LITR 4533 Tragedy—University of Houston-Clear Lake

Selections regarding Tragedy (and Comedy) from Aristotle's Poetics

from Aristotle.  Poetics.  330 BCE.  Text from S. H. Butcher, translator, Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Art, 4th ed. (NY: Dover, 1955); reprinted in Hazard Adams, ed.  Critical Theory since Plato (San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1971): 48-66.

[Instructor has bolded highlights and made minor editorial additions or changes for clarity and inclusive language.]

I.  Epic poetry and tragedy, comedy also . . . are all in their general conception modes of imitation [or representation].  They differ, however, from one another in three respects--the medium, the objects, the manner or mode of imitation, being in each case distinct. . . .

IV.  Poetry in general seems to have sprung from two causes, each of them lying deep in our nature.  First, the instinct of imitation is implanted in [humanity] from childhood, one difference between [the human] and other animals being that people are the most imitative of living creatures, and through imitation we learn our earliest lessons; and no less universal is the pleasure felt in things imitated . . . .  The cause of this again is, that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers but to [humans] in general; whose capacity, however, of learning is more limited.  Thus the reason why men enjoy seeing a likeness is, that in contemplating it they find themselves learning or inferring, and saying perhaps, "Ah, that is he."  For if you happen not to have seen the original, the pleasure will be due not to the imitation as such, but to the execution, the coloring, or some such other cause.

            Imitation, then is one instinct of our nature.  Next, there is the instinct for "harmony" and rhythm . . . .

V.  Comedy is . . . an imitation of characters of a lower type . . . .  It consists in some defect or ugliness which is not painful or destructive.  To take an obvious example, the comic mask is ugly and distorted, but does not imply pain.

VI.  Tragedy . . . is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude . . . ; in the form of action, not of narrative, through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions. . . .

            Again, tragedy is the imitation of an action, and an action implies personal agents, who necessarily possess certain distinctive qualities both of character and thought; for it is by these that we qualify actions themselves, and these--thought and character--are the two natural causes from which actions spring, and on actions again all success or failure depends.  Hence, the plot is the imitation of the action--for by plot I here mean the arrangement of the incidents. . . .

            But most important of all is the structure of the incidents.  For tragedy is an imitation, not of men, but of an action and of life, and life consists in action, and its end is a mode of action, not a quality.  Now character determines men's qualities, but it is by their actions that they are happy or the reverse. . . .  [T]he most powerful elements of emotional interest in tragedy--peripeteia or reversal of the situation, and recognition scenes--are parts of the plot.  A further proof is, that novices in the art attain to finish of diction and precision of portraiture before they can construct the plot. . . .

            The plot, then, is the first principle, and, as it were, the soul of a tragedy: character holds the second place.  A similar fact is seen in painting.  The most beautiful colors, laid on confusedly, will not give as much pleasure as the chalk outline of a portrait. . . .

            Character is that which reveals moral purpose, showing what kinds of things a man chooses or avoids. . . .

            The spectacle has, indeed, an emotional attraction of its own, but, of all the parts, it is the least artistic, and connected least with the art of poetry.  For the power of tragedy, we may be sure, is felt even apart from representation and actors.  Besides, the production of spectacular effects depends more on the art of the stage machinist than on that of the poet. . . .

VII.  Now, according to our definition, tragedy is an imitation of an action that is complete, and whole, and of a certain magnitude . . . .  A whole is that which has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

VIII.  As therefore, in the other imitative arts, the imitation is one when the object imitated is one, so the plot, being an imitation of an action, must imitate one action and that a whole, the structural union of the parts being such that, if any one of them is displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and disturbed.  For a thing whose presence or absence makes no visible difference, is not an organic part of the whole.

IX.  [I]t is not the function of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may happen--what is possible according to the law of probability or necessity.  Poetry . . . is a more philosophical and higher thing than history: for poetry tends to express the universal, history the particular. . . .

            [T]he poet or maker should be the maker of plots rather than of verses; since he is a poet because he imitates, and what he imitates are actions. . . .

            Of all plots and actions the episodic are the worst.  I call a plot "episodic" in which the episodes or acts succeed one another without probably or necessary sequence. . . .

            But again, tragedy is an imitation not only of a complete action, but of events inspiring fear or pity.  Such an effect is best produced when the events come on us by surprise; and the effect is heightened when, at the same time, they follow as cause and effect. . . .

