13.3.
mvp-aristotle-comment-40
13.3
NEITHER SHOULD A VERY BAD MAN BE REPRESENTED AS FAL- LING FROM HAPPINESS TO MISERY; FOR THOUGH SUCH AN ARRANGEMENT MIGHT BE AGREEABLE TO OUR FEELINGS, IT WOULD EXCITE NEITHER PITY NOR TERROR. FOR ONE OF THESE PASSIONS IS EXCITED BY THE MISFORTUNES OF AN INNOCENT PERSON; THE OTHER BY THE MISFORTUNES OF A PERSON IN THE SAME SITUATION WITH OURSELVES; --SUCH AN EVENT, THEREFORE, WOULD BE NEITHER DISTRESSFUL NOR ALARMING.
IT is very obvious that Ariftotle [B], though he blames this mode of arranging the fable, at least prefers it to that which he has last mentioned, as not incurring the double defect of being disagreeable to our feelings, and at the same time not calculated to excite either pity or terror, and therefore totally repugnant to the nature and end of tragedy. What were the sentiments of the critic with regard to the comparative demerits of this, and the first mode, we can only conjecture, as he is himself filent on the subject; but from the general doctrine he advances, (at least in this chapter,) we must suppose his sentence would be most in favor of the first, as having tragic effect, though difagreeable to our feelings. The Fatal Curiosity of Lillo, which [c] Mr. Harris (I suppose by [B] See note VI. chap. XVIII. [c] See Philological Enquiries, p. 154. Mr. Harris seems to have mistaken the circumtance from which this play takes its name; he supposes the opening the casket to be the FATAL CURIOSITY, but I should rather conceive it to be the defire of the young man to fee the effect of his unexpected return on his parents. Ii way
way of a dramatic paradox) has chofen to compare with the Edipus, falls exactly under the censure of this passage. The misery arifes from no sudden start of paffion, or involuntary error, but from the cruel and deliberate murder of an innocent youth for the fake of his property. Would Mr. Harris (to anticipate a definition in the subsequent part of this chapter) allow this hoary ruffian, and his wife, who murder their fleeping guest with the same purpose and from the fame motive as the midnight housebreaker, to be persons of high reputation and profperity, whose misfortunes arise from some error of human frailty, and whose general characters and conduct in life are rather better and of higher dignity than the illustrious names produced from the annals of Greece; for so the critic says they ought to be if the circumstances allow it. This opinion of Mr. Harris seems to have in great measure arifen from the explanation he gives to the term [D] GOOD, (χρηςός) as applied by Ariftotle to manners. It is to be remarked, that there is another arrangement which Aristotle has omitted; that of a virtuous character raised from distress to profperity, which would at least on his own principles come under the fame class with that which is the object of the present note, being agreeable to our feelings but not productive, according to his hypothesis, of tragic effect, though in reality it is capable of producing it in the highest degree. Since while the principal character, in whose favor the spectators must be most strongly interested appears involved in deep distress, and his destruction appears inevitable, the passions of pity and terror will be violently excited; and, if the tragedy possesses the most perfect form, [D] Philological Enquiries, p. 170. For a different explanation of this term, see note 1, unit-
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. [E] uniting the discovery, and peripetía with the catastrophe, this will continue through the greatest part of the piece. Aristotle himself says in this passage, that pity is excited by the sufferings of innocence, and there is no reason why the character should not also possess that equality of fituation which he requires as calculated to raise terror. Perhaps on confidering this subject very attentively, weighing all the reasoning of Aristotle on the subject, recollecting how capable fuch an arrangement is of producing pity and terror, and with what thin shades such a character may be diftinguished from that which he afterwards points out as proper for tragedy, we may be the less surprised at his not being perfectly fatisfied with his own hypothesis as to the tragic catastrophe. For to some such wavering of opinion I think, we must impute part of what he says on this fubject in the next chapter [F]. When Aristotle speaks of similitude of character as essential to excite terror, it is obvious he does not mean as to rank in life, but as to difposition, virtue, and domeftic connections; for high rank in life was necessary, both from the practice of the Greek theatre, and the doctrine of Ariftotle, to the principal persons of tragedy. A private citizen of Athens, or of London, might be exactly in the same situation with Edipus, though a monarch, as to every circumstance on which the diftress of the tragedy turns. But though the tale of domestic forrow in private life was not admitted, either into the drama or epopee in the time of Ariftotle, he nevertheless could fee, that the effects of pity and terror must increase in proportion to the resemblance of character in every [E] See chap. xΙ. [F] See note IV, chap. xiv. where there is an attempt to account for this seeming inconsistency on other principles. Ii 2 respect.
