Aristotle's poetics : literally translated, with explanatory notes and an analysis

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TRANSLATION

ARJSTOTLFs POETICS,

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NOTES AND ANALYSIS

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ARISTOTLE'S

POETICS.

ARISTOTLE'S

POETICS,

LITERALLY TRANSLATED,

EXPLANATORY NOTES,

AN ANALYSIS.

LONDON:

TRIMTED yOR G. & W. B. WHITTAKER,

■ Y n, BLISS, 21, WATER LANK,

FLEET STREET.

1819.

stack
Annex

PREFACE.

The following translation of Aristotle's Poetics is
intended solely for the use of Students. The chief
object which it has in view, is a strict adherence
to the original, for the attainment of which, the
English idiom is frequently, nay generally sacri-
ficed. It is very obvious that this circumstance
must render it a work of no elegance, but it was
never intended to be such. It was written for the
express purpose of assisting those, who might be
desirous of reading the book, for their instruc-
tion, both in the language and matter 5 and this
end is most readily attained by attending to the
exact meaning of every word in the original, ra-
ther than by giving what is called a free transla-
tion, that the sentences may be neatly rounded.

It sometimes happens, from the extreme precise-
ness of Aristotle's language, that the insertion of
some words which are not to be found in the
Greek, is absolutely necessary, to render the .iu-
thor's meaning at all perspicuous. Such words
will be found printed' in Italics^ so that the reader.

Yi PREFACE.

by leaving them out, may perceive the very ex-
pression which Aristotle employs.

In some places, where a close adherence to the
original has rendered the meaning obscure, the
reader will find it more fully explained in the
notes ; and in others, where a strict verbal transla-
tion would have been nonsense, the sense is ex-
pressed in the text, and the literal translation is
given in the notes. Utility is the object of this
work, and on the whole it is hoped, that it will
accomplish that object. If so, as no attempt at
elegance was ever made, no apology will be of-
fered for the clumsy, and sometimes inidomatic
language in which it is written.

To render its usefulness as complete as possible,
a brief Analysis of the whole book is subjoined.

Analjhis. 'fhe various kinds of poetry, as well as some
airs adapted to the flute and harp, are all imita-
tion, expressed by melody, rythm, and harmony.
They differ from one another in three particulars,
namely, in the nature of the instruments which
they employ, and of the objects which they imi-
tate, and in the manner in which that imitation iar
expressed. Music imitates by melody and rythm,
dancing by rythm alone, and epepeia by conversa-
tion in verse or prose. To the word epepeia an
extended sense is given, as it is applied to poems
of any sort, though in Aristotle's days, men had
classed poets according to the verse in which they
wrote. Dithyrajmbics, nomes, tragedy and come-
dy^ make use ^ all the three modes of imitation.

PREFACE. vii

Poetry, as well as painting, must in its imita-
tion represent men, as better or worse, or in the
same state with ourselves ; and this constitutes the
difference between tragedy and comedy, as fhe
first represents them as better, the last, as worse.
There were two causes which gave birth to poetry,
both of which were natural, viz. the desire of imi-
tation, and the love of harmony. Poetry there-
fore, which consisted originally of extemporaneous
effusions, was gradually improved upon, and as-
sumed a grave or satirical nature, according to the
dispositions of those, who made it their study j
whence some of the ancients became epic, and
others iambic poets.

Homer was the first who gave a form to come-
dy, and this he does in his Margeites. Some time
after, those who had turned their attention to the
composition of iambic poems, became writers of
comedy, and those who had preferred epic poems,
became writers of tragedy, the latter having pre-
viously been the inventors of dithyrambics, and
the former of obscene songs, ^schylus was the
first who introduced a second character, and short-
ened the songs of the chorus ; and Sophocles af-
terwards made the nimiber of speakers three. The
iambic measure likewise, came to be exclusively
adopted in such compositions. Comedy is the imi-
tation of what is ludicrous in the vile, that is, of
some error, or deformity which occasions no se-'
rious pain. Its history has been overlooked, be-

iriu PREFACE.

cause it was not from the first a subject of serious
study.

Epic poetry resembles tragedy, inasmuch as it is
an imitation in Averse, of men in high stations^ but
differs from it because it employs but one kind of
metre, and is besides a mere fiarration. They
differ, likewise, in length, tragedy being confined
to the occurrences of one day, epic poetry includ-
ing an indefinite space of time. Tragedy is the
imitation of a noble and perfect action, which is
of a proper magnitude, expressed in agreeable
language, possessing a distinctness of pleasure,
produced by action, not by narrative, and purify-
ing the passions by means of fear and pity. Its
parts, from which it derives its quality, are six,
namely, the story, the manner, the discourse, the
sentiment, the scenery, and the melody. Of these,
the story, or the connection of the actions, is of
the first importance. Next comes manner, be-
cause it is always the cause of action ; then senti-
ment, because by it, the actors make an enuncia-
tion ; then discourse, which is the explanation of
our meaning in words ; then melody, because it is
most productive of pleasure ; and lastly scenery.

The story must be the imitation of an entire ac-
tion, neither too long nor too short. If it be too
long, the beginning is forgotten, before the end is
learnt ; and if too short, it must be rendered weak,
aad loose its unity, by the insertion of many epi-

PREFACE. IX

sodes. The greater it is, however, as long as it
retains its perspicuity, the better. It possesses
unity, not if it relate the adventures of some indi-
vidual, but if it choose for its subject, one single
action of that individual, and so arrange it, that
by the removal or alteration of any one part, the
whole story will be changed. The poet must not
confine himself to truth, but only to verisimilitude.
And this it is which constitutes the difference be-
tween poetry and history — that the one treats of
general principles, and the other of particular ac-
tions. It is not even necessary that the tragedy
be founded on traditionary stories — but it may be —
and although the poet may relate what has really
happened, he is, nevertheless, the author of that
action.

Those simple stories are the worst, which are
interspersed with many episodes. Those again
are best adapted for tragedy, which relate a conse-
quence of actions which is contrary to expectation,
and the occurrence of fortuitous events in such a
manner, as that they appear to have in them some-
thing of design. Of stories, some are simple and
others complex. Simple are those which are car-
ried through, without any peripatie or recognition ;
and complex, those whicli possess one or both of
these. Peripatie is the probable or necessary
change of an action to its opposite ; and recog-
nition, the change from ignorance to knowledge,
which produces either friendship or animosity be-
tween the persons doomed to happiness or misery.

X PREFACE.

Of this latter, the best kind is when it takes place
at the same moment of time with the peripatie,
because recognitions may be occasioned by the
sight of inanimate objects, or by accidental occur-
rences. Besides these, passion also has reference
to the subject of the story. By passion is meabt
the performance of any action Avhich will occasion
pain or death.

The parts of tragedy according to its quantity
are, prologue, episode, exode, and chorus. The
prologue is that part of the tragedy, which pre-
cedes the parodus of the chorus 5 the episode, that
which ifi between the entire songs of the chorus j
and the exode, that, after which there is no song
of the chorus. Of the* chorus there are two parts
— the parodus, and the stasimon. The parodus
is the first speech of the whole chorus, and the
stasimon is the song which is without anapaeste
and trochaeus. The commus again, is the weep-
ing on the stage of both players and chorus.

The story of a man who is conspicuous neither
for his virtue nor his vice, but who falls from a
state of happiness to one of misery, from some great
error, and no crime, is the best suited to tragedy.
In the opinion 01 some, the story of a tragedy ought
to be complex, of others, simple. These latter say
likewise, that the change should be from good to
bad fortune. Fear and pity ought to arise out of
the connection of events, that is, the story ought
to be of such a nature, that the bare repetition of it.

PREFACE. xi

•\vithoyt the aid of scenery or acting', should excite
feelings of dread. and compassion. These passions
are excited by the conduct of a friend towards a
friend, an enemy towards an enemy, or of indiffe-
rent persons towards each other. The two latter,
however, are either matters of perfect indifference,
or such as do not rouse those feelings in a suflB-
cient degree. The first therefore is that which tra-
gedians ought to describe. The modes of describ-
ing it also are various. The agent is represented
as possessed of knowledge at the time he acts, or
as acting first, and then making a discovery, which
either forms a part of the piece, or is related as
having happened j or as intending to do some in-
expiable deed, and making a discovery before it
is done. The last of these methods is to be pre-
ferred.

With respect to the manner which an author
gives to his characters, he must take care that it be
useful, becoming, like, and equal. The unravel-
ling of the plot, likewise, must proceed from the
story, and machinery be used only when relating
those circumstances which form no part of the re-
presentation; and no action must appear to be with-
out an object. Recognition may be produced in
various ways. First, by certain marks which the
person is supposed to have upon his body either
naturally, or accidentally j secondly, by causes which
the poet has himself invented ; thirdly, by the ex-
citement of any recollection ; and fourthly, by the
force of inference. It may also be brought about

xii PREFACE.

by causes which deceive the audience, but the best
manner of effecting it, is by the chain of events.

In connecting his story and polishing his lan-
guage, the poet ought frequently to ask himself the
reason for such and such actions, by which means
he will be less likely to permit errors of any kind
to pass uncorrected. The player also should at-
tend to his gestures and tone of voice, so as to
adapt them to the passion which he intends to re-
present. It would be well, therefore, if the poet
were first to draw a general outline of his story,
and afterwards fill it up.

Every tragedy is composed of a plot and an un-
ravelling. The plot comprehends all those events
which have taken place before the period of the
plays commencement, and from that commence-
ment until the change begins to take place. The
unravelling, all that follows. There are four kinds
of tragedy, — complex, pathetic, moral, and that
which has its scene in Hades. In writing, care
should be taken that both the plot and unravelling
be properly conducted, and that the play do not
resemble an epic composition. And this will be
the case if a subject be chosen which comprehends
under it too many stories. The chorus likewise
should be considered as part of the company of
performers, and their songs ought always to have
reference to the subject of the piece.

Sentiment, as it belongs to the art of reasoning.

PREFACE. xiil

is explained in the treatise upon rhetoric, and dis-
course which relates to the definition of command,
entreaty, interrogation, reply, and such like, must
be studied rather by the player than the poet. (Here
follows a definition of the various parts of speech.)
In defining noun, Aristotle tells us, that a proper
noun is one which belongs to a particular language ;
a foreign, one Avhich is introduced into one lan-
guage from another ; metaphor, when a word is
used to express that which in its strict meaning it
could not express ; invented, one which has received
no definite signification from any other person be-
sides the author; extended, when the word is length-
ened either by the addition of another syllable or
by changing a short vowel into a long ; diminished,
the reverse of this; and changed, when the author
retains part of a word already in use, and adds some-
thing of his own.

The excellence of discourse is, that it be perspi-
cuous, without being mean, therefore great care is
necessary that a too frequent use be not made of
any one of these nouns, but that they be properly
intermixed, and used in their proper places. The
most important of all, however, is the right appli-
cation of metaphor. Double words agree best with
dithyrambics, foreign with heroic, and metaphor
with iambic v^rse.

An epic poem ought to resemble a tragedy, by-
being the representation of a whole and perfect ac-
tion, with a beginning, a middle, and an end; and

Xiv PREFACE.

not, like history, to record the different events
■which may have happened within any definite pe-
riod. Homer's Iliad and Odyssey are excellent
specimens, for their stories are in truth very short,
and adorned with many episodes. It ought like-
wise to be simple, complex, moral, or pathetic, and.
with the exception of music and scenery, its parts
ought to resemble those of a tragedy. But they
differ in the length of the compositions, and in the
measures which they employ. Epic poetry excels
tragedy in the facility with which it shifts its scene,
and introduces episodes.

Of all kinds of verse the heroic or hexameter is
best adapted for an epic poem, and a mixture of
those different kinds, is the least. Homer is parti-
cularly to be commended, because he appears him-
self to say little, but always introduces something
possessed of manner to speak for him, and because
every object which he presents, whether animate
or inanimate, possesses this quality.

The chief end of both tragedy and epic poetry
is to produce the wonderful, which the latter has
much greater facility of doing, because those things
may be related, with an appearance of probability,
which would not at all bear representation. Ho"
mer also has instructed writers in the best method
of telling lies, which is done by paralogism, or false
reasoning. In choosing incidents, those which are
perfectly impossible, and yet possess verisimilitude,
are preferable to those which are possible, though

PREFACE. XV

not likely to gain belief. And care should be taken
that none be introduced which are without an ap-
parent reason. The language ought to be most
highly polished in those passages which exhibit
neither manner nor sentiment.

To the objections which are made to poetry>
namely, that it does not preserve a strict adherence
to nature, and such like, the answer is, that the
poet imitates like the painter, by preserving the
likeness, although he may flatter the original.
There are two faults to which poetry is liable —
one, when it attempts to imitate things beyond its
stretch, and this is said to flow from itself — an-
other, when the choice is improperly made, al-
though the subject be within its reach, which
proceeds from accident. It may offend likewise
against other arts, such as anatomy, &c. yet the
poet is to be excused, if by the commission of
these errors he attain the end he has in view,
namely, to make his narrative wonderful, which
could not have been otherwise accomplished. But
if this be not absolutely necessary, he is decidedly
wrong.

When a poet is accused of violating truth, he
must excuse himself by saying, that he means to
represent men either better or worse than they
really are, or that he relates what men currently
report ; and if it be said that he makes his cha-
racter speak or act improperly, he must advise the
critic to look to the peculiarity of circumstances.

xvi PREFACE.

and the end to be attained. He may affirm also
that an expression is used in a foreign sense, or
metaphorically. He may alter the accent, or the
pointing, or he may give a double meaning to the
word objected to. When a word will bear two
opposite explanations, care must be taken in dis-
covering, how it is intended to be used ia the ex-
pression before us.

Many critics condemn a work on account of any
contradiction there may be in it, to some prejudice
of their own j in which case, that which is by them
put down as an error, is at most only a quaere.
When the critic declares that any thing is impos-
sible, we must defend it by saying, that in poetry,
the credible impossible is better than the possible
incredible, or that an example ought always to be
perfect of its kind. When he says that it is un-
reasonable, the answer is, that it is very reason-
able that many improbabilities should happen.
This unreasonableness hewever is bad, unless
there be an absolute necessity for it.

In describing the comparative escellence of epic
and tragic compositions, some men give a pre-
ference to the former. In it, they say, the poet is
better able to represent many things, as in the
act of going on at the same time, and it requires
no gestures nor outward aids to assist it. It is
adapted to the better kinds of auditors, and is
therefore itself superior, liut this is wrong, be-
cause the faults of gesture and scenerj- are not to

PREFACE. xtif

be attributed to tragedy or its writers. Besides,
all motion is not improper, but only such as is
obscene ; and even without it, tragedy eCFects its
purpose as completely as epic poetry. It therefore
possesses every advantage which belongs to the
other, and has the peculiar power of producing
pleasure by means of scenery and music. Its imi-
tation likewise, is included within a shorter space,
and that which is most condensed is always most
agreeable. Its unity also is more complete, of
which we must be convinced if we observe, that
out of one epic poem, many tragedies may be
made.

Since then it excels in all these particulars, and
above all in the attainment of its end, it may be
pronounced to be altogether superior.

AEISTOTLE'S

POETICS.

I. Beginning in a natural order, from first prin-
ciples, we will treat of poetry itself, and its differ-
ent kinds, and the particular force which each kind
possesses ; of the manner in which an author
ought to arrange his story> if the poem be in-
tended to be a good one ,• of how many, and what
parts a poem ought to consist ; and likewise of
other matters ' which relate to that study.

II. Epic Poetry, and the composition of Tra-
gedy, as well as Comedy and Dithyrambics, ' toge-
ther with most of those airs which are suited to
the flute and harp, are all, generally speaking, imi-
tation. They differ from one another in three par-

1 It is impossible to translate this literally. The Greek
words are era, r»e uvtvs iri fitBoitv : as many as belong to thif
method or arrangement.

2 Aristotle includes music under the head of poetry, because
it U in fact a species of it. That poetry and music were es<
tfemed species of the same genus, is evident, from the same
Greek word being made use of to express both. He says most
airs, because there are many tune* which certainly imitate no-
thing..

B

2 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS,

ticulars : the imitation is made, either by instru-
ments differing in their natures ; or the things
which they imitate are in themselves different j or
the mode of imitation is different.

