Poetics. Aristotle. Thomas Twining (Translator). London, UK. 1789.
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Poetics (Thomas Twining, 1789) (OCR draft) (English) (Thomas Twining's English translation of Aristotle's Poetics, published in 1789 and aligned to the Kassel reference passage sequence.)
Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.
17.
mvp-aristotle-comment-349
105.
mvp-aristotle-comment-105
NOTE 105. P. 91.
14.15
BUT OF ALL THESE WAYS, &C.
All this is not a little
embrouillé. Aristotle describes three ways only. Then he says, or seems to say,—"There is no other way:" —
παρα ταυτα ουκ εστιν αλλως. And to prove this, he enumerates all the ways possible; which, at last, turn out to be four. Hence the text has been supposed defective. Perhaps there is no occasion to suppose this. That, at least, there is no accidental omission of a fourth case, (that of purposing without executing,) seems pretty clear from the expression,
ΕΤΙ δε τριτον παρα ταυτα: "there is still a third way beside these". It would have been rather strange, if, immediately after this, he had proceeded to mention a fourth way.—Taking then the passage as perfect, we must understand, I think, by
ουκ ΕΣΤΙΝ αλλως, not—there is no other way possible—but, there is no other
proper, admissible way:
non licet aliter—it must not be done in any other way. For, he proceeds, there are but four ways possible; but of all these, (
τουτων δε—i. e. these four possible ways,) that of being "ready to execute, knowingly, and yet not executing," is the worst, and not to be enumerated by a critic among those ways which a Poet may be allowed to use. Thus Dacier appears to have understood the passage, by his translation, which, I think, is right, as to the sense. But I thought Aristotle's meaning might be clearly enough expressed without periphrasis, or supplement.
14.4.
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14.15
AND THERE IS NO OTHER METHOD EXCEPT THESE, FOR A PER- SON MUST EITHER ACT, OR NOT ACT, AND MUST EITHER KNOW, OR BE IGNORANT OF, THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE ACTION.
OF these methods, according to the opinion of Aristotle, at least as delivered in this chapter, the following is the order in point of merit, beginning according to his usual custom with the lowest degree. First, for the character to meditate some atrocious crime, perfectly acquainted with its consequence and the relation which the object of it bears to him, and to desist from the perpetration of it from a change of sentiment. The example Aristotle brings of this is the intention of Hæmon to kill his father in the Antigone of Sophocles... The Love Triumphant of Dryden furnishes a modern instance. The catastrophe of As You Like It, depends on the ufurper changing his purpose.. Secondly, for a character in the same predicament to execute the purpose. Medea is the example of Aristotle. We may produce Othello and Macbeth. Thirdly, for a character to perform some terrible action ignorant of the consequence, and the relation of the object, and to make the discovery afterwards; of this Edipus and the Orphan are examples. Fourthly,
Fourthly, for a character, in the fame circumstance with the last, to discover the consequence and the relation before the purpose is executed. Of this Merope will ferve both for an ancient and modern example. Dryden's Conquest of Granada furnishes another. Discovery of persons is not so often the hinge on which the modern drama turns, as discovery of innocence or other circumstances. In which cafe the first and last species will be often blended. (P) Othello will be removed from the second to the third class, which will also comprehend Zara [2]. Having stated these different forms, it remains to examine how far Aristotle appears right as to the respective rank in which he classes them according to their comparative excellence, and particularly to enquire how far he is justified in the fevere sentence he passes on the first; and how the preference he appears to give the last can be reconciled with the opinion he delivers as to tragedy, in the preceding chapter. In doing this, I shall endeavour as much as I am able, to keep the observations on the respective forms separate. Though from the neceffity of comparing them with each other, it will be impoffible sometimes to avoid blending them. In regard to the first arrangement; its only difference from the second arifes from the want of the pathos, the actual suffering of fome person, [P] For want of a circumstance of this fort the fable of Medea is infinitely more shocking, and less interesting than that of Othello. The discovery of Iago's villainy, and Desdemona's innocence, are affecting in the highest degree. [Q] When the first and second species have no discovery whatever, they will of course remain as classed by Ariftotle. which
