24.1.
mvp-aristotle-comment-101
24.3
THE ILIAD IS SIMPLE AND PATHETIC, THE ODYSSEY COMPLI- CATED AND FULL OF CHARACTERISTIC MANNERS.
BY simple, as Ariftotle has already mentioned (Chap. X.), is meant without peripetía or discovery, which is strictly the character of the Iliad. The character also of pathetic which he gives it, taken in the same sense as it is in Chapter XI. when applied to tragedy, is exactly fitted to it, for it is replete with deaths, wounds, and other disastrous events. The Odyssey is complicated both from abounding in discoveries, as Aristotle particularly observes, and deriving its catastrophe from a very beautiful and affecting peripetía. I confess I do not see so strongly its fuperiority over the Iliad in point of manners. The Iliad is deservedly celebrated for nice discrimination of character, as nice perhaps as the rude and uniform way of life of the age would permit; and many of these strokes which characterize the manners, are also in the highest degree pathetic, using the word in its modern acceptation. Such, for instance, as the interview between Hector and Andromache, and the lamentation over the body of Hector, especially the speech of Helen [P]. However not only Aristotle, but even Homer himself characterizes the hero of the Odyssey as being versed in the manners of various na- [P] See Note II. Chap. xv. tions.
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. tions. Therefore though the delineation of character is strongly marked in the Iliad, and though in fact the anger of Achilles, which forms the ground-work of the poem, is rather a quality than an action; yet from the variety of scenes, nations and ranks of men defcribed in the Odyssey, the manners themselves may be introduced oftener, and must be more diverfified than in a work, whose scene of action is confined to a camp and a befieged city. Homer himself mentions variety as characteristic of the manners of the Odyssey. But if the Odyssey (Q) does not appear to me so strongly distinguished from the Iliad in point of manners, as to make them a character of contradistinction; on the other hand I must again repeat what I have before observed [R], that I can by no means accede to the opinion of Longinus, as to the decided superiority of the Iliad over the Odyssey in general: though perhaps the Iliad may have fome passages more strikingly fublime than any thing to be found in the Odyfssey; and the Odyssey may in some places have carried the marvellous into the extreme. Yet surely in the conduct and interest of the fable, the Odyssey has infinitely the advantage; and, for this reason probably, it appears to have [Q] It appears to have been at some time a doubt among the critics, whether the lliad and Odyssey were the work of the same perfon; for in the edition of Homer by Villoifon, which I have already mentioned in Note VII. on Chap. xv. near the conclufion, in one of the Scholia the mark called διπλῆ καθαρὰ, besides the use there mentioned as assigned to it, is said to point out passages (probably in confutation) to those who ascribe the Iliad and Odyssey to different poets. Πρὸς τὰς λέγοντας μὴ εἶναι τὸ ἀυτὲ ποιητᾶ Ιλίαδα καὶ Οδυσσείαν. So long ago as the year 1769, the late Dr. Hunter informed me, a friend of his was writing a treatise on this subject. I do not believe it has ever been made public. [R] See Note IV. Chap. VI. 3 M been
A COMMENTARY ON THE CHAP. XXIV. been the greater favorite of Aristotle who draws infinitely more examples from it in this work than from the Iliad, a mark of approbation that infinitely outweighs the censure of [s] Longinus. It is not impoffible that the subject of the Iliad might be more agreeable to the taste of Longinus, than the Odyssey, which is in fact a delineation of the private manners of the higher ranks of Greece, and there fore not fo capable of the Sublime as the Iliad. One drew his characters as kings and warriors, the other as fathers, fons and husbands. I mean in general; there are beautiful deviations from the rule in both, and which receive additional beauty from being contrasted with the leading features of the respective poems.. [T] Pope has been much and justly blamed for altering the manners of Homer, from a false refinement which he borrowed from the French critics while he abused them; and which, if the capricious taste of the [s] I should hardly have made any excuse for this assertion, had not so elegant a critic as Mr. Hayley preferred Longinus to the Stagirite. I may be prejudiced perhaps, for it is impoffible to feparate our opinion of the doctrine, from that we have of the person who delivers it, but in this case I own I can form no comparison between an Attic writer, the immediate fucceffor. of Xenophon and Plato, and a femi-barbarian, even if an Athenian, as some affert, of the age of Aurelian, one of those - Quos Græcia non suos alumnos Agnovit in pejus ruentis ævi. On this occafion I am almost tempted to adopt the strong distinction M. Leffing makes between the Greek and Roman writers; (Dramaturgie, Part II. page 132.) and say, 'It is not < impoffible that one may, for once only, have judged better than the other, but on the simple < possibility it is what I would not believe in any cafe.. [T] See Note 1. Chap. xv. and Note Iv. on this Chapter. public
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. public at the time of his tranflation made necessary, a juster sense of propriety has now exploded. But this is carried so far in the Odyssey as to be perfectly absurd, and entirely to change the manners, and confequently the incidents (which are closely connected with them,) of the whole work. Pope all through the Odyssey represents Telemachus as not only having his substance wasted and his life attempted by the suitors, but as having his paternal throne ufurped, though there is no idea of fuch a thing mentioned in the original, nor does Telemachus [u] ever complain of any other injury than the waste of his flocks and herds, and the riots in his house. That Ulysses was an elected and not an hereditary prince is obvious from the private situation of Laertes, who, had he been king, would hardly have given up the government to Ulysses before or during the fiege of Troy. He is not at the return of Ulysses so old as to be unable to bear arms and even kill an armed warrior with his spear; and the time of the absence of Ulyffes was twenty years. In the fecond Book of the Odyssey, when Telemachus appeals to the assembly of the chiefs, Pope tells us, when he came His father's throne he fill'd, while distant stood • The hoary peers and aged wisdom bow'd; and when he rose ' majestic' to speak • His royal hand th' imperial fceptre sway'd.' [u] In the first book of the Odyssey, Antinous mentions the hereditary right of Telemachus to the monarchy in a taunting manner. Telemachus in answer, disclaims any exclufive right to the fucceffion of the government, but asserts his right to his father's property, both which are confirmed by Eurymachus. It is curious to see how completely Pope has misrepresented this, both in his translation and note upon it. 3 M 2 This
This is exactly a prince regent in the house of lords; but the original only says, [x] that he fat in his father's feat and the elders gave way to him, as seems natural both out of respect to his birth and because it was at his defire they met, and confequently he was to declare his cause of complaint to them. And as for the imperial fceptre it was no more than an ensign of oratory which [Y] the herald used to put in the hands of all public speakers when they addressed a large assembly. [z] • On feats of stone within the facred place, • The rev'rend elders judged the dubious case • Alternate; each th' attesting sceptre took, • And rifing folemn each his fentence spoke.' The constant repetition of court and palace, is in the same style; but the continual appellation of the prince, which is given to Telemachus, is [x] Ε΄ζελο δ᾽ ἐν πατρὸς θώκῳ ἔιξων δὲ γέροντες. But though hereditary succession to regal authority was no claim as clearly appears, I think from the whole story of the Odyssey, it seems clearly to have been the general practice in Greece during the era of the Trojan war. – Σκῆπτρον δὲ ὁι εμβαλε χειρὶ [γ] Y Κήρυξ Πεισήνωρ. [z] See Iliad Book XVIII. v. 504. in the original; 585 in Pope. I have altered the second line which is tranflated without the least authority from Homer, The rey'rend elders NODDED O'ER THE cafe.'" The meaning of this passage seems to have been universally mistaken; the obvious meaning is that given by Col. Mitford in his history of Greece. See Chap. III. Sect. 11. who supposes the talents of gold to be the object of the litigation not the reward of the judge, and that the speakers pleaded, not judged alternately, αμοιβηδὶς δ᾽ ἐδίκαζον. Δικάζομαι, in the middle voice has this sense. Though I cannot recollect another instance of its being used in this sense in the active voice, it feems so obviously necessary here, that I am inclined to confider this as one.. a mafter-
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. a master-piece of absurdity. Prince in its general acceptation is equivalent with king; in the appropriated language of modern etiquette, it may be called the second title of a king, which is bestowed on his eldest fon, to whom, with the article THE prefixed it peculiarly belongs. But it is fully as abfurd to give this title to the son even of a Greek hereditary monarch, as it would have been in Shakespear, who, following our older writers, made Theseus, Duke of Athens, to have called his fon, had he introduced him in his drama the Marquis, a fault that has been really committed by Beaumont and Fletcher in their tragedy of Cupid's Revenge. But we cannot wonder at any absurdity in writers, who make Demetrius Poliorcetes fire [A] a pistol. This title given to Telemachus, reminds me of a circumstance I have met with in some novel, where an African prince is introduced to an affected and ignorant woman, who asks him if he is Prince of Wales in his own country, or only one of the younger princes. In all interesting narrations where manners are strongly painted, the poet should be particularly careful not to blend them too much with the affecting parts. This is more particularly to be attended to in the comic epopee where manners are drawn with a bolder hand, and their tendency is frequently such as must counteract the affecting parts of the action. Miss Burney, who is second to none in just and well-difcriminated portraits of life and manners, runs a little into this fault in her novel of Cecilia. When the heroine is on the road to meet Delville in London and be privately married to him, we are too much interested in her fituation to attend to the conversation of the group that embarrasses her on. [A] See Note 1. Chap. XII. There is a print by Rembrandt of Tobit, where the scene is laid. in a Flemish kitchen, with dried herrings hanging in a great chimney corner.. the
the way. The fame may be partly faid of the Vauxhall scene, but more strongly of the scene between Hopson and Cecilia immediately preceding her terrible interview with Delville, which brings on the catastrophe. This mixture of exceedingly well drawn comic character, with the strongest force of tragio situation, must contribute in great measure to weaken the effect of both. Fielding has avoided this in his novel of Tom Jones. He introduces no striking delineation of character from the time of his imprisonment till the final discovery. The manners in Joseph Andrews are highly colored till the conclufion, but then it contains no deep distress. Richardfon was the most unequal drawer of character imaginable. Mr. Greville has painted this painter of manners with fuch lively and just traits, that I trust I shall be forgiven for inserting a sketch of the picture. He is in many particulars the most minute, • fine, delicate observer of human nature I ever met with, the most re- • fined and just in his sentiments; but he often carries that refinement ، • into puerility, and that justness into tastelessness. He not only enters upon those beautiful and touching distinctions which the gross concep- ' tions of most men are incapable of discerning, but he also falls upon all ⚫ the trivial filly circumstances of society which can have attractions only ' for the nursery. His understanding seems to be hampered and con- ' fined; it wants enlargement, freedom, or to say all in one word, taste. • His men of the world are strange debauchées, his women outrageoufly • OUTRE'ES both in good and bad qualities [B].' I cannot quit a note which began with a comparison between the epopees of Homer, without taking notice of another which has been often compared with them, and strange to tell, often preferred to them. [B] Greville's Maxims, 3d edit. page 51. I mean
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. I mean the Æneid. I must say I am aftonished how such a comparison could ever have existed. Originality and invention are the foul of poetry; and Virgil, in his Æneid, has no more pretenfions to these than Pope has in his tranflation. It is true he has frequently ornamented the fimplicity of the old bard, and perhaps sometimes with advantage, but certainly oftener with a contrary effect, and so has our countryman. And I confefs I think in general, the more Virgil has deviated from his archetype the more he has deviated from excellence. What? I may be asked, do you wish, instead of writing the Æneid, he had translated the Iliad and Odyssey? I am much inclined to anfwer, Yes. And I think where Pope has given the sense of his original unsophisticated, his poem has a more original air than the Æneid. The great difference between Homer and Virgil consists in this, and it is in fact all the difference between poetical excellence and mediocrity; Homer described what he had feen; he combined incidents which he knew were founded on truth and nature; he painted manners which were real; he used machinery, the existence of which he believed; he was the Shakespear of Greece, with the advantage of writing in the most perfect language, (M) in its highest state of refinement, and with the most harmonious verfification imaginable. An advantage never enjoyed by any other poet. For, except Homer, no writer has lived at a period. which at the same time furnished manners and incidents best calculated for poetical imitation, and a language at the same time at its highest state of perfection, and capable of every degree of poetical ornament. [M] Greek verse received no additional ornament after Homer. The latest Greek poets, to the time of Oppian, attempted neither innovation or improvement; they tried no other road to excellence in poetry than what the great master of the art had pointed out to them. See Note Iv. on this chapter. In
In this last advantage Virgil was indulged: he wrote in the happiest era of the Roman language, and of that era his style was the purest. The only difference between the two poets in this respect lies in the superiority of the Greek language, and its more natural versification (N]. But in the other respects his inferiority was great indeed. The manners at Rome were as little natural in the Augustan age as they are now at London or Paris. The wars of the time were not directed by the private paffions of individuals; they were the wars of political ambition. In fuch wars nothing is interesting or picturesque. He was obliged to defcribe incidents he never faw, paint manners he was not converfant with, and introduce machinery, the existence of which was generally disbelieved by himself, and all the higher ranks of his cotemporaries. In confequence of these circumstances, every deviation from his archetype is a deviation from truth and nature. In imitating things in which he had no other guide to direct him than Homer, when he quitted that guide he must go wrong; and had he imitated scenes familiar to him they would have been as ill fitted for the epopee as the subject of the Henriade. Of what Virgil could do when he had a subject familiar to himself, and proper for poetry, though of an inferior kind, the divine Georgic will be an eternal monument. Yet, beautiful as the episode of Eurydice is, I cannot think the fourth book of the Georgic equal to the [N] See Note VI. Chap. XXII. But whatever might be the inferiority of Latin to Greek verse is repaid by the superiority of Latin to Greek oratory. If Greek is the natural language of poetry, Latin is the ornamented language of eloquence. When Longinus hefitates which to prefer, Demofthenes or Cicero, his real decision is apparent. For what Dr. Johnson has faid of our northern fellow countrymen may with greater propriety be said, especially in matters of literature, of the countrymen of Longinus. A Greek must be a very sturdy ' moralist who did not love Greece better than truth.' I however confine this to literary rather than political vanity. See Note VI. on this chapter. others.
