Poetics. Aristote. Paris. 1692.
La poëtique d'Aristote (André Dacier, 1692) (OCR draft) (fra) (André Dacier's French translation of Aristotle's Poetics, published in 1692.)
Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.
3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-483
ἀτεχνότερον:
see on 6, 1450 b 17. In such instances the effect depends too much on the
σκευοποιός (or costumier), and too little on the poet himself.
3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-484
χορηγίας.
The word has been taken to mean 'adminiculum' (
Valla), 'impendium' (
Paccius), 'choragi opera et sumptus' (
Heinsius), 'suppeditatio aliena' (
Tyrwhitt), 'expensive apparatus' (
Twining,
Hermann), 'apparatus' (
L. and S.), and 'Unterstützung durch äussere Mittel' (
Ueberweg, after
Vahlen,
Beitr. 2 p. 20). This last rendering, which is practically the same as
Tyrwhitt's, is probably right. It aptly points the contrast between the means supplied by the poet himself, and those which are outside his art and have to be furnished by others; and it is also in accordance with
Aristotle's use of
χορηγία and
χορηγεῖν in the
Ethics and
Politics (v.
Bon.
Ind. 852 b 52 and 60). Thus in
Eth. N. 10. 8, 1178 b 24
he says
τῆς ἐκτὸς χορηγίας ἐπὶ μικρὸν ἢ ἐπ᾿ ἔλαττον δεῖται (scil.
ἡ τοῦ νοῦ ἀρετή), and in
1. 11, 1101 a 15
(comp.
10. 9, 1179 a 11
)
τὸν κατ᾿ ἀρετὴν τελείαν ἐνεργοῦντα καὶ τοῖς ἐκτὸς ἀγαθοῖς ἱκανῶς κεχορηγημένον.. More than one, however, of the recent interpreters of the
Poetics seem to have assumed (with
Heinsius) that in a discussion on matters theatrical
χορηγία must be supposed to retain its original theatrical sense, that of the service of a choregus. The answer to this is that we constantly find
Aristotle even in the
Poetics using the technical terms of the theatre in the more general sense they had or had acquired in ordinary language. Instances of this are
ἀγωνίζεσθαι (24, 1460 a 9),
συναγωνίζεσθαι (18, 1456 a 26),
πρωταγωνιστής (4, 1449 a 18),
ἐπεισόδιον (17, 1455 a 23),
ἐπεισοδιοῦν (17, 1455 b 1),
ἐπεισοδιώδης (9, 1451 b 34),
ἀπὸ μηχανῆς (15, 1454 b 2),
ἐκ περιπετείας (16, 1454 b 29),
ὑποκριτικά (20, 1457 a 21). It seems to be agreed too that the duties of the choregus were mainly, if not entirely, with the chorus, and that he had nothing to do with the make-up of the actors (
A. Müller,
Gr. Bühnenalterthümer p. 336).
1453b 14
4.
mvp-aristotle-comment-485
τὸ τερατῶδες.
The reference here is to the appearance of certain of the more monstrous creations of Greek mythology.
Such abnormal personages required on the stage a peculiar make-up and special masks:
Pollux 4. 141
τὰ δὲ ἔκσκευα πρόσωπα Ἀκταίων ἐστὶ κερασφόρος .. ἢ Ἄργος πολυόφθαλμος, Εὐίππη ἡ Χείρωνος ὑπαλλαττομένη εἰς ἵππον παρ᾿ Εὐριπίδη (comp.
Sommerbrodt,
Scaenica p. 204). In existing plays we have a clear instance of a personage of this kind in the
βούκερως παρθένος,
Io, in
Prom. 588
(comp. 674), and in the
Furies in the
Eumenides, who are said to look more like
Gorgons than women (
Eum. 48
). The prominence of such figures in the dramas of
Aeschylus was noted by the ancients:
Vita Aeschyli (p. 2 Dind.)
ταῖς τε γὰρ ὄψεσι καὶ τοῖς μύθοις πρὸς ἔκπληξιν τερατώδη μᾶλλον ἢ πρὸς ἀπάτην κέχρηται..
τὸ τερατώδες on the stage may be
φοβερόν, and thus a means—though an illegitimate one (supra b 7)—of producing a tragic effect (
φόβος). When it does not serve this dramatic purpose (
τὸ τερατῶδες μόνον), however, it is out of place in Tragedy, since the pleasure it gives us is not the true tragic pleasure, which depends on the excitement of pity and fear (
τὴν ἀπ᾿ ἐλέου καὶ φόβου ἡδονήν b 12), and on that alone.
Aristotle does not stop to explain our pleasure in
τὸ τερατώδες, but it is easy to supply the omission, if one remembers that anything of the nature of a
τέρας is marvellous (
θαυμαστόν; comp.
Herodotus 4. 28
and
Plato Hipp. mai. 283 c
), and that the marvellous is recognized by
Aristotle (
τὸ θαυμαστὸν ἡδύ, 24, 1460 a 17) as one of the great causes of human pleasure (see on 9, 1452 a 4).
κοινωνοῦσιν =
κοινὸν ἔχουσιν (
Bon.
Ind. 400 a 39).
1453b 18
5.
mvp-aristotle-comment-486
φανερόν.
The argument here may be thus restated: A play is essentially a
μίμησις πράξεως (6, 1449 b 36 and passim); if it is to arouse pity and fear, therefore, it must do that through the
ἐλεεινὰ καὶ φοβερά in its
πρᾶξις (ἐν τοῖς πράγμασιν), not through merely material accessories supplied
ab extra by others (comp. supra b 7).
5.
mvp-aristotle-comment-487
τοῦτο:
i. e.
τὸ ἐλεεινὸν καὶ φοβερόν. For similar instances of this allusive use of the neuter of the demonstrative, which is so common in all Greek (
Kühner,
Gr. Gr. 2. 1 p. 35), see 13, 1453 a 24; 17, 1455 a 26; 24, 1460 a 38.
1453b 19
6.
mvp-aristotle-comment-488
ποῖα οὖν δεινὰ ἢ ποῖα οἰκτρά.
Aristotle amends his question
ποῖα δεινά by the alternative
ποῖα οἰκτρά. The tragic poet is not concerned with
δεινά in general, but only with those calculated to arouse pity (
οἰκτρά).
1453b 21
ἢ =
vel potius,
as in
De anima 2. 5, 417 a 5
ὧν ἐστὶν ἡ αἴσθησις καθ αὐτὰ ἢ τὰ συμβεβηκότα τούτοις (v.
Pacius ad loc. and
Kühner,
Gr. Gr. 2. 2 p. 297). As
Aristotle proceeds to show, the deed of horror (
τὸ δεινόν) may be either actual or only contemplated; and if actual, it may be either within the play itself, and identical with the
πάθος (v. 11, 1452 b 11), or anterior to the action of the play, and distinct from the
πάθος. In the
Oedipus Tyrannus, for instance, the deed of horror, the slaying of
Laius, takes place before the opening of the play, the action of which is made up (1) of a series of
φοβερά (alarming incidents) leading up to the catastrophe, and (2) a
πάθος, which consists in the agony and remorse of
Oedipus (see on 11, 1452 b 13).
τὰς τοιαύτας πράξεις =
τὰς δεινὰς πράξεις.
With such actions there are three possibilities: the parties concerned (the slayer and the slain, for instance) may be either (1) friends, or (2) enemies, or (3) indifferent to each other; in all three situations there is something
δεινόν, but it is only the first that is felt to be especially piteous; it is therefore at once
δεινόν and
οἰκτρόν, and thus eminently adapted for the purposes of Tragedy (
ταῦτα ζητητέον a 22).
1453b 22
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-489
ἂν μὲν οὖν ἐχθρὸς ἐχθρόν,
scil.
τοιαῦτα ποιῇ, understood from the preceding
εἶναι τὰς τοιαύτας πράξεις. In many instances the ellipse is not so easily supplied, e. g. in
Rhet. 1. 6, 1363 a 27
(ἀγαθά ἐστι) καὶ τὰ ἴδια καὶ ἃ μηδείς, καὶ τὰ περιττά. —
Rhet. 2. 23, 1397 a 20
καὶ ὅτι εἰ μηδὲ Θησεὺς ἠδίκησεν, οὐδ᾽ Ἀλέξανδρος, καὶ εἰ μηδ᾽ οἱ Τυνδαρίδαι, οὐδ᾽ Ἀλέξανδρος, καὶ εἰ Πάτροκλον Ἕκτωρ, καὶ Ἀχιλλέα Ἀλέξανδρος (comp.
Vahlen on the present passage).
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-490
1453b 23
οὐδὲν ἐλεεινὸν,
scil.
ποιεῖ. There is nothing in the deed then to call forth pity either for the doer or the sufferer. That the doer of the deed may sometimes claim our pity, is not distinctly said, but it is clear from the instances which follow,
Orestes,
Medea,
Oedipus, etc.; it is incidentally recognized also in the analysis of 'the involuntary' in
Eth. N. 3. 1, 1109 b 31
ἐπὶ μὲν τοῖς ἑκουσίοις ἐπαίνων καὶ ψόγων γινομένων, ἐπὶ δὲ τοῖς ἀκουσίοις συγγνώμης, ἐνίοτε δὲ καὶ ἐλέου (comp. 3. 2, 1111 a 1).
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-491
μέλλων,
scil.
ποιεῖν, just as in b 21
μέλλῃ = μέλλῃ ἀποκτείνειν. The alternative
οὔτε μέλλων is added because pity may be aroused by the spectacle of impending, as well as by that of actually present anguish:
Rhet. 2. 8, 1386 a 1
τὰ γεγονότα ἄρτι ἢ μέλλοντα διὰ ταχέων ἐλεεινότερα (comp. 2. 5, 1382 b 26).
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-492
πλὴν κατ᾿ αὐτὸ τὸ πάθος:
i. e. in this, as also in the following case (
οὐδ᾽ ἂν μηδετέρως ἔχοντες), the spectacle of suffering humanity may arouse a certain human feeling (akin to pity) for the sufferer (see on 13, 1452 b 38), but it is not, in the proper sense of the term, 'piteous', since the moral condition of pity is wanting; we cannot say that the man ought not to suffer (comp. 13, 1453 a 4). When the parties, however, are related to one another (
ὅταν δ᾽ ἐν ταῖς φιλίαις ἐγγένηται τὰ πάθη), the evil comes from a quarter from which it was not to be expected, and the situation is 'piteous' as well as horrible; comp.
Rhet. 2. 8, 1386 a 11
(ἐλεεινόν ἐστι) τὸ ὅθεν προσῆκεν ἀγαθόν τι πρᾶξαι [ὑπάρξαι Vahlen] κακόν τι συμβῆναι..
9.
mvp-aristotle-comment-493
ἐν ταῖς φιλίαις.
φιλία here practically means 'cognatio' (comp.
Bon.
Ind. 818 b 10).
9.
mvp-aristotle-comment-494
1453b 21
ἤ τι ἄλλο τοιοῦτον.
As defined in 11, 1452 b 11
πάθος includes other forms of suffering besides violent deaths.
1453b 23
10.
mvp-aristotle-comment-495
τὴν Κλυταιμνήστραν ἀποθανοῦσαν,
'the slaying of Clytaemnestra.' For this use of the participle see on 13, 1453 a 4 (
δυστυχούντα). On the alternative spelling
Κλυταιμήστρα see
Roscher's Lex. s. v. and
Vitelli,
Studi Italiani 1 p. 239. There is hardly a trace of it in the MSS. of
Homer (
Ludwich,
Homerica I-V p. 5; comp.
Wilamowitz,
Commentariolum grammaticum IV p. 11).
1453b 25
11.
mvp-aristotle-comment-496
αὐτὸν:
emphatic as in 9, 1451 b 36; 21, 1457 a 34; 24, 1460 a 6.
11.
mvp-aristotle-comment-497
εὑρίσκειν
is followed by an infinitive in 14, 1454 a 11
εὗρον ... παρασκευάζειν, and (in the middle) in
Eurip. Med. 195
οὐδεὶς λύπας ηύρετο μούσῃ καὶ πολυχόρδοις ᾠδαῖς παύειν..
1453b 29
12.
mvp-aristotle-comment-498
εἰδότας καὶ γιγνώσκοντας,
scil.
πράττοντας. Instead of saying
ἔστι γίνεσθαι τὴν πρᾶξιν ὑπ᾽ εἰδότων καὶ γιγνωσκόντων,
Aristotle introduces the qualification in the clause with
ὥσπερ, which thus becomes a substantive part of the statement (comp. 11, 1452 a 23; 18, 1456 a 27; 21, 1457 b 24).
γιγνώσκοντας:
Rhet. 2. 1, 1378 a 14
ἐνδέχεται μὴ τὰ βέλτιστα συμβουλεύειν γιγνώσκοντας. —
Demosth. 10. 17
ταῦτα τοίνυν ἕκαστον εἰδότα καὶ γιγνώσκοντα παρ᾿ αὐτῷ κτέ..
12.
mvp-aristotle-comment-499
Εὐριπίδης:
see on 6, 1450 a 25.
12.
mvp-aristotle-comment-500
Μήδειαν:
Eurip. Med. 1236
.
1453b 31
13.
mvp-aristotle-comment-501
ὁ Σοφοκλέους Οἰδίπους:
comp. 15, 1454 b 8.