III. ' For as in expressing resemblances, some
men imitate with colour and form, (some artifi-
cially, and some from habit) and others with the
voice j so in the arts already mentioned, all of
them imitate by means of * rythm, discourse, and
harmony j and these taken either separately, or
joined together. Airs played upon the flute or
harp, for example, or upon any other instrument
which may have the same effect — such as the pipe,
make use only of harmony and rythm ; but the
motions of dancers imitate by rythm without har-
mony } for by their figured cadences, (or rythms)
they represent manners, passions, and actions*
•'• Epic Poetry again, employs conversation, expressed
in prose or verse; either indiscriminately mixing
the various kinds of verse, or, as hath hitherto
been the case, making use of one alone. JVcre it

3 Until the publication of Tyrwliitt's edition of the Poetics,
tliis pnssag'e was extremely difficult. The aUeratioa which he
has made in the pointing, )>»< rendered it much more intelligi-
ble, and seems to give to it the sense which we have adopted.

4 Rythm means here, no more than n measnred cadence, or
regulated movement. Discourse applies either to verse or
prose ; and harmony sigoiiicg miitiic aloue.

5 To talk of an epic poem in prose, appears not a liitle con-
tradictory ; yet why should it ? There are many romances, which
are as much epic poems, as if each line contained only a certain
nauiber of feet: besides, the word is derived from t*»i, in the
Greek, which signtlies a story, either in verse or prose.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 3

not so, we could not possibly class under the same
head, the farces of Sophron and Xenarchus, and
the dialogues of Socrates ; nor the works of him
who might express his imitations in iambic, ele-
giac, or any other kind of verse. ^ Men, it is true,
arranging poetry by its rythm, call some poets ele-
giac, and others epic j bestowing this denomina-
tion upoa them, not from the subjects which they
imitate, but from the metre which they make use
of: for even upon those who write treatises on
medicine, or natural philosophy, provided they be
composed in verse, this appellation is bestowed.
Between Homer and Empedocles, however, there is
nothing in common but the verse. The first,
therefore, may be justly called a poet, but the last,
a physiologist rather than a poet. In like manner,
if one, confusedly mixing together all kinds of
poetry, were to produce an imitation, as Chajremon
did in the Centaur, a mixed, rhapsody, written in
all kinds of verse, surely we ought not to call such
a man a poet. In this manner have we rendered
our meaning clear on these subjects.

There are some arts which employ all the in-
struments we have mentioned. I mean rythm,
melody, and measure. Such is the composition of
'' dithyrambics and nomes, tragedy and comedy.

6 It would appear from tliis, that all who wrote in hexaine-
trrs, were <]i}{niri''d with the title cf epic poets; and that those
who fOiiiposed in hexameter and peataiueter alternately, were
called ciej;-iac.

7 Dittiyrainbics were hymns repeated in honour of Bacchus ;
Homes, of Apollo: hath were accomjianied with sii-^inif and
daaciiifr. Th.ere was this difference between them — that the

4 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

* They differ, however, in the use of them, because
the two first bring them all into play, during the con-
tinuance of the whole piece ; the two last, only at cer-
tain periods. These I call the differences of arts,
as far as relates to the means by which they express
imitation.

IV. But since those who express imitation, imi-
tate willing agents ; and since these must be
either virtuous or vicious, (* for habits are gene-
rally attendant upon such alone ; and all men dif-
fer according as their habits incline to virtue or
Vice), it beconi?s necessary that those should be
imitated, who are either better or worse than our-
selves ; or "* whose habits resemble our own. Thu$,
among painters, " Polygnotus made his likenesses
better than the originals — Pauson worse — and Dio-

fir«t were fery loud, and in the Phrygian tone ; tlie last soft,
aiid in the Lydian. In tragedy and cuaiedy, the <lial<>vue nay
carried on in verse alone; whilst in tiie chorus, tiie verse wa»
acc;)mpaniedwith sinyiiinr and daacing.

8 This, it will be perceived, is not translated literally, for
the obvious reason, that the meaning of the author could not be
suflPicieutly elucidated.

9 This is obvious enough; for habit, or manner, («3»») can
only be (ircdicated of n willing, or rather of a free agent; and
it is but frtini their habits being good or bad, that ukii's cha-
racters are decided. We have rendered !rjaTT«»T«f u-illing
egenU, to avoid any niisa|>|>reheii!>iou of the epithet as now un-
demtood, when ap[:lied to agents.

10 Ka^' hfitf.

11 Polygnotus was a native of the island of Thasns. lie al-
ways chose grand subjects for his paintings, and executed thoiu
well. Dionrsiiis of Ci.Iophon. They b:>th lived in the tiintt of
Xerxes afld SophocU-s. Pniison is supposed to have been un
inKaliiitaat of Licyauia. He was the tirst who panned ceiliujjs.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. * 5

nysius exactly the same. It is evident, indeed,
that each of the above mentioned modes of imita-
tion, will have this distinction ; and that they will
differ one from another, by their employing the
same mode of imitating things which are in them-
selves ditferent. These dissimilarities are discovered
to exist in dancing, in airs for the flute and for the
harp, as likewise in stories told either in prose or
verse. Thus Homer imitates men who were better
than ourselves— C\eo\t\\ou men who were like; but
Hegemon the Thasian, who first made parodies,
and Nichochares, who composed the Deliad, imi-
tated men who were worse. In this manner, like-
wise, may a poet express imitation in the use of
dithyrambics and nomes, " as Timotheus and Phi-
loxenus did in the Arga^ and Cyclopsfi. In this
particular distinction does tragedy differ from co-
medy : namelj*, it is the oflice of the one, to imi-
tate men who were worse-— of the other, those who
were better than men of the present day.

V. '* But among these there is a third difference,

12. It is very difficult to say uliat is the ineaniug of tliis pas-
. sag-e, but it ajippars to be as we Iiave reiulcred it. Tiuiotbeus
was a poet of Miletuui, who w rote a grtrut many uoincs and di-
thyrambics. The Greek word, which we have rendered Arg<e,
is in some editions irittaf, this would make the pussag^e mucli
more plain, because he celebrated the victory of the Athenian.^
over the Persians. Philoxenus was a famous dithyrambic poet
who lived in Plato's time, and who satirized Dionysius the ty-
rant, in his Cyclops, under the uame of Polyphemus.

13 Aristotle has already taken notice of the sul)j<:cts of imita-
tion, and of the instruments which are employed ; nnd he uovr
prooeeds to point out the different modes of using Uicse iastru-
neuts.

€ AEISTOTLE'S POETICS.

which consists in the mode in which a poet may'
imitate each : for the same subjects may be imi-
tated by the same instruments, '♦ as well when the
poet tells a story, (either acting some other person,
as Homer does, or remaining without change in
his own character) or when he introduces all the
parties imitated, as active and busy personages,
'^. In these three particulars then, does imitation
differ, as we said at the beginning : in the instru-
ments which it emploifs, in the subjects which it
imitates, and in the mode of erpressing that imita-
tion. In one point of view, therefore, Sophocles,
as an imitator, may be considered to resemble Ho-
mer ; because they both imitate men of high cha-
racter : in another, to resemble Aristophanes ; be-
cause they both imitate men who act their ovvri
parts, tt was for this reason, some say, that such
uritings as their's received the appellation of playsi
(Sgaaara) because they imitated {^poovrac) men
who act. Whence also the Dorians claim to them-
selves the invention of tragedy and comedy : the
Magarians, agaia, of Comedy, (both those of this
country, because democracy first began among
them } and those in Sicily, because there Epichar-

14 This passage has much o)>t«eurit,v in it, but appears to
bear this meaning'. In an epic pocm^the aiuhor sometimps ne-
latos the adventure^ of another peison; at others, is the hero
of his own story. In dithyrainbic poems, the poet merely re-
peats a narrrative, and in tragedy and comedy, he, nerer makes
his app<'araiice at all : the pjajers a/e tbeorgaiM tlirttogh which
he tells his story.

16 Literally : The imitation consists of, or is accompuaied
with, these three distinctions.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. f

mug the poet was horn, who ^ottrisfted long before
the time of Chonnidus and Magnetus) and some of
the Dorians in the Peloponnesus, of tragedy ; mak-
ing the words a proof in support of their claim. The
first affirm, that they call the villages scattered*
round their city xoofji,at ; whereas the Athenians-
call them 8rj]u.o» : and that the name comedian
was g;iven to players, not from the circumstance of
their being guests, (xcojxa^siv), but from their wan-
dering through the villages, wheri they had bteri
driven with disgrace from the city ; and that th^y
express "to act" by the word Sfav; whilst the
Athenians call it TrpatTTsiv. Respecting differences
of imitation— of what nature, and how many they
are, so much hath been said.

VI. Two causes, in a general point of view, ap-
pear to have given birth to poetry j and these na^
tural. In the first place, imitation is natural to
man from his childhood : and in this respect doe»
he differ from other animals— that he is the most
imitative of all, and that by means of imitation,
he acquires the first rudiments of knowledge j and
all men delight in imitation. Real occurrences
are a proof of this ; for those very objects which
we actually behold with the greatest disgust, we
are pleased with, if we see their resemblances very
accurately taken— -such as pictures of the most sa-
vage beasts, and of dead bodies. The reason is,
that to acquire knotvledge is the greatlest pleasilre,
not to philosophers aloae^ but to others alsa>

8 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

'® thouc^h they have but a small participation in it.
Men, therefore, are delighted when they behold
pictures, because when looking at them, they can
enquire and learn what each represents j that such
a picture, for example, represents such a main If,
again, the spectator may not chance to have pre-
viously seen the original, it is not the likeness which
will produce the pleasure, but it will arise from the
execution, the colouring, or some other such cause.
In the second place, imitation being natural to us,
as well as harmony and rythm, (for that versifica-
tion is only a part of rythm is evident,) '^ those
who originally were best fitted by nature for such
pursuits, '* formed poetry from their extempora-
neous effusions, by gradually improving them.

. VII. Poetry assumed diiferent characters, ac-
cording to the peculiar habits of the writers.
Those of a graver turn of mind, imitate 1 honour-
able actions, and the adventures of honouraijle
men : those of a looser turn, the adventures of bad

16 There is a differencp of opinion respectinfif the preciie
meauiiig of this pa:>!iaure. 8oine 8uppoke that it alludes to the
small stock of knowlcdg'e, whicii cii'ciiinstaiices will peiiiiit the
g-enerality of mankind to acqiiiii' ; and others, to the deg-ree of
capacity they possess for acquiring it.

17 Tbig is the second of those two Natural causes which, he
says, gave rise to poetry. Without a naturaljnclination to har-
mony and ryllHii,<uen never could have invented poetry, how-
ever great tli«ir imitative faculty might have been.

18 Aristotle here informs us that the first beginnings of poe-
try were rude songs delivered extempore, probably at the ruda
festirals of a rude society.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 9

men ; at first, writing abusive pieces, as the others
did hymns and encomiums. We cannot mention
a poem of that nature, written by any of those who
lived before the days of Homer, though it is probable
that there were many : but, beginning from Ho-
mer, we can ; '^ as his Margeites, /or example, and
others of that kind, "" in v.'hich the iambic mea-
sure Jirst came into use, as best adapted for such
compositions : and this is the reason why it is now
called iambic— because men railed at one anothet
in that measure.

Vin. And thus some of the poets among the
ancients became Heroic, and others Iambic, BUt^
as Homer was the chief of those poets whose siith-
jects were serious, (not because he alone handled
them well, '" but because he gave to his imitations
a dramatic effect) so also he was the first who
pointed out a form for comedy 3 making of it a
play, " not full of scurrility, but such as would ex-
cite laughter J for the Margeites has the same ana-
logy to comedy, which the Iliad and Odyssey havft
to tragedy.

19 A satyrical popm coinpose<i upon a man of thai name^
who was Ko lazy that he couhl do nothing.

20 It wutilil appear from tliis, that th« lanihic measure was
Dot always used in such poems, hut that from this period it was
exclusively so employed, and the heroic or hexameter confined
eutirely to etrauiaia, or graver productions.

1i\ Any man uiio will examine the Hind and Odysiey, ajid
who can judge «f the various excellencirs cimtiiined in them,
— such as the action, the disposition, the management of the
subject, Uc. ^lill see the justice of this remark.

'2'i Vaytf vitis a poem which contained little else than p('r>
8ouul abuse.

10 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

IX. But tragedy and comedy having once made
tlieir appearance, those, who from the natural bent
of their minds, bestowed their attention upon either
species of poetry, became, one set of them, writers
of comedy, instead of iambics, and the other, of tra-
gedy instead of epic poems, because these forms
were of greater importance, and more esteemed
than the others. To examine minutely whether
tragedy has now brought its forms to perfection,
or not, judging of it either by itself, as a poem, or
with reference to the theatre, is subject for another
discussion. '^ Tragedy and comedy, therefore,
were at first extemporaneous effusions : the last
was introduced by those who gave rise to dithy-
rambics j the first, by the composers of obscene
songs, (which continue even now in some cities,
supported by the authority of the law) and gra-
dually increased ; men bringing it forward^ *as it
rendered itself conspicuous.

X. '* Tragedy having undergone many changes,
ceased changing, after it had attained to its own na-
ture, '* The first person who increased the number

23 This spntence is so invpitefl tliat it is impiiKsihlo to make
English ot it except by clividinj;- it, and putting- the auxiliary
verb in place of tlie panicle.

24 This is by no means a solution of the question, whether
trnjeHy had brouiLflit its foinis to perfection. Me only mcnns
that it hail acquired ail the csscutiais of its nature, tliouyh per-
haps those essentials miylit not been snfticiently polislied.

2.1 Trag-f'dy consisted orii^inally of notiving- but sonif and
cliorus. iCsciiylus introduced a second perPornier, who sup-
ported a dialo(^;)ie with the first, and thus render«:d the piece
much more iutercstuig. He.aliioso far chunked the nature of

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. H

of performers from one to two, shortened the songs
of the Chorus, and supplied the piece with a princi-
pal character, was ^Eschyhis j and Sophocles made
them three, and introduced painted scenery : '^ but
it was some time before dignity was given to it,
by extending its length from short stories and a
ridiculous action to its present form, (on account of
the change it had to undergo from its satirical na-
ture) ; and before the measure became iambic, in-
stead of tetrametre. Originally, men made use of
the tetrametre, because poetry was satirical, and
accompanied with dancing : but when dialogue was
introduced, nature herself suggested the measure
which was proper ; for the iambic is, of all mea-
sures, the best adapted for conversation. The
proof is, that in conversing with one another, we
pronounce many iambics ; but hexameters rare-
ly, and only when we exceed the propriety cf
speech. The number of episodes likewise, and the
other things which are esteemed ornamental, were

jhc chorus, that instead of beinw the principal part of the per-
formance to wliich the speech of the actor was only a rest, it
became a rent to the diahig-iie. By introdiicingf a second speaker,
he necessarily made one the principal, and the other the secon-
dary character ; and this is evidently what is meant by the Greek
words, which are sometimes translated prologue.

26 The meaning of this will be obvious enough, if the reader
will rtcullect that the first tragedies were merely songs suii^p
in honour of Bacchus. They were not altogether what wouW
now be termed satyrical. They were partly grave, and partly
jocose, yet almost intirely made up of abusive obscenity, wtiicli
the singers heaped upon one auother in honor of the Gods. They
were likewise accompanied with dancing and a variety of ges-
tures, for which reason the tetrametre verse was used, being
best ada|ited for such purposes. It consists of Trochaee*} whi^
have two feet, one long and one short.

It ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

graduaily increased. What we have said on these
subjects must suffice ; for it were a work of con-
siderable labour, to enter minutely into each.

XI, Comedy, as we were saying, is the imitation
of men worse than ourselves, though not in every
species of fault, but of that part of the vile which
is ludicrous ; but the ludicrous consists of some
•error and deformity, which does not occasion pain
or death : thus a face, hideous and distorted with-
out suffering, is immediately considered ludicrous.
The chatiges in tragedy, and the causes from which
those changes sprang, liave not eluded our search :
but comedy, as it was not from the first a subject
of serious study, has been overlooked ; ^ it was
even long before the magistrate gave the chorus to
comedies, but they were voluntary : but after it
had received some form, men, called its poets, are
mentioned. ^ Who it was that added the mask,
the prologue, the number of performers, and other
matters of this kind, is unknown. Epicharmus and
Phormes were the first to compose fables. It
therefore came originally from Sicily. Of those
who Nourished at Athens, Crates was the first, who.