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. others. The three first books must please, from their views of general nature, but furely the battles and internal government of bees is not very interesting in a poetical light. I know the commentators talk of an afcending scale in the four books, from corn and grass, to trees, to animated nature, and the mimic actions of men, and which, in the last instance particularly, is strongly enforced by Mr. Harris, in his Philological Enquiries, page 123. I confess this account of the bees seems to me very congenial with that species of the burlesque which is derived. from dressing mean objects in pompous words, it reminds me of the Batrachomyomachia of Homer [o]. [P] As a proof of the fimplicity of the times described by Homer, it is a great doubt if his kings and heroes could write or read; at least when the Grecian leaders cast lots who shall engage Hector in single combat, in the seventh Iliad they only make their marks, for when the lot figned by Ajax falls out of the helmet, and is carried round by the herald, none of the chiefs know to whom it belongs till it is brought to Ajax himself. [o] Dr. Johnson says, (See BOSWELL'S LIFE, Vol. II. p. 454,) ، The Georgics did not < give me so much pleasure as the Æneid, EXCEPT THE FOURTH BOOK.' An instance of his predilection for description of political society, beyond the beauties of nature. [P] The probability that Homer lived much nearer the times he described than is usually supposed has been shewn by Mr. Mitford with as much clearness as so distant an event is capable of. See MITFORD'S HISTORY OF GREECE, Appendix to Chap. Iv. 3 N NOTE
24.2.
mvp-aristotle-comment-102
24.4
THE PROPER LENGTH OF THE EPOPEE HAS BEEN ALREADY MENTIONED; THERE SHOULD BE A POSSIBILITY OF COMPRE- HENDING THE BEGINNING AND END IN ONE VIEW, WHICH WOULD BE ATTAINED IF IT WERE A LITTLE SHORTER THAN THE COMPOSITIONS OF THE EARLIER POETS, AND REDUCED TO THE SAME LENGTH WITH THE NUMBER OF TRAGEDIES THAT ARE PERFORMED AT ONE TIME.
I CONFESS that, in the first edition of my translation, I followed the opinion of Dacier in understanding this passage as censuring other epic poets for the too great length of their poems, and recommending Homer's epopees as the standard in this respect. But Mr. Twining's arguments in favor of the contrary opinion are so conclusive to me, that I have, without any hesitation, abandoned my former hypothefis to adopt his. It appears clearly, both from the authorities he cites and his own reasoning, that four tragedies were the most that could be fupposed to be performed at one fitting, and which would certainly be now more than sufficient to wear out the patience of the most unwearied admirer of the drama [Q]. And to read a poem of that length without intermiffion, though it would not take up fo much time as the repre- [Q] Mr. Twining has shewn that the spectators took refreshment during this long re-- presentation. It appears that this practice, which is still continued at Sadler's Wells, was the general custom of the old English theatre, where the audience were regaled with tobacco, wine and beer. See a passage from PRYNNE'S HISTRIOMASTRIA, page 322, cited by Mr. Stevens, in his ESSAY ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH. STAGE. fentation
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. sentation of a drama, would I believe, however interesting, never be performed for pleasure only [R], and yet this continued attention must be the point of coincidence to which Aristotle would bring the drama and the epopee [s]. Mr. Twining has also confuted me on my own principles. I have supposed it improbable that Aristotle, who has been in this chapter so lavish of his praises of that poet in express terms, should here censure a part of his conduct by a kind of indirect implication. But Mr. Twining very properly asks, ' Had Aristotle meant to except Homer, why not expressly name him? Gladly as he appears to seize every opportunity of giving the poet his just praise, would he not here also ⚫ have opposed his conduct to that of other poets as he has done in so many other instances? Or why indeed refer us to the number of tragedies successively performed in one day, when he might as well have ' referred at once to the Iliad or the Odyffey.' ، ، This fame reasoning may be applied to all works of narrative imitation. Richardson's Grandifon and Clarissa are much too long. Perhaps Tom Jones falls a little under this predicament. What shall we fay then of the Clelias and Parthenissas, those voluminous romances of the last age, whose perusal would furnish fix months employment to the application of the reader? The epopee from the nature of its mode of imitation, as is well shewn by the Stagirite in this chapter, independent of any rules of art, has a [R] Dacier says, that fometimes fixteen tragedies were performed in fucceffion, which would have taken up thirty-two hours, allowing only two hours for each tragedy. He fays alfo the Iliad might be read through in a day. So it might for a wager. See Mr. Twining's note. [s] See Note III. Chap. xxvi. 3 N 2 much
A COMMENTARY ON THE CHAP. XXIV. much larger scope and richer materials for extending its bulk than can with the greatest indulgence be poffibly allowed to the drama. • The epopee,' (to use the words of Metaftafio, which are a fort of paraphrafe of those of Ariftotle) ' has as it were the whole world for its theatre, and is enabled by narration to avail itself as its material of what different people do at the fame time in different places.' With the drama it is far otherwise. The latter advantage it is impossible it can attempt without utter absurdity; and a plan equally extensive with the epopee is beyond its powers. (T) I have in another place vindicated Shakespear for his deviation from the local laws of the Greek drama; but though I acknowledge myself an admirer almost to idolatry of his excellencies, I cannot bring myself to idolize his faults. That he errs frequently against the general rules on which dramatic probability can alone be founded, it is impoffible to deny, and we can only fay in his justification what Aristotle said of the improbabilities in the Odyssey, Though such faults would be intolerable in an inferior ، writer, they are here almost lost amidst the luftre of furrounding beau- ⚫ ties.' Yet nevertheless they are faults, and as fuch should, if poffible, be avoided. But the epic plan has its boundaries, as well as the actual length of the poem itself. Interest can only be excited by entering into detail. It is not fufficient to mention only, an affecting incident; the poet, if he would influence the paffions of his readers, must describe the circumftances particularly; he must not only, to use the words of Aristotle in another part of this work [u], conduct his imitation well, but dramatically. The natural boundaries of the real length of the poem, and length of plan are mutually dependant on each other. If the poem is itself too long, the story, however drawn out in detail, will [T] See Note III. Chap. v.. [U] Chapter Iv.. certainly
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. certainly incur the fault of not having the beginning, the middle, and the end, the necessary connexion of one part on the other, easily comprehended by the memory; and if a proper length as to the real bulk of the poem is chosen, and a plan is formed of too great an extent, one of two defects must arise from it. Either the events and situations must be so slightly touched on, as to lose their interest, or if the most interesting parts are sufficiently detailed, there will be a want of uniformity that will disgust, the story will be broken into parts, and the idea of the length of time will be confused in the mind of the reader. It must be remembered, that the real natural unity of time, as well as that of place depending upon it, are equally limited by natural probability in the epopee and the drama. If the precise time of an event in the epopee is marked by any circumstance of the action, probability is essentially violated, if more events are crouded into that time than could really happen in it. And if in a comedy that takes up only four hours the fame person should not be in London and Bath, or in a tragedy, the action of which takes up twenty-four hours, he should not be seen at Rome and at Athens; so in an epopee, which takes up forty days, he should not in the course [x] of the action be in England and the East-Indies. To this circumstance being strongly pointed out by nature, we must impute that general regard paid to it, even by indifferent novel writers, which has been noticed in the first note on the preceding chapter: and which has been made still more necessary by the mode, now [x] In the Odyssey the narrative of Ulyffes to Alcinous, and that of Æneas to Dido, are out of the action. See Bossu, L. III. Chap. xi. almost
almost universally adopted, of throwing the narrative into correspondence, which enforces a continuity of action, with more than dramatic precifion. We are less disgusted at the interval of fixteen years that elapses between the third and fourth acts of the Winter's Tale than we should at a twelfth part of that time interrupting an epistolary novel. The Winter's Tale is in fact composed of two distinct dramas, one the sequel of the other; and in the last there are several new characters [Y]. But the correspondents of the novel have the property of the ancient chorus, in keeping the action always before our eyes. For we can never suppose all the persons to drop their correfpondence while one of the principal characters acquires a fortune in the East Indies, however rapidly it may occafionally have been done there. The only resource the author has in this cafe is to step forth in propria persona, and tell his readers that as nothing very interesting happened in that time he has fuppressed the correspondence [z]. Though the epopee, from the action not being immediately before the eyes, has in most respects a greater latitude of indulgence than the drama [A], yet in point of detail it must be much inferior. By detail the events of two hours may be drawn out into a hundred pages, nay a thousand when the actual length of the work is unlimited; and as we always calculate time by the succession of ideas, what is minutely described will naturally appear long. However tedious one may be, and [Y] It is the custom of the Spanish drama, (at least the comedies of Cervantes are fo printed,) to prefix to each act the names of the characters that appear in it. [z] I recollect an instance of this fort in a novel called Clara and Emmeline. [A] See Note III. Chap. xxvi. however
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. however agreeable the other, a month spent in a uniform way, where the transactions of one day exactly correspond with those of the fucceeding ones, will on retrospection appear to have passed more rapidly than the same space of time in which we have been engaged in a variety of transactions. Or, still more applicably to this case, let any person compare different parts of the English history [B], whose comparative chronology he has never before examined, and he will be surprised to find the different impreffion detail of event has made on his imagination as to duration of time. If much (c) of this detail intervenes between any two interesting events, without that detail being very minutely connected with both, the effect of their dependence on each other will be greatly weakened. This is, to my own feelings, strongly exemplified in Tom Jones. A very short period of time intervenes between the fup- [B] For the first clear notion I had of this I must acknowledge my obligation to Dr.. Priestley's Charts of History and Biography, where the time is marked by equi-distant lines, and the comparative chronology seen by one comprehensive view. See his Preliminary Description. [c] In the Iliad, Achilles kills Hector at his first appearance in the field after the death of his friend, but from the intervening detail that behaviour impresses us a little with the idea. of deliberate cruelty, which might have seemed only excusable indignation if the events had been more obviously connected. In this instance Virgil has been superior to his master;
Pallas te hoc vulnere! Pallas • Immolat!' Is an imitable instance of poetical art.. This in real events is evident, as in the execution of criminals. Many an atrocious offender, whose death immediately succeeding his offence would have been looked upon with fatisfaction, becomes, from the interval between them, an object of univerfal pity. Our legislature has seen this, and in the most atrocious of all offences, MURDER, execution follows closely after conviction. posed
posed final parting of Jones and Sophia; yet so long a detail of events, in which, though Sophia appears, her character, as to her paffion for Jones, is so little affecting, and Jones is involved in so many adventures in which she is unconcerned, or rather worse than unconcerned, that their re-union does not give us that lively fatisfaction we should expect from it, when we feel ourselves so strongly affected by their separation. This however may be partly imputed to the conduct of the poet in the catastrophe, where I own the behaviour of Sophia on her meeting with Jones, her obstinate refusal of him, and her extraordinary mode of afterwards consenting to an immediate marriage with him, seem to me perfectly unnatural. (D) Now in the drama the contracted period of the performance will not fuffer an interest once warmly excited ever to cool unless from very ill conduct in the poet. I would not be supposed to censure the body of this inimitable composition on any other ground than its effect on part of the catastrophe. Of the conduct of the work in general I have before given my opinion in the strongest terms of approbation, and the detail is in itself interefting in the highest degree, directly the reverse of Richardson, which is often trifling and tedious in the extreme. In Mrs. Smith's novel of Ethelinde, though the time of the abfence of Montgomery takes up but a short part of the bulk of the work, it must occupy at least as much of the poetical time as all the other incidents; yet as the detail of the intervening events is abridged, (contrary indeed to the uniformity of the tale, but which in such a case is more honored in the breach than the observance,) and in that detail the paf- [D] See Note III. Chap. xxvI. fion
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. sion of Ethelinde for Montgomery is a prominent feature, our interest for the lovers, as such, is never relaxed. In the next chapter Ariftotle allows a deviation from the rules of art if that deviation conduces to the end of poetical imitation; that is, if it makes the effect of the incidents more striking. Having mentioned Mrs. Smith, I cannot avoid paying the tribute due to her extraordinary talents, which excel in two species of composition so different as the novel and the fonnet, and whose powers are so equally capable of charming the imagination, and awakening the passions. I feel a strong wish to see both these exerted in the highest degree in one work; and that she would clothe some pathetic tale, in the conception of which she could not be excelled, with that garb of luxuriant fancy and melodious versification, in which she cannot be equalled.