Sophocles is named because there were others who had dramatized the
Oedipus story (
Nauck,
TGF. p. 967) as well as
Sophocles.
13.
mvp-aristotle-comment-502
μὲν οὖν:
see on 22, 1458 a 25.
13.
mvp-aristotle-comment-503
ἔξω τοῦ δράματος:
15, 1454 b 7
ἔξω τῆς τραγῳδίας. — 17, 1455 b 8
ἔξω τοῦ μύθου. — 24, 1460 a 29
ἔξω τοῦ μυθεύματος. There is a reference to this form of dramatic construction in
Eth. N. 1. 11, 1101 a 32
τὰ παράνομα καὶ δεινὰ προϋπάρχειν ἐν ταῖς τραγῳδίαις..
13.
mvp-aristotle-comment-504
1453b 33
ὁ Ἀλκμέων ὁ Ἀστυδάμαντος:
Nauck,
TGF. p. 777 and 964.
13.
mvp-aristotle-comment-505
τῷ τραυματίᾳ Ὀδυσσεῖ:
another name perhaps for the
Ὀδυσσεὺς ἀκανθοπλήξ of
Sophocles (
Nauck l. c. p. 230).
1453b 35
13.
mvp-aristotle-comment-506
ἀναγνωρίσαι,
scil.
τὴν φιλίαν, as in b 31 (see on 16, 1454 b 32).
16.
mvp-aristotle-comment-507
1454a2
τό τε γὰρ μιαρὸν κτέ.:
i. e. it offends our moral sensibilities (see on
13, 1452 b 36
) as a sin against the laws of natural affection; and it is untragic also, through the absence of the element of suffering.
1454a
16.
mvp-aristotle-comment-508
ποιεῖ ὁμοίως,
said of a dramatic personage, recalls the idea of
γινώσκοντα μελλῆσαι καὶ μὴ πρᾶξαι in
1453 b 38
.
16.
mvp-aristotle-comment-509
ἐν Ἀντιγόνῃ:
Soph.
Ant. 1231.
16.
mvp-aristotle-comment-510
τὸν Κρέοντα ὁ Αἵμων,
scil.
τοῦτο ποιεῖ, . .
μέλλει ἀποκτείνειν · ἀποκτείνει δὲ οὔ (comp.
a 6
), as is implied in
Goulston's paraphrase,
'Creontem patrem Haemon sciens perimere conatus est, nec perfecit tamen.' The ellipse is not unlike that in
ἂν μὲν οὖν ἐχθρὸς ἐχθρόν in
1453 b 17
.
18.
mvp-aristotle-comment-511
βέλτιον,
scil.
τοῦ γινώσκοντα πρᾶξαι.
18.
mvp-aristotle-comment-512
4
ἐκπληκτικόν.
ἔκπληξις is a very general term for the loss of self-possession that may result from a mental shock. In use, however, it often has the more special sense of extreme surprise; the definition of it in fact in
Top. 4. 5, 126 b 17
is
θαυμασιότης ὑπερβάλλουσα,
'admiratio exsuperans' (
Pacius). The Discovery is said both here and in
16, 1455 a 17
to be 'astounding', just in the same way as a
περιπέτεια—which in a play is so intimately connected with the Discovery—is said in
Rhet. 1. 11, 1371 b 10
to be
θαυμαστόν. The affinity of sense between
ἐκπληκτικόν and
θαυμαστόν is indirectly shown by the fact that
Aristotle describes the 'pursuit of Hector' in the
Iliad in one place as
θαυμαστόν (
24, 1460 a 14
), and in another as
ἐκπληκτικόν (
25, 1460 b 25
). I cannot agree with
Tumlirz (
Die tragischen Affecte Mitleid und Furcht nach Aristoteles p. 34), who supposes that, as used in the
Poetics, the terms
ἔκπληξις and
ἐκπληκτικόν denote the excitement or tension with which the audience awaits the Discovery.
19.
mvp-aristotle-comment-513
κράτιστον
=
potissimum.
Aristotle's view of the construction exemplified in the
Iphigenia in Tauris is presumably this, that the full effect of Tragedy is attained in the most artistic way, without the adjunct of physical suffering, and with the minimum of offence to our moral sensibilities. His ultimate preference for this construction is intelligible enough in itself; and we have been prepared for it to some extent by his recognition throughout this chapter of the legitimacy of a situation like that in the
Iphigenia, in which the deed of horror, though contemplated, is not actually carried out (comp.
μέλλων
1453 b 18,
μέλλῃ
b 21,
μέλλοντα
b 34
). The criterion which now determines the relative value of these possible situations in Tragedy is a moral one, their effect not on the emotions, but on the moral sensibility of the audience. The first of the four situations is set aside as
μιαρόν, 'morally offensive' (
1453 b 38
); the second (
τὸ γινώσκοντα πρᾶξαι; see on
a 2
) also is
μιαρόν; the third just avoids being that (
1454 a 3
), because the unholy deed is done in ignorance; the fourth, however, in which a timely Discovery saves us from the rude shock to our moral feelings which is inevitable even with the third kind of plot, is pronounced to be
κράτιστον. This seems to be the rationale of the present classification, and the explanation of the discrepancy between the statement in the text and that in
13, 1453 a 24
. In chap. 13
Aristotle was thinking only of the emotional effect of tragedy as produced by the most obvious means; here he comes to see that the same effect may be produced in a finer form without their aid. It is his somewhat tardy recognition of the necessity of avoiding
τὸ μιαρόν that has caused this change of view.
19.
mvp-aristotle-comment-514
5
ἐν τῷ Κρεσφόντῃ:
a play of
Euripides (
Nauck,
TGF. p. 497). It is referred to in
Eth. N. 3. 2, 1111 a 11
οἰηθείη δ᾽ ἄν τις καὶ τὸν υἱὸν πολέμιον εἶναι ὥσπερ ἡ Μερόπη.
19.
mvp-aristotle-comment-515
ἐν τῇ Ἰφιγενείᾳ:
comp.
17, 1455 b 9
.
19.
mvp-aristotle-comment-516
a 8
ἐν τῇ Ἕλλῃ.
Nothing more seems to be known of the play (
Nauck p. 837).
a 9
20.
mvp-aristotle-comment-517
διὰ γὰρ τοῦτο
reverts to what was said as far back as
1453 b 19-22
; the whole of the intervening statement (
1453 b 22
τοὺς μὲν οὖν—
1454 a 8
ἀνεγνώρισεν) is a digression. Other digressions of considerable length are found in chap. 1 (see on
1, 1447 b 11
), in chap. 9 (see on
9, 1451 b 27
), in chap. 15 (see on
15, 1454 b 8
), and in chap. 22 (see on
22, 1459 a 31
).
20.
mvp-aristotle-comment-518
πάλαι:
in
13, 1453 a 19
. Aristotelian instances of
πάλαι in a back-reference may be seen in
An. post. 2. 19, 100 a 14
(comp.
1. 3, 97 b 7
), in
Phys. 8. 3, 254 a 16
(comp.
253 a 32
and
b 10
), in
Pol. 2. 4, 1262 b 29
(comp.
1262 a 26
), and
3. 11, 1282 a 15
(comp.
1281 a 42
).
20.
mvp-aristotle-comment-519
a 10
ζητοῦντες:
comp.
Metaph. 6, 1048 a 30
διὸ ζητοῦντες καὶ περὶ τούτων διήλθομεν. —
Xenophanes Fr. 18 (
Diels)
οὗτοι ἀπ᾿ ἀρχῆς πάντα θεοὶ θνητοῖς ὑπέδειξαν, ἀλλὰ χρόνῳ ζητοῦντες ἐφευρίσκουσιν ἄμεινον.
Quintilian (5. 10. 120) has a very similar observation on the discovery of the various forms of argument in oratory:
Neque enim artibus editis factum est ut argumenta inveniremus, sed dicta sunt omnia antequam praeciperentur, mox ea scriptores observata et collecta ediderunt.
1454 a 12
ἀναγκάζονται:
comp.
9, 1451 b 21
. They are obliged to keep to these well-known stories (comp.
9, 1451 b 23
), because they have not the art to discover or invent new ones equally fitted for the purposes of Tragedy.
20.
mvp-aristotle-comment-520
a 13
τὰ τοιαῦτα . . πάθη:
see
14, 1453 b 19-22
.
3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-328
14.3
C'est à quoy l'addreſſe du Poëte n'a point de part, cela depend bien plus de ceux qui fourniſſent les decorations &c.]
1
4.
mvp-aristotle-comment-329
14.4
Ceux qui ne cherchent pas le terrible par la decoration, mais qui cherchent le monstrueux, s'éloignent encore beaucoup du but de la Tragedie.]
2
5.
mvp-aristotle-comment-330
14.5
Car la Tragedie n'est pas faite pour nous donner indiffe-remment toute forte de plaisir, mais feulement celuy qui luy est propre.]
3
6.
mvp-aristotle-comment-331
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-332
14.5
Et par conſequent il eſt clair que le Poëte doit produire en nous ce plaisir par le moyen des choses qu'il reprefente.]
5
1.
mvp-aristotle-comment-333
14.6
Tout ce qui arrive, arrive ou entre des amis, ou entre des ennemis ou entre des personnes indifferentes.]
6
2.
mvp-aristotle-comment-334
14.7
Un ennemy qui tuë ou qui va tuer ſon ennemy, n'excite d'autre pitié que celle qui nait du mal mème.]
7
3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-335
4.
mvp-aristotle-comment-336
5.
mvp-aristotle-comment-337
6.
mvp-aristotle-comment-338
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-339
8.
mvp-aristotle-comment-340
9.
mvp-aristotle-comment-341
14.10
Voilà pourquoy il ne faut pas changer les fables déja re-ceües, par exemple, il faut que Clytemneſtre ſoit tuée par Ore-ſte, & Eriphyle par Alcmcon.]
14
10.
mvp-aristotle-comment-342
11.
mvp-aristotle-comment-343
14.12
On peut repreſenter des actions qui ſe font par des gens qui agiſſent avec une entiere connoiſſance, & qui sçavent ce qu'ils font.]
16
12.
mvp-aristotle-comment-344
13.
mvp-aristotle-comment-345
14.13
On peut auſſi faire agir des gens qui ne connoiſſent pas l'atrocité de l'action qu'ils commettent, & qui après l'avoir com-miſe, viennent à reconnoitre la liaiſon & l'amitié qui étoit en-tr'eux, & ceux ſur qui ils ſe ſont vangez.]
18
14.
mvp-aristotle-comment-346
15.
mvp-aristotle-comment-347
16.
mvp-aristotle-comment-348
14.14
Enfin on peut faire qu'une personne, qui par ignorance va commettre un tres grand crime, le reconnoît avant que de l'exe-cuter.]
21
17.
mvp-aristotle-comment-349
18.
mvp-aristotle-comment-350
14.16
Qui est lorſqu'une perſonne va commettre un crime, le voulant & le ſçachant, & ne l'execute point; mais cette manière eſt la plus mauvaiſe de toutes.]
23
19.
mvp-aristotle-comment-351
14.16
Caroutre que cela est horrible & ſcelerat, il n'y a rien de tragique, parce que la fin n'a rien de touchant.]
24
20.
mvp-aristotle-comment-352
14.16
Sophocle s'en est ſervi une feule fois dans ſon Antigone, où Hæmon tire l'épée contre ſon pere Creon pour le tuer.]
25
21.
mvp-aristotle-comment-353
14.17
Dans ces occafions il vaut encore mieux que le crime s'exe-cute, comme dans la premiere maniére.]
26
22.
mvp-aristotle-comment-354
14.18
La seconde manière est encore préferable à celle-là, je veux dire, lorſque celuy qui commet le crime, le commet par ignorance & le reconnoît aprés l'avoir commis.]
27
23.
mvp-aristotle-comment-355
14.19
qu' Euripide a ſuivie dans ſon Creſphonte, où Merope reconnoît ſon fils dans le moment qu'elle va le tuer.)]
28
24.
mvp-aristotle-comment-356
14.19
Et dans fon Iphigenie, où cette Princeſſe reconnoît fon frere, lorſqu'elle en va faire un ſacrifice.]
29
25.
mvp-aristotle-comment-357
14.19
C'est ainsi que dans l'Hellé Phryxus reconnoît ſa mere ſur le point qu'il va la livrer à ſes ennemis.]
30
26.
mvp-aristotle-comment-358
14.20
La raiſon de cela est que les premiers Poëtes en cherchant des ſujets, ne les ont pas tirez de leur Art, mais de la for-tune.]
31
27.
mvp-aristotle-comment-359
14.20
Voilà pourquoy les Poëtes d'aujourd'huy font forcez d'a-voir recours à ces mêmes familles, dans lesquelles la fortune a permis que tous ces grands malheurs foient arrivez.]
32
28.
mvp-aristotle-comment-360
14.21
En voilà affez fur la Constitution, ſur la Nature, & ſur la Qualité des fables, ou des ſujets de Tragedie.]
33
101.
mvp-aristotle-comment-101
NOTE 101. P. 89.
14.4
WHO MAKE USE OF THE DECORATION TO PRODUCE, NOT THE TERRIBLE, BUT THE MARVELLOUS ONLY-.