97 The person wlio superintended the performance of a play,
and was at all the char:»'o, was railed the Archon. He pur-
chased the piece from the poet, and was at the cxpence of its
representation. It would appear, that comedy, for a lonc^ time,
was of siicii low esteem that it was acted onl)' by private persons,
and consequently that the chorus was composed of volunteers.

?8 It is almost needless to remark, that all players anionj
the antients >Yore masks. When comedy besfan to be more es-
teemed it received all the dccoratioss which tragedy had.

ARISTOTLE S POETICS. fS

* dropping the iambic form, began to make argu-
ments and stories on general subjects.

XII. Epic poetry resembles tragedy in its mea-
sure alone, by being an imitation in verse of men
of distinction } but in this they differ— that epic
poetry employs but one kind of verse, and is a
narrative : and likewise in the length ; for ^^ tra-
gedy endeavours, as much as possible, to be com-
prehended within one revolution of the sun, or a
very little to exceed it j whereas, epic poetry is un-
conBned as to time, and in this it differs. Origi-
nally, indeed, men did the same in this respect in
tragedy, as in epic poetry. Their component parts,
however, are the same, though there are some pe-
culiar to tragedy. On this account, whoever can
distinguish between a good and a bad tragedy, has
the same knowledge also in epic compositions ; for
those qualities which epic has, tragedy possesses ;
but those which tragedy possesses, do not all be-
long to epic.

XIII. Of imitation in hexameter, and of co-
medy, we will speak by and by ; in the mean time
let us treat of tragedy, assuming the definition of
its essence from what has gone before. Tragedy

29 WIio altered It from being nothings but a string of eoftrse
raillery.

30. By tJiis, Aristotle means, that the story of a trat»'e<Iyshoiild
not include a space of time more extended than ten or twelve
hours ; that an action hcgun in the moniinj^ should epd bef«re
night 3 and one begun at night should end before morning.
C

14 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

then, is the imitation of a noble and perfect action,
which is of prajier magnitude ; eXpfessed in agree-
able language, with the kind of pleasure peculiar
to each of its parts kept separate : produced by ac-
tors, not by narrative ; and effecting a refinement
of such of our passions, as are represented by means
of pity and fear. I call that an agreeable style,
which has rythm, harmony, and melody ; and by
the distinction of the kinds of pleasure I mean,
'' that some should be rendered complete by mea-
sure alone— others again, by melody.

XIV. But since actors produce this imitation,
the arrangement of the decorations will necessa-
rily, in the first place, ^ form a certain part of the
tragedy ; and next, melody and discourse : for by
thuse do they produce the imitation. I call dis-
course, the very arrangement of the measures, but
melody, that which makes its effects manifest to
all. Since thea it is the imitation of an action,
and represented by actors, who must necessarily be
of a certain description, as to their habits and sen-
timents, (for by these do we pronounce actions to
be of a particular kind), there must be two natural
causes of action ; namely, sentiment and habit, ac-

31 In the dialog-ue verse alone is used ; verse, music, and
daacing-, in one part of the chorus, and verse and music in ano^
ther.

32 He calls it a certain part, because it bclong'S to it only
when acted, and not when read. Music and verse he does not
explain, be*anse their eff'eftts are felt by nil. They are not ne-
cessarily parU of a Irag'edj', but amdng the Greeks Mferc ainftyt
added.

ABISTOTLE'? POETICS. 15

cording to which, all are perfect or imperfect in
acting. But the story is the imitation of an ac-
.tion ; for I call that the story, which is the putting
.together of things done ; those the manners, by
which we declare the actors to be of such or sucli a
quality j and that the sentiment, in which, by
speaking, they point out any thing, or declare an
opinion. There must therefore be six parts of a
tragedy, from which it derives its quality : these
are, the story, the manner, the discourse, the sen-
timent, the scenery, and the melody. ^ The inr
struments with which they imitate, are two of the
parts, — the mode of imitation one, and the things
imitated three j and besides these, there is none else.

XV. There are not a few of the poets, so to
speak, who make use of these forms ; as every
drama equally possesses gcenery, manner, story, disi
course, melody, and sentiment : but of these, the
putting together of actions is of the greatest im-f
portance. For tragedy is an imitation, not of men^
but of actions, ^^ of human life, and of happiness
and misery ^ ^^ and as happiness consists in action.

33 The instruments of imitation are discourse an J melody ;
tlie manners are the mode ; and the Kubjeuts of imitation, are the
•tory, the scenery, and the sentiments.

34 Aristotle d*es not by this mean to sdy, that a trag^dj
ffHg'ht to be tlie history of a man\ whole life, but only of his
^<Mi or bad fortune, that is, of some sing-le action in Li* life,
whieh occasions his happiness or misery.

36 Ou this subject Aristotle eaters at gireat length in bin
Ethics : he there proves that happiness (wliich is the priza far
wiiicU all m^tA titru^gle) Ctfiisjiit&in virtuous «ue>=|^y. Wef» it;

16 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

so the end at which we aim is action, add not qua-
lity. ^^ Men are of such and such a quality, ac-
ording to their manners ; but according to theilr
actions they are happy or the reverse. They do
not therefore act, that they may imitate manners,
but take manners along with them, by means of
tl)eir actions. Thus actions and the story form the
main object of tragedy; and the main object is
that which, in all things, is of the greatest impor-
tance. Besides, without action, tragedy could not
exists whilst without manners it might ; for the
tragedies of most moderns are without manner,
and many poets are altogether of this nature. Si-
milarly situated was Zeuxis with respect to Po-
lygnotus, among painters ; for Polygnotus was a
good painter of manners, whilst the paintings of
Zeuxis hatl no manner at all. Moreover, if one
should produce a collection of moral .sayings, in
language and sentiments well expressed, he would
not perform the office of tragedy ; but that is much
more a trsigedy, which uses these more sparingly,
and possesses a story and a connection of actions.
In addition to this we have to remark, that the most
ready means by which tr -gedy attracts the atteu-

tr> be made np of pnssive qualiticK, a man mig'ht be asleep all his
days, and jet be happy. •

36 A man's moral fee)iD|fs and his actions may ?ery well be alt
Tariance. His disposition may be gcwA, and yet he may com-
aiit such actions, urged on too hy t'nat very di!>|)osititMi, us will
Riost certainly render him niiseriilile. On the stage iu parti-
cular, to which Aristotle here alludes, the happine!>s or misery
oi the chai'act«r repreceutedj mu»t result fruiu his uctiwus alune.

AniSTOTLE'S POETICS. it

'tion, are parts of the story ; namely, ^^ peripatie and
recognition. The proof is, that those \tho endea-
vour to write tragedies, are much sooner able to
be correct in their diction and manner, than in the
connection of actions, as was the case with almost
all the ancient poets. The story, therefore, is the
lirst principle, and, as it were, the soul of tragedy j
^ and next, manners.. (And here the art much re-
sembles painting j for if one were to paint with
the most beautiful colours, promiscuously blended-
together, he would not give so much pleasure, as
he who took likenesses in chalk. But tragedy is
the imitation of action, and therefore particularly
so of agents). Thirdly, sentiment : and this is,
the being able to express those things which be-
long to, and are in harmony with, the subject ; but
what relates to speeches, it is the office of politics
and rhetoric to set forth ; for the ancient poets
made their characters speak politically, the mo-
derns, rhetorically. Manner again, is that which
declares the previous intention of the speaker,
what it may be. Sbme speeches, therefore, have

37 The peripaties are the revolutions and changes of fortaoe,
which, tiie hero of the piece iiudergoes. Recognition is the
knowledge which the persons represented in the drama, acquire
of one another, and which they are supposed either not to have
previously had, or to have forgotten. It generally takeS plaee
at the conclusion, and brings about the catastrophe.

38 The respective merits of the different parts of tragedy ate
admirably well arranged. The proper connection of the actions
tir incidents deservedly holds the first place. Next conies man-
ner, because manners or habits are always the cause of action* ;
tl>e proper disposition and maintaining of Mhich, do for tbepoet|
what a proper distributi^a «f lioluvrs .dacs far 4 poiuter.

18 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

no manner ; J mean those by which it does not ap-
pear what the speaker intends either to choose or
to avoid. ^ But sentiment is that by which men
point out how a thing is, or how it is not ; or, in
general terms, by which they make an enunciation.
Fourth in order, is the pronunciation of speeches.
But I say, as has been said before, that discourse is
an explanation of ourmeaning by the help of word"?,
and which has the same force, when delivered ei-
ther in verse or prose. *° Of the remaining five
parts, melodj is the most productive of pleasure.
♦' Scenery, to be sure, is very attractive to the at-
tention, hut it depends little on the art, and is the
part least peculiarly belonging to poetry ; for the
force of tragedy exists without the performance or
performers. Besides, in the arrangement of the
shew, the art of the scene-painter has more effect
than that of the poets.

XVI. These matters being defined, we will next
state of what nature the connection of action?
ought to be, since this is the first and chief point
of tragedy. It has already been demonstrated to

39 By sentiments he does not mean all the thoughts which*
pass within the actor's mind, but only such as are expressed in
iTords. The term •* sentence" would not convey tlie idea at nil,
and sentiment in its jreneial acceptation is too comprehensive;
but for want of a better word, it must be used in this limited sense. •

40 Regarding melody or riusic we have before observed, that
though not absolutely ao eusentinl part of the dnuno, it was al-
ways used as such.

41 The word here translated scenery has a much more coini-
prchensive meanilig. It includes dresses, machinrry, in short
every ibiog'wbich uay be styled stage effect.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 19

us, that tragedy is the imitation of a whole and
perfect action, *' having a proper magnitude ; for
there is a whole, which has not a proper niagni_
tude. « But a whole is that which has a begin-
ning, a middle, and an end. ** The beginning is
that which itself, of necessity, is not after any
other; but after whicli another naturally is, or
follows. The end, on the contrary, is that which
necessarily, or for the most part, follows another
in a natural order ; but after which, /oZ/ojcs nothing
else. The middle is that which follows one thing,
and after which, another follows. It is therefore
necessary, that well connected stories should not
begin and end where chance may direct, but that
they employ the above-mentioned forms. But since
the beautiful, both animal, and every other thing
which is composed of parts, ought to have those
parts, not only properly arranged, but ako to possess

4'2 Thrrf are many actions ■which, thon^h entire, hare not a
coiitiiiii.iiice siifficioutiy lonjc, nora ineparatioii sutficieiitly great
to form the subjects of tra<5^e<ties. Such are they which liaj>peB
in a mcmriif, ^^ithout any previous narninir, and which can
only be iiitiodiiced as episodes.

43 The cause of undertaking' an action and the preparations
for setting- about if, are tlie beginning^. The difficulties which
are to be siirii;;>unted in the performance of that action, consti-
lute the middle; and the catastroj,he or consequences of tbe'
action when performed, compose the tnH.

4-V This passage requires only to be translated a little more
freely to render it quite perspicuous. The beg-inning' is that
which d.>es not necessarily require the preexistence of any thing-
else. The niiddle is tliat which follows the beo-inning- and pre-
cedes the end. And the end is that which follows both, and is
followed by nothing else. Therefore, says Aristotle, great at-
tention is required in making a story begin and end wbcre it
ought.

tPi AKISTOTLE'S POETICS,

a size, not merely accidental : for the beautiful con-.
sists in a "propriety of size and arrangement;
whence neither is that animal beautiful, which is.
too small, because the vision is confounded when
it takes place in an almost imperceptible period of
time ; nor that which is too large, because tlie per-,
ception does not take place at once, but the indi-
viduality and perfection in the view, is lost to the,
spectators ; as if, for instance, there could be an
animal ten thousand stadia long. ** Thus, as in
bodies and animals, it is necessary for them to,
have a proper magnitude, and that readily taken
in by the eye; so also in stories, they ought to
have a proper length, and that easily remembered.
The determining of that length, as far as regards
the disputations, and the senses of tlie audience, be-
longs not to the art. For if it were necessary to
act one hundred tragedies, men would act them by
the hour-glass, ^ as they say was sometimes done
elsewhere. *' But the mark to govern us with re-

45 This is a very excellent illnstration, and points out that
the inemory has the same power in the intellectual world, which
the eye has iu t!ie natural. The story ot' a tragedy ought not
to be too short, because it is then not worth reiuenibcriug, and
is besides obscured by the many episodes which must be intro-
duced to fill up the piece. Neither ought it to be too long, be-
cause the best memory could not tlien retain it.

46 This is a reproof to the Athenians, who were so fond of
skews that they used to have twelve, and even siiLteen play*
acted in a day. These were pieces repeated by four poets for
a prize, and that last was alway.s satirical.

47 The meaning of this is, that the longer the story may be,
the better it is fitted for being the subject of a tragedy, provided-
it be not of such a length that the beginning will be forgotten,
befprft ,we gel to the end. Thi« makes ipore pifisr what wasj>v-r.
fore said of the wa/ifu»^n and ira/tfuyH^tt.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 8t

ference to the nature of the action is, that the
greater is always more appropriate in pre portion to
its size, as long as it is perspicuous. To give a de-
tinition of the matter as simply as possible -.—when
events follow each other in order, in whatever ex-
tent it happens, either according to probability or
necessity, that the transition is made to good from
bad fortune, or from good to bad, that ^ term of
magnitude is sufficient.

XVII. * A story is one, (possesses unity) not as
some think, if it be told of o; .c person: for ma-
ny things, infinite in their nature, happen, from
none of which any single action comes ; and there
are also many actions of one person, from which
no single action springs. Wherefore all appear to
be in an error, as many of the poets as have com-
posed the Heracleides, the Theseides, and such like
poems. For they suppose, that because Hercules

48 Tliis is in support of the antient theory, that a trageil;- ought
to take up as iimch time in acting-, as the ciiciinistanccs which aro
represeulcd did in real life. Not that this was always attended
to, as many occiirrcnci'.'i, w-hich, if rial, would have tilled up ten
or twelve hours, were by the Greek tia<>-cdiaHS compressed into
four. It was considered iioweveras the perfection of tragedy.

49 Aristotle here shews, that the circunistauce of there being
but one hero will not jfi»e unity to a piece. Were the life and
aiiventurcs of any euiincnt ui.iu. for example, to he thrown into
verse, unity could not pussilily be looked for iu such a confused
jumble. But if tlie poet take one particulai action, and make
it the chief subject of his work, he may add as many more ah ho
pleases, by way of episodes, pri>vi(ied he do it with proper care,
and the poem will still piescrve its unity. The reason of this is,
he adds, that actions performed in the most opposite quarters
of the globe, cannot he more ditl'creut than thu actious of the
same persou frequoutly ape.

it ARISTQTJLE § POETICS.

was one, the story must necessarily be singly.
But HoiPQr> as he excels them in other respects,
appears also to have had a proper view in this, ei-
ther by art, or by nature. For in composing the
Odyssey, he has not recorded every circumstance
which befel his hero ; *° that he was wounded in
Parnassus, for instance, and that in the assembling
of the army he pretended to be mad ; *' of which,
although one happened, there was no necessity or
probability that the other would ; but those which
relate to one action, such as we call the Odyssey j
and so also the Il;^d. As then in other imitative
arts, a single imitation is the imitation of one ob'p
ject, so also ought the story of a poem, since it i^t
the imitation of an action, to be the imitation of a
single action, and that an entire one ; and the
parts of the action ought to be so arranged, that any
one part being changed or taken away,. the whole
shall be destroyed or changed. For ** that which

50 riyssps when a boy was wounded below the knee by a
wild-boar on Paniassiis. This Honipr very natiu-ally iiit'iitious
in tlip Odyssey, not as an episode which might either have been
omitted or not, but as a jiart of the piece, because the srar left
by that wound was a means by whicli his hero could be recog-
nized. The pretended madness, having no relation to the story,
is omitted.

51 Aristotle here teaches, that the incidents related in a
poem, should all iitive some connection with one another; and
that those which may have happened to the hero, but which had
no relation at all to the subject of the poem, ought to be left out.
They ought also so to hang together, that the snialle.st'deviari.»a
from the original plan, would change the whole nature of the
poem.

52 This clearly alludes to those insertions whicli have no re-
UttOH to the principal story, Tjius in the midsummer nig ht*«,
dream, weixj we fo strike oiit Quince'* play, of Piraiuu* au«^

AKISTOTLE'S POETICS. $3

when added or riot added does nothing remarkable,
is not a part of the poem.

