aritoteles - poetics

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Poetics

By Aristotle

Translated by S. . Butcher

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

S"CTI#$ %

Part I

I propose to treat of Poetry in itself and of its various &inds'noting the essential (uality of each' to in(uire into the structure

of the plot as re(uisite to a good poem) into the number and nature

of the parts of *hich a poem is composed) and similarly into *hatever

else falls *ithin the same in(uiry. +ollo*ing' then' the order of

nature' let us begin *ith the principles *hich come first.

"pic poetry and Tragedy' Comedy also and ,ithyrambic poetry' and the

music of the flute and of the lyre in most of their forms' are all

in their general conception modes of imitation. They differ' ho*ever'

from one another in three respects! the medium' the ob-ects' the manner

or mode of imitation' being in each case distinct.

+or as there are persons *ho' by conscious art or mere habit' imitate

and represent various ob-ects through the medium of color and form'

or again by the voice) so in the arts above mentioned' ta&en as a

*hole' the imitation is produced by rhythm' language' or harmony'

either singly or combined.

Thus in the music of the flute and of the lyre' harmony and rhythm

alone are employed) also in other arts' such as that of the shepherds

pipe' *hich are essentially similar to these. In dancing' rhythm aloneis used *ithout harmony) for even dancing imitates character' emotion'

and action' by rhythmical movement.

There is another art *hich imitates by means of language alone' and

that either in prose or verse! *hich verse' again' may either combine

different meters or consist of but one &ind! but this has hitherto

been *ithout a name. +or there is no common term *e could apply to

the mimes of Sophron and enarchus and the Socratic dialogues on the

one hand) and' on the other' to poetic imitations in iambic' elegiac'

or any similar meter. People do' indeed' add the *ord ma&er or poet

to the name of the meter' and spea& of elegiac poets' or epic 0thatis' he1ameter2 poets' as if it *ere not the imitation that ma&es the



poet' but the verse that entitles them all to the name. "ven *hen

a treatise on medicine or natural science is brought out in verse'

the name of poet is by custom given to the author) and yet omer and

"mpedocles have nothing in common but the meter' so that it *ould

be right to call the one poet' the other physicist rather than poet.

#n the same principle' even if a *riter in his poetic imitation *ereto combine all meters' as Chaeremon did in his Centaur' *hich is a

medley composed of meters of all &inds' *e should bring him too under

the general term poet.

So much then for these distinctions.

There are' again' some arts *hich employ all the means above mentioned!

namely' rhythm' tune' and meter. Such are ,ithyrambic and $omic poetry'

and also Tragedy and Comedy) but bet*een them originally the difference

is' that in the first t*o cases these means are all employed in combination'

in the latter' no* one means is employed' no* another.

Such' then' are the differences of the arts *ith respect to the medium

of imitation

Part II

Since the ob-ects of imitation are men in action' and these men must

be either of a higher or a lo*er type 0for moral character mainly

ans*ers to these divisions' goodness and badness being the distinguishing

mar&s of moral differences2' it follo*s that *e must represent men

either as better than in real life' or as *orse' or as they are. It

is the same in painting. Polygnotus depicted men as nobler than they

are' Pauson as less noble' ,ionysius dre* them true to life.

$o* it is evident that each of the modes of imitation above mentioned

*ill e1hibit these differences' and become a distinct &ind in imitating

ob-ects that are thus distinct. Such diversities may be found even

in dancing' flute!playing' and lyre!playing. So again in language'

*hether prose or verse unaccompanied by music. omer' for e1ample'

ma&es men better than they are) Cleophon as they are) egemon the

Thasian' the inventor of parodies' and $icochares' the author of the

,eiliad' *orse than they are. The same thing holds good of ,ithyrambsand $omes) here too one may portray different types' as Timotheus

and Philo1enus differed in representing their Cyclopes. The same distinction

mar&s off Tragedy from Comedy) for Comedy aims at representing men

as *orse' Tragedy as better than in actual life.

Part III

There is still a third difference! the manner in *hich each of these

ob-ects may be imitated. +or the medium being the same' and the ob-ects

the same' the poet may imitate by narration! in *hich case he can

either ta&e another personality as omer does' or spea& in his o*n person' unchanged! or he may present all his characters as living



and moving before us.

These' then' as *e said at the beginning' are the three differences

*hich distinguish artistic imitation! the medium' the ob-ects' and

the manner. So that from one point of vie*' Sophocles is an imitator

of the same &ind as omer! for both imitate higher types of character)from another point of vie*' of the same &ind as Aristophanes! for

both imitate persons acting and doing. ence' some say' the name of

drama is given to such poems' as representing action. +or the same

reason the ,orians claim the invention both of Tragedy and Comedy.

The claim to Comedy is put for*ard by the 3egarians! not only by those

of 4reece proper' *ho allege that it originated under their democracy'

but also by the 3egarians of Sicily' for the poet "picharmus' *ho

is much earlier than Chionides and 3agnes' belonged to that country.

Tragedy too is claimed by certain ,orians of the Peloponnese. In each

case they appeal to the evidence of language. The outlying villages'

they say' are by them called &omai' by the Athenians demoi: and theyassume that comedians *ere so named not from &oma5ein' to revel'

but because they *andered from village to village 0&ata &omas2' being

e1cluded contemptuously from the city. They add also that the ,orian

*ord for doing is dran' and the Athenian' prattein.

This may suffice as to the number and nature of the various modes

of imitation.

Part I6

Poetry in general seems to have sprung from t*o causes' each of them

lying deep in our nature. +irst' the instinct of imitation is implanted

in man from childhood' one difference bet*een him and other animals

being that he is the most imitative of living creatures' and through

imitation learns his earliest lessons) and no less universal is the

pleasure felt in things imitated. 7e have evidence of this in the

facts of e1perience. #b-ects *hich in themselves *e vie* *ith pain'

*e delight to contemplate *hen reproduced *ith minute fidelity: such

as the forms of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause

of this again is' that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure' not

only to philosophers but to men in general) *hose capacity' ho*ever'of learning is more limited. Thus the reason *hy men en-oy seeing

a li&eness is' that in contemplating it they find themselves learning

or inferring' and saying perhaps' Ah' that is he. +or if you happen

not to have seen the original' the pleasure *ill be due not to the

imitation as such' but to the e1ecution' the coloring' or some such

other cause.

Imitation' then' is one instinct of our nature. $e1t' there is the

instinct for harmony and rhythm' meters being manifestly sections

of rhythm. Persons' therefore' starting *ith this natural gift developed

by degrees their special aptitudes' till their rude improvisationsgave birth to Poetry.



Poetry no* diverged in t*o directions' according to the individual

character of the *riters. The graver spirits imitated noble actions'

and the actions of good men. The more trivial sort imitated the actions

of meaner persons' at first composing satires' as the former did hymns

to the gods and the praises of famous men. A poem of the satirical&ind cannot indeed be put do*n to any author earlier than omer) though

many such *riters probably there *ere. But from omer on*ard' instances

can be cited! his o*n 3argites' for e1ample' and other similar compositions.

The appropriate meter *as also here introduced) hence the measure

is still called the iambic or lampooning measure' being that in *hich

people lampooned one another. Thus the older poets *ere distinguished

as *riters of heroic or of lampooning verse.

As' in the serious style' omer is pre!eminent among poets' for he

alone combined dramatic form *ith e1cellence of imitation so he too

first laid do*n the main lines of comedy' by dramati5ing the ludicrousinstead of *riting personal satire. is 3argites bears the same relation

to comedy that the Iliad and #dyssey do to tragedy. But *hen Tragedy

and Comedy came to light' the t*o classes of poets still follo*ed

their natural bent: the lampooners became *riters of Comedy' and the

"pic poets *ere succeeded by Tragedians' since the drama *as a larger

and higher form of art.

7hether Tragedy has as yet perfected its proper types or not) and

*hether it is to be -udged in itself' or in relation also to the audience!

this raises another (uestion. Be that as it may' Tragedy! as also

Comedy! *as at first mere improvisation. The one originated *ith the

authors of the ,ithyramb' the other *ith those of the phallic songs'

*hich are still in use in many of our cities. Tragedy advanced by

slo* degrees) each ne* element that sho*ed itself *as in turn developed.

aving passed through many changes' it found its natural form' and

there it stopped.

Aeschylus first introduced a second actor) he diminished the importance

of the Chorus' and assigned the leading part to the dialogue. Sophocles

raised the number of actors to three' and added scene!painting. 3oreover'

it *as not till late that the short plot *as discarded for one of greater compass' and the grotes(ue diction of the earlier satyric

form for the stately manner of Tragedy. The iambic measure then replaced

the trochaic tetrameter' *hich *as originally employed *hen the poetry

*as of the satyric order' and had greater *ith dancing. #nce dialogue

had come in' $ature herself discovered the appropriate measure. +or

the iambic is' of all measures' the most collo(uial *e see it in the

fact that conversational speech runs into iambic lines more fre(uently

than into any other &ind of verse) rarely into he1ameters' and only

*hen *e drop the collo(uial intonation. The additions to the number

of episodes or acts' and the other accessories of *hich tradition

tells' must be ta&en as already described) for to discuss them indetail *ould' doubtless' be a large underta&ing.