One would think, that commentators on Aristotle might find enough in this work to satisfy the keenest appetite for difficulties, without any assistance from their own invention. Yet here, they have contrived to perplex one of the plainest passages that can be found. Nothing can well be clearer than Aristotle's expression:
—οἱ δε ΜΗ ΤΟ ΦΟΒΕΡΟΝ, δια της όψεως, άλλα ΤΟ ΤΕΡΑΤΩΔΕΣ ΜΟΝΟΝ, παρασκευαζοντες. — He is not, as some critics have supposed, examining here three different ways of raising terror, but two only; by the plot itself, which he justly pronounces to be the best way, and by the
ὄψις, the spectacle, scenes, dresses, &c. As for those Poets, he continues, who make use of the
ὄψις, for the purpose of exciting, not terror, but wonder only, they are out of the question; this "has nothing to do with Tragedy," &c. If Aristotle, by
τερατωδες, had meant only, as has been understood, a monstrous degree of the terrible "mostruoso, soprano spavento," as Castelvetro calls it, he surely would not have used so strong an expression as—
ΟΥΔΕΝ τῇ Τραγῳδίᾳ ΚΟΙΝΩΝΟΥΣΙΝ. He does not here exclude even the
τερατωδες, absolutely, and in general; but the mere
τερατωδες;
τερατωδες ΜΟΝΟΝ—"only the wonderful;" and that,
δια της όψεως. The marvellous and supernatural, may, we know, in the hands of a Poet of genius, be made a powerful instrument of Tragic terror. Aristotle would hardly, I imagine, have censured a drama like that of
Macbeth, as having "nothing in common with Tragedy".
The difficulty, indeed, of managing the visible
τερατωδες, so as to produce any serious effect, is sufficiently great. We have, I think, but one dramatic Poet who could walk, though others may have dared to walk, "within that circle". The decoration of the
Eumenides of Æschylus, and his chorus of fifty furies, with their
μυγμοι, and their
ὠγμοι, their snorings, their screams, and their torches, may very well be conceived to have put women and children in a real fright; but whether it produced any sympathetic, illusive, and pleasurable, terror—the only terror in question—I should much doubt. Yet Dacier, very gravely, produces this story of children fainting away, and women miscarrying, with the fright, as an example of Tragic terror excited by the
ὄψις. According to Dacier's account, the allegorical personage of
Λυσσα, or Madness, in the
Hercules Furens of Euripides, appears in her aerial car, "with a hundred heads, round which hiss a thousand serpents". It is rather difficult to conceive how this could have been managed. These hundred heads, in the passage of the chorus alluded to, v. 884, certainly belong to the serpents, not to
Λυσσα herself; and the emendation of Reiske seems probable; —
ἑκατογκεφαλοις ὄφεων ἰαχημασι. "centicipitibus serpentum sibilis". Even so, I can scarce imagine an Athenian audience to have received this exhibition with countenances perfectly Tragic. The arrival of old
OCEAN mounted upon his Griffin, in the
Prometheus of Æschylus, must, one would suppose, have had as ridiculous an effect, as I remember the entrance of the Minotaur to have had upon the audience, some years ago, in the opera of
Teseo.
If such a dramatic entertainment as our
Pantomime had existed in the days of Aristotle, he would probably have represented the Tragic Poets, whom he here censures, as encroaching on that province: for, indeed, the
τερατωδες μονον δια της όψεως παρασκευαζομενον, would accurately enough express the
ἡδονην οἰκειαν of the pantomime. But, what would the philosopher have said to a species of the drama, of which the
ὄψις, which he places at the very bottom of his scale [cap. vi.], is the very soul—
ἀρχη και οἷον ψυχη: and where the
σκεύοποιος, or the carpenter, takes the lead of the Poet? —To do it justice, however, it has its
Μυθος, its fable, such as it is, with its beginning, its middle, and its end; though a spectator may be often puzzled to make, as we commonly say, head or tail of its plot. It has also its
δεσεις and its
λυσεις, its
nœuds and its
denouemens, in great abundance; being, indeed, from beginning to end, a continued series of knots, tied by love, and cut by magic. Here are also
περιπετειαι and
ἀναγνωρισεις, revolutions, and discove- ries, in plenty; though the chief revolution, indeed, be in the scenery; —
ἡ εἰς το ἐναντιον των ὉΡΩΜΕΝΩΝ μεταβολη. And with respect to discoveries, the pantomime may be characterized as Aristotle characterizes the Odyssey, —
ἀναγνωρισεις γαρ διολου — "it abounds throughout with discoveries"; for the poor hero is perpetually discovered, and very seldom
εἰς φιλίαν. Then there are
Παθη too, disasters — the
πραξεις ὀδυνηραι at least, which, to the upper gallery, make the merriest part of the entertainment. An essential character, the clown, is even appropriated to this purpose of suffering, and his clothes well wadded for the reception of blows, kicks, and falls. But Aristotle little foresaw, I suppose, when he wrote his first chapter, that a species of drama without words would one day be invented: still less, probably, could he have imagined, what to the antients would have appeared the strangest part of this business, that, though accompanied throughout by
MUSIC, yet it would not imitate "by gesticulated rhythm" —
δια σχηματιζομενων ΡΥΘΜΩΝ; the gestures of the actors in pantomime, being not at all regulated by the measures of the music, or only occasionally, and accidentally, according to the ear, and inclination, of the performer.
102.
mvp-aristotle-comment-102
NOTE 102. P. 90.
14.6
MOST TERRIBLE, OR PITEOUS
After having established, that the terrible and piteous should arise from the circumstances of the action itself, Aristotle proceeds to examine what are the circumstances that will produce the highest degree of terror and pity, within the proper limits; that is, so as to avoid what he calls the
μιαρον, the shocking, and disgusting . And this, perhaps, led him here to use the words
δεινα, and
οικτρα, as being, if I mistake not, rather stronger than
φοβερα, and
ελεεινα. For the subject of this chapter seems, in short, to be, the proper management of the
Παθη or disastrous incidents:
"Comment,"
as Dacier has rightly observed,
"on doit se conduire dans les actions atroces," p. 236. Without this leading idea it would be difficult to explain satisfactorily some passages that follow.
103.
mvp-aristotle-comment-103
NOTE 103. P. 90.
14.9
BETWEEN FRIENDS. —
Εν ταις φιλιαις.—For the wide sense in which Aristotle here uses the word
φιλια, see
Ethic. Nicom. VIII. 1, and 7, ed. Ox. 1716
, and the passage quoted in
NOTE 276
.
104.
mvp-aristotle-comment-104
NOTE 104. P. 90.
14.11
BUT IT IS HIS PROVINCE TO INVENT OTHER SUBJECTS, AND TO MAKE A SKILFUL USE OF THOSE WHICH HE FINDS ALREADY ESTABLISHED. —
Αυτον δε ευρισκειν δει, και τοις παραδεδομενοις χρησθαι καλως. The expression is too short and general to be clear. It is fairly capable of not less than three different meanings.
Ευρισκειν, may mean, to invent a subject from pure imagination, as Agatho invented his
ΑΝΘΟΣ
1
: or it may mean only, to find out a new historical subject; or, lastly, to invent, not a subject, but only circumstances and incidents, by which the old subjects may be varied; which is
Dacier's idea:
"Le Poete doit inventer lui-même, en se servant comme il faut des fables receuës." I shall only say, that, on the whole, I prefer the second of these explanations. Aristotle, it is true, had allowed, that a Poet ought not to be chained down to the old traditional stories
2
; and even, that it would be ridiculous (
γελοιον) to suppose subjects of pure invention absolutely prohibited. But this is delivered as a permission, not as a precept; and he would hardly have enforced a permission by such an expression as he here uses—
ευρισκειν $\Delta$EI$. Again—
αυτον ΕΥΡΙΣΚΕΙΝ, (against Dacier's explanation,) seems plainly opposed to
τοις παραδεδομενοις ΧΡΗΣΘΑI—"to use old subjects properly, and to invent or find out new subjects: not new incidents for an old subject". This may, perhaps, receive some illustration and support from a similar passage in the Rhetoric. In the second chapter of the first book, he divides the proofs of the orator into two kinds—the
ατεχνοι, and the
εντεχνοι. The
ατεχνοι are the external proofs; witnesses, the torture, writings, and all such proofs as are ready provided to the pleader's hand—
οσα μη δι ημων πεπορισται, αλλα προυπηρχεν. The
εντεχνοι he defines to be those argumentative proofs which depend on the art and invention of the orator himself. He then concludes—
ωστε δει τουτων, τοις μεν ΧΡΗΣΑΣΘΑΙ, τα δε ΕΥΡΕΙΝ: — "of these proofs, the first sort we have only to make a proper use of; the other we must invent".
105.
mvp-aristotle-comment-105
NOTE 105. P. 91.
14.15
BUT OF ALL THESE WAYS, &C.
All this is not a little
embrouillé. Aristotle describes three ways only. Then he says, or seems to say,—"There is no other way:" —
παρα ταυτα ουκ εστιν αλλως. And to prove this, he enumerates all the ways possible; which, at last, turn out to be four. Hence the text has been supposed defective. Perhaps there is no occasion to suppose this. That, at least, there is no accidental omission of a fourth case, (that of purposing without executing,) seems pretty clear from the expression,
ΕΤΙ δε τριτον παρα ταυτα: "there is still a third way beside these". It would have been rather strange, if, immediately after this, he had proceeded to mention a fourth way.—Taking then the passage as perfect, we must understand, I think, by
ουκ ΕΣΤΙΝ αλλως, not—there is no other way possible—but, there is no other
proper, admissible way:
non licet aliter—it must not be done in any other way. For, he proceeds, there are but four ways possible; but of all these, (
τουτων δε—i. e. these four possible ways,) that of being "ready to execute, knowingly, and yet not executing," is the worst, and not to be enumerated by a critic among those ways which a Poet may be allowed to use. Thus Dacier appears to have understood the passage, by his translation, which, I think, is right, as to the sense. But I thought Aristotle's meaning might be clearly enough expressed without periphrasis, or supplement.
106.
mvp-aristotle-comment-106
NOTE 106. P. 92.
14.19
BUT THE BEST OF ALL THESE WAYS IS THE LAST.
In the 13th chapter (Transl. Sect. 12.) Aristotle had pronounced that to be the best constituted Tragedy, which terminates unhappily; and had represented that species, which gratifies, by its catastrophe, the sympathetic wishes of the audience, as inferior, and affording a kind of pleasure rather appropriated to Comedy. Yet here, he appears to give the preference to a plan calculated to afford that very pleasure in the highest degree. This seeming inconsistence has given the commentators much trouble. It is rather surprising, that Dacier should have perceived what had escaped the superior acuteness of the Italian annotators, viz. that Aristotle is not, in this chapter, inquiring what is the best constitution of a Tragic fable in general, but, what is the best method of managing the most disastrous and atrocious incidents of Tragic story, so as to produce the highest possible degree of Tragical emotion in the spectator, without producing horror and disgust.
With this view of the subject, the reader, perhaps, will not see much difficulty in reconciling Aristotle to himself. He might surely say, without inconsistence, "Tragedy, to be perfect, should terminate unhappily. Yet there may be particular exceptions to this general rule. The end of Tragedy is, to excite terror and pity; and that end is most effectually answered, when those emotions are not only excited in the course of the drama, (as they undoubt- edly may be, and to a high degree, even in such pieces as end fortunately,) but are left impressed upon the mind of the spectator by the catastrophe itself. Yet this Tragic terror is not to be pushed to absolute horror, nor the
τραγικον to be confounded with the
μιαρον: and I allow, that where the circumstances of the traditional story, from which the Poet takes his plot, are such, as leave him only the alternative, either of disgusting and shocking the spectator, or of gratifying his wishes, the latter is clearly to be preferred; and the
διπλη συστασις, the double fable, to which I assigned only the second place
3
, will, in that particular case, deserve the first".
Nothing seems more just, or more accurately expressed, than Aristotle's idea of the end of Tragedy; that it is, "to give that pleasure which arises from pity and terror through imitation:" —
την απο ελεου και φοβου δια μιμησεως ηδονην παρασκευαζειν
cap. xiv. (Transl. P. II. Sect. 13.)
. But the Greek Tragedians will be thought, I believe, by most modern readers, to have sometimes pushed this principle rather too far, and to have excited a degree of horror, which even the charms of imitation cannot well be conceived to have softened into pleasurable emotion; and it appears to me, that Aristotle himself inclined to this opinion, and that he intended this chapter as a lesson of caution to the Poets against this excess. He seems plainly to have considered the actual murder of a mother, a son, a brother, and the like, as incidents rather too horrible to be exhibited in any way. If the deed must be done, let it, he says, if possible—if the story will permit it—be done ignorantly. But it will be still better, if you can avoid doing it, entirely; if you can contrive to make the expectation, combined with the atrociousness of the event expected, answer your purpose, by raising as much anxiety, commiseration, and terror in the spectator, as may consist with that pleasure which is the end of Tragedy, and then relieving him at last, by prevention at the very moment of execution.
That Aristotle thought the end of Tragedy might be sufficiently answered by the mere expectation of such events, properly managed, appears from his expression above:—
ει αδελφος αδελφον, η παις πατερα, η μητηρ υιον, η μητερα, αποκτανῃ, Η ΜΕΛΛΗι ταυτα δρᾳν— "When a brother kills, or is going to kill," &c.. For this purpose, not only the expectation must be such, that the action shall appear imminent and inevitable, but the action itself expected must be such, as, had it taken place, would have been dreadful, "intolerable," &c. —
τι των ΑΝΗΚΕΣΤΩΝ
4
, as Aristotle expresses himself in describing these prevented
παθη. By these means, the emotion of terror is brought as near as possible to that which would arise from the actual perpetration
5
.