XVIII. 5^ From what has been said it is mani-
fest, that it is not the office of the poet, to relate
things which have really happened, but rather such
as might, or could have happened, according to
probable or necessary consequence. For the histo-
rian and poet do not merely differ in that they speak
in verse and prose j as the history of Herodotus
might be put into verse, and would be not less a
history in verse than in prose : but in this they
differ— that the one relates things which actually
did happen, and the other, what might have hap-
pened. On this account, poetry is a more philoso-
phic and honourable pursuit than history. ^ For

Thishe, we miglit deprive the pioce of one of its greateit tean-
tieB, but we should not destroy the unity of the story. The re-
verse is the case witli the mock play in Habiiet, for it is hy the
feeling-s excited by its representation, that the king betrays his
guilt, and thus confirms Hamlet in bis resolution of veng-eance.

53 This is self-evident; for were a poet to confine himself to
facts, he could not give to his poem the parts which it requires,
.4s he must necessarily he ig-noraiit of a man's real motives for
the performance of any action, he could not give to his play that
beginning which Aristotle recommends. And so also with the
middle and the end. The same sentence teaches us, that a poet
ought to confine himself within the bounds of at least possibi-
lity. SiipernatumI agency, though not probable, is still possi-
ble, and therefore not to be objected to ; but \fete a poet to te'l
us, that a thing was, and was not at the same time, we should
at once see his absurdity.

64 Aristotle here gives a decided superiority to poetry orer
history, which no man will hesitate to assent to, who gives him-
self a moment's time for reflection. The historian, it is true,
relates the occurrence of certain events, which it is very proper
to he acquainted with, but then be cannot in the nature of thing*

84 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

poetry treats more of general principles ; history,
of particular actions. A general principle is that
which 55 a man of a certain character would say
or do, according either to probability or neces-
sity ; which poetry endeavours to make clear, by
adding names. A particular actidn again. Is some-
thing which Alcibiades did or suffered. In comedy,
indeed, this has been made plain enough ; for'
connecting their story by a chain of probable
events, they have added names to their pieces, and
not like the iambic poets, written poems on the ac-
tions of individuals. In tragedy, however, they
make use of real names ; and the reason is, that
what is possible is credible. Things, therefore,
which never happened, we do not believe to be
possible ; but it is evident that those which did
happen, are possible, otherwise, had they been im-
possible, they would not have happened. It hap-
pens, nevertheless, in some tragedies, that one or
two of the names are known, and the rest ficti-
tious 5 in others, that none are known— as in the
Flower of Agathon. In this play he invents equal-

prftend to rx plain tlio causes of tliosp events. If he attenii»t it
at all, what lie Kay.s must be mere conjecture, v hereas the jioet
has the inlirc niaiiag'cnu'nt of his nerfoitnance in liis own hantis,
from Krst to last. He gives to his hero certain passions anil
qualities, and makes him perform ecrlain actions which are
consequent upon such passions. He thus impresses upon our
minds the consequence of allowing pnssiou to g'ain the ascend,
ency over reason, whilst the historian who records nothing but
bare facts, leaves us to conjecture from what source those facts
have arisen. The poet tiierefore, in a moral point of view, is a
"better instructor than the historian.

&.S Which it occurs to a man of a certain character to say
or do.

ARISTOTLE 1S POETICI|. 25

ly the actions and the names, and pleases not the
less. It ought not therefore to be our chief study
to tie ourselves down to traditionary stories, upon
which tragedies are founded. ^ Indeed it would
be ridiculous to aim at this ; as those which are
known, are known but to a few, and yet give
pleasure to all. ft is evident then from this, that
a poet ought to be esteemed such rather from his
story than from his versification, inasmuch as he is
a poet by imitation, and he imitates actions. And
should it happen that he celebrates real occur-
rences, he is not the less a poet ; for of real occur-
rences, there is nothing to prevent some being of
such a nature, as probably might, and possibly
could have happened, in which point of view he ig
the author of them. *" But of simple stories and
actions, the episodic are the worst. I call that an
episodic story, in which it is neither probable nor
necessary, that the episodes introduced should fol-
low another. Such are composed by bad poets, on
their own account, and by good ones, on ac-
count of the players. ** Because acting for prizes,
and spinning out the story beyond what it wiU

56 How small a proportion of a Britisb aadienc«>, for example,
know the story upon which the Merchant of Venice is founded.

57 Episodic stories are such as either from their own bar-
renness or. the poverty of the author's (j-eniiis, are interspersed
with little anecdotes and adventures ^vhicJJ have no reference
to the main plot, and such he justly reprobates.

f>8 Poems were often repeated for prizes, and if the snlvi*
jeet of one should be barren of incidents, the poet was oblig•«rf^
to introduce epikodcs for the purpose of giving it a proper'
length.

D

26 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

bear, they are frequently obliged to interrupt the
connectkm.

XIX. * But since tragedy U the imitation, not
only of a perfect action, but of such as excites pity
and fear, of which description actions particularly
are, when they are produced by one another rather
contrary to expectation, for an occurrence of this
kind has more of the wonderful in it, than if it
were to happen accidentally, or fortuitously : and -
fiince of accidental circumstances, those seem most
wonderful, which appear to have happened by de-
sign ; as for example, the statue of Mitys at Ar-
gos killed the person who was the cause of Mi-
tys's death, by falling upon him when he was look-
ing at it ; for such things seem as if they iiad not
taken place by mere chance. Therefore it neces-
sarily/ofZouJs, that stories which possess these qua-
lities are best adapted for tragedy.

XX. But of stories, some are simple, others
complex. For the actions also of which they are

f)9 What is meant by an entire and perfect action, has already
been explained. It is a maxim of Aristotle's, that the feelinq-s
to be exeited by tragedy, are principally fear and pity, and
these, he very justly observes, are most powerfully operated
upon, when the spectator is taken, as it were, by surprise. But
it is 9ot«nough t\iat the circumstance which excites those fceU
ings be unexpected. It ought also to have reference* to some-
thing done before. Thus bad Mitys's murderer been killed by
a fall from his horse, or an accidental blow from a stone, his
4ieatb would have been attributed to blind chance alone, but as
the statue of the very man whom he had murdered fell upon
him, and crushed him to death, something like an appearanc*
jof retfibutive justice gives interest to tjie accident.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. Jr

the imitation chance originally to have been of
these kinds. ** I call that a simple story, in which,
being connected and single, as has been defined,
the change takes place without peripatie or re-
cognition ; and complex, in which the change
takes place, with recognition, or peripatie, or both.
But these should be produced by the very connec-
tion of the story, in such a manner as that they
must arise, either necessarily, or according to pro-
bability, from actions previously performed. ^ For
tliere is a great difference between a thing happen-
ing in consequence of something else, and after
something else.

XXI. The peripatie, as has been said, is the
change of actions to their very opposites ; and this,
as we have stated, either according to probable,
or necessary consequence. Thus in the story of CE-
dipus, the person who came to make Qidipus hap-
py, and to relieve his mind from all fears respect-
ing his mother, having disclosed who he was, did
the very reverse : and in the Lynceas, when he is
led out as about to die, and Danaus follows, as

60 A simple story or action is that which is accompanifd
with no chang'<' of place or circumstances, or remembrance
of fori-otteii objects. A complex is accompanied with all.

61 Fifty thin^^s may happen one after another, and yet have
no more connection than so ntany arithmetical fiw-nres. But
■when one thinw is produced inconsequence of another, it proves,
that the cause mnst have existed, or else the effect never could
have come into being'. Of this nature ong-ht all the peripaties
and recognitions in a trao-edy to be, that is, there ought not to
he any which is not the consequence of somethiuj gone be-
fore.

«8 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

about to kill him, it happens, from what has gone
before, that the last dies, and the first is saved.

XXII. Recognition, again, as the name denotes,
is a change from ignorance to knowledge, *' tend-
ing to extablish either friendship or animosity, be-
tween the persons destined to happiness or misery.
*•* 'Ihe best kind of recognition is, when the peri-
])atie tnkes place at the same time, as is the case in
the CEdipus. ^ But besides this, there are other
kinds of recognition ; for it happens that it is
sometimes directed towards inanimate, and acci^
dental objects ; and one may discover whether a
person did or did not perform some particular a<>-
Hon ; but that which peculiarly belongs to the sto-
ry, and constitutes the chief part of the action, is
•what was Jirst mentioned : for such recognition
and peripatie will excite either pi*y or fearj of

6S For two persoBs to remember each other, and still to con-
tinue in the same sitiiatron is not sufficient. The remembrance
most excite feelings of cither love or hatred, or else the re-
cognition will not have fulfilled its oSSce.

63 Thatrecog-nition is best which produces an instant change
in the circumstunees of the person who remembers, which hur-
ries him at once from happiness to misery, or froni'misery to
happiness, and thus bring's on the catastro]>he. No recognition,
properly speaking, can be made without efi'eoting some change;
but Aristotle speaks here only of the grand circumstuiice upon
which the whole story hangs.

64 We may find a ring or a necklace for example, or see «
horse, and remember that it belongs to some particular person.
We may see that something has been dune, and remembering
the manner in which that person does such things, we conclude
that it was be who did it. Or again, we may have seen a tree
planted, or a pillar erected by this person, and returning to the
tame place, mc remember that it was done by him.

ARISTOTLE'S POfiTICS. 29

which actions, tragedy is shewn to be the imita-
tion. Besides, good or bad fortune will be the
consequence of such recognitions. But since re-
Cognition is the excitement of remembrance be-
tween certain persons, ^^ some recognitions will
only be, of one party towards the other, when only
one is made known ; at other times both must re-
cognise ; as Iphigenia is recognised by Orestes,
from the circumstance of dispatching a letter, but it
requires other means to awaken a recognition of him
iti Die mind o/" Iphigenia.

XXIII. Two parts of the story therefore relate
to this ; (the subject) namely, peripatie and recog-
nition : there is also a third, viz. passion. Of these,
peripatie and recognition have been explained ;
but passion * is an action productive of death or
pain ; *' such as murders openly perpetrated, tor-
tures, wounds, and such like.

63 It sometimes happens that a story will require, tliat only
one of two persons should recognise tlie other. At other times
both must be recoufuised. When this is the case, more means
must be employed than one. A bodily mark may be the cause
of one beinnr remembered, and some other contingent circuiiu
stanee of the other. Thus Iphijjenia made herself known to
Orestes, by repeating the very words of a letter which she had
|)rfeviously sent him, and he proved himself to be the right per-
son by a mark on his body.

66 To call passion an action seems perfectly incongruous,
bat the fact is, we have not a single word in the language which
will convey the meaning of a-adi; in the present case. Its sig-
nification must be, the colouring whic)) passion gives to an ac-
tion.

67 Aristotle does not here mean to recommend the commission
of murder upon the stage — a thing very rarely done among the
ancients. He only means that the audience must be certainly
informed that the person is dead.

30 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

XXIV. We have mentioned above those parts
of a tragedy which must be used as forms j ® but
with respect to quantity, and the distinct parts into
which it is divided, these are they— prologue, epi-
sode, exode, and chorus ; and of this last there are
two parts — one parodus, and the other stasimon.
These are the same in all tragedies ; but their pe-
culiarities arise from the scenery and the commi.
The prologue is that whole part of tlie tragedy,
which precedes the parodus of the chorus. The
episode, tliat whole part of the tragedy which is
"between the entire songs of the chorus. And the
exode, that whole part of the tragedy, after which
there is no song of the chorus. Of the divisions of
the chorus again, the parodus is the first speech of
the whole chorus, and the stasimon is the song of
the chorus, tchich is without anapaeste or trochaeus.
The oommus again, is the combined lamentation

68 Most of these parts are so will explained in the text, that
it is almost needless to notice them here. We will endeavour
however to make some of thera even more plain. The pro-
logfiie, it must he rcmemhered, was not as it is now, a short ad-
dress spoken to the audience before the commencement of the
pjay, but an actual part of tho piece. When the chorus spoke^
one person did it for the whole, but when tliey sang-, all joined.
The parodus was the first of these song's. The stasimon we
must explain at g'reater leng'th. The chorus did not begin ta
take a share in the action till after the parodus was sung. In-
it thej had made use of anapreste and trochxus, being a quick
measure, indicative of a careless mind, and suited to rapid mo-
tion. When, however, they began to take an interest in the
piece, and to form, in fact, part of the performance, they drop-
ped this lively measure, and sung the rest of their songs in one
more grave and melancholy. These were called the stasim*a.
The commi are the united lamentations of the chorus and other
actors of the performance of any terrible action, and were ae-
eorapanied with beating the breast, whence the name is derived.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 31

of the chorus and the players. The parts of a tra-
gedy therefore, which the poet must use, have been
formerly stated ; but with respect to quantity and
the distinct parts into which it is divided, they are
these.

XXV. Next in order, after what we have just
said, we will mention what things, those who
compose tragedies ought to aim at, and what they
ought to avoid, and how the object of tragedy will
be attained. * Since then the composition of the
best tragedy must be, not simple, but complex,
and that imitative of things which are terrible and
pitiable, (for this is the peculiarity of that kind of
imitation) it is evident, in the first place, that nei-
ther very just men should be represented as falling
from good fortune into bad, (as this is neither
terrible nor pitiable, but detestable) nor the wicked
from bad fortune into good, (for this is by no
means tragical 3 as it possesses none of all the re-
quisites which it ought, it excites not a love of
mankind, neither is it pitiable nor terrible) : nor
in the second place should a very bad man be re-
presented as falling from good fortune into bad,
(for although this kind of composition ooay have

69 These maxims arc in support of Aristotle's theory, that
tragedy ought to purify our passiuns, by means of pity and fear.
The misfortunes of a conspicuoiisFy good man, however, would
excite in us neither the one nor the other. They would rather
rouse our indignation. And the successes of a bad man, would
have quite the contrary efi'ectfrom purifying our passions. The
fall of a very had man again, would give us pleasure, without
exciting eitber pity or fear.

82 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

something philanthropic in it, it excites neither
pity nor fear ; because the one is felt when an un-
deserving person suffers, the other, when a person
in our own situation ; pity for the undeserving',,
and fear for the equal ; so that such an event
would produce neither pity nor fear). That man
therefore remains, who is between the two. He
will be a man from among those in high estima-
tion and happiness, who is conspicuous neither for
his virtue and justice, nor falls into misfortune from
any wickedness or crime, but only from some mis-
take j such as Qidipus and Orestes, and the illus-
trious men of »uch famnilies.

XXVI. It i§ necessary, however, as some say,
that a well arranged story should be simple rather
than complex, and that the change should be, not
from bad fortune to good, biit on the ccmtrary^
from good to bad — by no crime, but by a great
mistake of such a man as has been mentioned, or
of a better rather than a worse. What doily hap-
pens is a proof of this ; for formerly, indeed, poet?
recited any stories they might meet with, but now
the best tragedies are composed upon a fewfamilies;
as upon the story of Alcmaeon, Orestes, CEdipus,
Meliogarus, Thyestes, Telephon, and some others,
whose fate it was to do and suffer terrible things.
''" The finest tragedy, therefore, according to the

70 That is, of all traofedies composed according^ to rule, that
wtiich is founded upon a story of this kind is the best. He does
not gay of all trag'edies, because there were some which were
meant to appear as if no attention whatever had been paid to

ARISTOTf-E'S POETICS. 53

rules of art, '' is a composition of this nature.
Those -nxen accordingly err, who find fault with
Euripides because he does this in his tragedies,
and because many of them, and unhappily. For
this, as has been said, is correct. "And a very great
proof is, that such j)icces, if they be properly ar-
ranged, appear, with the assistance of scenery and
acting, most tragical ; and that Euripides, though
he but indifferently disposes the other parts, seems
notwithstanding the most tragic of the poets. Se-
cond in excellence, by some called first, is that com-
position which has a double connection, and which,
ends, like the Odyssey, in opposite ways with re-
spect to the good and to the bad : ^^ it appears to
be first only on account of the weakness of the
spectators. For such poets, in their works, attend
to the pleasure of the spectators. But this is not
the pleasure to be derived from tragedy, but rather
the peculiar one of comedy ; because there, men,
who in the story may have been the greatest ene-
mies, like Orestes and ^gistheus, becoming friends
at the end, go out, and neither dies by the hand of
the other.

XXVII. The terrible and pitiable may arise on
the one hand from what is seen ; and on the other>

rule in their composition, but which from the interest of their
stury, their beauty of expression, or the excellence of their kcc^
nery were extrcuiely pleasing.

