too in the portraiture of character,\nthe poet should always aim either at the necessary or the probable. Thus\na person of a given character should speak or act in a given way, by the\nrule either of necessity or of probability; just as this event should\nfollow that by necessary or probable sequence. It is therefore evident\nthat the unravelling of the plot, no less than the complication, must\narise out of the plot itself, it must not be brought about by the 'Deus\nex Machina'--as in the Medea, or in the Return of the Greeks in the\nIliad. The 'Deus ex Machina' should be employed only for events external\nto the drama,--for antecedent or subsequent events, which lie beyond the\nrange of human knowledge, and which require to be reported or foretold;\nfor to the gods we ascribe the power of seeing all things. Within the\naction there must be nothing irrational. If the irrational cannot be\nexcluded, it should be outside the scope of the tragedy. Such is the\nirrational element in the Oedipus of Sophocles.\n\nAgain, since Tragedy is an imitation of persons who are above the common\nlevel, the example of good portrait-painters should be followed. They,\nwhile reproducing the distinctive form of the original, make a likeness\nwhich is true to life and yet more beautiful. So too the poet, in\nrepresenting men who are irascible or indolent, or have other defects\nof character, should preserve the type and yet ennoble it. In this way\nAchilles is portrayed by Agathon and Homer.\n\nThese then are rules the poet should observe. Nor should he neglect\nthose appeals to the senses, which, though not among the essentials, are\nthe concomitants of poetry; for here too there is much room for error.\nBut of this enough has been said in our published treatises.\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nWhat Recognition is has been already explained. We will now enumerate\nits kinds.\n\nFirst, the least artistic form, which, from poverty of wit, is\nmost commonly employed recognition by signs. Of these some are\ncongenital,--such as 'the spear which the earth-born race bear on their\nbodies,' or the stars introduced by Carcinus in his Thyestes. Others are\nacquired after birth; and of these some are bodily marks, as scars; some\nexternal tokens, as necklaces, or the little ark in the Tyro by which\nthe discovery is effected. Even these admit of more or less skilful\ntreatment. Thus in the recognition of Odysseus by his scar, the\ndiscovery is made in one way by the nurse, in another by the swineherds.\nThe use of tokens for the express purpose of proof--and, indeed,\nany formal proof with or without tokens--is a less artistic mode of\nrecognition. A better kind is that which comes about by a turn of\nincident, as in the Bath Scene in the Odyssey.\n\nNext come the recognitions invented at will by the poet, and on that\naccount wanting in art. For example, Orestes in the Iphigenia reveals\nthe fact that he is Orestes. She, indeed, makes herself known by the\nletter; but he, by speaking himself, and saying what the poet, not what\nthe plot requires. This, therefore, is nearly allied to the fault above\nmentioned:--for Orestes might as well have brought tokens with him.\nAnother similar instance is the 'voice of the shuttle' in the Tereus of\nSophocles.\n\nThe third kind depends on memory when the sight of some object awakens\na feeling: as in the Cyprians of Dicaeogenes, where the hero breaks into\ntears on seeing the picture; or again in the 'Lay of Alcinous,' where\nOdysseus, hearing the minstrel play the lyre, recalls the past and\nweeps; and hence the recognition.\n\nThe fourth kind is by process of reasoning. Thus in the Choephori: 'Some\none resembling me has come: no one resembles me but Orestes: therefore\nOrestes has come.' Such too is the discovery made by Iphigenia in the\nplay of Polyidus the Sophist. It was a natural reflection for Orestes to\nmake, 'So I too must die at the altar like my sister.' So, again, in\nthe Tydeus of Theodectes, the father says, 'I came to find my son, and\nI lose my own life.' So too in the Phineidae: the women, on seeing the\nplace, inferred their fate:--'Here we are doomed to die, for here\nwe were cast forth.' Again, there is a composite kind of recognition\ninvolving false inference on the part of one of the characters, as in\nthe Odysseus Disguised as a Messenger. A said <that no one else was able\nto bend the bow;... hence B (the disguised Odysseus) imagined that A\nwould> recognise the bow which, in fact, he had not seen; and to bring\nabout a recognition by this means that the expectation A would recognise\nthe bow is false inference.\n\nBut, of all recognitions, the best is that which arises from the\nincidents themselves, where the startling discovery is made by natural\nmeans. Such is that in the Oedipus of Sophocles, and in the Iphigenia;\nfor it was natural that Iphigenia should wish to dispatch a letter.\nThese recognitions alone dispense with the artificial aid of tokens or\namulets. Next come the recognitions by process of reasoning.\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nIn constructing the plot and working it out with the proper diction,\nthe poet should place the scene, as far as possible, before his eyes. In\nthis way, seeing everything with the utmost vividness, as if he were a\nspectator of the action, he will discover what is in keeping with it,\nand be most unlikely to overlook inconsistencies. The need of such a\nrule is shown by the fault found in Carcinus. Amphiaraus was on his way\nfrom the temple. This fact escaped the observation of one who did not\nsee the situation. On the stage, however, the piece failed, the audience\nbeing offended at the oversight.\n\nAgain, the poet should work out his play, to the best of his power, with\nappropriate gestures; for those who feel emotion are most convincing\nthrough natural sympathy with the characters they represent; and one\nwho is agitated storms, one who is angry rages, with the most life-like\nreality. Hence poetry implies either a happy gift of nature or a strain\nof madness. In the one case a man can take the mould of any character;\nin the other, he is lifted out of his proper self.