24.3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-103
24.10
CHÆREΜΟΝ.
ON comparing what Aristotle says of this person, and his mode of imitation here, with what he has before faid of them in the [E] first chapter, I think we must be convinced that Aristotle approved only the regular epopee in hexameter verse, though he was obliged to class many anomalous compositions under that head, which from being imitations of human actions and characters, partook of the nature of poetry, and from being narrative, and using language only, unaccompanied by mufic, could not so well be classed under any other. [E] Note III. Chap. 1. Though
Though Athenæus calls the Hippocentaur, which is obviously alluded to in both places, a drama, (δρᾶμα πολύμετρον,) I must prefer the authority of Aristotle. From what he says, and the manner he has introduced it, there can be no doubt of its being a narrative poem. It is true in those points where the conduct of the drama and the epopee coincide, he takes his examples promiscuously from either, and he frequently illustrates an epic rule from Sophocles, and a dramatic one from Homer. But both these passages relate solely to the epopee, not as it resembles, but as it essentially differs from the drama. It is not impossible however but this poem might be a dialogue, though not intended for representation. On which account, though Aristotle classes it with the epopee, on the fame principle (F) that he does the Socratic dialogues and the mimes of Sophron (G) and Xenarchus, Athenæus might naturally enough call it a drama.
24.4.
mvp-aristotle-comment-104
24.11
NO LONG COMPOSITION HAS BEEN ATTEMPTED IN ANY OTHER VERSE EXCEPT THE HEROIC: NATURE HERSELF HAVING POINTED THAT OUT AS THE MOST PROPER...
THE same observation has been made as to the exclufive fitness of iambic [H] verse for the drama, and both have been strictly attended to [F] See the above cited note. [G] The fifteenth Idyllium of Theocritus is supposed to be taken from one of the mimes. of Sophron. See Mr. Twining's fixth note, and the authority he cites. See also Warton's notes on that Idyllium in his edition of Theocritus. [H] See Note Iv. Chap. IV. by
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. by the epic and tragic writers of Greece and Rome. Indeed the affertion of Ariftotle, that this distinction is founded on nature seems perfectly just. Iambic verse would have been too colloquial to have kept up a tone sufficiently elevated for the epopee, when unassisted by the powers of representation, the empassioned sentiments, and more affecting incidents of the drama: while the natural elevation of heroic verse, according to the concluding sentence of this chapter, would have been too splendid for the interesting scenes of tragedy. As for any of the lyric measures, though adapted to the musical parts of the drama, they would have been still less suited to the dialogue than hexameter verse, from their being still more remote from common speech. So much fo, from the violent license taken with the ufual arrangement of the words, and the consequent dificulty of ready construction, as to want the clearness necessary even for epic imitation. But in those modern languages, in which the drama and the epopee have been chiefly cultivated, I mean the Italian, the French, and the English, no criterion of this fort seems to have been unalterably fettled: and perhaps the supposed propriety of one species of verse for one fpecies of compofition, is frequently determined more by custom than Metastafio, (See his Estratto della Poetica, page 343,) afferts the fuperiority of the OTTAVA RIMA for the epopee. And is so partial to rhyme in general, that he doubts if the reason why the ancients did not use it, was not occafioned by the scarcity of fimilar terminations [1]; nature. and [1] It is curious that a directly contrary reason is given by Dr. Beattie. He says, ' It is ⚫ true the Greeks and Romans did not admit in their poetry those similar endings of lines • which we call rhyme. The reason probably was, that in the classical tongues, on account • of their regular structure, like terminations were so frequent, that it required more dexte- • rity, and occasioned a more pleasing suspense to the ear to keep them separate than to ' bring
and if the invention of this ornament of versification may not be included among those improvements in science which modern industry has added to the acquirements of the ancients, such as the telescope, the mariner's compass, and the art of printing. He concludes by saying, that unrhymed verse never can be popular in Italy, and that from this circumstance nobody reads L'ITALIA LIBERATA of Triffino, or Le SETTE GIORNATE DEL MONDO CREATO of Tasso, both of which are written in VERSI SCIOLTI, or blank verse. It is impossible for a foreigner to judge in this cafe [k]. The authority of a poet like Metastasio is great; yet when we reflect, that all his poetry except the recitative of his dramas is in rhyme, and remember how ready people are to condemn what they do not like, or do not excel in themselves, we muft admit his teftimony with some degree of doubt. Perhaps the fubjects may be ill chosen, or particularly ill adapted to that species of verse. The title of Tasso's work gives us no favourable idea of it as a poem, perhaps the poems in other respects were faulty. Johnson says he could never read Thomson's Liberty, because it was in blank verse; but Johnfon neither liked liberty or blank verse. It certainly is in itself a very heavy poem, but that is not to be imputed to the nature of the blank verse even of Thomson, which is remarkable for being enflated, and of diffi- • bring them together. But in the modern languages the case is different.' ESSAY ON: LAUGHTER AND LUDICROUS COMPOSITION, Chap. 11. p. 381. Notwithstanding these contradictory assertions, yet in point of fact, considering their refpective languages, they may both be in the right. It may be more easy to rhyme in Italian than in Greek and Latin, and perhaps more difficult in English.. [K] We all feel this in regard to modern languages, which we have frequently heard per-- fectly spoken, and yet take upon us to decide about those which have been dead for centuries, as if we knew them by instinct.. cult
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. cult construction; fince there are few poems in the language more popular than The Seafons; and even Dr. Johnson himself does not wish that work had the addition of rhyme. The French are equally partial to the rhymed alexandrine for the drama; and I should conceive from the fame reason, that the Italians prefer the RIMA OTTAVA for the epopee, custom. But where custom does not authorize it, as in the French epopee, a species of poetry that will not only bear, but absolutely requires a language more different from common fpeech than the drama, it did not fucceed. For no one I believe ever read the Henriade without feeling in some measure the same sensation as would arife from reading an heroic poem in [L] Sapphics. [L] There is more monotony in Latin Sapphics than in any species of verse I know. The accents, of which French verse is destitute, fall exactly as in an English heroic verse, beginning with an accented syllable, the emphatic accent of the verse is on the first syllable of the dactyl, and the pause after the last syllable of the spondee. To this disposition of the accent we must add the exact rules of quantity, which, though often vitiated by our pronunciation, must have been marked by that of the Romans; and not only the times but the number of fyllables is also exactly equal. There are only nine lines in the three first books of Horace in which this disposition of the accent and pause is not observed; in the fourth there are twenty. Dr. Watts's Sapphic Ode on the Day of Judgment is composed of complete English dramatic verses with a redundant syllable, as any person will find on reading them without dwelling too strongly either on the emphatic syllable or the pause, which characterize the Sapphic cadence. Read these lines of Shakespear as I have marked them, and you find exactly the cadence of Dr. Watts's Sapphics.. • If lufty love should go in quest of beauty, • Where should he find it?' The Adonic, as to its accentual cadence only, exactly resembles a fragment of a Sapphic, confifting of the first five syllables. See Note II. Chap. xx. In
In regard to English verse it certainly requires great caution to diftinguish between natural propriety and prejudice arising from custom. As far as this I think we may say with confidence, as to natural propriety, that the loofer kind of blank verse, indulged with a freer disposition of accent, (which however should never be carried so far as to destroy the cadence entirely (M)) and the indulgence of one, and sometimes even of two [N] redundant fyllables, is best calculated for the drama; and that the stanza of Spenser, the elegiac stanza, or any kind of lyric measure, is unfit for the epopee. From the descriptive parts of the Paradife Loft, from Thomson's Seafons, and Mason's English Garden, we may fafely say, that heroic blank verse is admirably fitted for defcriptive poetry, but L'Allegro and Il Penferofo, and Grongar Hill, forbid [M] As accent is the efficient of our versification, I consider a license of this kind equivalent to the making a false quantity in ancient verse. See Chap. XXII. Note [c] on the tranflation. [N] This license is to be exercised with moderation. Thomson uses it sometimes. Outrage not my breaking heart To that degree-I cannot-'tis impoffible." TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA. As Rowe alfo does, one of the smoothest of our dramatic poets. • And plead till death the cause of injur'd innocence.' Nay even Milton has assumed this liberty in heroic blank verse. JANE SHORE. • For folitude fometimes is best society.' PARADISE LOST, B. Ix. v. 249. Perhaps these verses may be confidered as Alexandrines, with this distinction, that the rhymed Alexandrine feldom ends with a trifsyllable, and the dramatic Alexandrine, I believe, never with a monofyllable. us
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. us to say it is exclusive. Of the comparative fitness of heroic blank verse, and rhymed verse for the epopee, I shall speak presently. But I will first mention some cases in which I think our choice of particular measures for particular kinds of poetry is guided by other principles than the nature of the verse itself. In Note 1. on Chap. Iv. I have quoted a passage from Mr. Twining, in which he observes how much the power of mufic, in raising particular emotions, depends on the temper of the mind. In confequence of which notion I have hazarded some ideas of my own as to the power of combination on musical effect. Now as the powers of verse [o], unconnected with intelligent language, are very weak indeed, if they exist at all, and the power of music in the same situation is universally felt and acknowledged; it must follow that the power of verse must solely depend on the intelligent words it is connected with, and where no cause obviously natural, (like that of iambics for ancient, and the loofer blank verse for modern tragedy from their colloquial style,) can be [o] I am speaking of modern verse, and ancient verse only as we pronounce it, entirely neglecting the quantity. There is a curious observation of Lord Monboddo on this head. • It is nevertheless true, that notwithstanding the injustice we do Greek and Latin poetry in • pronunciation, it still pleases even our ear more than any modern poetry. It is a matter • of some curiofity to know how this happens; and I believe it might be accounted for ⚫ otherwise than from the prejudice that some people imagine we have in favour of the anci- ، ents; and a system of ancient prosody (I use the word in the common acceptation) might • be given, according to which we actually read their poetry, very different indeed from the • [real] ancient prosody, but more agreeable to that of our own language.' ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF Language, Part 11. Book 11. Chap. VI. page 335. Perhaps on strict examination the accentual cadence of all Latin verse will be found nearly allied to fome of our own measures. See the preceding remarks on Sapphic verse.. pointed
pointed out, the particular propriety of one sort of verse for one fort of compofition, very often depends on custom, and our own association of ideas, which on hearing a particular kind of verse naturally recalls the fubject with which it has usually been connected. Mr. Twining observes, (Note 8) that we should be much surprized • didactic and philofophic poem to find it written in the fame measure with ' on opening a " Jolly mortals fill your glasses." We certainly should from never having seen such an attempt; but if one of our best and earliest didactic poems had been written in this meafure, it does not appear why it might not, from this association, have been esteemed peculiarly adapted to the subject. That the verse itself implies no levity will be sufficiently obvious when we open the Il Penferofo of Milton, and read, • Hail thou goddess, sage and holy, • Hail divinest melancholy.' A collation of this poem and Hudibras will clearly shew that the same measure may be applied to the most opposite subjects. Our triple measures also, (which those who are fond of giving ancient names to modern things may if they please call anapæstics) [P] Mr. Mitford observes) ' equally and peculiarly suited to the expref- • fion of riotous mirth and soft melancholy. Of this every mifcellaneous collection of ballads will convince us. are, (as [P] Effay on Harmony of Language, Sect. xI. page 189. In
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. In regard to our elegiac verse, (whether from this kind of prejudice or not I will not presume to say,) it appears fingularly fitted for its fubject; though Dr. Johnson observes it is difficult to say 'why Hammond • and other writers have thought the quatrain of ten syllables elegiac.' A stanza that has been pronounced by Dryden, whose knowledge of English metre was not inconfiderable, to be the most magnificent of • all the measures which our language affords.' To the authority of Dryden, (whose ear for the harmony of English verfification demands a bolder panegyric than Dr. Johnfon has here given it,) I bow with respect, though in this case not with conviction; as the (2) only poem in that measure written by Dryden, which should confirm this assertion, certainly does not. And as for Dr. Johnson himself, however I may admire his literary character in general, as an arbiter in poetical matters, I cannot submit implicitly to the authority of the critic who wrote the lives of Gray and Milton. I am now entering on a part of my subject where I must proceed with great caution, from the neceffity of mistrusting our own judgment in opinions where perhaps we may mistake prejudice in favour of a particular hypothefis for conviction; especially when the tide of popular opinion is strongly against that hypothesis. I mean the preference of rhymed or unrhymed heroic verse for the English epopee. Indeed the predilection (I will not venture to call it prejudice,) in favor of the latter is so strong, that many of the most refpectable critics of our country have boldly pronounced in unqualified terms, that rhymed verse is totally inadequate to the purpose of epic composition. [Q] ANNUS MIRABILIS.