Part 6

Comedy is' as *e have said' an imitation of characters of a lo*er

type! not' ho*ever' in the full sense of the *ord bad' the ludicrous

being merely a subdivision of the ugly. It consists in some defector ugliness *hich is not painful or destructive. To ta&e an obvious

e1ample' the comic mas& is ugly and distorted' but does not imply

pain.

The successive changes through *hich Tragedy passed' and the authors

of these changes' are *ell &no*n' *hereas Comedy has had no history'

because it *as not at first treated seriously. It *as late before

the Archon granted a comic chorus to a poet) the performers *ere till

then voluntary. Comedy had already ta&en definite shape *hen comic

poets' distinctively so called' are heard of. 7ho furnished it *ith

mas&s' or prologues' or increased the number of actors! these andother similar details remain un&no*n. As for the plot' it came originally

from Sicily) but of Athenian *riters Crates *as the first *ho abandoning

the iambic or lampooning form' generali5ed his themes and plots.

"pic poetry agrees *ith Tragedy in so far as it is an imitation in

verse of characters of a higher type. They differ in that "pic poetry

admits but one &ind of meter and is narrative in form. They differ'

again' in their length: for Tragedy endeavors' as far as possible'

to confine itself to a single revolution of the sun' or but slightly

to e1ceed this limit' *hereas the "pic action has no limits of time.

This' then' is a second point of difference) though at first the same

freedom *as admitted in Tragedy as in "pic poetry.

#f their constituent parts some are common to both' some peculiar

to Tragedy: *hoever' therefore &no*s *hat is good or bad Tragedy'

&no*s also about "pic poetry. All the elements of an "pic poem are

found in Tragedy' but the elements of a Tragedy are not all found

in the "pic poem.

Part 6I

#f the poetry *hich imitates in he1ameter verse' and of Comedy' *e

*ill spea& hereafter. 8et us no* discuss Tragedy' resuming its formal

definition' as resulting from *hat has been already said.

Tragedy' then' is an imitation of an action that is serious' complete'

and of a certain magnitude) in language embellished *ith each &ind

of artistic ornament' the several &inds being found in separate parts

of the play) in the form of action' not of narrative) through pity

and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions. By language

embellished' I mean language into *hich rhythm' harmony and song

enter. By the several &inds in separate parts' I mean' that some parts are rendered through the medium of verse alone' others again



*ith the aid of song.

$o* as tragic imitation implies persons acting' it necessarily follo*s

in the first place' that Spectacular e(uipment *ill be a part of Tragedy.

$e1t' Song and ,iction' for these are the media of imitation. By ,iction

I mean the mere metrical arrangement of the *ords: as for Song'it is a term *hose sense every one understands.

Again' Tragedy is the imitation of an action) and an action implies

personal agents' *ho necessarily possess certain distinctive (ualities

both of character and thought) for it is by these that *e (ualify

actions themselves' and these! thought and character! are the t*o

natural causes from *hich actions spring' and on actions again all

success or failure depends. ence' the Plot is the imitation of the

action! for by plot I here mean the arrangement of the incidents.

By Character I mean that in virtue of *hich *e ascribe certain (ualities

to the agents. Thought is re(uired *herever a statement is proved'or' it may be' a general truth enunciated. "very Tragedy' therefore'

must have si1 parts' *hich parts determine its (uality! namely' Plot'

Character' ,iction' Thought' Spectacle' Song. T*o of the parts constitute

the medium of imitation' one the manner' and three the ob-ects of

imitation. And these complete the fist. These elements have been employed'

*e may say' by the poets to a man) in fact' every play contains Spectacular

elements as *ell as Character' Plot' ,iction' Song' and Thought.

But most important of all is the structure of the incidents. +or Tragedy

is an imitation' not of men' but of an action and of life' and life

consists in action' and its end is a mode of action' not a (uality.

$o* character determines mens (ualities' but it is by their actions

that they are happy or the reverse. ,ramatic action' therefore' is

not *ith a vie* to the representation of character: character comes

in as subsidiary to the actions. ence the incidents and the plot

are the end of a tragedy) and the end is the chief thing of all. Again'

*ithout action there cannot be a tragedy) there may be *ithout character.

The tragedies of most of our modern poets fail in the rendering of

character) and of poets in general this is often true. It is the same

in painting) and here lies the difference bet*een 9eu1is and Polygnotus.

Polygnotus delineates character *ell) the style of 9eu1is is devoidof ethical (uality. Again' if you string together a set of speeches

e1pressive of character' and *ell finished in point of diction and

thought' you *ill not produce the essential tragic effect nearly so

*ell as *ith a play *hich' ho*ever deficient in these respects' yet

has a plot and artistically constructed incidents. Besides *hich'

the most po*erful elements of emotional interest in Tragedy! Peripeteia

or eversal of the Situation' and ecognition scenes! are parts of

the plot. A further proof is' that novices in the art attain to finish

of diction and precision of portraiture before they can construct

the plot. It is the same *ith almost all the early poets.

The plot' then' is the first principle' and' as it *ere' the soul



of a tragedy) Character holds the second place. A similar fact is

seen in painting. The most beautiful colors' laid on confusedly' *ill

not give as much pleasure as the chal& outline of a portrait. Thus

Tragedy is the imitation of an action' and of the agents mainly *ith

a vie* to the action.

Third in order is Thought! that is' the faculty of saying *hat is

possible and pertinent in given circumstances. In the case of oratory'

this is the function of the political art and of the art of rhetoric:

and so indeed the older poets ma&e their characters spea& the language

of civic life) the poets of our time' the language of the rhetoricians.

Character is that *hich reveals moral purpose' sho*ing *hat &ind of

things a man chooses or avoids. Speeches' therefore' *hich do not

ma&e this manifest' or in *hich the spea&er does not choose or avoid

anything *hatever' are not e1pressive of character. Thought' on the

other hand' is found *here something is proved to be or not to be'

or a general ma1im is enunciated.

+ourth among the elements enumerated comes ,iction) by *hich I mean'

as has been already said' the e1pression of the meaning in *ords)

and its essence is the same both in verse and prose.

#f the remaining elements Song holds the chief place among the embellishments

The Spectacle has' indeed' an emotional attraction of its o*n' but'

of all the parts' it is the least artistic' and connected least *ith

the art of poetry. +or the po*er of Tragedy' *e may be sure' is felt

even apart from representation and actors. Besides' the production

of spectacular effects depends more on the art of the stage machinist

than on that of the poet.

Part 6II

These principles being established' let us no* discuss the proper

structure of the Plot' since this is the first and most important

thing in Tragedy.

$o*' according to our definition Tragedy is an imitation of an actionthat is complete' and *hole' and of a certain magnitude) for there

may be a *hole that is *anting in magnitude. A *hole is that *hich

has a beginning' a middle' and an end. A beginning is that *hich does

not itself follo* anything by causal necessity' but after *hich something

naturally is or comes to be. An end' on the contrary' is that *hich

itself naturally follo*s some other thing' either by necessity' or

as a rule' but has nothing follo*ing it. A middle is that *hich follo*s

something as some other thing follo*s it. A *ell constructed plot'

therefore' must neither begin nor end at hapha5ard' but conform to

these principles.

Again' a beautiful ob-ect' *hether it be a living organism or any



*hole composed of parts' must not only have an orderly arrangement

of parts' but must also be of a certain magnitude) for beauty depends

on magnitude and order. ence a very small animal organism cannot

be beautiful) for the vie* of it is confused' the ob-ect being seen

in an almost imperceptible moment of time. $or' again' can one of

vast si5e be beautiful) for as the eye cannot ta&e it all in at once'the unity and sense of the *hole is lost for the spectator) as for

instance if there *ere one a thousand miles long. As' therefore' in

the case of animate bodies and organisms a certain magnitude is necessary'

and a magnitude *hich may be easily embraced in one vie*) so in the

plot' a certain length is necessary' and a length *hich can be easily

embraced by the memory. The limit of length in relation to dramatic

competition and sensuous presentment is no part of artistic theory.

+or had it been the rule for a hundred tragedies to compete together'

the performance *ould have been regulated by the *ater!cloc&! as indeed

*e are told *as formerly done. But the limit as fi1ed by the nature

of the drama itself is this: the greater the length' the more beautiful*ill the piece be by reason of its si5e' provided that the *hole be

perspicuous. And to define the matter roughly' *e may say that the

proper magnitude is comprised *ithin such limits' that the se(uence

of events' according to the la* of probability or necessity' *ill

admit of a change from bad fortune to good' or from good fortune to

bad.