71 Es rtiurtif rnt furxriuf irif, is of this composition.

72 An ending' altogether unhappy is too didcIi for the fcclinga
of some audiences, and this he c»(is their weakness.

Si ARISTOTLE'S POETICU.

from the connection of the things recorded, which
latter is preferable, and is the mode pursued by tlve
better poet. The story therefore ought to be so
arranged, that the person who listens to a relation
of the circumstances, even without the assistance
of shew, should shudder and tremble at the iC vents ;
just as one would do, who should hear the story of
CEdipus. But to effect this by means of what is
seen, belongs less to the art, aad requires external
aid. '' Those again, who produce by the assistance
of stage effect, not the terrible, but the monstrous
only, have nothing in common with tragedy : for
we must not expect from tragedy every species of
pleasure, but only what is peculiar to it. Since
then the poet ought to produce pleasure from pity
and fear by imitating, it is evident that it should
be done in the actions represented. We will now
consider, which of those events that really happen,
appear terrible, and which pitiable. But it is re-
quisite that such be the actions of friends towards
one another, or of enemies, or of indifferent per-
sons. If, however, an enemy kill an enemy, he re-
presents nothing pitiable, either when perpetrating
or meditating the action, '* except what arises from
our own feelings ; so also with indifferent persons.

73 Thi8 alludes to the introduction of such characters as
Force and Violence in Pronirtheiis chained, of Oceanus niojintid
on a griffin's baci<, and of lo in tlic shape of a cow, all of which
are reprobated us being- monstrous without bpiiig terrible.

74 In either of these cases we feel lillle else than that aver-
sion to murder whi'^h is natural to man. But if a friend kill a
frtend, or a relation kill a relation, without knowing- the person
whom he mardirrs, then our pity is excited.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

>i

But when actions which excite passion, are com-
mitted among friends ; if, for example, a son kill,
or meditate upon killing, a father - a brother, a bro-
ther— a mother, her son — or a son, his mother — '* or
do any other deed of this nature — these are the in-
cidents to be sought for. "* It is not right to alter
traditionary stories ; I mean such as Clytemnestra
dying by the hand of Orestes, and Eriphyle by that
of Alcmaeon ; but the poet ought himself to in_
vent, as well as use with propriety, those which
are handed down. What we call u&ing with pro-
priety, we will more fully explain. One way is,
as the ancients did, to represent the agents as per-
forming some action, knowing and being aware
of what they are about ; in which manner Euripides'
made Medea destroy her children. Another, that
they do some terrible deed, but do it in ignorance,
and afterwards discover the friendship which sub-
sists between them ; like the CEdipus of Sophocles.
" This, to be sure, is out of the drama ; but it may
be in the tragedy ; like the Alcmaeon of Astydamas,

75 There are other things besides death, which under those
circumstances would e-xcite pity, such as cruel treatment, in-
sults, confinement, &«.

76 This is not meant to contradict what has been said before,
namely, that there is no necessity for a poet's confining himself
to mere mutter of fact. On the contrary we are expressly told
that he ought to exert his own invention ; in other words, he
may assign what motives he pleases for the performance of the
grand catastrophe, aod relate whatever previous adventures he
thinks fit, provided he does not alter the great occurrence upon
which the whole story turns.

77 CEdipus has killed his father and married his mother be-
fore the play begins, and this is what is meant by t|M r»> }(Kf*»'
Tt, out of tke drama.

S^ ' ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

or the Telegon in Ulysses wounded. A third way
is, that the person who is about to do some inex-
piable deed through ignorance, makes a discovery
before he has perpetrated it. And besides these,
therfe is no other ; for an action must or must not
be done, and the agents must or must not know
what they are about. "* Of these, that which repre-
sents a person who knows what he is doing, as medi-
tating and not performing an action, is the worst 5
for it has something detestable in it, though not
tragical, because it is without passion. Where-
fore no one does it, except rarely j as the conduct
of Haemon in the Antigone towards Creon. Next
worst is that he complete the action. "^ But it is
better, that the person should perform an action in
ignorance, and make the discovery after he has
done it, for it raises no feeling of detestation, and
the recognition is matter of astonishment. The
last method however is the best ; I mean as in the
Cresphontes, ^ when Merope is about to kill her

78 The hero of n tragrdy ong;lit not to meditate the death of
somebody else, and be prevented from fuliillinw his intention,
unless by his own death. Were the play to leave both parties,
at its conelusion, in jthe same situation they were in, trhen it
began, neither pity nor fear conld possibly be excited ; but if
the death of the hero be the means of saving the other, the story
will of course change its character, and instead of simple, be-
come complex. The heginnintj of this senfen.^e relates to what
is said in the one inimediatelyjbcfore, namely, that an action must
or must not be done, and that the agents must or must not know
what they are about.

79 That one man, for instance, should kill another, and after,
wards discover that the person whom he slew was his own fa-
ther.

80 By this it will be seen, that a tragedy among the ane"en(s
did not absolutely require that any blood should be spilt. WheH

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 37

«oB, she does not kill him, but recognises him :
«nd in the Iphigenia a sister does the same with
her brother : and in the Helle, a son being about
to deliver up his mother, remembers her. On this
account, tragedies, as has been said, are composed
upon but few families. *' Because poets, when
seeking for subjects, discovered, not by adherence
to artificial rules, but by chance, the propriety of
suiting such incidents to the stories. They are ac-
cordingly obliged to have recourse to those fami-
lies, among whom such misfortunes have occurred.
Enough has been said on the composition of ac-
tions, and of the qualities which the stories ought
to possess.

XXVIII. Respecting manners, again, there are
four things which the poet ought to attend to.
*^ One and the first is, that they be useful. A per-'
son will possess manner, if, as has been said, his
speech or action make manifest some predetermi-

«ne near relation or friend brought anothet to the point of death,
the passions of fear and pity were sufficiently excited, and the
Kpcctators were rather pleased to see the actaal perpetration of
the deed prevented.

81 The meanings of these two sentences seems to be, that as
the antient poets had accidentally fixed upon a few families
from which to take subjects for their tragedies, and the mo-
derns had chosen to con6ne themselves to the same names, for
what reason does not appear, they must not attribute to their
heroes actions quite difierent from what those g-reat mastei's had
, made them perform.

82 Whether ihe character introduced be naturally good er
had, his manner must he such as will shew his natnrc. If »
go»A man be represented, hit manner mutt make his i^ednera
apparent, and so also with a bad.

B

S8 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

nation ; it will be good if it shew a good predeter-
mination, and bad if it shew a bad one. And it is
so in every situation ; for a woman is useful and
so is a slave ; though the first of them is perhaps
more frequently bad than good, the second always
bad. Secondly, that they be becoming j thus there
is a manner which suits a man, but is not becom-
ing for a woman, namely, to be bold and terrible.
^'Thirdly, that they be like; for this is different
from making manner useful or becoming, as has
been stated. ** And fourthly, that they be equal ;
for if the person who supplies the imitation, and
ift supposed to possess a manner of a certain kind,
be unequal, the manner given him in representation
ought to be equally Incongruous. Menelaus in the
Orestes, for instance, is an example of unnecessary
badness of manner ; the lamentation of Ulysses in
the Scylla, and the speech of Melanippes, of the
indecorous and unbecoming ; and Iphigenia in
the Aulis, of the unequal } for when supplicating,
she does not resemble what she afterwards becomet.

8S The difference betwepn likeness and usefulness \n manner is
made most apparent by nii example. If the cJiaractcr to be re-
presented, be a man falsely considered by the world as a miser,
and if his manner be meant to be like, he must be made to
speak and aot according; to the notion g-enerally entertained of
him. If on tlie other hand the author wish it to be useful or
becoming', he must speak and act as his own disposition would
dictate.

84 If the manner of the person represented, be in reality
variable and uncertain, we must take care to make it equally
80 in the re[)rcsentation, but as we beg'un so must we end.
Thus if a man be represented as very brave at the commence-
ment of a piece, it will not do to make a coward of him towards
the conclusion.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 39

iJut in manners, as well as in the connectio.: of
«vents, it is requisite to aim at either the neces-
sary or the proliable, ®^ so that it be necessaiy or
probal)le, that such and such a man say or do such
and such things, and necessary or probable, that
this action be performed after that. ^ It is evi-
dent, therefore, that the unravelling of the plot,
ought to proceed from the story itself, and not as
in the Medea, and llias, where the sailing from
Troy is represented, by machinery ; but machinery
may be employed in matters out of the drama, ei-
ther such as happened before it, which a man can-
not know, or such as are to f()llow, which require
relati«on and description ; for we attribute to the
Gods, the power of seeing all things. *^ Neither in
the actions represented, ought any to be without a
reason ; if this cannot be, let it be out of the trage-
dy ; as in the Oedipus of Sophocles. But since

85 Tlie nirnning- of this very conAised sentence is, that it is
fts necessary for a yeiing' man to speak and act like a yonn^
Bian, and au old aiau like an old man, a« fur the efi'ect to follow
the cause.

86 This all iides to the practice of briiiging- upon the stag'C ships,
enchanted cars, iic. in which the characters were carried of?',
and so the piece concluded. It also has reference to supcraa-
turnl ai>-ency, wliich he says should not be employed, unless the
poet wish to inform the audience of events which havetakea
place before the commencement of his tragedy, and have some
relation to it, or of those which are to follow, for the Gods are
allowed to have the power of seein»all things. X''^ llias here
spoken of, is not the epic poem, but a trag^edy fouaded on the
tame stojy.

B7 Nothing^ done upon the staj^e should appear to be with-
out a Cfltise. If it be absoliitrly necessary that something
tn'iNt have been done, for which there is no apparent ca<i^(i,
let it have been done before >tkc period of the play's commence-
niept.

40 ARISTOTLE'S POETIC*.

tragedy is an imitation of better men, we ought
to copy good portrait painters ; for they, preserving
tlie peculiarity of shape, and making the portraiit
like, paint them handsomer than the originals.
Thus ought a poet, when imitating' irascible and
slothful men, or those who have such peculiarities
in their manners, to produce an example ^ of mo-
deration, rather than of extreme roughness, as A-
g.ithon and Homer do Achilles. These tlien he
ought to attend to, and besides them, ^ to the gra-
tification of those senses, which do not necessarily
attend the poetic art, for in what relates to them',
it is often possible to err. But sufficient notice-
has b^eo taken o£ these in the published tracts.

XXIX. What recognition is, has already been
stated. But there are several sorts of recognition :
9* the first is that which belongs least to the art>
and which most men from poverty of genius make
Mse of, viz. recognition by marks. Of these, some
are natural ; as the spear which the earth-born
Thebans bear, or stars, such as Carcinus uses in
hU Thyestes y ottiers, acquired j some of which are

88 That is, the finest parts of his charactor ought to be
brougfht forward, and the bad paiU kejjt out of siglit.

89 It is quite impossible to translate this literally and t*-
ifiake common Eng-lish of it. the meaning is, that some at-
tention ought to be paid to the scenery and music as well as t*
the incidents, related in the play.

90 The several ways of being recognised by signs are, firsty
by natural mark, such as we ma)' have been bori^ with ; secondly ,^
by the scar of old hurts ; and thirdly, by weariilg a ring or nuy
QtKcr thing which may hare been gives as s tokeo.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 41

upon the botly, as scars, and others unconnectisd
with it, as necklaces, and as the cradle in the Ty-
rone, by which a discovery is made. And we nniiy
employ them to g;reater and less advantage : thus
Ulysses was recognised on account of his scar, in
one way by his nurse, and in another by the swine-
herds. But these, and all of this nature, which
are used to gain belief, have less to do with art ;
®' those again, which proceed from peripatie, like
that in the Niptri, are better. *^ The second kind
of recognition is that invented by the poet, and
therefore without art : it is thus in the Iphigenia,
that Orestes makes himself known to his sister,
she having^rtfi made herself known to him, (she
by means of a letter, he by marks ; these latter
therefore the poet, and not the story, calls what
he pleases ; wherefore it approaches the error we
have mentioned, because the poet might have pro-
duced any others) ; and of this kind is the voice of

91 \^'hen Ulysses made himself known to the swineherds, he
himself shewed them the scar, tlmt they might be conviiMJeil lie
was not deceiving tliera. This is what Aristotle calls " using a
mark for the purjMise of gaining helief." The same scar made
him be recognised by !iis nurse, but in quite a difl'erent manner.
She saw it accidentally when he was wasiiing his feet (ia the
Niptri). This recognition therefore proceeded froHi peripatie,
or change of situation, and is in Ariatotle's opiiiion preferable
to the other.

92 The meaning of this apparent parodox is, that according
to the rules for the composition of tragedy, recognition should
arise from the incidents in the piece, and not be produced by
the will or fancy of the poet. The manner in which Iphigenia
makes herself known to Orestes is an instance of the first, and
the manner in which he convinces her of his being htr brother,
of the second, because the poet might have just as well em-
ployed any other mark, as make bim tell her of the spear which
ia> in Iter aparlmeut.

«C ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

the shuttle, in the Tereus of Sophocles. The third
kiml, is that brought about by memory, when a re-
membrance is awakened by seeing some object j-
as in the Cyprians of Dicseogenes, where a person
looked' at a picture and wept ; and in the story of
Alcinous ; for Ulysses heard the sound of a harp,,
and remembering past events, wept ; and was thus
discovered. The fourth kind, is that effected by
reasoning ; ^ as in the Choephori, (that somebodjr
like had come ; that nobody was liRe but Orestes ;•
he therefore had come); and in the Iphigenia of
Polydes the sophist, C** for it is probable that Ores-
tes woulil argue, that as hVs sister was sacrificed,
ft followed that he too should be sacrificed) ; and'
in the Tydeus of Theodectes, (that coming as if to
find his son, he himself dies) ; and also in the Phi-
nides, for when they saw the place, they perceived"
their fate, that it was destined they should die-
there, because there they had been exposed;
There is besides a species of recognition produced
by the false calculation of the audience ; as in the
case of the false ntessenger in the Ulysses. For he-
said he should know a bow which he had not seen,
and the audience expecting that he would make
himself knovk'n by means of that bow, make a false-
calculation. But the best recognition of all, is-
that produced by the events, as astonishment »»

93 In the Choephori of vEschylns, Electra having jfone to.
the tomb of Agamemnon to pour out a libatioa, discover* foot-
steps round it very much resembling her own, and thence con-
el ades that Orestes is come.

91 This isafterwarda cj[plained,.bat the other playa are loatw

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 4»

this case is excited by probabilities, like that in the
CEdipus of Sophocles, and in the Iphigenia, be-
cause it i» probable that she sbmild wish to give
the letter in charge. For this is the only kind of
recognition without adventitious signs and neck-
laces ; and next to this is the recognition which- i»
effected by reasonings.

XXX. The poet onght to connect his story, and
polish his language, by ^ placing things as much
as possible before his eyes ; for thus- by examining
them with great minuten^s, and being present,
as it were, at their representation, he will discover
what is proper, and the reverse will least readily
elude his observation. The blame bestowed upon
Corcinus is a proof of this ; for Amphiaraus had
ascended from the temple, a eircunutance which he
forgot the audience does not see The piece there-
fere was damned- at the representation, because the
audience was offended at this lie ought also, as
much as possible, to make the player assitit hia speech
with gestures. ^ For those men are naturally most
persuasive, who are affected by any passions ; thus
he wha is hinvself agitated,, most truly agitate*

•>5 The poet wig'ht to faricy hTmsehf a wifness.or tho perj-
formaoce of bis own tragedy. At the occurrence of every ad-
Tenture, tlierefore, he oug'ht to ask himself why it was intro-
duced, and if he caunut give a satisAietory answer to thai
^Bestion, he aiay rest assured it has no business there.