We have only one original work in our language which can with any propriety be classed with the regular epopee. A work of fuch transcendent merit that hardly any general rule as to its proper material can be laid down from the example of a poet, whose genius was capable of overcoming every difficulty; especially when we see that material employed with undoubted excellence, and wonderful effect, in those offices, where it has universally sunk under in every other hand, we are hardly authorized in imputing that excellence to the nature of the material rather than to the fuperior skill of the poet. Milton in the fimplest parts of his poem, (the opening of the Paradise Loft is an admirable example,) has been able to keep up the dignity of blank verse without inflation, and to preserve (R) the equal tone of unornamented narration without descending into meanness of style, which certainly has never been attempted with success by any fucceeding writer. In most parts of the descriptive poems of Thomson and Mason we fee indeed original verse and propriety of style, but in every attempt at heroic imitation, Milton's manner has been so copied, or rather caricatured, that we are frequently reminded of the burlesque poem of the Splendid Shilling rather than of a serious work [s]. [R] That Milton's style sometimes rises into turgidity, and sometimes sinks into meanness, cannot be denied by his greatest admirers; but to maintain an unremitted excellence of verfification throughout so long a poem, was perhaps beyond the effort of human excellence. Besides, when Milton introduced scripture language, which his subject frequently led him to do, he seems to have been defirous of keeping not only the words but even the arrangement of them as closely as possible to our prose translation of the Bible.. [s] This mode of imitating Milton's manner, (and which perhaps we can hardly blame, as all deviation from excellence tends to corruption of style,) is followed in some degree by most poets who use blank verse, for whatever kind of compofition. But the author of Lewfden Hill has shewn, that the simpler style of Shakespear's dramatic Pentameter may occasionally be transferred to the heroic. To
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. To draw the comparison between the fitness of rhymed and unrhymed verse for the epopee with accuracy, is absolutely impossible from the circumstance already mentioned of our having but one regular original epic poem in our language. A circumstance we furely need not be ashamed of, since Greece boasted only of two, and Rome could not pride herself on one, for to originality the Æneid has no pretence. We have however a copy of the works of Homer of great and acknowledged merit; I mean Pope's Homer, which is in itself one of the most beautiful poems in any language. And after all, what is the great consequence of its want of fidelity to the original [T]). The beauties of Homer are not tranffusible by any translation; and he who wishes to fee all and only all that he really says, without understanding Greek, should confult a literal prose verfion. To quote the words of a much celebrated critic. You may translate books of science exactly. You may translate history, in * so far as it is not embellished with oratory, which is poetical. Poetry ⚫ cannot be translated, and therefore it is the poets that preferve lan- ، guage: for we would not be at the trouble to learn a language if we • could have all that is written in it just as well in a translation. But ، as beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that • in which it was originally written, we learn the language.' BosWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON, Vol. II. p. 62. In the same valuable and entertaining work is the following dialogue. ' I mentioned the vulgar saying • that Pope's Homer was not a good representation of the original. JOHNSON. Sir, it is the greatest work of the kind that ever was pro- “duced. BosWELL. The truth is it is impofssible perfectly to tranflate poetry. In a different language it may be the same tune, but it has not the fame note. " “ Homer plays on a bassoon, Pope on a flagelet. [T] See Note 1. on this chapter. 3 P2 "HARRIS.
"HARRIS. I think heroic poetry is best in blank verse: yet it appears " that rhyme is essential to English poetry from our deficiency in metri- "cal quantities. In my opinion, the chief excellence of our language is numerous prose [U]." IBID. 207. “ As the exclufive propriety of rhymed or unrhymed verse for the epopee has been often argued on the ground of the unfitness of rhymed verse for a tranflation of Homer, and the supposed failure of Pope on that account; and as we now possess what has been long a defideratum in literature, a blank verse translation of Homer by a poet of allowed merit, I shall confine my remarks on this subject to an enquiry into the respective fitness of rhyme and blank verse for a tranflation of Homer. In this I shall not compare particular passages of Mr. Cowper and Pope, or draw any invidious comparisons between their general execution of the work. I shall only endeavour to thew, why I think the inability of rhyme to execute a faithful tranflation of Homer, as far as any poetical tranflation can be faithful, is unfounded, and that the (sometimes wanton) deviations of Pope from the sense and spirit of his original, did not proceed from any fault in the species of verfification he adopted. As Mr. Cowper in the preface to his Homer has collected most of the objections to rhymed verse which have been made, and which certainly gain fuperior weight from his adoption of them as well as from his own additional remarks, I shall attempt to answer them as much as poffible in the fame order in which they are there inferted. [U] In this strange and contradictory opinion of Mr. Harris we trace the quaint decision of one of our old authors, I forget which, That writers in verse were the best kind of writers • next to the writers in profe.' Mr.
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. Mr. Cowper's first objection to rhyme as a mode of translating an ancient poet, if allowed, precludes all farther contest on the subject effectually ;-that it is impossible. • No human ingenuity,' he says, 'can • be equal to the task of closing every couplet with founds homotonous, ، expreffing at the same time the full sense, and only the full sense of the ' original.' In this I perfectly agree with him; if a literal translation is meant it must be in literal prose; and where Virgil has copied Homer most nearly, he certainly might have done it still more nearly, had he rendered the original word for word; but there is a spirit and style to be copied as well as the exact words, and to do this, some degree of paraphrafe is oftentimes necessary; and the real sense of an author, efpecially a poet, is often never so much misrepresented as by too faithful a tranflation. However in this free translation which is certainly meant, I cannot conceive English rhymed verse would have more difficulty to encounter than Latin Hexameters, the measure which a Roman tranflator of Homer would undoubtedly have chosen. The cesure, the pause [w], and the concluding Adonic, mark the boundary of the verse as much as our homotonous endings, and I should suppose were to the full as great a restraint on the poet. In short, if the only advantage blank verse has over rhymed in the translation of an ancient poet is conveying the author's meaning more clearly, it must imply, what Mr. Cowper is far from [w] In the smoother Latin poets, with very few exceptions indeed, the pause falls immediately after the first syllable of the third foot, dividing the verse into two hemistichs, which is indeed the foundation of the monkish rhymed verses. Aulus Gellius says of Varro, L. xvIII. Chap. xv. Scribit observasse se in verfu hexametro quod omnimodo quintus semipes, i. e. prior pedis tertii fyllaba, verbum finiret. We must observe not to confound the metrical pause with the pause in the sense. There can be no metrical pause so strong as the end of a verse, where the sense often requires none. allowing,
allowing, that blank verse is of more ealy compofition than rhymed, and on that principle prose would be preferable to either. the fame reasoning holds. The poet who is mastered by his material, As to the diftinction made between original composition and translation, and inftead of bending his rhyme to his will is obliged to make his thoughts wait on his rhyme, is indeed mastered by what he ought to command. This certainly was not the cafe with Pope, he knew [x]
• to make coy rhyme • Renounce her follies and with sense keep time; • To make proud sense against her nature bend • And wear the chains of rhyme, yet call her friend.' CHURCHILL. Mr. Cowper in his preface also speaks in favor of occafional harsh lines as producing variety in a long work. I believe such beauties are not often difscoverable either in Homer or Virgil. If they are too frequently found in [Y] Milton they are the less excusable, as no poet, ancient or modern, a command [x] The shackles of rhyme have been almost universally pleaded in excuse for the infidelities in Pope's tranflation of Homer. Will it be said that Pope had as great a skill in the Greek language as he had Odyssey, in the first note on this chapter, originate from the fetters of rhyme? Was it rhyme that caused him to omit the amiable character given by Helen of Priam, in the twenty-fourth Iliad, or to dilate so much beyond the original the beautiful fimile on the Trojan fires in the over rhymed verse ? eighth ? So equal do I esteem rhymed verse to a faithful tranflation of Homer, that I think it would be no very arduous task for a good verfifier, well skilled in the original, to render Did the faults pointed out in the Pope's Homer as faithful a copy of the original as a tranflation can possibly be. [Y] Perhaps Milton was led into this by a defire of imitating the bolder license of the Italian poets, as we are told by Servius, Virgil once adopted the Greek accentuation in a Latin verse. Caftorea
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. modern, ever knew so well how to vary his cadence and produce variety of rhythm in verses equally melodious. There is a deviation from the usual arrangement of the accent (in which blank verse has greatly the fuperiority over rhyme) which has often the finest effect, but there is such a deviation also as is destructive of the essence of verfification. Can any pleasure arise from the contraft of such a line as this of Milton? • To the garden of bliss thy feat prepar'd.' Which, contrary to the rule given to Monf. Jourdain, is neither verse nor profe. To the cadence of the heroic pentameter it has no pretence except in the two last feet; and the fix first syllables form a verse consisting of two feet, triple measure, exactly resembling the finale of Midas, • To the bright god of day • Let us fing, dance and play.' Mr. Cowper afterwards observes, that he cannot but add an observa- • tion on the fimilitude between the manner of Milton and Homer,' and this he exemplifies in those breaks and pauses in which the English poet has copied the Grecian. Addison makes the same observation. This is not a question of opinion but of fact. And whoever will read the Iliad and Odyssey through, attentive to this particular circumstance, will be convinced that the break in the middle of a line is very far from being the • Castorea Eliadum palmas EPIROS equarum." On this Servius remarks, Epiros is here a Greek word, on which account the E is accented.. • For if it had been in the Latin form, Epirus or Epiri, the accent must have fallen on pi
characteristic of Homer's style [z]; and where a line is broken it is in a very different manner from the breaks in Milton. In Milton we sometimes fee many successive verses without the smallest pause in the sense at their end; and the close of a blank verse, except the next verse begins with a foot whose first syllable is accented, can be no otherwise defined, and often runs into the succeeding line. (A) But in Homer, besides the cesure and the concluding Adonic, which (according to our mode of reading at least, by Latin accent) marks the boundary of each separate verse precisely, I believe there are hardly two lines together without a flight pause marking the end of the verse, in both his poems: a circumstance which gives a general cadence more resembling Pope's rhymed couplet than the blank verse of Milton (B). The break in these lines Αυτάρ [z] More instances occur in the first hundred lines of the Iliad than in any other part of the poem of three times the length. [A] By this defect the divisions of lines are sometimes arbitrary in our blank verse, of which Milton affords several examples. These lines, • What place can be for us • Within heav'n's bound, unless heav'n's Lord fupreme • We over-power? Suppose he should relent • And publish grace to all, on promise made • Of new fubjection.'-PARADISE LOST, Book II. v. 255. This may as well be written, ، What place can be for us within heav'n's bound, • Unless heav'n's Lord supreme we over-power? • Suppose he should relent and publish grace • To all, on promise made of new subjection.' [B] Blank verse is capable of a high degree of melody without these breaks, as will appear from the example of two of our dramatic Poets. First in Rowe's Jane Shore. O that