Part 6III

;nity of plot does not' as some persons thin&' consist in the unity

of the hero. +or infinitely various are the incidents in one mans

life *hich cannot be reduced to unity) and so' too' there are many

actions of one man out of *hich *e cannot ma&e one action. ence the

error' as it appears' of all poets *ho have composed a eracleid'

a Theseid' or other poems of the &ind. They imagine that as eracles

*as one man' the story of eracles must also be a unity. But omer'

as in all else he is of surpassing merit' here too! *hether from art

or natural genius! seems to have happily discerned the truth. In composing

the #dyssey he did not include all the adventures of #dysseus! such

as his *ound on Parnassus' or his feigned madness at the mustering

of the host! incidents bet*een *hich there *as no necessary or probableconnection: but he made the #dyssey' and li&e*ise the Iliad' to center

round an action that in our sense of the *ord is one. As therefore'

in the other imitative arts' the imitation is one *hen the ob-ect

imitated is one' so the plot' being an imitation of an action' must

imitate one action and that a *hole' the structural union of the parts

being such that' if any one of them is displaced or removed' the *hole

*ill be dis-ointed and disturbed. +or a thing *hose presence or absence

ma&es no visible difference' is not an organic part of the *hole.

Part I

It is' moreover' evident from *hat has been said' that it is not the



function of the poet to relate *hat has happened' but *hat may happen!

*hat is possible according to the la* of probability or necessity.

The poet and the historian differ not by *riting in verse or in prose.

The *or& of erodotus might be put into verse' and it *ould still

be a species of history' *ith meter no less than *ithout it. The true

difference is that one relates *hat has happened' the other *hat mayhappen. Poetry' therefore' is a more philosophical and a higher thing

than history: for poetry tends to e1press the universal' history the

particular. By the universal I mean ho* a person of a certain type

on occasion spea& or act' according to the la* of probability or necessity)

and it is this universality at *hich poetry aims in the names she

attaches to the personages. The particular is! for e1ample! *hat Alcibiades

did or suffered. In Comedy this is already apparent: for here the

poet first constructs the plot on the lines of probability' and then

inserts characteristic names! unli&e the lampooners *ho *rite about

particular individuals. But tragedians still &eep to real names' the

reason being that *hat is possible is credible: *hat has not happened*e do not at once feel sure to be possible) but *hat has happened

is manifestly possible: other*ise it *ould not have happened. Still

there are even some tragedies in *hich there are only one or t*o *ell!&no*n

names' the rest being fictitious. In others' none are *ell &no*n!

as in Agathons Antheus' *here incidents and names ali&e are fictitious'

and yet they give none the less pleasure. 7e must not' therefore'

at all costs &eep to the received legends' *hich are the usual sub-ects

of Tragedy. Indeed' it *ould be absurd to attempt it) for even sub-ects

that are &no*n are &no*n only to a fe*' and yet give pleasure to all.

It clearly follo*s that the poet or ma&er should be the ma&er of

plots rather than of verses) since he is a poet because he imitates'

and *hat he imitates are actions. And even if he chances to ta&e a

historical sub-ect' he is none the less a poet) for there is no reason

*hy some events that have actually happened should not conform to

the la* of the probable and possible' and in virtue of that (uality

in them he is their poet or ma&er.

#f all plots and actions the episodic are the *orst. I call a plot

episodic in *hich the episodes or acts succeed one another *ithout

probable or necessary se(uence. Bad poets compose such pieces by their

o*n fault' good poets' to please the players) for' as they *rite sho* pieces for competition' they stretch the plot beyond its capacity'

and are often forced to brea& the natural continuity.

But again' Tragedy is an imitation not only of a complete action'

but of events inspiring fear or pity. Such an effect is best produced

*hen the events come on us by surprise) and the effect is heightened

*hen' at the same time' they follo* as cause and effect. The tragic

*onder *ill then be greater than if they happened of themselves or

by accident) for even coincidences are most stri&ing *hen they have

an air of design. 7e may instance the statue of 3itys at Argos' *hich

fell upon his murderer *hile he *as a spectator at a festival' and&illed him. Such events seem not to be due to mere chance. Plots'



therefore' constructed on these principles are necessarily the best.

Part

Plots are either Simple or Comple1' for the actions in real life'

of *hich the plots are an imitation' obviously sho* a similar distinction.An action *hich is one and continuous in the sense above defined'

I call Simple' *hen the change of fortune ta&es place *ithout eversal

of the Situation and *ithout ecognition

A Comple1 action is one in *hich the change is accompanied by such

eversal' or by ecognition' or by both. These last should arise from

the internal structure of the plot' so that *hat follo*s should be

the necessary or probable result of the preceding action. It ma&es

all the difference *hether any given event is a case of propter hoc

or post hoc.

Part I

eversal of the Situation is a change by *hich the action veers round

to its opposite' sub-ect al*ays to our rule of probability or necessity.

Thus in the #edipus' the messenger comes to cheer #edipus and free

him from his alarms about his mother' but by revealing *ho he is'

he produces the opposite effect. Again in the 8ynceus' 8ynceus is

being led a*ay to his death' and ,anaus goes *ith him' meaning to

slay him) but the outcome of the preceding incidents is that ,anaus

is &illed and 8ynceus saved.

ecognition' as the name indicates' is a change from ignorance to

&no*ledge' producing love or hate bet*een the persons destined by

the poet for good or bad fortune. The best form of recognition is

coincident *ith a eversal of the Situation' as in the #edipus. There

are indeed other forms. "ven inanimate things of the most trivial

&ind may in a sense be ob-ects of recognition. Again' *e may recogni5e

or discover *hether a person has done a thing or not. But the recognition

*hich is most intimately connected *ith the plot and action is' as

*e have said' the recognition of persons. This recognition' combined

*ith eversal' *ill produce either pity or fear) and actions producingthese effects are those *hich' by our definition' Tragedy represents.

3oreover' it is upon such situations that the issues of good or bad

fortune *ill depend. ecognition' then' being bet*een persons' it

may happen that one person only is recogni5ed by the other! *hen the

latter is already &no*n! or it may be necessary that the recognition

should be on both sides. Thus Iphigenia is revealed to #restes by

the sending of the letter) but another act of recognition is re(uired

to ma&e #restes &no*n to Iphigenia.

T*o parts' then' of the Plot! eversal of the Situation and ecognition!

turn upon surprises. A third part is the Scene of Suffering. The Sceneof Suffering is a destructive or painful action' such as death on



the stage' bodily agony' *ounds' and the li&e.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

S"CTI#$ <

Part II

The parts of Tragedy *hich must be treated as elements of the *hole

have been already mentioned. 7e no* come to the (uantitative parts!

the separate parts into *hich Tragedy is divided! namely' Prologue'

"pisode' "1ode' Choric song) this last being divided into Parode and

Stasimon. These are common to all plays: peculiar to some are the

songs of actors from the stage and the Commoi.

The Prologue is that entire part of a tragedy *hich precedes the Parode

of the Chorus. The "pisode is that entire part of a tragedy *hichis bet*een complete choric songs. The "1ode is that entire part of

a tragedy *hich has no choric song after it. #f the Choric part the

Parode is the first undivided utterance of the Chorus: the Stasimon

is a Choric ode *ithout anapaests or trochaic tetrameters: the Commos

is a -oint lamentation of Chorus and actors. The parts of Tragedy

*hich must be treated as elements of the *hole have been already mentioned.

The (uantitative parts! the separate parts into *hich it is divided!

are here enumerated.

Part III

As the se(uel to *hat has already been said' *e must proceed to consider

*hat the poet should aim at' and *hat he should avoid' in constructing

his plots) and by *hat means the specific effect of Tragedy *ill be

produced.

A perfect tragedy should' as *e have seen' be arranged not on the

simple but on the comple1 plan. It should' moreover' imitate actions

*hich e1cite pity and fear' this being the distinctive mar& of tragic

imitation. It follo*s plainly' in the first place' that the change

of fortune presented must not be the spectacle of a virtuous man broughtfrom prosperity to adversity: for this moves neither pity nor fear)

it merely shoc&s us. $or' again' that of a bad man passing from adversity

to prosperity: for nothing can be more alien to the spirit of Tragedy)

it possesses no single tragic (uality) it neither satisfies the moral

sense nor calls forth pity or fear. $or' again' should the do*nfall

of the utter villain be e1hibited. A plot of this &ind *ould' doubtless'

satisfy the moral sense' but it *ould inspire neither pity nor fear)

for pity is aroused by unmerited misfortune' fear by the misfortune

of a man li&e ourselves. Such an event' therefore' *ill be neither

pitiful nor terrible. There remains' then' the character bet*een these

t*o e1tremes! that of a man *ho is not eminently good and -ust' yet*hose misfortune is brought about not by vice or depravity' but by



some error or frailty. e must be one *ho is highly reno*ned and prosperous!

a personage li&e #edipus' Thyestes' or other illustrious men of such

families.

A *ell!constructed plot should' therefore' be single in its issue'

rather than double as some maintain. The change of fortune should be not from bad to good' but' reversely' from good to bad. It should

come about as the result not of vice' but of some great error or frailty'

in a character either such as *e have described' or better rather

than *orse. The practice of the stage bears out our vie*. At first

the poets recounted any legend that came in their *ay. $o*' the best

tragedies are founded on the story of a fe* houses! on the fortunes

of Alcmaeon' #edipus' #restes' 3eleager' Thyestes' Telephus' and those

others *ho have done or suffered something terrible. A tragedy' then'

to be perfect according to the rules of art should be of this construction.

ence they are in error *ho censure "uripides -ust because he follo*s

this principle in his plays' many of *hich end unhappily. It is' as*e have said' the right ending. The best proof is that on the stage

and in dramatic competition' such plays' if *ell *or&ed out' are the

most tragic in effect) and "uripides' faulty though he may be in the

general management of his sub-ect' yet is felt to be the most tragic

of the poets.