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. which Aristotle thinks so necessary for tragedy; and the decision of Aristotle in this place, makes his preference of such tragedies as Merope still more wonderful; since this mode has exactly the same difference from the second that the fourth has from the third; for the improbability of the change of fentiment, on which something might be faid, is not what Ariftotle censures, but the want of (R) effect, because no perfon fuffers. In the tragedy of Macbeth, the first and second modes are mixed. Macbeth and his wife are both acquainted with their relation to Duncan,, by the joint ties of blood, of gratitude, of allegiance, and of hofpitality. The former executes the act, while Lady Macbeth on the point of doing it defifts, because as she says, he ' resembled her father as he fslept.' This stroke has been frequently admired, as marking the natural tenderness and sympathy of the female fex in action, even when capable of urging another to the most atrocious deeds of cruelty. [s] Metastasio approves this first arrangement as giving the strongest powers of marking and concluding the struggle between the various contending suggestions of love, of reason, of manners, and of despair, by an act of fuicide; and he draws his example from the same source with Aristotle, the Antigone of Sophocles. If Hæmon, worked up to the highest degree of frenzy, by the struggle between conjugal love and [R] Ου τραγικὸν, απαθὲς γὰρ.. [s] ESTRATTO DELLA POETICA, page 272. The reader who wishes to compare this with Metastasio, will observe, that he enumerates the forms according to their merit, while I have followed the order of Aristotle. parental
parental cruelty, on the point (T) of plunging his sword into the bosom of his father, had turned it against his own; he observes, and justly, that in such an arrangement the paffions of pity and terror would be strongly excited, and the indispensable (u) Ariftotelian pathos, the perturbation arifing from the fight of wounds, and death, still preserved. But this production of pity and terror, arifing from a struggle between remorse and paffion as to the commiffion of an atrocious crime, and terminating in the resolution of committing it, whether fuch resolution is actually carried into execution or not, is branded by Aristotle with the epithet of [x] disgustful. Corneille is of a different opinion from Ariftotle as to this. He allows indeed the theatrical effect which attends the discovery incident to the third and fourth modes, and especially the fourth, to be particularly striking; and that the incident in Merope (of which I shall speak more at large presently) is the most affecting that can be imagined. But he adds, all this beauty is confined to the single moment of the discovery; ' that is to fay, the end of the drama (v); throughout the whole course ' of which the principal character remains in the same situation of [T] I do not recollect such an incident in any regular modern drama; but there is something like it in an anomalous dramatic poem of Lord Lansdowne's, called the British Enchanters, where Conftantius in despair, catches his favored rival by the throat, and is on the point of stabbing him, till recollecting the distress it will bring on his mistress, he exclaims, • But for Oriana's fake 'tis better here,' and instantly kills himself. [U] 'Patos Ariftotelico." [*] μιαρόν. [x] Which by the way is not the cafe in the modern tragedies of Merope. • wishing
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. • wishing to kill a person neither connected by friendship or confanguinity. A fituation not tragical, according to Ariftotle himself. From • whence the poet can find no opportunity of agitating the paffions. But on the contrary in the other cafe, (that of Medea) where an atrocious • deed is knowingly purposed and executed; the continual agitation of ⚫ the principal character always fluctuating between love and rage, be- ، tween the defire of vengeance and the horror of the deed, will not be • confined to the catastrophe but will pervade the whole tragedy. Since • the causes which lead by degrees to the conception of so horrid a design, the repugnancy of natural affection, the passions of rage and * tenderness that must alternately prevail, will furnish the poet with ample materials for shewing his principal character in situations always new, always violent, and always perplexing, till the last impulfe that • finally fixes his resolution.' It is impoffible to avoid feeing the truth and justice of these remarks. Why then should Aristotle call this arrangement disgustful? Perhaps we may trace the cause in the nature of the ancient theatre, which, rather calculated to represent [z] action than paffion, was ill qualified for the exhibition of this struggle between those contending sensations, which could not, in cases of extreme guilt especially, be opened at large in the prefence of a chorus [A], and therefore the criminal intent appears to the audience in all its horrors, without any alleviating circumstance. [z] See Note VII, Chap. XIII. [A] In the Medea of Euripides, the chorus argue strongly with her on her unnatural defign. The struggle in her own bosom is drawn in much fainter colors; and her fixed resolution in fo horrid a design is well calculated to excite the disgust mentioned by Ariftotle. Pp In