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. Αυθὰρ ἔπειτ᾿ ἀυλοῖσι βέλος ἐχεπευκὲς ἐφιεὶς, Βἀλλ᾽, –ἀιεὶ δὲ πυρὰι νεκύων καίονλο θαμειαί. resembles more a break in a rhymed couplet than a Miltonic verse. And if Pope did not imitate it exactly it was his own neglect, not the deficiency of his material; for in his Temple of Fame he has a couplet exactly resembling it. • Amphion there the loud creating lyre ، Struck, and behold a fudden Thebes aspire.' O that my tongue had every grace of speech, • Great and commanding as the breath of kings, Sweet as the poet's numbers, and prevailing As foft perfuafion to a love-sick maid; That I had art and eloquence divine • To pay my duty to my master's ashes, • And plead till death the cause of injured innocence.' And in Shakespear's King John, If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, • Where should he find it fairer than in Blanche? • If zealous love should go in search of virtue, • Where should he find it purer than in Blanche ? • If love ambitious fought a match of honor, • Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanche's? • Such as she is in beauty, virtue, birth, • Such is the Dauphin, every way compleat; • He is the half-part of a blessed man • Left to be finished by such a she; • And she a fair divided excellence • Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. • O, two fuch filver currents when they join, • Do glorify the banks that bound them in.' In
In regard to the comparative difficulty between writing good rhymed and good blank verse, I submit implicitly to the author of the TASK. Whatever the difficulties may be he has effectually surmounted them [c]; and in one of the most entertaining and most original poems in our language, he has employed blank verse with success on every subject, to which verse of any kind could properly be applied. After all, the difficulties he points out in blank verse are perhaps still more confpicuous in the compofition of a good and harmonious style in profe. To invent a good cadence where only vague, and often contradictory rules are given, is more difficult than to follow known rules well. However easy it may be to rhyme, it is still more easy to write blank verse, that is, to put ten syllables in a line, with the accent falling on alternate fyllables ; and might not a prose writer say, and with justice too, ' [D] many orna- ، ments of no easy purchase are required to atone for the absence of this • single recommendation.' How many do we find who can imitate with [c] Dr. Johnson is of the fame opinion with Mr. Cowper as to the superior difficulty of unrhymed to rhymed verse. • In blank verse the language suffered more by distortion to keep it ' out of prose, than any inconvenience or limitation to be apprehended from the shackles and • circumscription of rhyme.' BoSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON, Vol. 1. p. 342. If this observation of Mr. Cowper and Dr. Johnson is just, it entirely confutes the first objection to a rhymed tranflation of Homer. [D] Is not the difference between prose and verse in fome measure illustrated by the following observation of Mr. Gilpin on forest scenery? Though every animal is distinguished • from its fellow by some little variation of color, character, or shape, yet in all the larger parts, ⚫ in the body and limbs, the resemblance is generally exact. In trees it is just the reverse. The • smaller parts, the spray, the leaves, the blossom, and the feed, are the fame in all trees of the ، fame kind, while the larger parts, from which the most beautiful varieties result, are wholly ، different. You never fee two oaks with an equal number of limbs, the fame kind of head, or ⚫ twisted in the same form. However, as variety is not alone fufficient to give fuperiority to the tree, we give the preference on the whole to animal life." tolerable
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. tolerable success the verse of Milton and Pope; of Homer and of Virgil: but who has ever given a fhadow of a resemblance to the style of Xenophon or Addison? Cicero and Dr. Johnson are strong mannerists (I do not mean to compare their styles in any other light) and therefore more eafily caricatured. One of the essential requifites of verfification, as is well observed by a late writer [E], arises from a judicious mixture of uniformity and variety; the first arising from the essential rules of the art, the other from the variation of pause, cadence, &c. The favourers of rhyme think blank verse too loose as to the former; and their opponents (among whom is the gentleman I have quoted, and who carries his objection to [F] hexameters also,) think rhymed verse too closely confined by the former. Mr. Cowper, as well as Spence, in his Essay on Pope's Odyssey, seem to think Pope would have done better to have given His tranflation in blank verse. It is well for his literary character that he did not attempt it. We have a story grounded indeed only on the problematical authority of Voltaire, that Pope, on being asked why Milton did not write his Paradife Loft in rhyme, answered Because he could not.' The answer would have come with more propriety from him, had he been asked, why he did not tranflate Homer into blank verse. For Pope never had tried that species of compofition; but the rhymed verse alone of Milton [E] Essay on Versification, in the first volume of Essays on Subjects Philosophical Historical and Literary. [F] As to myself I acknowledge, that however superior the hexameter may be to the heroic ، couplet, in other respects the perpetual recurrence of the dactyl and spondee is more fatiguing ⚫ to my ear, than what Dryden calls the tinkle in the close of the couplet.' IBID. 3Q2 would
would have placed him very high among the English poets, had his Paradife Loft never appeared. To conclude this subject. As I am confcious so many great names are against me, I shall not pretend to establish my own opinion by any general inference drawn from what I have faid in the course of my discussion of it, but leave it to make what impression it may on the mind of the reader. I shall however in part shelter my opinion under the authority of two most respectable critics. Mr. Addison in the Spectator, No. 285, allows that even Milton has been too free in the use of those methods which Ariftotle has prescribed for the elevation of style, and which he imputes to the nature of his verse, adding that 'where verse is not built upon rhymes, there pomp of found, and energy of expreffion, are indispenfibly necessary to support the style and keep it from falling into the • flatness of profe.' And Dr. Beattie, in his Essay on Laughter and Ludicrous Compofition, Chap. 11. makes this observation. • One end • of rhymes in modern poetry is to diftinguish it more effectually from profe: the Greeks and Romans diftinguished theirs by the measure • and by the compofition, on which the genius of their languages allowed • them to bestow innumerable graces, in respect of arrangement, harmony, and variety, whereof the best modern tongues from the irregularity of their structure, and particularly from their want of inflexion, are but moderately fufceptible; and therefore of rhyme, as a mark of • distinction, our poetry may sometimes stand in need, though theirs ' did not. In fact we find that blank verse, except when the want of rhyme is compensated, as it is in Milton by the harmony and variety • of the composition, can never have a good effect in our HEROIC poetry.' I confefs I think our rhymed verfification declining since the time of Pope, who perhaps carried it to its highest possible pitch of excellence; all
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. all deviation from which must be corruption. This is the cafe with all the fine arts; and Genius itself is the cause of their degenerating. Great talents will not condescend to imitate; and in deviating from perfect models they deviate also from perfection itself, on which account the fine arts are seldom long stationary; they are almost continually either in a progressive or a declining state. Had a poet of fuperior genius to Virgil lived subsequently to him, he would certainly not have been contented to copy his verfification; in which cafe if he could not excel him, he must have corrupted the style of Roman poetry: and from such attempts it was at last corrupted. There appears to me a stiffness, an affected pomposity, an attempt at something not perfectly natural, in the general texture of the rhymed pentameter at present.
24.5.
mvp-aristotle-comment-105
24.14
THOUGH WONDER OUGHT TO BE EXCITED BY TRAGEDY, YET THINGS CONTRARY TO REASON, WHICH EXCITE WONDER IN THE HIGHEST DEGREE, ARE BETTER ADMITTED IN THE EPOPEE, FROM THE ACTION NOT BEING PLACED BEFORE THE EYES.
HOW much tragedy is affected by this rule, has been shewn in the seventeenth chapter, from the unsuccessful drama of Carcinus. The critic here shews how far the epopee may venture in this cafe without incurring the same censure. The example he produces is the flight of Hector and the pursuit of Achilles in the Iliad, which may be tolerated in the epopee though not in the drama. I cannot
I cannot possibly conceive, as is suggested by Mr. Twining, that the idea of stopping an army by the nod of a head, could be the absurdity meant here, as being more apparent in the representation than the recital; or that there could have been any thing more absurd in an army stopping at a nod of the head on the theatre, than by the single word, halt, in Hyde Park. The defect mentioned by Aristotle certainly lay deeper; for he in the next chapter mentions this identical circumstance as a general error against probability, excusable only as it renders the scene more interesting. [G] To us who are used to the point of honor in military affairs this improbability does not appear. But the ancients made war on a different plan. Besides from the fize of our armies, and our mode of carrying on war, one man can be of little consequence in the decifion of a national dispute: but the loss of Hector was like the capture of a fleet, or the deftruction of an army. A general, or an admiral, [G] The author of the Effay on the dramatic Character of Falstaff has related the following curious anecdote, to shew what little notion the American savages have of our point of honor. • In the laft war, (printed 1777) some Indians of America perceiving a line of Highlanders to • keep their station under every difadvantage, and under a fire which they could not effectually return, conjectured, from observation on the habit and stability of those troops, that they were • indeed the women of England who wanted courage to run away.' The Abbe Terrafson, with the true prejudice of his country-men, who can fee no manners natural that are not French, hypercriticizes the criticism of Aristotle, 'who,' he says, 'being always confufed ⚫ in his ideas, cites as an example of the abfurdly marvellous, the pursuit of Hector by Achilles, • who made figns to the Greeks not to throw their darts at the Trojan hero, that he might ⚫ have the fole glory of killing him; an act very fimple and very natural. It is fingular enough, that as the Greeks were no favourites with the feudal writers on the Trojan war, they have actually changed this very fact; and to depreciate the warlike character of Achilles, have made him do what Ariftole and Plutarch censure him for not having done. See Shakespear's Troilus and Creffida, and Mr. Stevens's note, mentioning the writers-from whom the story was principally taken. who
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. who were to hazard the national posterity by a point of honor (as Admiral Vernon is faid to have done at Porto-bello, by sending away a ship because he had faid, in the House of Commons, he would take that place with only fix ships) would be now universally censured; and that the ancients looked on this action of Achilles in the same light is plain, from a remark on it in Plutarch's Life of Pompey, where, speaking of a rash action of Pompey in assisting the Cretan pirates merely to deprive Metellus of a triumph; he compares this action with it, which he calls rather the exploit of a mad boy intoxicated with the love of fame, than of a brave man. But (with deference to the opinion of Plutarch) it does not appear that Achilles was actuated by the love of fame, but the wish to monopolize the revenge of his friend's death. His feelings refembled those of Macduff when he fays, • If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.' How much this absurdity will be encreased by the representation, appears from the [H] Regent, where the atrocity of the crimes committed renders Manuel no object on which to exercise this point of honor. The impropriety in a narration, and even in the printed play, does not strike us; but when we fee the duke and the ufurper engaged hand to hand before the ladies of the court, and the duke's armed friends, we are at once struck with it. There is an instance of forgetfulness in point of propriety, in the seventh Iliad, which I believe has escaped all the commentators, but [H] Note 1. Chap. XVII,
which in a drama would have been instantly discovered. Hector challenges one of the Greek chiefs to engage in single combat with him, in the front of both armies, just as they are on the point of engaging. (See verse 61 of the original, 69 of Pope.) And yet though the scene continues in the front of both armies, when Menelaus accepts the challenge, and when the lot falls afterwards on Ajax, they are both represented as arming for the fight, not by seizing again the sword, the spear, and the shield which they might have laid aside, but by dressing themselves in Menelaus says, armour. [1] My corflet! 'gainst the chief myself will go, • Heaven as it lift the victory bestow.' And afterwards [K] ' His manly limbs in shining arms he drest.' POPE, V. 120. And of Ajax it is faid, [L] Now Ajax brac'd his dazzling armor on, • Sheath'd in bright steel the giant warrior shone.' POPE, V. 249. In Goldsmith's novel of the Vicar of Wakefield there is a striking instance of impropriety arising from negligence. Sir William Thornhill the lover of the youngest daughter of Primrose, is all along [1] Τῶδε δ᾽ ἐγὼν ἀυτὸς θωρήξομαι. As Mr. Pope deviates here from his original, I am forced to deviate from him. [K] Original 103. [L] Original 245. represented
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. represented as in the vigour of youth [M]; and yet he must have been at least old enough to be father to his nephew, who cannot be supposed the fon of an elder brother as the title and family eftate belong to the uncle.
24.6.
mvp-aristotle-comment-106
24.15
WHOEVER RELATES ANY FACT IS APT TO ADD SOMETHING MARVELLOUS TO GRATIFY THE HEARERS.