\n\nAs for the story, whether the poet takes it ready made or constructs it\nfor himself, he should first sketch its general outline, and then\nfill in the episodes and amplify in detail. The general plan may be\nillustrated by the Iphigenia. A young girl is sacrificed; she disappears\nmysteriously from the eyes of those who sacrificed her; She is\ntransported to another country, where the custom is to offer up all\nstrangers to the goddess. To this ministry she is appointed. Some time\nlater her own brother chances to arrive. The fact that the oracle for\nsome reason ordered him to go there, is outside the general plan of the\nplay. The purpose, again, of his coming is outside the action proper.\nHowever, he comes, he is seized, and, when on the point of being\nsacrificed, reveals who he is. The mode of recognition may be either\nthat of Euripides or of Polyidus, in whose play he exclaims very\nnaturally:--'So it was not my sister only, but I too, who was doomed to\nbe sacrificed'; and by that remark he is saved.\n\nAfter this, the names being once given, it remains to fill in the\nepisodes. We must see that they are relevant to the action. In the case\nof Orestes, for example, there is the madness which led to his capture,\nand his deliverance by means of the purificatory rite. In the drama, the\nepisodes are short, but it is these that give extension to Epic poetry.\nThus the story of the Odyssey can be stated briefly. A certain man is\nabsent from home for many years; he is jealously watched by Poseidon,\nand left desolate. Meanwhile his home is in a wretched plight--suitors\nare wasting his substance and plotting against his son. At length,\ntempest-tost, he himself arrives; he makes certain persons acquainted\nwith him; he attacks the suitors with his own hand, and is himself\npreserved while he destroys them. This is the essence of the plot; the\nrest is episode.\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nEvery tragedy falls into two parts,--Complication and Unravelling or\nDenouement. Incidents extraneous to the action are frequently combined\nwith a portion of the action proper, to form the Complication; the rest\nis the Unravelling. By the Complication I mean all that extends from\nthe beginning of the action to the part which marks the turning-point\nto good or bad fortune. The Unravelling is that which extends from the\nbeginning of the change to the end. Thus, in the Lynceus of Theodectes,\nthe Complication consists of the incidents presupposed in the drama, the\nseizure of the child, and then again, The Unravelling extends from\nthe accusation of murder to the end.\n\nThere are four kinds of Tragedy, the Complex, depending entirely on\nReversal of the Situation and Recognition; the Pathetic (where the\nmotive is passion),--such as the tragedies on Ajax and Ixion; the\nEthical (where the motives are ethical),--such as the Phthiotides and\nthe Peleus. The fourth kind is the Simple <We here exclude the purely\nspectacular element>, exemplified by the Phorcides, the Prometheus, and\nscenes laid in Hades. The poet should endeavour, if possible, to combine\nall poetic elements; or failing that, the greatest number and those the\nmost important; the more so, in face of the cavilling criticism of the\nday. For whereas there have hitherto been good poets, each in his own\nbranch, the critics now expect one man to surpass all others in their\nseveral lines of excellence.\n\nIn speaking of a tragedy as the same or different, the best test to take\nis the plot. Identity exists where the Complication and Unravelling are\nthe same. Many poets tie the knot well, but unravel it ill. Both arts,\nhowever, should always be mastered.\n\nAgain, the poet should remember what has been often said, and not make\nan Epic structure into a Tragedy--by an Epic structure I mean one with\na multiplicity of plots--as if, for instance, you were to make a tragedy\nout of the entire story of the Iliad. In the Epic poem, owing to its\nlength, each part assumes its proper magnitude. In the drama the result\nis far from answering to the poet's expectation. The proof is that the\npoets who have dramatised the whole story of the Fall of Troy, instead\nof selecting portions, like Euripides; or who have taken the whole\ntale of Niobe, and not a part of her story, like Aeschylus, either fail\nutterly or meet with poor success on the stage. Even Agathon has been\nknown to fail from this one defect. In his Reversals of the Situation,\nhowever, he shows a marvellous skill in the effort to hit the popular\ntaste,--to produce a tragic effect that satisfies the moral sense. This\neffect is produced when the clever rogue, like Sisyphus, is outwitted,\nor the brave villain defeated. Such an event is probable in Agathon's\nsense of the word: 'it is probable,' he says, 'that many things should\nhappen contrary to probability.'\n\nThe Chorus too should be regarded as one of the actors; it should be an\nintegral part of the whole, and share in the action, in the manner not\nof Euripides but of Sophocles. As for the later poets, their choral\nsongs pertain as little to the subject of the piece as to that of any\nother tragedy. They are, therefore, sung as mere interludes, a practice\nfirst begun by Agathon. Yet what difference is there between introducing\nsuch choral interludes, and transferring a speech, or even a whole act,\nfrom one play to another?