1.
mvp-aristotle-comment-1
NOTE 1. P. 1.
1.1
DITHYRAMBICS—IMITATION.
If the senses, in which the term imitation is applied by Aristotle to Poetry, have been rightly determined in the first Dissertation, there can be no difficulty with respect to the imitative nature of the Epic and Dramatic species. That of the Dithyrambic is not quite so obvious, and has accordingly been variously explained. The little, however, that remains of what Aristotle had said upon this subject, seems sufficient to release any commentator, who is willing to be released, from the trouble of conjectural ingenuity.
In Sect. 3. Part I. where the different objects of imitation are considered, he expressly makes Dithyrambic Poetry imitative of actions, characters, and manners, as well as the Epic and Dramatic; and he, particularly, mentions the Persians and the Cyclops as imitated in the Dithyrambic and Nomic Poetry of Timotheus and Philoxenus.
1
We may conclude, then, that he regarded this kind of Poetry as imitative because, though the mythological tales, which furnished the subject of these hymns, were,
indeed, articles of Pagan faith, and depended not on the Poet's imagination, yet, in the detail of these stories, in describing the actions, and delineating the characters, of the deities themselves, and, still more, of other fabulous and heroic personages occasionally introduced, his fancy and invention must necessarily be, more or less, employed.
This, as we have seen, was, in Aristotle's view, imitation, whether the form of that imitation was partly dramatic and personative, or mere recital in the person of the Poet
2
. That the Poetry of these Dithyrambic compositions was chiefly of the latter kind, seems to be implied in the expression of Plato, who, where he explains his division of Poetry into three sorts—the purely imitative, or dramatic, the purely narrative, and the mixed—refers, for an example of the purely narrative, to Dithyrambic Poetry.
3
Yet he says only, that it is to be found chiefly there—
ἐυροις δ᾽ ἂν αυτην ΜΑΛΙΣΤΑ ΠΟΥ ἐν Διθυραμβοις
. The expression is remarkable, and leaves room for more than a conjecture, that the Dithyrambic was sometimes imitative even in the strict sense of Plato; that is, that the dramatic mixture of the Epic was occasionally admitted.
Instances of this occur in the Odes of Pindar; and many of the Odes of Horace are dramatic
4
. The embarrassment of the commentators seems to have arisen, principally, from the difficulty they found in conceiving, that fiction could be admitted into a species of Poetry addressed to the Gods, and founded on the established Theology of the age. The hymns of Callimachus, and those attributed to Homer, might have been
sufficient to remove this difficulty. These are not, like the Orphic hymns, mere invocations, and indigitamenta, consisting in a short and solemn accumulation of epithets and attributes: they are Epic, narrative hymns; in which the birth, the actions, and even the characters and manners of the deities are described at length, and the fictions of the Poet's imagination are every where engrafted upon the popular creed. The mixture of dramatic imitation, in the Dithyrambic Poetry, is also rendered more probable by the frequent examples of it in these hymns; and especially in those of Homer. From the enthusiastic, wild, audacious character
5
peculiarly attributed to the Bacchic hymns, we have, surely, no reason to suppose in them a degree of scruple and reserve, with respect to all this, which we do not find in other antient religious compositions of a more sober and regular cast.
After what has been said, the reader will hardly think it necessary to have recourse to so distant and conjectural an interpretation as that of the Abbé Batteux, who says—
"Le Dithyrambe est imitation, parceque le Poete, en le composant, exprime d'apres le vraisemblable, les sentimens, les transports, l'ivresse, qui doit regner dans le Dithyrambe."
6
This ingenious writer seems to have been forced into this solution of the matter by his desire of extending the principle of Poetic imitation beyond the limits, not only of Aristotle's meaning, but of all reasonable analogy. All Lyric Poetry he holds to be essentially imitative;
7
and defining it to be that Poetry,
"qui exprime le sentiment,"
he is reduced to the necessity of making out these sentiments, or feelings, to be, in some sort, imitations; for no other reason, than, that they are assumed and feigned—the temporary produce of that voluntary enthusiasm, which the Poet, by the force of his imagination, excites in himself during the moments of composition. But this belongs rather to the style and manner, than to the matter, of Poetry: if imitation at all, it is the imitation, not, properly, of the Poet, but of the man, in order to become the Poet.—The general character of Lyric Poetry is enthusiasm; and enthusiasm, says M. Batteux,
"n'est autre chose qu'un sentiment quel qu'il soit—amour, colere, joie, admiration, tristesse, &c.—produit par une idee."
8
But if all illusive feelings of this kind, raised in us by imagination, are imitations, then, not only every artist of genius is an imitator, when he conceives and plans his work, but even every man of sensibility, whenever he is led, by the voluntary excursions of his fancy, into warm and passionate feelings, that are not prompted by real circumstances. It is certain, indeed, that not only Dithyrambic and Lyric Poetry, but Epic also, and perhaps every other species worth regarding, has its appropriated style and tone, which every Poet adopts and imitates, when he composes in the kind to which it belongs. But the same may be said of a history, a sermon, and even of a letter: for in these also, though we may not imitate any particular writer, we naturally conform to the general style and manner that characterize the particular species of composition.
All this however has, manifestly, nothing to do with the imitation that we are considering.
The Lyric Poet is not always, and essentially, an imitator, any more than the Epic. While he is merely expressing his own sentiments, in his own person, we consider him not as imitating;—we inquire not whether they are the assumed sentiments of the Poetic character, or the real sentiments of the writer himself; we do not even think of any such distinction. He is understood to imitate, in the most general view, no otherwise than by fiction, by personation, by description, or by sound;
9
in the view of Aristotle, only by the two first of these.
I will only add, that the Dithyrambic Poetry was, it seems, not originally imitative, but became so by degrees. This fact, and the causes of it, we learn from a curious passage, in the Harmonic Problems of Aristotle, which I shall have occasion to mention in another place.
2.
mvp-aristotle-comment-2
NOTE 2. P. 2.
1.4
FOR, AS MEN, SOME THROUGH ART, AND SOME THROUGH HABIT, IMITATE VARIOUS OBJECTS, &C.
I have followed the old and most authentic reading,
δια της ΦΩΝΗΣ
: which, though not unexceptionable, has been rejected, I think, without sufficient reason. The philosopher is, here, only illustrating what he had said of the different means of poetical and musical imitation, by comparing those arts, in this respect, with other arts more strictly and obviously imitative.
That he meant to confine his illustration to Painting, was a groundless fancy of Dacier, which led him into two unnecessary corrections of the text, and a very forced and improbable explication of the whole passage. The remark of Aristotle, parenthetically flung in, about art and habit, (
δι μεν δια τεχνης, δι δε δια συνηθειας
,) was by no means necessary to his illustration. Dacier extends the parenthesis by the reading he adopts, (
δι μεν δια τέχνης, οι δε δια συνηθειας, ἐτεροι δε ΔΙ' ΑΜΦΟΙΝ
,) then wonders, why Aristotle,
"qui n'ecrit pas un seul mot inutilement,"
should enter into such a detail; and then, wantonly alters the text, (from
δια τεχνής
, to
δια ΤΥΧΗΣ
,) in order to account for it in a manner, that leaves it more wonderful than he found it.
Castelvetro had before proposed a similar alteration—
ἐτεροι δε ΑΜΦΟΤΕΡΟΙΣ
; but in a sense, which, could it be supported, would be far more to the purpose than that of Dacier:
i. e. "others, again, [imitate] both by colour and by figure." This would answer to what follows, that the different means of imitation, in the Poetical and Musical arts, were used, sometimes separately, and sometimes combined. To this sense, however, an objection immediately occurs. We may imitate an object by figure without colour, but not by colour without figure.
10
But it would be a waste of discussion to enter fully into the merits of an explanation, that is founded on a reading, by no means, I think, sufficiently warranted, either by the authority of MSS. or by any necessity of alteration.
That the words
χρωματα
and
σχηματα
are very frequently joined by the Greek writers to denote painting, is certain. But Aristotle is not here speaking of the different Arts which employ these means of imitation, but of the means themselves, separately and abstractedly. The application of these, singly, or in their various combinations, to those arts, he has left to the reader. It seems probable, (as Victorius has observed,) that Sculpture, at least, was included in Aristotle's idea of
σχηματα
. Possibly, too, the word may be here used in its widest sense, of figure or form in general; which would take in the outline of Painting, the solid figure of Sculpture, and the gestures of the personal Mimic.
That, at least, the word
φωνη
is right, in the old reading, appears highly probable from the frequent mention of the voice, as a principal instrument of imitation, in antient authors. It is called by Aristotle, as Mr. Winstanley has judiciously observed,
παντων μιμητικωτατον των μοριων ημων
.
11
Farther by this reading the illustration intended is more perfect, as it comprehends more "means of different kinds"—
ΓΕΝΕΙ ἑτερα
. The same reason favours also the extension of the word
σχηματα
to Sculpture, at least.
The only objection to the reading,
δια της φωνης
, is, the improbability that Aristotle should, without any apparent reason, envelop the whole passage in embarrassment and ambiguity, by such a change of phrase : —
ΔΙΑ φωνης
; — which every reader is naturally led to join, not with the datives,
χρώμασι και σχημασι
, but with
ΔΙΑ τέχνης
, and
ΔΙΑ συνηθειας
: but the word
φωνης
opposing such a construction, has therefore, probably, been changed to
άμφοιν
. This objection has not been solidly answered, I think, either by Victorius, or any other commentator; nor can I think the change of phrase here by any means sufficiently accounted for, merely by assigning, as Victorius does, a passage of Lucian, where the phrase itself, (to which no one objects,) occurs. [See Mr. Winstanley's note.]—I am much inclined, therefore, to admit the reading said by Madius to have been found in an antient MS. and confirming the conjecture of Robortelli, —
ἐτεροι δε ΤΗ ΦΩΝΗ.
This would clearly mark the bounds of the parenthesis, and fix the construction :
και χρωμασι, και σχήμασι, πολλα μιμενται τινες —(—) ἐτεροι δε τη φωνῃ
.
3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-3
NOTE 3. P. 2.
1.5
AND OF ANY OTHER INSTRUMENTS CAPABLE OF A SIMILAR EFFECT, AS, THE SYRINX OR PIPE.
The word
Συριγξ
is usually understood to mean the Fistula Panis, constructed of reeds, differing in length, fastened together with wax and thread : —
καλαμων συνθηκη, λινῳ και κηρῳ συνδεθείσα
— as it is described by Jul. Pollux.
12
Tibullus has presented in two lines almost as distinct an idea of its form as can be obtained from a drawing.
Fistula cui semper decrescit arundinis ordo,
Nam calamus cerâ jungitur usque minor.
[Lib. ii. 5. 31.]
But the
Συριγξ
of Aristotle, whatever it was, is here mentioned with the Lyre, and the Flute, as having some, though an inferior, degree of the same power and effect:
τοιαυται την δυναμιν
. This is hardly applicable to so very simple and rude an instrument as the pipe of Pan; a contrivance not beyond the invention of a school-boy. Instruments of nearly the same construction are found, at this day, not only in Turkey, and Arabia, but even in the island of New Amsterdam in the South Seas; and it is a circumstance somewhat curious, that, in France, the instrument of the Arcadian deity, or something very like it, is degraded to the use of travelling tinkers, and known by the name of
sifflet de chaudronnier. The reader may see a description and a figure of it in Mersennus; as he may, also, of the South Sea instrument in the Philosophical Transactions, vol. 65, Part I.—But he will not, probably, be much disposed to believe, that the wild and random sounds of this savage whistle have any thing to do with the chromatic system of the Greeks.
But the passage before us is not the only one, where the Syrinx is mentioned in a way which naturally leads one to suppose, that some instrument less simple and imperfect than the fistula Panis must be meant. It is often joined with the cithara and the flute, as an instrument of some importance and effect in concerts and choral accompaniments.
13
In Lucian's treatise
Περί Ορχήσεως
, it appears, among other curious information upon the subject, that the words of the drama, which the pantomimic dancer was to express by gesture alone, were, at the same time, sung by a chorus, accompanied by various instruments, among which the syrinx is repeatedly mentioned, together with the
Αυλος
or flute.
14
This has, certainly, the appearance of some more powerful instrument than the pastoral syrinx.—Indeed, from the passage of Pollux above referred to, there is reason to conclude, that there were two instruments of this denomination; that above described, which he calls the rude, or extemporaneous syrinx, [
αυτοσχεδι
] and another, of similar form, but more artificial construction, which he describes as consisting, not of reeds, but of a number of flutes [
αύλοι πολλοι
] arranged in the same manner. The passage is defective; but this seems to me pretty clearly to be the drift of it.
15
By flutes, he must, at least, be supposed to mean pipes of larger size, and of more solid materials, such as those of which flutes were made. It seems, on the whole, very probable, that the syrinx of Aristotle was either some such improved construction of the flute of Pan, or, as I rather incline to believe, some kind of single pipe, or flageolet. Any single pipe, modulated by the fingers, must be regarded as an instrument far superior to any kind of the fistula Panis, that could be played on only by the clumsy expedient of drawing it along the mouth;"
suprà calamos unco percurrere labro,
" as Lucretius has well described the operation.
16
I cannot indeed say, that I have met with any passage in which the word
Συριγξ
, by itself, is clearly and expressly applied to a single musical pipe or flute. But such a sense is perfectly analogous to other common applications of the word; and, on the other hand, I know of no clear authority that restrains the meaning of the word, whenever it is singly used, to the fistula Panis.
17
Athenæus speaks of the
μονοκαλαμα Συριγξ
invented by Mercury, and opposes it to the
πολυκαλαμα
; and Spanheim, whose authority, in matters of erudition, is as great as the profoundest erudition can give to any man, understands this single-reed syrinx to be meant in the hymn to Mercury attributed to Homer, where it is said of that god, that—
ΣΥΡΙΓΓΩΝ ἐνοπην ποιησατο ΤΗΛΟΘ᾽ ΑΚΟΥΣΤΗΝ.
v. 509. —a mode of characterizing the tone of the instrument, that reminds one of the "ear-piercing fife" of Shakspeare.
After all, a modern reader may be still surprised to find any degree of imitation, or expression, attributed to so trifling an instrument as a flageolet, or a common flute. But, in reading antient authors, it is frequently necessary, if we would either relish, or even understand them, properly, to lay aside modern ideas. And if this be necessary in general, it is, perhaps, peculiarly so in the subject of Music. Expression, in our musical language, usually conveys the idea of delicate and refined performance, and is almost appropriated to emotions of the tender and pathetic kind. But, with the antients, imitation, or expression (for the words appear to have been synonymous,) extended to every kind of emotion; to every effect produced, in any considerable degree, by Music upon the mind. Now very simple instruments, as well as very simple music, are capable of making impressions, and strong impressions, of the joyous kind, without any delicacy or refinement, either in the composition, or the execution. It is not, therefore, strange, that the syrinx, a shrill and lively pipe, should be ranked by Aristotle as an instrument of some expression; especially if, as it seems probable, the syrinx, of whatever kind, was considered as a pastoral instrument, and its expressions were, in consequence, aided by the association of rural and pastoral ideas. The rude syrinx of Pan was unquestionably of this kind, and appropriated to pastoral use; and, as far as it can be supposed to have affected by association, might, in the musical language of the Greeks, and by a hearer who felt that effect from it, be considered and spoken of as imitative, without impropriety. But being, as I conceive, of too simple and inconvenient a construction to admit of any expression but what it derived purely from associated ideas, it would not, I think, have been joined by Aristotle with the most expressive and refined instruments of the antients, the cithara, and the flute, and mentioned as of "similar power and effect."
4.
mvp-aristotle-comment-4
NOTE 4.
1.6
P. 2. FOR THERE ARE DANCERS WHO BY RHYTHM APPLIED TO GESTURE.
performed,] The Greek is—
ὁι των ὀρχηστων
: but there is great reason to suspect the reading. It is generally rendered,
"Some dancers:"
but Victorius, who understands it in that sense, says—
durus tamen sermo
; and produces no authority for such a phrase. Heinsius
proposed—
ΠΟΛΛΟΙ των ὀρχησων
. The learned reader may, perhaps, agree with me, that—
ΕΝΙοι των όρχησων
, would be preferable, as nearer to the text. It is not probable, that the degree of imitative skill here described was possessed by all dancers, or even by
"the greater part"
of them. A passage from Aristocles is preserved by
Athenæus
, in which Telestes, a dancer employed by Æschylus, is mentioned as remarkable for this talent:—
ΟΥΤΩΣ ΗΝ ΤΕΧΝΙΤΗΣ, ωστε, εν τω ορχεισθαι τες Επτα επι Θηβας, φανερα ποιεισθαι τα πραγματα δι ορχησεως.
[Athen. p. 22.]
This dancing appears plainly to have been of that kind, which was afterwards pushed to such an excess of cultivation by the pantomimic dancers in the age of Augustus;
18
and which is well known to have divided all Rome into parties, and even, frequently, to have made the theatre a scene of bloodshed.
19
Of this fact, I cannot help adding, that a proof somewhat curious is furnished by
Valerius Maximus
; who, in the arrangement of his miscellaneous work, places his chapter
De Spectaculis
, immediately after that,
De militaribus institutis
; and gives this reason:
"Proximus militaribus institutis, ad urbana castra, id est, Theatra, gradus faciendus est: quoniam hæc quoque, sæpenumero, animosas acies instruxerunt; excogitataque cultûs Deorum, et hominum delectationis, causâ, non sine aliquo pacis rubore, voluptatem et religionem CIVILI SANGUINE, Scenicorum portentorum gratiâ, macularunt."
[Lib. ii. 4.]
—These
scenica portenta
were the Pantomimes.
Aristotle says here,
δια των σχηματιζομενων ῥυθμων
. It seems, at first view, that the inverse of this expression would have been more accurate—
δια των ρυθμιζομενων σχηματων
—by rhythmic gestures. And, if he had been here considering the imitation of Dance, separately, and in itself, he probably would have expressed himself in that way. But dancing is here transiently mentioned,
merely to exemplify what he had been saying, of the combined, or separate, use of rhythm, words, and melody; and to shew, in what manner, not only melody and rhythm might be separated from words, as in music; but rhythm, also, might be separated from melody, and used alone.
20
Any mode of expression, therefore, which would have represented gestures (
σχηματα
) as the principal means of the imitation, would not have suited his purpose. It would, also, as Victorius and others have observed, have tended to confound the means of imitation in the poetic and musical arts, which he is here considering, with those means of a different kind, which he had just enumerated, as employed in arts of more obvious and strict imitation, and among which
ΣΧΗΜΑΤΑ
were mentioned.
It has been also objected, that Aristotle is, here, professedly instancing
εν ταις ΕΙΡΗΜΕΝΑΙΣ τεχναις
—in the arts
"above-mentioned"
and yet introduces Dancing, which had not been mentioned: a difficulty easily overcome, if we consider, that Dancing was among the musical arts; closely connected with Poetry, and, above all, with Tragedy.
5.
mvp-aristotle-comment-5
NOTE 5.
1.7
P. 3. THE EPOPOEIA IMITATES BY WORDS ALONE, OR BY VERSE, &c.
In my translation of this perplexing passage, as far as the words—
ποιοιτο την μιμησιν
—inclusively, I have given that sense which is now generally adopted, and in which almost all the
commentators
21
are agreed. And it has certainly this advantage, that it seems to be the only consistent and intelligible version that can be given of the whole passage, as it now stands. But it appears to me, after the closest attention I have been able to give it, that, in the present condition of the text, no man can reasonably be confident of conveying the true meaning of Aristotle in any translation or explanation that he can give.
The passage sets out with an expression most unfortunately ambiguous, and demonstrated to be so, by the very confidence with which the ambiguity has been denied, by critics and commentators of great learning and sagacity, in favour of interpretations directly opposite to each other. Some, by the expression,
λογοις ψιλοις
, have understood Aristotle to mean prose, and others, verse, without music.
—But this is far from being all the difficulty with which a translator has to struggle in this passage. In the words—
ἐιθ ἐνι τινι γενει ΧΡΩΜΕΝΗ των μετρων τυγχανεσα ΜΕΧΡΙ ΤΟΥ ΝΥΝ
—there is, surely, something defective. All render this,
"or, making use of some one kind of metre, AS IT HAS DONE to this day."
22
And this, indeed, seems the only sense that can be given to the words as they stand. But it appears to me, that the original cannot, by any fair and warranted elliptical construction, be made to say this. Heinsius alone gives the fair and literal version;
"vel uno tantum genere utatur usque ad tempus nostrum"
in plain English—
"whether mixing different metres together, or using some one kind of metre to this day."
I am perfectly aware of the elliptical genius of the Greek language in general, and of Aristotle's style, in particular; yet to my ears, I confess, this English, nonsensical as it is, does not sound more strange than the Greek from which it is taken. Some word, or words, must, I should suppose, have been omitted between
τυγχανεσα
, and,
μέχρι
.
Again:—
οὐδεν γαρ ἂν ἐχοιμεν ΟΝΟΜΑΣΑΙ ΚΟΙΝΟΝ τες Σωφρονος και Ξεναρχε μιμες, &c.
—I submit it to those who are versed in the Greek language, whether it seems probable, that, if Aristotle had meant to express the sense usually given to the words, (i. e.
"for we should otherwise have no common name to give to,"
&c.) he would have expressed it in that Greek? I can only say that I know of no similar example. But farther: the words are conditional—
οὐδεν γαρ ΑΝ ἐχοιμεν
—and yet the condition is by no means clearly pointed out. The sense may be, and has been, variously supplied. It seems not improbable, that there is some omission between the words,
νυν
, and
οὐδεν
.—I am not able entirely to repel a suspicion—for I give it as nothing more—that the words,
μεχρι τε νων
, may belong to this sentence, and the whole may originally have stood thus:—
ἐιτε μιγνυσα μετ᾿ ἀλληλων, ἐιθ ἐνι τινι γενα χρωμενη των μετρων τυγχανεσα. Μέχρι ΓΑΡ τε νων οὐδεν ΕΧΟΜΕΝ, &c.
i. e.
"For we have hitherto no common appellation,"
&c.
23
So much, as to the condition of the text in this passage. The interpretation, which I have followed, has been very ably defended by several of the commentators, whose arguments I need not repeat; by none, I think, so powerfully as by
Paolo Beni
: but it requires considerable patience to follow him through the controversial zigzag of his captious and fatiguing logic.
The strongest support furnished by Aristotle himself to this extension of the term
Epopœia to all imitation, fiction, invention, &c.
by words only, without music, whether in verse or prose, is, I think, to be found in
Sect. 6, Part I. [Original, cap. ix.]
For, if a history put into verse would, as he there asserts, be still a sort of history, we may infer, that an Epic Poem reduced to prose would, in his idea, have been still a sort, at least, of Poem. What he says in the conclusion of that section—that the Poet should be the
Ποιητης
, or Maker, rather of his fable, than of his verse, has the same aspect. The same idea is also favoured by the extent which he has actually given to the term
Epopœia, in
Sect. 3, Part I. [Original, cap. ii.]
where it is expressly applied, not only to the serious Poetry of Homer, but to Poems of a comic, and even burlesque, character.
An Epic Poem without elevation is, nearly, as repugnant to modern ideas as a Poem without verse. It would not appear much more strange to give the title of Epic Poem to
Tom Jones, than to
Hudibras; to apply it to the
Telemaque, would, undoubtedly, appear much less strange.
It may be worth remarking, farther, that there is one circumstance, which, I think, would evidently tend to render this doctrine of Aristotle—if it was his doctrine—less extraordinary to the ancients, than it appears to us; and that is, that the difference between metre, and well-measured prose, though, no doubt, sufficient to make them readily distinguished by the ear, seems to have been less than it is with us. To what a degree of refinement they carried their rules for the application of the various poetical feet to their prose compositions, and with what fastidious delicacy of ear they discriminated one combination of syllables from another, is well known from the writings of
Cicero
,
Quintilian
,
Dion. Halicarnassensis
, &c. It would be thought a strange expression, were a modern writer to say, comparing the Orator and the Poet, that the latter was
"rather more confined by numbers:"
"numeris adstrictior paulo."
24
But, after all, the chief point of difficulty appears to me to lie, not in Aristotle's asserting, that Poetry, in his idea of the word, might subsist without verse, but in his giving the name of
Epopæia to such compositions as the Mimes of Sophron, and the Dialogues of Plato. But of this, in the next note.
In my translation of the words,
λογοις ψιλοις
, I have ventured to depart from the common interpretation; but without any material change in the sense. They are generally understood to mean prose; and Dacier asserts positively, that,
"those two words are never joined by Aristotle or Plato in any other sense."
If he meant, that, wherever
ψιλο
is joined to
λογο
, it is always used to exclude metre only, he is certainly mistaken. He had, himself, but just before, quoted a passage of Plato, in which the expression,
λόγοι ψίλοι
, appears clearly to mean, words without melody. It is in his
second book De Legibus
, where, complaining, in his usual strain, of the separation of Poetry and Music, he says of the Poets, that they employ
ῥυθμον μεν και ῥηματα Μέλες χωρις, ΛΟΓΟΥΣ ΨΙΛΟΥΣ ΕΙΣ ΜΕΤΡΑ ΤΙΘΕΝΤΕΣ: μέλος δ'αν και ῥυθμες άνευ ῥηματων, ψιλη κιθαρισει τε και αυλησει προσχρωμενοι
.