If the purport of this chapter has been here rightly explained, the reader will see how Aristotle has been misrepresented by many modern critics, who have understood him to recommend the
Cresphontes of Euripides as a model of the best possible construction of a Tragic fable in general. Thus
Maffei, in the dedication of his Merope:
"Parla di essa Aristotele nella Poetica, dove trattando de' modi di ben comporre la favola, da per esempio dell' ottimo il Cresfonte d'Euripide, in cui l'atrocità veniva dalla ricognizione impedita." And
Voltaire, in his letter to Maffei:
"Aristote, dans sa Poetique immortelle, ne balance pas à dire, que la reconnoissance de Merope et de son fils, etoit le moment le plus interessant de toute la scene Grecque. Il donnoit à ce coup de Theatre la preference sur tous les autres."
107.
mvp-aristotle-comment-107
NOTE 107. P. 92.
14.19
MEROPE, &C.
Plutarch's account of the effect of this
coup de Theatre upon the audience, is worth transcribing, though apparently incorrect.
Σκοπει δε την εν τῃ Τραγῳδιᾳ ΜΕΡΟΠΗΝ, επι τον υιον αυτον, ως φονεα του υιου, πελεκυν αραμενην, και λεγουσαν—Ὅσιωτεραν δη τηνδ᾿ εγω διδωμι σοι Πληγην—οσον εν τῳ θεατρῳ κινημα ποιει, συνεξορθιαζουσα φοβῳ και δεει μη φθασῃ τον επιλαμβανομενον γεροντα, και τρωσῃ το μειρακιον. [
Περι Σαρκοφ. p. 1837, ed. H. St.
] For other fragments of this Tragedy, the reader may see the Ox. Euripides.
14.1.
mvp-aristotle-comment-46
14.3
THOSE WHO PRODUCE WHAT IS MONSTROUS INSTEAD OF WHAT IS TERRIBLE, BY THE REPRESENTATION, HAVE NONE OF THE PROPERTIES OF TRAGEDY.
THE word used by Aristotle here (τεραζώδες) I conceive to apply in this cafe to any thing wonderful and supernatural, or as Metastasio renders it, ' il monftruoso ed il portentoso.' (A) The critic has first mentioned two modes of producing pity and terror; by the apparatus of the theatre, and by the construction of the fable. Yet he not only gives the decided preference to the last, but he even goes so far as to say it is in fact the only mode that can fairly be esteemed the work of the poet, as being capable of producing the proper end of tragedy without the assistance of theatrical representation; while that which depends on the apparatus is almost independent of the poet, and depends chiefly for its effect on the [B) person who furnishes and arranges the decoration of the spectacle. [A] See Mr. Twining's note on this passage, note ci, in which there is much judicious criticifm. [B] The Choragus which I have rendered manager of the theatre' to make it more obvious to the English reader, was the person who furnished the chorus, the actors, the dresses, &c. at his own expence. This mode of bribing the poorer citizens by the rich, was as popular at Athens as feasting them is in Britain. The fame method was followed by the Roman demagogues towards the close of the republic, though generally by the means of a more barbarous
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. spectacle. But he now proceeds to shew, that the very small share the poet could claim of this effect is entirely lost, when the monstrous is exhibited, merely as such, and unconnected with the terrible, since the trifling powers he does possess in this method of exciting the paffions, viz. the pointing out to the perfon who regulates the apparatus, the objects on which he is to exercise his art, are applied to a purpose not at all connected with the proposed end of tragic imitation [c]. What was the power of the ancient theatrical apparatus to produce terror, we can only learn from history. We are told indeed, though perhaps from no very good authority, that in the Eumenides of Æschylus so many furies in horrid forms were brought on the stage, that children were thrown into fits, and pregnant women miscarried. Whatever may be the authority from which we receive this anecdote, it seems by no means improbable. We know the effect that scenes of this kind have over weak minds at the present hour. No one has I believe ever cenfured the behaviour of Partridge at the theatre, as contrary to nature; and a person who will really feel themselves ill by the supposed influence of animal magnetism, may certainly be strongly affected by theatrical horror. We may also allow, that the decoration of the Athenian stage with its masks and its buskins, was as superior to our own in representing these wonderful and supernatural appearances, as I must think it was inferior in imitating the truth and nature of real life. ! ! barous exhibition than the drama; this being afterwards adopted by the emperors on a larger and more expensive scale, had no small share in reconciling the people to the lofs of their influence in the administration of the government.
[c] The reader who wishes to fee an application of this to the modern pantomime, and a very humourous examination of that species of the drama by the rules of Aristotle, is referred to Mr. Twining, note cr. Nn The
The preternatural beings of Shakespear have been praised so often and by so many critics who stand high in the literary world, that it might feem superfluous to say any thing on the subject, did I not confider it as the duty of a writer, profeffing to illustrate the Poetic of Aristotle by modern examples, not to pass over the poet whose excellence in this respect is unrivalled, and is of a different cast from any thing of the kind in the Grecian drama, and that in a circumstance which I do not recollect to have ever seen noticed.
In the production of fupernatural beings by the Greek tragedians, both from the pieces themselves and the judgement of Aristotle, it appears the terror was produced chiefly, if not entirely by the apparatus. We find none of that solemn language which we at once feel, [D] though we hardly know why to be so strictly characteristic of the shadowy speaker. This is so independent of, and so superior to the art of the Choragus, that no theatrical decoration is capable of heightening its effect. What representation can give us such ideas of the ghost of Hamlet as we received from the terrible and pathetic dialogue between that aweful phantom and his fon. Perhaps the effect is stronger in the closet than on the stage. This is certainly the cafe with Macbeth. The witches with their high-crowned hats and broomsticks, might be objects of terror, in the reign of a monarch who wrote a treatise on their art, against which sanguinary laws were not only in existence but put into frequent and severe execution; but to us they are merely objects of ridicule, as having no hold either on our belief, or the faintest traces of [D] The cause of this is examined and investigated as far as it is capable of investigation, by the author of the Effay on the dramatic Character of Falstaff, page 71. our
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. our recollection of fuch belief; and we are at full leisure to laugh at the grotesque figures of the mafculine and bearded women. The Bishop of Worcester in his Letters on Chivalry, mentions the superior horror of the gothic to the ancient superstition, and how much more we are affected by the ghosts and witches of Shakespear, than by the Lemures of antiquity. The fact as to the ghosts, at least with regard to ourselves is indisputable, and I think the reason of it is sufficiently obvious. The fictions of ancient mythology are only matters of amusement to us; but the gothic superstitions have, to most of us, been at one part of our lives the objects of our belief and our terror. For parental care has seldom been able entirely to guard our infancy from the impressions of the nursery. M. Leffing, in his criticism on the Semiramis of Voltaire, introduces so just a comparison between the machinery of Shakespear and Voltaire, that I shall make no apology for inserting it though it is of some length. • Is it never permitted now to admit a ghost on the scene? Is this • source of the terrible, of the pitiable entirely exhausted? By no means; ' that would be too great a loss to the poetic art. Cannot we produce ، many instances where genius confounds all our philosophy by rendering things terrible to the imagination, which to the cool reason would appear perfectly ridiculous? We must reason differently then; perhaps the first principle we argue from is not well-four.ded. "We “ believe no longer in apparitions." Who has faid this? Or rather, • what does it mean when it is said? Does it fignify that we are so far ⚫ enlightened as to be able to demonstrate their impossibility? Are those • incontestable truths which contradict the idea of such prodigies so universally spread, are they always so much in the minds of the people, Nn 2 ' that
، ' that every thing that is repugnant to them must necessarily appear ridiculous and absurd? That can never be the sense of the phrafe. "We believe no longer in apparitions," then can only mean this. On a fubject on which different opinions may be supported, and which never has been and never can be decided, the prevailing opinion of the ، day occasions the balance to preponderate on the negative side : many • individuals are convinced that there are no apparitions, a great many ⚫ more pretend to be convinced, and these harangue on the subject and give and support the fashionable doctrine. But the multitude are filent, they are indifferent on the subject, they sometimes take one fide ⚫ and sometimes the other, they laugh at ghosts in broad day-light, and • liften with trembling avidity at night to the terrible stories that are < told of them [E]. • The disbelief of spectres in this sense neither can nor ought to prevent the use of them in dramatic poetry. We have all in us at least • the feeds of this belief, and they will be found most in the minds of • the people for whom the [F] poet principally composes. It depends ⚫ on his art to make them vegetate, and on his address, in the rapidity of • the moment to give force to the arguments in favor of the reality of ⚫ these phantoms. If he succeeds, we may be at liberty in common • life to believe as we please, but at the theatre he will be the arbiter of our faith.
[E] I am too well convinced of the accuracy of M. Lessing's knowledge of human nature to doubt the truth of this account of German credulity. It would have better suited this country half a century ago than at present. But, even now, there are more people who will feel the truth of it than will own it, even in England.. [F] Especially the dramatic poet. It is faid of Moliere that he used to read all his comedies to an old female servant, and generally found her decisions confirmed by the public. Shakespear
• Shakespear knew this art, and he is almost the only one who ever • did know it. At the appearance of His ghost, in Hamlet, the hair • stands an end, whether it covers the brain of incredulity or supersti- ⚫tion. M. Voltaire was much in the wrong to appeal to this ghost, • which makes both him and his apparition of Ninus ridiculous. The ghoft of Shakespear really comes from the other world, at least it appears so to our feelings : for it arrives in the solemn hour, in the dead • filence of midnight, accompanied by all those gloomy and mysterious ، accessory ideas with which our nurses have taught us to expect the appearance of spectres; while that of Voltaire's is not fit even to terrify a child. It is merely an actor who neither says or does any thing to perfuade us he is what he pretends to be: on the contrary, all the 'circumstances with which it appears, destroy the illusion and betray the • hand of a cold poet who wishes indeed to deceive and terrify us, but • does not know how to go about it. It is in the middle of the day [G], ،
' in the middle of an assembly of the states of the empire, and preceded by a peal of thunder, that the spirit of Ninus makes its appearance from ⚫ the tomb. From whence did Voltaire learn that apparitions were fo • bold? What old woman could not have told him that apparitions were afraid of the light of the fun, and were not fond of visiting large [G] Shakespear knew the confequence of adapting his scenery to his action, in exciting terror by natural as well as supernatural agents. • The sun is in the heaven; and the proud day, • Attended with the pleasures of the world, • Is all too wanton and too full of gawds To give me audience :- if the midnight bell • Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, • Sound one unto the drowzy race of night: If this same were a church-yard where we stand.'- K. JOHN. • affemblies?