\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nIt remains to speak of Diction and Thought, the other parts of Tragedy\nhaving been already discussed. Concerning Thought, we may assume what\nis said in the Rhetoric, to which inquiry the subject more strictly\nbelongs. Under Thought is included every effect which has to be produced\nby speech, the subdivisions being,--proof and refutation; the excitation\nof the feelings, such as pity, fear, anger, and the like; the suggestion\nof importance or its opposite. Now, it is evident that the dramatic\nincidents must be treated from the same points of view as the dramatic\nspeeches, when the object is to evoke the sense of pity, fear,\nimportance, or probability. The only difference is, that the incidents\nshould speak for themselves without verbal exposition; while the effects\naimed at in speech should be produced by the speaker, and as a result of\nthe speech. For what were the business of a speaker, if the Thought were\nrevealed quite apart from what he says?\n\nNext, as regards Diction. One branch of the inquiry treats of the Modes\nof Utterance. But this province of knowledge belongs to the art\nof Delivery and to the masters of that science. It includes, for\ninstance,--what is a command, a prayer, a statement, a threat, a\nquestion, an answer, and so forth. To know or not to know these things\ninvolves no serious censure upon the poet's art. For who can admit\nthe fault imputed to Homer by Protagoras,--that in the words, 'Sing,\ngoddess, of the wrath,' he gives a command under the idea that he utters\na prayer? For to tell some one to do a thing or not to do it is, he\nsays, a command. We may, therefore, pass this over as an inquiry that\nbelongs to another art, not to poetry.\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\n[Language in general includes the following parts:--Letter, Syllable,\nConnecting word, Noun, Verb, Inflexion or Case, Sentence or Phrase.\n\nA Letter is an indivisible sound, yet not every such sound, but only\none which can form part of a group of sounds. For even brutes utter\nindivisible sounds, none of which I call a letter. The sound I mean\nmay be either a vowel, a semi-vowel, or a mute. A vowel is that which\nwithout impact of tongue or lip has an audible sound. A semi-vowel, that\nwhich with such impact has an audible sound, as S and R. A mute, that\nwhich with such impact has by itself no sound, but joined to a vowel\nsound becomes audible, as G and D. These are distinguished according\nto the form assumed by the mouth and the place where they are produced;\naccording as they are aspirated or smooth, long or short; as they are\nacute, grave, or of an intermediate tone; which inquiry belongs in\ndetail to the writers on metre.\n\nA Syllable is a non-significant sound, composed of a mute and a\nvowel: for GR without A is a syllable, as also with A,--GRA. But the\ninvestigation of these differences belongs also to metrical science.\n\nA Connecting word is a non-significant sound, which neither causes nor\nhinders the union of many sounds into one significant sound; it may\nbe placed at either end or in the middle of a sentence. Or, a\nnon-significant sound, which out of several sounds, each of them\nsignificant, is capable of forming one significant sound,--as {alpha mu\ntheta iota}, {pi epsilon rho iota}, and the like. Or, a non-significant\nsound, which marks the beginning, end, or division of a sentence; such,\nhowever, that it cannot correctly stand by itself at the beginning of a\nsentence, as {mu epsilon nu}, {eta tau omicron iota}, {delta epsilon}.\n\nA Noun is a composite significant sound, not marking time, of which no\npart is in itself significant: for in double or compound words we do not\nemploy the separate parts as if each were in itself significant. Thus\nin Theodorus, 'god-given,' the {delta omega rho omicron nu} or 'gift' is\nnot in itself significant.\n\nA Verb is a composite significant sound, marking time, in which, as in\nthe noun, no part is in itself significant. For 'man,' or 'white' does\nnot express the idea of 'when'; but 'he walks,' or 'he has walked' does\nconnote time, present or past.\n\nInflexion belongs both to the noun and verb, and expresses either the\nrelation 'of,' 'to,' or the like; or that of number, whether one or\nmany, as 'man' or 'men '; or the modes or tones in actual delivery, e.g.\na question or a command. 'Did he go?' and 'go' are verbal inflexions of\nthis kind.\n\nA Sentence or Phrase is a composite significant sound, some at least of\nwhose parts are in themselves significant; for not every such group\nof words consists of verbs and nouns--'the definition of man,' for\nexample--but it may dispense even with the verb. Still it will always\nhave some significant part, as 'in walking,' or 'Cleon son of Cleon.' A\nsentence or phrase may form a unity in two ways,--either as signifying\none thing, or as consisting of several parts linked together. Thus the\nIliad is one by the linking together of parts, the definition of man by\nthe unity of the thing signified.]\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\nWords are of two kinds, simple and double. By simple I mean those\ncomposed of non-significant elements, such as {gamma eta}. By double\nor compound, those composed either of a significant and non-significant\nelement (though within the whole word no element is significant), or\nof elements that are both significant. A word may likewise be triple,\nquadruple, or multiple in form, like so many Massilian expressions, e.g.\n'Hermo-caico-xanthus who prayed to Father Zeus>.'\n\nEvery word is either current, or strange, or metaphorical, or\nornamental, or newly-coined, or lengthened, or contracted, or altered.\n\nBy a current or proper word I mean one which is in general use among\na people; by a strange word, one which is in use in another country.\nPlainly, therefore, the same word may be at once strange and current,\nbut not in relation to the same people. The word {sigma iota gamma\nupsilon nu omicron nu}, 'lance,' is to the Cyprians a current term but\nto us a strange one.