25
The words,
λογες ψιλες ἐις μετρα τιθεντες
, Dacier translates, very strangely,
"mettant de la simple prose en vers."
But what has turning prose into verse to
do with Plato's complaint?—
ψιλοι
, here, applied to
λογοι
, answers evidently to
μελες χωρις
, and excludes melody; just as, in
ψιλη κιθαρίσει και άυλησει
, the same adjective answers to
άνευ ῥηματων
, and excludes words. And this appears to me to be the obvious sense of
ψιλοις
in the passage of Aristotle before us. By
λόγοις ψίλοις
, I understand—not, words without metre, i. e. Prose—but, words without music.
26
It is, surely, most natural, and most to Aristotle's purpose, to apply the privative force of
ψιλος
, here, to the two means of imitation, melody and rhythm; which are excluded in the
Epopœia, as words are, in the preceding instance of the flute and the lyre, and both words and music, in that of dance. And thus he has actually used the word, in the compound
ψιλομετρια
, in the next chapter. The only difference is, that there he has joined the word
ψιλά
to metre; here, to words in general. But in both places, the meaning is probably the same—i. e.
"without melody and rhythm."
The word
λογος
is, plainly, used by Aristotle, in his first enumeration of the means of imitation, [
ἐν Ρυθμῳ και Λογῳ και Αρμονια
.
cap. i.
] in the general sense, of language, discourse, or words, whether with, or without metre; as we say,
"the words of a song,"
&c. as opposed to the music
27
; and that, whether those words are verse, as in general they are, or prose, as in the songs of the
Messiah, and in the anthems of our church. And, that the word
λογά
was purposely used by Aristotle in this latitude, is rendered highly probable by his varying the expression, where he
speaks of Tragedy, Comedy, Dithyrambics, and Nomes, to which metre was essential, and substituting there, the word
Μετρῳ
, for
Λογῳ
.
28
It was natural, then, that he should say, when he came to speak of the Epic imitation, as distinguished from those he had before mentioned, that it imitates by words alone—i. e. without melody and rhythm, or, as we should say, without music. But he adds—
Μετροις
—
"or verse."
And why?—Probably, because he thought his expression would be neither clear, nor exact, without it: not clear, because the most usual meaning of
λογοι ψιλοι
being prose, it might have been so taken here, and he might have appeared to say, at least, though no one could reasonably suppose he meant it, that the Epic imitates by prose only—
μονον τοις λόγοις ψιλοις
—not exact, because, metre being, as he himself expressly says, a species, or part, of rhythm,
29
words, put into metre, were not, strictly speaking,
ψιλοι
, that is,
χωρις Αρμονίας και ΡΥΘΜΟΥ
. And this is exactly conformable to the expression of Plato in the passage above quoted, where he considers verse, even unaccompanied by music, as still consisting of rhythm and words, [
ΡΥΘΜΟΝ μεν και ῥηματα Μέλεις χωρις;
]—plainly regarding metre as a species, or form, of rhythm.
I understand, therefore, the meaning of Aristotle, in this expression—
τοις λόγοις ψιλοις, ή τοις μετροις
, to amount to this;—
"by words, without the other means of melody and rhythm, or at most, with so much of rhythm only, as is implied in the idea of metre without rhythm, in its musical sense of strict time."
This sense of the words agrees perfectly with what follows—
οὐδεν γαρ ἂν ἐχοιμεν
, &c. i. e.
"For otherwise—if we do not allow the Epopœia to imitate by words, in the general sense, whether prose or verse—we shall have no common name for Epic imitations in prose; and, if we do not allow it to imitate in either one or more species of metre, we shall have no common name for the same kind of imitation in Elegiac, or other verse."
The great advantage of this sense of
λόγοις ψιλοις
is, that, while it leaves in full force that explanation of the whole passage, which I have followed, it removes, at the same time, or at least considerably weakens, what has always struck me as one of the strongest objections to it. Nothing appears to me more improbable, than, that Aristotle, advancing a doctrine so new, and so repugnant to the prevailing ideas of his own times, as, that a species of Poetry might subsist without verse, should chuse to present this novelty in the most offensive way, by beginning at once, and without any management, with the mention of prose: that he should say—
"The Epic Poem imitates by prose alone, or, by verse."
If by
λόγοις ψιλοις
he had meant prose, as Dacier and others contend, would he not naturally—one might say, unavoidably—have reserved those words for the last in the period? Would not the order, in short, have been this?—
"by verse alone; and that either of a single kind, or mixed—or even by prose."
As I have rendered the words, prose is not mentioned at all, but implied only in the general expression of, words; as it is, equally, in his first enumeration of the means of imitation—
ἐν ῥυθμῳ και ΛΟΓΩΙ και άρμονια
. At the worst, the idea of prose is not, as in the other version, presented before that of verse.
With respect to what I have said of the novelty of the philosopher's doctrine, and its remoteness from the common ideas of the ancients concerning the importance of metre to Poetry, I may refer even to his own way of speaking, in general, upon that subject. In his
Rhetoric
, for example, he says—
ῥυθμον δει ἐχειν του λογον, Μετρον δε, μη ΠΟΙΗΜΑ ΓΑΡ ΕΣΤΑΙ.
—
"In prose-composition there should be rhythm, but not metre: for then it will be a POEM."
30
The reader may also be not displeased to see what
Isocrates thought of the importance of verse, in a passage, which I have given in
NOTE 229
, respecting the privileges and advantages of Poetry.—Plato goes so far, as to compare Poetry, when reduced to prose, to a face, which, having no solid beauty of form and symmetry, has lost its only charm, when the bloom of youth, and delicacy of complexion, have deserted it.
31
But the zeal of Plato for depreciating Poetry is well known. He would, probably, have approved the indignation of one of the Fathers, who called it
"the Devil's wine."
It must be confessed, however, that he has poured a great deal of this wine into his own writings; and were they to be reduced to plain prose, and stripped of that
άνθος
—that bloom and colouring of poetic diction, and poetic fancy, by which they are so distinguished, I should be in some pain for the appearance they would make.
But, to return:—After all that is to be said in favour of that interpretation, which, on the whole, I have thought it best to follow, I must end this note, as I began it, by declaring my conviction of the imperfect condition of the original, and confessing my doubt, whether the true meaning of Aristotle, in this passage, has yet been, or ever will be, discovered.
6.
mvp-aristotle-comment-6
NOTE 6.
1.8
P. 3. THE MIMES OF SOPHRON AND XENARCHUS, AND THE SOCRATIC DIALOGUES.
HAD Aristotle proposed only to extend the term
Εποποἰία to all imitations of the NARRATIVE kind, whether in verse or prose, whether serious or comic, this, to a reader who should enter thoroughly into his ideas of Poetry, would not, perhaps, appear extraordinary. It would be only classing the different forms of Poetry, as one might expect him to class them, according to what he himself conceived to be the chief and most characteristic difference of their imitations. But here, we find the name applied to compositions of a character strikingly different—to Mimes, and Dialogues; for it is indeed, as Dacier says, a very obvious question, and one which cannot but have occurred to every reader—
"les Dialogues ne ressemblent-ils pas plutot au Poeme Dramatique, qu' au Poeme Epique?"
—An embarrassing question, and which, being at all events to be answered, he answers immediately, and roundly—
"Non, sans doute."
And why? Because, says he,
"the drama imitates by words and music, the Epic Poem, by words only."
But, to apply the expression of the philosopher to this critic—
πλεξας ἐυ, λυει κακως
.
32
This is much the same thing as if one should deny, that two men, of form and features strikingly similar, resembled each other, merely because their coats were of different colours; or, to come still nearer to the case, if one should assert that one of these men bore a greater resemblance to a third, with whom he chanced to agree in the single circumstance
of not wearing a wig. Is it probable, that Aristotle, in classing and denominating a principal species of Poetry, should be guided by such a circumstance as the mere absence of music? when even metre he regards as not essential, and speaks of it as one of the
ἡδυσματα
of Poetic language.
33
He allows, indeed, that music is the most pleasurable of the
ἡδυσματα
, or seasonings, of Tragedy;
34
but, that he regarded it as less essential than metre, is evident from the place which he assigns it in his arrangement of the six parts of Tragedy according to the order of their importance;
35
for he there places it next before the
Oψις
, or Decoration, which he pronounces to be, of all the parts,
"the most foreign to the Poet's art :"
ήκιστα δικειον της ποιητικης
.
36
On the other hand, the circumstance of Narration in the person of the Poet he every where seems to make an essential mark of distinction between the Epic and the Dramatic Poem:
37
so that, in order to avoid making him absolutely inconsistent with himself, we must be obliged to suppose, with the commentators, that he uses the word
Ἑποποϊία in two senses, here, in its general
and etymological sense, that of imitating, or making, by words, and every where else in the common and limited sense of narrative imitation.
38
The first of these must be considered as a mere proposal: we must understand Aristotle to say no more than this—that some common term, to include all compositions imitating by words only, was wanted, and that the term, Epopæia, was best adapted to that purpose. In the rest of his treatise he conforms to the established ideas and language.
39
This, however, is by no means satisfactory.
It still remains, I confess, no inconsiderable difficulty with me, to conceive, that Aristotle should, by applying the term
Εποποἰα to all imitative writing, whether of a narrative or dramatic form, without music, give it an extension inconsistent, as it seems, with his own principles, and confounding those distinctions, which, in his own view, were the most essential. If he had meant so to apply the term in the passage before us, he would, surely, have been more explicit, and, where, after this passage, he first mentioned the Epopæia in the usual sense, would have added some words of limitation and distinction to prevent confusion. But this he has not done. Though evidently speaking of the heroic and narrative Epic, he calls it only,
ἡ Εποποιία;
as if no other application of the word had been mentioned.
Of the MIMES of SOPHRON we can acquire but a very imperfect idea, either from what is said of them in ancient authors, or from the fragments that are preserved in Athenæus, Demetrius, and others. It has even been long disputed among the learned, whether they were prose or verse; and, at last, it seems to be settled, that they were neither; a kind of compromise comfortable enough to the disputants on both sides; for if the fragments are something between verse and prose, they, who assert them to be either, are something between right and wrong. I shall not enter into this discussion; but refer the reader to the remarks of the learned
Valckenaer on the argument of the
Αδωνιαζεσαι of Theocritus
; where he will find some curious and uncommon information upon this subject.
40
That these compositions, however, were either a species of the drama, or, at least, dialogues in the dramatic form, there seems to be no doubt.
41
Dacier, indeed, asserts, that they were, like the Epic Poem,
"une imitation composée de narration et d'action."
But he produces no proof of this, nor do I know of any. I must farther observe, that, supposing what is related, of the fondness of Plato for the Mimes of Sophron, and of their having been his model in the
μιμησις προσωπων
of his own dialogues, to be true, it may reasonably be inferred, that we ought by no means to confound them with the Roman Mimes, or to apply to them, as is too often done, all that is said of the latter by Diomedes, and other writers of that age. Such licentious and obscene trash would not, surely, have been found under the pillow of the moral and reforming Plato; and that,
όλοῳ ἐπι γηρα ἐδῳ,
and, as some assert, even in the hour of death.
42
In saying this, however, I do not forget, that delicacy is not to be sought for even in the strictest morality of ancient times. For the best idea that can now be formed of the manner of this famous mimographer, we must have recourse, I believe, to the
fifteenth Idyl of Theocritus
43
, which, as we are informed in the MS. argument found by Ruhnkenius in the royal library at Paris, is an imitation of a Mime of Sophron upon a similar subject.
44
A more exact piece of natural delineation cannot be imagined. It is not, indeed,
la belle nature; it is the nature of common and simple, or, as some affect to call it, of low, life; but copied with so close and faithful a pencil, that, to every reader accustomed, in any degree, to observe the manners of mankind in general, and whose taste is not perverted by affectation, or fettered by rule, the truth and reality of the imitation will, I believe, amply compensate for the want of dignity in the thing imitated. To those who receive no pleasure from this source, I would
rather recommend the
belle nature of Pope's Pastorals, or the still finer nature of Fontenelle's. I would only observe farther, that this imitation of Sophron is in the strict dramatic form and that it contains nothing in the least degree indecent, or disgusting.
Of the
ΛΟΓΟΙ ΣΩΚΡΑΤΙΚΟΙ
, by which, undoubtedly, Aristotle meant chiefly, if not solely, the DIALOGUES of PLATO, I shall only observe, that they have all, in a high degree, the dramatic and imitative spirit, and that by far the greater part of them are in the unmixed dramatic form, so as to admit of representation;
45
and it, accordingly, appears from Plutarch, that those of the lighter cast among them were sometimes performed by boys, as an entertainment, at the Symposia of the Romans in his time.
46
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-7
NOTE 7.
1.10
P. 3. CONNECTING THE POETRY, OR MAKING, WITH THE METRE.
Συναπτοντες τῳ μετρῳ το ποιειν.
—Not,
"on applique au vers seul l'idée qu'on a de la Poesie,"
as
M. Batteux
renders it, but, as it is translated by
Piccolomini
, with his usual exactness—
"congiugnendo il verbo, Ποιειν, [Poiein, cio é fare,] con la qualità del metro."
I understand Aristotle's expression to mean, not the connection of the general idea of Poetry with that of Verse, though this indeed be implied; but, the junction of the word,
ποιειν
, with the name of some particular metre, in the compound words,
Ελεγειοποιοι
,
Εποποιοι
, and the like.
8.
mvp-aristotle-comment-8
NOTE 8. P. 4.
1.11
TREATISES OF MEDICINE OR NATURAL PHILOSOPHY IN VERSE.
Two Poems of Empedocles—that concerning Nature, and his Expiations—contained together, according to
Diog. Laertius
, five thousand hexameters, and another, on the subject of Medicine, six hundred.—
τα μεν ἐν περι ΦΥΣΕΩΣ αυτῳ και δι Καθαρμοι, ἐἰς ἐπη τεινεσι πεντακισχίλια, ὁ δε ΙΑΤΡΙΚΟΣ λογώ, ἐἰς ἑπη ἑξακοσια
[End of the Life of Empedocles.]
This, by the way, confirms the emendation of
Heinsius
—
φυσικον
, for
μεσικον
.
47
Nothing, I believe, is known of any ancient Poem on the subject of Music.
The earliest philosophy was natural philosophy, and the earliest vehicle of that philosophy was verse.
Orpheus
,
Hesiod
,
Parmenides
,
Xenophanes
,
Empedocles
, and
Thales
, are all mentioned by
Plutarch
as poet-philosophers of this kind. Pythagoras is said to have written a Poem
On the Universe, in hexameters. This measure was, at least, suited to the dignity of philosophical speculation. We cannot say so much of the verse chosen by Epicharmus for the vehicle of a treatise
Concerning sensible and intellectual objects—
Περι των αισθητων και νοητων
part of which is quoted by
Diog. Laertius in his life of Plato
. It was written in the Trochaic tetrameter, a very unphilosophical measure, if rightly characterized by Aristotle, who gives it the epithets of
τροχερον ὀρκησικον ΚΟΡΔΑΚΙΚΩΤΕΡΟΝ
.
48
An English reader would be surprised, on opening a didactic and philosophical Poem, to find it written in the measure of
"Jolly mortals, fill your glasses,"
&c.
9.
mvp-aristotle-comment-9
NOTE 9.
1.11
P. 4. HOMER AND EMPEDOCLES HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON BUT THEIR METRE.
In his book
De Poetis, Aristotle spoke somewhat differently. He there said, as cited by
Diog. Laertius
,
"that Empedocles resembled Homer in the beauty of his DICTION; abounding in metaphors, and making a happy use of the other embellishments of Poetic language."
49
It does not seem easy to make this perfectly consistent with what he here asserts that Empedocles had nothing in common with Homer but his metre. He meant, I suppose, no more, than that Empedocles had nothing of the true Poetic character of Homer, his invention, imitation, &c. But he certainly has said more.
10.
mvp-aristotle-comment-10
NOTE 10.
1.12
P. 4. SO, ALSO, THOUGH ANY ONE SHOULD CHUSE TO CONVEY HIS IMITATION IN EVERY KIND OF METRE, &C.
The conjecture of
Heinsius
, who contended, that
ἐκ ήδη και ποιητην προσαγορευτεον
—should be read interrogatively, I have re-
jected, because the sense it gives the passage appears to me to be trifling. It makes Aristotle say—
"If Poets are to be denominated from their metre, what name is to be given to him, who writes a Poem in all sorts of metre? You cannot call him an
Εποποιον
, an
Ιαμβοποιον
, &c. Is he, therefore, not to be called a Poet at all, because you cannot call him the Poet, or Maker, of this or that particular metre?"
—But the answer to this would surely be obvious:
"We cannot, it is true, call him any one of these, exclusively; we call him all these; he is the Poet of every metre, in which he composes; and, in our ideas, the more a Poet, in proportion to the number of the different measures, of which he shews himself a master."
—I must also remark, that, in this way of understanding the passage, the word,
ὁμοἰως
, is not accounted for, nor fairly rendered, I think, either in the version of
Heinsius
, or in any of those that follow him.
I have, also, rejected the reading of
Victorius
—
ΟΥ ποιοιτο την μιμησιν
; because it appears to me, that the phrase will not admit of the sense, in which it is rendered, of not imitating at all. It is observed by
Victorius
himself, that the phrase,
ποιεισθαι την μιμησιν
, is never used by Aristotle as equivalent to
μιμείσθαι
only, but always where he is speaking of the means, or manner, by, or in, which, the imitation is made. Thus,
ch. i.
—
ΠΟΙΟΥΝΤΑΙ την μιμησιν ΕΝ ΡΥΘΜΩΙ και ΛΟΓΩΙ και ΑΡΜΟΝΙΑΙ.
—Again—
ΔΙΑ ΤΡΙΜΕΤΡΩΝ κ. τ. αλ. ΠΟΙΟΙΤΟ την μιμησιν.
And, at the end,
EN ΟΙΣ ΠΟΙΟΥΝΤΑΙ την μιμησιν
—
"the different means, by which they form or execute their imitation."
Thus, too,
ch. xxiv.
ἐι γαρ τις ΕΝ ΑΛΛΩΙ ΤΙΝΙ ΜΕΤΡΩΙ διηγηματικην μιμησιν ΠΟΙΟΙTO.
—
ch. vi.
EN ΤΟΥΤΟΙΣ [sc. μελοποιίᾳ και λεξει] ΠΟΙΟΥΝΤΑΙ την μίμησιν.
So ibid. with a participle—
ΠΡΑΤΤΟΝΤΕΣ ΠΟΙΟΥΝΤΑΙ την μιμησιν
—as in the passage before us,
άπαντα τα μετρα ΜΙΓΝΥΩΝ ΠΟΙΟΙΤΟ την μιμησιν.
—The construction and the sense are the same, when the same mode of expression is applied to other subjects; as,
cap. iv.
—
τας μαθησεις ΠΟΙΕΙΤΑΙ ΔΙΑ ΜΙΜΗΣΕΩΣ
—And,
Rhet. lib. i. cap. i. sect. 3.
ΔΙΑ ΤΩΝ ΚΟΙΝΩΝ ΠΟΙΕΙΣΘΑΙ τας πίστις και τες λόγες
i. e.
"to argue through the medium of common and popular truths."
—I do not know of any instance, in which
ποιείσθαι την μιμησιν
is used in any other way, or put simply for
μιμείσθαι
. I cannot, for example, conceive, that Aristotle, instead of,
το τε γαρ ΜΙΜΕΙΣΘΑΙ συμφυτον τοις ἀνθρωποις,
(
cap. iv.
) would have written—
το τε γαρ ΠΟΙΕΙΣΘΑΙ ΜΙΜΗΣΙΝ συμφυτον, &c.
It appears to me, that, whether the phrase be used positively, or negatively, some imitation is equally implied, and this sentence—
τις άπαντα τα μετρα μιγνύων ΟΥ ποιοιτο ΤΗΝ μιμησιν
—I should by no means think it accurate to translate—
"If any one, mixing all sorts of metre, should not imitate;"
but, (to construe literally for the sake of clearness,)
"if any one should not make THE, (or, which is the same thing, HIS) imitation by mixing all sorts of metre."
This, I confess, appears clearly to me to be the fair English of that Greek; but as this certainly cannot be the meaning of Aristotle here, I must abandon the reading which gives it, and content myself with following that explanation, which is encumbered with the fewest difficulties.
50
The sense, in this way, does not materially differ from that, which is given to the passage by those who adopt the reading of
Victorius
. The word,
ὁμοιως
, has thus its proper force. So has,
ἐκ ΗΔΗ, ΚΑΙ ποιητην προσαγορευτεον.
As if Aristotle had said—
"Such a writer we might, certainly, on the first glance, call, a versifier—a metre-maker—
ἐποποιον
,
ἐλεγειοποιον
, &c. but we should not immediately (
ΗΔΗ), merely on account of the variety of his versification, allow him also the title of Poet—
ΚΑΙ ποιητην προσαγορευτεον
.”
I must, however, be again permitted to declare my doubt, as to the integrity of the text.
11.
mvp-aristotle-comment-11
NOTE 11.
1.12
P. 4. AS CHÆREMON HAS DONE IN HIS CENTAUR.
From some curious fragments of this Poet preserved, or, rather, half-preserved, in
Athenæus
, his genius appears to have been of a gay and voluptuous cast, and to have delighted in minute description of pleasurable objects. In the lines quoted by
Athenæus
from his Tragedy of
Æneus, which are a description of a group of beautiful virgins sporting by moon-light, there is certainly some fancy, and some elegance; but, of that kind, the effect of which is, perhaps, somewhat counteracted by too much appearance of affectation and research. And this corresponds with the character given of this Poet by Aristotle, in his
Rhetoric [lib. iii. cap. xii.]
that he was,
ἀκριβης ώσπερ λογογραφος
; and of that class of Poets, whom he calls
ἀναγνωστικοι
; that is, whose productions, as we commonly express it, read better than they act; are more adapted to the closet, than to the stage.
The ancient Poets, both Greek and Roman, were often, I believe, indebted, for their descriptive ideas, to Painting, or Sculpture. This passage of Chæremon is certainly very picturesque, and was, probably, suggested by some painting on the same subject.
Athenæus
says of this Poet, that he was particularly fond of dwelling upon the description of flowers—
ἐπικαταφορῶ ἐπι τα άνθη
51
; and cites some lines of that kind from his Tragedies. In his
CENTAUR, which
Athenæus
calls
δραμα πολυμετρον
, we must understand, that even the dialogue was in various metres; for in the choral parts this would have been no innovation.
12.
mvp-aristotle-comment-12
NOTE 12.
2.2
P. 68. POLYGNOTUS—PAUSON—DIONYSIUS.
Polygnotus and Pauson are also mentioned by Aristotle in his
8th book De Rep. cap. v.
where, speaking of Painting with a view to education, he says, that
"young men should not be permitted to contemplate the works of PAUSON, but those only of POLYGNOTUS, and of other artists who excelled in moral expression."
52
It seems probable, from this passage, that the pictures of Pauson were not only of a ludicrous, but also of a licentiousness cast. To what a degree the abuse of this art was carried in Aristotle's time, appears from another passage, [
Rep. lib. vii. cap. xvii.
] in which he says, the magistrate should suffer no
"licentious and indecent paintings or statues,"
such as would endanger the morals of youth: but the exception that follows is curious;—
"Unless,"
he adds,
"in the temples of some DEITIES OF THAT CHARACTER, whose legal and established worship consists in ludicrous and wanton rites."
53
While I am upon this subject, I cannot forbear adding a singular passage of
Euripides
, where
Hippolytus
, vindicating himself, and asserting his chastity, says, with a naïveté that, I fear, would hardly be received with decent gravity by a modern audience;—
Λεχους γαρ, ἐις τοδ᾽ ἡμερας, ἁγνον δεμας. Ουκ οἰδα ΠΡΑΞΙΝ ΤΗΝΔΕ, πλην λόγῳ κλύων, ΓΡΑΦΗΙ ΤΕ ΛΕΥΣΣΩΝ· οὐδε ταυτα γαρ σκοπειν Προθυμα ειμι, ΠΑΡΘΕΝΟΝ ΨΥΧΗΝ ἐχων
Hippol. v. 1003.
I am a stranger to the couch of love;
Nor know I of its rites more than the tale
May have informed me, or the Painter's pencil
Presented to mine eye; yet on such picture
Dwells not mine eye delighted, for my mind
[Mr. Potter's Translation, v. 1060.]
The Pauson mentioned by Aristotle was probably the same painter, whose poverty only is recorded by
Suidas
, and of whose wit we have a curious specimen in
Ælian
.
54
OF DIONYSIUs, too, very little is known. That he excelled in natural representation and exact resemblance—in exhibiting men, such as he saw them, without ideal grace on the one hand, or exaggerated deformity on the other is known, I believe, only from this passage of Aristotle. Dacier says this account is confirmed by
Ælian
; but I think he is mistaken. It appears to me, that the
μεγεθα
of which
Ælian
speaks, as the only difference between the paintings of Polygnotus and those of Dionysius, is literal, not figurative, magnitude.