In this point, that is in the continuation of the interest arifing from contending and contradictory passions, the first and second modes exactly agree. It remains to examine the catastrophe in which they differ. The prevention of the perpetration of a horrid crime by suicide, as proposed by Metaftafio [B], would certainly have a good theatrical effect, but it does not exactly come under the censure that Ariftotle gives to the catastrophe occafioned by the change of mind only, without any positive action, and therefore is not an answer to it. When in the course of the struggle, reason alone preponderates againft paffion, and the character desists from acting, merely from reflection, the conflict will either not appear to be carried to the highest pitch, or the change of purpose will seem to want a fufficient cause [c]; for if it happens from any extraneous cause whatever, apparently adequate to work such a change, it will have all the effect of a discovery, and the species will be changed from the first to the fourth. [B] Racine has managed this matter in a very extraordinary mode in his tragedy of the Thebaide. Creon and his fon are rivals for the affections of Antigone. Hæmon is killed in trying to feparate Eteocles and Polynices, who, as is well known, fell each by the other's fword in fingle combat; and Creon finding his rivals, both in love and ambition, removed by the death of his fon and his kinsmen, offers his hand and his throne to Antigone, who chose rather to facrifice her life to the memory of her lover and her brothers. On which Creon, after having called on heaven to deftroy him with a thunder bolt, faints away in the arms of his guards; reminding us a little of Kitty's speech in THE WHAT D'YE CALL IT. • Lead me to bed and there I'll moan and weep, < And close these weary eyes in death or fleep.' [c] It must be acknowledged that the story of Coriolanus, which is certainly a very good one for a tragedy, depends on a change of resolution; and the fame may be faid of Dryden's Love Triumphant, on the catastrophe of which he prided himself, and which is really a good But in both these cases, the change of resolution is occafioned by conclusive reasoning and earnest resolution: the combat is violent, and the victory gradual. one. • A French
A French poet, M. de Longe Pierre, has chosen to give this arrangement to the story of Medea, whom he has represented on the • very point of murdering her infants; but at the instant she is going to facrifice them to her vengeance, her tenderness revives, the dagger • falls from her hands, she is not able to perpetrate the crime she • had meditated, which occafioned a surprise as lively as it was unexpected.' I have quoted this from the work of an anonymous French writer, entitled PRINCIPES POUR LA LECTURE DES POETES. If the French poet has taken this liberty with the fable of Medea, and transferred it from the second species to the first, an eminent writer of our own has chosen to give the fable of Edipus, or at least the most disgusting, if not the most tragic part of it, with heightened circumstances and another name, the form of an intentional perpetration. I mean the printed, though unpublished tragedy, of the MYSTERIOUS MOTHER. If as Ariftotle, and after him Horace affert, the poet to affect others must put himself into the situation of his character, one would wonder how such a work could be [D] the production of the elegant and humane author to whom it is ascribed. I cannot however here avoid the mention of one of the finest possible dramatic effects that it contains; which though a natural event, has all the force and the appearance of a ma- [D] One of the reasons given by Plato in his Republic, 1. III. for banishing the poets from his commonwealth is, because from putting themselves often in the situations of vicious men, whose sentiments they want to express, they will in time be apt to acquire those manners which they are so often in the habit of imitating. I believe this observation is more ingenious than true. Nothing is more common than to see the poetical and natural character of the fame person perfectly at variance with each other. The gloomy genius of Young's muse was not confined to his Night Thoughts, it is strongly to be traced through all his tragedies; and yet he is faid to have been a very chearful man, and to have actually been the first to fet on foot an affembly at Welwyn, in Hertfordshire, where he resided.