\n\nMetaphor is the application of an alien name by transference either from\ngenus to species, or from species to genus, or from species to species,\nor by analogy, that is, proportion. Thus from genus to species, as:\n'There lies my ship'; for lying at anchor is a species of lying. From\nspecies to genus, as: 'Verily ten thousand noble deeds hath Odysseus\nwrought'; for ten thousand is a species of large number, and is here\nused for a large number generally. From species to species, as: 'With\nblade of bronze drew away the life,' and 'Cleft the water with the\nvessel of unyielding bronze.' Here {alpha rho upsilon rho alpha iota},\n'to draw away,' is used for {tau alpha mu epsilon iota nu}, 'to cleave,'\nand {tau alpha mu epsilon iota nu} again for {alpha rho upsilon alpha\niota},--each being a species of taking away. Analogy or proportion is\nwhen the second term is to the first as the fourth to the third. We\nmay then use the fourth for the second, or the second for the fourth.\nSometimes too we qualify the metaphor by adding the term to which the\nproper word is relative. Thus the cup is to Dionysus as the shield to\nAres. The cup may, therefore, be called 'the shield of Dionysus,' and\nthe shield 'the cup of Ares.' Or, again, as old age is to life, so is\nevening to day. Evening may therefore be called 'the old age of\nthe day,' and old age, 'the evening of life,' or, in the phrase\nof Empedocles, 'life's setting sun.' For some of the terms of the\nproportion there is at times no word in existence; still the metaphor\nmay be used. For instance, to scatter seed is called sowing: but the\naction of the sun in scattering his rays is nameless. Still this process\nbears to the sun the same relation as sowing to the seed. Hence the\nexpression of the poet 'sowing the god-created light.' There is another\nway in which this kind of metaphor may be employed. We may apply an\nalien term, and then deny of that term one of its proper attributes; as\nif we were to call the shield, not 'the cup of Ares,' but 'the wineless\ncup.'\n\n{An ornamental word...}\n\nA newly-coined word is one which has never been even in local use, but\nis adopted by the poet himself. Some such words there appear to be: as\n{epsilon rho nu upsilon gamma epsilon sigma}, 'sprouters,' for {kappa\nepsilon rho alpha tau alpha}, 'horns,' and {alpha rho eta tau eta rho},\n'supplicator,' for {iota epsilon rho epsilon upsilon sigma}, 'priest.'\n\nA word is lengthened when its own vowel is exchanged for a longer one,\nor when a syllable is inserted. A word is contracted when some part of\nit is removed. Instances of lengthening are,--{pi omicron lambda eta\nomicron sigma} for {pi omicron lambda epsilon omega sigma}, and {Pi eta\nlambda eta iota alpha delta epsilon omega} for {Pi eta lambda epsilon\niota delta omicron upsilon}: of contraction,--{kappa rho iota}, {delta\nomega}, and {omicron psi}, as in {mu iota alpha / gamma iota nu epsilon\ntau alpha iota / alpha mu phi omicron tau episilon rho omega nu /\nomicron psi}.\n\nAn altered word is one in which part of the ordinary form is left\nunchanged, and part is re-cast; as in {delta epsilon xi iota-tau epsilon\nrho omicron nu / kappa alpha tau alpha / mu alpha zeta omicron nu},\n{delta epsilon xi iota tau epsilon rho omicron nu} is for {delta epsilon\nxi iota omicron nu}.\n\n[Nouns in themselves are either masculine, feminine, or neuter.\nMasculine are such as end in {nu}, {rho}, {sigma}, or in some letter\ncompounded with {sigma},--these being two, and {xi}. Feminine, such as\nend in vowels that are always long, namely {eta} and {omega}, and--of\nvowels that admit of lengthening--those in {alpha}. Thus the number of\nletters in which nouns masculine and feminine end is the same; for {psi}\nand {xi} are equivalent to endings in {sigma}. No noun ends in a mute\nor a vowel short by nature. Three only end in {iota},--{mu eta lambda\niota}, {kappa omicron mu mu iota}, {pi epsilon pi epsilon rho iota}:\nfive end in {upsilon}. Neuter nouns end in these two latter vowels; also\nin {nu} and {sigma}.]\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\nThe perfection of style is to be clear without being mean. The clearest\nstyle is that which uses only current or proper words; at the same\ntime it is mean:--witness the poetry of Cleophon and of Sthenelus. That\ndiction, on the other hand, is lofty and raised above the commonplace\nwhich employs unusual words. By unusual, I mean strange (or rare) words,\nmetaphorical, lengthened,--anything, in short, that differs from the\nnormal idiom. Yet a style wholly composed of such words is either a\nriddle or a jargon; a riddle, if it consists of metaphors; a jargon, if\nit consists of strange (or rare) words. For the essence of a riddle is\nto express true facts under impossible combinations. Now this cannot be\ndone by any arrangement of ordinary words, but by the use of metaphor it\ncan. Such is the riddle:--'A man I saw who on another man had glued the\nbronze by aid of fire,' and others of the same kind. A diction that\nis made up of strange (or rare) terms is a jargon. A certain infusion,\ntherefore, of these elements is necessary to style; for the strange (or\nrare) word, the metaphorical, the ornamental, and the other kinds above\nmentioned, will raise it above the commonplace and mean, while the use\nof proper words will make it perspicuous. But nothing contributes more\nto produce a clearness of diction that is remote from commonness than\nthe lengthening, contraction, and alteration of words. For by deviating\nin exceptional cases from the normal idiom, the language will gain\ndistinction; while, at the same time, the partial conformity with usage\nwill give perspicuity. The critics, therefore, are in error who censure\nthese licenses of speech, and hold the author up to ridicule. Thus\nEucleides, the elder, declared that it would be an easy matter to be\na poet if you might lengthen syllables at will. He caricatured the\npractice in the very form of his diction, as in the verse: '{Epsilon pi\niota chi alpha rho eta nu / epsilon iota delta omicron nu / Mu alpha rho\nalpha theta omega nu alpha delta epsilon / Beta alpha delta iota zeta\nomicron nu tau alpha}, or, {omicron upsilon kappa / alpha nu / gamma /\nepsilon rho