In the second ran& comes the &ind of tragedy *hich some place first.

8i&e the #dyssey' it has a double thread of plot' and also an opposite

catastrophe for the good and for the bad. It is accounted the best

because of the *ea&ness of the spectators) for the poet is guided

in *hat he *rites by the *ishes of his audience. The pleasure' ho*ever'

thence derived is not the true tragic pleasure. It is proper rather

to Comedy' *here those *ho' in the piece' are the deadliest enemies!

li&e #restes and Aegisthus! (uit the stage as friends at the close'

and no one slays or is slain.

Part I6

+ear and pity may be aroused by spectacular means) but they may also

result from the inner structure of the piece' *hich is the better

*ay' and indicates a superior poet. +or the plot ought to be so constructedthat' even *ithout the aid of the eye' he *ho hears the tale told

*ill thrill *ith horror and melt to pity at *hat ta&es Place. This

is the impression *e should receive from hearing the story of the

#edipus. But to produce this effect by the mere spectacle is a less

artistic method' and dependent on e1traneous aids. Those *ho employ

spectacular means to create a sense not of the terrible but only of

the monstrous' are strangers to the purpose of Tragedy) for *e must

not demand of Tragedy any and every &ind of pleasure' but only that

*hich is proper to it. And since the pleasure *hich the poet should

afford is that *hich comes from pity and fear through imitation' it

is evident that this (uality must be impressed upon the incidents.



8et us then determine *hat are the circumstances *hich stri&e us as

terrible or pitiful.

Actions capable of this effect must happen bet*een persons *ho are

either friends or enemies or indifferent to one another. If an enemy

&ills an enemy' there is nothing to e1cite pity either in the actor the intention! e1cept so far as the suffering in itself is pitiful.

So again *ith indifferent persons. But *hen the tragic incident occurs

bet*een those *ho are near or dear to one another! if' for e1ample'

a brother &ills' or intends to &ill' a brother' a son his father'

a mother her son' a son his mother' or any other deed of the &ind

is done! these are the situations to be loo&ed for by the poet. e

may not indeed destroy the frame*or& of the received legends! the

fact' for instance' that Clytemnestra *as slain by #restes and "riphyle

by Alcmaeon! but he ought to sho* of his o*n' and s&ilfully handle

the traditional. material. 8et us e1plain more clearly *hat is meant

by s&ilful handling.

The action may be done consciously and *ith &no*ledge of the persons'

in the manner of the older poets. It is thus too that "uripides ma&es

3edea slay her children. #r' again' the deed of horror may be done'

but done in ignorance' and the tie of &inship or friendship be discovered

after*ards. The #edipus of Sophocles is an e1ample. ere' indeed'

the incident is outside the drama proper) but cases occur *here it

falls *ithin the action of the play: one may cite the Alcmaeon of

Astydamas' or Telegonus in the 7ounded #dysseus. Again' there is a

third case! =to be about to act *ith &no*ledge of the persons and

then not to act. The fourth case> is *hen some one is about to do

an irreparable deed through ignorance' and ma&es the discovery before

it is done. These are the only possible *ays. +or the deed must either

be done or not done! and that *ittingly or un*ittingly. But of all

these *ays' to be about to act &no*ing the persons' and then not to

act' is the *orst. It is shoc&ing *ithout being tragic' for no disaster

follo*s It is' therefore' never' or very rarely' found in poetry.

#ne instance' ho*ever' is in the Antigone' *here aemon threatens

to &ill Creon. The ne1t and better *ay is that the deed should be

perpetrated. Still better' that it should be perpetrated in ignorance'

and the discovery made after*ards. There is then nothing to shoc& us' *hile the discovery produces a startling effect. The last case

is the best' as *hen in the Cresphontes 3erope is about to slay her

son' but' recogni5ing *ho he is' spares his life. So in the Iphigenia'

the sister recogni5es the brother -ust in time. Again in the elle'

the son recogni5es the mother *hen on the point of giving her up.

This' then' is *hy a fe* families only' as has been already observed'

furnish the sub-ects of tragedy. It *as not art' but happy chance'

that led the poets in search of sub-ects to impress the tragic (uality

upon their plots. They are compelled' therefore' to have recourse

to those houses *hose history contains moving incidents li&e these.

"nough has no* been said concerning the structure of the incidents'



and the right &ind of plot.

Part 6

In respect of Character there are four things to be aimed at. +irst'

and most important' it must be good. $o* any speech or action thatmanifests moral purpose of any &ind *ill be e1pressive of character:

the character *ill be good if the purpose is good. This rule is relative

to each class. "ven a *oman may be good' and also a slave) though

the *oman may be said to be an inferior being' and the slave (uite

*orthless. The second thing to aim at is propriety. There is a type

of manly valor) but valor in a *oman' or unscrupulous cleverness is

inappropriate. Thirdly' character must be true to life: for this is

a distinct thing from goodness and propriety' as here described. The

fourth point is consistency: for though the sub-ect of the imitation'

*ho suggested the type' be inconsistent' still he must be consistently

inconsistent. As an e1ample of motiveless degradation of character'*e have 3enelaus in the #restes) of character indecorous and inappropriate'

the lament of #dysseus in the Scylla' and the speech of 3elanippe)

of inconsistency' the Iphigenia at Aulis! for Iphigenia the suppliant

in no *ay resembles her later self.

As in the structure of the plot' so too in the portraiture of character'

the poet should al*ays aim either at the necessary or the probable.

Thus a person of a given character should spea& or act in a given

*ay' by the rule either of necessity or of probability) -ust as this

event should follo* that by necessary or probable se(uence. It is

therefore evident that the unraveling of the plot' no less than the

complication' must arise out of the plot itself' it must not be brought

about by the ,eus e1 3achina! as in the 3edea' or in the return of

the 4ree&s in the Iliad. The ,eus e1 3achina should be employed only

for events e1ternal to the drama! for antecedent or subse(uent events'

*hich lie beyond the range of human &no*ledge' and *hich re(uire to

be reported or foretold) for to the gods *e ascribe the po*er of seeing

all things. 7ithin the action there must be nothing irrational. If

the irrational cannot be e1cluded' it should be outside the scope

of the tragedy. Such is the irrational element the #edipus of Sophocles.

Again' since Tragedy is an imitation of persons *ho are above the

common level' the e1ample of good portrait painters should be follo*ed.

They' *hile reproducing the distinctive form of the original' ma&e

a li&eness *hich is true to life and yet more beautiful. So too the

poet' in representing men *ho are irascible or indolent' or have other

defects of character' should preserve the type and yet ennoble it.

In this *ay Achilles is portrayed by Agathon and omer.

These then are rules the poet should observe. $or should he neglect

those appeals to the senses' *hich' though not among the essentials'

are the concomitants of poetry) for here too there is much room for error. But of this enough has been said in our published treatises.



Part 6I

7hat ecognition is has been already e1plained. 7e *ill no* enumerate

its &inds.

+irst' the least artistic form' *hich' from poverty of *it' is most

commonly employed! recognition by signs. #f these some are congenital!

such as the spear *hich the earth!born race bear on their bodies'

or the stars introduced by Carcinus in his Thyestes. #thers are ac(uired

after birth) and of these some are bodily mar&s' as scars) some e1ternal

to&ens' as nec&laces' or the little ar& in the Tyro by *hich the discovery

is effected. "ven these admit of more or less s&ilful treatment. Thus

in the recognition of #dysseus by his scar' the discovery is made

in one *ay by the nurse' in another by the s*ineherds. The use of

to&ens for the e1press purpose of proof! and' indeed' any formal proof

*ith or *ithout to&ens! is a less artistic mode of recognition. A better &ind is that *hich comes about by a turn of incident' as in

the Bath Scene in the #dyssey.

$e1t come the recognitions invented at *ill by the poet' and on that

account *anting in art. +or e1ample' #restes in the Iphigenia reveals

the fact that he is #restes. She' indeed' ma&es herself &no*n by the

letter) but he' by spea&ing himself' and saying *hat the poet' not

*hat the plot re(uires. This' therefore' is nearly allied to the fault

above mentioned! for #restes might as *ell have brought to&ens *ith

him. Another similar instance is the voice of the shuttle in the

Tereus of Sophocles.

The third &ind depends on memory *hen the sight of some ob-ect a*a&ens

a feeling: as in the Cyprians of ,icaeogenes' *here the hero brea&s

into tears on seeing the picture) or again in the 8ay of Alcinous'

*here #dysseus' hearing the minstrel play the lyre' recalls the past

and *eeps) and hence the recognition.

The fourth &ind is by process of reasoning. Thus in the Choephori:

Some one resembling me has come: no one resembles me but #restes:

therefore #restes has come. Such too is the discovery made by Iphigeniain the play of Polyidus the Sophist. It *as a natural reflection for

#restes to ma&e' So I too must die at the altar li&e my sister.