55
He says only, that the pictures of Dionysius, except, that they were on a small scale, were exact imitations of Polygnotus, in the expression of passions and manners, the attitudes of the figures, the lightness and transparency of the draperies, and every other circumstance.
56
It is not easy to see how Dionysius could copy so exactly,
ἐἰς ἀκριβειαν
, the expre-
sion, and the forms, or attitudes, of Polygnotus, without copying, at the same time, his greatness of manner, and his improvement of that nature which he imitated;
57
for these seem entirely to depend upon those two circumstances, the expression of the countenance, and the airs and attitudes of the figures.
It seems, therefore, doubtful, whether Aristotle and
Ælian
speak of the same person. There must, in all probability, have been more painters than one, of that name; which was so common, that the writers so called, alone, furnished
Meursius
with matter for a whole book.—The pictures of Dionysius the Colophonion are mentioned by
Plutarch
as being painted with considerable strength of pencil, [
ίσχυν ἐχοντα και τονον
,] but in a manner which appeared forced and laboured, [
εκβεβιασμενον
,] and which he opposes to the freedom and facility of
Nicomachus
, who seems to have been the
Fà Presto of the ancient painters.
58
This fault, so likely to be that of the artist who aims at an exact and scrupulous resemblance of the nature that is before his eyes, may, perhaps, afford some presumption, that
Plutarch
and Aristotle speak of the same painter.
What Aristotle says of these three styles of picturesque imitation, is easily applied to modern times. The productions, indeed, of these ancient artists, were perishable and of short duration;—
At "genus immortale manet:"
these specific characters have subsisted, and probably will subsist, in every period of the art. For the name of
Polygnotus
, it is obvious enough to substitute that of
RAPHAEL
, or other masters of the higher Italian schools.
"When a man,"
says
Mr. Richardson
, with that simplicity of enthusiasm,
which gives so amusing a singularity to his writings
59
—
"When a man enters into that awful gallery at Hampton-court,
60
he finds himself amongst a sort of people superior to what he has ever seen, and very probably to what those really were."
This is exactly the
βελτιονας καθ ἡμας
of Aristotle.
"Michael Angelo,"
says the same author,
"no where saw such living figures as he cut in marble."
—The Flemish and Dutch schools will supply plenty of substitutes for the Dionysii of ancient painting—those, who, like
Protogenes
,
"in picturâ verum esse, non verisimile, volunt."
62
Rembrandt
must occur to every body. Even
Rubens
"took his figures too much from the people before him."
63
As for the Pausons, the buffoons of the art, they are to be seen in the windows of every print-shop. We must not, however, confound with these
"Tom Browns of the mob,"
as
Mr. Walpole
calls them, the moral humour of
Hogarth
, or the sportive, but harmless, exaggerations of
Mr. Bunbury
.
Hogarth
, indeed, in general, and in his greatest works, seems rather to belong to the highest class of the exact imitators of vulgar nature—
των ΦΑΥΛΩΝ
. His
Country-dance, however, may be mentioned as an example, and an admirable one, of exaggerated comic imitation, in which men are made, in some degree at least,
"worse than they are"
—
XEΙΡΟΥΣ ἐκαζε
. And if any man can look at this
print, or at the
Family-piece, the
Coffee-house Patriots, or the
Long Story, of
Mr. Bunbury
, without feeling a high degree of that pleasure which arises from the perception of strong humour, he must, I think, be still more unprovided with a sense of the ridiculous, than even that
Crassus
, who is recorded to have laughed once, though once only, in his life.
64
13.
mvp-aristotle-comment-13
NOTE 13.
2.4
P. 68. WITH THE MUSIC OF THE FLUTE AND OF THE LYRE.
Thus
PLATO
, in the very language of Aristotle,—
τα περι της ρυθμες και πασαν μεσικην ἐσι τροπων μιμηματα ΒΕΛΤΙΟΝΩΝ και ΧΕΙΡΟΝΩΝ ΑΝΘΡΩΠΩΝ
. A modern reader, that is, a person who reads an antient author with modern ideas, might be inclined to to ask, how men are to be represented as better, or worse, than they are, or how, indeed, represented at all, in a harpsichord lesson, or a solo for a German flute? But the same reader, supposing him in any degree conversant with music, would surely be at no loss to conceive, that it admits of the difference of serious and comic expression; and admits of it in various degrees, from the highest elevation and dignity of style, down to the coarse and vulgar jollity of the gavot, or the hornpipe. Now the meaning of Aristotle, put into modern musical language, amounts, I apprehend, to no more than that. Suppose, then, the music, in these different styles, to be accompanied by words, relating the actions, or imitating the speech, of low, or elevated characters; we might say, that the music was expressive of such actions, or characters; the antients would have said, that it imitated them. On the contrary, suppose this music merely instrumental, we should, in general, only say, that it was grand, and sublime, or comic, mean, vulgar, &c. But the antients, from the close, and almost inseparable connection of
their Music with Poetry, and particularly with the most imitative sort of Poetry, the Dramatic
65
; and partly, also, from the nature of their Music itself, would, in this case likewise, have retained much the same language, and would have considered this Music as imitative of the manners and passions of exalted, or vulgar characters, or even as representing those characters themselves.—But the different ideas, or rather, the different language, of the antients and the moderns on this subject, I have considered more fully, and endeavoured to account for, in the
Second Dissertation
.
66
14.
mvp-aristotle-comment-14
NOTE 14.
2.5
P. 68. CLEOPHON, AS THEY ARE.—
It may be worth while to remark, that the character Aristotle gives of the diction of Cleophon—that it was of the common and familiar kind, without Poetic elevation
67
—corresponds with the account here given of the general object of his Poetry, the exact delineation of common nature and common life. He who means to represent men as they are, will also, of course, represent their language nearly as it is.
The only Poet of this name, of whom, I believe, any account is given, is recorded as a Tragic Poet
68
: but Aristotle undoubtedly alludes here to a Poem of the narrative kind. In another part of his works he mentions a Poem of Cleophon, called
MANDRABULUS.
69
From the proverbial expression—
ἐπι Μανδραβέλε χωρει το πραγμα
(
"worse and worse, like the affairs of Mandrabulus"—
)
in
Lucian
,
70
and the account of its origin in
Suidas
,
71
and
Hesychius
, it seems very improbable that the Poem was a Tragedy. We may rather conclude it to have been of a comic cast; and it seems no unreasonable conjecture, to suppose, that it might be of the narrative kind; modelled, perhaps, in some respects, upon the
MARGITES of
Homer
. At least, the two heroes seem to have been of kindred characters.
15.
mvp-aristotle-comment-15
NOTE 15.
2.5
P. 68. HEGEMON INVENTOR OF PARODIES.
See
Athenæus, p. 698, 699
, and
406, 407
. And
Fabric. Biblioth. Gr. lib. ii. cap. vii.
—The Athenians were delighted with this sort of fun—of all expedients to raise a laugh, the cheapest, and, at the same time, the most infallible.
HOMER
was the great and inexhaustible resource of these Parodists. The best and most considerable specimen remaining, of this kind of Poem, seems to be the Homeric description of an Attic supper by Matron, a great Parodist, and a great eater, in
Athenæus, lib. iv. cap. v.
Isaac Casaubon calls it,
"Carmen ingeniosum, et leporis ac venustatis plenissimum."
The first three lines may serve as a specimen:—
Δείπνα μοι ἐννεπε, Μεσα, πολυτροφα και μάλα πολλα
72
, Ἃ Ξενοκλης ῥητωρ ἐν Αθηναις δενπνισεν ἡμας, Ηλθον γαρ κέμκεισε, πολυς δε μοι ἐσπετο λιμα.
73
The Poem, it must be confessed, has some pleasantry, and much dexterity of comical perversion. We cannot wonder at its effect
upon a people, who had all
Homer
in their memories. It is easy to conceive the roar of the Athenian upper gallery, when, in the description of the cook, bringing in the supper, they heard this line:
Τῳ δ' αρα τεσσερακοντα μελαιναι ΧΥΤΡΑΙ ἑποντος.
74
Sometimes the Parody depended on a pun; of which
Athenæus
gives, with great complacence, a curious example, in a scrap from a Parody of
Eubæus
, describing a quarrel between a barber and a potter. The barber, whose wife, it seems, the other attempts to force from him, addresses the potter in the language of Nestor:—
Μητε συ τονδ , ἀγαθα περ ἐων, ἀποαιρεο ΚΟΥΡΗΝ, Μητε συ, ΠΗΛΕΙΔΗ.
See IL. L. 275, &c.
—where the joke depends on the allusion to
ΠΗΛΟΣ
, mud, or clay; and, probably, to the trade of the speaker, in the word
κερην
; or, perhaps, to the instrument of his art, which we may suppose the actor of the Parody to have brandished at his adversary.—But I do not mean to take to myself the honour of this illustration of an Attic joke. It is to be found in the
Poetics of J. C. Scaliger
.—See
Athen. p. 699. B.
16.
mvp-aristotle-comment-16
NOTE 16.
The conjecture of
Castelvetro
,
την ΔΕΙλιαδα
, (which might be rendered,
The Poltroniad
,) was certainly ingenious, but, I think, unnecessary.
Dacier's
account is probably right; and both his idea, and the common reading, seem to receive some support from the similar national titles that are preserved of other pieces of this Poet; such as,
Κρητες
,
Λάκωνες
,
Λημνιαι
.—See
Suidas
and
Fabricius
.
17.
mvp-aristotle-comment-17
NOTE 17.
2.6
P. 68. SO, AGAIN, WITH RESPECT TO DITHYRAMBICS AND NOMES.
The expression, in this passage, is too general, and too little is known of the examples mentioned in it, to admit of perfect satisfaction, with respect to any thing farther than its general meaning; i. e. that both Dithyrambic and Nomic Poetry admitted the same differences in the objects of their imitation. For so, I think, the sense requires us to understand
75
; not, that the imitation of heroic characters was appropriated to the one, and that of light characters to the other. Both these species of Poetry were hymns; and though the Dithyrambic, or hymn to Bacchus, might, indeed, from its wild and free character, be privileged with a greater latitude and variety of imitation, yet I know of no authority that will warrant our going so far, as to suppose, that they were essentially distinguished from each other in this respect, like Tragedy and Comedy.
The construction of the Greek I understand to be this:—
μιμησαιτο ἂν τις, ὡς Τιμοθεού και Φιλοξενο [sc. ἐμιμησαντο] Περσας και Κυκλωπας
. I am astonished, that any commentators should have taken either of the compositions here mentioned for dramas; an idea totally repugnant to the plain sense of the whole passage, and to the evident purpose for which these examples are cited. With respect to the
Περσαι
, the passage of
Pausanias
may be regarded as decisive;—
Πυλαδε ἀδοντο Τιμόθεει ΝΟΜΟΝ, τε Μιλησία, ΠΕΡΣΑΣ
Paus. Arcad.
—And the Poem began with an hexameter verse which is there quoted. Yet
Fabricius
calls it a Tragedy.
The Poem of
Philoxenus
here meant must, clearly, have been either a Nome, or a Dithyrambic Poem; most probably, the latter.
Philoxenus
is recorded as a Dithyrambic Poet; and Aristotle's illustration will be more complete, if we understand him to exemplify in each of the kinds of Poetry in question. It is by no means certain, that the
Cyclops of
Philoxenus
mentioned by
Athenæus
,
Ælian
, and others, is the piece here alluded to: and, if it were, which, undoubtedly, appears rather probable, I know of no sufficient proof that it was a Drama, as it has been repeatedly called. If
Ælian
is to be regarded, it certainly was not; for he calls it
μελος
—a term appropriated to Lyric Poetry.—
του ΚΥΚΛΩΠΑ ἐργασατο, των ἑαυτε ΜΕΛΩΝ το καλλισον
.
76
I mentioned, in the conclusion of
NOTE 1
. a problem of Aristotle, from which it appears, that the Dithyrambic Poetry was not originally imitative, but became so by degrees. It is the 15th of the Harmonic Problems, Sect. 19. It is there said, that the Dithyrambs, after they became imitative, laid aside the antistrophical form, (i. e. the division into corresponding stanzas
77
,) in which, before, they had been composed.
78
And the reason assigned for this is, that, originally, these Dithyrambic hymns were performed by chorusses of gentlemen, [
ἐλευθερο
] who could not sing in the style of artists, and professors: [
ἀγωνιστικως οἶδειν
:] the words were, therefore, set to the simplest kind of melody,
79
such as that, in which the same air is repeated to similar
stanzas, as in our ballads.
80
But afterwards, it seems, the performance of these hymns, like that of the Nomes, was left to professed musicians, the
ἀγωνισαι
, or masters of the art, who contended with each other in trials of skill, and who were, of course, to exert all their imitative powers. The symmetry of strophe and antistrophe, and the simplicity of air regularly repeated, were ill adapted to this purpose, which required length, variety, and frequent changes of metre, melody, rhythm, mode, genus, &c.
81
in conformity to the various subjects of imitation, and transitions of expression.
82
This account, which affords some little glimpse of curious information, with respect both to the Nomic and Dithyrambic hymn, is confirmed, as far as the latter is concerned, by
Dionysius Halicarn. De Structura Orat. Sect. 19
. He there traces the progress of all this Lyric corruption, and names
TIMOTHEUS
and
PHILOXENUS
as the principal authors of these licentious and wicked innovations—
"for, in the time of the old Poets,"
he says,
"the Dithyrambic ode was an orderly and regular composition."
83
Plutarch
, too, in the Dialogue
Περι Μεσικης
, speaks exactly the same language.
Timotheus
and
Philoxenus
are there repeatedly stigmatized as corrupters of the good old music; and the
ладаρειο
and
Σιμονίδειο τροπο
, is opposed to the
Φιλοξενεις
,
84
with a zeal similar to that, with which, in modern music, we sometimes hear the style of
Corelli
and
Geminiani
opposed and preferred to the heterodox novelties of
Haydn
and
Boccherini
.
85
The manner, in which Aristotle, in this Problem, speaks of the Nomes, when compared with his expressions relative to the Dithyrambics, rather leads one to suppose, that the former were not, even originally, composed in the antistrophic form
86
: the least, however, that can be inferred from it, is, that they discarded that form, and, consequently, became complicated, artificial, and imitative, long before a similar revolution took place in the Dithyrambic Poetry and Music. I may, also, observe that the variety of imitation, and changes of expression, clearly attributed by Aristotle to the Nomes, seem to confirm what I said above—that they did not exclude the same variety, in the objects of their imitation, which the Dithyrambic Poem confessedly admitted.
I will just add, that this Problem of Aristotle throws light upon a passage in his
Rhetoric
, which has embarrassed his commentators. He there [
lib. iii. cap. 9.
] compares the diction that is divided into periods, to the Antistrophic Odes
"of the old Poets:"
but, the
λεξις ειρομενη
, in which the sentence has no other unity than that which copulatives give it
87
, nor any other measure than the completion of the sense, and the necessity of taking breath
88
, or, as
Cicero
, in few words, so admirably describes it,
"illa sine intervallis loquacitas perennis et profluens"
89
—this Aristotle compares to what he calls the
αναβολαι
in Dithyrambic Poetry; meaning, I think, evidently, the long, irregular, protracted Odes of the more modern Dithyrambic Poets; such as those, of which he speaks in the Problem. For the word,
Αναβολη
, here, does not, I believe, signify exordium, proæmium, as usually understood, but was, probably, the name by which these
ὠδαι μακραι και πολυειδεις
were distinguished, and opposed to the old and simple Dithyrambic in stanzas.
18.
mvp-aristotle-comment-18
NOTE 18.
3.2
P. 68. EITHER IN NARRATION, AND THAT, AGAIN, EITHER, &C.
It may safely be pronounced, that the original here, either is not as Aristotle left it, or, was carelessly and ambiguously written. As the ambiguity, however, does not affect the general sense of the passage, it is scarcely worth while to engage in a minute discussion of the comparative merits of the two different constructions, which have been adopted by different commentators and translators. The learned reader knows, or may see, what has been said on both sides. I have preferred that construction, which has always appeared to me to result most obviously and naturally from the words of the original.—
ἐν τοις αυτοις, και τα αυτα μιμεισθαι ἐσιν, ότε μεν ΑΠΑΓΓΕΛΛΟΝΤΑ ( ἑτερον τι γιγνομενον, ώσπερ Ομηρου ποιει, ὡς τον αυτον, και μη μεταβαλλοντα,) η παντας ὡς ΠΡΑΤΤΟΝΤΑΣ και ἐνεργεντας τις μιμεμένες
.
In the other, and most usual way of taking this passage, the mixture of mere narration, and dramatic imitation, in the Epic species, is expressed by the words,
ότε μεν ἀπαγγελλοντα, ἕτερον τε γιγνομενον
. But it seems not likely, that Aristotle would thus oppose the word
ἀπαγγελλοντα
, to
ἕτερον τε γιγνομενον
; because the term,
ἀπαγγελια
, is constantly applied by him, throughout the treatise, to the narrative species in general: it is opposed, not to the dramatic part of the Epic, but to the drama itself.
Απαγγελια
and
διηγησις
, are used by him as synonymous terms, and are both applied to the whole of the Homeric, or dramatic, Epic Poem.
90
On the other hand, the words—
ΕΤΕΡΟΝ τι γιγνομενου
—seem evidently opposed to
ὡς ΤΟΝ ΑΥΤΟΝ και μη μεταβαλλοντα
, and should, therefore, be joined with them, not with
ἀπαγγελλοντα
.—Lastly, in this way of understanding the passage, Aristotle divides the different manners of imitation, as he might naturally be expected to divide them, into those which characterize the two great and principal species, of which he means to treat—the NARRATIVE and the DRAMATIC. The two different modes of the former, i, e. the pure narrative, and the dramatic narrative, are, with more propriety than in the other construction, (in bis view of the subject, at least,) flung into a subdivision.
In either construction, however, Aristotle agrees with
Plato
in enumerating three kinds of Poetry, the purely dramatic, the purely narrative, and the mixed.
91
But the generality of the commentators seem, too hastily, to have taken it for granted, that Aristotle must therefore necessarily enumerate them in the same manner; and they have, accordingly, moulded the flexible and ambiguous construction of this passage, exactly upon the division of
Plato
.
92
I was glad to find myself supported here by the judgment of the accurate
Piccolomini
, whose version coincides with mine.—
In UN MODO, per via di narratione, e questo, ò ponendo se steslo alle volte il Poeta in persona d'altri, come få Homero, over conservando sempre la propria persona non mutata mai. Nel ALTRO MODO poi, introducendo persone à trattare et negotiare, come se le stesse persone che sono imitate, fuffero.
With respect to the imitation here expressly allowed by Aristotle to subsist even in mere narration, without the intermixture of any thing dramatic,
see Diff. I. p. 26
. I agree perfectly with
Mr. Winstanley
, that his emendations are not necessary.
19.
mvp-aristotle-comment-19
NOTE 19.
3.4
P. 69. ELEVATED CHARACTERS
Gr.
ΣΠΟΥΔΑΙΟΥΣ. The adjective
Σπουδαιοι
, and its opposite,
Φαυλος
, are words of considerable latitude. They, each of them, comprehend a number of different, though related, ideas, for which we have not, that I know of, any common word. Propriety itself, therefore, requires of a translator that, which, at first view, seems contrary to propriety—that he should render each of those words differently in different places. To have translated
σπεδαίες
here,
"good,"
or
"virtuous,"
as it may generally be translated, would only have been giving an English word with a Greek idea, which none but readers of Greek would have affixed to it.
The Greeks appear to have applied the word,
ΣΠΟΥΔΑΙΟΝ
, to whatever was, on any account,
ἀξιων σπεδης
—whatever was respectable, important, admirable, serious, valuable, &c. as opposed to
ΦΑΥΛΟΝ
, which was applied, not to vice only, but to whatever was contemptible, trifling, light, ordinary, ridiculous—or, as we say in familiar English, good for nothing.
93
Hence the various senses of both these words in the Greek writers, according as they were applied to persons, and things, that were the objects of esteem, or contempt, on different accounts. Sometimes, therefore,
σπεδαίο
may be rendered by
"good;"
sometimes by
"serious, earnest,"
&c.—Sometimes, as in this passage, and in the definition of Tragedy, by
"elevated,"
"important,"
&c.
94
Some kind of virtue, in the extended sense given to the word
ΑΡΕΤΗ
by the ancient writers on morals, was, indeed, always implied in the epithet
Σπεδαι
; but it included such good qualities, and endowments, as we do not usually call virtues; or, at least, such as we never include in our idea of a virtuous man: as, wisdom, courage, eloquence, &c.
95
—Thus Aristotle himself;
το δε ΣΠΟΥΔΑΙΟΝ είναι, εστι το ΤΑΣ ΑΡΕΤΑΣ ἐχειν
.
96
And what are these virtues?—they are
"all laudable habits."
—
των ἐξεων τας ΕΠΑΙΝΕΤΑΣ, ΑΡΕΤΑΣ λεγομεν
.
97
The subject of Criticism is necessarily connected, in some degree, with that of Ethics; and unless we understand well the moral language of any writer, we cannot be competent judges of his criticism.
20.
mvp-aristotle-comment-20
NOTE 20.
3.5
P. 69. IN SUPPORT OF THESE CLAIMS THEY ARGUE FROM THE WORDS THEMSELVES.
Ποιεμενοι τα ὀνοματα σημειον
.—The participle,
ποιεμενοι
, should be applied, I think, to all the Dorians—not confined, as in Dacier's translation, to those of Peloponnesus. See
Goulston's
version, which appears to me to be right.
Aristotle begins by saying expressly, that the Dorians, in general, laid claim to both Tragedy and Comedy, on account of the term
ΔΡΑΜΑ
, which was a Doric word:—
∆ΙΟ
(i. e. from the term
Δραματα
, just before mentioned,)
ἀντιποιενται της τε Τραγωδίας και της Κωμωδίας ΟΙ ΔΩΡΙΕΙΣ
—He then mentions the peculiar claims of the Megarians to Comedy, and of the Dorians of Peloponnesus
to Tragedy; throwing in, parenthetically, some other arguments on which the former also founded their title to the invention of Comedy: after which, he returns, at the word
ποιεμένοι
, to shew, how these people concurred in arguing from the etymology of the words themselves; all of them, from the word
δραμα
, as it was common to Tragedy and Comedy, and they, who laid claim to Comedy, both from that, and also from the derivation of the word
Κωμωδια
.
The construction, in this way, is, I confess, somewhat parenthetical and embarrassed; but the reader, who is accustomed to the style of Aristotle, will not, I believe, consider this as affording alone any sufficient presumption against the explanation here given.
21.
mvp-aristotle-comment-21
NOTE 21.
4.3
P. 70. THE FIGURES OF THE MEANEST AND MOST DISGUSTING ANIMALS.
Θηρίων τε μορφας των ΑΤΙΜΟΤΑΤΩΝ
.—This reading is strongly supported by the arguments of Victorius, the authority of MSS, and the sense and purport of the passage itself, which seems to require instances of mean, or disgusting, rather than of terrible, objects. Thus too
Plutarch
, in the passages referred to by Victorius, which undoubtedly allude to this of Aristotle.—
Γεγραμμένην ΣΑΥΡΑΝ η ΠΙΘΗΚΟΝ, ἰδοντες ήδομεθα και θαυμαζομεν, ουχ ὡς καλον, ἀλλ᾽ ὡς ὁμοιον ἐσιᾳ γαρ ἐ δυναται καλον γενέσθαι ΤΟ ΑΙΣΧΡΟΝ
κ. τ. αλ. And presently after—
και ΝΟΣΩΔΗ μεν ΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΝ, και ΥΠΟΥΛΟΝ,
ὡς ἀτερπες θεαμα, φευγομεν
κ. τ. αλ.—See also his
Sympos. Problems. lib. v. Prob. 1.
22.
mvp-aristotle-comment-22
NOTE 22.
4.4
P. 70. TO LEARN IS A NATURAL PLEASURE.
To the same purpose, in his
Rhetoric, lib. i. cap. xi. p. 537. Ed. Duval.
"Επει δε το ΜΑΝΘΑΝΕΙΝ τε ήδυ, και το θαυμάζειν, και τα τοιαυτα, ἀναγκη ήδεα ειναι, το τε μεμιμημενον, ώσπερ ΓΡΑΦΙΚΗ, και ΑΝΔΡΙΑΝΤΟΠΟΙΪΑ, και ΠΟΙΗΤΙΚΗ, και παν ὁ ἀν ἐυ μεμιμημενον , καν μη ή ήδὺ το μιμημα γαρ ἐπι τετῳ χαιρει, άλλα συλλογισμού ἐστι, ὅτι ΤΟΥΤΟ ΕΚΕΙΝΟ· ώστε ΜΑΝΘΑΝΕΙΝ τι συμβαινει."
98
"And as it is by nature delightful to LEARN, to ADMIRE, and the like, hence we necessarily receive pleasure from imitative arts, as PAINTING, SCULPTURE, and POETRY, and from whatever is well imitated, even though the original may be disagreeable; for our pleasure does not arise from the beauty of the thing itself, but from the inference the discovery, that 'THIS IS THAT,' &c. so that we seem to LEARN something."
—
Μανθανειν
to learn, to know, i. e. merely to recognize, discover, &c. See
Harris, On Music, Painting, &c. ch. iv. note (b)
. The meaning is sufficiently explained by what follows.