alpha mu epsilon nu omicron sigma / tau omicron nu / epsilon\nkappa epsilon iota nu omicron upsilon /epsilon lambda lambda epsilon\nbeta omicron rho omicron nu}. To employ such license at all obtrusively\nis, no doubt, grotesque; but in any mode of poetic diction there must\nbe moderation. Even metaphors, strange (or rare) words, or any similar\nforms of speech, would produce the like effect if used without propriety\nand with the express purpose of being ludicrous. How great a difference\nis made by the appropriate use of lengthening, may be seen in Epic\npoetry by the insertion of ordinary forms in the verse. So, again, if\nwe take a strange (or rare) word, a metaphor, or any similar mode of\nexpression, and replace it by the current or proper term, the truth of\nour observation will be manifest. For example Aeschylus and Euripides\neach composed the same iambic line. But the alteration of a single word\nby Euripides, who employed the rarer term instead of the ordinary one,\nmakes one verse appear beautiful and the other trivial. Aeschylus in his\nPhiloctetes says: {Phi alpha gamma epsilon delta alpha iota nu alpha /\ndelta / eta / mu omicron upsilon / sigma alpha rho kappa alpha sigma /\nepsilon rho theta iota epsilon iota / pi omicron delta omicron sigma}.\n\nEuripides substitutes {Theta omicron iota nu alpha tau alpha iota}\n'feasts on' for {epsilon sigma theta iota epsilon iota} 'feeds on.'\nAgain, in the line, {nu upsilon nu / delta epsilon / mu /epsilon omega\nnu / omicron lambda iota gamma iota gamma upsilon sigma / tau epsilon /\nkappa alpha iota / omicron upsilon tau iota delta alpha nu omicron sigma\n/ kappa alpha iota / alpha epsilon iota kappa eta sigma), the difference\nwill be felt if we substitute the common words, {nu upsilon nu / delta\nepsilon / mu / epsilon omega nu / mu iota kappa rho omicron sigma /\ntau epsilon / kappa alpha iota / alpha rho theta epsilon nu iota kappa\nomicron sigma / kappa alpha iota / alpha epsilon iota delta gamma\nsigma}. Or, if for the line, {delta iota phi rho omicron nu / alpha\nepsilon iota kappa epsilon lambda iota omicron nu / kappa alpha tau\nalpha theta epsilon iota sigma / omicron lambda iota gamma eta nu /\ntau epsilon / tau rho alpha pi epsilon iota sigma / omicron lambda iota\ngamma eta nu / tau epsilon / tau rho alpha pi epsilon zeta alpha nu,}\nWe read, {delta iota phi rho omicron nu / mu omicron chi theta eta rho\nomicron nu / kappa alpha tau alpha theta epsilon iota sigma / mu iota\nkappa rho alpha nu / tau epsilon / tau rho alpha pi epsilon zeta alpha\nnu}.\n\nOr, for {eta iota omicron nu epsilon sigma / beta omicron omicron omega\nrho iota nu, eta iota omicron nu epsilon sigma kappa rho alpha zeta\nomicron upsilon rho iota nu}\n\nAgain, Ariphrades ridiculed the tragedians for using phrases which no\none would employ in ordinary speech: for example, {delta omega mu alpha\ntau omega nu / alpha pi omicron} instead of {alpha pi omicron / delta\nomega mu alpha tau omega nu}, {rho epsilon theta epsilon nu}, {epsilon\ngamma omega / delta epsilon / nu iota nu}, {Alpha chi iota lambda lambda\nepsilon omega sigma / pi epsilon rho iota} instead of {pi epsilon rho\niota / 'Alpha chi iota lambda lambda epsilon omega sigma}, and the like.\nIt is precisely because such phrases are not part of the current idiom\nthat they give distinction to the style. This, however, he failed to\nsee.\n\nIt is a great matter to observe propriety in these several modes of\nexpression, as also in compound words, strange (or rare) words, and so\nforth. But the greatest thing by far is to have a command of metaphor.\nThis alone cannot be imparted by another; it is the mark of genius, for\nto make good metaphors implies an eye for resemblances.\n\nOf the various kinds of words, the compound are best adapted to\nDithyrambs, rare words to heroic poetry, metaphors to iambic. In heroic\npoetry, indeed, all these varieties are serviceable. But in iambic\nverse, which reproduces, as far as may be, familiar speech, the most\nappropriate words are those which are found even in prose. These\nare,--the current or proper, the metaphorical, the ornamental.\n\nConcerning Tragedy and imitation by means of action this may suffice.\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\nAs to that poetic imitation which is narrative in form and employs\na single metre, the plot manifestly ought, as in a tragedy, to be\nconstructed on dramatic principles. It should have for its subject a\nsingle action, whole and complete, with a beginning, a middle, and\nan end. It will thus resemble a living organism in all its unity, and\nproduce the pleasure proper to it. It will differ in structure from\nhistorical compositions, which of necessity present not a single action,\nbut a single period, and all that happened within that period to one\nperson or to many, little connected together as the events may be. For\nas the sea-fight at Salamis and the battle with the Carthaginians in\nSicily took place at the same time, but did not tend to any one result,\nso in the sequence of events, one thing sometimes follows another, and\nyet no single result is thereby produced. Such is the practice, we may\nsay, of most poets. Here again, then, as has been already observed, the\ntranscendent excellence of Homer is manifest. He never attempts to make\nthe whole war of Troy the subject of his poem, though that war had\na beginning and an end. It would have been too vast a theme, and not\neasily embraced in a single view. If, again, he had kept it within\nmoderate limits, it must have been over-complicated by the variety of\nthe incidents. As it is, he detaches a single portion, and admits as\nepisodes many events from the general story of the war--such as the\nCatalogue of the ships and others--thus diversifying the poem. All other\npoets take a single hero, a single period, or an action single indeed,\nbut with a multiplicity of parts. Thus did the author of the Cypria\nand of the Little Iliad. For this reason the Iliad and the Odyssey\neach furnish the subject of one tragedy, or, at most, of two; while the\nCypria supplies materials for many, and the Little Iliad for eight--the\nAward of the Arms, the Philoctetes, the Neoptolemus, the Eurypylus, the\nMendicant Odysseus, the Laconian Women, the Fall of Ilium, the Departure\nof the Fleet.