9& It h a Hiaig' seK* evident, rfiat the man who wTshes t»
inflame an audience to anger, wil^ do it more readily by ap<-
pearing to be angry himself, than if he were to tell an irritating;'
•toiy in a caJm and indiifereai tone of voice-

M ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

others, and he who is angry himself, excites anger
in others ; for which reason, poetry i)elongs rather
to a man of quick genius than to a n;a(lman j be-
cause the one has a ready invention, and tlie other
is distracted. ^ He should likewise give a general
arrangement, both to traditionary stories, and any
he may himself have invented ; and then compose
and introduce episodes. For thus, I say, he will
have a general view : let us take for example
the story of Iphigenia. A certain maid being de-
voted for sacrifice, and having disa|)peare<l in a
manner unknown to those wiio were about to sa-
critice her, arrived in another country, where it
was the custom to sacrifice strangers to the God-
dess, and obtained that priesthood. Some time
after it hapjjens that the brother of the priestess
comes there : why did he '? because a God ordered
bim to go there, for some reason out of the gene-
ral outline ; but the purpose for which he came is
out of the story, and being come, he is seized, and
Dvhen about to be sacrificed, a recognition takes
place; either as Euripides would do it; or as Po-
lyidus has done, he {the brother) naturally saying
that not only his sister, but he also must be of-
fered up ; hence his preservation. After this, hav-
ing given names to his penons, he may insert epi-
sodes. But he must see that those episodes be
suitable; ^^ like the madness, in the case of Ores-

97 Before lie thinks of iDterting episode* he ought properly
to arrange the heads of his story.

98 The niadoess of Orestes is the canse of his citptnre, aad
the person who brings him before Iphigeoia rery naturally re«

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 45

tes, by which he was taken, and his preservation
by the purification. In phiys the episodes are
short) but an epic poem is lengthened by theiD'
For the real story of the Odyssey is trifling. A
certain man having been absent from home for
many years, is watched by Neptune, and is alone j
in the mean time his family is so situated, that his
wealth is seized by suitors, and his son's life con-
spired against ; this man is -wrecked, and arrives
at home, where having discovered himself to some
of his people, he makes an attack upon the $uitor»,
is saved himself, and destroys his enemies. This
is the particular story; the others are only episodes.

XXXI. The component parts of every tragedy,
are the plot and the unravelling} ^ those incidents
uhich occur out of the play, and often some of
those in it, form the plot j the rest is the unravel-
ling. The plot, 1 say, continues from the begia-
iiing till that part where the change to good for-
tune commences, and which is last ; the unravel-

lites what he had said and done, to account for his having seized
Liui. 'i his is the iiist episitde. 'i be second is equally proper.
Iphigeuia having discovered who Orestes is, pietends to king
I'hoas, that the stranger being polluted wrtb bluod, will not be
a proper saeritice till both he uad the statue are washed in the
sea. Peiuiission is given for the performance of thiv ceremony,
bjr which means both she and iier brother escape, carrying witk
them the statue of the goddess.

9V The circumstances which are^iupposed to have taken place
before the time of the play's commencement, and to liave been
the causes of the catitstrophe on which it hinges, as well as the
obstacles in the play which retard that catastrophe, maka up th«
plot. The UHiaretiing is the consequence of its accomplish...
meut.^

«6 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

ling, from the commencement of the change till
the end of the piece. Thus in the Lynceus of Thco-
(lectus, the incidents and the capture of the boy
form the plot; the unravelling is from the com-
plaining of death to the end.

XXXII. ' There are four kinds of tragedy j and
just so many parts have been mentioned : first
complex, the whole of which is made up of peri-
patie and recognition ; second, patiietic, such as
the Ajaxes and the Ixions ; third, moral, like the
Phthiotides and the Peleus ; and fourth, such
fis the Phorcides, the Prometheus, and those wnwic
sct.ie is in Hades. The chief endeavour ought to
be, to be master of .ill, but if not, of the principal,
and the greatest number of them, particularly now
that men speak ill of poets. For poets having al-
ready excelled in each of the kinds, they now ex-
pect that one should surpass all in their peculiar

1 Aristotle has said that the four parts of trag^edy which re-
late to its quality are, the subject, the manner, the seuOmcnt,
and the discourse. To these he afterwards adds the reengni-
tion, the peripatie, and the passion. Of these the subject, the
sentiment, and the discourse, are common to all; but pcii|)iUie,
recognition, passion, and manner, are those which distinguish
the four kiuds mentioned. Peripatie and recognition conijiose
the complex, nfitlier of them having- any thing- to do with the
sinijilc, which is made up of a simple plot, and a siuiple via-
ravelling without any chang:e in lyoowledg-e, place, or circiiuu
stauces. Where niiirdri-s, wounds, and such like ciicunistanrcs
«re introduced, the tragedy, whether 8iin|)le or complex, is pa-
thetic, because it is with these that passion iscuucoiued. And
where there is nothinjr of tlie kind — where the play ends wiih-
oat Tiolence, by makin!>> a g<Kid man happy, or when- tlic Jiceiie
is Ijiid iu hades, where no such things cau hajtpea, tbeu ii thf)
tmged/ purely uiortU.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 47

excellencies. ' But it is perhaps unjust to call one
tragedy the same or different from another, accord-
ing to the story j this ought rather to be said of those
whose plot and unravelling are the same j because
many men who invent the plot well, unravel it
badly 3 whereas both should always he such as will
be received with applause. The poet must bear in
mind what has been often said, not to make tra-
gedy an epic composition ; I call that epic, which
includes many stories, as if one were to make the
whole Iliad the subject of a tragedy ; there indeed,
(in the Iliad, as an epic poem) on account of its
length, all the parts receive a proper extension ;
^ but in dramas the event is quite contrary to ex-
pectation. A proof of this is, that as many as have
made the whole destruction of Troy their subject,
and not particular parts of it, as Euripides did the
Niobe, * and as ^schylus did, either fail entirely,

2 Thoii|s;h the same story may be tlie subject of two poems, it
may be diossed u|) with incidents so different, and handled in
so diti'erent a niaunei, that the two poems cannot be called the
same. On the other hand, the subject may be quite different, and
yet the incidents, the imagery, the versification, &c. so exactly si-
milar, that the one poem may with much more propriety b«
called a copy of the other.

3 If a person were to suppose, that he could, in a tragedy,
g'ive the proper length to a number of episodes, he would find
himself deceived. No episodes should be introduced, except
such as are in strict connection with the principal story, and
even too many of them are bad, because they destroy the unity.

4 The Greek is xai /m ie*i( Aifjf^eXtt, which does not mean
that itischylns committed that fault which he is just blaming,
but is merely a repetition of the commencement of the sentence,
a-sif he would say that "they erred who did not take a part of
it as. Euripides did, and who did not take a part as JEsehj\at
did."

48 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

or carry it through badly ; since by this alone Aga-
thon was unsuccessful ; ^ whilst in peripaties and
simple actions, they aim at what they desire with
wonderful success. For it is somethmg tragical and
philanthropic. And this is the case, when a wise
man, who is wicked, is orer-reached, like Sisyphus,
and a brave but unjust one, defeated. It is also
agreeable to probability, as Agathon says ; for it it
probable that many things will happen contrary
to probability. It is necessary likewise to consider
* the chorus as one of the actors, as being a part
of the whole, and as carrying on the performance
along with the others, not after the manner of Eu-
ripides, but after that of Sophocles, Among the
other tragic writers, indeed, the parts assigned to H
belong no more to the particular story than to any
other tragedy ; wherefore it sings any kind of
songs, of which practice Agathon was the author j
and where is the difference between singing songs
which will suit any play, and inserting a speech or
a whole episode,, taken from one piece into an-
other.

5 Although Agathon and the others fail in the subject, their
peripaties and rccog-nitions are wondei-fuUy successful, because
what they aim at there, is something pleasing, simple, and tra-
gical.

6 The chorns were introduced as mere spectators of what
the principal characters were doing, but then sajs Aristotle,
they ought to be interested spectators. Their songs should Hot
ne of an indifferent nature, but should relate aolely to what
is goingon, and in such a manner as will help to elucidate the
piece. In this respect Sophocles was superior to Euripides,
because the songs which the choruses of the latter »ung, had o(-
tea Ro reference to the ttory of the play.

ARISTOTLE'S POETlf ». 49

XXXIII. Of the other parts we have now
spoken ; and it remains to treat of discourse and
sentiment. What relates to sentiment, however,
will be found in the treatise upon rhetoric, as it
more peculiarly belongs to that art. For those
matters which have reference to sentiment, ought
to be produced by reasoning ; and their parts are,
demonstration, refutation, and the excitement of
the passions ; as fear, pity, anger, and such like ;
and making a thing great or small. It is evident
then, that when in the performance, it is necessary
to represent tilings as pitiable, terrible, great, or
probable, the poet must employ the same forms
as the orator ; ' but so far they diflFer, ® that in
the one case the occurrences must appear of this
kind, without his proving them to be such, and in
the other, that they be rendered such by the speaker
in his harangue, and become so from the colouring
which the speech has given them. For what would
be the use of an orator, if things were to appear
in a proper light, without his speech ?

XXXIV. With respect to those matters which
have reference to discourse, one species of enquiry

7 This sentence will not bear a more literal translation ; but
as all the words which are not in the orig^iaal are in Italics, the
reader will find no difficulty in reconciling' the English with
the Greek.

8 The subject of a poem ought to be of such a nature, that
the bare relation of facts will excite those passions. The orator,
•a the other Iiaml, is often oblig-ed to make those things appear
terrible which are in reality pitiable, and those pitiable which
are in reality terrible.

W

50 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

i« into the forms of pronunciation, 'with which,
the player, and the person who considers this art
of primary importance, ought to be acquainted }
as what is command, entreaty, narration, threat,
interrogation, reply, and such like. No blame wor-
thy of serious attention is attached to the poet for
his knowledge or ignorance of these. For who
would suppose there was an error, where Protago-
ras finds fault ? that the person who is supposed to
be entreating, speaks as if he were commanding,
" Sing Goddess the wrath." Because, to order
one to do a thing, he says, is command. This exa-
mination, therefore, must be reserved for another
treatise, and not /or the poetics. The following are
the parts of all discourse; element, (i. e. letter)
syllable, conjunction, noun, verb, article, case, and
sentence, A letter is an indivisible sound ; not
ev«ry sort, but th;it from which an intelligible
sound can be produced ; for the cries of beasts are
indivisible, none of which I call a letter. Its kinds
are vowel, semivowel, and mute. A vowel is that
which has an audible sound, without any allision,
aA O or A ; a semivowel, that which has an audi-
ble sound, with an allision, as L and R; and a
mute is that which with the addition of one of its
own kind has no sound, but is audible along with
those which have a sound, as G or D. These
^ain differ, according to the shape of the mouth,

9 These matters evidently belong more to the player than the
poet, because by merely changing' the tone of voice in which
he spcitksy a man owy make that command wfaich was before
entreaty.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. St

ami the organs with which they are pronoumed, by
their hardness and softness, their length and short-
ness ; as well as by the acuteness, the gravity or
mediocrity of pronunciation ; of which one must
treat separately, in a work on versiiication. Sylla-
ble is a nonsignificant sound, composed of a mute,
and a letter which has sound, for GR make a syl-
lable both without the A, and with it, as GRA,
To examine their differences, belongs also to a
work on versification. Conjunction is a nonsignifi-
cant sound, which neither prevents nor produces a
significant sound, which is made up of more sounds
than one, and may be placed either at the extre-
mities, or in the middle, although it is not elegant
to place one by itself at the beginning of a speech;
such as riToi St; ; or it is a nonsignificant sound, which
is employed to make one significant sound out of
more than one which have meaning. '° Article is
a nonsignificant sound which marks the beginning,
the end, or the distinction of a sentence, such as I
call the 6, the ^j and others j or it is a nonsignifi-
cant sound, which neither hinders nor produces a sig-
nificant sound, which is made up of more sounds
than one, either at the extremities or the middle.
Noun is a compound word, significant without re-
ference to time, no part of which has by itself a
meaning; for we do not use even double words,
as if each part had a meaning by itself; thu» in

10 It would be iiendlr.ss to waste time in explaining- thihg*
which will be found much better done in «ny Greek Gmmitjar.
We khali uuiy remark that under the h€*A af article, Aii^tAtiit
•ceuiii to i(iclii4« {»roft(Miii.

5t ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

the word Theodorus, the dorus has no slgnificatioa.
Verb is a compound word, sig^nificant with refe-
rence to time, no part of which, as in the nouns,
has any signification by itself} thus, the word man,
or white, does not distinguish time, but walks, or
did walk, does — the one the present, and the other
the past. " Case is either that of a verb or a
noun ; one kind signifying in this manner — of him,
to him, and so on ; another referring to the singular
or plural numbers, as man, or men ; and a third,
" to tone and gesture, as in asking a question, or giv-
ing a command 3 thus. Did he walk? or walk — is
the case of a verb, according to these distinctions.
Sentence is a compound significant word, some
parts of which have meaning when taken sepa-
rately } for every sentence is not composed of
nouns and verbs, '^ like the definition of man, '* but
may exist without verbs, and yet have a part as
significant, as Cleon, in the sentence Cleon walks.
•» A sentence is called single in two ways, because
jt is significant of only a single thing, or of that

11 C%at hu here a much more extended signification thai
we usuaUj five it, for it comprehcods number and mood as >veU
as caac.

1 J i*»M(irixa, " the use the player would make of it."

13 Man is an animal made up of a rational sou! and an or-
ganized body.

14 " O how wonderfnl" is a sentrncc of this kind, in which
there is no verb, but one part of which, "wonderful," is just a«
significant as the word Cleon in the sentence Cleon walks.

15 The term sentence it must be remembered, has here a
much more extended signification than that which we gene-
rally give to it. It means a whole oration or poem, in short a
subject, as well as what we usually call a sentence.

AfiisrOTLE's POETICS. sa

which from more, becomes so by connection ; tkjis
the Iliad is one setitence by connection ; and the ^e-
Jinilion of man is one, because it signifies a single
object.

XXXV. There are two species of noun, one
simple, and the other double, I call that simple
which is composed of parts which hate no signifi-
cation, as yij. One kind of double is composed of
a significant and a nonsignificant part ; another, of
two significant parts. There may be also a triple,
quadruple, and multiplex noun, like many of (he
Megalioti, as Hermocaicoxanthus. But every noun
is, proper, or foreign, metaplior, or ornament,
invented, or extended, diminished, or changed.
""' I call that proper which each particular set of
people use — and foreign, that which others employ ;
it is therefore evident that a proper and a foreign
word have the same meaning, though not to the
game people ; ft)r the wonl Sigunon is proper to
the Cyprians, but foreign to us. Metaphor again,
is the introduction of a word, ^' whose real significa-
tion is different from that in which we use it, from
genus to species, from species to genus, from spe-
cies to species, or by analogy. '* I call it n meta-

16 This does not allude to the difference of lanjjuajeg only,
tut to those words which have bofn hon'owetl from one, ani
incorporated into another. The Biigli&li supplies us ^vith many
examples of this kind.

17 All this is required to g^ire the pcopec sense of the word

18 We ose the word •* stands" metaphorically frond ffcncis to
species, because ^' to stand" is a generic term, iuciuding «uu

54 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

phot from genus to species, when me say " Th«
ship stood for me," because to be at anchor is a
species of standing. From species to genus, " U-
lysses did ten thousand gallant actions," for tea
thousand is a great number, and is now used /or
the generic term many. '^ From species to species,
when we use metaphorically the terms ** drag
away" and " cut," for both are species of the ge-
nus " to deprive." "*• I call that analogy, when of
four terms, the second has the same relation to the
first, which the fourth has to the third ; for we may
use the fourth for the second, and the second for
the fourth. And sometimes they add to that which,
expresses the resemblance, the thing for which it
stands. I mean as in this manner ; a cup has the
saume relation to Bacchus, that a shield has to
Mars J "' the poet therefore will call a shield, the
cup of Mars, and a cup, the shield of Bacchus.
Ervening in like manner is the same to the day,
that old age is to life ; he will therefore call even-
ing, the old age of the day, and old age, the e ven-
der it as species^ all the modes of being free from motion.
" Ten thousand" again, frem species to genus, because it xn only
a species of" many."

19 It is quite impossible to translate the passage tuto En-
glish. We have however given exactly the meaning.

to All this is tolerably perspicuous, but we will endeavour,
bv analyzing the best of the two examples, to make it more so.
Life, old age, day, and evening, are four terms which bear an
exact analogy to ouc another. We may therefore appTy the
fourth to the ftrst, and the second to the thTrd, and use the third
for the tirst, and the fourtli/or the second ; and the metaphor will
have perfect analogy.

SI That is, if a person speak metaphorically of a sbieldy he
does not call it (imply a cup, but the cup of Mars.