Pp2 chine.
chine. I mean when the priest is opening to his colleague his horrid scheme, and his determination to perfift in it, the fudden interruption by a voice from within crying, Forbear!' which strikes even such a character with horror, till the repetition of it shews both him and the spectators, that it is only the first word of a choral hymn, sung behind the scenes. As the first and fecond modes are exactly alike in the course of the fable, fo are the third and fourth, and only diftinguished by the cataftrophe. The principal observations therefore as to the comparative merit of these forms must relate to the catastrophe, which will neceffa-- rily involve in them those circumstances in which they agree. The first thing that strikes us here is the seeming contradiction in the opinion of the critic, who apparently gives the preference, and that in a very strong expreffion, to that catastrophe which feems only to differ from the other in terminating in happiness instead of distress. His opinion on that point has not only been decidedly given in the preceding chapter, but even in this; for he does not blame the catastrophe in the first form because it is brought about by improbable means, but because. it is not tragical.. Many have been the labors of critics, and translators, to clear up this point, and reconcile the opposite doctrines. But I own I think none of them fatisfactory. Some of these I shall state which appear the most plausible, at the fame time mentioning my own objections to them. But while I confefs this general dissatisfaction, as to all that the searches of others, or my own reason can suggest on this subject, my opinion is inclined to that of M. Leffing, though. I do not entirely subscribe to his
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. his solution of the difficulty. That ingenious and candid critic, after mentioning a fellow-countryman, Mr. Curtius, who declares it to be his idea that Ariftotle has not treated this article with his usual exactness, proceeds thus: ' I own this does not appear probable to me. A • writer like Aristotle is scarcely liable to fuch flagrant contradiction; • when therefore I find the appearance of it in the works of such a man, • I distrust my own judgment rather than his. I redouble my attention; • I read the passage ten times; and I am not able to perfuade myself he * can have contradicted what he has formerly afferted till after I have • examined, through all the combination of his system, how and on what account he could be drawn into that contradiction; and if I do not • find any thing that gave rise to it, and which must in some measure ' have rendered it inevitable, I am convinced it is only apparent, for * otherwise it must have occurred to Aristotle, who had fo often exa- ' mined his matter with more attention than I can possibly have done, • who enter newly on the subject and chuse him for my guide [E].' Just as this reasoning is in general, it is not however absolutely conclufive, and especially the last sentence. Though a man must know his own meaning better than another, it does not follow that he shall have formed a regular chain of causes and confequences in a [F] hasty sketch, which I conceive this piece to be, and not a finished work. Or even if it was, who has ever yet formed a compofition in which it is impoffible for criticism to find a fingle inaccuracy? On this ground we may fuppose, (I hazard it merely as a conjecture,) that the philosopher who has mentioned the [G] intent to kill as equivalent to the actual execution of that intent, in examining the subject farther, and being inquisitive after [E] Dramaturgie, Part 1. page 178.. [c] Ἢ ἀποκτείνη ἢ μέλλη.. [F] See preface.. truth,
A COMMENTARY ON THE CHAP. XIV. truth, and not supporting an hypothesis, without confidering exactly what he had faid before, might be led to remark, that if the tragic effect was carried to the greatest height, and the distressful catastrophe seemed inevitable, it was better to avoid the commiffion of a deed too [H] shocking for representation, even through ignorance of the relation, though the consequence should be, a catastrophe accompanied by a change from mifery to happiness. This in fact, had the treatife been compleat, might have been so explained as to have been no contradiction to his former decifion; for it by no means follows that what is in general preferable must absolutely and invariably be so in every cafe, and under all poffible circumstances [1]. M. Batteux tries to vindicate Aristotle on the supposition that he does not mean the best manner in general, but the best of these four modes; forgetting that he has faid