\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\nAgain, Epic poetry must have as many kinds as Tragedy: it must be\nsimple, or complex, or 'ethical,' or 'pathetic.' The parts also, with\nthe exception of song and spectacle, are the same; for it requires\nReversals of the Situation, Recognitions, and Scenes of Suffering.\nMoreover, the thoughts and the diction must be artistic. In all these\nrespects Homer is our earliest and sufficient model. Indeed each of\nhis poems has a twofold character. The Iliad is at once simple and\n'pathetic,' and the Odyssey complex (for Recognition scenes run through\nit), and at the same time 'ethical.' Moreover, in diction and thought\nthey are supreme.\n\nEpic poetry differs from Tragedy in the scale on which it is\nconstructed, and in its metre. As regards scale or length, we have\nalready laid down an adequate limit:--the beginning and the end must be\ncapable of being brought within a single view. This condition will be\nsatisfied by poems on a smaller scale than the old epics, and answering\nin length to the group of tragedies presented at a single sitting.\n\nEpic poetry has, however, a great--a special--capacity for enlarging\nits dimensions, and we can see the reason. In Tragedy we cannot imitate\nseveral lines of actions carried on at one and the same time; we must\nconfine ourselves to the action on the stage and the part taken by the\nplayers. But in Epic poetry, owing to the narrative form, many events\nsimultaneously transacted can be presented; and these, if relevant to\nthe subject, add mass and dignity to the poem. The Epic has here an\nadvantage, and one that conduces to grandeur of effect, to diverting the\nmind of the hearer, and relieving the story with varying episodes. For\nsameness of incident soon produces satiety, and makes tragedies fail on\nthe stage.\n\nAs for the metre, the heroic measure has proved its fitness by the test\nof experience. If a narrative poem in any other metre or in many metres\nwere now composed, it would be found incongruous. For of all measures\nthe heroic is the stateliest and the most massive; and hence it most\nreadily admits rare words and metaphors, which is another point in which\nthe narrative form of imitation stands alone. On the other hand, the\niambic and the trochaic tetrameter are stirring measures, the latter\nbeing akin to dancing, the former expressive of action. Still more\nabsurd would it be to mix together different metres, as was done by\nChaeremon. Hence no one has ever composed a poem on a great scale in any\nother than heroic verse. Nature herself, as we have said, teaches the\nchoice of the proper measure.\n\nHomer, admirable in all respects, has the special merit of being the\nonly poet who rightly appreciates the part he should take himself. The\npoet should speak as little as possible in his own person, for it is not\nthis that makes him an imitator. Other poets appear themselves upon the\nscene throughout, and imitate but little and rarely. Homer, after a few\nprefatory words, at once brings in a man, or woman, or other personage;\nnone of them wanting in characteristic qualities, but each with a\ncharacter of his own.\n\nThe element of the wonderful is required in Tragedy. The irrational, on\nwhich the wonderful depends for its chief effects, has wider scope in\nEpic poetry, because there the person acting is not seen. Thus, the\npursuit of Hector would be ludicrous if placed upon the stage--the\nGreeks standing still and not joining in the pursuit, and Achilles\nwaving them back. But in the Epic poem the absurdity passes unnoticed.\nNow the wonderful is pleasing: as may be inferred from the fact that\nevery one tells a story with some addition of his own, knowing that his\nhearers like it. It is Homer who has chiefly taught other poets the\nart of telling lies skilfully. The secret of it lies in a fallacy, For,\nassuming that if one thing is or becomes, a second is or becomes, men\nimagine that, if the second is, the first likewise is or becomes. But\nthis is a false inference. Hence, where the first thing is untrue, it is\nquite unnecessary, provided the second be true, to add that the first\nis or has become. For the mind, knowing the second to be true, falsely\ninfers the truth of the first. There is an example of this in the Bath\nScene of the Odyssey.\n\nAccordingly, the poet should prefer probable impossibilities to\nimprobable possibilities. The tragic plot must not be composed of\nirrational parts. Everything irrational should, if possible, be\nexcluded; or, at all events, it should lie outside the action of the\nplay (as, in the Oedipus, the hero's ignorance as to the manner of\nLaius' death); not within the drama,--as in the Electra, the messenger's\naccount of the Pythian games; or, as in the Mysians, the man who\nhas come from Tegea to Mysia and is still speechless. The plea that\notherwise the plot would have been ruined, is ridiculous; such a plot\nshould not in the first instance be constructed. But once the irrational\nhas been introduced and an air of likelihood imparted to it, we must\naccept it in spite of the absurdity. Take even the irrational incidents\nin the Odyssey, where Odysseus is left upon the shore of Ithaca. How\nintolerable even these might have been would be apparent if an inferior\npoet were to treat the subject. As it is, the absurdity is veiled by the\npoetic charm with which the poet invests it.\n\nThe diction should be elaborated in the pauses of the action, where\nthere is no expression of character or thought. For, conversely,\ncharacter and thought are merely obscured by a diction that is over\nbrilliant.