ARISTOTLE exemplifies here the position he has laid down, as to the pleasure that arifes from the marvellous, by a circumstance which we need no ghost to tell us, is often given to their stories by those who profess to relate real facts. And this not only by fimple narrators in common conversation, but by grave historians who relate the events of nations, and make serious and political reflections on the incidents they record. Of this Herodotus has been accused, but I think, not with fufficient justice; or if he has been a little too [N] attentive in listening to, and [M] A man turned of forty may certainly be strong and vigorous and have suffered little from the attacks of time: but a man of that age is not very likely, in real life, to gain the affections of a very young woman; and in fiction, which should copy general probability and not bare possibility, a man old enough to be a grandfather should not be made a successful lover. In many of our comedies an impropriety exactly opposite to this occurs. The old man of the piece, who is generally the father of the fine gentleman or fine lady of the drama, is drawn perfectly decrepid and bent down by all the infirmities of age, more like the great-grandfather than the father of a youth of twenty-one or a girl of eighteen. [N] That Herodotus was not credulous of every marvellous story he heard we have a very curious proof in his fourth book, (Melpomene) where he gives an account of the circumnavigation of Africa, by a fleet of Phoenicians fitted out by order of Necus, king of Egypt. 3 R Thefe
and too lavish in relating some wonderful tales current among the nations he visited (for a man could not in his time become acquainted with the history of foreign nations by reading in his study), yet his impartiality in relating the disgraces of his own country, as well as of her enemies, though it incurred the cenfure of the partial Plutarch, might I think have rescued him from the farcafm of the Roman poet, the earlier history of whose country contains an improbable series of almost continual success, [o] and puts one in mind of a bragging school-boy who can beat all the rest of the school however much they may be older and bigger than himself. The first check that Roman egotism received, was from a confciousness that their fables would be detected by a communication with the historians of this Græcia mendax,'' this nation of lyars,' and especially Polybius [P]. These men affirmed, that as they failed round the coast of Africa (from the Red Sea to the straits of Gibraltar) the fun was on their right hand, i. e. to the north of them. Now we know this must have been the fact, but it was too much for the faith of Herodotus, who says expressly this is incredible to me whatever it may be to others. This passage is particularly worthy of remark, as it proves that the Cape of Good Hope had been doubled at a very early period of the art of navigation. [o] Shenstone compares the Roman history to a romance, where we are always so sure of finding the hero of the piece victorious, that we lose the pleasure arifing from expectation. [P] There is a dissertation in Livy on what would have been the event had Alexander turned his arms against Rome. In his time the Romans had never looked out of Italy. When Hannibal invaded Italy they had engaged with foreign armies and were infinitely more powerful. But had Hannibal been an independent sovereign with the resources of Alexander, inftead of the general of a commercial and jealous republic, in all human probability the Roman hiftory would have ended with the second Punic war.. Voltaire
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. Voltaire in his Questions sur l'Encyclopedie, Art. Histoire, seems to favor this partiality. He says that the famous canon laid down by Cicero for history, Ne quid falsi dicere audeat, ne quid veri non audeat,' is to be understood with some limitation, and asks, Is it the duty of the hiftorian to relate facts that may be imparted to him in confidence? Clearly not; for it certainly is the first duty of an historian, as of every body else, to be an honest man. But here Voltaire treats Cicero as he has treated Shakespear; first misrepresents his meaning, and then argues from that misrepresentation. He translates the precept thus, ' Que l'Historien n'ofe • dire une fausseté ni cacher une verité.' 'That the historian should not • dare to speak a falsehood, or conceal a truth. But this is by no means the sense of the original, which does not either express or imply, that there is no truth however foreign to public events, that hiftory should dare to conceal; but that there is no truth it should not dare to speak, which can relate only to fuch truths which it is the province of hiftory to relate. Indeed the annalist of his own times, who alone can be in the situation supposed by Voltaire, can never have the impartiality requifite for an historian. Lucian, in his Essay on the Manner in which History should be written, strongly and convincingly infifts on this impartiality. • If the historian has a private pique against any persons, it is the more necessary for him to esteem himself as a public character and to pay more regard to truth than his own enmity. And if he has a particular regard for any persons on the fame principle, he should not conceal their ⚫ crimes. There is in short only one thing, as I have faid, peculiar to • history, and to which alone it should facrifice, TRUTH [Q].' [Q] Κ᾿ὰν ἰδία μισῆ τίνας, πολὺ ἀναζκαὶολερον ἡγήσεῖαι τὸ κοινὸν, καὶ τὴν ἀλήθειαν περὶ πλείονας ποιήσεῖαι τῆς ἔχθρας. Κ᾿ὰν φιλῆ ὅμως ἐκ ἀφέξεῖαι ἁμαριάνονλος· ἙΝ γὰρ, ὡς ἔφην τῦτο, ἴδιον Ἱσορίας, καὶ μόνη θυζέον ΤΗ. ΑΛΗΘΕΙΑ، 3 R2 There
There is another kind of marvellous in which the historians are apt to imitate the poets. They will sometimes a little mistate a fact to make it more interesting. If Macbeth falls in the same battle in which Macduff, who has fuffered the greatest injuries from him, happens to be engaged on the opposite side, the poet, to give a stronger effect to the incident, makes him die by his hand; and so because Gryllus a son of Xenophon fell in the fame battle with Epaminondas, Paufanius has made the latter fall by the former, though neither Xenophon, who concludes his history with an account of that battle, nor any other historian, mention such an event [R].. It is curious to trace the progress of the marvellous from a dark to an enlightened age; and to observe how a love for it will prevail in spite of the fewer sources which a more minute and general notion of cause and effect leave it. Superftition, with all its attendant train of witches, ghosts and fairies, formerly afforded an exhaustless supply of this kind of entertainment. And even at this time a tale of any preternatural appearance will not fail to fix our attention strongly, though it will not win our belief; and even the best and most popular of modern [s] writers will fometimes infert such narratives in their works, which certainly is not done with the intent, nor has it the effect, of displeasing their readers. Natural history seized the ground that superstition was forced to abandon, and phyfical fucceeded to metaphysical wonder. The various properties of matter, the natural miracles revealed to us by the telescope and the microscope, the investigation of volcanoes and their effects, the wonder-- ful operations of electricity, and the secrets of chymistry attract the curio- [R] I am surprised that Spelman in his Life of Xenophon, should mention this as an indif putable fact. [s] See Observer, No. 71. and Andrews's Anecdotes. fity
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. fity so strongly, that with now and then a little [T] touch of the marvellous to heighten the effect, they supply the place of dreams, omens and apparitions. There is a curious observation in a Tract of Bishop Warburton, entitled [U] AN ENQUIRY INTO THE CAUSES OF PRODIGIES AND MI- RACLES AS RELATED BY HISTORIANS, which is so applicable to this subject that I shall infert it. * But, not to be over fond of an hypothesis, I sha'nt fcruple to con- * fess, that [v] truth may in fome cases beget admiration. [T] Sometimes however the marvellous is not quite so gentle in its touches, witness Animal Magnetism, and the great popularity of Lavater's book. In spite of the most enlightened philosophy, the human mind has a strong tendency to the monkish rant, Credo quod impoffibile.' [U] See Tracts by Warburton anda Warburtonian, page 87. [v] The science of astronomy ventures some times to the verge of the marvellous as in this extract. We inhabit a planet of a ftratum belonging to a compound nebula of the third form. In the crowded part of the milky way I have had fields of view that contained no less than 588 • stars, and these were continued for many minutes, so that in one quarter of an hour's time there * passed through my field of view, no fewer than 116,000 stars. Among the great number of nebulæ which I have already seen, amounting to more than 900, there are many which in all probability are equally extensive with that which we inhabit, and yet they are all separated from each other by confiderable intervals. That the milky way is a most extensive stratum of stars ⚫ of various fizes admits no longer of the least doubt; THAT OUR SUN IS ACTUALLY ONE OF THE HEAVENLY BODIES BELONGING TO IT, IS EVIDENT.' HERSCHEL. Philof. Tranf. Vol. lxxv. for 1785, quoted in a note on No. 119, of the octavo edition of the Tatler, 1789. This, in fact, is a position that may be relatively either true or false. To those parts of the universe between which and our fun the milky way is interposed it seems TRUE, to every other fituation FALSE. • First
، ، ، First mathematical truths, especially if new-invented theorems, will raise it in a very high degree. Witness the old mathematician who hit upon a confiderable discovery as he was bathing; and in an extasy and transport of mind, ran home naked through the streets. But how observable is it here, that even in a truth it is its seeming conformity to error that produces this admiration, by the common way of novelty • and furprize.' ،
24.7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-107
24.20
HOMER ALSO WAS THE BEST INSTRUCTOR HOW TO INTRODUCE SPECIOUS FALLACIES BY MEANS OF FALSE REASONING.
HOWEVER invelloped in darkness this passage is, it must I imagine, have fome relation with that in the fixteenth chapter, [w] where a discovery by false reasoning is mentioned. I think the meaning of this passage receives also some elucidation from what has been quoted from Agatho in Chapter XVIII. [x] about probable improbability, and which is again mentioned here in a fentence which almost immediately succeeds that we are now confidering. But Aristotle has enlarged still more on this in his Rhetoric, L. 11. Ch. xxiv. As for the application of this principle of false reasoning here to poetic fiction, Mr. Twining's note gives the clearest solution of it, and I perfectly think with him, that it relates to the skill of the poet, who when he forms wonderful and uncommon characters, or incidents, makes [w] See Note v. Chap. xvI. [x] See Note VII. on that chapter. their
495. POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. their actions and effects seem so clearly the natural and probable consequences of them, that the hearer, finding them so confonant with general truth, while he yields to the delusion of the tale, (Y) can perceive no absurdity in the first fictitious caufe. This conduct of the poet is no where better exemplified than in the preternatural beings of Shakespear [z]. I do not any where remember a fabulous and marvellous invention kept up in all its relations and consequences with such minute and attentive accuracy as in Swift's Voyages to Lilliput and Brobdignag. The relative fize of the inhabitants being once mentioned, the comparative dimension of their furniture, plants, animals, &c. is adhered to with almost mathematical precision. In one of the poems prefixed to Gulliver's Travels, entitled the Tears of Glumdatditch, the reader may see this consistency as grossly violated, where in two lines Gulliver, who is said a little before to be of stature scarce a span, hunts a mite, fights a nut maggot, and carries a tea-cup on his head like a milk pail.. [Y] Of this pleasing delufion Plutarch speaks in the highest terms in his TREATISE ON THE MANNER IN WHICH YOUNG MEN OUGHT TO READ THE POETS.. " In this was every art and every charm "To win the wisest and the coldest warm." POPE'S ILIAD, L. XIV. v. 247; original 216. • The deceptions of this art cannot affect the stupid and the foolish; and therefore Simonides being asked why the Thessalians were the only people of Greece whom he could not deceive, • answered because they were too ignorant to be deceived. And Gorgias defined tragedy as a • delufion, wherein the person who deluded was juster than those who did not, and persons who, were deluded wiser than those who were not.' [z] See Chap. xv. Notes I and III.. As
As I conceive this to be what Aristotle means by probable impoffibility, fo by improbable poffibility I imagine he designs such consequences as may indeed very poffibly follow vay common causes, yet are contrary to the general probability required in poetry, as in an instance before mentioned from the Two Gentlemen of Verona (A). It is neither physically or morally impoffible for a lover who has just rescued his mistress from a ravisher, to give her up to him immediately afterwards; but our feelings revolt more at this circumstance than at all the ghosts, fairies, and witches of Shakespear. The scene between Williams the foldier and Fluellin in Henry V. shew how an absurd cause may be concealed by pleasant and natural confequences. Fluellin supposes Williams a traitor because he challenges by a blow the glove the king told him the had plucked from the helmet of Alanson. But I do not recollect any of the critics have remarked that this hoftile challenge shewed him rather an enemy than a friend. May not this be partly deemed a difcovery, made by a false reasoning of the spectators [B].
24.8.
mvp-aristotle-comment-108
24.23
THE LANGUAGE OUGHT PARTICULARLY TO BE LABORED IN THOSE UNINTERESTING PARTS WHICH ARE DESTITUTE OF MANNERS AND SENTIMENT.
THE difference with which this rule must be applied to the epopee and the drama has been noticed before (c). By laboring the language [A] See Note v. Chap. xv. [C] Note VIII. Chap. xxII. [B] See Chap. xvI. Ariftotle
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. Ariftotle does not recommend the inflation of it by turgid expressions, bold figures, and studied inversion of phrafe, but the use of a style and verfification, at once elevated, fimple, smooth and melodious [D]. [D] For fome just observations on this subject, particularly as to tragedy, see Bp. Hurd's Note on ver. 94, of the Epiftle to the Pifos.. 3 S CHAP.
+ 1; THE mutilated state in which the poetic has come down to us, is no where so evident as where quotations from the poets occur, which is particularly the cafe in this chapter. Indeed these in general are fo partially and inaccurately cited, that they appear like extracts from a common-place book, where only a few words of the passage are set down from memory. The Abbé Terrasson makes a very just remark on the cause of this inaccuracy. Speaking of an erroneous quotation in Longinus, he adds, Neither is this the first citation from Homer that ⚫ the ancients have made erroneoufly; and it is exactly because they • almost knew him by heart that they were more subject to cite him unfaithfully.' I believe few modern writers trust to memory for their quotations, even from the authors with whom they are the most familiar.
Commentarius in Aristotelis Poeticam (Franciscus Ritter, 1839) (OCR draft)
(Ritter's Latin commentary, extracted from the 1839 volume, divided by Ritter's chapters and sections, and linked to the corresponding Perseus reference subsections.)
focus
1.
mvp-aristotle-comment-173
Ritter, cap. 24 § 1
Carminis epici formis et partibus breviter enumeratis, Homerum in utrisque praecellere docetur. a tragoedia differre epopoeiam et ambitu et versuum genere. porro propriae quaedam Homeri virtutes indicantur.
ἔτι δὲ τὰ εἴδη - ἔχειν καλῶς: etiam quae hoc capite de epico carmine breviter et carptim monentur, ea cum non tam sua ipsorum causa dicta quam Homeri celebrandi gratia proposita sint, cumque haec ratio longe abhorreat ab ea quam Aristoteles in tragoedia explicanda secutus est (nempe illic poetas nihil curat, genus poesis unice amplectitur), genuinam Aristotelis commentationem ab interpolatore partim in epitomam contractam partim suis quibusdam observationibus dilatatam esse et hinc probabiliter coniici potest et alia indicia commonstrant. statim primum hoc disputationis segmentum fere totum ab auctore personato concinnatum esse tam mira explicandi brevitas quam sententiae ambiguitas argumento est. sed uncis tamen totum segmentum (§. 1) includere nolui, cum technicus non tam sua inculcasse quam Aristotelia male concinnasse videatur.
