The question may be raised whether the epic or the tragic
is the higher form of imitation.
It may be argued that, if
the less vulgar is the higher, and the less vulgar is always
that which addresses the better public, an art addressing
any and every one is of a very vulgar order.
It is a belief
that their public cannot see the meaning, unless they add
something themselves, that causes the perpetual movements
of the performers—bad flute-players, for instance, rolling
about, if quoit-throwing is to be represented, and pulling at
the conductor, if Scylla is the subject of the piece.
Tragedy,
then, is said to be an art of this order—to be in fact just
what the later actors were in the eyes of their predecessors;
for Mynniscus used to call Callippides ‘the ape,’ because
he thought he so overacted his parts; and a similar view
was taken of Pindarus also. All Tragedy, however, is said
to stand to the Epic as the newer to the older school of
actors.
The one, accordingly, is said to address a cultivated
audience, which does not need the accompaniment of gesture;
the other, an uncultivated one. If, therefore, Tragedy is
a vulgar art, it must clearly be lower than the Epic.
The answer to this is twofold. In the first place, one
may urge (1) that the censure does not touch the art of the
dramatic poet, but only that of his interpreter; for it is
quite possible to overdo the gesturing even in an epic
recital, as did Sosistratus, and in a singing contest, as did
Mnasitheus of Opus.
(2) That one should not condemn
all movement, unless one means to condemn even the dance,
but only that of ignoble people—which is the point of
the criticism passed on Callippides and in the present day
on others, that their women are not like gentlewomen.
(3)
That Tragedy may produce its effect even without movement
or action in just the same way as Epic poetry; for from
the mere reading of a play its quality may be seen. So
that, if it be superior in all other respects, this element of
inferiority is no necessary part of it.
In the second place, one must remember (1) that Tragedy
has everything that the Epic has
(even the epic metre being
admissible), together with a not inconsiderable addition in
the shape of the Music (a very real factor in the pleasure
of the drama) and the Spectacle.
(2) That its reality of
presentation is felt in the play as read, as well as in the
play as acted.
(3) That the tragic imitation requires less
space for the attainment of its end; (the more concentrated
effect is more pleasurable than one with a large admixture
of time to dilute it—consider the Oedipus of Sophocles, for
instance, and the effect of expanding it into the number of
lines of the Iliad);
(4) That there is less unity in the
imitation of the epic poets, as is proved by the fact that
any one work of theirs supplies matter for several tragedies;
the result being that, if they take what is really a single
story, it seems curt when briefly told, and thin and waterish
when on the scale of length usual with their verse. In saying
that there is less unity in an epic, I mean an epic made
up of a plurality of actions,
in the same way as the Iliad
and Odyssey have many such parts, each one of them in
itself of some magnitude; yet the structure of the two
Homeric poems is as perfect as can be, and the action in
them is as nearly as possible one action.
If, then, Tragedy is superior in these respects, and also
besides these, in its poetic effect (since the two forms of
poetry should give us, not any or every pleasure, but the
very special kind we have mentioned), it is clear that, as
attaining the poetic effect better than the Epic, it will be
the higher form of art.
So much for Tragedy and Epic poetry—for these two
arts in general and their species; the number and nature of
their constituent parts; the causes of success and failure in
them; the Objections of the critics, and the Solutions in
answer to them.
Poetics. Aristotle. Ingram Bywater (Translator), ed. Gilbert Murray. Oxford. 1909.