\n\n\n\n\nXXV\n\nWith respect to critical difficulties and their solutions, the number\nand nature of the sources from which they may be drawn may be thus\nexhibited.\n\nThe poet being an imitator, like a painter or any other artist, must\nof necessity imitate one of three objects,--things as they were or are,\nthings as they are said or thought to be, or things as they ought to be.\nThe vehicle of expression is language,--either current terms or, it\nmay be, rare words or metaphors. There are also many modifications of\nlanguage, which we concede to the poets. Add to this, that the standard\nof correctness is not the same in poetry and politics, any more than in\npoetry and any other art. Within the art of poetry itself there are\ntwo kinds of faults, those which touch its essence, and those which are\naccidental. If a poet has chosen to imitate something, <but has imitated\nit incorrectly> through want of capacity, the error is inherent in\nthe poetry. But if the failure is due to a wrong choice if he has\nrepresented a horse as throwing out both his off legs at once, or\nintroduced technical inaccuracies in medicine, for example, or in any\nother art the error is not essential to the poetry. These are the points\nof view from which we should consider and answer the objections raised\nby the critics.\n\nFirst as to matters which concern the poet's own art. If he describes\nthe impossible, he is guilty of an error; but the error may be\njustified, if the end of the art be thereby attained (the end being that\nalready mentioned), if, that is, the effect of this or any other part of\nthe poem is thus rendered more striking. A case in point is the pursuit\nof Hector. If, however, the end might have been as well, or better,\nattained without violating the special rules of the poetic art, the\nerror is not justified: for every kind of error should, if possible, be\navoided.\n\nAgain, does the error touch the essentials of the poetic art, or some\naccident of it? For example,--not to know that a hind has no horns is a\nless serious matter than to paint it inartistically.\n\nFurther, if it be objected that the description is not true to fact, the\npoet may perhaps reply,--'But the objects are as they ought to be': just\nas Sophocles said that he drew men as they ought to be; Euripides,\nas they are. In this way the objection may be met. If, however, the\nrepresentation be of neither kind, the poet may answer,--This is how men\nsay the thing is.' This applies to tales about the gods. It may well be\nthat these stories are not higher than fact nor yet true to fact: they\nare, very possibly, what Xenophanes says of them. But anyhow, 'this\nis what is said.' Again, a description may be no better than the fact:\n'still, it was the fact'; as in the passage about the arms: 'Upright\nupon their butt-ends stood the spears.' This was the custom then, as it\nnow is among the Illyrians.\n\nAgain, in examining whether what has been said or done by some one is\npoetically right or not, we must not look merely to the particular act\nor saying, and ask whether it is poetically good or bad. We must also\nconsider by whom it is said or done, to whom, when, by what means, or\nfor what end; whether, for instance, it be to secure a greater good, or\navert a greater evil.\n\nOther difficulties may be resolved by due regard to the usage of\nlanguage. We may note a rare word, as in {omicron upsilon rho eta alpha\nsigma / mu epsilon nu / pi rho omega tau omicron nu}, where the poet\nperhaps employs {omicron upsilon rho eta alpha sigma} not in the sense\nof mules, but of sentinels. So, again, of Dolon: 'ill-favoured indeed\nhe was to look upon.' It is not meant that his body was ill-shaped, but\nthat his face was ugly; for the Cretans use the word {epsilon upsilon\nepsilon iota delta epsilon sigma}, 'well-favoured,' to denote a fair\nface. Again, {zeta omega rho omicron tau epsilon rho omicron nu /\ndelta epsilon / kappa epsilon rho alpha iota epsilon}, 'mix the drink\nlivelier,' does not mean `mix it stronger' as for hard drinkers, but\n'mix it quicker.'\n\nSometimes an expression is metaphorical, as 'Now all gods and men were\nsleeping through the night,'--while at the same time the poet says:\n'Often indeed as he turned his gaze to the Trojan plain, he marvelled\nat the sound of flutes and pipes.' 'All' is here used metaphorically for\n'many,' all being a species of many. So in the verse,--'alone she hath\nno part...,' {omicron iota eta}, 'alone,' is metaphorical; for the best\nknown may be called the only one.\n\nAgain, the solution may depend upon accent or breathing. Thus Hippias of\nThasos solved the difficulties in the lines,--{delta iota delta omicron\nmu epsilon nu (delta iota delta omicron mu epsilon nu) delta epsilon\n/ omicron iota,} and { tau omicron / mu epsilon nu / omicron upsilon\n(omicron upsilon) kappa alpha tau alpha pi upsilon theta epsilon tau\nalpha iota / omicron mu beta rho omega}.\n\nOr again, the question may be solved by punctuation, as in\nEmpedocles,--'Of a sudden things became mortal that before had learnt to\nbe immortal, and things unmixed before mixed.'\n\nOr again, by ambiguity of meaning,--as {pi alpha rho omega chi eta kappa\nepsilon nu / delta epsilon / pi lambda epsilon omega / nu upsilon xi},\nwhere the word {pi lambda epsilon omega} is ambiguous.\n\nOr by the usage of language. Thus any mixed drink is called {omicron\niota nu omicron sigma}, 'wine.' Hence Ganymede is said 'to pour the wine\nto Zeus,' though the gods do not drink wine. So too workers in iron\nare called {chi alpha lambda kappa epsilon alpha sigma}, or workers in\nbronze. This, however, may also be taken as a metaphor.\n\nAgain, when a word seems to involve some inconsistency of meaning, we\nshould consider how many senses it may bear in the particular passage.\nFor example: 'there was stayed the spear of bronze'--we should ask\nin how many ways we may take 'being checked there.' The true mode\nof interpretation is the precise opposite of what Glaucon mentions.