Dryden
, who scarce ever mentions Aristotle without discovering that he had looked only at the wrong side of the tapestry, says—
"Aristotle tells us, that imitation pleases because it affords matter for a rea-
99
soner to enquire into the truth or falsehood of imitation,"
&c.
100
But Aristotle is not here speaking of reasoners, or inquiry; but, on the contrary, of the vulgar, the generality of mankind, whom he expressly opposes to philosophers, or reasoners: and his
συλλογίζεσθαι
is no more than that rapid, habitual, and imperceptible act of the mind, that
"raisonnement aussi prompt que le coup d'œil,"
(as it is well paraphrased by
M. Batteux
,) by which we collect, or infer, from a comparison of the picture with the image of the original in our minds, that it was intended to represent that original.
The fullest illustration of this passage is to be found in another work of Aristotle, his
Rhetoric, lib. iii. cap. x.
,
101
where he applies the same principle to metaphorical language, and resolves the pleasure we receive from such language, into that which arises from the
μαθησις ΤΑΧEIA
—the exercise of our understandings in discovering the meaning, by a quick and easy perception of some quality or qualities common to the thing expressed, and the thing intended—to a mirror, for example, and to the theatre, when the latter is is called metaphorically,
"The mirror of human life."
102
In the
Problems, Sect. 19, Prob. V.
the same principle is applied to Music. The Problem is, Why we are more pleased with singing when we are acquainted with the air that is sung, than when it is new to us?—And one of the answers is,
ὅτι ἡδυ το μανθανειν
. i. e. to say, this is such a tune, or song, &c. And indeed the pleasure afforded by recognition, is no where, perhaps, more visibly illustrated, than in the raptures and rhythmical agitation of a popular
audience, at the return of the leading air, in that species of infallible ear-trap, the
RONDEAU.
I must add, as somewhat amusing, that
Plato
makes use of this principle to prove a dog to be a philosophical animal:
"for, (he argues,)
το φιλομαθες και φιλοσοφον, τ'αυτον
, the love of knowing, and the love of wisdom, are one and the same thing. Now dogs are delighted with knowing, simply, and disinterestedly; they fawn upon every one whom they know, and bark at the approach of every stranger;
103
and that, without having ever experienced good from the one, or harm from the other."
The philosophy of Aristotle here, though undoubtedly true, as far as it goes, will, I am afraid, to those who examine it, hardly appear to be perfectly satisfactory, or to reach the bottom of the subject. It is however to be considered, that what he has said, seems applicable chiefly to rude and unskilful spectators, and should, perhaps, be considered as a description of the effect of a picture or a statue upon children, and the multitude, who are little accustomed to view works of imitative art. And even with respect to them, the principle seems scarcely applicable but to portraits, and individual resemblances, such as may not be instantly recognized. When we look at a picture of that kind, we may not discover, till after a comparison of, at least, a few moments, that it is an imitation of this or that person; but, that it is an imitation of a man, we see at once and where there is not even a momentary ignorance, or doubt, I do not see how any information can be said to be acquired by the spectator, nor how, on the philosopher's own principles, (if I rightly understand him,) the pleasure conveyed by the imitation, can, in any sense, be resolved into that, which the mind receives from the exertion of its own powers in inferring, or discovering, the resemblance.
I say, on Aristotle's own principles, because, in the passage above referred to, where he explains himself more fully in applying the principle to metaphor, he expressly allows, that this pleasure of recognition, is not afforded by proper or common words, since they instantly suggest their meaning and cannot be mistaken.
105
Now a painting, considered as an imitation of a man, a horse, a house, in general, obviously answers in this respect, unless the imitation be grossly imperfect, to the common and familiar word; the one suggesting its original, as readily and immediately, as the other suggests its idea.
106
Among Aristotle's illustrations of this physical principle of the pleasure of self-information, as it might be called, there are two short passages, in particular, which seem to be so explicit with regard to the nature of that pleasure, that I will venture to add to the length of this note by a transcript and translation of them both. They will, I think, satisfy the learned reader that I have not, in the foregoing remarks, misrepresented the philosopher's meaning. After having applied the principle to metaphor, he applies it in like manner to the enthymemes, or arguments, of the orator.
"Διο ἐτε τα ἐπιπολαια των ἐνθυμηματων ευδοκιμει (ἐπιπολαια γαρ λέγομεν τα παντι δηλα, και ῾Α ΜΗΔΕΝ ΔΕΙ ΖΗΤΗΣΑΙ·) ἐτε όσα ειρημενα ἀγνοκμενα ἐστι᾿ ἀλλ᾿ ὅσων, ἡ ἁμα λεγομενων ἡ γνωσις γινεται, και ει μη προτερον ὑπηρχεν, μικρον ύστερίζει ἡ διανοια γίνεται γαρ ῾ΟΙΟΝ ΜΑΘΗΣΙΣ· ἐκεινως δε, οὐδετερον."
107
"For the same reason, we are pleased, neither with superficial arguments, (by which we mean such as are obvious to every one, and require no thought or search in the hearer;) nor with such as we do not understand when we have heard them; but, with those, which the mind apprehends, either while we hear them, (though not at first,) or in the moment after they are delivered:—for by these, we, in a manner, LEARN something: by the others, we learn nothing in either of these ways."
The other passage, in which the nature of the pleasure that Aristotle means is still more expressly marked, is this:
"Παντων δε των συλλογισμων θορυβειται μαλιστα τα τοιαυτα όσα ἀρχομενα ΠΡΟΟΡΩΣΙ, μη τῳ ἐπιπολης ἐἶναι ἁμα γαρ και ΑΥΤΟΙ ΕΦ ΕΑΥΤΟΙΣ ΧΑΙΡΟΥΣΙ προαισθανομενοι και ὅσων τοσετον ὑστεριζεσιν, ὡσθ άμα ειρημενων γνωρίζειν."
"Of all arguments, those are most applauded
108
, of which the audience have no sooner heard the beginning, than they foresee the conclusion;—not, however, from their being trite and obvious; for they are pleased, [not only with the ingenuity of the speaker, but] at the same time, WITH THEMSELVES and their
own sagacity. Those arguments, also, afford pleasure, which, the moment after they are delivered, we are no longer at a loss to apprehend."
23.
mvp-aristotle-comment-23
NOTE 23.
4.4
P. 70. IN A MORE TRANSIENT AND COMPENDIOUS MANNER.
Επι βραχυ
:—literally,
"for a short time."
AS
PLATO
,
Rep. iii. p. 396
,
κατα βραχυ
, for a moment—
en passant
.
Dacier's
explanation—
Quoi qu'ils ne soient pas tous egalement propres à apprendre,
—is, surely, wide of Aristotle's purpose. None of the versions, that I have seen, seem to give the exact idea, except that of
Heinsius
:—
"Quamquam minor BREVIORQUE ad hos perveniat voluptas."
24.
mvp-aristotle-comment-24
NOTE 24.
4.6
P. 70. FROM THE WORKMANSHIP.—
Δια την ΑΠΕΡΓΑΣΙΑΝ
—
"neatness"—"finishing,"
&c. In the following passages of
PLATO
, it is opposed to a slight sketch:—
και αυτων τετων [sc. δικαιοσυνης, σωφροσυνης, &c.] ἐχ ΥΠΟΓΡΑΦΗΝ δει, ώσπερ νυν θεασασθαι, άλλα την τελεωτάτην ΑΠΕΡΓΑΣΙΑΝ μη παριέναι
Rep. vi. p. 504
. So again,
lib. viii. p. 548
, the verb,
ἀπεργαζεσθαι
, is opposed to
ὑπογραφειν
.
25.
mvp-aristotle-comment-25
NOTE 25.
4.7
P. 70. METRE—A SPECIES OF RHYTHM.
Μορια
—parts. The following passage will ascertain the sense of the word in this place, and justify my version. Explaining the
different senses in which the word
Mep
was used, Aristotle says,
ἔτι, εις το διαιρεθειη ἀν, ἄνευ τε Ποσε, και ταυτα ΜΟΡΙΑ λεγεται τετε διο τα ΕΙΔΗ, το ΓΕΝΟΥΣ φασιν είναι ΜΟΡΙΑ
.—
Metaphys. lib. v. cap. 25.
So, in this treatise,
cap. 5.
—
τε Αισχρε ἐστι το Γελοιον ΜΟΡΙΟΝ
—
"a part, or species, of the ridiculous."
26.
mvp-aristotle-comment-26
NOTE 26.
4.7
P. 70. THOSE PERSONS, IN WHOM, ORIGINALLY, THESE PROPENSITIES WERE THE STRONGEST, &c.
It is obvious to remark here, that Aristotle, in this deduction of the art from the mimetic and musical instincts, includes verse in his idea of Poetry, which he, at least, considered as imperfect without it. All that he drops, elsewhere, to the disparagement of metre, must be understood only comparatively... An eminent writer has adjusted this matter... in his
Dissertation On the idea of Universal Poetry
.
109
What is there said, of
"the origin and first application of Poetry among all nations,"
will furnish the best comment I can give, upon the passage which is the subject of this note.
"Poetry is every where of the most early growth, preceding every other sort of composition; and being destined for the ear, that is, to be either sung, or at least recited, it adapts itself, even in its first rude essays, to that sense of measure, and proportion in sounds, which is so natural to us. The hearer's attention is the sooner gained by this means, his entertainment quickened, and his admiration of the performer's art excited. Men are ambi-
tious of pleasing, and ingenious in refining upon what they observe will please. So that musical cadences and harmonious sounds, which nature dictated, are farther softened and improved by art, till Poetry become as ravishing to the ear, as the images, it presents, are to the imagination. In process of time, what was at first the extemporaneous production of genius or passion, under the conduct of a natural ear, becomes the labour of the closet, and is conducted by artificial rules; yet still, with a secret reference to the sense of hearing, and to that acceptation which melodious sounds meet with in the recital of expressive words."
27.
mvp-aristotle-comment-27
NOTE 27.
The scraps that have been preserved of this Poem, the
Dunciad of
HOMER
, are so few, and so short, that it may be worth while, for the convenience of the reader, to collect them.—
Μεσαων θεράπων και ἐκηβολε Απολλωνα,
110
—a line as likely to be found in one kind of Poem as in another... The other fragments are a little more interesting, as they give some idea of the hero of the Poem.
ΤΟΝΔ᾽ ἐτ᾿ ἀν σκαπτηρα θεοι θεσαν, ἐτ᾿ ἀροτηρα, Ουτ᾿ ἄλλως τι σοφον πασης δ ήμαρτανε τέχνης.
Preserved by Aristotle, Eth. lib. vi. cap. 7
Πολλ᾿ ἡπιστατο ἐργα, κακως δ ήπιστατο παντα.
Plato, Alcib. Secund. p. 147. Ed. Serrani.
28.
mvp-aristotle-comment-28
NOTE 28.
4.12
P. 71. HIS MARGITES BEARS THE SAME ANALOGY TO COMEDY, AS HIS ILIAD AND ODYSSEY TO TRAGEDY.
Whenever Aristotle speaks of
COMEDY
, we must remember, that he speaks of the Old, or Middle Comedy, which was no other than what we should call farce, and to which his definition of Comedy was adapted:
μιμησις φαυλοτέρων
; that is, as he explains himself,
"an imitation of RIDICULOUS characters."
111
—This remark is necessary to explain what is here said of the
Margites.
A Poem, which, as far we can form any idea of it, celebrated the blunders and absurdities of an idiot, cannot well be conceived to have been analogous to any thing, that would now be denominated a Comedy. It seems to verge to the very bottom of the dramatic scale;
"jusq' au bouffon; celui-ci sera l'extrême de la Comedie, le
plus bas degré de l'echelle, opposé au terrible qui est à l'autre bout."
112
The
Bourgeois Gentilhomme of Moliere is certainly farce, however excellent in its way. But Mons. Jourdain is a very Ulysses, compared with Margites.
29.
mvp-aristotle-comment-29
NOTE 29.
4.14
P. 72. BY SUCH SUCCESSIVE IMPROVEMENTS AS WERE MOST OBVIOUS.
Ὅσον ἐγινετο φανερον αυτης
—literally,
"so much of it as was manifest."
I doubt of the reading: but, taking it as it stands, I have given what appears to me to offer itself as the most natural and simple meaning of the expression, if not the only one that it will reasonably bear.
30.
mvp-aristotle-comment-30
NOTE 30.
4.16
P. 72. ÆSCHYLUS-----ABRIDGED THE CHORAL PART.
The words are,
ΤΑ το χορό
. Aristotle would hardly have expressed himself thus, had he meant, as
Madius
,
Bayle
, and others, have understood, a retrenchment in the number of choral performers.
ΤΑ τε χορε
, the choral part, is opposed to
ΤΑ άπο σκηνης
, the dialogue,
Prob. xv. of Sect. 19.
It is singular, that
Stanley
should misunderstand this passage; and still more singular, that he should cite
Philostratus
, who is directly against him: for his words are,
συνεστειλε τες χορός, ΑΠΟΤΑΔΗΝ ΟΝΤΑΣ
:
"he contracted the chorusses, which were immoderately long."
113
This is confirmed by one of Aristotle's Problems, referred to by Victorius. The Problem is,
Δια τι οι περι Φρυνίχον ἦσαν μαλλον μελοποιοι
; (meaning, I suppose, more Musicians than the dramatic Poets of his own time:) The answer is,
ή, δια το πολλαπλασια είναι τοτε τα μέλη ἐν ταις των μετρων τραγωδίαις
;
114
I believe the passage may be rectified by transposition—
πολλ. είναι τοτε τα μέλη των μέτρων ἐν τ. Τ.
Perhaps, too, we should read,
των ΤΡΙΜΕΤΡΩΝ
. But, even taking it as it stands, it may sufficiently answer our purpose, as it shews clearly enough how much the Lyric parts of Tragedy, before the time of Æschylus, wanted contraction.
The prolixity of the Tragic Chorus, we know, was sometimes trying to the patience of an Athenian audience. This is pleasantly glanced at by
Aristophanes
in his
Ορνιθες: where the Chorus of birds, descanting on the convenience of wings, tell the spectators, that if they had wings, whenever, in the Theatre, they
"found themselves hungry, and were tired with the Tragic Chorus, they might fly home and eat their dinners, and fly back again, when the Chorus was over."
ΧΟΡ. Ουδεν ἐς᾿ ἀμεινον, ἐδ᾽ ἡδιον, φυσαι πτερα. Αυτιχ, ύμων των θεατων ἐι τις ὴν ὑποπτερο, Ειτα, πανων, τοις χοροισι των Τραγῳδων ήχθετο, Εκπετομενοι ἐν ἑτα ἠρισησεν, ἐλθων ὀικαδε, Κατ᾿ ἀν, ἐμπλησθεις, ἐφ ἡμας ἀυθις κατεπτατο.
v. 786.
31.
mvp-aristotle-comment-31
NOTE 31.
4.16
P. 72. AND MADE THE DIALOGUE THE PRINCIPAL PART OF TRAGEDY.
—
Και τον λογον πρωταγωνισην παρεσκευασε.
Victorius, and others, have supposed Aristotle to mean the Prologue. But it seems to be
a sufficient objection to this sense, that no example has been produced of the word
πρωταγωνισην
, used as merely synonymous to
πρωτο
; as signifying first only, not principal. Nor is it easy to discover any reason, why Aristotle should have recourse here to an unusual and ambiguous expression, when, presently after, in speaking of the improvements of Comedy [
cap. v.
], he makes use of the proper and established term,
προλογ
. There seem to be no words in the Greek language, of which the sense is more clearly fixed, than that of
πρωταγωνισης—πρωταγωνιζειν
. They occur frequently, and always, as far as I know, in the same sense, of principal—
primas agere
, &c. To this sense, therefore, I thought it necessary to adhere.
But I confess I cannot be satisfied with either of the explanations which have been given of the word
ΛΟΓΟΣ
. It appears strange to say, that Æschylus first introduced two actors, and then to add, as a distinct improvement, that he also first introduced a principal part or character:—unless we are to understand, what seems not very probable, that the two actors even of Æschylus himself were, at first, personages of equal dignity and importance in the drama... and that, afterwards, he was the first who corrected this error... and reduced the drama to unity of action by a proper subordination of characters. But, admitting this sense to be without difficulty, the expression of it, I think, is not.
Λόγος
, for a part in the drama,
role, personnage
, (as
Dacier
,) character, &c. seems harsh, and unusual. At least, I know no example of it.
The difficulties which attend both the expression and the sense, in each of these interpretations, have almost convinced me, that the very construction of the words has been mistaken; and that the meaning is,
"he made the discourse, or dialogue, the principal part of Tragedy."
This is well connected with what precedes, and agreeable to the known history of the Tragic drama, in which, originally, the Chorus was the essential, and the Episodes, or dra-
matic part, only the accessory. But Æschylus
"abridged the Chorus, and made the Episodic part the principal."
Λόγος
, here, may well be understood to mean what Aristotle elsewhere calls
λεξις
; the speaking, or recitative, part of Tragedy, whether delivered by one or more actors, as opposed to the
μέλη
, or Lyric part.
115
Παρεσκευασε
,
reddidit, effecit
, &c. as...
ευσεβεστερες τε και σωφρονεςέρες της συνοντας παρεσκευασεν
"magis pios et temperatos reddidit."
116
And thus Aristotle himself,
cap. xix.
ὅταν ἡ ἐλεεινα δεινα δεη παρασκευαζαν.
i. e. to make things piteous, terrible, &c. as in
Goulston's
version; and that of the accurate
Piccolomini
:—
"Quando occorre d'havere à far parere le cose, à miserabili, atroci,"
&c.
117
If the use of
πρωταγωνισης
as an adjective be an objection, it is one to which the other explanations are equally liable. On the whole, I have not scrupled to prefer this sense in my version.
32.
mvp-aristotle-comment-32
NOTE 32.
4.16
P. 72. SOPHOCLES ADDED THE DECORATION OF PAINTED SCENERY.
To adjust exactly the rival claims of Æschylus and Sophocles with respect to the
oψις
, or decoration, of the Tragic stage, would be a desperate undertaking. Some accounts are so liberal to Æschylus, as scarce to leave his successors any room for farther improvements. They give him
"paintings, machinery, altars, tombs, trumpets, ghosts, and furies:"
—to which others add a very sin-
gular species of Tragic improvement, the
"exhibition of drunken men."
—
την δε σκηνην ἐκοσμησε, και την όψιν των θεωμενων κατεπληξε τη λαμπρότητι - ΓΡΑΦΑΙΣ και μηχαναίς, βωμοις τε και τάφοις, σαλπιγξιν, ειδωλοις, ἔριννυσι.
118
—And
Athenæus
says,
πρωτου ἐκεινΘ----παρηγαγε την των ΜΕΘΥΟΝΤΩΝ ΟΨΙΝ ἐς τραγωδιαν.
p. 428.
He adds an example. In the Tragedy called
Καβειροι, he introduced
"Jason and his retinue drunk!"
The passage given by
Dacier
from
Vitruvius
is very general; it says only,
"scenam fecit."
119
This may, or may not, include painting; which, indeed, rather seems to be implied, in what follows, about the improvements of
Democritus
and
Anaxagoras
, where the
"imagines ædificiorum in scenarum picturis"
are mentioned. But all this is far outweighed by the testimony of Aristotle, who here explicitly attributes the introduction of painted Scenery to Sophocles.
33.
mvp-aristotle-comment-33
NOTE 33.
4.17
P. 72. IT WAS LATE BEFORE TRAGEDY----ATTAINED ITS PROPER DIGNITY.
—
Οιψε ἀπεσεμνωθη
:—and to
"late,"
we might add, imperfectly. For, what
Horace
says of the Roman Tragedy, is, in some measure, though perhaps not equally, applicable to the Greek:
in longum tamen ævum Manferunt, hodieque manent veftigia ruris.
Ep. ad Aug. v. 160.
Prejudice aside, it cannot surely be said, that the Greek Tragedy, in the hands, at least, of Æschylus, Sophocles, or Euripides, ever attained its proper dignity. I do not speak of modern dignity; of that uniform, unremitting strut of pomp and solemnity, which is now required in Tragedy. This was equally unknown to the manners, and to the Poetry, of the antients. I speak only of such a degree of dignity as excludes, not simplicity, but meanness—the familiar, the jocose, the coarse, the comic. Now it cannot, I think, be said, with any truth, that these are thoroughly excluded in any of the Greek Tragedies that are extant: in some of them they are admitted to a very considerable degree.
In particular, something of this sort—of what the French call
mesquin
—is almost constantly to be found in the short dialogue of the Greek Tragedies; in that part, I mean, which the eye, when we turn over any Tragedy, easily distinguishes from the rest, by its being carried on in a regular alternation of single verses. In this
"close fighting"
of the dialogue, as
Dryden
calls it,
120
which seems to have retained something of the spirit of the old satyric diverbia, where...
VERSIBUS ALTERNIS opprobria rustica fundunt,
HOR.
—in this part of the dialogue, we generally find... somewhat more than what
Brumoy
calls
"un petit vernis de familiarité ;"
121
especially when these scenes are, as they often are, scenes of altercation and angry repartee.
122
In the
Iphigenia in Aulide of
Euripides
, Menelaus, in the struggle with the old messenger for the letter, threatens to break his head with his sceptre,
Σκηπτρῳ ταχ άρα σον καθαιμάξω καρα.
v. 311.
Fairly rendered by Mr. Potter's verse—
"Soon shall thy head this sceptre stain with blood."
Unfairly dignified by
Brumoy's
prose—
"Prends garde qu'une mort prompte ne punisse ton audace."
Even Sophocles, who gave the Tragic tone, in general, its proper pitch, between the
ογκος
of Æfchylus, and the
ίσχνοτης
of Euripides,
123
is by no means free from some mixture of this alloy in the language of his short dialogue. For example: in the scene between Ulysses and Neoptolemus in the
Philoctetes, [v. 1250,] when Neoptolemus declares his resolution of restoring to Philoctetes his bow and arrows, at which Ulysses expresses his surprise by a repetition of the question,
Τι φης; τιν ειρηκας λογον;
—Neoptolemus replies,
"Would you have me tell you the same thing two or three times over?"
Δις τ'αυτα βέλει και τρις ἀναπολειν μ ἐπη;
v. 1238 [Oxford turn v. 1267].
In another scene... between Teucer and Menelaus, after a long altercation about the interment of Ajax, Menelaus says—
ὧν σοι φρασω τονδ᾽ ἐστιν ἐχι θαπτεον.
—to which Teucer replies—
Συ δ' ἀντακεσον τετον ὡς τεθαψεται.
Ajax, v. 1140 [Oxford turn v. 1159].
In plain English, but no plainer than the Greek—
"M. One thing I'll tell you—he shall not be buried. T. And I'll tell another thing—he shall be buried."
—Certainly this approaches
very nearly to the language of a contest between two washer-women.
124
These may be reckoned among the passages, in which the spirit of Sophocles, according to the observation of a great critic,
σβεννυται άλογως πολλακις, και πίπτει άτυχεστατα
.
125
In the
Antigone there is a scene of altercation between Creon, Ismene, and Antigone, in which, when Ismene, pleading for her sister, asks Creon whether he will put her to death, who was to become the wife of his son, his answer is—
ΑΡΩΣΙΜΟΙ γαρ χάτερων εισιν ΓΥΑΙ.
v. 569 [Oxford turn v. 576].
The prejudiced admirers of the antients are very angry at the least insinuation that they had any idea of our barbarous Tragi-Comedy. But after all, it cannot be dissembled, that, if they had not the name, they had the thing, or something very nearly approaching to it. If that be Tragi-Comedy, which is partly serious and partly comical, I do not know why we should scruple to say, that the
Alcestis of
Euripides
is, to all intents and purposes, a Tragi-Comedy. I have not the least doubt, that it had upon an Athenian audience the proper effect of Tragi-Comedy; that is, that in some places it made them cry, and in others, laugh. And the best thing we have to hope, for the credit of
Euripides
, is, that he intended to produce this effect. For though he may be an unskilful Poet, who purposes to write Tragi-Comedy, he surely is a more unskilful Poet, who writes one without knowing it.
The learned reader will understand me to allude particularly to the scene, in which the domestic describes the behaviour of
Hercules
; and to the speech of
Hercules
himself, which follows.
126
Nothing can well be of a more comic cast than the servant's complaint. He describes the hero as the most greedy
127
and ill-
mannered guest he had ever attended, under his master's hospitable roof; calling about him, eating, drinking, and singing, in a room by himself, while the master and all the family were in the height of funereal lamentation. He was not contented with such refreshments as had been set before him;
ἐτι σωφρονως ἔδεξατο Τα προστυχοντα ξενια Αλλ ἐι τι μη φερομεν, ΩΤΡΥΝΕΝ φερεια
Then he drinks—
Ἕως ἐθερμην᾿ ἀυτον ἀμφιβασα φλοξ
—crowns himself with myrtle, and sings,
ΑΜΟΥΣ ΥΛΑΚΤΩΝ
—and all this, alone.
"Cette description,"
says
Fontenelle
,
"est si burlesque, qu'on diroit d'un crocheteur qui est de confrairie ."