XI.  Reversal of the situation is a change by which the action veers round to its opposite, subject always to our rule of probability or necessity.  Thus in the Oedipus, the messenger comes to cheer Oedipus and free him from his alarms about his mother, but by revealing who he is, he produces the opposite effect. . . .

            Recognition, as the name indicates, is a change from ignorance to knowledge, producing love or hate between the persons destined by the poet for good or bad fortune.  The best form of recognition is coincident with a reversal of the situation, [creating a complex plot,] as in the Oedipus. . . .  This recognition, combined with reversal, will produce either pity or fear; and actions producing these effects are those which, by our definition, tragedy represents. . . .

XIII.  [A perfect tragedy should] imitate actions which excite pity and fear, this being the distinctive mark of tragic imitation.  It follows plainly, in the first place, that the change of fortune presented must not be the spectacle of a virtuous man brought from prosperity to adversity: for this moves neither pity nor fear; it merely shocks us.  Nor, again, that of a bad man passing from adversity to prosperity: for nothing can be more alien to the spirit of tragedy; it possesses no single tragic quality; it neither satisfies the moral sense, nor calls forth pity or fear.  Nor, again, should the downfall of the utter villain be exhibited.  A plot of this kind would, doubtless, satisfy the moral sense, but it would inspire neither pity nor fear; for pity is aroused by unmerited misfortune, fear by the misfortune of a man like ourselves.  Such an event, therefore, will be neither pitiful nor terrible.  There remains, then, the character between these two extremes--that of a man who is not eminently good and just, yet whose misfortune is brought about not by vice or depravity, but by some error or frailty.  He must be one who is highly renowned and prosperous--a personage like Oedipus, Thyestes, or other illustrious men of such families. . . .

            [T]he best tragedies are founded on the story of a few houses--on the fortunes of Alcmaeon, Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Telephus, and those others who have done or suffered something terrible. . . .  Hence they are in error who censure Euripides just because he follows this principle in his plays, many of which end unhappily.  It is, as we have said, the right ending.  The best proof is that on the stage and in dramatic competition, such plays, if well worked out, are the most tragic in effect; and Euripides, faulty though he may be in the general management of his subject, yet is felt to be the most tragic of the poets. . . .

XIV.  Fear and pity may be aroused by spectacular means; but they may also result from the inner structure of the piece, which is the better way, and indicates a superior poet.  For the plot ought to be so constructed that, even without the aid of the eye, he who hears the tale told will thrill with horror and melt to pity at what takes place.  This is the impression we should receive from hearing the story of Oedipus. . . .

            Let us then determine what are the circumstances which strike us as terrible or pitiful.

            Actions capable of this effect must happen between persons who are either friends or enemies or indifferent to one another.  In an enemy kills an enemy, there is nothing to excite pity either in the act or the intention--except so far as the suffering in itself is pitiful.  So again with indifferent persons.  But when the tragic incident occurs between those who are near or dear to one another--if, for example, a brother kills, or intends to kill, a brother, a son his father, a mother her son, a son his mother, or any other deed of the kind is done--these are the situations to be looked for by the poet.

XV.  As in the structure of the plot, so too in the portraiture of character, the poet should always aim either at the necessary or the probable. . . .  [T]he unraveling of the plot, no less than the complication, must arise out of the plot itself, it must not be brought about by the deus ex machina [i. e., "the god in the machine," divine intervention]--as in the Medea . . . .  The deus ex machina should be employed only for events external to the drama--for antecedent or subsequent events, which lie beyond the range of human knowledge, and which require to be reported or foretold; for to the gods we ascribe the power of seeing all things.  Within the action there must be nothing irrational.  If the irrational cannot be excluded, it should be outside the scope of the tragedy.  Such is the irrational element of the Oedipus of Sophocles.

            Again, since tragedy is an imitation of persons who are above the common level, the example of good portrait-painters should be followed.  They, while reproducing the distinctive form of the original, make a likeness which is true to life and yet more beautiful.  So too the poet, in representing men who are irascible or indolent, or have other defects of character, should preserve the type and yet ennoble it.

XVIII.  Every tragedy falls into two parts--complication and unraveling or denouement. . . .

            The chorus too should be regarded as one of the actors; it should be an integral part of the whole, and share in the action, in the manner not of Euripides but of Sophocles.