So' again' in the Tydeus of Theodectes' the father says' I came to

find my son' and I lose my o*n life. So too in the Phineidae: the

*omen' on seeing the place' inferred their fate! ere *e are doomed

to die' for here *e *ere cast forth. Again' there is a composite

&ind of recognition involving false inference on the part of one of

the characters' as in the #dysseus ,isguised as a 3essenger. A said

=that no one else *as able to bend the bo*) ... hence B 0the disguised

#dysseus2 imagined that A *ould> recogni5e the bo* *hich' in fact'

he had not seen) and to bring about a recognition by this means! thee1pectation that A *ould recogni5e the bo*! is false inference.



But' of all recognitions' the best is that *hich arises from the incidents

themselves' *here the startling discovery is made by natural means.

Such is that in the #edipus of Sophocles' and in the Iphigenia) for

it *as natural that Iphigenia should *ish to dispatch a letter. These

recognitions alone dispense *ith the artificial aid of to&ens or amulets. $e1t come the recognitions by process of reasoning.

Part 6II

In constructing the plot and *or&ing it out *ith the proper diction'

the poet should place the scene' as far as possible' before his eyes.

In this *ay' seeing everything *ith the utmost vividness' as if he

*ere a spectator of the action' he *ill discover *hat is in &eeping

*ith it' and be most unli&ely to overloo& inconsistencies. The need

of such a rule is sho*n by the fault found in Carcinus. Amphiaraus

*as on his *ay from the temple. This fact escaped the observationof one *ho did not see the situation. #n the stage' ho*ever' the Piece

failed' the audience being offended at the oversight.

Again' the poet should *or& out his play' to the best of his po*er'

*ith appropriate gestures) for those *ho feel emotion are most convincing

through natural sympathy *ith the characters they represent) and one

*ho is agitated storms' one *ho is angry rages' *ith the most lifeli&e

reality. ence poetry implies either a happy gift of nature or a strain

of madness. In the one case a man can ta&e the mould of any character)

in the other' he is lifted out of his proper self.

As for the story' *hether the poet ta&es it ready made or constructs

it for himself' he should first s&etch its general outline' and then

fill in the episodes and amplify in detail. The general plan may be

illustrated by the Iphigenia. A young girl is sacrificed) she disappears

mysteriously from the eyes of those *ho sacrificed her) she is transported

to another country' *here the custom is to offer up an strangers to

the goddess. To this ministry she is appointed. Some time later her

o*n brother chances to arrive. The fact that the oracle for some reason

ordered him to go there' is outside the general plan of the play.

The purpose' again' of his coming is outside the action proper. o*ever'he comes' he is sei5ed' and' *hen on the point of being sacrificed'

reveals *ho he is. The mode of recognition may be either that of "uripides

or of Polyidus' in *hose play he e1claims very naturally: So it *as

not my sister only' but I too' *ho *as doomed to be sacrificed) and

by that remar& he is saved.

After this' the names being once given' it remains to fill in the

episodes. 7e must see that they are relevant to the action. In the

case of #restes' for e1ample' there is the madness *hich led to his

capture' and his deliverance by means of the purificatory rite. In

the drama' the episodes are short' but it is these that give e1tensionto "pic poetry. Thus the story of the #dyssey can be stated briefly.



A certain man is absent from home for many years) he is -ealously

*atched by Poseidon' and left desolate. 3ean*hile his home is in a

*retched plight! suitors are *asting his substance and plotting against

his son. At length' tempest!tost' he himself arrives) he ma&es certain

persons ac(uainted *ith him) he attac&s the suitors *ith his o*n hand'

and is himself preserved *hile he destroys them. This is the essenceof the plot) the rest is episode.

Part 6III

"very tragedy falls into t*o parts! Complication and ;nraveling or

,enouement. Incidents e1traneous to the action are fre(uently combined

*ith a portion of the action proper' to form the Complication) the

rest is the ;nraveling. By the Complication I mean all that e1tends

from the beginning of the action to the part *hich mar&s the turning!point

to good or bad fortune. The ;nraveling is that *hich e1tends from

the beginning of the change to the end. Thus' in the 8ynceus of Theodectes'the Complication consists of the incidents presupposed in the drama'

the sei5ure of the child' and then again ... =the ;nraveling> e1tends

from the accusation of murder to

There are four &inds of Tragedy: the Comple1' depending entirely on

eversal of the Situation and ecognition) the Pathetic 0*here the

motive is passion2! such as the tragedies on A-a1 and I1ion) the "thical

0*here the motives are ethical2! such as the Phthiotides and the Peleus.

The fourth &ind is the Simple. =7e here e1clude the purely spectacular

element>' e1emplified by the Phorcides' the Prometheus' and scenes

laid in ades. The poet should endeavor' if possible' to combine all

poetic elements) or failing that' the greatest number and those the

most important) the more so' in face of the caviling criticism of

the day. +or *hereas there have hitherto been good poets' each in

his o*n branch' the critics no* e1pect one man to surpass all others

in their several lines of e1cellence.

In spea&ing of a tragedy as the same or different' the best test to

ta&e is the plot. Identity e1ists *here the Complication and ;nraveling

are the same. 3any poets tie the &not *ell' but unravel it Both arts'

ho*ever' should al*ays be mastered.

Again' the poet should remember *hat has been often said' and not

ma&e an "pic structure into a tragedy! by an "pic structure I mean

one *ith a multiplicity of plots! as if' for instance' you *ere to

ma&e a tragedy out of the entire story of the Iliad. In the "pic poem'

o*ing to its length' each part assumes its proper magnitude. In the

drama the result is far from ans*ering to the poets e1pectation.

The proof is that the poets *ho have dramati5ed the *hole story of

the +all of Troy' instead of selecting portions' li&e "uripides) or

*ho have ta&en the *hole tale of $iobe' and not a part of her story'

li&e Aeschylus' either fail utterly or meet *ith poor success on thestage. "ven Agathon has been &no*n to fail from this one defect. In



his eversals of the Situation' ho*ever' he sho*s a marvelous s&ill

in the effort to hit the popular taste! to produce a tragic effect

that satisfies the moral sense. This effect is produced *hen the clever

rogue' li&e Sisyphus' is out*itted' or the brave villain defeated.

Such an event is probable in Agathons sense of the *ord: is probable'

he says' that many things should happen contrary to probability.

The Chorus too should be regarded as one of the actors) it should

be an integral part of the *hole' and share in the action' in the

manner not of "uripides but of Sophocles. As for the later poets'

their choral songs pertain as little to the sub-ect of the piece as

to that of any other tragedy. They are' therefore' sung as mere interludes!

a practice first begun by Agathon. ?et *hat difference is there bet*een

introducing such choral interludes' and transferring a speech' or

even a *hole act' from one play to another.

Part I

It remains to spea& of ,iction and Thought' the other parts of Tragedy

having been already discussed. concerning Thought' *e may assume *hat

is said in the hetoric' to *hich in(uiry the sub-ect more strictly

belongs. ;nder Thought is included every effect *hich has to be produced

by speech' the subdivisions being: proof and refutation) the e1citation

of the feelings' such as pity' fear' anger' and the li&e) the suggestion

of importance or its opposite. $o*' it is evident that the dramatic

incidents must be treated from the same points of vie* as the dramatic

speeches' *hen the ob-ect is to evo&e the sense of pity' fear' importance'

or probability. The only difference is that the incidents should spea&

for themselves *ithout verbal e1position) *hile effects aimed at in

should be produced by the spea&er' and as a result of the speech.

+or *hat *ere the business of a spea&er' if the Thought *ere revealed

(uite apart from *hat he says@

$e1t' as regards ,iction. #ne branch of the in(uiry treats of the

3odes of ;tterance. But this province of &no*ledge belongs to the

art of ,elivery and to the masters of that science. It includes' for

instance! *hat is a command' a prayer' a statement' a threat' a (uestion'

an ans*er' and so forth. To &no* or not to &no* these things involvesno serious censure upon the poets art. +or *ho can admit the fault

imputed to omer by Protagoras! that in the *ords' Sing' goddess'

of the *rath' he gives a command under the idea that he utters a prayer@

+or to tell some one to do a thing or not to do it is' he says' a

command. 7e may' therefore' pass this over as an in(uiry that belongs

to another art' not to poetry.

Part

8anguage in general includes the follo*ing parts: 8etter' Syllable'

Connecting 7ord' $oun' 6erb' Inflection or Case' Sentence or Phrase.



A 8etter is an indivisible sound' yet not every such sound' but only

one *hich can form part of a group of sounds. +or even brutes utter

indivisible sounds' none of *hich I call a letter. The sound I mean

may be either a vo*el' a semivo*el' or a mute. A vo*el is that *hich

*ithout impact of tongue or lip has an audible sound. A semivo*el

that *hich *ith such impact has an audible sound' as S and . A mute'that *hich *ith such impact has by itself no sound' but -oined to

a vo*el sound becomes audible' as 4 and ,. These are distinguished

according to the form assumed by the mouth and the place *here they

are produced) according as they are aspirated or smooth' long or short)

as they are acute' grave' or of an intermediate tone) *hich in(uiry

belongs in detail to the *riters on meter.