respect. For he says in another place [G], 'We pity those who are our equals in age, in manners, in habits, in rank, and in family, fince in • all these circumstances of likeness, the fame things are most likely to ، ، happen to ourselves; and we may conclude in general, that those events which we fear should happen to ourselves, excite our pity when they happen to others.' As a farther illustration of this, and of what I have [H] before advanced, concerning the private life tragedy, especially in prose, I shall produce a quotation from the much admired work of the Abbé Barthelemi. • ZOPIRUS. And why do you not sometimes select these great mif- • fortunes, from the events of private life? They would affect me • much more strongly if I saw them continually happen on every fide ‹ of me. • THEODECTUS. I do not know, if they were drawn by a skilful hand, whether they would not excite our feelings too strongly. When • I take my examples from a rank much fuperior to your own, I leave you the liberty of applying them to yourself, and at the fame time the hope of escaping their consequences.' VOYAGE DU JEUNE ANA- CHARSIS, Chap. LXXI. Tom. IV. p. 32. French Ed. 4to. [C] Καὶ τοὺς ὅμοιους ἐλεῖυσι καθ᾽ ἡλικίαν, κατ᾽ ἤθη, κάθ᾿ ἕξεις, κατ᾿ ἀξιώματα, κατὰ γένει· ἐν πᾶσι γὰρ τούτοις, μᾶλλον φαίνεθαι καὶ ἀυτῷ ἂν ὑπάρξαι· ὅλως γὰρ καὶ ἐνλᾶυθα δεῖ λαβεῖν, ὅτι ὅσα ἐφ᾽ ἀνθῶν φιβᾶνται, ταῦτα ἐπ᾿ ἄλλων γιγνόμενα ἐλεῦσιν. ARIST. RHET. L. II. CH. VII. [H] See note 1, chap. IV. The
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. The observations as to the equality of character, extend to unnatural perfection as well as to unnatural deformity, though in a less degree. If a character is drawn compleatly vicious, it is impossible we can place ourselves so in the situation, as to bring it at all home to our own bosoms. We cannot interest ourselves in the fortune of a person, who we are conscious neither resembles ourselves nor any thing else in nature, or pity misfortunes which at once are the consequence and punishment of crimes we abhor. This excess of guilt is I believe seldom, if ever, afsigned to a principal character, but it is sometimes to be met with in fubordinate ones: Glenalvon is a confummate villain, without one quality to foften our indignation and disgust; [1] fince his brutal courage, folely employed in treachery and affaffination, only ferves to encrease our deteftation of him. The defect of the too perfect character is not so obvious. We can indeed at once fee that as to the first cafe, the want of interest on account of fimilarity of manners and situation, the consequence is nearly, if not exactly the fame. I believe Sir Charles Grandifon is much less a favorite with every reader than Tom Jones. But why we are less affected with pity by the sufferings of a perfect than an imperfect character, is not so clear. For if, as Aristotle says, pity is excited by misfortunes that are unmerited; this must apply most strongly to a character completely virtuous [K]. The cause however why we do not sympathife fo [1] See note 1, chap. xv. [K] In the passage quoted in note (G) from the Rhetoric, it appears that the paffions of pity and terror, as laid down there by Aristotle, are only modifications of the fame passion, diftinguished by the force with which they act on our own feelings, and which both depend on the resemblance of the condition and character of the fufferer to those of our own. much
A COMMENTARY ON THE CHAP. XIII. much with the sufferings of a perfect as an imperfect character, may perhaps arife from this circumftance. The resolution in misfortune, the intrepidity in danger, the contempt of pain and death, which are always shewn in a great and heroic character, take off much of our sense of his distress. We may revere, we may wish to emulate such a character, but we cannot feel strongly for a person who disdains to feel for himself. [L] When Iphigenia throws herself at her father's feet, and by the most tender supplications requests him to spare her life, we feel the strongest impreffions of pity; but when assuming a higher resolution, she resolves to devote herself for the glory of her country, we venerate the heroine indeed, but our tears for the trembling virgin are instantly dried. The observation of Horace, [M] To make ME grieve be first your anguish shewn, • And I shall feel your forrows like my own,' COLMAN. is as applicable to the poet's imitation of the character as the actor's performance of it. There is a just observation in the Tatler (No. 30) on this fingularity of feeling. Speaking of two rivals who were killed at the battle of Almanza, Steele makes this remark: 'The beloved lady is a woman of a sensible mind; but she has confefsed to me, that ⚫ after all her true and solid value for Conftant, she had much more concern for the loss of Careless. These noble and ferious spirits • have fomething equal to the adversities they meet with, and confequently lessen the objects of pity. Great accidents seem not cut out • so much for men of familiar characters, which makes them more eafily • pitied and soon after beloved.' [L] In the Iphigenia in Aulis of Euripides. See note VI. chap. xv. [м] ► Si vis me flere, dolendum eft • Primum ipfi tibi.' NOTE