ἢ γὰρ ἁπλῆν ἢ πεπλεγμένην ἢ ἠθικὴν ἢ παθητικήν: haec codices offerunt qui inspecti sunt et explorati omnes, et hisce ex puris fontibus restitutis, iam facile interpolator et sedulus enarrator (non ille antiquus sed paulo recentior ut videtur) deprehenditur: quippe ad explicanda illa
τὰ εἴδη ταὐτὰ δεῖ ἔχειν τὴν ἐποποιίαν τῇ τραγῳδίᾳ posuit
ἢ γὰρ ἁπλῆν ἢ πεπλεγμένην ἢ ἠθικὴν ἢ παθητι-
κήν, secure respiciens nonnisi casum et genus nominis
ἐποποιίαν, pro more eorum qui glossas adscribunt, non etiam structuram verborum et totius sententiae habitum. Aldus ad obscurandum sermonis vitium aut ipse aut alius corrector Italus
δεῖ εἶναι apposuit, eaque coniectura cum ceteris editoribus, tum Bekkero placuit.
καὶ γὰρ περιπετειῶν δεῖ καὶ ἀναγνωρίσεων καὶ παθημάτων: haec dicta sunt ut adprobarentur quae praecedunt,
τὰ εἴδη ταὐτὰ δεῖ ἔχειν τὴν ἐποποιίαν. conf. c. 10 et 11 et supposita c. 18, 2. epitomator idemque interpolator propter festinationem nonnisi duas formas epopoeiae (
τὴν πεπλεγμένην et
τὴν παθητικήν) nominare voluit, quibus statim in Homeri laudibus ex Aristotele transcribendis uteretur. item quattuor partium quae epico carmini cum tragoedia communes sunt (
μῦθος ἤθη διάνοια λέξις) duas postremas tantummodo nomine citavit in subsequentibus
ἔτι τὰς διανοίας καὶ τὴν λέξιν ἔχειν καλῶς: haec enim pertinent ad illa
καὶ τὰ μέρη ἔξω μελοποιίας καὶ ὄψεως ταὐτά, quamquam nonnisi mancam eorum explicationem exhibent. nonne manifesta epitomatoris vestigia agnoscis? cognosces etiam prius illud colon a nobis in adnotatione antecedente recentiori cuidam interpolatori tributum ab eo profectum esse qui totius loci rationem non perspexisset.
2.
mvp-aristotle-comment-174
Ritter, cap. 24 § 2
οἷς ἅπασιν Ὅμηρος - ἱκανῶς: observare velis, lector, quomodo quae modo generatim explicata sunt non tam propter se ipsa posita sint quam ad declarandam Homeri virtutem praemissa et monita videantur. conf. Praefatio. -
ἀναγνώρισις γὰρ διόλου καὶ ἠθική: ad probandum quod praecedit
πεπλεγμένον accedunt verba
ἀναγνώρισις γὰρ διόλου, non etiam
καὶ ἠθική: nam mores nihil pertinere ad implicationem carminis in aperto est. itaque per adiectum
καὶ ἠθική nova Odysseae indoles significatur.
3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-175
Ritter, cap. 24 § 3
τοῦ μὲν οὖν μήκους ὅρος ἱκανὸς ὁ εἰρημένος: respicit ante a sese dicta c. 7,5 et 6 et c. 23, 3.
εἴη δ᾽ ἂν τοῦτο - παρήκοιεν: haec ab homine inepto stultoque addita sunt. nam ulna epici carminis mensura definitur prorsus contra consuetudinem Aristotelis, et ulna quidem admodum incerta. sane eiusmodi descriptio ambitus nimium absurda est, cum epopoeia quamvis paucis libris composita et ne unius quidem tragoediae mensuram aequans tamen ita facta esse possit, ut unitate plane careat, h. e. ut eius initium et finis mentis oculis comprehendi (
συνορᾶσθαι) non possit, cum rursus quae multis libris constet, nihilo minus ita composita esse possit, ut unitas eius servetur. considera porro quae subsequuntur,
εἰ τῶν μὲν ἀρχαίων ἐλάττους αἱ συστάσεις εἶεν, si antiquis minores poetarum compositiones (poemata epica) sint. num igitur omnium antiquorum poetarum carmina epica nimis magna fuere, etiam Homerica? sane personati Aristotelis ea sententia fuit, ut apparet ex c. 26, 5 et 6., non veri Aristotelis. sed lege quae iam sequuntur,
πρὸς δὲ τὸ πλῆθος τῶν τραγῳδιῶν τῶν εἰς μίαν ἀκρόασιν τιθεμένων παρήκοιεν, ut miram hanc mensurae definitionem perciperemus, ante tragoediarum quae hic respiciuntur ambitum acciperemus oporteret, acciperemus etiam necesse esset quot tragoediae in unam auditionem exponi solerent. utrumque incertum relinquitur. nonnulli ex interpretibus respici trilogias vel tetralogias opinati sunt, sed ea cogitatio prorsus amovenda est. nam primum linguae leges ne id statuamus obstant, cum legamus
εἰς μίαν ἀκρόασιν, non
εἰς μίαν ὄψιν, quorum prius de auditione accipiendum est, non de spectatione. tum si trilogias vel tetralogias admittere velimus, earum quoque plures uno die Athenis agebantur, ut inde carminum epicorum mensura etiam amplior evasura esset, quam in Graecis re vera fuit. sed haud dubie verba
εἰς μίαν ἀκρόασιν de recitatione tragoediarum accipienda sunt, ut igitur interpolator morem quendam praelectionum nobis ignotum, quo semper plures tragoediae ab acroamate recitabantur, respexerit. sed nonne vides quam vaga sit eiusmodi mensura? ille enim mos pro temporibus et locis haud dubie incertus nutavit. qui talia Aristoteli tribuere sustinet, nae is summi viri ingenium male aestimaverit. postremum et summum alieni emblematis indicium est,quod eo sublato tenor explicationis non modo non turbatur, sed egregie adiuvatur.
4.
mvp-aristotle-comment-176
Ritter, cap. 24 § 4
ὑφ᾽ ὧν οἰκείων ὄντων αὔξεται ὁ τοῦ ποιήματος ὄγκος: quibus, si non aliena sunt, augetur poematis abundantia. quae una fieri narrantur
οἰκεῖα sunt, si non abhorrent a primario epopoeiae argumento.
ὄγκος τῆς λέξεως, h. e. dictionis abundantia, eodem intellectu dicitur Rhetor. III, 6. init. et opponitur
τῇ συντομίᾳ τῆς λέξεως.
τὸν ἀκούοντα: quomodocumque sustentaverimus
τὸν ἀκούοντα, stare is recto talo nequit. interpretantur
τὸν ἀκούοντα μεταβάλλειν auditorem varie disponere s. afficere, sed id quo minus probem tria obstant. nam primum
μεταβάλλειν tam nude positum id denotare nequit: immo est mutare auditorem, h. e. aut alii alium substituere aut facere, ut is qui audit alius fiat: utrumque autem a contextu sententiae alienum est. deinde mira prodit structura verborum
μεταβάλλειν τὸν ἀκούοντα καὶ ἐπεισοδιοῦν ἀνομοίοις ἐπει σοδίοις, mutare audientem et distinguere dissimilibus episodiis. quis talia inteligat, praesertim apud antiquos, qui interpunctionis adminiculo carebant? accedit tertium. non ea carminis epici natura est, ut audientem varie afficiat, immo eum aequo quodam animi tenore multo magis tenet quam tragoedia. haec me movent, ut audientem loco moveam motumque conficiendum existimem.
μεταβάλλειν iam neutra (
ουδετέρως) significatione accipiendum est : hoc boni ad magnificentiam inesse epico poemati dicit ut et mutet (h. e. varia proponat) et dissimilibus episodiis ambitum extendat.
ἐπεισοδιοῦν ἀνομοίοις ἐπεισοδ. nihil esse nisi explicationem verbi
μεταβάλλειν ex articulo semel tantum (ante
μεταβάλλειν) posito liquet. sed dicendum restat, unde hunc importune audientem acceperimus. dubitari vix posse videtur ad subsequens
πληροῦν a lectore quodam in margine positum esse
τὸν ἀκούοντα, ne obiectum ei verbo deesset. hinc alius alieno loco audientem infarsit.
5.
mvp-aristotle-comment-177
Ritter, cap. 24 § 5
adhuc expositum est, quomodo epopoeia et cur ambitu suo differret a tragoedia: iam ad alterum utriusquediscrimen, quod in metro positum est accedit.
τὸ γὰρ ἡρωϊκὸν στασιμώτατον καὶ ὀγκωδέστατον τῶν μέτρων ἐστίν: metrum heroum stabilissimum est propterea quod arsis thesisque ratio aequalis est, idemque plenissimum est, quia sex pedibus bene iunctis absolvitur. conf. Rhetor. III, 8.
τῶν δὲ ῥυθμῶν ὁ μὲν ἡρῷος σεμνός.
διὸ καὶ γλώττας - μίμησις τῶν ἄλλων: iterum Crispinus male interturbans. inepte haec adduntur, quia nihil faciunt ad naturam versus heroi, de qua agitur, definiendam, et potius primariam disputationem perturbatam et impeditam reddunt, quae hisce amotis egregie procedit: sed, quod maius est, eadem haec falsa sunt, quia ex Aristotelis sententia poesis epica non glossas et metaphoras potissimum (
μάλιστα) recipit, sed ipsa glossas, dramatica vero metaphoras potissimum amplectitur. lege mihi. c. 22, 10.
τῶν δ᾽ ὀνομάτων τὰ μὲν διπλᾶ μάλιστα ἁρμόττει τοῖς διθυράμβοις,
αἱ δὲ γλῶτται τοῖς ἡρωϊκοῖς,
αἱ δὲ μεταφοραὶ τοῖς ἰαμβείοις. Rhetor. III, 3. p. 1406. b 1. quem locum transcripsimus ad c. 22, 10. pag. 243. mire dicta sunt quae sequuntur,
περιττὴ γὰρ καὶ ἡ διηγηματική μίμησις τῶν ἄλλων, Copiosior enim etiam narrativa imitatio est ceteris; sane summam haec infantiam arguunt.
τὸ δὲ ἰαμβικὸν καὶ τετράμετρον κινητικά·
τὸ μὲν ὀρχηστικόν,
τὸ δὲ πρακτικόν: haec bene et vere exposita quantopere eminent prae suppositiciis modo detectis. similia leguntur in Rhetoricis III, 8.
ὁ δ᾽ ἴαμβος αὐτή ἐστιν ἡ λέξις ἡ τῶν πολλῶν·
διὸ μάλιστα πάντων τῶν μέτρων ἰαμβεῖα φθέγγονται λέγοντες. - -
ὁ δὲ τροχαῖος κορδακικώτερος·
δηλοῖ δὲ τὰ τετράμετρα·
ἔστι γὰρ τροχερὸς ῥυθμὸς τὰ τετράμετρα.
6.
mvp-aristotle-comment-178
Ritter, cap. 24 § 6
ὥσπερ Χαιρήμων: de Chaeremone dictum est ad c. 1, 9.
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-179
Ritter, cap. 24 § 7
Ὅμηρος δὲ κτλ. nova Homeri laus eo continetur, quod ipse pauca narrando exsequitur sed alios plerumque narrantes et dicentes inducit. conf. c. 4, 9.
οὐκ ἀγνοεῖ ὃ δεῖ ποιεῖν αὐτὸν : quid sit
ποιεῖν αὐτὸς (perse enim ambiguum est), continuo declaratur adiectis
αὐτὸν γὰρ δεῖ τὸν ποιητὴν ἐλάχιστα λέγειν. in his
ὁ ποιητής est is de quo agitur, h. e. poeta epicus.
οἱ μὲν οὖν ἄλλοι κτλ. vituperantur illi poetae quos indicavimus ad c. 23, 3. p. 246.
ἀλλ᾽ ἔχοντα ἤθη: debuit
ἀλλ᾽ ἔχον ἦθος, ut Aldus scripsit refragantibus codicibus, quamquam vel hoc tolerari vix potest post
καὶ οὐδὲν ἀηθές. istud
ἀλλ᾽ ἔχοντα ἤθη nihil est nisi vitiosa periphrasis commatis praecedentis
καὶ οὐδὲν ἀηθές.