A Syllable is a nonsignificant sound' composed of a mute and a vo*el:

for 4 *ithout A is a syllable' as also *ith A! 4A. But the investigation

of these differences belongs also to metrical science.

A Connecting 7ord is a nonsignificant sound' *hich neither causes

nor hinders the union of many sounds into one significant sound) it

may be placed at either end or in the middle of a sentence. #r' a

nonsignificant sound' *hich out of several sounds' each of them significant'

is capable of forming one significant sound! as amphi' peri' and the

li&e. #r' a nonsignificant sound' *hich mar&s the beginning' end'

or division of a sentence) such' ho*ever' that it cannot correctly

stand by itself at the beginning of a sentence! as men' etoi' de.

A $oun is a composite significant sound' not mar&ing time' of *hich

no part is in itself significant: for in double or compound *ords

*e do not employ the separate parts as if each *ere in itself significant.

Thus in Theodorus' god!given' the doron or gift is not in itself

significant.

A 6erb is a composite significant sound' mar&ing time' in *hich' as

in the noun' no part is in itself significant. +or man or *hite

does not e1press the idea of *hen) but he *al&s or he has *al&ed

does connote time' present or past.

Inflection belongs both to the noun and verb' and e1presses either the relation of' to' or the li&e) or that of number' *hether one

or many' as man or men) or the modes or tones in actual delivery'

e.g.' a (uestion or a command. ,id he go@ and go are verbal inflections

of this &ind.

A Sentence or Phrase is a composite significant sound' some at least

of *hose parts are in themselves significant) for not every such group

of *ords consists of verbs and nouns! the definition of man' for

e1ample! but it may dispense even *ith the verb. Still it *ill al*ays

have some significant part' as in *al&ing' or Cleon son of Cleon.

A sentence or phrase may form a unity in t*o *ays! either as signifyingone thing' or as consisting of several parts lin&ed together. Thus



the Iliad is one by the lin&ing together of parts' the definition

of man by the unity of the thing signified.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

S"CTI#$

Part I

7ords are of t*o &inds' simple and double. By simple I mean those

composed of nonsignificant elements' such as ge' earth. By double

or compound' those composed either of a significant and nonsignificant

element 0though *ithin the *hole *ord no element is significant2'

or of elements that are both significant. A *ord may li&e*ise be triple'

(uadruple' or multiple in form' li&e so many 3assilian e1pressions'

e.g.' ermo!caico!1anthus =*ho prayed to +ather 9eus>.

"very *ord is either current' or strange' or metaphorical' or ornamental'

or ne*ly!coined' or lengthened' or contracted' or altered.

By a current or proper *ord I mean one *hich is in general use among

a people) by a strange *ord' one *hich is in use in another country.

Plainly' therefore' the same *ord may be at once strange and current'

but not in relation to the same people. The *ord sigynon' lance'

is to the Cyprians a current term but to us a strange one.

3etaphor is the application of an alien name by transference either

from genus to species' or from species to genus' or from species to

species' or by analogy' that is' proportion. Thus from genus to species'

as: There lies my ship) for lying at anchor is a species of lying.

+rom species to genus' as: 6erily ten thousand noble deeds hath #dysseus

*rought) for ten thousand is a species of large number' and is here

used for a large number generally. +rom species to species' as: 7ith

blade of bron5e dre* a*ay the life' and Cleft the *ater *ith the

vessel of unyielding bron5e. ere arusai' to dra* a*ay is used

for tamein' to cleave' and tamein' again for arusai! each being

a species of ta&ing a*ay. Analogy or proportion is *hen the second

term is to the first as the fourth to the third. 7e may then use thefourth for the second' or the second for the fourth. Sometimes too

*e (ualify the metaphor by adding the term to *hich the proper *ord

is relative. Thus the cup is to ,ionysus as the shield to Ares. The

cup may' therefore' be called the shield of ,ionysus' and the shield

the cup of Ares. #r' again' as old age is to life' so is evening

to day. "vening may therefore be called' the old age of the day'

and old age' the evening of life' or' in the phrase of "mpedocles'

lifes setting sun. +or some of the terms of the proportion there

is at times no *ord in e1istence) still the metaphor may be used.

+or instance' to scatter seed is called so*ing: but the action of

the sun in scattering his rays is nameless. Still this process bearsto the sun the same relation as so*ing to the seed. ence the e1pression



of the poet so*ing the god!created light. There is another *ay in

*hich this &ind of metaphor may be employed. 7e may apply an alien

term' and then deny of that term one of its proper attributes) as

if *e *ere to call the shield' not the cup of Ares' but the *ineless

cup.

A ne*ly!coined *ord is one *hich has never been even in local use'

but is adopted by the poet himself. Some such *ords there appear to

be: as ernyges' sprouters' for &erata' horns) and areter' supplicator'

for hiereus' priest.

A *ord is lengthened *hen its o*n vo*el is e1changed for a longer

one' or *hen a syllable is inserted. A *ord is contracted *hen some

part of it is removed. Instances of lengthening are: poleos for poleos'

Peleiadeo for Peleidou) of contraction: &ri' do' and ops' as in mia

ginetai amphoteron ops' the appearance of both is one.

An altered *ord is one in *hich part of the ordinary form is left

unchanged' and part is recast: as in de1iteron &ata ma5on' on the

right breast' de1iteron is for de1ion.

$ouns in themselves are either masculine' feminine' or neuter. 3asculine

are such as end in $' ' S' or in some letter compounded *ith S! these

being t*o' PS and . +eminine' such as end in vo*els that are al*ays

long' namely " and #' and! of vo*els that admit of lengthening! those

in A. Thus the number of letters in *hich nouns masculine and feminine

end is the same) for PS and are e(uivalent to endings in S. $o noun

ends in a mute or a vo*el short by nature. Three only end in I! meli'

honey) &ommi' gum) peperi' pepper) five end in ;. $euter nouns

end in these t*o latter vo*els) also in $ and S.

Part II

The perfection of style is to be clear *ithout being mean. The clearest

style is that *hich uses only current or proper *ords) at the same

time it is mean! *itness the poetry of Cleophon and of Sthenelus.

That diction' on the other hand' is lofty and raised above the commonplace

*hich employs unusual *ords. By unusual' I mean strange 0or rare2*ords' metaphorical' lengthened! anything' in short' that differs

from the normal idiom. ?et a style *holly composed of such *ords is

either a riddle or a -argon) a riddle' if it consists of metaphors)

a -argon' if it consists of strange 0or rare2 *ords. +or the essence

of a riddle is to e1press true facts under impossible combinations.

$o* this cannot be done by any arrangement of ordinary *ords' but

by the use of metaphor it can. Such is the riddle: A man I sa* *ho

on another man had glued the bron5e by aid of fire' and others of

the same &ind. A diction that is made up of strange 0or rare2 terms

is a -argon. A certain infusion' therefore' of these elements is necessary

to style) for the strange 0or rare2 *ord' the metaphorical' the ornamental'and the other &inds above mentioned' *ill raise it above the commonplace



and mean' *hile the use of proper *ords *ill ma&e it perspicuous.

But nothing contributes more to produce a cleanness of diction that

is remote from commonness than the lengthening' contraction' and alteration

of *ords. +or by deviating in e1ceptional cases from the normal idiom'

the language *ill gain distinction) *hile' at the same time' the partial

conformity *ith usage *ill give perspicuity. The critics' therefore'are in error *ho censure these licenses of speech' and hold the author

up to ridicule. Thus "ucleides' the elder' declared that it *ould

be an easy matter to be a poet if you might lengthen syllables at

*ill. e caricatured the practice in the very form of his diction'

as in the verse:

"picharen eidon 3arathonade badi5onta'

I sa* "pichares *al&ing to 3arathon'

or'

ou& an geramenos ton e&einou elleboron.

$ot if you desire his hellebore.

To employ such license at all obtrusively is' no doubt' grotes(ue)

but in any mode of poetic diction there must be moderation. "ven metaphors'

strange 0or rare2 *ords' or any similar forms of speech' *ould produce

the li&e effect if used *ithout propriety and *ith the e1press purpose

of being ludicrous. o* great a difference is made by the appropriate

use of lengthening' may be seen in "pic poetry by the insertion of

ordinary forms in the verse. So' again' if *e ta&e a strange 0or rare2

*ord' a metaphor' or any similar mode of e1pression' and replace it

by the current or proper term' the truth of our observation *ill be

manifest. +or e1ample' Aeschylus and "uripides each composed the same

iambic line. But the alteration of a single *ord by "uripides' *ho

employed the rarer term instead of the ordinary one' ma&es one verse

appear beautiful and the other trivial. Aeschylus in his Philoctetes

says:

phagedaina dhe mou sar&as esthiei podos.

The tumor *hich is eating the flesh of my foot.

"uripides substitutes thoinatai' feasts on' for esthiei' feeds

on. Again' in the line'

nun de meon oligos te &ai outidanos &ai aei&es'

?et a small man' *orthless and unseemly'

the difference *ill be felt if *e substitute the common *ords'



nun de meon mi&ros te &ai astheni&os &ai aeides.

?et a little fello*' *ea& and ugly.