\nCritics, he says, jump at certain groundless conclusions; they pass\nadverse judgment and then proceed to reason on it; and, assuming that\nthe poet has said whatever they happen to think, find fault if a thing\nis inconsistent with their own fancy. The question about Icarius\nhas been treated in this fashion. The critics imagine he was a\nLacedaemonian. They think it strange, therefore, that Telemachus should\nnot have met him when he went to Lacedaemon. But the Cephallenian story\nmay perhaps be the true one. They allege that Odysseus took a wife from\namong themselves, and that her father was Icadius not Icarius. It is\nmerely a mistake, then, that gives plausibility to the objection.\n\nIn general, the impossible must be justified by reference to artistic\nrequirements, or to the higher reality, or to received opinion. With\nrespect to the requirements of art, a probable impossibility is to\nbe preferred to a thing improbable and yet possible. Again, it may be\nimpossible that there should be men such as Zeuxis painted. 'Yes,' we\nsay, 'but the impossible is the higher thing; for the ideal type must\nsurpass the reality.' To justify the irrational, we appeal to what is\ncommonly said to be. In addition to which, we urge that the irrational\nsometimes does not violate reason; just as 'it is probable that a thing\nmay happen contrary to probability.'\n\nThings that sound contradictory should be examined by the same rules as\nin dialectical refutation whether the same thing is meant, in the same\nrelation, and in the same sense. We should therefore solve the question\nby reference to what the poet says himself, or to what is tacitly\nassumed by a person of intelligence.\n\nThe element of the irrational, and, similarly, depravity of character,\nare justly censured when there is no inner necessity for introducing\nthem. Such is the irrational element in the introduction of Aegeus by\nEuripides and the badness of Menelaus in the Orestes.\n\nThus, there are five sources from which critical objections are drawn.\nThings are censured either as impossible, or irrational, or morally\nhurtful, or contradictory, or contrary to artistic correctness. The\nanswers should be sought under the twelve heads above mentioned.\n\n\n\n\nXXVI\n\nThe question may be raised whether the Epic or Tragic mode of imitation\nis the higher. If the more refined art is the higher, and the more\nrefined in every case is that which appeals to the better sort of\naudience, the art which imitates anything and everything is manifestly\nmost unrefined. The audience is supposed to be too dull to comprehend\nunless something of their own is thrown in by the performers, who\ntherefore indulge in restless movements. Bad flute-players twist and\ntwirl, if they have to represent 'the quoit-throw,' or hustle the\ncoryphaeus when they perform the 'Scylla.' Tragedy, it is said, has\nthis same defect. We may compare the opinion that the older actors\nentertained of their successors. Mynniscus used to call Callippides\n'ape' on account of the extravagance of his action, and the same view\nwas held of Pindarus. Tragic art, then, as a whole, stands to Epic in\nthe same relation as the younger to the elder actors. So we are told\nthat Epic poetry is addressed to a cultivated audience, who do not need\ngesture; Tragedy, to an inferior public. Being then unrefined, it is\nevidently the lower of the two.\n\nNow, in the first place, this censure attaches not to the poetic but to\nthe histrionic art; for gesticulation may be equally overdone in\nepic recitation, as by Sosi-stratus, or in lyrical competition, as by\nMnasitheus the Opuntian. Next, all action is not to be condemned any\nmore than all dancing--but only that of bad performers. Such was the\nfault found in Callippides, as also in others of our own day, who are\ncensured for representing degraded women. Again, Tragedy like Epic\npoetry produces its effect even without action; it reveals its power\nby mere reading. If, then, in all other respects it is superior, this\nfault, we say, is not inherent in it.\n\nAnd superior it is, because it has all the epic elements--it may even\nuse the epic metre--with the music and spectacular effects as important\naccessories; and these produce the most vivid of pleasures. Further,\nit has vividness of impression in reading as well as in representation.\nMoreover, the art attains its end within narrower limits; for the\nconcentrated effect is more pleasurable than one which is spread over a\nlong time and so diluted. What, for example, would be the effect of the\nOedipus of Sophocles, if it were cast into a form as long as the Iliad?\nOnce more, the Epic imitation has less unity; as is shown by this, that\nany Epic poem will furnish subjects for several tragedies. Thus if\nthe story adopted by the poet has a strict unity, it must either be\nconcisely told and appear truncated; or, if it conform to the Epic canon\nof length, it must seem weak and watery. <Such length implies some loss\nof unity,> if, I mean, the poem is constructed out of several actions,\nlike the Iliad and the Odyssey, which have many such parts, each with a\ncertain magnitude of its own. Yet these poems are as perfect as possible\nin structure; each is, in the highest degree attainable, an imitation of\na single action.\n\nIf, then, Tragedy is superior to Epic poetry in all these respects, and,\nmoreover, fulfils its specific function better as an art for each art\nought to produce, not any chance pleasure, but the pleasure proper to\nit, as already stated it plainly follows that Tragedy is the higher art,\nas attaining its end more perfectly.\n\nThus much may suffice concerning Tragic and Epic poetry in general;\ntheir several kinds and parts, with the number of each and their\ndifferences; the causes that make a poem good or bad; the objections of\nthe critics and the answers to these objections.","title":"The Poetics of Aristotle","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":15188}