8.
mvp-aristotle-comment-180
Ritter, cap. 24 § 8
μᾶλλον δ᾽ ἐνδέχεται ἐν τῇ ἐποποιίᾳ τὸ ἄλογον κτλ. quod ratione caret (
τὸ ἄλογον) in tragoedia admitti fere non licet ¹), magis autem licet in epopoeia, unde sponte consequitur mirum (
τὸ θαυμαστόν) quoque et magis etiam admitti posse in epopoeia, quoniam mirari nascitur potissimum ex causarum ignoratione. sed ad hoc advertere voluit lectorem verbis interpositis
δι' ὃ συμβαίνει μάλιστα τὸ θαυμαστόν, quia paulo post de eo quod mirum est tamquam epopoeiae proprio loquitur. nisi autem lenissimam Hermanni mutationem
δι' ὃ pro
διὸ eiusdemque loci dispositionem adoptaverimus, bona sententia multum corrumpitur. scilicet ante Hermannum legebatur et apud Bekkerum etiamnum legitur et distinguitur
τὸ ἄλογον.
διὸ συμβαίνει μάλιστα τὸ θαυμαστόν,
διὰ τὸ κτλ.
ἐπεὶ τὰ περὶ τὴν Ἕκτορος δίωξιν - ὁ δὲ ἀνα - νεύων: respicit versus Iliadis X. 205-207. similiter Megaclides grammaticus, de quo in scholiis ad h. 1. refertur (apud Bekkerum p. 595 a 42),
Μεγακλείδης πλᾶσμα εἶναί φησι τοῦτο τὸ μονομάχιον·
πῶς γὰρ τοσαύτας μυριάδας νεύματι ᾿Αχιλλεὺς ἀπέστρεφεν; digna sunt etiam quae huc transcribantur verba Hermanni (ex Comment. eius ad h. 1. p. 176): "ac mirum sane et paene incredibile, non solum Graecos in summo discrimine a telis coniiciendis sibi temperasse, sed 1) Conf. c. 15, 7.
ἄλογον δὲ μηδὲν εἶναι ἐν τοῖς πράγμασιν,
εἰ δὲ μή,
ἔξω τῆς τραγωδίας.etiam Achillem concitatissimo cursu ruentem capitis motu id potuisse magno exercitui imperare."
9.
mvp-aristotle-comment-181
Ritter, cap. 24 § 9
ἔστι δὲ τοῦτο παραλογισμός: vera et dextra mendaciorum in epopoeia expromendorum ratio
παραλογισμὸν efficit, et ita quidem efficit ut falsis vera nonnulla admixta proferat. -
τοῦτο δ᾽ ἐστὶ ψεῦδος: non semper hoc falsum est, sed tum falsum est, si prius ex altero quod verum est non ita pendet, ut effectus ex causa; et hoc Aristoteles dicere voluit.
διὸ δή,
ἂν τὸ πρῶτον ψεῦδος –
προσθεῖναι: convertas et distinguas: cur vero, si prius falsum, dum alterum hoc verum est, cogimur ut id (h. e. prius) aut esse aut factum esse adiiciamus ? deprehendas quaeso, lector, interpolatorem et molestum eorum quae proxime praecesserunt enarratorem. scilicet ut quae modo tam breviter quam sapienter monita sunt, ea ne prave lectores accipiant, auctor personatus interrogat: "quid cogit ut, si prius falsum alterum autem verum est, etiam prius esse aut factum esse adiiciamus?" idem continuo respondet: nam quia hoc (alterum) verum esse scimus, etiam prius falsa ratiocinatione pro vero anima nostra accipit. tum adiicit exemplum hoc ex Niptris esse. iam primum aliquis quaesiverit, cur eam explicationem interpolatori potius quam ipsi Aristoteli sua bis enuntiaturo vindicaverim, quae respondeam haec habeo. 1. quae istam quaestionem et responsionem antecedit rei expositio, ea et melius et rectius rem declarandam explicat, quam illo additamento fieri videmus. itaque et interrogatio inepta est et responsio inutilis. porro recte dicit Aristoteles homines opinari, h. e. vulgo sive fere opinari, verum esse prius, si esse alterum sciverint quod post prius accidere soleat: interpolator vero idem necessario fieri falso putat. 2. loquendi ratio commentatorem prodit. pro Aristotelio
πρότερον et
ὕστερον ille ponit
πρῶτον et
ἄλλον, pro
οἴονται ἄνθρωποι admittit
παραλογίζεται ἡμῶν ἡ ψυχή. 3. hanc explicationem, quomodo falsa loqui conveniat, exemplum (
παράδειγμα) perverse appellat, idque ex Niptris petitum esse dicit: scilicethuiusmodi falsa quae descripsit Aristoteles, in Niptris esse, et inde eorum descriptionem sumptam esse dicere voluit. sed restat quo praecipue attendi velim. singulas Iliadis et Odysseae partes et in vita communi et a grammaticis propriis nominibus appellatas esse satis quidem constat; constat etiam eorum nominum nonnulla prius exstitisse, quam disciplina et ars grammatica Alexandriae agitari coepisset, prius exstitisse, quam utriusque carminis divisio in viginti quattuor libros instituta esset. sed nihilo minus ego id confidenter pronuntio, in Niptris referri locum illum Odysseae T. 172-248, ubi Ulixes coram Penelopa multa mendacia veri similia profert, non potuisse, antequam quae nunc libro XIX leguntur secreta a ceteris et in unum coniuncta essent, h. e. antequam Odyssea in viginti quattuor rhapsodias distributa esset. nam quae illic posita sunt a versu 1 usque ad 334, ubi
τὰ νίπτρα (Ulixis lavatio) vere incipiunt, ea nihil per se cohaerent cum lavatione Ulixis. inde consequitur locum illum 172- 248 de quo loquimur tum demum in
Νίπτροις referri potuisse, cum versus illi 604, qui hodie librum undevicesimum efficiunt, in unum librum coniuncti et a loco illo eximio (v. 335- 509) nomine
τῶν Νίπτρων consignati essent. scimus autem divisionem utriusque carminis in viginti quattuor libros quos hodie legimus ab Aristarcho 2) demum institutam esse. itaque ille qui haec interposuit post Aristarchum vixit. Restat ut dicamus de huius loci recte scribendi ratione. quod sub initium codices exhibent,
ἀνάγκη εἶναι ἢ γενέσθαι ἢ προσθεῖναι, in eo neque iustam structuram neque sensum aliquem agnoscere licet: necesse est esse aut factum esse 2) Vid. grammat. de poesi Hom. 2.
εἰσὶν αὐτῷ ποιήσεις δύο,
Ἰλιὰς καὶ Ὀδύσσεια διηρημένη ἑκατέρα εἰς τὸν ἀριθμὸν τῶν στοιχείων,
οὐχ ὑπ᾿ αὐτοῦ τοῦ ποιητοῦ,
ἀλλ᾽ ὑπὸ τῶν γραμματικῶν τῶν περὶ ᾿Αρίσταρχον (h. e. ab ipso Aristarcho, de qua dicendi consuetudine v. Lehrsii Quaest. epic. p. 28. not.). conf. Eustath. p. 5 extr. et Wolfii Frolegom. ad Hom. p. CCLVI. not.aut adiicere, quid hoc est? nihil est. prius
ἢ post vocem
ἀνάγκη in
η exeuntem oblitteratum et deinde alieno loco ante
προσθεῖναι repetitum est. hoc si suo loco redditur, exit et sententia et structura haud inepta, quid cogit (
διὸ ἀνάγκη), ut id esse aut factum esse (mente) adiiciamus? hic nihil durum est nisi obiecti (
τὸ πρῶτον) omissio, quod tamen ex antecedentibus huc trahere licet, et aliquid duritiei huius hominis stilo libenter concedimus. in extremis
παράδειγμα δὲ τοῦτο ἐκ τῶν Νίπτρων optimi quique libri exhibent
τοῦτο, dico AcBc et Mediceos XIV 16 21 et GLPQ, minus boni Na et Mediceus 14
τούτων, ubi
ων exitus ortus est ex subsequentibus
ἐκ τῶν Νίπτρων. Hermannus
τούτου scripsit pro
τοῦτο, eumque secutus est Bekkerus: sed iam non
ἐκ τῶν Νίπτρων sed
ἐν τοῖς Νίπτροις scribi oportuit, quam scribendi licentiam Hermannus coniectura admodum incerta excusare conatus est.
10.
mvp-aristotle-comment-182
Ritter, cap. 24 § 10
haec quoque proferuntur ad Homeri virtutem declarandam, quod magis apparebit, ubi insiticia secreta erunt.
ἀδύνατα εἰκότα: sunt v. gr. illa quae paedagogus Sophocleus de Oreste in certamine Pythico interempto narrat: nam certamina Pythica nondum erant, cum aevum ageret Orestes. vid. Electr. v. 680-763. item
ἀδύνατα εἰκότα illa sunt, quae Virgilius de Aenea Carthaginem delato refert: siquidem Carthago nondum erat, cum Aeneas patriam suam relinqueret. contra
δυνατὰ ἀπίθανα illa sunt quae de Ulixe somno sopito et exposito in Ithacam ab Homero in Odysseae libro XIII narrantur; item talia admitteret qui Achillem occiso Patroclo amico nihilo minus irascentem Agamemnoni et a pugna abstinentem produceret.
ἀλλὰ μάλιστα - Μυσίαν ἥκων: haec Aristoteles ipse non scripsit 3). nimirum ipse, dum scribit
τους τε λόγους μὴ συνίστασθαι ἐκ μερῶν ἀλόγων, carminum epicorum argumenta intelligit et perapte pergit
ὥστε τὸ λέγειν κτλ. sed auctor personatus hanc de argumentis epicis disputatio- 3) Idem hoc intellexit Gruppius in Ariadna p. 555 sq.nem importune interrumpens impotenter revolvitur ad tragoedias et exempla imperite et inepte prolata. primum
ἀλογίας exemplum sumptum est ex Sophoclis Oedipo rege, et tota haec observatio additis nonnullis ex iis quae verus Aristoteles c. 15, 7. monuerat transcripta est. hoc excusat, ut Aristoteles ante excusaverat. sed idem homuncio in iis quae continuo ab ipso inventa sequuntur Sophoclem audet reprehendere, quod is in Electra (v. 680 sqq.) narrantem induxerit, quomodo Orestes in certamine Pythico vitam amiserit, cum ea aetate non essent Pythica certamina. itane vero hoc reprehendi potest? minime. verus Aristoteles sedulum interpolatorem veriora docere potuisset, scilicet quae de illo certamine proferuntur sunt
ἀδύνατα εἰκότα, quae ab Ar. probantur. itaque personatus auctor non solum inique et absurde vituperavit summum poetam sed in ipsius Aristotelis praecepta offendit.
ὁ ἄφωνος ἐκ Τεγέας εἰς τὴν Μυσίαν ἥκων: quis hic fuerit primus docte explicuit Tyrwhittus in adnotatione ad h. 1. scripta. Telephus erat, qui ob caedem cognatorum a se commissam loqui abstinuit antequam lustraretur. vid. Hygini fab. 244. Telephus Herculis filius (occidit) Hippothoum et Nerea aviae suae filios. Athenaeus VI. p. 224 E. X. p. 421 D. Tzetzes ad Lycophr. 206. Stephan. Byzant. s. v.
Οἶος. tragoediam
Μυσούς et Aeschylus et Sophocles docuerunt, et nonnulla utriusque fragmenta exstant. Aeschylia hic intelligi videtur, quamvis proxime duae Sophoclis fabulae commemoratae sint. Telephus intra fabulam talis qualem significat interpolator ostendi poterat, ut primum spectatoribus Tegeae versatus, deinde in Mysiam profectus repraesentaretur. duo alia restant indicia quibus haec pro falsis convincantur. primum est articuli omissio (
ἐν Ἠλέκτρᾳ,
ἐν Μυσοῖς) grammaticorum propria, ab Aristotelis scribendi consuetudine aliena. conf. nota ad c. 23, 4. alterum indicium est quod haec ex parte c. 25, 17. repetuntur. interpolator enim opes suas adeo amavit, ut eas bis propinare ac venditare gestiret.
ἂν δὲ θῇ: subintelligendum
τὸ ἄτοπον ὁ ποιητής.
ἐπεὶ καὶ τὰ ἐν Ὀδυσσείᾳ ἄλογα –
ἡδύνων τὸ ἄτοπον: significat Odysseae N. 70-125, in hisce prudentissimi viri integrum iudicium quaeso agnoscas, articulus ante
Ὀδυσσείᾳ hic recte abest: non enim indicare voluit quaecumque
ἄλογα inessent Odysseae, sed singularia illa ad expositionem Ulixis pertinentia.
11.
mvp-aristotle-comment-183
Ritter, cap. 24 § 11
πάλιν: est quod Latini dicunt rursus, Theotisci andrer Seits. cf. c. 6, 3.