'assemblies? Voltaire was undoubtedly acquainted with all this; but ⚫ he was too cautious, too delicate, to make use of such trifling cir- 'cumstances. He was desirous indeed of shewing us a ghost, but he ، was determined it should be one of French extraction, decent, and ' noble. This decency spoiled the whole. A spectre, who takes liber- 'ties contrary to all custom, law, and established order of ghosts, does not seem to me a genuine spectre; and in this case, every thing that does not strengthen the illusion tends to destroy it. 红 • If Voltaire had examined with care, he would have felt the inconveniency, which on another account must attend the bringing a phantom before so many people. On its appearance, all the persons of the assembly (that is to say, all the actors who were representing the ' council of the queen and the states) ought to shew in their counte- ، nances all the terror that the situation required; each ought even to shew it differently from the rest to avoid the cold uniformity of a ballet. How could such a troop of stupid assistants be trained to this exercise? • And when it had fucceeded as well as possible, would not this variety ⚫ of expression of the same sentiment have divided the attention of the spectators, and necessarily have drawn it from the principal characters ? That these may make a strong impression on us, it is not only necessary • that we should fee them, but it is also proper that we should fee nothing else. • In Shakespear, it is only with Hamlet that the ghost converses. In • the scene where the mother is present, the spectre is neither seen or ⚫ heard by her. All our attention then is fixed on him alone; and the ، more we discover in him the signs of a foul distracted by terror and • surprize, the more cause we have to think the apparition which occa- • fions
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. • fions such agitations, as real as he seems to believe it. The [H] ghost ، operates more on us through him, than itself. The impreffion that it • makes on him passes into our minds, and the effect is too sensible and ⚫ too strong for us to doubt of an extraordinary cause. Of this secret, • Voltaire knew little. It is precisely because his spectre tries to ' terrify many people, that it produces little terror in any one. Semi- ⚫ ramis cries out once only, " O, heaven, I die!" and the other assist- ⚫ ants are very little more affected by the shade of Ninus, than they ' would be by the unexpected appearance of a friend, whom they be- ' lieved to be at a distance. • I observe also another difference between the French and English • spectre. The first is only a poetical machine solely employed to [1] • unravel the plot; we take no interest in him. On the contrary, the Not that it was [H] Fielding makes Partridge account for his fear in the fame manner. • the ghost that surprized me neither: for I should have known that to have been only a man • in a strange dress: but when I saw the little man so frightened himself it was that which took < hold of me.' TOM JONES, Book xvr. Chap. v. [1] This intention however is expressly disavowed by Voltaire; and what is rather surprizing, in a paragraph in which he quotes, with approbation, the celebrated rule of Horace, • Nec deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus.' • I would have (he fays) these bold attempts never employed, except when they serve at the ' same time to add to the intrigue and the terror of the piece; and I would wish by all means ⚫ that the intervention of these supernatural beings should not appear absolutely necessary. I • will explain myself: if the plot of a tragic poem is so involved in difficulty, that the poet can • only free himself from the embarrassment by the aid of a prodigy, the spectator will perceive • the distress of the author and the weakness of the resource.' DISSERTATION ON TRAGEDY PREFIXED TO SEMIRAMIS. • other
، ، ⚫ other is really an efficient person of the drama, in whose fate we are interested; he excites not only terror, but compaffion also. ، This has probably arisen from the different manner in which these two authors have confidered the general notion of apparitions. Voltaire has regarded the appearance of a dead person as a miracle, and Shakespear as a natural event. Which of the two thought most as a philosopher is a question that we have nothing at all to do with; but the Englishman thought most as a poet.' DRAMATURGIE, Part I. page 39, et seq. ، After all, though there is great truth in much that is here advanced, I do not think an English audience would now endure a ghost from a modern hand, however well executed. That we have still belief in apparitions sufficient for dramatic effect, is obvious from the reception of Shakespear's Ghosts. But we require that the poet should have rather a stronger credulity. This is illustrated by the comparison between the faith of Shakespear and Voltaire in the concluding paragraph of the quotation. Every modern poet must be in the predicament of the 1atter. There is very nearly the fame distinction between the machinery of Homer [K] and Virgil. An instance perhaps of the marvellous pushed too far, may be drawn from Dryden's Edipus. I have read fomewhere, that on the revival of that tragedy, the audience were disgusted with the variety of prodigies, and the ghost of Laius with his numerous attendants. Brumoy, (Vol. I. page 393) speaking of Seneca's Edipus, fays, Creon makes a more [K] See note I, chap. xxiv. ' than
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. ⚫ than infernal description of the prodigies he had feen.' And Dryden in the preface to his tragedy, prides himself for bringing that before the audience which Seneca had only described. Perhaps he chose here to enter the lifts with Shakespear. It would have been more conducive to his reputation, if he had recollected his own words in the prologue to his Tempest, where he tried to imitate and add to the machinery of a play, which was in every respect inimitable. • But Shakespear's magic could not copied be; • Within that circle none durst walk but he.' We have lately seen an attempt of the fame kind by a person of the highest eminence in a fister art, whose recent loss is justly an object of national concern. I mean the fiend at the head of the dying Cardinal in the celebrated picture of Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the Shakespear gallery.
14.2.
mvp-aristotle-comment-47
14.10
IT NOT BEING ALLOWABLE TO ALTER ESSENTIALLY STORIES THAT HAVE BEEN GENERALLY RECEIVED, BUT, FOR EXAMPLE, CLYTEMNESTRA MUST BE KILLED BY ORESTES, AND ERIPHYLE BY ALCMEON; IT IS THE DUTY OF THE POET TO FIND OUT SUCH TRADITIONAL STORIES, AND EMPLOY THEM SKILFULLY.
TO explain clearly my notion of the spirit of this precept, it will be necessary to give some degree of paraphrafe. The critic has decided on what incidents, and between what persons, the force of the passions of pity and terror should be founded. But he then adds, that it not being allowable
allowable for the poet to alter the essential circumstances of known stories, he ought to feek out for such historical events as furnish those tragical incidents; and having found them, to employ and arrange the circumstances in such a manner, as to give them the greatest force on the feelings of the audience. There are three opinions on the meaning of the phrafe in the original, Αυθὸν δὲ ἑυρίσκειν δεῖ. καὶ τοις παραδεδομένοις χρῆσθαι καλῶς. The most general is, that it directs the poet to invent new fables himself, like the [L] Anthos of Agathon, and arrange the circumstances of traditional stories properly; another is, that the poet should find out new historical subjects; and the third, that he should find out new stories, making a proper use of fables already received, which is that adopted by Dacier, but seems to me wrong as to the last part of the fentence. In my former edition I had followed the first interpretation. But the [M] arguments of Mr. Twining, to which I refer the critical reader, are so convincing in favor of the second, though he has admitted the first into the text of his tranflation, that I have followed him without hefitation. This argument seems confirmed also by what Aristotle says in the last chapter, and repeats again in this, of the scarcity of proper dramatic fubjects. On which account, it may justly be confidered as the duty of the poet to feek diligently for fables which afford fuch incidents.. I cannot however agree with Mr. Twining, in thinking that ἑυρίσκειν is obviously opposed to τοις παραδεδομένοις χρῆσθαι. If that were the cafe, I should be still inclined to adhere to the first tranflation.; but I think it [L] See chap. Ix.. [M] See his note civ.. cannot.
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. cannot be justified without altering the conjunction καὶ, which, taking in the sense of the whole passage, seems to connect and not diftinguish the [N] finding of the fable, and the employment of its circumstances when found. Among all the editors and commentators who have written on Shakefpear's Hamlet, and who have traced its fource in an old novel, founded on an event recorded by Saxo Grammaticus, I am furprized that no one has noticed the striking resemblance between Hamlet and Orestes. But though this has not been remarked by his countrymen, it has not escaped the observation of a French critic. It appears from a letter of the Abbé Le Blanc, to the French dramatic poet Crebillon [o], that the Abbé Prevot has written a comparison between the tragedies of Electra and Hamlet, in which he commends the English poet because wiser than Sophocles, he forbids young Hamlet, by the apparition of the ghost, to attempt any thing against his mother's life.' And Le Blanc himself was so much struck with the resemblance as to say, he is 'inclined to ⚫ think the likeness between the tragedy of Hamlet, and the Greek one • of Electra, is not the mere effect of chance, but that we may eafily • discover the perfon of Oreftes in Hamlet, which Shakespear has ac- [N] The English translators of Aristotle and other Greek writers, have frequently been drawn into error by the Latin word for ἑυρίσκω. INVENIO. of which the English word, IN- VENT, though its derivative, is by no means the proper tranflation. Ποιέω signifies to invent in the sense which is here supposed, and is universally used for it in this work, and its proper Latin translation is FINGO. But though Ariftotle's precepts here, as well as the examples with which he illuftrates them are drawn from received fables, they apply equally to those which are the pure invention of the poet. [o] See Letters on the English and French Nations, Let. LIX. commodated
• commodated to his own manner of writing.' There certainly are more circumstances of co-incidence between the stories of Hamlet and Orestes, than can well be refolved into accident. As the monarch being killed by a brother in one, a coufin german in the other, who possesses his wife and ufurps his throne; the fon robbed of his right, his life treacheroufly attempted, and himself urged to vengeance by supernatural means; the friendship of Hamlet for Horatio, and Orestes for Pylades, both of whom by the way are cyphers in the action, and even the madness of Hamlet when joined with the other circumstances. And here I must remark, that the advantage of Shakespear over Sophocles, allowed by the French critic, arofe from the former not being fettered by this precept of Aristotle; and being at liberty to free his chief character from the horrid crime of matricide, without altering an essential incident of a well-known history.
14.3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-48
14.11
I WILL EXPLAIN MORE CLEARLY WHAT I MEAN BY SKILFULLY.
THOUGH Aristotle is here laying down rules for giving the best arrangement to those leading circumstances in received or traditional stories, which the poet is not allowed to alter, it is obfervable, that of all the examples he gives, the story of Alcmæon and Eriphyle is the only one in which the manner of the event, as well as the event itself, is not according to received opinion. Medea is always supposed to destroy her children knowingly, and the incest and parricide of Edipus to be involuntary, and so of the reft.. NOTE
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. !
14.4.
mvp-aristotle-comment-49
14.15
AND THERE IS NO OTHER METHOD EXCEPT THESE, FOR A PER- SON MUST EITHER ACT, OR NOT ACT, AND MUST EITHER KNOW, OR BE IGNORANT OF, THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE ACTION.
OF these methods, according to the opinion of Aristotle, at least as delivered in this chapter, the following is the order in point of merit, beginning according to his usual custom with the lowest degree. First, for the character to meditate some atrocious crime, perfectly acquainted with its consequence and the relation which the object of it bears to him, and to desist from the perpetration of it from a change of sentiment. The example Aristotle brings of this is the intention of Hæmon to kill his father in the Antigone of Sophocles... The Love Triumphant of Dryden furnishes a modern instance. The catastrophe of As You Like It, depends on the ufurper changing his purpose.. Secondly, for a character in the same predicament to execute the purpose. Medea is the example of Aristotle. We may produce Othello and Macbeth. Thirdly, for a character to perform some terrible action ignorant of the consequence, and the relation of the object, and to make the discovery afterwards; of this Edipus and the Orphan are examples. Fourthly,
Fourthly, for a character, in the fame circumstance with the last, to discover the consequence and the relation before the purpose is executed. Of this Merope will ferve both for an ancient and modern example. Dryden's Conquest of Granada furnishes another. Discovery of persons is not so often the hinge on which the modern drama turns, as discovery of innocence or other circumstances. In which cafe the first and last species will be often blended. (P) Othello will be removed from the second to the third class, which will also comprehend Zara [2]. Having stated these different forms, it remains to examine how far Aristotle appears right as to the respective rank in which he classes them according to their comparative excellence, and particularly to enquire how far he is justified in the fevere sentence he passes on the first; and how the preference he appears to give the last can be reconciled with the opinion he delivers as to tragedy, in the preceding chapter. In doing this, I shall endeavour as much as I am able, to keep the observations on the respective forms separate. Though from the neceffity of comparing them with each other, it will be impoffible sometimes to avoid blending them. In regard to the first arrangement; its only difference from the second arifes from the want of the pathos, the actual suffering of fome person, [P] For want of a circumstance of this fort the fable of Medea is infinitely more shocking, and less interesting than that of Othello. The discovery of Iago's villainy, and Desdemona's innocence, are affecting in the highest degree. [Q] When the first and second species have no discovery whatever, they will of course remain as classed by Ariftotle. which
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. which Aristotle thinks so necessary for tragedy; and the decision of Aristotle in this place, makes his preference of such tragedies as Merope still more wonderful; since this mode has exactly the same difference from the second that the fourth has from the third; for the improbability of the change of fentiment, on which something might be faid, is not what Ariftotle censures, but the want of (R) effect, because no perfon fuffers. In the tragedy of Macbeth, the first and second modes are mixed. Macbeth and his wife are both acquainted with their relation to Duncan,, by the joint ties of blood, of gratitude, of allegiance, and of hofpitality. The former executes the act, while Lady Macbeth on the point of doing it defifts, because as she says, he ' resembled her father as he fslept.' This stroke has been frequently admired, as marking the natural tenderness and sympathy of the female fex in action, even when capable of urging another to the most atrocious deeds of cruelty. [s] Metastasio approves this first arrangement as giving the strongest powers of marking and concluding the struggle between the various contending suggestions of love, of reason, of manners, and of despair, by an act of fuicide; and he draws his example from the same source with Aristotle, the Antigone of Sophocles. If Hæmon, worked up to the highest degree of frenzy, by the struggle between conjugal love and [R] Ου τραγικὸν, απαθὲς γὰρ.. [s] ESTRATTO DELLA POETICA, page 272. The reader who wishes to compare this with Metastasio, will observe, that he enumerates the forms according to their merit, while I have followed the order of Aristotle. parental