#r' if for the line'

diphron aei&elion &atatheis oligen te trape5an'

Setting an unseemly couch and a meager table'

*e read'

diphron mochtheron &atatheis mi&ran te trape5an.

Setting a *retched couch and a puny table.

#r' for eiones booosin' the sea shores roar' eiones &ra5ousin'the sea shores screech.

Again' Ariphrades ridiculed the tragedians for using phrases *hich

no one *ould employ in ordinary speech: for e1ample' domaton apo'

from the house a*ay' instead of apo domaton' a*ay from the house)

sethen' ego de nin' to thee' and I to him) Achilleos peri' Achilles

about' instead of peri Achilleos' about Achilles) and the li&e.

It is precisely because such phrases are not part of the current idiom

that they give distinction to the style. This' ho*ever' he failed

to see.

It is a great matter to observe propriety in these several modes of

e1pression' as also in compound *ords' strange 0or rare2 *ords' and

so forth. But the greatest thing by far is to have a command of metaphor.

This alone cannot be imparted by another) it is the mar& of genius'

for to ma&e good metaphors implies an eye for resemblances.

#f the various &inds of *ords' the compound are best adapted to dithyrambs'

rare *ords to heroic poetry' metaphors to iambic. In heroic poetry'

indeed' all these varieties are serviceable. But in iambic verse'

*hich reproduces' as far as may be' familiar speech' the most appropriate*ords are those *hich are found even in prose. These are the current

or proper' the metaphorical' the ornamental.

Concerning Tragedy and imitation by means of action this may suffice.

Part III

As to that poetic imitation *hich is narrative in form and employs

a single meter' the plot manifestly ought' as in a tragedy' to be

constructed on dramatic principles. It should have for its sub-ect

a single action' *hole and complete' *ith a beginning' a middle' andan end. It *ill thus resemble a living organism in all its unity'



and produce the pleasure proper to it. It *ill differ in structure

from historical compositions' *hich of necessity present not a single

action' but a single period' and all that happened *ithin that period

to one person or to many' little connected together as the events

may be. +or as the sea!fight at Salamis and the battle *ith the Carthaginians

in Sicily too& place at the same time' but did not tend to any oneresult' so in the se(uence of events' one thing sometimes follo*s

another' and yet no single result is thereby produced. Such is the

practice' *e may say' of most poets. ere again' then' as has been

already observed' the transcendent e1cellence of omer is manifest.

e never attempts to ma&e the *hole *ar of Troy the sub-ect of his

poem' though that *ar had a beginning and an end. It *ould have been

too vast a theme' and not easily embraced in a single vie*. If' again'

he had &ept it *ithin moderate limits' it must have been over!complicated

by the variety of the incidents. As it is' he detaches a single portion'

and admits as episodes many events from the general story of the *ar!

such as the Catalogue of the ships and others! thus diversifying the poem. All other poets ta&e a single hero' a single period' or an action

single indeed' but *ith a multiplicity of parts. Thus did the author

of the Cypria and of the 8ittle Iliad. +or this reason the Iliad and

the #dyssey each furnish the sub-ect of one tragedy' or' at most'

of t*o) *hile the Cypria supplies materials for many' and the 8ittle

Iliad for eight! the A*ard of the Arms' the Philoctetes' the $eoptolemus'

the "urypylus' the 3endicant #dysseus' the 8aconian 7omen' the +all

of Ilium' the ,eparture of the +leet.

Part I6

Again' "pic poetry must have as many &inds as Tragedy: it must be

simple' or comple1' or ethical'or pathetic. The parts also' *ith

the e1ception of song and spectacle' are the same) for it re(uires

eversals of the Situation' ecognitions' and Scenes of Suffering.

3oreover' the thoughts and the diction must be artistic. In all these

respects omer is our earliest and sufficient model. Indeed each of

his poems has a t*ofold character. The Iliad is at once simple and

pathetic' and the #dyssey comple1 0for ecognition scenes run through

it2' and at the same time ethical. 3oreover' in diction and thought

they are supreme.

"pic poetry differs from Tragedy in the scale on *hich it is constructed'

and in its meter. As regards scale or length' *e have already laid

do*n an ade(uate limit: the beginning and the end must be capable

of being brought *ithin a single vie*. This condition *ill be satisfied

by poems on a smaller scale than the old epics' and ans*ering in length

to the group of tragedies presented at a single sitting.

"pic poetry has' ho*ever' a great! a special! capacity for enlarging

its dimensions' and *e can see the reason. In Tragedy *e cannot imitate

several lines of actions carried on at one and the same time) *e mustconfine ourselves to the action on the stage and the part ta&en by



the players. But in "pic poetry' o*ing to the narrative form' many

events simultaneously transacted can be presented) and these' if relevant

to the sub-ect' add mass and dignity to the poem. The "pic has here

an advantage' and one that conduces to grandeur of effect' to diverting

the mind of the hearer' and relieving the story *ith varying episodes.

+or sameness of incident soon produces satiety' and ma&es tragediesfail on the stage.

As for the meter' the heroic measure has proved its fitness by he1ameter

test of e1perience. If a narrative poem in any other meter or in many

meters *ere no* composed' it *ould be found incongruous. +or of all

measures the heroic is the stateliest and the most massive) and hence

it most readily admits rare *ords and metaphors' *hich is another

point in *hich the narrative form of imitation stands alone. #n the

other hand' the iambic and the trochaic tetrameter are stirring measures'

the latter being a&in to dancing' the former e1pressive of action.

Still more absurd *ould it be to mi1 together different meters' as*as done by Chaeremon. ence no one has ever composed a poem on a

great scale in any other than heroic verse. $ature herself' as *e

have said' teaches the choice of the proper measure.

omer' admirable in all respects' has the special merit of being the

only poet *ho rightly appreciates the part he should ta&e himself.

The poet should spea& as little as possible in his o*n person' for

it is not this that ma&es him an imitator. #ther poets appear themselves

upon the scene throughout' and imitate but little and rarely. omer'

after a fe* prefatory *ords' at once brings in a man' or *oman' or

other personage) none of them *anting in characteristic (ualities'

but each *ith a character of his o*n.

The element of the *onderful is re(uired in Tragedy. The irrational'

on *hich the *onderful depends for its chief effects' has *ider scope

in "pic poetry' because there the person acting is not seen. Thus'

the pursuit of ector *ould be ludicrous if placed upon the stage!

the 4ree&s standing still and not -oining in the pursuit' and Achilles

*aving them bac&. But in the "pic poem the absurdity passes unnoticed.

$o* the *onderful is pleasing' as may be inferred from the fact that

every one tells a story *ith some addition of his &no*ing that hishearers li&e it. It is omer *ho has chiefly taught other poets the

art of telling lies s&ilfully. The secret of it lies in a fallacy

+or' assuming that if one thing is or becomes' a second is or becomes'

men imagine that' if the second is' the first li&e*ise is or becomes.

But this is a false inference. ence' *here the first thing is untrue'

it is (uite unnecessary' provided the second be true' to add that

the first is or has become. +or the mind' &no*ing the second to be

true' falsely infers the truth of the first. There is an e1ample of

this in the Bath Scene of the #dyssey.

Accordingly' the poet should prefer probable impossibilities to improbable possibilities. The tragic plot must not be composed of irrational



parts. "verything irrational should' if possible' be e1cluded) or'

at all events' it should lie outside the action of the play 0as' in

the #edipus' the heros ignorance as to the manner of 8aius death2)

not *ithin the drama! as in the "lectra' the messengers account of

the Pythian games) or' as in the 3ysians' the man *ho has come from

Tegea to 3ysia and is still speechless. The plea that other*ise the plot *ould have been ruined' is ridiculous) such a plot should not

in the first instance be constructed. But once the irrational has

been introduced and an air of li&elihood imparted to it' *e must accept

it in spite of the absurdity. Ta&e even the irrational incidents in

the #dyssey' *here #dysseus is left upon the shore of Ithaca. o*

intolerable even these might have been *ould be apparent if an inferior

poet *ere to treat the sub-ect. As it is' the absurdity is veiled

by the poetic charm *ith *hich the poet invests it.

The diction should be elaborated in the pauses of the action' *here

there is no e1pression of character or thought. +or' conversely' character and thought are merely obscured by a diction that is over!brilliant

Part 6

7ith respect to critical difficulties and their solutions' the number

and nature of the sources from *hich they may be dra*n may be thus

e1hibited.

The poet being an imitator' li&e a painter or any other artist' must

of necessity imitate one of three ob-ects! things as they *ere or

are' things as they are said or thought to be' or things as they ought

to be. The vehicle of e1pression is language! either current terms

or' it may be' rare *ords or metaphors. There are also many modifications

of language' *hich *e concede to the poets. Add to this' that the

standard of correctness is not the same in poetry and politics' any

more than in poetry and any other art. 7ithin the art of poetry itself

there are t*o &inds of faults! those *hich touch its essence' and

those *hich are accidental. If a poet has chosen to imitate something'

=but has imitated it incorrectly> through *ant of capacity' the error

is inherent in the poetry. But if the failure is due to a *rong choice!

if he has represented a horse as thro*ing out both his off legs atonce' or introduced technical inaccuracies in medicine' for e1ample'

or in any other art! the error is not essential to the poetry. These

are the points of vie* from *hich *e should consider and ans*er the

ob-ections raised by the critics.