128
A censure somewhat justified by
Euripides
himself, who makes the servant take
Hercules
for a thief:—
πανέργον ΚΛΩΠΑ και ΛΗΙΣΤΗΝ τινα.
The speech of
Hercules
,
φιλοσοφεντου ἐν μεθῃ
, as the scholiast observes, (v. 776,)
"philosophizing in his cups,"
is still more curious. It is, indeed, full of the
φλοξ όνε
, and completely justifies the attendant's description. Nothing can be more jolly. It is in the true spirit of a modern drinking song; recommending it to the servant to uncloud his brow, enjoy the present hour, think nothing of the morrow, and drown his cares in love and wine:
ΟΥΤΟΣ τι σεμνον και πεφροντικού βλέπεις;
129
Ου χρη σκυθρωπον, κ. τ. αλ. ΔΕΥΡ ΕΛΘ᾽, ὅπως ἀν και σοφωτέρου γενη. Τα θνητα πραγματ οἰδας ἦν ἐχει φυσιν; ΟΙΜΑΙ μεν ΟΥ· ΠΟΘΕΝ ΓΑΡ; –ἀλλ᾿ ἀκει με. Βροτοις άπασι κατθανειν ὀφειλεται, Κεκ ἐστι θνητων όστις ἐξεπισταται Την άυριον μελλεσαν ἐι βιωσεται. Ευφραινε σαυτον ΠΙΝΕ! –τον καθ ήμεραν Βιον λογίζε σον, τα δ' άλλα, της τυχης. Τιμα δε και την πλειστον ήδιστην θεων ΚΥΠΡΙΝ βροτοισιν κ. τ. λ.
If any man can read this, without supposing it to have set the audience in a roar, I certainly cannot demonstrate that he is mistaken. I can only say, that I think he must be a very grave man himself, and must forget that the Athenians were not a very grave people. The zeal of
Pere Brumoy
in defending this Tragedy, betrays him into a little indiscretion. He says,
"tout cela à fait penser à quelques critiques modernes que cette piece etoit une Tragicomedie; chimere inconnu aux anciens. Cette piece est du gout des autres Tragedies antiques."
130
Indeed they, who call this play a Tragi-Comedy, give it rather a favourable name; for, in the scenes alluded to, it is, in fact, of a lower species than our Tragi-Comedy: it is, rather, burlesque Tragedy; what
Demetrius
calls
τραγωδια παίζεσα
.
131
Much of the comic cast prevails in other scenes; though mixed with those genuine strokes of simple
and universal nature, which abound in this Poet, and which I should be sorry to exchange for that monotonous and unaffecting level of Tragic dignity, which never falls, and never rises.
I will only mention one more instance of this Tragi-comic mixture, and that from
Sophocles
. The dialogue between
Minerva
and
Ulysses
, in the first scene of the
Ajax, from
v. 74 to 88
, is perfectly ludicrous. The cowardice of Ulysses is almost as comic as the cowardice of
Falstaff
. In spite of the presence of Minerva, and her previous assurance, that she would effectually guard him from all danger by rendering him invisible, when she calls
Ajax
out, Ulysses, in the utmost trepidation, exclaims—
Τι δρας, Αθανα; μηδαμως σφ' ἐξω καλει.
132
Minerva answers—
Ου σιγ άνεξη, μηδε δείλιαν ἀρεις;
133
But Ulysses cannot conquer his fears:—
ΜΗ, ΠΡΟΣ ΘΕΩΝ-ἀλλ᾽ ἐνδον ἀρκειτω μένων.
134
And in this tone the conversation continues; till, upon Minerva's repeating her promise that Ajax should not see him, he consents to stay; but in a line of most comical reluctance, and with an afide, that is in the true spirit of
Sancho Pança
:—
Μενοιμ᾿ ἀν ΗΘΕΛΟΝ Δ᾽ ΑΝ ΕΚΤΟΣ ΩΝ ΤΥΧΕΙΝ.
v. 88.
No unprejudiced person, I think, can read this scene without being convinced, not only, that it must have actually produced, but that it must have been intended to produce, the effect of Comedy.
135
It appears, indeed, to me, that we may plainly trace in the Greek Tragedy, with all its improvements, and all its beauties, pretty strong marks of its popular and Tragi-comic origin. For,
Τρα-
γῳδια
, we are told, was, originally, the only dramatic appellation
136
; and when, afterwards, the ludicrous was separated from the serious, and distinguished by its appropriated name of Comedy, the separation seems to have been imperfectly made, and Tragedy, distinctively so called, seems still to have retained a tincture of its original merriment. Nor will this appear strange, if we consider the popular nature of the Greek spectacles. The people, it is probable, would still require, even in the midst of their Tragic emotion, a little dash of their old satyric fun, and Poets were obliged to comply, in some degree, with their taste.
137
When we speak of the Greek Tragedies as correct and perfect models, we seem merely to conform to the established language of prejudice, and content ourselves with echoing, without reflection or examination, what has been said before us.
Lord Shaftsbury
, for example, talks of Tragedy's being
"raised to its height by Sophocles and Euripides, and no room left for further excellence or emulation."
138
I should be sorry to be ranked in the class of those critics, who
prefer that Poetry which has the fewest faults, to that which has the greatest beauties.
139
I mean only to combat that conventional and hearsay kind of praise, which has so often held out the Tragedies of the Greek Poets, as elaborate and perfect models, such as had received the last polish of art and meditation. The true praise of Æschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, is, (in kind at least, though not in degree,) the praise of Shakspeare; that of strong, but irregular, unequal, and hasty genius. Every thing, which this genius and the feeling of the moment could produce... these writers possess in great abundance: what meditation, and
"the labour and delay of the file"
only can effect, they too often want. Of Shakspeare, however, compared with the Greek Poets, it may justly, I think, be pronounced, that he has much more, both of this want, and of that abundance.
34.
mvp-aristotle-comment-34
NOTE 34.
4.18
P. 72. ORIGINALLY, THE TROCHAIC TETRAMETER WAS MADE USE OF, &c.
As the Trochaic measure was still occasionally admitted, even in the improved and serious Greek Tragedy, and, in particular, occurs very frequently in the Tragedies of Euripides, it is natural to suppose, that a still more frequent use of it would be one of the characteristics of the fatyric drama, which seems to have been only a sort of revival, in an improved and regular form, of the old Trochaic Tragedy with its chorus of dancing fatyrs. It seems therefore somewhat remarkable, though I have not seen it noticed, that in the only fatyric drama extant, the CYCLOPS, and that written by Euripides, who has made so much use of this measure in his Tragedies, not a single Trochaic tetrameter is to be found.
35.
mvp-aristotle-comment-35
NOTE 35.
4.19
P. 73. THE IAMBIC IS, OF ALL METRES, THE MOST COLLOQUIAL, &c.
Compare
Rhet. lib. iii. cap. i.
and
cap. viii. Ed. Duval.
And
Demet. Περι Ἑρμ. Sect. 43.
36.
mvp-aristotle-comment-36
NOTE 36.
4.19
P. 73. ----SELDOM INTO HEXAMETER, AND ONLY WHEN WE DEPART FROM THE USUAL MELODY OF SPEECH.
It has been thought strange, that Aristotle should introduce here the mention of hexameters, when he has been speaking only of Trochaic and Iambic verse, and is accounting for the adoption of the latter, in preference, not to the hexameter, but to the Trochaic tetrameter: and it has, therefore, been doubted, whether we should not read
τετραμετρα
140
. But the established reading, I believe, is right. The Trochaic tetrameter, Aristotle has, both here, and in his Rhetoric, characterized as
σατυρικον - τροχερον όρχης ικωτερον
and even
κορδακικωτερον
141
. He did not, I apprehend, consider it as being, in any degree,
λεκτικóν
. It was therefore entirely out of the question, when a metre proper for the general dialogue of Tragedy was to be sought for: but the bexameter was not so; and it might, without absurdity, be asked by an objector, as Castelvetro and Piccolomini have observed, why that species of verse was not adopted; especially as the Tragic Poets were the successors of the Epic, or Heroic, and Homer, according to Plato, was "the first of Tragic Poets"
142
. As its character was grave and stately, it might seem, on that account, well adapted to Tragedy, where, indeed, we actually find it occasionally introduced. But Aristotle objects to it as less proper, because, though
σεμνον
, it was at the same time,
least
λεκτικον
. He allows, however, that it was not so remote from the rhythm of common speech, but that it might be casually produced, like the Iambic, though it rarely happened. He even goes so far, as to allow, in his concluding chapter, that Tragedy "might adopt the Epic metre."
143
—All this seems to afford sufficient support to the common reading. The Heroic and Iambic feet are, in the same manner, considered together,
Rhet. iii. 8.
By
λεκτικη άρμονια
, Aristotle means what Aristoxenus calls
ΜΕΛΟΣ λογωδες
144
. We must not suppose him to use the word
ἁρμονια
here, in that lax and general sense, in which we commonly apply it to the rhythm of speech, when we talk of the harmony of a verse or a period. He speaks with his usual accuracy. Speech, as well as Music, has its melody and its rhythm; and these, in speech animated by passion, are so modified, as to approach, more or less perceptibly, to musical melody and rhythm.
145
And what Aristotle here asserts, I think, is, that the
Greeks seldom, or never, departed so far from the usual rhythm of speech, as to run into hexameter verse, except when they were led, by the same cause, to depart equally from its usual melody or tones.
37.
mvp-aristotle-comment-37
NOTE 37.
4.20
P. 73. THE EPISODES WERE MULTIPLIED.
The mistakes, into which some commentators have been led by annexing to the term
Επεισοδιον
, as applied by Aristotle to Tragedy, the modern and Epic idea of a digression, "hors-d'œuvre, intermede, morceau d'attache", have been well pointed out by Le Bossu,
Tr. du Poeme Ep. liv. ii. ch. iv. v. vi.
. But he appears to me to have gone too far, and to have fallen into the opposite error, by extending the word even to the most essential parts of the general action, to which he will not allow the
ἐπεισοδια
to be, in any sense, added, united, &c.-but insists that they constitute that action,
"comme les membres font la matiere des corps." With this idea, he had, indeed, some reason to call the word
ἐπασοδιον
, "terme trompeur;" for, in this application of it, all sight of its etymological sense is lost. By all that I can gather from an attentive comparison of all the passages in which Aristotle uses the word, there appears to me no reason to suppose, that he any where meant to apply it indiscriminately to all the incidents of a fable; and it is for this reason that I have no where ventured to render it by the word incident, which would have been too general. Le Bossu's definition is," Les Episodes sont les parties necessaires de l'action etendues avec des circonstances vraisemblables." -The death of Cato, for example, in the Tragedy of Addison, answers to this definition. But would Aristotle have called that an Episode? I can scarce think it. The most I can conceive is, that he might have applied the term
ἐπεισοδια
to the particular circumstances and detail of the action, which were the additions of the Poet's fancy. Le Bossu mentions, as an instance, the escape of Orestes by means of the ablution, in the
Iphig. in Taur. of Euripides; which, he says, Aristotle calls an Episode. But, it is not the escape of Orestes, (
ἡ σωτηρια
) that Aristotle so denominates; this was an essential circumstance, and is expressly included by him in that general sketch of the plot, into which the
ἐπεισοδια
were afterwards to be worked: and one of these Episodes was the detail of the manner in which the escape was effected,
δια της καθάρσεως
. - See
NOTE 143
.
The word
ἐπεισοδιον
is, I think, used by Aristotle only in two senses: 1. The technical sense, in which it is clearly defined to mean, all that part, or, rather, those parts, of a Tragedy, that are included between entire choral odes.
146
2. It is evidently applied, in
other passages, to the particular parts, subordinate actions, circumstances, or incidents, of the fable; but only, I think, to such, as were not essential parts of the Poet's plan or story, though they might be, and indeed ought to be, closely connected with it:-such, as, however important in the action, by contributing to promote the catastrophe, were yet no way necessitated by history, or popular tradition, or, in subjects of pure invention, by the Poet's general and determined plan, but depended on the invention or the choice of the Poet, who might, without any alteration in the
καθόλε λογώ
, as Aristotle calls it, of his drama, have conducted the action to its catastrophe by different means.
The word
ἐπεισοδιον
, then, appears to me never to be used by Aristotle but in its proper and derivative sense, of something more or less adventitious or accessory-something inserted, superadded, introduced, at pleasure, by the Poet. But the Epic Poem, from its extent of plan, and the variety requisite to its purpose, admits, and requires, subordinate actions of greater length and slighter relation to the principal action of the fable, than is consistent with the shorter compass, closer unity, and different end, of Tragedy. As the Episodes of Epic Poetry, therefore, had more distinctness, entireness, and projection from the subject, if I may so express myself, than those of Tragedy, this, as it was the most obvious, became in time almost the only, application of the term; till, at length, from the frequent abuse of this Epic privilege of variety,
and the
μεταβαλλαν τον ἀκεοντα
, scarce any other idea was annexed to the word Episode, than that of digression, bors-d'œuvre, something foreign to the subject, or connected with it only by the slightest thread. Hence, too, in modern language, the word, I think, is applied only to entire actions of this additional, or digressive kind; not to the minuter circumstances or incidents which form the detail of an action. Thus, we call the whole story of Dido, in the
Aneid, an Episode; but we should not give that name to any of the incidents by which the death of Turnus (an action essential to the fable,) is circumstantiated, though equally introduced and supplied by the Poet, and therefore equally, in Aristotle's sense,
ἐπεισοδια
. And so much, as to his use of this term, in general. Whether these remarks are well or ill founded, will best appear, when we come to apply them to the particular passages in which the word occurs. In that now before us, it is used, I think, in the second of the two senses I mentioned; and its best comment seems to be another passage,
cap. xxiv.
where the critic observes the advantage which the Epic Poem has in the variety of its Episodes, and assigns the want of that variety, as one common cause of ill success in Tragic writing: –
το γαρ ΟΜΟΙΟΝ ταχυ πληρεν ἐκπιπτειν ποια τας τραγωδίας
.
38.
mvp-aristotle-comment-38
NOTE 38.
5.1
P. 73. THE RIDICULOUS-A SPECIES OF TURPITUDE OR DEFORMITY; SINCE IT MAY BE DEFINED, &C.
It has been asserted by some writers of eminence, that Aristotle here speaks, not of what is laughable or ludicrous, in general, but only of the ridiculous, in that particular sense of the word, in which it is distinguished from the merely risible, and implies
laughter mixed with disapprobation or contempt. This, however, is certainly not what Aristotle has said; for the word
γελοιον
, which he uses, is as general as possible, and answers exactly to our word laughable. And it is in this general sense, justified, I think, by common usage, that I have used the word ridiculous in my version. For though in a philosophical speculation the distinction above-mentioned may be necessary for clearness, and is undoubtedly well founded, yet, in common language, the word ridiculous is never used with this nice appropriation, but applied, like its Latin original, to whatever excites laughter.
But it is objected, that, if Aristotle means the laughable in general, his account of the matter is false; because "men laugh at that, in which there is neither fault nor turpitude of any kind."
147
I answer, that this is true in English, but not true in Greek. Our word, turpitude, is confined, I think, to a moral sense, and I suppose is here so used by Dr. Beattie; and it is certainly true, that we laugh at many things that have in them no turpitude of that kind-nothing morally wrong. But the Greek word,
ΑΙΣΧΡΟΝ
, was a word of wide extent, and seems manifestly used here by Aristotle in its utmost latitude; comprehending every thing that is, in any degree, ugly or deformed, from atrocious villainy, the highest moral ugliness, to a ridiculous cast of features in an ugly face. It is the opposite to
ΚΑΛΟΝ
, which was used in a correspondent latitude of application. - The objections, which have been made to this passage, have chiefly, I think, been owing to this, that the objectors have not been sufficiently aware of the extensive signification in which the Greeks used the words,
καλον, αισχρον, –ἀρετη, κακια σπεδαιον, φαυλον-άμαρτημα
, &c. We trans-
late the words of antient authors by words to which we annex different ideas, and then raise objections and difficulties from our own mistakes. The consequence of taking
αισχρον
here in the restrained sense of moral turpitude, has been, that those writers, who have so taken it, have been obliged to deny, that
γελοιον
means laughable, because the laughable in general could not truly be defined, "a species of moral turpitude."
It plainly was not Aristotle's design here to enter into an accurate inquiry about the nature of laughter, and the distinction of risible and ridiculous objects. This he had perhaps done, in that part of this mutilated treatise, which related to Comedy, and to which he himself refers in his Rhetoric.
148
His purpose, here, seems to have been, merely to support and explain his account of Comedy; i. e. that it was
μιμησις φαυλοτερων
, "an imitation of bad characters;" that is, as he immediately limits the sense of the general term
φαυλον
, of ridiculous, or laughable, characters. Such, he continues, are properly denominated
φαυλοι, κακοι
, bad, &c. because the laughable (
γελοιον
) is one species of the
αισχρον
, taken in its most general sense. "But to what species, or class," it was obvious to ask, "does it belong?"-To that class, it is answered, of things
αισχρα
, which are neither destructive nor painful: for these, exciting terror or pity, are the property of Tragedy. And he asserts, I think, plainly, that the laughable in general,
το γελοιον
, i. e. every thing that excites laughter, is
ἁμαρτημα ΤΙ και αισχα ἀνωδυνον και φθαρτικον
-is, in some respect or other, faulty, wrong, deformed, but neither painful nor pernicious. What follows, about a ridiculous face, is, I think, clearly, not an illustration merely, as Dr. Campbell understands it to be, but an instance.
149
This seems evident from Aristotle's using the very word
αισχρον
; (
προσωπον αισχρον
) which he would hardly have done, had he just
before used the words
αισχρον
and
αισχ
, as Dr. Campbell and Dr. Beattie contend that he bas used them, in a moral sense only.
But it is objected "We can never suppose that Aristotle would have called distorted features 'a certain fault or slip.'" To call them a slip, would indeed found strangely; because that expression conveys the idea of something morally wrong. But when we say, that a very long nose, or a wide mouth, is a fault in a face, we use a very common expression; the word fault having, I think, the same latitude of application as the Greek word
ἀμαρτημα
.
It must be observed, however, that all Aristotle says is, that these two characters, deformity of some sort, and the absence of pain, or hurt, are to be found in every object of laughter: he neither says, nor implies, the converse that every thing so qualified is laughable. With respect to one of these characters the absence of pain or harm-there can be no doubt. It is only saying that we cannot laugh at that which shocks us. As to the other general character, deformity, ugliness, something wrong, &c. (
ἁμαρτημα ΤΙ και αισχα
) it seems to me, that these expressions, taken in that large sense, in which Aristotle plainly means to use them, amount to much the same as those used by modern philosophers to characterize the risible in general; such as, "incongruity, incongruous association, striking unsuitableness," "disproportion, inconsistence and dissonance of circumstances in the same object"
150
. With respect to works both of nature, and of art," says the ingenious and philosophical author of the Elements of Criticism, "none of
them are risible but what are out of rule, some remarkable defect or excess; a very long visage, for example, or a very short one. Hence nothing just, proper, decent, beautiful, proportioned, or grand, is risible."
151
This appears to me to be exactly the meaning, and to approach very near to the language, of Aristotle. For, of whatever may be thus characterized it surely may be said, that it has some species of fault, deformity, or distortion: in Aristotle's words,
ἁμαρτημα Τι και -αισχρον ΤΙ και ΔΙΕΣΤΡΑΜΜΕΝΟΝ
.
Aristotle's account, then, of the
γελοíον
, appears to be right, as far as it goes. It might, indeed, be objected to, as too general, had he given it as the result of an exact and particular analysis of the subject. But this, as I have already observed, was not his purpose in this place.
It is farther objected by Dr. Campbell, that to speak of laughter in general, "would have been foreign to Aristotle's purpose:" because, "laughter is not his theme, but Comedy; and laughter only so far as Comedy is concerned with it. Now the concern of Comedy reaches no farther than that kind of ridicule which relates to manners."
152
—Undoubtedly it was this kind of ridicule that Aristotle had principally in view. But I apprehend, that the Comedy here in question was concerned with the ridiculous or laughable in general. For Aristotle's notion of Comedy, as an excellent writer has observed, "was taken from the state and practice of the Athenian stage that is, from the old or middle Comedy, which answers to his description. The great revolution which the introduction of the new Comedy made in the drama, did not happen till afterwards."
153
Now the old and middle Comedy, as I have before observed, were no other than
what we should call Farce. To raise a laugh was so eminently their object, that the ridiculous (
το γελοιον
) is frequently used by Plato, as synonymous to Comedy, and substituted for it; as pity is also for Tragedy.
154
Nor was it even very "foreign to Aristotle's purpose" to instance in a ridiculous face; for that this also was an established source of fun in the Greek theatre, is well known from the curious account of the comic masks in Jul. Pollux; who says, particularly of those of the old Comedy, that they were ridiculous caricaturas of the persons represented:—
ἐπι το γελοιοτερον ἐσχηματισο
.
155
The Athenians were certainly not more delicate than Cicero, who thought, we know, that bodily deformities were "satis bella materies ad jocandum."
156
He, also, agrees perfectly with Aristotle, or rather follows him, in his account of the ridiculous: "Locus autem et regio quasi ridiculi TURPITUDINE ET DEFORMITATE QUADAM continetur."
39.
mvp-aristotle-comment-39
NOTE 39.
5.4
P. 73. ITS POETS HAVE BEEN RECORDED.
The original is,
δι ΛΕΓΟΜΕΝΟΙ αυτης ποιηται μνημονευονται
: the only fair translation of which, I think, is,
"they who are called its Poets."
But as it seems not easy to find any reasonable meaning
for this, I have not translated the word at all. The text is probably corrupt.
Castelvetro
conjectured, very ingeniously,
ΟΛΙΓΟΙ ΜΕΝ ΟΙ ΑΥΤΗΣ ποιηται
.—But this Greek,
όλιγοι οι ποιηται
, is, I fear, what the critics call,
πονηρκ κομματα
. I will venture to mention another conjecture that has occurred to me. The learned reader will dispose of it as he pleases. It seems not improbable that Aristotle wrote,
Ηδη δε σχηματα τινα αυτης ἐχεσης ΟΙΑ ΛΕΓΟΜΕΝ, ΟΙ αυτης, &c.
i. e.
"When it had acquired a certain form, such as we say,"
alluding to what he had said of Homer's suggesting, by his
Margites, the true form, or idea, of Comedy, in which the ridiculous was substituted for the mere invective of the old Iambic, or Satyric form.
Τα της κωμωδίας ΣΧΗΜΑΤΑ πρωτο ὑπεδειξεν, ἐ ψογον, άλλα ΤΟ ΓΕΛΟΙΟΝ δραματοποιησας,
[cap. iv.]
See, also, what he says immediately after, of the forms (
σχηματα
) of Tragedy and Comedy being
ἐντιμοτερα
, in higher credit and esteem, than those of the old satirical and encomiastic poems which preceded them: for this seems to accord with what he here says, that Comedy was neglected till it attained something of this its proper form, and aimed at its proper object, the ridiculous. The reader will see the connection :
Ἡ δε κωμῳδια, δια το ΜΗ ΣΠΟΥΔΑΖΕΣΘΑΙ ἐξ ἀρχης, ἐλαθεν. ——ΗΔΗ ΔΕ ΣΧΗΜΑΤΑ τίνα αυτης ἐχεσης ὉΙΑ ΛΕΓΟΜΕΝ, ΟΙ αυτης ποιηται μνημονευονται
.—This differs from the present reading only by the insertion of a single letter,
Δ
, which might easily have been omitted, from its resemblance to the
Α
that follows.
40.
mvp-aristotle-comment-40
NOTE 40.
We are not, I think, to look for a sense of the word
Προλογο
, as here applied to Comedy, different from that, in which it is applied,
ch. xii.
[Transl. Part II. Sect. 10.]
to Tragedy. In both, it was that introductory part of the drama, the business of which was, to give the spectator, either directly, in its very outlet, or, more obliquely, in the course of it, so much information relative to the subject of the piece, as would enable him to follow the action without confusion.
157
This we learn clearly from the following passage in that part of Aristotle's
Rhetoric
, where he explains and illustrates the oratorical exordium, by a comparison of it with that of the Epic Poem, and with the prologue of a drama. After giving, as examples, the openings of the
Iliad and
Odyssey, he goes on:—
και οι Τραγικοι δηλεσι περι το δραμα, καν μη ευθυς, ώσπερ Ευριπίδης, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν ΤΩΙ ΠΡΟΛΟΓΩ γε ΠΟΥ δηλοι, ώσπερ και Σοφοκλης ---ΚΑΙ Ἡ ΚΩΜΩΔΙΑ ΩΣΑΥΤΩΣ
[Rhet. iii. 14.]
.
158
—This clearly excludes the separate prologue, such as that of the Roman Comedy; and it is, also, irreconcilable with
Dacier's
idea, that by the prologue, in the passage we are considering, Aristotle meant what was afterwards called the
Parabasis ; for this was merely an address from the Poet to the audience, through the mouth of the Chorus, occurring indifferently in any part of the play, and even, sometimes, at the end of it.
159
It seems to differ from the prologue of the Roman Comedy, and of the modern drama, only in its being delivered by the Chorus, and in the body of the piece.