parental cruelty, on the point (T) of plunging his sword into the bosom of his father, had turned it against his own; he observes, and justly, that in such an arrangement the paffions of pity and terror would be strongly excited, and the indispensable (u) Ariftotelian pathos, the perturbation arifing from the fight of wounds, and death, still preserved. But this production of pity and terror, arifing from a struggle between remorse and paffion as to the commiffion of an atrocious crime, and terminating in the resolution of committing it, whether fuch resolution is actually carried into execution or not, is branded by Aristotle with the epithet of [x] disgustful. Corneille is of a different opinion from Ariftotle as to this. He allows indeed the theatrical effect which attends the discovery incident to the third and fourth modes, and especially the fourth, to be particularly striking; and that the incident in Merope (of which I shall speak more at large presently) is the most affecting that can be imagined. But he adds, all this beauty is confined to the single moment of the discovery; ' that is to fay, the end of the drama (v); throughout the whole course ' of which the principal character remains in the same situation of [T] I do not recollect such an incident in any regular modern drama; but there is something like it in an anomalous dramatic poem of Lord Lansdowne's, called the British Enchanters, where Conftantius in despair, catches his favored rival by the throat, and is on the point of stabbing him, till recollecting the distress it will bring on his mistress, he exclaims, • But for Oriana's fake 'tis better here,' and instantly kills himself. [U] 'Patos Ariftotelico." [*] μιαρόν. [x] Which by the way is not the cafe in the modern tragedies of Merope. • wishing
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. • wishing to kill a person neither connected by friendship or confanguinity. A fituation not tragical, according to Ariftotle himself. From • whence the poet can find no opportunity of agitating the paffions. But on the contrary in the other cafe, (that of Medea) where an atrocious • deed is knowingly purposed and executed; the continual agitation of ⚫ the principal character always fluctuating between love and rage, be- ، tween the defire of vengeance and the horror of the deed, will not be • confined to the catastrophe but will pervade the whole tragedy. Since • the causes which lead by degrees to the conception of so horrid a design, the repugnancy of natural affection, the passions of rage and * tenderness that must alternately prevail, will furnish the poet with ample materials for shewing his principal character in situations always new, always violent, and always perplexing, till the last impulfe that • finally fixes his resolution.' It is impoffible to avoid feeing the truth and justice of these remarks. Why then should Aristotle call this arrangement disgustful? Perhaps we may trace the cause in the nature of the ancient theatre, which, rather calculated to represent [z] action than paffion, was ill qualified for the exhibition of this struggle between those contending sensations, which could not, in cases of extreme guilt especially, be opened at large in the prefence of a chorus [A], and therefore the criminal intent appears to the audience in all its horrors, without any alleviating circumstance. [z] See Note VII, Chap. XIII. [A] In the Medea of Euripides, the chorus argue strongly with her on her unnatural defign. The struggle in her own bosom is drawn in much fainter colors; and her fixed resolution in fo horrid a design is well calculated to excite the disgust mentioned by Ariftotle. Pp In
In this point, that is in the continuation of the interest arifing from contending and contradictory passions, the first and second modes exactly agree. It remains to examine the catastrophe in which they differ. The prevention of the perpetration of a horrid crime by suicide, as proposed by Metaftafio [B], would certainly have a good theatrical effect, but it does not exactly come under the censure that Ariftotle gives to the catastrophe occafioned by the change of mind only, without any positive action, and therefore is not an answer to it. When in the course of the struggle, reason alone preponderates againft paffion, and the character desists from acting, merely from reflection, the conflict will either not appear to be carried to the highest pitch, or the change of purpose will seem to want a fufficient cause [c]; for if it happens from any extraneous cause whatever, apparently adequate to work such a change, it will have all the effect of a discovery, and the species will be changed from the first to the fourth. [B] Racine has managed this matter in a very extraordinary mode in his tragedy of the Thebaide. Creon and his fon are rivals for the affections of Antigone. Hæmon is killed in trying to feparate Eteocles and Polynices, who, as is well known, fell each by the other's fword in fingle combat; and Creon finding his rivals, both in love and ambition, removed by the death of his fon and his kinsmen, offers his hand and his throne to Antigone, who chose rather to facrifice her life to the memory of her lover and her brothers. On which Creon, after having called on heaven to deftroy him with a thunder bolt, faints away in the arms of his guards; reminding us a little of Kitty's speech in THE WHAT D'YE CALL IT. • Lead me to bed and there I'll moan and weep, < And close these weary eyes in death or fleep.' [c] It must be acknowledged that the story of Coriolanus, which is certainly a very good one for a tragedy, depends on a change of resolution; and the fame may be faid of Dryden's Love Triumphant, on the catastrophe of which he prided himself, and which is really a good But in both these cases, the change of resolution is occafioned by conclusive reasoning and earnest resolution: the combat is violent, and the victory gradual. one. • A French
A French poet, M. de Longe Pierre, has chosen to give this arrangement to the story of Medea, whom he has represented on the • very point of murdering her infants; but at the instant she is going to facrifice them to her vengeance, her tenderness revives, the dagger • falls from her hands, she is not able to perpetrate the crime she • had meditated, which occafioned a surprise as lively as it was unexpected.' I have quoted this from the work of an anonymous French writer, entitled PRINCIPES POUR LA LECTURE DES POETES. If the French poet has taken this liberty with the fable of Medea, and transferred it from the second species to the first, an eminent writer of our own has chosen to give the fable of Edipus, or at least the most disgusting, if not the most tragic part of it, with heightened circumstances and another name, the form of an intentional perpetration. I mean the printed, though unpublished tragedy, of the MYSTERIOUS MOTHER. If as Ariftotle, and after him Horace affert, the poet to affect others must put himself into the situation of his character, one would wonder how such a work could be [D] the production of the elegant and humane author to whom it is ascribed. I cannot however here avoid the mention of one of the finest possible dramatic effects that it contains; which though a natural event, has all the force and the appearance of a ma- [D] One of the reasons given by Plato in his Republic, 1. III. for banishing the poets from his commonwealth is, because from putting themselves often in the situations of vicious men, whose sentiments they want to express, they will in time be apt to acquire those manners which they are so often in the habit of imitating. I believe this observation is more ingenious than true. Nothing is more common than to see the poetical and natural character of the fame person perfectly at variance with each other. The gloomy genius of Young's muse was not confined to his Night Thoughts, it is strongly to be traced through all his tragedies; and yet he is faid to have been a very chearful man, and to have actually been the first to fet on foot an affembly at Welwyn, in Hertfordshire, where he resided.
Pp2 chine.
chine. I mean when the priest is opening to his colleague his horrid scheme, and his determination to perfift in it, the fudden interruption by a voice from within crying, Forbear!' which strikes even such a character with horror, till the repetition of it shews both him and the spectators, that it is only the first word of a choral hymn, sung behind the scenes. As the first and fecond modes are exactly alike in the course of the fable, fo are the third and fourth, and only diftinguished by the cataftrophe. The principal observations therefore as to the comparative merit of these forms must relate to the catastrophe, which will neceffa-- rily involve in them those circumstances in which they agree. The first thing that strikes us here is the seeming contradiction in the opinion of the critic, who apparently gives the preference, and that in a very strong expreffion, to that catastrophe which feems only to differ from the other in terminating in happiness instead of distress. His opinion on that point has not only been decidedly given in the preceding chapter, but even in this; for he does not blame the catastrophe in the first form because it is brought about by improbable means, but because. it is not tragical.. Many have been the labors of critics, and translators, to clear up this point, and reconcile the opposite doctrines. But I own I think none of them fatisfactory. Some of these I shall state which appear the most plausible, at the fame time mentioning my own objections to them. But while I confefs this general dissatisfaction, as to all that the searches of others, or my own reason can suggest on this subject, my opinion is inclined to that of M. Leffing, though. I do not entirely subscribe to his
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. his solution of the difficulty. That ingenious and candid critic, after mentioning a fellow-countryman, Mr. Curtius, who declares it to be his idea that Ariftotle has not treated this article with his usual exactness, proceeds thus: ' I own this does not appear probable to me. A • writer like Aristotle is scarcely liable to fuch flagrant contradiction; • when therefore I find the appearance of it in the works of such a man, • I distrust my own judgment rather than his. I redouble my attention; • I read the passage ten times; and I am not able to perfuade myself he * can have contradicted what he has formerly afferted till after I have • examined, through all the combination of his system, how and on what account he could be drawn into that contradiction; and if I do not • find any thing that gave rise to it, and which must in some measure ' have rendered it inevitable, I am convinced it is only apparent, for * otherwise it must have occurred to Aristotle, who had fo often exa- ' mined his matter with more attention than I can possibly have done, • who enter newly on the subject and chuse him for my guide [E].' Just as this reasoning is in general, it is not however absolutely conclufive, and especially the last sentence. Though a man must know his own meaning better than another, it does not follow that he shall have formed a regular chain of causes and confequences in a [F] hasty sketch, which I conceive this piece to be, and not a finished work. Or even if it was, who has ever yet formed a compofition in which it is impoffible for criticism to find a fingle inaccuracy? On this ground we may fuppose, (I hazard it merely as a conjecture,) that the philosopher who has mentioned the [G] intent to kill as equivalent to the actual execution of that intent, in examining the subject farther, and being inquisitive after [E] Dramaturgie, Part 1. page 178.. [c] Ἢ ἀποκτείνη ἢ μέλλη.. [F] See preface.. truth,
A COMMENTARY ON THE CHAP. XIV. truth, and not supporting an hypothesis, without confidering exactly what he had faid before, might be led to remark, that if the tragic effect was carried to the greatest height, and the distressful catastrophe seemed inevitable, it was better to avoid the commiffion of a deed too [H] shocking for representation, even through ignorance of the relation, though the consequence should be, a catastrophe accompanied by a change from mifery to happiness. This in fact, had the treatife been compleat, might have been so explained as to have been no contradiction to his former decifion; for it by no means follows that what is in general preferable must absolutely and invariably be so in every cafe, and under all poffible circumstances [1]. M. Batteux tries to vindicate Aristotle on the supposition that he does not mean the best manner in general, but the best of these four modes; forgetting that he has faid there are no other modes except these four, and that he is pointing out the best way of conducting properly a tragic fable. Dacier takes up partly the same idea, that Aristotle is not speaking of fable in general, but only giving directions how to manage atrocious [Η] τι τῶν ἀνηκέςων. [1] See Mr. Twining's note 106, who defends Aristotle exactly on this principle, supposing him to say, When the circumstances of the traditional story from which the poet takes his < plot, are such as leave him only the alternative either of disgusting and shocking the spec- › tator, or of gratifying his wishes, the latter is clearly to be preferred, and the διπλῆ σύςασις › to which I affigned the second place, will in that particular case deserve the first. But is not this idea both of Mr. Twining and myself rather a justification of Ariftotle's supposed opinion in this place than a reconciliation of it with his former decifion, since he is certainly speaking of the general construction of tragic fable, and not of particular exceptions ? actions
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. actions properly, without changing the essential part of the fable. When, for instance, the murder of Clytemnestra by Orestes is fixed on for the subject of a tragedy, we should examine which arrangement would fuit it best. The first will not fuit it as being too atrocious and efssentially altering the story; the second, (which is the real fact by the way, and which the three (K) Greek tragic poets that remain to us have adopted) will be too horrible; the fourth would entirely destroy the received fable; therefore the third only remains. But would not the fable be equally destroyed by this; and is it not an essential part of the story that Orestes does not kill his mother by accident, but to revenge his father's death? It is true such an alteration is faid to be made in the tragedy of Eriphyle, but as we have no circumstantial account of that story, or do not know with what variation it may have been related, or have any remains of the tragedy, we can only say that it does not feem to fall exactly under the fame predicament with the story of Orestes and Clytemnestra, which is recorded by Homer (L) as well as the three principal ornaments of the Grecian tragic drama. It would however have been on this account a much better example for Dacier to have chosen. M. Lessing, immediately after the passage I have quoted from him, undertakes the defence of Aristotle on another ground. He argues that the affecting part of the tragedy arifing from peripetía and discovery are distinct things from the catastrophe, and that they often happen prior to it: as, for instance, in the fourth act of the Edipus: as alfo in the Iphigenia in Tauris of Euripides, and the very tragedy he is criticising, [K] In the Choephori of Æschylus, and the Electra of Euripides and Sophocles. [L] Homer does indeed mention Eriphyle, but in a very cursory manner. the
the Merope of Voltaire and Maffei. M. Lessing then adds, That it ' is easy to shew in the fubject of Merope itself, how perfectly it is ، poffible in the fame fable to combine the most tragical [M] peripetía with the most tragical pathos. We find indeed the last, but what * hinders us also from having the first? Suppose, for example, after having discovered her fon before the killed him, she had occafioned • afterwards either his death, or her own, by her zeal to protect him against Polyphontes. Why might not this piece terminate as well by • the death of the mother as of the tyrant? Why might not the poet * be permitted to carry our pity for a most affectionate mother to the < highest degree, and then make her perish through that very affection, or to cause the son to fall by the artifice of the tyrant after having escaped the vengeance of his mother? Would not fuch a Merope unite ⚫ in effect the two properties of the best form of tragedy which the • critics have found so contradictory? As to the former part of the question the answer is obvious. That the discovery of the son in Merope, and the brother in Iphigenia in Tauris comprehends peripetía as well as pathos there cannot be a doubt. And a poet may, if he pleases, introduce two or ten peripetías in the course of his drama, alternately counteracting the effect of each other. But that after giving a very strong and pathetic peripetía tending to happiness, the addition of a distressful catastrophe would unite two beauties supposed to be incompatible, is so far from the cafe that it must destroy the effect of both. It is indeed an arrange- [M] It is a bold step to render κράτισος, by most tragical. In the use of this word, as in many others, the figurative sense is more familiar than the direct one; most tragical is not fynonymous with beft fitted for tragedy. Were I to say the pathos of Merope is more according to the proper rule of tragedy than Edipus, but the catastrophe is not fo tragical, I think the diftinct meaning of each would be clearly understood, however improper it might be to oppose them to each other in the same sentence. ment