ARISTOTLE S POETIOS 55

lug' of life; or as Enipedocles has it> the sun-«et
of life. In some cases there is no analogical term
invented, ** but the expression is nevertheless used
as if there were ; thus to scatter seed, means to
sow, but the light from the sun is without a name ;
it has, however, the same reference to the sun,
"which sowing has to the seed, whence is the ex-
pression, " Sowing the god-formed tiame." Besides
this mode, a poet may use the metaphor differently,
vhen by adding a word of a different meaning, he
destroys something of its peculiarity ; as if we
were to call a shield, not the bottle of Mars, but a
bottle without wine. A made word, is one which
has received no signification from others, but
which the poet himself employs, for there appear
to be some such as Egvuraj for KepuTUj and A^tj-
TTjga for 'iegsa. A word again, is lengthened or
shortened ; the first, if it be used with a longer
vowel than usual, or a syllable added ; the second,
if any thing be taken from it ; lengthened as in
woAecoj for iroXeoj, and HrjAjaSew for TlriXetdou ; and
shortened as in XP^ ^"*^ ^"^f /<"" "f'^l ""^ du)[iec,
A changed word, when out of one already made,
he retains one part and invents another, as h^ntpov
for 8ef jov *.

9t We apply the term sowing-, which we have borrowed froot
the agricultural operatioa of putting seed into the earth, to the
•un, but there is nothing' about the sun which we can in return
apply to farming, therefore the analogy is incomplete.

* Ornament, it will be seen, is the only one of the six left un-
defined, for which two causes are assigned. One i*, that Ari»>
totle supposed it to consist iatirelj of metaphor, and did sot
therefore take the trouble to notice it lepaiately j^ the other,

56 ARISTOTLE'S PONTICS.

XXXVI. Again, some nouns are masculine,
some feminine, and some neuter. Those are mas-
culine which end in v, g, and cr, or any of the let-
ters composed of it and the mutes ; and these are
two, "^ and ^; feminines, which end in any of the-
vowels which are always long, as in »j or «;, or of
those lengthened into a. It therefore liappens,
that the letters in which masculines and feminines
end are equal in number j fur ^ and ^ are the same.
No noun ends in a mute, or in a short vowel ; '^ in
I only three, and in v five } neuters in the vowels
vte have mentioned, and in v and <r.

XXXVII. But the excellence of discourse is,
that it be perspicuous, and not mean. Tiiat is
most perspicuous which consists entirely of proper
words, but it is poor j of which the poetry of Cleo-
phon and Sthenelus is an example j but that is
noble, and surpasses the proper kind, which makes
use of uncommon expressions. I call a foreign
word, a metaphor, an extended word, and every
thing beyond a proper word, uncommon. If, at
the same time, one were to employ them entirely,,
his poem would be either a riddle, or a barbarism j
if composed entirety of metaphors, it would be a rid-
dle, if of foreign words, a barbarism. For it is the
peculiarity of a riddle, that the person who relates

i^d perhaps the most prob&ble U, tliat this part of the mana-
•cript has been lost.

43 He must here allude only to contracted lUtuas, fOr th«
Bcuters of many adjectives end in t and it.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. #7

possible events^ should mix impossibilities with
them. In a work composed of common expres-
sions, however, it is not possible to do so ; but in
a metaphorical one, it is— as *• »* I saw a man sol-
dering brass to a man with fire," and suchlike.
From the use of foreign words again, comet barba-
rism J for which reason they must be intermixed
in moderation. Foreign words, therefore, meta-
phor, ornament, and the other forms which have
been mentioned, will render a poem neither vulgar
nor poor j common expression, on the other hand,
ufill give perspicuity. But extensions, contractions,
and alterations of words, will in a great degree
tend to the perspicuity of diction, and to its free-
dom from vulgarity ; it will render it free from
vulgarity, because a diction of this kind has some-
thing in it diflFerent from the common, as it is be-
yond what is usual ; and it will be perspicuous,
because it has something in common with the
usual mode of expression. Those, therefore, who
blame this method of speaking, and who laugh at
the poet for employing it, find fault improperly j
thus old Euclid said, that it would be easy to
make poems, if one were to allow the writer to ex-
tend words to what length he chose '^*. To ap-
pear to employ it in this manner is indeed ridicu-

$4 Wliich mcaus "I saw one man cupping another," the iu-
ttrument employed in that operation being in those days made
•f brass.

25 Aristotle here gives two lines which he says Euclid com-
posed, "for the purpose of abusing this way of speaking."
The passage will not bear translation.

^8 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

lous ; but a medium is to be preserved equally in
all the parts, for the person who uses fbreij^n cx-
]»ressions, metaj)hors, and the other forms imjjro-
perly, will produce the same effect, as the man who
does it on purpose to excite laughter. Of what
importance the proper use of them in poems is,
may be seen by introducing common expressions
into the measure ; for if any one will put commori
expressions in the room of foreign, or of metaphor,
or of any of the other forms, he will perceive that
we say truth. Thus .^schylus and Euripides hav-
ing written the same iambic, and the latter having
altered only one word, by inserting a foreign for a
common expression, his appears noble, and the
other vile. For ^schylus in the Philoctetes has
made it, " A cancrous sore which eats the flesh of
my foot," but Euripides uses " devours," instead
of " eats." * Ariphrades also laughs at tragedies,
becauee they make use of expressions, which no ohe
would employ in common conversation, such as
ta)f/.aToov aTTOj and not ocno dctiixocTooVj with others of
this kind. But all these, because they are not in
common use, produce freedom from vulgarity in
the diction, of which he was ignorant. It is a
great thing to make a proper use of each of the
forms we have mentioned, namely, double wonTs,
and foreign expressions, but the greatest of all, to-
have the command of metaphor ; for this alone is
a sign of ready genius j nor indeed can we get it

• Several examples hare b*pn omitted, hccaase detached M
thejr are thcj ^vill aot bear tiva^atioa.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 59

from any other source ; "' because to be happy in
the metapliors we employ, is the same as to have
a correct discernment of things. Double words are
best adapted for dithyrambics, foreign for heroic,
and metaphor for iambic poems. In heroic, how-
ever, all the kinds we have mentioned may be em-
ployed ; but in iambic, as it principally imitates
conversation, those words are suitable which one
would make use of in speaking", and these are,
common, metaphor, and ^ ornament.

XXXVIII. Let us be satisfied with what has
been said of tragedy and imitation by acting.
"• But respecting narrative, and imitation in verse,
it is evident, that it ought to put together dramatic
stories, just as in tragedy, which relate to one
whole and perfect action, having a beginning, a
middle, and an end, if like an entire animal, it
would produce the pleasure which is peculiar to it ;
and that the compositions ought not to resemble
histories, in which it is necessary to give a rela-
tion, not of a single action, but of one ■period of
time, and of whatever accidents befal one or more
persons, during that period, each of which has or

25 By a correct srlectioii of metaphors, the poet prores him-
•eifweil acquainted with the abstract nature of thing's.

27 By ornninent he means those epithets which are used ia
common conversation.

t^B An epic |)oeni then, as well as a tragedy, ong'ht to consist
of one principal story, intersperaeil with no episo'des except
Mich as would probaWy or n«ceRsarily have happ«Hc4 in the or-
dinary course of erentc.

eo ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

hes not a reference to the others just as it happens.
For as the sea-fight at Salamis, and the battle of
the Carthagenians in Sicily took place at the same
time, and yet had no relation to the same end, so
also in succeeding periods, one thing frequently
happens after another, from which no end arises.
Yet very many of the poets do this. Wherefore
in this also, as we have have said. Homer appears
divine among the others, because he did not at-
tempt to celebrate the whole war, although it had
both a beginning and an end ; for either it would
have been too long, and so difficult to be taken
in at one view j or if rendered moderate in extent,
it would have been confused from its variety. On
the contrary, he has selected one part for his sub-
ject, and made use of many episodes collected from
the others, such as the catalogue of the ships, and
the other episodes with which he diversifies the
poem. "^ The others again, make poems on one
man, one period of time, and one action with
many parts j such as the person who has composed
the Cyprians, and the little Iliad. This is the rea-
son why only one or two tragedies can be made
out of each, from the Iliad and Odyssey ; but from
the Cyprians many ; and from the little Iliad more
than eight ; as the Adjudging of the arms, Philoc-
tetes, Nt^optolemus, Eurypylus, Lacaenae, the Re-
turn of the fleet, Sinon, and Troades.

29 These men fancy tliey preiervc the unity, if they relate
the adventures of one particular man. But they arc quite mis-
taken ; for those actions may be as widely different as if they hai
been performed by fifty difl'erent persons.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICJS. $1

XXXIX. An epic poem ought also to have the
«atne forms as a tragedy ; that is, it ought to be
simple, complex, moral, or pathetic ; its parts too,
except melody and scenery, ought to be the same,
for it should possess, peripatie, recognition, and
passion, and it ought to be noble in its sentiment
and diction j all which Homer first made use of,
and with sufficient correctness. For each of his
poems is composed in this manner ; the Iliad, as a
simple and pathetic, and the Odyssey, as a complex
(for recogi^tion runs through the whole of it) and
moral. Moreover he excels all in the nobleness of
his sentiment and diction.

XL. But epic differs from tragedy, both in th«
length of the composition, and in the measure.
The definition already given of its length, is suffi-
cient. For the beginning and the end ought to be
seen at one view. ^^ And this will be the case, if
the compositions be shorter than those of the an-
cients, and just equal to the number of tragedies
recited at one hearing. Epic poetry has a great
peculiarity in the power of extending its length j
because it is not possible that many parts going on
at once can be imitated in a tragedy, but only
that which has connection with the scene and the
performers. In an epic poem, on the other band,

30 The ttirni of an epic poem may include any poriod of time
the writer clioo«es, but the repetition or perusal of it oug'ht to
take up just«s much as was spent in listening to the prize ira-
j^«dies which were recited at one hearing. How long this is
we cannot eractly say, because we are not acquainted with the
number which was usual on those occasions.
O

#

6i ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

because it is a narrative, it is easy to represent
many parts as proceeding at one and the same
time, by means of which, provided they be agreea-
ble to the tragedy, the mass of the poem is in-
creased. This advantage therefore it possesses /or
rendering it magnificent, and also that it can
change the listener from one thing to another, and
can introduce episodes altogether different, ^i jjut
the similarity which must exist among them, as it
soon satiates, causes tragedies to fail,

XLI. We have found by experience that the
heroic verse, is the best adapted for epic poetry ;
for if one were to make an imitation by narrative
in any oth.er measure, or in more measures than
one, it would appear unsuitable. For the heroic
is the most nervous and lofty of the measures,
(whence it most readily admits of foreign words
and metaphors ; for imitation by narrative is more
abundant in these, than the others), whereas the
iambic and tretrametre are adapted to motion }
the one to that of dancing, and the other to that
q/" acting. But it would be more foolish still if
one were to mix the measures, as Chaeremon has
done. No one therefore has written a long poem
in any other measure than the heroic ; but the
very nature of the poem, as we have said, instructs
us in assigning the measure which is agreeable to
itself.

3t The episodes introdnccd in an epic poem may be nnme-
roils and quite different in their nature. In tragedy tliey must
resemble each other so closely, that a too frequent repetition
of them would iifallibly damn the piece.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 63

XLII. Homer, indeed, is deserving of praise in
many other respects, and particularly because he
alone of the poets is not ignorant of what he ought
to do. For the poet should himself say as little as
possible, as it is not by this means that he imitates.
The others, howeve.'', carry on the action in person
throughout, and therefore imitate few things, and
that rarely ; whereas he, having said a few words
by way of preface, immediately introduces a man
or woman, or something else possessed of manner,
3* and nothing without, but something which has j
and makes it speak for him.

XLIII. " In tragedy, it is true, the poet ought
to produce the wonderful ; but that which is con-
trary to reason, from which the most wonderful
comes, is more suitable to an epic poem, because
in it we do not see the actor. The story of the
pui^uit of Hector, for example, would appear ridi-
culous upon the stage, that they (the Greeks) should
stand still and not follow, and that he {Achilles)
should make signs to them ; but in the epic poem
this is not observed. The wonderful is at all tim£$
pleasing; a, proof of which is, 'that all add a little
when they tell a story, for the purpose of giving
pleasure.

Si His Gods and Goddesses are all personifications of dif-
ferent passions. His horses speak, his arrows are impatient,
hii darts tiiirst, in short every thing in his poem has manner.

33 Greater scope is given to an epic poem than to a tragedy,
because that which is too far heyond the bounds of reasga to b«
represented, may still bear to b« told.

6* ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

XLTV. Homer likewise has best instructed others
how they ought to tell a lie. ^* Hut this is a pa-
ralogism ; for men suppose, th;it since one thing i*
because another was, or one thing happens be-
cause another did happen, if the last be, the first
must necessarily have been, or have happened. But
this is false reasoning. Wherefore, although the
first may be untrue, if another of the same kind
ttike place, there is a necessity for our believing
that it did actually exist or happen > for because
We know the last to be true, our mind draws a
fiilse conclusion with respect to the first, and ajfirfiti-
tiiat it also is true. ^* But the poet ought to make

34 The r;)io)e of tliis pasvng^^ owi'n^ to t!i«>- feVitltflt cWrftp-
tiort j.^ tlif origji.al, t» excewsivsjj- oi»icijro. We liuve {»-:yi'nv
tfie mraniiig- as far us a strict adheretioc to literal trausluliuii
tfi'l allow, but'^ve slradi lierc endeavour to do it more coinnlet<i>
\f. The brst way to tell a lie, is by paraiogisiu, that is, by rpa-
soniiig from conscfuieiice. Thus the consequence of a fever ii
to be tliir«t\\ and we should' reason by consequcuce, or ern-
p!<i,V pariilog'uin, if we iverc to atlirm, that hecauvc a man \sa$.
thirsty, he had a fever. When llniiier makes a horse speak, it
is a lie by paralogism. For altlioug;li he represents Minerva
as friviii};- it that power, and thoug'h we allow the Gods to be •
able to do any thing', it does not follow because $he could, tliat
she did exerf riiat power. This ajipcars to expre.ss the mean-
iug of th* latter part of the passajje, which according' to the
reading in Tyrwhitt's edition cannot be literally traiislafod.
In some others trimuiTitij is written where he has used r^or-
Siitai, and an i is subscribed under etvayxti, which certuiolj'
render it more intelligible.

3.5 This will be evident if we bring' foi-ward examples, with
■which Homer himself supplies ns. \V hen that poet represent*
a horse as speakinpf, we know that he affirms what is physi-
cally impossible, but we believe it, because he introduces Mi-
nerva as endowing it with that |)ower. /^^ain, when he tells u*
that [lector ran away from Achilles, w(» have much more dif-
fictilty in believing it, becatisc aUhiiii;;h the thing is not, like,
the other, iu direct uppositiou to aa eilablishcd law of nature^

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 63

choice of incidents which are impossible, and yet
resemble truth, rather than of such as are possible,
and not likely to be believed : ^^ his stories, like-
wise, ought not to be composed of unreasonable
parts, but his chief care should be to represent no-
thing as without a reason ; and if this cannot be, it
must be out of the story ; as the ignorance of CE-
dipus respecting the manner in which Laius died :
but by no means in the drama, " as is the case in
the Electra, where persons tell of the Pythian games,
or in the Mysians, where a man comes from Sigia
to Mysia without speaking. To say that the story
would otherwise have been destroyed, is ridicu-
lous, because the poet ought not at first to have
composed such 3 but if he have composed it, and it
appear more reasonable than not, something foolish
may be admitted : thus it is evident, that the un-
reasonable parts in the Odyssey, I mean those
which refer to the exposure of Ulysses, would not
have been tolerated, had a bad poet composed
them ; but now, the poet by pleasing vs with his

yet it is so very different from wliat we would expect, tbat we
give credit to it with extreme reluctance.

36 This advice he has already given in his treatise upon tra-
gedy. Were the whole story of (Edipus, for example, tq bo
included in one poem, that part which relates to li/s ig-norance
of the manner of Laius's death would be quite without reason,
because it is impossible to imag-ine why he should have been
married to Jocasta for so long a period, before he began to
make enquiry respecting the death of her former husband.

37 In the first of these examples tiie fault lies in making
Orestes be reported to have been killed at games, which were
not instituted till five years after the time of his death, and in
the second, in the absurdity of the notion, that a man would
travel several days on end, without speaking a word.

66 A RIStmXE'S POETICS.

other wccellencies, keeps the foolish part out of
sight.

XLV. He ought also to labour his diction in
the inactive parts, suck as exhibit neither man-
ner nor sentiment ; because very brilliant expres-
sions rather obscure manner and sentiment.