+irst as to matters *hich concern the poets o*n art. If he describes

the impossible' he is guilty of an error) but the error may be -ustified'

if the end of the art be thereby attained 0the end being that already

mentioned2! if' that is' the effect of this or any other part of the

poem is thus rendered more stri&ing. A case in point is the pursuit

of ector. if' ho*ever' the end might have been as *ell' or better'attained *ithout violating the special rules of the poetic art' the



error is not -ustified: for every &ind of error should' if possible'

be avoided.

Again' does the error touch the essentials of the poetic art' or some

accident of it@ +or e1ample' not to &no* that a hind has no horns

is a less serious matter than to paint it inartistically.

+urther' if it be ob-ected that the description is not true to fact'

the poet may perhaps reply' But the ob-ects are as they ought to

be) -ust as Sophocles said that he dre* men as they ought to be)

"uripides' as they are. In this *ay the ob-ection may be met. If'

ho*ever' the representation be of neither &ind' the poet may ans*er'

This is ho* men say the thing is. applies to tales about the gods.

It may *ell be that these stories are not higher than fact nor yet

true to fact: they are' very possibly' *hat enophanes says of them.

But anyho*' this is *hat is said. Again' a description may be no

better than the fact: Still' it *as the fact) as in the passageabout the arms: ;pright upon their butt!ends stood the spears. This

*as the custom then' as it no* is among the Illyrians.

Again' in e1amining *hether *hat has been said or done by some one

is poetically right or not' *e must not loo& merely to the particular

act or saying' and as& *hether it is poetically good or bad. 7e must

also consider by *hom it is said or done' to *hom' *hen' by *hat means'

or for *hat end) *hether' for instance' it be to secure a greater

good' or avert a greater evil.

#ther difficulties may be resolved by due regard to the usage of language.

7e may note a rare *ord' as in oureas men proton' the mules first

=he &illed>' *here the poet perhaps employs oureas not in the sense

of mules' but of sentinels. So' again' of ,olon: ill!favored indeed

he *as to loo& upon. It is not meant that his body *as ill!shaped

but that his face *as ugly) for the Cretans use the *ord eueides'

*ell!flavored to denote a fair face. Again' 5oroteron de &eraie'

mi1 the drin& livelier does not mean mi1 it stronger as for hard

drin&ers' but mi1 it (uic&er.

Sometimes an e1pression is metaphorical' as $o* all gods and men*ere sleeping through the night' *hile at the same time the poet

says: #ften indeed as he turned his ga5e to the Tro-an plain' he

marveled at the sound of flutes and pipes. All is here used metaphorically

for many' all being a species of many. So in the verse' alone she

hath no part... ' oie' alone is metaphorical) for the best &no*n

may be called the only one.

Again' the solution may depend upon accent or breathing. Thus ippias

of Thasos solved the difficulties in the lines' didomen 0didomen2

de hoi' and to men hou 0ou2 &ataputhetai ombro.

#r again' the (uestion may be solved by punctuation' as in "mpedocles:



#f a sudden things became mortal that before had learnt to be immortal'

and things unmi1ed before mi1ed.

#r again' by ambiguity of meaning' as paroche&en de pleo nu1' *here

the *ord pleo is ambiguous.

#r by the usage of language. Thus any mi1ed drin& is called oinos'

*ine. ence 4anymede is said to pour the *ine to 9eus' though

the gods do not drin& *ine. So too *or&ers in iron are called chal&eas'

or *or&ers in bron5e. This' ho*ever' may also be ta&en as a metaphor.

Again' *hen a *ord seems to involve some inconsistency of meaning'

*e should consider ho* many senses it may bear in the particular passage.

+or e1ample: there *as stayed the spear of bron5e! *e should as&

in ho* many *ays *e may ta&e being chec&ed there. The true mode

of interpretation is the precise opposite of *hat 4laucon mentions.

Critics' he says' -ump at certain groundless conclusions) they passadverse -udgement and then proceed to reason on it) and' assuming

that the poet has said *hatever they happen to thin&' find fault if

a thing is inconsistent *ith their o*n fancy.

The (uestion about Icarius has been treated in this fashion. The critics

imagine he *as a 8acedaemonian. They thin& it strange' therefore'

that Telemachus should not have met him *hen he *ent to 8acedaemon.

But the Cephallenian story may perhaps be the true one. They allege

that #dysseus too& a *ife from among themselves' and that her father

*as Icadius' not Icarius. It is merely a mista&e' then' that gives

plausibility to the ob-ection.

In general' the impossible must be -ustified by reference to artistic

re(uirements' or to the higher reality' or to received opinion. 7ith

respect to the re(uirements of art' a probable impossibility is to

be preferred to a thing improbable and yet possible. Again' it may

be impossible that there should be men such as 9eu1is painted. ?es'

*e say' but the impossible is the higher thing) for the ideal type

must surpass the realty. To -ustify the irrational' *e appeal to

*hat is commonly said to be. In addition to *hich' *e urge that the

irrational sometimes does not violate reason) -ust as it is probablethat a thing may happen contrary to probability.

Things that sound contradictory should be e1amined by the same rules

as in dialectical refutation! *hether the same thing is meant' in

the same relation' and in the same sense. 7e should therefore solve

the (uestion by reference to *hat the poet says himself' or to *hat

is tacitly assumed by a person of intelligence.

The element of the irrational' and' similarly' depravity of character'

are -ustly censured *hen there is no inner necessity for introducing

them. Such is the irrational element in the introduction of Aegeus by "uripides and the badness of 3enelaus in the #restes.



Thus' there are five sources from *hich critical ob-ections are dra*n.

Things are censured either as impossible' or irrational' or morally

hurtful' or contradictory' or contrary to artistic correctness. The

ans*ers should be sought under the t*elve heads above mentioned.

Part 6I

The (uestion may be raised *hether the "pic or Tragic mode of imitation

is the higher. If the more refined art is the higher' and the more

refined in every case is that *hich appeals to the better sort of

audience' the art *hich imitates anything and everything is manifestly

most unrefined. The audience is supposed to be too dull to comprehend

unless something of their o*n is thro*n by the performers' *ho therefore

indulge in restless movements. Bad flute!players t*ist and t*irl'

if they have to represent the (uoit!thro*' or hustle the coryphaeus

*hen they perform the Scylla. Tragedy' it is said' has this same defect.7e may compare the opinion that the older actors entertained of their

successors. 3ynniscus used to call Callippides ape on account of

the e1travagance of his action' and the same vie* *as held of Pindarus.

Tragic art' then' as a *hole' stands to "pic in the same relation

as the younger to the elder actors. So *e are told that "pic poetry

is addressed to a cultivated audience' *ho do not need gesture) Tragedy'

to an inferior public. Being then unrefined' it is evidently the lo*er

of the t*o.

$o*' in the first place' this censure attaches not to the poetic but

to the histrionic art) for gesticulation may be e(ually overdone in

epic recitation' as by Sosistratus' or in lyrical competition' as

by 3nasitheus the #puntian. $e1t' all action is not to be condemned!

any more than all dancing! but only that of bad performers. Such *as

the fault found in Callippides' as also in others of our o*n day'

*ho are censured for representing degraded *omen. Again' Tragedy li&e

"pic poetry produces its effect even *ithout action) it reveals its

po*er by mere reading. If' then' in all other respects it is superior'

this fault' *e say' is not inherent in it.

And superior it is' because it has an the epic elements! it may evenuse the epic meter! *ith the music and spectacular effects as important

accessories) and these produce the most vivid of pleasures. +urther'

it has vividness of impression in reading as *ell as in representation.

3oreover' the art attains its end *ithin narro*er limits for the concentrated

effect is more pleasurable than one *hich is spread over a long time

and so diluted. 7hat' for e1ample' *ould be the effect of the #edipus

of Sophocles' if it *ere cast into a form as long as the Iliad@ #nce

more' the "pic imitation has less unity) as is sho*n by this' that

any "pic poem *ill furnish sub-ects for several tragedies. Thus if

the story adopted by the poet has a strict unity' it must either be

concisely told and appear truncated) or' if it conforms to the "piccanon of length' it must seem *ea& and *atery. =Such length implies



some loss of unity'> if' I mean' the poem is constructed out of several

actions' li&e the Iliad and the #dyssey' *hich have many such parts'

each *ith a certain magnitude of its o*n. ?et these poems are as perfect

as possible in structure) each is' in the highest degree attainable'

an imitation of a single action.

If' then' tragedy is superior to epic poetry in all these respects'

and' moreover' fulfills its specific function better as an art! for

each art ought to produce' not any chance pleasure' but the pleasure

proper to it' as already stated! it plainly follo*s that tragedy is

the higher art' as attaining its end more perfectly.

Thus much may suffice concerning Tragic and "pic poetry in general)

their several &inds and parts' *ith the number of each and their differences)

the causes that ma&e a poem good or bad) the ob-ections of the critics

and the ans*ers to these ob-ections....

T" "$,

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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