there are no other modes except these four, and that he is pointing out the best way of conducting properly a tragic fable. Dacier takes up partly the same idea, that Aristotle is not speaking of fable in general, but only giving directions how to manage atrocious [Η] τι τῶν ἀνηκέςων. [1] See Mr. Twining's note 106, who defends Aristotle exactly on this principle, supposing him to say, When the circumstances of the traditional story from which the poet takes his < plot, are such as leave him only the alternative either of disgusting and shocking the spec- › tator, or of gratifying his wishes, the latter is clearly to be preferred, and the διπλῆ σύςασις › to which I affigned the second place, will in that particular case deserve the first. But is not this idea both of Mr. Twining and myself rather a justification of Ariftotle's supposed opinion in this place than a reconciliation of it with his former decifion, since he is certainly speaking of the general construction of tragic fable, and not of particular exceptions ? actions
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. actions properly, without changing the essential part of the fable. When, for instance, the murder of Clytemnestra by Orestes is fixed on for the subject of a tragedy, we should examine which arrangement would fuit it best. The first will not fuit it as being too atrocious and efssentially altering the story; the second, (which is the real fact by the way, and which the three (K) Greek tragic poets that remain to us have adopted) will be too horrible; the fourth would entirely destroy the received fable; therefore the third only remains. But would not the fable be equally destroyed by this; and is it not an essential part of the story that Orestes does not kill his mother by accident, but to revenge his father's death? It is true such an alteration is faid to be made in the tragedy of Eriphyle, but as we have no circumstantial account of that story, or do not know with what variation it may have been related, or have any remains of the tragedy, we can only say that it does not feem to fall exactly under the fame predicament with the story of Orestes and Clytemnestra, which is recorded by Homer (L) as well as the three principal ornaments of the Grecian tragic drama. It would however have been on this account a much better example for Dacier to have chosen. M. Lessing, immediately after the passage I have quoted from him, undertakes the defence of Aristotle on another ground. He argues that the affecting part of the tragedy arifing from peripetía and discovery are distinct things from the catastrophe, and that they often happen prior to it: as, for instance, in the fourth act of the Edipus: as alfo in the Iphigenia in Tauris of Euripides, and the very tragedy he is criticising, [K] In the Choephori of Æschylus, and the Electra of Euripides and Sophocles. [L] Homer does indeed mention Eriphyle, but in a very cursory manner. the
the Merope of Voltaire and Maffei. M. Lessing then adds, That it ' is easy to shew in the fubject of Merope itself, how perfectly it is ، poffible in the fame fable to combine the most tragical [M] peripetía with the most tragical pathos. We find indeed the last, but what * hinders us also from having the first? Suppose, for example, after having discovered her fon before the killed him, she had occafioned • afterwards either his death, or her own, by her zeal to protect him against Polyphontes. Why might not this piece terminate as well by • the death of the mother as of the tyrant? Why might not the poet * be permitted to carry our pity for a most affectionate mother to the < highest degree, and then make her perish through that very affection, or to cause the son to fall by the artifice of the tyrant after having escaped the vengeance of his mother? Would not fuch a Merope unite ⚫ in effect the two properties of the best form of tragedy which the • critics have found so contradictory? As to the former part of the question the answer is obvious. That the discovery of the son in Merope, and the brother in Iphigenia in Tauris comprehends peripetía as well as pathos there cannot be a doubt. And a poet may, if he pleases, introduce two or ten peripetías in the course of his drama, alternately counteracting the effect of each other. But that after giving a very strong and pathetic peripetía tending to happiness, the addition of a distressful catastrophe would unite two beauties supposed to be incompatible, is so far from the cafe that it must destroy the effect of both. It is indeed an arrange- [M] It is a bold step to render κράτισος, by most tragical. In the use of this word, as in many others, the figurative sense is more familiar than the direct one; most tragical is not fynonymous with beft fitted for tragedy. Were I to say the pathos of Merope is more according to the proper rule of tragedy than Edipus, but the catastrophe is not fo tragical, I think the diftinct meaning of each would be clearly understood, however improper it might be to oppose them to each other in the same sentence. ment