XLVI. Of objections and their answers — of how
many and what kinds they- are, a sufficiently clear
view will be taken by those who thus examine the
subject. Since a poet is an imitator, as well as a
painter or any other taker of likenesses, it is ne-
cessary that he should imitate, always some one cff
these three things : he will represent things either
such as they are or were, such as people call them,
or they appear, or such as they ought to be. And
these are related, in common expressions, in fo-
reign terms, or in metaphor. ^ For there are ma-
ny passions of diction ; and these we allow poets
to make use of. ^ Besides this, the excellence of
poetry and politics is not the same, nor of poetry
and any other art. The error attendant upon poe-
try, is twofold ; one, tohich arises from itself, the
other, which proceeds from accident. ** For if it

38 Tlirre is a kind of expression suitable to every passion.
The poet is tlicrefore at Itberty to employ, whatever may be belt
adapted to represent tliat wbich he wishes to. itniiate.

39 We must not pass sentence upon a poem accordinsf to.it*
C^od or bad political tendency, neither mHst we find fault with-
tbc writer as a poet, tlioug-h he may shew him&elf but badiy
titilled io aoatomy or any. other aj't.

40 AriKtoCle here refer* t» tbc ajbllities-of^lfais poet. If he'

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. fiT

choose to imitate that which is beyond its power,
the fault is in itself j but if the choice be impro-
perly made, it arises from accident, as to represent
a. horse moving forward both his right legs ; it may
also err against each of the arts, as against medi-
cine or any other, if it invent impossibilities ; but
these, whatever they may be, proceed not from it-
self. It is therefore necessary to refute the charges
contained in criticisms, by a consideration of these.
♦' First then, the poet errs, if he invent things
Tfhich according to the rules of the art are impossi-
ble : but if by this means he gain his end, he does
right. But the end has been stated, namely, if he
can by this means, make that or any other part
more astonishing. The pursuit of Hector is art
example. If, however, he can attain his end, ei- '
ther in a greater or less degree^ and at the same time
adhere to rule, he improperly errs; because through-
out, he ought never to err, if he can help it. Be-

make choice of a subject far above his capacity, he cannot pos-
sibly succeed in his iiuitatiom, and therefore errs agTiinst tha
rules of art. But if he choose one which is within his capacitjr",
and liaudlc it hadly, the fault proceeds, not from a tiaiis^ics!n»»
of the rules of poetry, but from his own ignorauGO. 1 hus^^td
sing^ the praises of a horse seems a subject withia the stretch--
ofany man^s ahilities, but were the poet to relate as a naturals
beauty, that the horse moved both the leg^of one side together^ .
h« would err from ignorance that tiii» is. nut natural to a hone*-:

41 The pursuit of Hector he gives as an example of tliis. It
is an established rule in poetry, that do incident should be re*-,
lati^i, which is possible, and at the same time not likely'to be
h*heved. Of this natu;e is the flight of Hector. But then the
error against rule is made np for, by. the high idea whioh-the-
r««der in cousequeace forms of tbe-might- of Achilles,, to raia^
which as much as possible, was^ cestaiaLy; tbe end' vrbichi Komet
had in view.

68. ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

sides, of which kind is the error, of those gainst
rule, or from accident ? because the fault is less
if a person did n6t know that female deer have no
horns, than if he did know it, and improperly de-
scribed them. Again, if the charge be, that real
occurrences are not represented, but rather such as
ought to be ; let the poet follow the example of So-
phocles, who said, that he represented men as
they should be, Euripides as they were. In this
manner may the charge be refuted. *" But if he
imitate neither way, let him allege that men say so,
as in the stories of the Gods j for perhaps it is nei-
ther better thus to relate them, nor are they true,
but as Xenophon has said, mere matters of chance ;
nevertheless men relate them. It may happen
likewise, that the poet represents a thing, not better,
but as it is, *^ as in the account of the arms : " Their
spears stood upright by the cross iron." For thus
they had the same custom, which the lllyrians now
have. ** With respect to the question whether a

42 This seems to be the meaning' of • passage, which is
evidently corrupt, and which will not bear a literal transla-
tion.

43 Homer represents Diomede as sleeping on an ox's hide,
and his men round him with their spears &tuck in the ground.
Had his object been to draw a picture of men wiio were always
ready to fighl, he would have done it more effectually had he '
represented each man as sleeping with his spear by his side.
Bat this is not the case, for he only imitates what was a real
practice.

44 We must not censnre any single passage in a poem, with-
out taking in the context, and perceiving for what purpose the
incident may be related ; and whether, had it been different, a
greater evil might not have arisen, than what spriags from the
apparent faultiness of that one passage.

AlllSTOTLE'S POETICS. 6^

thing be said or done to any one, becomingly or
unbecomingly, it ought to be considered, by re-
garding, not only the thing done or said, whether
it be good or bad j but also the person who does op
says it, to whom, at what time, in what manner^
and for what end he thus acts j whether that a
greater good may arise, or that a greater evil may
be avoided. Other objections he may refute, by
looking to the expression j as by shewing that, a
word is used in a foreign sense ; thus Oug>)«5 j^ev
vpoiTOv has a foreign sense, for perhaps the poei
means guards, and not mules. Also the descrip-
tion of Dolon, o; dtfj TOi eihos (/.(V kr^v xaxoc, whore
hfe does not mean that his body was badly formed,
but that his face was hideous ; because the Cretan*
call a handsome man, pretty faced. And the ex-.
pression ZoopoTspov ds jcsgocipsj does not n\?as ^j'
mixed wine, as for drunkards, but that it shouM
be brought in haste. " Ihe other Gods and men-
slept all night" he says metaphorically, as also
«"But when he looked to the Trojan plain," and,
" The tumult of pipes and horns." In thejirst qf
these examples, " all" is used metaphorically for " a
great number," for all is a great number. *® Sa.
also Oi>j 8* a/i/xogoj is metaphorical ; for what is
alone, is best known. *'' 6oiae objections are re'

45 Tliis is said of Agamemnon sitting hi Iiiii tent, at nig^hf;.-'
and uieaus " wlien he tiiou<fhl upon llielrojan plain." It i*'"
therefore a metujilior.

46 Homer calls tiie Bear, " the only constellation which does
HOC bathe itself in the ocean," nieta|ihorically, because it w««
the best known of those which do not set.

^7 Almokt all the eKauples which follow are such as iu tHeit''

fO ARKTOTLE'S POETICS.

futed by alteration of accent, others by the points
ing, others by ambiguity, as frugM^rjx.sv Sf TrAejcy
yv^, where the TrXswv has a double meaning, and
others by the habit of expression, as, men call uine
mixed with toater, wine, and workers in iron, bra-
ziers ; for the same reason Ganymede is said to
pour out wine to the Gods, although they do not
drink wine : but this may also be used as a meta-
phor. When a word appears to signify any thing
contradictory, it is necessary to examine in what
sense it is significant in the expression before us,
such an one as, ^® " But there the brazen spear
stuck," which means that there it was stopped.
^ And in whatever senses it is received, it will
bear this also } particularly, as Glauco says, if one
take it up in quite an opposite sense. Besides
some men form unreasonable prejudices, and hav-
\n^ first past sentence of condemnation, argue the
point, and, as if they were disputing, find fault

detached state will not bear translation. The meaning of the
author however is plain enough.

48 Which does not mean that it remained sticking, but only
that it got no farther.

49 This passage is evidently corrupt, and certainly nearly
unintelligible. It teems to imply, that if a word in its usual
acceptation, render the circumstance related, vile, we must ex-
amine it closely, and see whether it will not bear one, as much
the reverse as possible. There is an example in liomer, in
that passage where he relates tlie exchange which Giancus
made of a suit of gold armour, for the steel armour of Oiomede.
The poet then adds E>davrirA.ai/«« x^tnSitf ^^i>a;i^iXir«Zii/f. The
usual meaning of t^iXir* is "took away," but it also signifies
" elevated." Now as the poet certainly intends to praise
Glaucus for his magnanimity, and not to blame him for mak-
ing a bad bargain, the latter is the sense in which it must here
be used.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 7i

Tvitli whatever seems good to them, if it chance to
oppose their opinion. This was the case in the
criticisms about Icarius, for the critics supposed him
to be a Lacedaemonian. It was foolish then, say
they, that Telemachus when he came to Lacedae-
mon, should not have fallen in with him. But
the case may be as the Cephallanians say ; that
Ulysses married among them, and that Icadius, not
Icarius, waa his father-in-law. The error then it is
likely, is but a quaere after all. But the general
objection of impossible, we must refer to the poe-
try, to what is better, or to common opinion.
With reference to poetry, we must say that the cre-
dible impossible, is preferable to the possible and
incredible ; they are the same, as the paintings
which Zeuxis drew : *° with reference to the bet-
ter,, that the example ought always to be excel-
lent : and with reference to what men call unrea-
sonable.*** And thus that it is not unreasonable :
for it is probable that many things may have hap-
pened contrary to probability. But things said ap-
parently in contradiction to one another, we ought
to examine, *' like elenchi in logic, whether it be

60 We have already explained what Aristotle moans, by cre-
dible impossible and possible incredible. We shall at present
therefore only notice this second reference. A poet, says Ari-
stotle, is not to tie himself down to any particular person or ob-
ject, which he is to make his model in all things. Nature at
large supplies him with materials, and there is no impropriety
in his embodying iu one object, all those perfections which she
has scattered through many. The objection therefore, that
there is nothing in real life so excellent as the poet represents
it, is futile.

.51 That is, we must examine whether the person who speaks
be the same that spoke before, whether the pe non to whom he

T2 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

really the same, tend to the same end, or be said
in the same manner; as well as whether the per-
son speaks as from himself, or a prudent man have
advised him. But the charge of unreasonablenesg
and impropriety is correct, if the poet make use of
something tmreasonable, when there is no neces-
sity for it, as Euripides does in Egseus ; or some-
thing^ improper, like the conduct of Menelaus ia
the Orestes. These criticisms they bring under
five heads ; for the things said are either impossi-
ble, or unreasonable, or bad, or contradictory, or
contrary to the correctness required by the art :
s" the answers also may be discovered from the
numbers we have stated j and they are twelve.

XLVII. One may easily doubt, whether the epic
■or tragic inaitation be preferable. For if that which
is 5^ least encumbered, be better; and this is the
kind which suits the better sort of spectators 5 it
is evident, that that which imitates every thing is

• a<ldre«ses himself b« thesainf, and whether the time, the place,
tb^ maaner, and the object be not one or all of them dificrcnt.

53 7"here are four relatini^ to the subject. What it is, what
it ought to be, wliat it is said to be, and what it may be. Fiv«
to the way iu which the port expresses bimseir, namely, whe-
ther by nietapiior, or foreign words, whether the accent, and
the pointing be correct, and in what sense he employs a word
of doubtful uieaning;. And throe which refer to the manner,
namely, whether tlie fault be proper or foreign, whether the
thinor be the same or difiereut, and whether it preserve the same
character.

A3 ^tfriMti, disagreeable, because loaded with scenery, de-
corations, foreign words, &c. Tragedy, he says, is of this aature,
and imitftteit the most minute actions, conscjueotly is so far infe-
rior tj epic poetry.

t

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 7»

encumbered. On this account the player makes
use of many motions, because the audience cannot
see any thing except what he brings forward j
**ju8t as bad flute-players turn round, if it be re-
quired to imitate a qiioit, and drag the end of the
instrument, when they play Scylla. Of this nature
is tragedy ; and thus did the old performers think
of those who succeeded them ; for Myniscus called
Callipides an ape, because he had too much motion i
and the same opinion was held of Pindarus : ^ but
as these stand with reference to one another, so
does the whole tragic art, when compared to epic
poetry. This, men say, is intended for the better
sort of spectators, and therefore has no need of
gestures ; whereas tragedy is intended for the worse.
But it is evident, that that which is encumbered,
is the worst. ^ In the first place however, we must
observe that this is a fault, not in the poetry, but in
the representation ; since it is possible to exceed
in gestures, both when reciting, *'as Sosistratus

54 A musician was esteemed excellent in proportion as he
could express imitation by the sound of his instrument. When
a bad player, therefore, attempted to imitate the motion of u
quoit in the air, he turned himself round, and if he wished to
represent Scylla swallowing' up a ship, he dragged, and soic«:-«>
times put into his mouth the end »f his instrument. These
expedients he was obliged to adopt because the sounds which
he produced by no means expressed what he wished.

55 As an actor who does not throw himself into unnecei-
•ary attitudes is to be preferred to one who does, so is epic to
trag'ic poetry.

56 Here follow the arguments in favor of tragedy and agaiust
epic imitations.

57 The reader must remember that epic poems were in those
days recited and sung, and that epic poets had % theatre and
dresses of their own.

74 ARISTOTLE'S POETICS.

did, and when singing, as did Mnasitheus the
Opuntian. In the next place, that all motion is
not to be found fault with, any more than danc-
ing, but only that of bad people, for which reason
blame is attached to Callippides, and now to othars,
because they imitate prostitutes. Besides this,
tragedy, even without motion, produces its own ef-
fect, as well as epic poetry ; for its quality is evi-
dent from a bare perusal : wherefore, if in other
respects it be superior, this fault does not necessa-
rily belong to it. And besides, that it has every
advantage which epic possesses ; for it may even
employ the same measure ; it has, moreover, mu-
sic and scenery, a part of no small consideration, by
which pleasure is most powerfully excited. ^ It
has evidence also, both in the reading and in the
performance. ^ The end of its imitation, too, is
included within a shorter period ; and that which
is more condensed, is pleasanter than what is ex-
tended over a greater space of time : I mean, for
instance, if one were to throw the GEdipus of So-
phocles into as many lines as the liiad. Besides,
the imitation of epic poems has, in some respects,
less unity in it. The proof is, that out of any such

58 It has the evidence of action, for whether we read a
play, or see it performed, we have always the idea of actors
before us, and we all know how much more apt we are to be-
lieve what we s«e than what we hear.

.^9 Tragedy includes the space of only twelve hours at aiost,
because its object is to purify the passions, which are things of
the moment. Epic poetry, on the other hand, is in this respect
nnliuited, because its object is to correct our manners and ha-
bits, which are long in forming.

I

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS. 75

imitation, more than one tragedy can be made.
Thus if men relate but one storj', *• if it be too
short it must appear mutilated ; if spun out to
the extent proper for the measure, it must appear
weak : should they tell more, I mean, should it be
composed of more than one action, it loses its
unity ; in this Avay the Iliad and Odyssey compre-
hend many such parts, each of which has sepa-
rately a certain extent : although these poems are
composed in the best manner possible, and are, as
much as can be, the imitation of but one action..
If then it excel in all these particulars, and above
all, in the accomplishment of the object which the
art has in view ; for they ought not to produce any
kind of pleasure, but only what has been assigned
to each ; it is evident, that as it attains its end bet-
ter than epic poetry, it will be altogether superior.
So much hath been said upon tragedy and epic
poetry in general, upon their species and parts,
how many they are, and in what respect they dif-
fer, upon certain causes for their being good or
bad, and upon the faults which may be found with
them, and the methods of refuting those objections,

60 If it present short things.

THE EN0.

NOTE.

Pace 51. — To conjunction Aristotle g-ives two dc-finitions
apparently so contradictory ttiat they may be apt tu confute
the reader. The first is, that it is a nonsig^niticant sound, nei-
ther preventing nor producing one significant sound, which is
composed of more sounds tliau one: and the secoud, that it is
a nonsignificant sound, whose office it is tu form one signifi-
cant sound out of many. The only difficulty, however, is in
the meaning to be attached to the term Bound or wwd. In tiie
first of these definitions it evidently refers to wiiat is generally
understood by a word, namely, man or horse, good or bad. A
conjunction coming between these, neither forms them into one
word, nor would hinder them from becoming one, could their
nature allow it. Let us take for example the two words man and
h(yr$e. Here the oonjunction and coming between them does
not and cannot convey to our minds the idea of one object, be-
cause man and hmse are by nature too much separated ever to
be artificially considered as one. The reverse is the case in the
tv*o words, righteoui and pious. These two are naturally so si-
milar, that when they are cou[)led with a conjunction, we rea-
dily and immediately conceive them to be but one. The latter
definition relates entirely to a sentence or story, which is called
one word, from the idea of unity which it produces in the mind ;
and it is only by the help of conjuBctioiu, that s story caa be so
connected as to produce that idea.

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