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. ment of fable that I believe no poet has ever yet attempted, and which I believe, if it were attempted, no audience would endure. As to the new catastrophe proposed for Merope, (which if Euripides had chofen it for his Cresphontes would have been directly in oppofition to the rule of Aristotle, as to deviating from received fables,) it is exactly that of Douglas, who absolutely perishes from his mother's too earnest anxiety for his preservation; but there is no previous happy peripetía. Lady Randolph's finding a son she imagined had perished when an infant by accident is nothing like the circumstance in Merope. As for the discovery and peripetía in [N] the Œdipus fo long before the cataftrophe, it has all the weight that an error in a great writer ought to have in justifying fucceeding poets for copying his blemishes, if they are not able to imitate his excellencies. It must be remembered [o] also that Ariftotle recommends that species of tragedy where the peripetía and discovery are united, and that he expressly says the discovery is a transition from ignorance to knowledge, producing either friendship or hatred, in the characters as they are designed for happiness or misery; that is, in other words, occafioning the catastrophe. In the Iphigenia in Tauris indeed, the difficulty and distress continue after the discovery as they do in the modern tragedies of Merope. Of the Helle we know nothing. But I cannot be perfuaded that the scene in Merope of Euripides, the effect of which is so highly spoken of, could be in any other place than the catastrophe. M. Lessing is very fevere on Voltaire for his misrepresentation of Aristotle in his epistle to Maffei, wherein he asserts that the philosopher [N] See Note 1. Chap. VII. [o] See Poetic, Chap. xx. • does
• does not fcruple to call the recognition of Merope and her fon the • most interesting moment of the Greek scene.' Here Voltaire has undoubtedly been guilty of a mistake, either wilfully or accidentally. Ariftotle says no such thing. But that it was highly interesting indeed, we have the authority of Plutarch, who must have been a better judge than any modern can poffibly be. Behold,' he says, ' Merope in the ، tragedy, lifting the axe over her fon as fuppofing him the murderer of • that fon, and saying, " This arm to thee a juster wound shall give." • What a confusion it occasions among the audience, who start up ⚫ through terror and anxiety, lest she should anticipate the arrival of the • old man and strike the youth [P].' Such was exactly what I felt the first time I saw the representation of King Lear, the alteration of which I had never previously read. Why Maffei and Voltaire, who were at liberty to have acted as they pleased in this respect, chose to infert this interesting scene in the middle of the piece rather than in the catastrophe, I cannot determine. It could not be from any difficulty in arranging the mode. It appears from Plutarch that Merope is going to destroy her fon with an axe, and with an axe of facrifice Voltaire makes the tyrant fall at the altar'; the two events therefore of the discovery of the young man and the death of Polyphontes, might have happened almost at the fame moment. Perhaps the choice of the plan they adopted was influenced by a defire of imitating the arrangement of Aristotle's other example, the Iphigenia in Tauris. But without applying to authority our own feelings will con- [P] Plutarch Περί Σαρκοφ. vince
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. vince us the effect of the two scenes must be very different in point of interest. We can never be affected in the same manner by a virgin priestess, who is in the habit of facrificing innocent strangers to Diana, and a mother frantic to revenge the death of a beloved fon on his supposed murderer. Perhaps we may impute this to another cause, the difficulty of keeping up through five acts, an interest in a situation so little affecting as the wish to kill a supposed criminal, neither connected by friendship or blood. But the poet might have supplied this, and made the agitation of the spectator compenfate for the deficiency of it in the character, by informing him of the real connection of Merope and the young man, which must obviously have been the case in the Greek tragedy mentioned by Plutarch. It is true when the discovery is made at the fame time to the spectator and the character, the impreffion on the feelings is greatly increased; but the effect of fuch a discovery is weakened after the first representation [Q]. ، The discovery of Ion in a tragedy of Euripides, imitated by Mr. Whitehead in his Creusa, seems to me in the original, the most perfectly affecting and surprising of any extant, either ancient or modern. To use the words of the Jesuit Poree, which I cite from Mr. Mason's Life of Whitehead, prefixed to the third volume of his works.. In spite of all the faults either real or apparent that may be found in this piece, nothing can be conceived more perfectly theatrical than the representation of a mother on the point of killing her unknown fon, ⚫ and at the fame time of dying unknown by his hands, when at the ، [Q] See Dramaturgie, Part. 1. p. and Note vI. Chap. xvI. and Note 11. Chap. x1. • fame
* same time this double project of parricide serves to restore the fon to * his mother and the mother to her fon.' Perfectly agreeing as I do with Mr. Mason in applauding the great skill of the English poet in the general improvement he has made of this tragedy in his Creusa, I must with him with he had not deviated so much from Euripides in the cataftrophe, to which I suppose he was induced by a defire to adhere to the precept of Aristotle laid down in the last chapter, and to render more tragical that poet whom he had declared the most tragical of the Greek dramatic writers. On examining this passage and the context with attention, we may poffibly find at last that every attempt to reconcile Aristotle with his own reasoning even here, is perfectly impossible, supposing him really to give the preference to the last arrangement. It will be in vain to excuse such a preference on any partial ground, such as that though it might not be the best general form, it may become so in certain instances, or in some particular parts of the drama. Since he declares it not to be so when compared with the other forms, on those very principles from which he decides on their merit; and that not in a different part of the work but in this identical place. The first form he totally rejects because disgustful from the atrocious design, and yet not productive of tragic effect as no one fuffers. Why he gives the preference over this to the next he does not mention, but the reason is clear, for though he cenfures it on account of the disgust arifing from the atrociousness of the design, it has yet the tragic effect he requires. The third species he tells us in express terms is free from the disgust occafioned by a wilful criminal intent, and besides this will have the interest arifing from an unexpected discovery, which is an advantage the other two do not possess. But besides this advantage over the other two it will poffefs the
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. the tragic effect of the second. The last mode will possess the radical advantage of avoiding the criminal intent, and the adventitious one of the unexpected discovery. But it will be deficient in the radical advantage of producing tragic effect from personal suffering, which he is here infifting on, and in which the third mode is not deficient; and therefore Ariftotle cannot give the preference to the fourth mode without forsaking the very ground on which he is absolutely then arguing. But let us go a little back. When Ariftotle first explains what he means by a skilful arrangement of the fable he names only two modes. The most obvious one, and what was generally practised by the older writers, was the simple perpetration of some great crime, not indeed through radical depravity but through paffion, knowing the situation of the persons who were the objects of it; like the Medea of Euripides. To this however has been discovered an improvement which will obviate any disgust arifing from the intentional crime, by making the character ignorant of the connexion of the person who is the object of his vengeance with himself. He now recollects a third mode besides, but which seems to be only suggested by his mention of the other two, as that which he absolutely condemns appears to be brought to his mind by the enumeration of the four only possible forms which arifes from the cafual recollection of this. If these obfervations are right how shall we justify the approbation that Ariftotle gives to the last mode? But has he given fuch approbation? It will be a little fingular if after the censure M. Lessing has bestowed on Voltaire with no niggardly hand, for the hyperbolical eulogium he bestows on this scene in Merope, that the pen of the French poet,
poet [R], like the random pencil of Apelles, should have at once done what so much skill and pains had been in vain employed to do, and that he should have given, though with fome exaggeration indeed, the true meaning of Aristotle, which at once folves every difficulty, and restores the confiftency of his theatrical doctrine. Let us confider the force of the word κράτιςος, and its fituation here. The primary sense of this word, as given by all the lexicographers, as confirmed by a thousand passages from ancient writers, and in conformity to its derivation, is [s] MOST POWERFUL. Why the commentators and translators have universally chosen to give it here the general sense of BEST I can fee no cause but from its immediately following Βέλτιον, the very reason as I should conceive that would have made against that sense of the word. For I believe it is very unusual in comparison of adjectives to mention one word in the positive, another in the comparative, and another in the superlative degree, yet all in the same sense. Stephens in his Lexicon, on the word κράτιςος, after giving many instances of its fignifying MOST STRONG and MOST POWERFUL, adds, 'that it is • sometimes more conveniently rendered by BEST, even in some of the places that he has cited.' The same thing may certainly be said of MOST STRONG or MOST POWERFUL, in our own language, or of FOR- TISSIMUS or VALIDISSIMUS, or VIRIBUS PRÆSTANS, in Latin; but I do not think they could well be confidered as the proper superlative of BETTER or MELIOR. Were I to say such a thing is better than another, but a third has the strongest effect, the superlative strongest (R) I imagine Voltaire was no Greek scholar.. S [s] I have in this edition of my translation ventured to tranflate it, having the most • powerful effect. must
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. must be taken generally as far as that particular quality goes, and not as the superlative of better; though if strength of effect were the quality on which the merit of the subject depended, it would certainly imply it. The fame will hold in Latin. • Melius eft ignarum feciffe, factumque agnoviffe, fortiffimum vero, poftremum.' Could there be in this case any reason for supposing FORTISSIMUM could poffibly be confidered as the superlative of MELIUS? It seems very natural for Aristotle, after having mentioned the two modes he most approved as having the proper pathos in the catastrophe, and given the preference to the latter as avoiding a fault incident to the former, the wilful perfeverance in an atrocious crime, knowing it to be so, and possessing besides a striking discovery, to reflect on the instant that one of the forms he had been condemning possessed this last in a more extraordinary manner, as being capable of producing the strongest dramatic effect poffible, which is by no means an hyperbolical tranflation of κράτιςος, supposing it to be applied in this manner. Surely then there is no inconfistency in relating a fact, however it may make against his own hypothesis, and that it must have been a fact is obvious. Ariftotle in the last chapter shews the great predilection of an Athenian audience for the happy catastrophe: and Plutarch bears a strong teftimony to the effect of the scene between Merope and her fon; and our own feelings will justify this. There is also another reason befides the gratification of our feelings why the happy discovery and peripetía must be more striking than the unhappy one. The reverfe of fortune must be foreseen, or at least suspected in the tragedy ending in distress, or the body of the drama must be deficient both in incident and interest: but the more the tragedy of the other form is filled with distress, the more imminent and inevitable
inevitable the fatal conclufion appears; the stronger will the tragic effect be throughout the course of the drama, and the force of the peripetía and discovery more violent in proportion as they are unexpected and fudden; and they cannot be too much so if they do not exceed the bounds of probability. I do not recollect any tragedy ending unhappily in which the peripetía is not either misery added to former fuffering, or the accomplishment of the expectation of it; as in the Edipus, the Fatal Marriage, and Douglas. I have already mentioned the effect of the scene. in Tate's King Lear. Shakespear tried to create a peripetía of an oppofite kind, by raising our expectation of both Cordelia and Lear's safety through. the interference of the dying Edmund. Perhaps this example may give a full explanation of Ariftotle's use of κράτιςος. We will suppose him reasoning on the alteration of Shakespear's Lear with all his prejudice in favour of the unhappy catastrophe. • I will allow,' he might say,' that Tate, though an inferior poet, has by a small and probable change • introduced a most striking and affecting situation; we are at once • anxious for the event, and delighted with its accomplishment; it is • the strongest, the most violent stroke of theatrical effect I know; I ⚫ do not hesitate to say it is the most interesting moment of the English ، ، ، stage; but it is not tragic; it does not possess that pathos, those means of exciting pity and terror, which are the proper objects of the tragic drama.. We do not expect from tragedy the pleasure arifing from • furprize, and affecting situation, which are momentary, but to have our paffions excited, and at the fame time softened by continual and lasting impreffions of terror and distress; and every fort of pleasure is not to • be expected from tragedy, but only that which is proper and peculiar • to itself.' Perhaps
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. Perhaps the reader, who recollects what I have faid on this subject in [T] another place, may think I am defending Aristotle's consistency at the expence of my own. But he will observe I am delivering what I think would be his opinion, and not mine. I must acknowledge that I owe the first hint of this solution to the [u] Cambridge edition of the Poetic, Mr. Cooke having rendered Κράτισον, • Quod maximè valet.' And he has the following note on the passage. What, is that the best form of action which he mentions ، • last, and is the structure of the fable in Cresphontes to be preferred to Edipus? Can Aristotle dissent so much from himself? Or rather do ⚫ the interpreters of Aristotle dissent so much both from him and from ' truth? Let them recollect that third form, which he connects with • the preceding ones by these words ἔτι δὲ, as if doubting whether he • should mention them at all, as unfit for tragedy though adapted to the popular tafte. For such is the force of this word Κράτιςον. ὁ κράτει ὁ νικᾶ, For the vulgar indeed applaud that structure of HAS THE VOGUE. • fable for the causes already given. The action of Cresphontes, con- [T] See Note VII. Chap. XIII. [U] In the same volume Mr. Cooke has given a very elegant and classical Greek version of Gray's Elegy. I will however take the liberty of pointing out one fault. The first line, is rendered The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,' Νυξ πέλει, ἐδ᾽ ἀν᾿ ἀγρὼς πυρὰ καίεζαι ἐδ᾽ ἀνὰ κώμας. Now though this extinction of fire is faid to have been the etymology of Curfew, it is by no means the consequence of it now, or is the idea at all intended to be conveyed either by Gray, or by Milton in the Il Penseroso, but merely the found of the evening bell. See Chap. xx. Rr cerning
cerning which Plutarch has handed down a pleasant fable, is deftitute * of all tragic force because it wants pathos.' I have ventured to give Κράτιςον a much stronger meaning. Indeed I do not recollect such a use of the word as Mr. Cooke suggests; but if I did I should prefer the other, as I think Aristotle must have allowed the discovery in Cresphontes to be forcible, as well as fashionable; neither would he, nor does he, treat the opinion of an Athenian audience as the sentiments of the vulgar. Nor can I fee why an illustration of a moral effect, in a grave treatise by Plutarch, drawn most probably from a very familiar, and certainly a very natural example, should be confidered as a pleasant fable only. CHAP.