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. ment of fable that I believe no poet has ever yet attempted, and which I believe, if it were attempted, no audience would endure. As to the new catastrophe proposed for Merope, (which if Euripides had chofen it for his Cresphontes would have been directly in oppofition to the rule of Aristotle, as to deviating from received fables,) it is exactly that of Douglas, who absolutely perishes from his mother's too earnest anxiety for his preservation; but there is no previous happy peripetía. Lady Randolph's finding a son she imagined had perished when an infant by accident is nothing like the circumstance in Merope. As for the discovery and peripetía in [N] the Œdipus fo long before the cataftrophe, it has all the weight that an error in a great writer ought to have in justifying fucceeding poets for copying his blemishes, if they are not able to imitate his excellencies. It must be remembered [o] also that Ariftotle recommends that species of tragedy where the peripetía and discovery are united, and that he expressly says the discovery is a transition from ignorance to knowledge, producing either friendship or hatred, in the characters as they are designed for happiness or misery; that is, in other words, occafioning the catastrophe. In the Iphigenia in Tauris indeed, the difficulty and distress continue after the discovery as they do in the modern tragedies of Merope. Of the Helle we know nothing. But I cannot be perfuaded that the scene in Merope of Euripides, the effect of which is so highly spoken of, could be in any other place than the catastrophe. M. Lessing is very fevere on Voltaire for his misrepresentation of Aristotle in his epistle to Maffei, wherein he asserts that the philosopher [N] See Note 1. Chap. VII. [o] See Poetic, Chap. xx. • does
• does not fcruple to call the recognition of Merope and her fon the • most interesting moment of the Greek scene.' Here Voltaire has undoubtedly been guilty of a mistake, either wilfully or accidentally. Ariftotle says no such thing. But that it was highly interesting indeed, we have the authority of Plutarch, who must have been a better judge than any modern can poffibly be. Behold,' he says, ' Merope in the ، tragedy, lifting the axe over her fon as fuppofing him the murderer of • that fon, and saying, " This arm to thee a juster wound shall give." • What a confusion it occasions among the audience, who start up ⚫ through terror and anxiety, lest she should anticipate the arrival of the • old man and strike the youth [P].' Such was exactly what I felt the first time I saw the representation of King Lear, the alteration of which I had never previously read. Why Maffei and Voltaire, who were at liberty to have acted as they pleased in this respect, chose to infert this interesting scene in the middle of the piece rather than in the catastrophe, I cannot determine. It could not be from any difficulty in arranging the mode. It appears from Plutarch that Merope is going to destroy her fon with an axe, and with an axe of facrifice Voltaire makes the tyrant fall at the altar'; the two events therefore of the discovery of the young man and the death of Polyphontes, might have happened almost at the fame moment. Perhaps the choice of the plan they adopted was influenced by a defire of imitating the arrangement of Aristotle's other example, the Iphigenia in Tauris. But without applying to authority our own feelings will con- [P] Plutarch Περί Σαρκοφ. vince
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. vince us the effect of the two scenes must be very different in point of interest. We can never be affected in the same manner by a virgin priestess, who is in the habit of facrificing innocent strangers to Diana, and a mother frantic to revenge the death of a beloved fon on his supposed murderer. Perhaps we may impute this to another cause, the difficulty of keeping up through five acts, an interest in a situation so little affecting as the wish to kill a supposed criminal, neither connected by friendship or blood. But the poet might have supplied this, and made the agitation of the spectator compenfate for the deficiency of it in the character, by informing him of the real connection of Merope and