Tragedy, according to the usual account of it, seems to have consisted, at first, only of two parts, the
Χορικον
, and
Επεισοδίον
, and to have begun and ended with those choral songs, which were then esteemed the essential part of Tragedy. But, afterwards, these scanty fables,
μικροι μυθοι
, as Aristotle calls them, were drawn out to their proper size , not only by introducing a greater variety of episodic incidents , but by prefixing to the first choral song, (or to the first speech of the entire chorus, according to Aristotle's account of the Parode, cap. xii.) the introductory part called
Προλογού
, and adding, after the last, the concluding part called
Έξοδος
. The case was probably the same with Comedy. The Phallic songs, from which it received its birth, were, I suppose, regarded originally as the essential part of the Comic drama, in the same manner as the Bacchic hymns were of the Tragic. Aristotle plainly speaks of Comedy, as having gradually received similar additions and improvements to those of Tragedy ; and, among these, that of the
Προλογά
. That such an introductory part, or act, which should be, as Aristotle expresses it,
δειγμα λογε
, and
ὁδοποιησις τῳ ἐπιοντι
, was indeed still more necessary to Comedy than to Tragedy, is obvious from the very nature of the former drama.
The nature and office of the Greek prologue, and its two different manners, are, I observe, very exactly expressed by
Terence
in the conclusion of his separate prologue to the
Adelphi ; as they are also very well exemplified in the two first scenes.
Dehinc, ne expectetis argumenta fabulæ. Senes qui primi venient, hi, partem aperient, In agendo partem oftendent.
That is, as I understand it, part of the plot they will open to you in the way of direct narration, like the prologues of Euripides, (as, in the soliloquy of Mitio,) and part they will discover in a more oblique and dramatic way, in the scene of action and dialogue that follows:
"In agendo partem oftendent."
I ventured, in a former note, to say, that the Greek Tragedy appeared to me to have retained, with all its improvements, some traces of its origin. Something of this may be perceived, I think, in the very opening of many of the Greek dramas: but especially in those of
Euripides
, whose inartificial prologues of explanatory narration, addressed directly to the spectators, remind us of the state of Tragedy previous to the introduction of the dialogue ; when it consisted only of a story told between the acts, (if I may so speak,) of the Dithyrambic Chorus, which was then the main body and substance of the entertainment. When I read the opening of the
Hecuba:
ΗΚΩ, νεκρων κευθμωνα και σκοτε πύλας Διπων, ἐν᾿ Αδης χωρις ᾠκισται θεων, ΠΟΛΥΔΩΡΟΣ, Εκαβης παις γεγως της Κίσσέως Πριαμέτε πατρα κ. τ. αλ.
Hec. v. 1.
160
—that of the
Perfe of
Æschylus
:—
ΤΑΔΕ μεν Περσων των διχομενων Ελλαδ᾽ ἐις άναν πιστα καλείται.
Pers. v. 1.
—or, even the—
ΑΥΤΟΣ ὧδ᾽ ἐληλυθα Ο ΠΑΣΙ ΚΛΕΙΝΟΣ ΟΙΔΙΠΟΥΣ ΚΑΛΟΥΜΕΝΟΣ
Oed. Tyr. v. 7.
—of
Sophocles
, I cannot help thinking of the single actor of
Thespis
, announcing his own name and family, and telling the simple tale of his achievements or misfortunes.
This sort of direct explanation was afterwards, with much more propriety, taken from the persons of the drama, and consigned to the actors in a detached prologue, such as those of
Plautus
and
Terence
: a practice, which, if we did not know the attachment of
Ben Jonson
to every thing antient, we might suspect he meant to ridicule, by the pleasant use he has made of it in the prologue to his puppet-shew of Hero and Leander, in the
Bartholomew Fair.
"Gentles, that no longer your expectations may wander, Behold our chief actor, amorous Leander, With a great deal of cloth lapp'd about him like a scarf, For he yet serves his father, a dyer at Puddle-wharf," &c.
The next, and the last step, in the history of Prologues, was again to leave the argument, as it had been left by Sophocles, to the oblique information and gradual development of the action itself, and to make the separate prologue subservient to other purposes, unconnected with the subject of the drama. The worst of these purposes, and the greatest possible abuse of the term, is to be found in what is called the Prologue of the
French Opera
; which is wholly composed of two ingredients, almost equally disgusting to a just poetical, or moral taste—allegory and adulation.
41.
mvp-aristotle-comment-41
NOTE 41.
5.5
P. 73. EPICHARMUS AND PHORMIS FIRST INVENTED COMIC FABLES.
Dacier
, here, raises unnecessary difficulties. His positive assertion, that, in the old and middle Comedy,
"Il n'y avoit rien de feint,"
is surprising. The slightest inspection of
Aristophanes
will confute it. Was it, then, a fact, that
Socrates
used to be suspended in a basket for the benefit of aerial meditation? and that Æschylus and Euripides weighed their verses in a pair of scales, to decide, by that means, a contest or superiority, after they were dead? &c..
161
Μυθες ποιειν
, is clearly to invent plots or subjects; and whatever is invented, or feigned, is, in Aristotle's language,
καθολε
, or general, as opposed to a strictly historical plot, which is
καθ ἐκαστον
, particular.
162
The expression, therefore, which Aristotle presently after uses, in speaking of
Crates
,
ἀφεμενα της ιαμβικης ίδεας, καθολα ποιειν λογες μυθες
, I understand to be no more than the development of the shorter expression which preceded,
μυθες ποιειν
. He does not say, that Crates was the first Poet, but only the first Athenian Poet, who invented such comic subjects. The distinction seems clearly marked:
το μεν ἐν ἐξ ἀρχης ἐκ ΣΙΚΕΛΙΑΣ ἦλθε : ΤΩΝ ΔΕ ΑΘΗΝΗΣΙ, Κρατης πρωτο κ. τ. αλλ.
.
42.
mvp-aristotle-comment-42
NOTE 42.
5.7
P. 74. EPIC POETRY AGREES SO FAR WITH TRAGIC, &C.
Of the corruption of this passage I have no doubt. It has been proposed to eject the words,
μετα λογε
. My suspicion rather falls upon the word
μετρε
; which, as it adds nothing but embarrassment to the sense, (
λογο
, speech, or words, being a general term, and including metre, as in
ch. i.
) I have omitted. It appears to me, likewise, that the only meaning, which can reasonably be given to the expression,
μεχρι ΜΟΝΟΥ μετρα
, is—as far as metre alone; i. e.
"without considering the other means of imitation, melody and rhythm."
And, accordingly, some commentators, by
μετρον ῾ΑΠΛΟΥΝ
, understand verse alone, without music. But had this been Aristotle's meaning, he would probably have used the appropriated and clear word,
$\psi u\lambda ov$
. The proper and obvious sense of
μετρον άπλεν
, is, a simple, or single, kind of metre.
163
This sense seems also supported by what he says of the metrical difference of the Epic and Tragic Poems, cap. xxiv. where melody and rhythm are not taken into the comparison, but the different kinds of metre only, and their being one, or many:—
ἐι γαρ τις ἐν ἀλλῳ τινι μετρῳ διηγηματικην μιμησιν ποιοιτο, ἐν ΠΟΛΛΟΙΣ, ἀπρεπες ἂν φαινοιτο.
And farther, that Aristotle did not mean to express by
μετρον άπλεν
, the exclusion of melody and rhythm, appears the more probable, because he sufficiently expresses this presently afterwards, when he says, that some of the parts of Tragedy were peculiar to it. Now these parts are no other than the decoration, (
oψις
), and the
Melopæia, which included melody and rhythm.
On the whole, it seems not improbable, that the passage originally stood in some such way as this:
Ἡ μεν ἐν Εποποϊία τη Τραγω δια μέχρι μονα ΤΟΥ μετα λογε μιμησιΝ ἐἶναι σπεδαιων ἠκολεθησεν.
43.
mvp-aristotle-comment-43
NOTE 43.
5.9
P. 74. THIS, AT FIRST, WAS EQUALLY THE CASE WITH TRAGEDY ITSELF.
It seems to have been taken for granted, without any foundation, by
Dacier
, and other commentators, that the modern rule, (for an antient rule it certainly is not,) of what is called the
unity of time, was strictly adhered to in every period of the Greek drama: and this has led them, in this passage, to confound the length of the action, or fable, with that of the representation ; for these, where a strict unity of time is observed, are indeed the same. But Aristotle here says plainly, that in the earliest state of Tragedy, no rule at all, with respect to the time of the action, was observed ; that it was not only allowed to exceed
"a single revolution of the sun,"
but was
like that of the Epic Poem. This evidently cannot be applied, without absurdity, to the time of representation. Yet so it is applied by Dacier in his note on this passage, p. 70.
But it appears farther, I think, from what is said, and plainly said, in this chapter, that, after all we have heard so often about this famous unity of time, the rule receives not the least support from Aristotle's authority. Every one, who knows how much stress has been laid by modern critics on the three dramatic unities, and happens not to be well acquainted with Aristotle's treatise on Poetry, would, I suppose, naturally take it for granted, that they are all explicitly laid down, and enforced by him, as essential and indispensable laws, in that famous code of dramatic criticism. But the fact is, that, of these three rules, the only one that can be called important—that of the
unity of action—is, indeed, clearly laid down and explained, and, with great reason, considered by him as indispensable.
Of the two other unities, that of
place is not once mentioned, or even hinted, in the whole book ; and all that is said, respecting the time of the action, is said in this chapter, and in these words:
"Tragedy endeavours, as far as possible, to confine its action within the limits of a single revolution of the sun, or nearly so."
164
Almost all the commentators seem agreed in understanding the expression,
μια περιοδου ήλιε
, to mean only an artificial day. But I own I could never yet perceive any good reason, why we should not permit Aristotle to mean what he seems, in plain terms, to say. If he meant only twelve hours, why did he prefer an expression so ambiguous, to say the least of it, as
μιαν περιοδον ήλιε
, to the clear and obvious expression of
μιαν ΗΜΕΡΑΝ
? —But, to wave this question, the utmost, which the most strenuous advocates for the unity of time can make of this passage, is this—that the Poet should endeavour, as far as possible, to confine the supposed time of the action to that of a single day, or nearly so. Now it seems allowed, that none of the Greek Tragedies extant could have taken up, in the representation, more than three or four hours. What Aristotle, therefore, here says, is so far from being a rule for the unity of time, that, on the contrary, it is saying as plainly as possible, that, in his view, it was no duty incumbent on the dramatic Poet even to aim at the observance of such a rule: for, had he thought otherwise, his mode of expression would, surely, have been very different. He would have proposed the strict unity of time—the exact coincidence of the actual time of representation with the supposed time of the action—as the point of perfection, at which the Poet was to aim: he would have said,
"Tragedy endeavours, as far as possible, to confine its action within the time of representation, or nearly so."
It is certain, indeed, that the nature of the drama, strictly and rigorously considered, would require, I will not say, to the perfection, but to the closeness, of its imitation, the exact coincidence here mentioned ; and it is on this foundation only, that any rule at all relative to time could be necessary, and that the dramatic Poet could, with any reason, be denied the privilege of the Epic. All I contend for is, that Aristotle has no where required such a coincidence ; that he has not even mentioned it; much less has he, either here, or in any other part of his work, enjoined it as a rule. His rule is, as generally understood,
"confine your action, as nearly as you can, to a single day;"
—or, as I think, in conformity to his plain words, it should be understood—
"to a single revolution of the sun, or twenty-four hours."
165
It may, perhaps, be objected, that Aristotle has not delivered this in the form of a rule ; that he only refers to fact, and to the usual practice of the dramatic Poets of his time.
"Tragedy endeavours,"
&c. But, surely, to mention the general practice of Poets with seeming approbation, or, at least, without a word to the contrary, is, in fact, to erect that practice, (as he has done on many other occasions throughout his treatise,) into a rule. It is sufficient for my purpose, that, at least, he has given no other rule. Moreover, what he here says of the practice of the Greek dramatists, seems somewhat adverse to the language of those modern critics, who so often appeal, if I mistake not, to that very practice, for the support of their rigorous unity of time. For, if his expression does not prove, that he thought the rule of a single revolution of the sun the only rule which the Poets ought to observe, it surely proves, because it actually says, that he thought it the only rule, which, in general, they did observe.
But what says
Dacier
?
"Une Tragedie, pour être parfaite, ne doit occuper ni plus, ni moins de tems, pour l'action, que pour la representation; car elle est alors dans toute la vraisemblance. Les Tragiques Grecs L'ONT TOUJOURS PRATIQUE."
What he adds, it seems not very easy to comprehend:
"Et ils s'en font fait une loi si indispensable, que pour ne la pas violer, ils ont quelquefois violentè leurs incidens, d'une maniere que je ne conseillerois pas de suivre:"
i. e. in plain English, (for I can make nothing else of it,)
"they have so scrupulously adhered to the rule, that, sometimes, for the sake of observing it, they have been obliged to break it."
p. 118.
I believe, every reader, who, in perusing the Greek Tragedians, has taken the pains to examine this matter, must be sensible, that what Dacier so confidently asserts, of their constant adherence to this rule, is palpably false. I shall only mention one remarkable instance of the utter neglect of it, and that in
SOPHOCLES
; who, in this, as in other respects, is usually regarded, I think, as the most correct and regular of the three Greek Poets whose Tragedies are in our hands. In his
Trachiniae, v. 632, Lichas sets out to carry the poisoned garment to Hercules, whom he finds upon the Cenaean promontory, which is said to be about sixty Italian miles from the scene of the action. At v. 734, Hyllus, who was present when his father received the garment, arrives with the terrible relation of its effects. Thus, during the performance of about a hundred lines, a journey of about one hundred and twenty Italian miles is supposed to have been taken. For this, and other instances of the same kind, I must content myself with referring the reader to the sensible and well written
Estratto della Poetica d'Aristotile
, published among the posthumous works of
Metastasio
, and which did not fall into my hands till all my notes were written. It contains many ingenious and sagacious observations. The subject of the dramatic unities, in particular, is discussed at large, and, I think, in a very masterly and satisfactory way. And, with respect to the strict unities of time and place, he seems perfectly to have succeeded in shewing, that no such rules were imposed on the Greek Poets by the critics, or by themselves;—nor are imposed on any Poet, either by the nature, or the end, of the dramatic imitation itself.
166
It would be inexcusable to quit this subject without reminding the reader, that the unities of time and place, were long ago powerfully, and, in my opinion, unanswerably combated, as far as their principles are concerned, by
Dr. Johnson, in his preface to Shakspeare, p. 20, &c.
44.
mvp-aristotle-comment-44
NOTE 44. P. 75.
6.2
IN THE WAY, NOT OF NARRATION, BUT OF ACTION.
It is surprising, that so strange a phrase as
ειδων --- δρωντων
—
formis---agentibus
—should have passed as genuine with any Greek scholar. It is still more so, that the obvious opposition of
δρωντων
to
ἀπαγγελια
, and the no less obvious absurdity of opposing narration to pity and terror, (
δι' ἀπαγγελιας, ΑΛΛΑ δ᾽ ἐλεου και φοβου
) should have escaped the notice of any commentator.—I should write the passage thus; still considering it as imperfect:—
χωρις ἐκαστου των ειδων ἐν τοις μοριοις * * * [forte ΔΙΑ] δρωντων και ου δι' ἀπαγγελιας
167
* * * * ἀλλα δι' ἐλεου και φοβου, κ. τ. αλ.
Thus the word
δρωντων
will retain its proper sense, and the active imitation of the drama, which Aristotle every where makes its characteristic distinction, as opposed to the Epic, will be, as we might expect to find it, in a formal and exact definition of Tragedy, distinctly marked.
I will just observe, farther, that this mode of expression—
δρωντων ΚΑΙ ΟΥ δι' ἀπ.
is familiar to Aristotle. Here however it may be justified by the necessity of marking clearly the distinction between Dramatic and Epic Poetry. In other instances, as,
ἑτερως και μη τον αυτον τροπον.
cap. i.
ὡς τον αυτον και μη μεταβαλλοντα.
cap. iii.
ειδως και μη ἀγνοων.
Eth. Nic. v. 8.
it seems hardly to admit of the same excuse. In the Poets we are less surprised to find it frequent.
Victorius has pointed out
Homer, Il. Z. 333.
ἐπει με κατ᾿ ἀισαν ἐνεικεσας, ἐδ᾽ ὑπερ αισαν.
—and
Sophocles:
Oed. Tyr. 58.
γνωτα, κ'ουκ ἀγνωτα μοι Προσηλθεθ' ίμειροντες.
If any man, in reading the ancients, can persuade himself to take such things for beauties, there is certainly no harm in it. The fact I take to be, that composition, even that of Poetry, was not yet so far improved and refined, as perfectly to exclude the inaccuracies and redundancies of popular and familiar speech.
45.
mvp-aristotle-comment-45
NOTE 45. P. 75.
6.2
EFFECTING, THROUGH PITY AND TERROR, THE CORRECTION AND REFINEMENT OF SUCH PASSIONS.
Δι' ἐλεου και φοβου περαινουσα την των τοιουτων παθηματων καθαρσιν.
A history of the controversies which this obscure passage has excited among critics and commentators, and an exact statement and examination of the various explanations which have been given of it, would almost fill a volume. Among these, however, the opinions, that are worth regarding, or that can, with any show of probability, be deduced from Aristotle's expression, are, I think, reducible to two.
One is, that this purgation, or moderation, of the passions, is merely the effect of having them frequently excited, and of being familiarized with the occasions of them, in Tragic fiction; just as the passions of pity and terror are actually purged, or reduced to moderation, in a surgeon, a physician, or a soldier, by their being accustomed to those terrible or piteous objects that occasion them.
The other interpretation attributes the effect to the moral lesson and example of the drama: Tragedy purges the passions by the striking pictures it sets before us of the dreadful calamities occasioned by the unrestrained indulgence of them; by giving useful warnings, and preparing us to bear the ills of life with patience.
One, or the other, or both, of these meanings, have, I think, been attributed to Aristotle by the best commentators and critics. For the first, the reader may see
Mr. Harris's Disc. on Music, Painting, &c. ch. v. note
.—
Heinf. De Trag. Const. cap. ii. p. 22, 23
. and
Castelvetro, p. 117, 118
. For the second,
Madius;—
D'Alembert in his letter to Rousseau, Melanges, tom. ii. p. 414
.—
Dryden, Obs. on the Æneid
—
Abbè Du Bos, Refl. sur la Poesie, tom. i. sect. 44, &c
. For an explanation compounded of the two,
Robortelli,
Piccolomini, and
Dacier, who, by the way, after declaring that all the explanations of former commentators
"servaient only to obscure the passage,"
and that the true sense was not to be found in any of them, proceeds to give us, as that true sense, and as his own discovery, exactly what had been said before him.
Let us first see what Aristotle says. He says, that Tragedy, by the means of pity and terror, effects the purgation (
καθαρσιν
) of such passions: i. e. of pity and terror and other passions of the same kind: for pity and terror seem clearly meant, by the expression, to be included in the effect.
168
And this, in my opinion, is sufficient
to overturn the second of the explanations just mentioned; for, according to that, terror and pity are not both the means and the object of the purgation, as Aristotle, I think, asserts them to be, but they are the means only of purging other passions—those passions, whatever they may be, which are supposed to produce the calamitous events exhibited to our view. Indeed, according to this idea, the object is rather the vice that arises from passion, than the passion itself which is the cause of it. But, besides this objection, I do not see any reason to think, that the moral lesson of the drama, and the effects it might have in moderating our passions through the reflections it excites in us, were at all in Aristotle's thoughts
169
.
The first of the two explanations seems far more admissible. I believe it made a part of his idea, but I doubt whether it was the whole of it. What was precisely his meaning, and the whole of his meaning, will never, I fear, be the subject of a perfect, Stoical
καταληψις
to any man. There is, however, one passage in Aristotle's works, which throws some little light upon this; enough, at least, to keep us from false interpretations, if not to lead us to the true. It is in the
seventh chapter of his eighth book De Republica
. The Abbé Batteux is the only commentator I know of, who has paid a proper attention to this passage; but as I do not perfectly agree with him, either as to the translation he has given, or the use he makes of it, I shall produce so much of the original as appears to be of any importance to our present purpose, and subjoin a translation, with some necessary remarks.
The object of Aristotle, in the chapter referred to, is, to examine what kinds of Music (i. e. of melody and rhythm,) are proper to be used in the education of youth. He mentions and approves a division, made by some philosophical writers of that time, of the different kinds of melodies, into Moral, Active, and Enthusiastic:
τα μεν ΗΘΙΚΑ, τα δε ΠΡΑΚΤΙΚΑ, τα δ' ΕΝΘΟΥΣΙΑΣΤΙΚΑ.
By the first of these we are to understand a manly, grave, and simple
melody. The sense of
πρακτικα
is less clear; but I suppose it means a more complicated and imitative sort of melody, adapted to express human actions; for, in the
49th of the Harmonic Problems [Sect. 19.]
it is said of the Hypo-Phrygian mode, that it had
ἠθος πρακτικον
, and was, on that account, used only in the dialogue and action of the drama, never in the choral part.
170
And the same epithet,
πρακτικον
, is applied, in this treatise, to the Iambic measure.
171
As to enthusiastic, it wants no explanation. Aristotle then proceeds to observe, that "Music was to be used, not for one useful purpose only, but for several," which he enumerates; and one of them is—
ΚΑΘΑΡΣΕΩΣ ἐνεκα
: with respect to which he says—
τι δε λεγομεν την καθαρσιν, νυν μεν, άπλως παλιν δε, ΕΝ ΤΟΙΣ ΠΕΡΙ ΠΟΙΗΤΙΚΗΣ, ἐρουμεν σαφεστερον
: "What I mean by
Καθαρσις
, or purgation, I shall now explain only in a short and general way; but hereafter, in the books concerning Poetry, more explicitly and clearly."—And this, I suppose, he had done, in that part of this treatise which is lost.—He then proceeds thus:
Φανερον, ότι χρηστεον μεν πασαις ταις ἁρμονιαις, ου τον αυτον δε τροπον πασαις χρηστεον· άλλα προς μεν την παιδειαν, ταις ἠθικωταταις· προς δε ἀκροασιν [f. ΚΑΘΑΡΣΙΝ], ἐτερων χειρουργουντων, και ταις πρακτικαις, και ταις ἐνθουσιαστικαις. ὁ γαρ περι ἐνιας συμβαινει παθος ψυχας ἰσχυρως, τουτο ἐν πασαις ὑπαρχει, τῳ δε ήττον διαφερει και τῳ μαλλον. οἷον, ΕΛΕΟΣ ΚΑΙ ΦΟΒΟΣ. ἐτι δ᾽ ἐνθουσιασμος· και γαρ ὑπο ταυτης της κινησεως κατακωχιμοι τινες εισιν. ἐκ δε των ἱερων μελων ὁρωμεν τουτους, όταν χρησωνται τοις ἐξοργιαζουσι την ψυχην μελεσι, καθισταμενους, ώσπερ ΙΑΤΡΕΙΑΣ τυχοντας και ΚΑΘΑΡΣΕΩΣ. ταυτο δη τουτο ἀναγκαιον πασχειν και τας ἐλεημονας, και τους φοβητικους, και τους όλως παθητικους· τους δ᾽ ἄλλους, καθ᾽ όσον ἐπιβαλλει των τοιουτων ἐκαστῳ, και πασι γιγνεσθαι ΤΙΝΑ ΚΑΘΑΡΣΙΝ, και κουφιζεσθαι μεθ' ήδονης.
[
p. 458. Ed. Duval.
]
172
In this passage, for
ἀκροασιν
I have no doubt that we should read
καθαρσιν
. The similitude of the words is sufficient to account for the mistake of the transcriber; and the purport of the whole passage seems to require the correction. For Aristotle is here showing, in what manner the three different kinds of melody were to be applied to the different purposes, which he had just enumerated:
προς ΜΕΝ την ΠΑΙΔΕΙΑΝ, ταις ήθικ.
προς ΔΕ την ΚΑΘΑΡΣΙΝ,—ταις πρακτικαις,
&c. The opposition is clear. And so, afterwards, a third purpose is mentioned—
προς ΑΝΑΠΑΥΣΙΝ.
[p. 459.] The words immediately following,
ἐτερων χειρουργουντων
, probably contributed to this mistake. They allude to his doctrine, in the preceding chapter, that boys should not be allowed to practice or perform, themselves, any but the simplest kind of Music, and upon the sim-
plest and easiest instruments, such as were not
δεομενα χειρουργικης ἐπιστημης.
[p. 457.] But this was not the character either of the active and enthusiastic melodies, of which he here speaks, or of the instrument used in the accompaniment of them
173
.
I shall now give what I think a fair and literal version of the passage.—
"It is manifest then, that all the different kinds of melodies are to be made use of; not all, however, for the same purpose. For education, the most moral kind should be used: for PURGATION, both the active, and the enthusiastic; performed, however, by others. For those passions, which in some minds are violent, exist, more or less, in all; such as PITY, for example, and TERROR: and, again, enthusiasm; for with this passion some men are subject to be possessed: but when the sacred melodies, intended to compose the mind after the celebration of the orgic rites, have been performed, we see those men become calm and sedate, as if they had undergone a kind of purgation, or cure. And the case must necessarily be the same with those who are particularly liable to be moved by PITY, or TERROR, or any other passion; and with other men, as far as they are under the influence of any such passion; all of them experiencing a sort of PURGATION, and PLEASURABLE RELIEF."