2.
mvp-aristotle-comment-96
Ritter, cap. 14 § 2
τὸ δὲ διὰ τῆς ὄψεως τοῦτο παρασκευά - ζειν ἀτεχνότερον καὶ χορηγίας δεόμενόν ἐστιν: non dedit
ἀγῶνος καὶ ὑποκριτῶν, neque dare id potuit, quia fabulam legendam et spectandam secum componere non voluit, sed eam quae molesto ac pretioso apparatu indiget coniunxit cum ea quae illo adeo non eget, ut audire res eius argumento consertas sufficiat. itaque posuit
χορηγίας δεό μενον, non
ἀγῶνος καὶ ὑποκριτῶν: choragia enim cum in fabula agenda magni pretii constaret, cumque a chorago ad orchestram condecorandam et ad chorum conducendum, instituendum, ornandum multo maiores impensae faciendae essent, quam a civitate ad scenam instruendam et actores conducendos,
χορηγίαν generatim pro pretioso et operoso apparatu et apte dici posse et eo intellectu h. 1. accipiendam esse manifestum est. - ceterum lectori animum attendenti liquebit scriptorem personatum, quem c. 6, 19. deprehendimus, ex hoc loco sapientiam suam hausisse, sed eundem auctoris sui sententiam non recte accepisse. Aristoteles enim dicit, si quis ad excitandam miserationem et timorem nimium miserando quodam personarum agentium habitu tristique condicione oculis exposita utatur, id esse
ἀτεχνότερον καὶ χορηγίας δεόμενον. hoc sane prudenter et modice dictum. quid inde imitator fecit? is omnem modum excedens, ut solent imitatores exaggerare, pronuntiavit (c. 6, 19) totam
ὄψιν, h. e. totam actionem oculis excipiendam,
ἀτεχνότατον esse ac minime propriam artis poeticae, et hoc dicere sustinuit, quamvis verus Aristoteles paulo ante (c. 6, 4) monuisset
ὄψιν esse necessariam tragoediae partem.
ἀλλὰ τὸ τερατῶδες μόνον: qui nonnisi miras imagines, ad praestringendos scilicet spectantium oculos, con sectantur, veluti Gigantes et Titanes et Cyclopes, vel insolitos casus, ut sereno caelo fulminum fulgores et tonitruum fragores, illi ad delectandos spectatores non tragoediae vi utuntur, sed artificia quaedam adhibent quae ab arte tragica plane aliena videntur. ex eiusmodi fabulis licet voluptatem aliquam percipiamus, ea tamen non ex ipsa tragoedia manavit: delectatio enim tragoediae propria proficiscitur a miseratione et timore.
3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-97
Ritter, cap. 14 § 3
τὸν ποιητὴν esse poetam tragicum ex contextu verborum liquet. - “
τοῦτο - ἐμποιητέον:
τοῦτο esti
τὸi
ἐλεεινὸν καὶ τὰ φοβερόν. -
ποῖα οὖν δεινὰ ἢ ποῖα οἰκτρὰ φαίνεται τῶν συμπιπτόντων,
λάβωμεν: ut sententiam ab Aristotele in sequentibus enuntiatam recte intelligamus, attendere debemus ad verbum
φαίνεται, quod non idem est, ac
δοκεῖν, sed, apparere et in oculos, incurrere. itaque statim ea timenda et miseranda intelligit, quibus extemplo et facile omnes commoventur. non omnes tragoedias anse comprehendi, ne bonas quidem omnes, ipse ignorare non potuit.
λάβωμεν sanum esse vix credo. sententia quamquam manifesta est, tamen difficile est ad indicandum quod verbum ab initio h. 1. positum fuerit. aptum erat
λέγωμεν,
διίωμεν,
είπωμεν, alia, § 4.
ἂν μὲν οὖν ἐχθρὸς - μέλλων δείκνυσι: hine discimus miserationem spectantium ex Aristotelis sententia pertinere ad primariam tragoediae personam, certe ad eam quae peragit facinus, non ad eam quae perpetitur: nam setiamsi eius qui occidit inimicum inimicus non miseremur, illum tamen, qui occiditur miseratione complecti possumus, sed id philosophus minus spectavit et curavit, immo nonnisi obiter significavit verbis
πλὴν κατ' αὐτὸ τὸ πάθος. iam ubi inimicus inimicum interficit, is sponte inimicoque animo indulgens hoc facit, ut cum innocens esse non possit, nostra in illum miseratio non commoveatur, neque timor in nobis exoritur ne simile quidquam admittamus: nemo enim tam vecordem et nefarium se putat esse, ut propter inimicitias inimicum suum occidat.
οὐδ᾽ ἂν μηδετέρως ἔχοντες: siis qui neque odit neque diligit aliquem tollit, id facinus fere aut iure commissum est, aut incredibile videtur. illud spectator, non improbat, hoc incredulus odit. ri § 5
ιτητοὺς μὲν οὖν παρειλημμένους μύθους λύειμ οὐκ ἔστιν κτλ. traditas fabulas solvere, h. e. plane invertere, quamquam non licet, poeta tamen immutare et ad propositum sibi finem adaptare adeo debet. aliter sensit falsus Aristoteles. vid. c. 25, 7. 11/4186.
καθάπερ καὶ Εὐριπίδης -τὴν Μήδειαν: adiectum za
ὶ indicio est Euripidem in novis tragoediarumscriptoribus referri. Medeae versus significantur 1236-1250 et 1271-1292. -
τοῦτο μὲν οὖν ἐξω τοῦ δράματος: facinus ab Oedipo in Sophoclis Oedipo rege agnitum, hare. caedes patris Laii a se perpatrata, pluribus annis ante id tempus cuius casus in ea fabula explicantur, commissum erat. hoc est illud quod
ἔξω τοῦ δράματος Aristoteles vocavit.
οἷος ὁ ᾿Αλκμαίων ὁ ᾿Αστυδάμαντος: Astydamas tragicus Eriphylam in ipsa fabula trucidari fecit a filio Alcmaeone matrem illam esse nesciente. eodem nomine tragoedia Sophoclis et Euripidis duae olim exstiterunt. ex Euripi deis una inscripta erat
᾿Αλκμαίων ὁ διὰ Ψωφῖδος, altera
ὁ διὰ Κορίνθου. tragoediae Sophocliae tria frustula, Euripidearum plura attulit Dindorfius in
Αποσπασματίοις Poetarum scenicorum Gr. p. 33 et 77
ὁ Τηλέγονος ὁ ἐν τῷ τραυματίᾳ Ὀδυσσεῖ: fortasse Aristoteli de vero huius tragoediae auctore non satis constitit, ideoque eam cognomine definire maluit quam auctorem non satis certum proferre. Athenaeus pluribus saeculis post aut certius hanc rem exploraverat aut minus ille quam Aristoteles cautum se praestitit: scribit enim XIII. p. 562 F., ubi de Chaeremone agit,
ὁ δὲ αὐτὸς ποιητὴς καὶ περὶ τῶν ἐρώντων ἐν τῷ ἐπιγραφομένῳ Τραυματίᾳ φησὶν οὕτως cet. idem XIII. p. 608 E. Ulixem Chaeremonis tragoediam commemorat, unde liquet ab hoc vulneratum Ulixem ad Char remonem auctorem relatum esse. forsitan Athenaeus priore loco scripserit
ἐν τῷ Ὀδυσσεῖ τῷ ἐπιγραφομένῳ τραυματία. i
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-98
Ritter, cap. 14 § 7
καὶ παρὰ ταῦτα οὐκ ἔστιν ἄλλως:
αρ praeter haec non licet aliter facere illum quem poeta in scenam tragicam produxit. statim quidem quattuor agendi modos enumerat, non tres, sed ex his quartum continuo ex tragoedia prorsus relegavit.
διόπερ οὐδεὶς - ὁ Αἵμων: haec ab interpolatorė quodam inserta esse recte pronuntiavit Gruppius ¹) in Ariadna 1) Gruppius etiam voces
ἀπαθὲς γάρ pro suppositiciis habet, sedp. 556., nisi quod vera argumenta falsis commiscuit. vere ille monuit hanc sententiam moleste inferri, neque esse quo commendetur, immo Sophoclem sine iusta causa vituperari; idemque recte observavit inepte dici
οὐδεὶς ποιεῖ,
εἰ μὴ ὀλιγάκις, articulumque ante
Αντιγόνη omitti praeter consuetudinem Aristoteliam. fallitur cum in vitiosae dictionis indiciis numerat
οἷος pro
οἷον :
οἷος enim nihil est nisi vitium editionis Bekkerianae maioris ab ipso editore in minore correctum; falsum est quod affirmavit,
οὐδεὶς ποιεῖ de poeta dici et mire ad Haemonem continuo referri: immo
ποιεῖ dictum est de persona a tragico poeta inducta, apteque statim de Haemone facinus in patrem commissuro dici potest. equidem addendum puto hoc, non modo Sophoclis Antigonam exstitisse, sed etiam Euripideam. verus igitur Aristoteles Sophoclis nomen non omisisset, si ipse, illum Antigonae locum ab interpolatore significatum (v. 1216-1219 ed. Herm.) pro exemplo attulisset, ut non omisit in Rhetoricis I, 13 init.. I, 15 init. III, 16. p. 1417 a 28 et b 19. III, 17. p. 1418 b 31. porro Aristoteles de eiusmodi facinoribus loquitur, unde totius tragoediae habitus et forma pendet: tale autem non est Haemonis. dignus esset Sophocles hac vituperatione, si Creon post multas minas nulla poena Antigonam affecisset. quae ad Sophoclem aut defendendum ab hac reprehensione aut incusandum a viris doctis in utramque partem disputata sunt, ea hoc quidem loco commemorare iam nihil attinet.
8.
mvp-aristotle-comment-99
Ritter, cap. 14 § 8
ἀγνοοῦντα μὲν πρᾶξαι,
πράξαντα δὲ ἀνα - γνωρίσαι: facinoris quod in hunc modum perpatratum et postea agnitum sit tria exempla paulo ante (§. 6) posita erant : item tria exempla deinceps afferuntur ad illustrandam tertiam facinoris committendi et agnoscendi rationem, ubi aliquis in eo est ut nefandum quoddam committat, sed ante quam facit rei atrocitatem agnoscit. ego sine certis argumentis nihil in hoc libro Aristoteli subtrahere sustineo..
9.
mvp-aristotle-comment-100
Ritter, cap. 14 § 9
κράτιστον δὲ τὸ τελευταῖον : ex iis tragoediis quae statim pro exemplis nominantur cum primam et secundam felici exitu fuisse certum sit, eandemque tertiae rationem fuisse admodum verisimile videatur, Aristotelem hoc loco ante a se dictis (c. 13, 4), ubi felicem tragoediae exitum infelici postponit, repugnare crediderunt. sed Lessingius in Dramaturgia Hamburgensi c. 38. apte monuit, non eam esse philosophi sententiam, ut ex agnitione totius fabulae pretium definiatur, immo tragoediam vel optima agnitione ornatam, nisi alia accedant, satis esse vilem ac tenuem. hoc vere. sed quod idem addit, nihil obstare quo minus in hoc genere agnitionis tragoedia tristi exitu concludatur, id quomodo salva unitatis lege fieri posset, neque explicuit neque explicare potuerit.
οἷον ἐν τῷ Κρεσφόντῃ : huius tragoediae auctorem reticeri et earum quae deinceps et c. 15, 5. nominantur, id mirum est et repugnat consuetudini ex aliis Aristotelis operibus cognitae. mihi duobus modis hoc explicari posse videtur. aut finis huiusce capitis (§. 9-11) et totum caput 15. ab interpolatore qui hanc libri formam concinnavit in brevius contracta sunt, cum iste et alia et fabularum laudatarum auctorem tamquam supervacanea omitteret, aut ipse Aristoteles Cresphontem auctoris nomine suppresso memorare sibi licere putavit, quoniam unus Euripides eo nomine tragoediam scripsisset, idemque sibi licere in Iphigenia et Hella, cum Euripides semel legentibus in memoriam vocatus esset, existimavit. eadem ratione defendi vel excusari quodammodo potest, quod c. 15, 5. quattuor Euripidis tragoediae commemorantur, cum primo loco ea posita esset, quo titulo nemo praeter Euripidem tragoediam evulgasset. quamquam, ingenue fateor, haec altera sive explicandi sive excusandi auctoris ratio parum mihi placet: nam vel illud, et Cresphontem nonnisi Euripideam et Orestem nonnisi Euripideam fabulam apud veteres exstitisse, quamquam verisimile est, nullo tamen argumento satis certo constat. de fabula subiecta Euripidis Cresphonti, cuius duodeviginti fragmenta restant, copiosedisputavit Lessingius in Dramaturgia Hamb. c. 37 et 40., hauriens sua ex Hygini fabulis 137 et 184., ex Plutarchi de esu carnium orat. II. c. 5. p. 998 Е.. ·
καὶ ἐν τῇ Ιφιγενείᾳ ἡ ἀδελφὴ τὸν ἀδελφόν: scriptoris menti obversatus est locus Iphigeniae Tauricensis v. 609-830.-
καὶ ἐν τῇ Ἕλλῃ : hanc fabulam aliunde non cognovimus. quae de filio matrem inimicis tradituro inde memorantur, ea Antiopae Euripideae apte inesse potuerunt, cuius tragoediae nomen huic ignoto substitui voluit Valckenarius. in Diatribe Eurip. p. 58-60.
ὅπερ πάλαι εἴρηται: dictum hoc erat c. 13, 5. - §. 11.
περὶ μὲν οὖν τῆς τῶν πραγμάτων συ στάσεως: iam concludit disputationem bonae frugis plenissimam, quam ad fabulae (
τοῦ μύθου) tragicae naturam et, rationem illustrandam inde a 7. capite inchoaverat.