From this passage, though far enough, I am sensible, from being perfectly clear and explicit, two things, at least, may, I think, be confidently deduced. 1. That whatever be the meaning of the term
καθαρσις
, or purgation, here, must also be its meaning in the treatise on Poetry; since to that work Aristotle refers for a fuller explanation of it. The only difference is, that here, the term is applied to the effect of imitative Music; there, to that of imitative Poetry; of that species of it, however, which depended, we know, upon Music, for a very considerable part of
its effect. 2. It is plain, that, according to Aristotle's idea, pity was to be purged by pity, terror by terror, &c.; contrary to the second of the two explanations above mentioned. For Aristotle is here expressly speaking of the use of enthusiastic Music applied
προς καθαρσιν
; and he says, that men, agitated by enthusiasm, were purged or relieved from that enthusiasm by the
ἱερα μελη
, which were plainly enthusiastic melodies; i. e. such as imitated, or expressed, that passion, and were intended to calm the mind, which had been violently agitated and inflamed; not, as M. Batteux understands, by the sudden opposition of Doric, grave, and moral strains, [p. 280, 1.] but by pleasurable indulgence of the same passion in imitative Music:
κουφιζεσθαι μεθ᾽ ἡδονης.
These melodies were, probably, such as those of
Olympus, which had been mentioned just before [cap. 5.] and of which Aristotle says, that they,
Ὁμολογουμενως ΠΟΙΕΙ ΤΑΣ ΨΥΧΑΣ ΕΝΘΟΥΣΙΑΣΤΙΚΑΣ.
Indeed, from the manner, in which the Music of Olympus is spoken of by
Plato, and
Plutarch, there is great reason to suppose, that these "sacred melodies" were no other, than the very melodies of that musician
174
.
With respect to this
καθαρσις
itself, Aristotle by no means gives us in this passage, nor, indeed, professes to give us, a full and satisfactory explanation of it. Some light, however, he has flung upon it by the expressions,
ἰατρεια
, and
κουφιζεσθαι μεθ᾽ ἡδονης
, which he uses as synonymous to
καθαρσις
: "Purgation, cure, pleasurable relief." The Abbé Batteux understands Aristotle to mean no more by this, than that the passions of terror or pity, which, when excited by real objects, are simply painful, or, at least, have a predominant mixture of pain, are, by imitation, and the consciousness of fiction, purged or purified from this alloy of the disagreeable and painful,
and converted, on the whole, into an emotion of delight. His meaning may be clearer in his own words. Aristotle, he says, had established it as a principle—
"Que les objets désagréables plaisent quand ils sont imités, même lorsqu'ils le font dans la plus grande verité. En appliquant ce principe à la Tragedie, il s'ensuit, que c'est l'imitation qui est la cause du plaisir qu'elle produit, et non la nature des objets imités, puisque ces objets sont par eux-mêmes désagréables. C'est donc l'imitation qui ôte à la terreur et à la pitié l'accessoire désagréable qu'elles ont dans la realité: c'est l'imitation qui opere la purgation Tragique, en mettant les malheurs imités à la place des malheurs réels, et en séparant par ce moyen ce que la pitié et la terreur ont d'agréable, comme emotions, d'avec ce qu'elles ont de désagréable, quand elles font jointes à l'idée de malheurs réels."
175
This account, which is exactly
Fontenelle's solution of the pleasure arising from Tragic emotion
176
, is liable to a difficulty not easily, I think, surmounted. It confines Aristotle's meaning to the present pleasure of the emotion; it supposes all the purgation to consist merely in rendering the feeling of the passion pleasurable; not in any good effect which the habit of such emotion may produce, in correcting, refining, or moderating, such passions, when excited by real objects. Now, though it must be confessed, that Aristotle has not, in that short and professedly imperfect explanation given of the
καθαρσις
in the passage adduced, said any thing directly pointing to such effect, yet, I think, the whole turn and cast of his expression is such, as leads one naturally to conclude, that it was his meaning. The phrase,
κουφιζεσθαι μεθ' ήδονης
, does indeed appear to express the present effect only; but I can scarce conceive, that he would have
used such a word as
καθαρσις
, and still less,
ΙΑΤΡΕΙΑ
, without a view to something beyond the pleasurable relief or vent of the moment; especially, in a chapter, where he is professedly enumerating and examining the uses of music
177
. Farther, the words,
ἐλεημονας, φοβητικους, παθητικους
, confirm this idea; being all words expressive of habitual excess, requiring correction and moderation
178
.
But, what still more strongly opposes the Abbé Batteux's idea, is, that Aristotle is here, as Heinsius and others have well observed, evidently combating the doctrine of
Plato, whose great objection to Tragedy, was, that it feeds and inflames the passions
179
. It could be no answer to this, to allege, that the feeling of passion excited by Tragic imitation is pleasurable; for this is so far from being called in question by Plato, that it is the very foundation of his objection. The pleasure afforded by such Poetry is allowed by him in its utmost extent
180
. "Let its advocates," he says, "undertake to show us that it is not merely pleasurable, but USEFUL also, and we will lend a favourable ear to their apology; for we shall surely be gainers by the conviction."
181
Now Aristotle, if I understand him rightly, undertakes this apology, and points out the utility required. And no one, I think, can reasonably doubt, that such was his intention, who has attended to the following passage of Plato:—
ἀπολαυειν ἀναγκη ἀπο των ἀλλοτριων εις τα οικεια· ΘΡΕΨΑΝΤΑ γαρ ἐν ἐκεινοις ΙΣΧΥΡΟΝ ΤΟ ΕΛΕΕΙΝΟΝ, ου ραδιον ἐν τοις ΑΥΤΟΥ ΠΑΘΕΣΙ ΚΑΤΕΧΕΙΝ
182
. For, to this objection, there cannot well be a more direct and pointed answer, than Aristotle's assertion, as usually understood—that the habit of indulging the emotions of pity, or terror, in the fictitious representations of Tragedy, tends, on the contrary, to moderate and refine those passions, when they occur in real life.
But though the Abbé Batteux's idea of this purgation appears to me by no means to be the whole, it must, I think, be admitted as a part, and an essential part, of Aristotle's meaning. For the effect depends, not merely, as some commentators seem to suppose
183
, on the having our passions frequently and habitually excited, but, on the having them so excited by fictitious representation. Pity and terror frequently excited by such objects and such events in real life, as the imitations of the Tragic scene set before us, would rather tend to produce apathy than moderation. Nature would struggle against such violent and painful agitation, and the heart would become callous in its own defence. We must be insensible, that we might not be wretched. It is far otherwise with fictitious passion. There, the emotion, though often violent in spite of the consciousness of fiction, is always, more or less, delightful. We indulge it, as one of the first of pleasures; and the effect of that indulgence, frequently repeated, is perhaps, that, while it moderates real passion by the frequency of similar impressions, it, at the same time, cherishes such sympathetic emotions, in their proper and useful degree, by the delicious feelings which never fail to accompany the indulgence of them in imitative representation.
The passions of savages, or of men in the first rude stages of civilization, are ferocious and painful. They pity, or they fear, either violently, or not at all. With them, there is hardly any medium between ungovernable agitation, and absolute insensibility.—Suppose such a people to have access, like the Athenians, to theatrical representations, and to have their passions kept in frequent and pleasurable exercise by fictitious distress; the consequence, I think, would be, that, by degrees, they would come to have more feeling, and less perturbation. Instead of sympathetic emotions rarely excited, painfully felt, and soon extinguished, they would gradually acquire a calm, lasting, and useful habit of general tenderness and sensibility. In polished society, where the passions are accustomed to be indulged in fiction, either in the theatre, or by reading, and the pain is converted, on the whole, into one strong and delightful feeling, by the charms of imitation, Poetry, Music, aided by the indistinct consciousness of fiction—these passions, even when excited by real objects, seem to retain, (at least, in cases where we are not too closely touched,) some tincture of the same pleasurable emotion, which attended them, when raised by works of imagination; they are more moderately and agreeably felt, more easily governed, and more gentle and polished in their expressions.
Such appears to me, on the whole, to be the most probable explanation of Aristotle's meaning: I must, at least, confess it to be the only reasonable meaning, that I am able to discover. How far it is true, and founded on solid observation, is another question, which I willingly submit to the philosophical and thinking part of my readers.
I cannot omit to observe, that the short explanation given by
MILTON, in the introduction to his
Samson Agonistes
, appears to coincide exactly, as far as it goes, with my idea of the passage.—"Tragedy, as it was anciently composed, hath been ever held the gravest, moraleft, and most profitable of all other Poems: therefore said by Aristotle to be of power, by raising pity, and fear or terror, to purge the mind of those and such like passions; that is, to temper and reduce them to just measure, with a kind of delight, stirred up by reading or seeing those passions well imitated." One thing should be added. Aristotle's assertion must be considered relatively to his own times, and nation. He speaks of the effects of Tragedy on the people of Athens, who, as reading was then no popular occupation, had scarce any opportunity of indulging fictitious emotion, but at the Theatre, and who, we know, were there accustomed to indulge it perpetually. With us, the case is widely different. The doctrine, therefore, of Aristotle, that "Tragedy purges the passions," translated, if I may so speak, into modern truth, would perhaps amount only to this—that the habitual exercise of the passions by works of imagination in general, of the serious and pathetic kind, (such as Tragedies, Novels, &c.) has a tendency to soften and refine those passions, when excited by real objects in common life.
46.
mvp-aristotle-comment-46
NOTE 46. P. 75.
6.4
IN SOME PARTS METRE ALONE IS EMPLOYED, IN OTHERS MELODY.
A passage of very tantalizing brevity. By
δια μετρων ΜΟΝΟΝ
, are we to understand, according to the obvious and literal meaning of the expression, that in some parts of Tragedy the verse was merely recited, spoken, as in modern Tragedy? —This contradicts what, by many writers, has been considered as a fact thoroughly established, that the Greek Tragedy was accompanied by musical instruments, and was therefore strictly musical, throughout: —for as to the dreams of the
Abbé Du Bos,
Rousseau, and others, about a noted declamation, a declamation accompanied by Music, yet not sung—this is too manifest an absurdity to stand in need of confutation.
If, as
Rousseau says, it is
"impossible to understand what the ancients have said about their theatrical declamation, without supposing this,"
would it not be better to say, at once, that we do not understand it, than to explain it into impossibilities?
As for the systematic
Abbé Du Bos, he was set upon proving his point; and he proves it like a man resolved to prove it, by wresting all sorts of authors to his purpose, and translating them as he pleased.
184
All we know clearly, is, that the ancient drama was accompanied, (in part, at least,) by musical instruments. I conclude, confidently, that since the instruments could not speak, the actors must sing—that their declamation must certainly have been, strictly speaking, musical, however simple; the chanting of the simplest plain chant, being as truly Music, i. e. as essentially distinct from speech, as the most refined melody of a modern opera.
If, then, the Greek Tragedy had a musical accompaniment throughout, it must have been sung throughout. But here, Aristotle says, as plainly as words can say it, that in some parts of Tragedy, "metre only" was employed: —
δια ΜΕΤΡΩΝ ἐνια ΜΟΝΟΝ
: that is, as it is necessarily implied, without the two other
ήδυσματα
, or seasonings, of Tragic language, just mentioned, melody and rhythm.
185
Some commentators, I know, endeavour to evade the force of this expression, by saying, that Aristotle means, by
δια μετρων μονον
, only the noted declamation, which, being a sort of recitative, was not regarded as strictly musical, nor denominated
μελος
.
And in support of this, it is alleged, that the word
λέξις
, Speech, is applied by him afterwards in a similar manner;
186
as
λεγεσθαι
is also by
Plutarch, who talks of "some of the Iambics being spoken with an accompaniment, and others, sung:
187
as we sometimes say of a singer, that he speaks recitative well. But all this, I confess, does not satisfy me. It is one thing, to apply occasionally the word
λεξις
or
λεγεσθαι
, in this comparative way, to such kind of singing as most resembles speech, and another, to say roundly, that some parts of Tragedy made use of metre, or verse, only; and that too, immediately after having fixed the exclusive sense of
μονον
, by enumerating the three
ήδυσματα
of Tragic diction, which he asserts to be separately used in different parts, i. e.
ῥυθμου, άρμονια, μετρον
, — RHYTHM, MELODY, and METRE.
188
They who dispute this meaning, must at least, I think, allow that if it had been the meaning, Aristotle could not well have expressed it with more precision. How can
μετρων
here be taken in the loose and comparative sense contended for, when, in the very words immediately preceding, it is carefully limited to its strict and proper sense, by being expressly discriminated from melody, as well as from rhythm?
But after all, the fact, that the Greek Tragedy was sung throughout, though often asserted, has not yet been proved; nor do I think that it can be proved; at least, by any passage of ancient authors, that I have seen adduced to prove it. The
Abbé Vatry, in a dissertation,
Sur la recitation des Tragedies anciennes, undertook to prove, in form, that the Greek Tragedies were sung,
"bout à l'autre,"
like our operas.
But how does he prove this?—by proving, what indeed is easily proved,
189
that a part of the Iambics, or the dialogue, was sung, and then by taking it for granted, that the ancients could not possibly have endured so barbarous a custom, as the mixture of speech and singing in the same piece.
"Il ne paroit pas qu'on puisse douter que ces cantiques ne se chantassent; mais de cela même je crois pouvoir conclurre, que tout le reste se chantoit, quoique differemment: car le bon sens, et ce que les anciens nous disent, nous conduit à penser que leur recitation etoit partout de même nature, et qu'elle ne se bigarroit point, tantôt d'une simple declamation, et tantôt d'un chant musical."
By the same presumptive mode of arguing, the Abbé might also have proved,
à priori, that the Greeks could not possibly have been guilty of the modern barbarous
bigarrure of serious and ludicrous, in their Tragic drama. But the first Greek Tragedy he had opened would probably have overturned his reasoning.
A thorough discussion of all the passages of ancient authors, that throw any light upon this question, relative to the dramatic representations of the Greeks, would draw me much too far beyond my bounds. I must content myself with pointing out (for I think it has not been observed,) the stubborn difficulty which this passage of Aristotle appears to me to throw in the way of the common opinion upon this subject; and with hazarding a merely hypothetical conjecture, that, if, as Aristotle seems plainly to say, some part of the Greek Tragedy was spoken, like our Tragic declamation, without any musical accompaniment, it was, most probably, that part of the dialogue, which, as I have before observed, in
NOTE 33
, is, in every Tragedy, easily distinguished from the rest, by its being carried on in a sort of quick repartee of verse to verse. As, in this part of the dialogue, we almost constantly find the Tragic tone lowered to a more colloquial pitch, and even approaching frequently to the jocular and burlesque, it seems reasonable to think, that here, if anywhere, the musical accompaniment, and the elevation of lengthened and chanting tones, were withdrawn, and common conversation left to common speech.
But what, again, are we to understand by—
και παλιν ἐτερα δια μελους
?—Are we to repeat
μονον
, and understand Melody alone, without the two other
ήδυσματα
, Rhythm and Metre? This cannot be. For though we may strip the Tragic language of melody and of rhythm, or, in other words, of Music, we cannot strip it of metre. The ancients most certainly did not admit prose into their Tragedies; and as little can we conceive them to have set prose to Music.
Dacier, and some other commentators, understand by
μελους
here, Music, including rhythm. This sense of the word is certainly warrantable; but it can hardly be the sense here: for, surely, an instance, in which all the three
ήδυσματα
were used, (as they must be, if metre be indispensable, and
μελος
imply rhythm and melody,) would be but a strange illustration of the
ΧΩΡΙΣ ἐκαστου των ειδων
κ. τ. αλ.
I do not see what remains, but, that we take
μελος
here in its most restrained sense, as distinct from rhythm, or time, and synonymous to
άρμονια
; that sense, in which Aristotle had used it before, in his first chapter.
190
191
And if we do this, we must necessarily, I think,
understand, that some parts of the dialogue were sung without rhythm: I mean, without musical rhythm, or time, though certainly not without that poetical or profodic rhythm, by which in reciting verse, and, indeed, even in the most familiar conversation, the syllabic quantity must have been relatively, at least, observed, though not, I presume, with the inflexibility of musical measure, nor with such a rigorous equality of long to long, and short to short, as is essential to the execution of what is properly called Music, and as I suppose to have been observed in the choral odes.
192
Thus the dialogue of the Greek Tragedy will appear to have been not improperly compared to our recitative; differing from the chorus, as our recitative differs from the airs, both in the absence of strict time, and in the kind of melody, which was also, as mere melody, less musical than the choral melody, and more imitative of speech, as well as of action.
193
Whether the monologues, or long speeches—the
μακραι ῥησεις
, as
Plato calls them—were performed in the same way, as the rest of the dialogue, or, as it has been imagined, were distinguished by being more measured and musical, is a point not easily cleared up.
194
The passages commonly appealed to for this purpose, from the grammarians
Diomedes and
Donatus, about the
Cantica of the Roman Comedy, I look upon as a very frail foundation of any conclusion with respect to the Greek Tragedy.
195
The passage of
Plutarch above quoted, note, furnishes the strongest support I know of for such a distinction. For, if by "spoken or recited to an instrumental accompaniment," (
τα μεν [sc. των ἰαμβειων] ΛΕΓΕΣΘΑΙ παρα την κρουσιν
)
Plutarch meant, as I think he must mean, sung in recitative, not literally spoken, (for how could that admit of a musical accompaniment?) then,
ᾳδεσθαι
, which is opposed to it, must of course imply, not mere singing as opposed to speech, but a more musical and measured melody.
47.
mvp-aristotle-comment-47
NOTE 47. P. 76.
6.6
THE MEANING OF MELOPOEIA IS OBVIOUS.
I have ventured to depart from the common interpretation, by understanding the word
δυναμις
, here, to mean, not the power, and effect, of the Melopæia itself, but the power, i. e. the meaning, of the term. Aristotle is here, as usual, explaining the terms he had made use of. It was directly to his purpose to say, as a reason for omitting a definition in this instance, that the meaning of the word was well known; but not at all to his purpose, to say—"I need not explain the word, because the power and effect of the thing signified by it, (that is, of Music,) is well known."
Dacier is amusing here. He wonders what could induce the Greeks to make Music a part of their drama; and at last,
"après bien des recherches,"
he discovers one principal cause to have been this—that they had very musical ears; but he does not dis-
cover the cause of his own wonder, which, in all probability, was, that he had not.
48.
mvp-aristotle-comment-48
NOTE 48. P. 76.
6.8
OR DELIVERING A GENERAL SENTIMENT.
In the
Rhetoric, Aristotle defines
γνωμη
by
καθολου ἀποφανσις
. [
Lib. ii. cap. xxi. p. 572.
] Thus below, in this chapter, for,
ἀποφαινονται γνωμην
, his first expression, we have,
καθολου ἀποφαινονται
. — This has been loosely and inaccurately rendered in all the translations I have seen, except those of
Castelvetro and
Goulston.
49.
mvp-aristotle-comment-49
NOTE 49. P. 76.
6.11
THESE PARTS----HAVE BEEN EMPLOYED BY MOST POETS.
Locus, as the critics say, conclamatus. Time is too precious to be wasted in the support, or refutation, of random conjectures upon a passage of such desperate corruption. How can
οὐκ ὀλιγοι
, "not a few," be tortured into, "all," or, "almost all?" Yet so
Dacier,
Batteux,
Goulston, &c. On the other hand, if fairly translated, "not a few Poets have made use of these parts," how strangely it will follow—"for EVERY Tragedy has them all!"—And how is the
ὡς εἰπειν
, to be applied? to
οὐκ ὀλιγοι
, or, to
ειδεσι
? In the midst of these difficulties, all I could do was to make my version consistent with itself; faithful to the original, I could not make it, without making it nonsensical. Those commentators, who apply the
ὡς εἰπειν
to the word
ειδεσι
, seem favoured by
ch. xii.
where, speaking of the same essential parts of Tragedy, Aristotle says—
οἷς μεν ΩΣ ΕΙΔΕΣΙ δει χρησθαι
.
50.
mvp-aristotle-comment-50
NOTE 50. P. 77.
6.12
THE SUPREME GOOD ITSELF----IS ACTION, NOT QUALITY.
See
Ethic. Nicom. I. 5, 7, 8. ed. Wilk.
&
Mag. Moral. I. 4, p. 149, 150, ed. Duval.
51.
mvp-aristotle-comment-51
NOTE 51. P. 77.
6.15
THE TRAGEDIES OF MOST MODERN POETS HAVE THIS DEFECT.
This receives illustration from what Aristotle presently after says, of "the rhetorical manner prevailing in the Poets of his time:"
οἱ δε νυν, ῥητορικως.
cap. vi:
and from his observation, at the close of
cap. xxiv.
[Transl. Part III. Sect. 6.] that "the manners and sentiments are only obscured by too splendid a diction."
What he has here said of the recent Tragedies of his time, may perhaps be said, in general, of our modern Tragedies, compared with those of
Shakspeare. The truth, I believe, is, that the Tragedy of a refined and polished age will always have less manners than that of ruder times, because it will have more dignity; more of that uniform and level elevation, which excludes strong traits of character, and the simple, unvarnished delineation of the manners. Indeed, what the Greeks denominated
ἦθος
, is the peculiar province of Comedy, and is seldom to be found in Tragedy, except in that stage of its progress, when it is not yet thoroughly and distinctly separated from Comedy;
from the imitation of common life, and natural manners.
196
Such are the Tragedies of
Shakspeare; and such, as I have before ventured to suggest, are those of
Euripides in particular, which, in proportion as they have less dignity, have more
ἦθος
, than the Tragedies of
Sophocles. But in neither of them, nor, probably, even in those very Poets here censured by Aristotle, was the "language of Poets," substituted for "the language of men," as it is almost constantly in the French Tragedy, and too often, in our own Tragedies of the French School.
197
52.
mvp-aristotle-comment-52
NOTE 52. P. 77.
6.15
POLYGNOTUS EXCELS IN THE EXPRESSION OF THE MANNERS.
I see not the smallest reason for the substitution of
ἀγαθων
, for
ἀγαθα
, which is the reading, we are told, of all the MSS. What Aristotle had said before of
Polygnotus,
cap. ii.
—
ότι κρειττους εικαζε
—seems not to afford the slightest ground for alteration here. [See
Mr. Winstanley's ed. p. 281.
] Painters are compared in very different points of view, in these two passages: there, as imitating good or bad, serious or ridiculous, elevated or low, objects: here, only as expressing, or not expressing, manners. It was directly to Aristotle's purpose to say, that
Polygnotus was a "good manner-painter;" (
ἀγαθος ήθογραφος
)—not at all to his purpose, (besides the awkwardness of the expression itself,) to say, that he was a "manner-painter of good men:" (
ἀγαθων ήθογραφος
).
198
53.
mvp-aristotle-comment-53
NOTE 53. P. 77.
6.16
JUST AS IN PAINTING, &c.
I hope I shall not much shock even the most conscientious adherents to the established inaccuracy and authentic blunders of ancient manuscripts, by having ventured to adopt here the transposition first proposed, I believe, by
Castelvetro.
199
I can only desire those readers, who may be alarmed at my temerity, to read the passage—
παραπλησιον γαρ ἐστι—κ. τ. αλλ.—γραφεας, εικονα
,—first, where it stands in all the editions, and then, where I have placed it, immediately after the words—
ἐχουσα δε μυθον και συστασιν πραγματων
.
200
—If this experiment alone be not sufficient to convince them of the propriety, or, rather, the necessity, of the transposition, I despair of the success of any arguments I am able to produce in the support of it. To me, I confess, it is among those things that are too evident for proof.
54.
mvp-aristotle-comment-54
NOTE 54. P. 77.
6.18
ADVENTURERS IN TRAGIC WRITING ARE SOONER ABLE, &C.
Aristotle argues here upon a principle rather rhetorical and popular, than philosophical—that, which infers superior worth from superior difficulty and rarity: —
το χαλεπώτερον και σπανιώτερον, μείζον
, (sc.
αγαθον
,) as he lays it down in his
Rhetoric, lib. i. cap. vii. p. 529.
Lord Bacon, in his
Essay On Gardens, uses the same argument, and almost in Aristotle's words, with respect to the superiority of gardening to architecture:
"A man shall ever see, that when ages grow to civility and elegancy, men come to build stately SOONER than to garden finely; as if gardening were the greater perfection."
The truth, however, of the fact here asserted by Aristotle, appears, not only from the earlier dramatic Poets of every nation, but from the defects of plots in general, whether Dramatic or Epic; and from the rarity of those dramatic fables, for which the Poet has trusted entirely to his own invention, without recourse to history, or novels, or the productions of other dramatists.
201
—
"En general, il y a plus de pieces bien dialoguées, que de pieces bien conduites. Le Génie qui dispose les incidens, paroit plus rare que celui qui trouve les vrais discours. Combien de belles scènes dans Moliere!—On compte ses dénouemens heureux. On seroit tenté de croire qu'une drame devroit être l'ouvrage de deux hommes de génie, l'un qui arrangeât, et l'autre qui fit parler."
—
Diderot, de la Poes. Dram. p. 288.
55.
mvp-aristotle-comment-55
NOTE 55. P. 78.
6.22
TO THIS PART BELONGS, &c.-
Aristotle is not here defining
Διανοἰα
, as his expression,
τουτο δε ΕΣΤΙ
, seems, at first view, to imply: he is only explaining the subservience of the sentiments to the manners; he is shewing why they are next in rank and importance to the manners; namely, because manners or characters, are, in great part at least, manifested by the sentiments.
Dacier's note here is good.
"Aristote suit ici l'ordre naturel. Les sentimens font pour les mœurs, ce que les mœurs font pour l'action. Comme un Poete tragique ne peut bien imiter une action, qu'en employant les mœurs, il ne peut non plus bien marquer les mœurs, que par le moyen des sentimens, & par consequent les sentimens tiennent le troisieme rang dans la Tragedie."
56.
mvp-aristotle-comment-56
NOTE 56. P. 78.
6.22
WHICH, IN THE DIALOGUE, DEPENDS ON THE POLITICAL AND RHETORICAL ARTS.
Ὅπερ, ἐπι των λόγων, της πολιτικής και ῥητορικης ἔργον ἐστιν.
— I have not seen the words,
ἐπι των λογων
, satisfactorily explained. I cannot agree with those commentators, who by
λογοι
, here, understand, oratory, prose eloquence, as opposed to Poetry: a sense, indeed, very common, in Aristotle and other writers; but if we adopt it here, how follows—
ὁι ΓΑΡ ἀρχαιοι πολιτικώς ΕΠΟΙΟΥΝ λέγοντας
? for here, Aristotle evidently speaks of Poets; not of orators, as Dacier renders it. The passage, then, fairly translated, would stand thus:—"which, (i. e. the choice of proper sentiments,) in ORATORY, is the business of the political and rhetorical arts: FOR the antient Tragic Poets made their characters speak politically," &c. Nothing can well be more incoherent.
Επι των λόγων
, means, I think, in the
speeches,
discourse, or
dialogue part of the drama, as distinguished from the choral or lyric part, which had nothing, or comparatively nothing, to do with
ηθος
or character, and in which the Poet was, of course, to draw his
διανοια
, or thoughts, principally at least, from different sources; not from the stores of civil wisdom, or rhetorical art, but from those of Religion, Ethics, Mythology, and Poetry. The word
λογοι
, is clearly used in the same sense, in a passage that presently follows:—
διοπερ ἐκ ἐχεσιν ήθη ἐνιοι των ΛΟΓΩΝ
—"some of the speeches, or the dialogue."
57.
mvp-aristotle-comment-57
NOTE 57. P. 78.
6.23
FOR THE ANTIENTS MADE THEIR CHARACTERS SPEAK IN THE STYLE OF POLITICAL AND POPULAR ELOQUENCE; BUT NOW, THE RHETORICAL MANNER PREVAILS.
Οι μεν γαρ άρχαιοι ΠΟΛΙΤΙΚΩΣ ἐποιουν λεγοντας, οι δε νυν, ῥητορικως.
— So,
Rhet. lib. ii. cap. xxii. p. 573
,
ΠΟΛΙΤΙΚΩι συλλογισμῳ
—a Civil or Oratorical syllogism, as opposed to the strict dialectic syllogism: a distinction which he presently after expresses by,
ἀκριβεστερον
, and
ΜΑΛΑΚΩΤΕΡΟΝ, συλλογίζεσθαι
[ibid.] And thus, here, the same term,
πολιτικως
, is used, to distinguish the popular, and less laboured, though more solid, eloquence of the Senate or the Forum, from the studied and declamatory composition of the professed rhetoricians. A similar use of the word occurs in the passage quoted in NOTE 229, from the
Euagoras of Isocrates
, where,
ὀνομασι ΠΟΛΙΤΙΚΟΙΣ
, is plainly synonymous with
ὀνομασι ΚΥΡΙΟΙΣ
. See also
Dion. Halicarn. De Struct. Orat. p. 4. ed. Upton
, and Faber's note.
That Aristotle, however, by Politics (
ἡ πολιτικη
), means only, as Dacier asserts,
"l'usage commun, le langage ordinaire des peuples,"
cannot, surely, be admitted. The force and extent of the term is well known
202
.
"CIVILIS SCIENTIA,"
Quintilian
says,
"idem quod SAPIENTIA est."
It comprehended all the necessary knowledge of the
Πολιτικά
, the
vir civilis
, the public man. It included, of course, eloquence, or the faculty of public speaking, but that, of a kind very different from the
"umbratile genus,"
as Cicero calls it, of the rhetorical schools
203
. What Aristotle says of the old Tragic Poets, that they made their personages speak like such a man, not like a Rhetorician, cannot be better illustrated than by Quintilian's character of Euripides.
"Illud quidem nemo non fateatur necesse est, iis qui se ad agendum comparent, utiliorem longè Euripidem fore. Namque is, et in sermone—magis accedit oratorio generi, et sententiis densus; et in iis quæ à sapientibus tradita sunt, penè ipsis par, et in dicendo ac respondendo cuilibet eorum qui fuerunt IN FORO DISERTI comparandus."
[lib. x. cap. i.]
That Dacier, with so precise and clear an expression before his eyes, as,
ΕΠΟΙΟΥΝ λεγοντας
, should understand this of the antient orators, and roundly pronounce Victorius to be mistaken in applying it to the Poets, seems perfectly unaccountable. I do not see in this passage any foundation for the refinement of Castelvetro, Dacier, and other commentators, who refer the
ἐνοντα
to the political science, and the
ἁρμοττοντα
to rhetoric. The word
ἁρμοττοντα
, has, I think, the same sense as in cap. xv. and means, such sentiments, or thoughts, as, being adapted to the person speaking, are expressive of the manners: for it is in this view, as I before remarked, that Aristotle is here considering the Sentiments, or
Διανοια
.
Τα ἐνοντα
, as Victorius has observed, is equivalent to
τα ὑπαρχοντα
; and it was clearly the business of rhetoric (
ῥητορικης ἔργον
,) to teach both the
ὑπαρχοντα
and the
ἁρμοττοντα
. See
Rhet. lib. ii. cap. xxii. p. 573, E.
and
lib. iii. cap. vii. p. 590, D. ed. Duval
.
204
58.
mvp-aristotle-comment-58
NOTE 58. P. 78.
6.24
THERE ARE SPEECHES, THEREFORE, WHICH ARE WITHOUT MANNERS----AS NOT CONTAINING, &C.
The reading I have followed is, I think, fully authorised, by MSS. and by common sense. See Mr. Winstanley's note, p. 282.—The Abbé Batteux has given the passage thus, from a MS. (No. 2117,) in the King of France's library.
Ἔστι δε ήθος μεν το τοιοῦτον, ὃ δηλοι την προαιρεσιν, ὁποια τις ἐσιν· διοπερ ἐκ ἐχεσιν ἠθη ἐνιοι των λογων, ἐν οἷς ἐκ ἐστι δηλον ὅτι προαιρειται η φευγει ὁ λεγων.
The common reading stands thus:—
Ἔστι δε ήθη μεν το τοιουτον, ὃ δηλοι την προαιρεσιν, ὁποια τις ἐσιν, ἐν οἷς ἐκ ἐστι δηλον, προαιρειται, η φευγει ὁ λέγων· διοπερ ἐκ ἐχεσιν ήθη ἐνιοι των λογων.
— Which is thus rendered by Mr. Harris:
"MANNERS OF CHARACTER is that which discovers WHAT THE DETERMINATION [of a speaker] will be, in matters, where IT IS NOT YET MANIFEST, whether he chuses to do a thing, or to avoid it."
Now if this were true, I do not see how there could be any
ηθος
, in any play, after the first discovery of the speaker's character. In the
Avare of Moliere, for instance, it is sufficiently manifest from the very first scene in which Harpagon appears, what his avarice will lead him to chuse or to avoid, in any circumstance of the drama. Is there, for that reason, no
ηθος
, no sentiments that mark his character, in any thing he says during the rest of the play?
205
Nay, more; according to this reading, there can be no
ηθος
at all in any part of that drama: for the
προαιρεσις
or propensity of the Miser is completely known to every reader or spectator from the very title of the piece. I know, indeed, that
Le Bossu
, and others, have given a meaning to this passage, by making Aristotle say, what he certainly does not say—viz. when it is not yet manifest "ex indicio dicentis," what the will, or choice, of the speaker is. But if the common reading were right, we might, surely, expect to find the words,
ἐν οἷς ἐκ ἐστι δηλον
, &c. subjoined in other places where he defines the
ηθος
. Yet we have nothing like it in cap. xv. initio; nor in the second book of his
Rhetoric
, where he says only,
ηθος δ᾽ ἐχεσιν λογοι, ἐν ὁσοις δηλη ἡ προαιρεσις
: nor in other passages of the same work, relative to the same subject. Piccolomini's translation agrees with mine, and is expressed with his usual accuracy.
"—Ma il costume nel parlar' é quello, il quale mostra fuora, è apparir fà il volere, et l'elettion di chi parla. Peroche alcuni parlari si truovano, li quali non hanno costume; come ch' in essi non appaia, et non si manifesti, quello, che elegga, ò fugga, con la sua volontà, chi parla."
59.
mvp-aristotle-comment-59
NOTE 59. P. 78
7.4
A BEGINNING, IS THAT, &C.
See
Harris, Philol. Inq. Part II. ch. v.
These definitions must be understood wholly to refer to the wants, and expectations, of the spectator. He must want nothing before the beginning, nor expect any thing after the end. Nothing, however, is more common than both these defects; than perplexed beginnings, and unsatisfactory conclusions. Henry Fielding, we are told, used
"to execrate the man who invented fifth acts."
The inventor of first acts has not given dramatic Poets much less trouble. Most modern plays have, I think, more or less of this intricacy in their beginnings; but it is especially the case with Comedy.
It seems, indeed, by no means easy for a modern comic writer, of whom invention, novelty, variety of incidents, and ingenuity of contrivance, are required,
δουναι
, as Aristotle well expresses it,
ὥσπερ ἐις την χειρα, την ἀρχην
—"to put the beginning fairly into the spectator's hand." The spectator, and even the reader, of a new Comedy, is generally employed, during the first scenes, in guessing an ænigma; and when, at length, he comprehends what is going forward, his attention, interest, and sympathy, are disturbed and distracted, by looking back, to understand what he should have understood at first. Hence the advantage which the Tragic Poet, from the notoriety of his subjects, generally possesses over the Comic; and which is so pleasantly described in the fragment preserved by Athenæus from Antiphanes or Aristophanes:—
Μακαριον ἐστιν ἡ Τραγῳδια
Ποιημα κατα παντ· ἐιγε πρωτον οι λογοι
Υπο των θεατων εισιν ἐγνωρισμενοι
Πριν και τιν ἐιπειν, ὡς ὑπομνησαι μονον
Δει τον ποιητην. Οιδιπουν γαρ ἀν γε φω,
Τα δ άλλα παντ᾿ ἰσασιν· ὁ πατηρ Λαϊος,
Μητηρ Ιοκαστη· θυγατερες, παιδες, τινες –
Τι πεισεθ' ἐτω, τι πεποιηκεν—ἂν παλιν
Ειπη τις Αλκμαιωνα, και τα παιδια
Παντ᾽ ἐυθυς ἐιρηκεν ὅτι μανεις ἀπεκτονε
Την μητερα. —
Ἡμιν δε ταυτ᾿ ἐκ ἐστιν· άλλα παντα δει
Ευρειν, ὀνοματα καινα, τα διῳκημενα
Προτερον, τα νυν παροντα, την καταστροφην,
Την ἐσβολην· ἂν ἐν τι τετων παραλιπη
Χρεμης τις, ή Φειδων τις, ἐκσυριττεται,
ΠΗΛΕΙ δε ταυτ᾿ ἐξεστι και ΤΕΥΚΡΩΙ ποιον.
Athen. lib. vi. See Casaubon, in locum.
Thus rendered by Grotius—
Scilicet Tragedia
Felix poema est: nam principio cognitum
Argumentum omne spectatori est, antequam
Verbum hiscat aliquis: nomen tantum dicere
Poetræ satis est. Oedipum præscripsero,
Jam reliqua per se norunt; pater est Laïus,
Jocasta mater; tum qui nati et filiæ,
Quid fecit, quid patietur. Si promiserit
Alemæona alius, ipsi dicent pueruli,
"Hic ille est qui interfecit matrem insaniens."—
At nobis ista non licent, sed omnia
Sunt invenienda, nomina imprimis nova,
Res antegestæ, res præsentes, exitus,
Initia. Ex illis siqua pars defecerit,
Exsibilatur Phido, sive ille est Chremes;
Illa alia facere Peleo et Teucro licet.
Excerpta ex Trag. et Com. Græcis, p. 622.
When the middle of a drama is not sufficiently connected with what precedes, that is, in Aristotle's language, when it is not,
ἀυτο μετ᾿ άλλο
, a new plot seems to begin: a fault not uncommon in double and complicated fables. If, on the other hand, it wants the
μετ' ἐκεινο ἑτερον
, the piece seems finished before its time. The Sampson Agonistes of Milton, according to Dr. Johnson, is deficient in both requisites of a true, Aristotelic middle. Its
"intermediate parts have neither cause nor consequence, neither hasten nor retard the catastrophe."
Life of Milton.
The criticism appears to be just.
It is seldom, however, that a beginning, a middle, or an end, is defective in both the conditions required. A beginning, which, strictly speaking, did not naturally require any thing to follow it, (
μετ' ἐκεινο ἑτερον πεφυκεν ἐιναι
,) would put even the most attentive spectator into the situation of Shakspeare's drowsy tinker:
Sly. A goodly matter, surely. Comes there any more of it?
Page. My Lord, 'tis but begun.
Taming of the Shrew.
The most usual defects, and which, I suppose, Aristotle had principally in view, are those of beginnings which do not properly, in his sense, begin, and of endings which do not end. The first perplex us, by supposing something to have preceded, without clearly telling us what; the other leave us dissatisfied, by disappointing our natural expectations of something more to follow. Of this last fault, instances may be found in abundance; particularly in the conclusions of Shakspeare
206
. In Plautus, and even in Terence, we find this imperfection supplied by a very simple and clumsy contrivance, that, of informing the audience that the play was over, and telling them in what manner they were to suppose the catastrophe completed.
Spectatores, Fabula hæc est acta: vos plausum date.
Plaut. Mostel.
Spectatores, quod futurum est intus, hic memorabimus.
Hæc Casina hujus reperietur filia esse è proxumo;
Eaque nubet Euthynico nostro herili filio.
Id. in fine Casinæ.
Ne expectetis dum exeant huc: intus despondebitur;
Intus transigetur, si quid est quod restat.
Ter. And.
The fault opposite to this—that, of prolonging the piece beyond the point of satisfactory conclusion—has been attributed to the Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophocles. The criticism is tasteless, on every account. The reader may see it well confuted by Brumoy. But one of his answers is alone sufficient, on the principles of Aristotle:
"Le spectateur en effet seroit-il content s'il ignoroit le sort de Jocaste, d'Oedipe, et de sa famille?"
Theatre des Grecs, i. 376.
&c.
"Oedipus,"
Voltaire
says,
"is fully acquainted with his fate at the end of the fourth act. Voila donc la piece finie."
Critique sur l'Oedipe de Sophocle.
—He might have learned better criticism from a writer of far inferior abilities.
"Il faut aussi prendre garde que la catastrophe achéve pleinement le Poeme dramatique; c'est à dire, qu'il ne reste rien aprés, ou de ce que les spectateurs doivent sçavoir, ou qu'ils vueillent entendre; car s'ils ont raison de demander, Qu'est devenu quelque personnage interessé dans les grandes intrigues du Theatre, ou s'ils ont juste sujet de sçavoir, Quels font les sentimens de quelq'un des principaux acteurs aprés le dernier evenement qui fait cette catastrophe, la piece n'est pas finie, il y manque encore un dernier trait'."
D'Aubignac, Pratique du Theatre, tom. i. p. 126.
That is to say, in Aristotle's language, a drama so concluded, (as the Oedipus Tyrannus would be, if it ended with the fourth act,) would want the true
τελευτη
, or end—that, after which,
άλλο οὐδεν ΠΕΦΥΚΕΝ ἐιναι
.
60.
mvp-aristotle-comment-60
NOTE 60. P. 79.
7.8
WHETHER IT BE AN ANIMAL, &C.
Αλλα τοδε γε οιμαι σε φαναι ἀν δειν, παντα λογον ΩΣΠΕΡ ΖΩΟΝ συνεσταναι, σωμα τι ἐχοντα αυτον αὑτου ὡστε μητε ΑΚΕΦΑΛΟΝ ειναι μητε ΑΠΟΥΝ, άλλα ΜΕΣΑ τε εχειν, και ΑΚΡΑ, πρεποντα άλληλοις και τω ὍΛΩ.
Plato, in Phædro, p. 264, ed. Ser.
61.
mvp-aristotle-comment-61
NOTE 61. P. 79.
7.8
BEAUTY CONSISTS IN MAGNITUDE AND ORDER.
There is something singular, something, at least, not quite consonant to modern ideas, in the great stress which the antients appear to have laid upon size, as a necessary constituent of beauty in the human form. They seem, indeed, to have despised every thing that was not large; and to have estimated beauty, not by measure only, but by weight also.
"Magnanimity,"
the Philosopher in his Ethics
says,
"consists in greatness of soul, as beauty also consists in greatness of body. Little men may be called
άστειοι
, and
συμμετροι
, pretty, and well-shaped, but not
ΚΑΛΟΙ
, handsome, or beautiful."
That magnitude should have entered, as essential, into their idea of a handsome man, is not surprising. The utility of strength, and the connection between strength and size, is sufficient to account for this. But what appears most singular is, that they insist no less upon the importance of magnitude to female beauty.
—ΘΗΛΕΙΩΝ δε ἀρετη, σωματος μεν, καλλος και ΜΕΓΕΘΟΣ.
Rhet. i. cap. v.
Homer seldom omits size in his descriptions of this kind.
Ἔσκε δε πατρος ἐμοιο γυνη Φοινίσσ᾽ ἐνι οικῳ,
Καλη τε ΜΕΓΑΛΗ τε, και ἀγλαα ἔργ᾽ ειδυῖα.
Od. O. 416.
Nor let it be objected, that this praise comes from a swine-herd; for Eurymachus, a suitor, and a courtier, compliments Penelope, by telling her, that she was more accomplished in mind, handsomer, and LARGER, than other women:
ἐπει περιεσσι γυναικων
Ειδός τε, ΜΕΓΕΘΟΣ τε, ἰδε φρενας ἔνδον ἐἴσας.
Od. Σ. 248.
And, indeed, when Minerva, that Penelope might fascinate the suitors, anointed her with the cosmetic wash of Venus, and gave a supernatural heightening to all her charms, at the same time that she made her skin "whiter than ivory," she made her also "taller and stouter."
Αμβροτα δωρα δίδου, ἱνα μιν θησαιατ᾿ Αχαιοἰ
Καλλει μεν οι πρωτα προσωπα τε καλα καθηρεν
Αμβροσιῳ, οἱῳ περ ἐϋστεφανος Κυθέρεια
Χριεται, ἐυτ᾿ ἂν ἴῃ Χαριτων χορον ἱμεροεντα·
Και μιν ΜΑΚΡΟΤΕΡΗΝ ΚΑΙ ΠΑΣΣΟΝΑ θηκεν ιδεσθαι.
Ibid. 190.
Thus, too, of the daughters of Pandarus:
Ἡρη δ αυτῃσιν περι πασεων δωκε γυναικων
Ειδος και πινυτην, ΜΗΚΟΣ δ᾽ ἐπορ᾿ Αρτεμις άγνη.
When Penelope, in the beginning of the twenty-first book, goes to fetch the key of the repository, where the bow of Ulysses was kept, Homer describes her as taking hold of the key with her "stout hand:"
Ἑιλετο δε κληιδ᾽ ἐυκαμπεα ΧΕΙΡΙ ΠΑΧΕΙΗ.
Od. Φ. 6.
—which Ernestus, who allows, that,
"manu crassâ, non benè convenit feminæ pulchræ et reginæ,"
would fain soften down into the
main potelée
of the French.
Quintilian observes of Zeuxis, who drew the heads and limbs of his figures very large, that, in this, he followed HOMER,
"cui validissima quæque forma, etiam in fæminis, placet;"
lib. xii. cap. 10.
and, that he did this,
"id amplius atque augustius ratus:"
and, indeed, these ideas of the antients relative to beauty, both male and female, seem to have been owing, in part, at least, to their ideas of that majesty and dignity, which they considered as essential attributes of their divinities, and which imply superior size and strength. To tell a lady that she was taller and stouter than most of her sex, was a great compliment: it was comparing her to a goddess. It seems, then, that Shakspeare, in the quarrel between Helena and Hermia in his
Midsummer Night's Dream, has, without knowing it, made Hermia perfectly classical in her resentment, and Lysander, in his reproaches:
Her. Puppet! Why so?—Ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures; she hath urged her height,
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.
Her. Little again?—nothing but low and little?
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her.
Lys. Get you gone, you dwarf,
You minimus of hind'ring knot-grass made,
You bead, you acorn!
Act iii. Scene 8.
62.
mvp-aristotle-comment-62
NOTE 62. P. 79.
7.9
NO VERY MINUTE ANIMAL CAN BE BEAUTIFUL— NOR ONE OF A PRODIGIOUS SIZE.
I am by no means perfectly satisfied of the integrity of this passage; but no better comment can, I think, be given upon it, as it stands, than that of Beni.
"Non priora [i. e. quæ valdè pusilla,] quia eorum spectatio [
θεωρια
] momento penè temporis fiat, ac propterea spectatio ipsa confundatur; quod est, tantâ celeritate comprehendantur ac veluti absorbeantur partes omnes, ut non liceat partem à parte, ut caput à thorace, internoscere, atque adeo partes conferre mutuò, symmetriamque et proportionem agnoscere et æstimare. Non posteriora, [i. e. valdè magna,] quia, è contrario, in tam ingenti mole ac magnitudine, partium multitudo cognitionem impediat, quæ non possit simul [
ἅμα
] haberi: dum enim spectatur una, propter distantiam deperit et evanescit [
οἴχεται
] cognitio alterius; ita ut unum et totum non appareat animal."
The reader may, after this, be amused with seeing what strange work
Lord Shaftesbury
has made with this passage in his explanatory translation of it.
63.
mvp-aristotle-comment-63
NOTE 63. P. 80.
7.9
EASILY COMPREHENDED BY THE EYE, &C.
ΕΥΣΥΝΟΠΤΟΝ
—No words furnish a more striking proof of the richness, compression, force, and convenience, of the Greek language, than those which Aristotle here uses;
ευσυνοπτον, ἐυμνημονευτον, συνδηλον
. The reader needs only see to what a feeble length of periphrastic wire-drawing a translator is reduced, if he would give their full value:
"Easily comprehended by the eye."
"Que l'œil puisse comprendre et mesurer aisement et tout d'un coup."
[Dacier.]
"Qui puisse être saisi d'un même coup d'œil."
[Batteux; the most compressed of all Aristotle's translators.]
"Un tout ensemble où la vue ne s'égare point."
[Marmontel, Poetique Fr. Pref.]
Of the same kind are the words,
ἐυεπακολουθητον
—"such as the understanding can easily follow and keep up with"
207
:
εὐανάπνευστος
, of a period, "that does not put one out of breath"
208
.
64.
mvp-aristotle-comment-64
NOTE 64. P. 80.
7.11
IF A HUNDRED TRAGEDIES &C.
The supposition of a hundred Tragedies performed in concurrence seems merely to be a sort of hyperbolical fling at the known intemperance of the Athenian people with respect to theatrical exhibitions; and Dacier has rightly, I think, accounted for this
exuberantia orationis
, as Victorius calls it
209
. But Dacier, and the Abbé Batteux after him, make Aristotle's expression too hyperbolical for hyperbole itself, when they translate,
"S'il falloit jouer cent Tragedies en un jour."
For if the Tragedies were only half an hour long, and played without intermission, they would have required a day of fifty hours. We must understand, surely, with Beni,
"Si centum Tragœdiæ, verbi gratiâ, totis illis spectaculorum diebus recitandæ proponerentur;"
Comment. p. 211.
which will still leave hyperbole enough.
Dacier is also mistaken, I believe, in concluding, from what Aristotle says, that it was once an established custom with the Greeks to regulate the length of Tragedies by the clepsydra, or hour-glass. His expression seems to imply at least, that it had been rarely practised, if it does not, as M. Batteux thinks, imply some doubt, whether it had been done at all:—
ὥσπερ ποτε και άλλοτε ΦΑΣΙ
. Thus much, however, as to the limited length of these performances, we may easily conceive; that when, to gratify the immoderate fondness of the Athenians for the drama, an uncommon number of Tragedies were exhibited in concurrence, and the contending Poets were apt to encroach upon the patience of the audience, by lengthening out their pieces in order to shew off themselves, or their actors
210
, the Lord Chamberlain of these exhibitions might be obliged, in compliance with the clamours of the people, to confine the representation of each drama to some limited time.