the young man, which must obviously have been the case in the Greek tragedy mentioned by Plutarch. It is true when the discovery is made at the fame time to the spectator and the character, the impreffion on the feelings is greatly increased; but the effect of fuch a discovery is weakened after the first representation [Q]. ، The discovery of Ion in a tragedy of Euripides, imitated by Mr. Whitehead in his Creusa, seems to me in the original, the most perfectly affecting and surprising of any extant, either ancient or modern. To use the words of the Jesuit Poree, which I cite from Mr. Mason's Life of Whitehead, prefixed to the third volume of his works.. In spite of all the faults either real or apparent that may be found in this piece, nothing can be conceived more perfectly theatrical than the representation of a mother on the point of killing her unknown fon, ⚫ and at the fame time of dying unknown by his hands, when at the ، [Q] See Dramaturgie, Part. 1. p. and Note vI. Chap. xvI. and Note 11. Chap. x1. • fame
* same time this double project of parricide serves to restore the fon to * his mother and the mother to her fon.' Perfectly agreeing as I do with Mr. Mason in applauding the great skill of the English poet in the general improvement he has made of this tragedy in his Creusa, I must with him with he had not deviated so much from Euripides in the cataftrophe, to which I suppose he was induced by a defire to adhere to the precept of Aristotle laid down in the last chapter, and to render more tragical that poet whom he had declared the most tragical of the Greek dramatic writers. On examining this passage and the context with attention, we may poffibly find at last that every attempt to reconcile Aristotle with his own reasoning even here, is perfectly impossible, supposing him really to give the preference to the last arrangement. It will be in vain to excuse such a preference on any partial ground, such as that though it might not be the best general form, it may become so in certain instances, or in some particular parts of the drama. Since he declares it not to be so when compared with the other forms, on those very principles from which he decides on their merit; and that not in a different part of the work but in this identical place. The first form he totally rejects because disgustful from the atrocious design, and yet not productive of tragic effect as no one fuffers. Why he gives the preference over this to the next he does not mention, but the reason is clear, for though he cenfures it on account of the disgust arifing from the atrociousness of the design, it has yet the tragic effect he requires. The third species he tells us in express terms is free from the disgust occafioned by a wilful criminal intent, and besides this will have the interest arifing from an unexpected discovery, which is an advantage the other two do not possess. But besides this advantage over the other two it will poffefs the
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. the tragic effect of the second. The last mode will possess the radical advantage of avoiding the criminal intent, and the adventitious one of the unexpected discovery. But it will be deficient in the radical advantage of producing tragic effect from personal suffering, which he is here infifting on, and in which the third mode is not deficient; and therefore Ariftotle cannot give the preference to the fourth mode without forsaking the very ground on which he is absolutely then arguing. But let us go a little back. When Ariftotle first explains what he means by a skilful arrangement of the fable he names only two modes. The most obvious one, and what was generally practised by the older writers, was the simple perpetration of some great crime, not indeed through radical depravity but through paffion, knowing the situation of the persons who were the objects of it; like the Medea of Euripides. To this however has been discovered an improvement which will obviate any disgust arifing from the intentional crime, by making the character ignorant of the connexion of the person who is the object of his vengeance with himself. He now recollects a third mode besides, but which seems to be only suggested by his mention of the other two, as that which he absolutely condemns appears to be brought to his mind by the enumeration of the four only possible forms which arifes from the cafual recollection of this. If these obfervations are right how shall we justify the approbation that Ariftotle gives to the last mode? But has he given fuch approbation? It will be a little fingular if after the censure M. Lessing has bestowed on Voltaire with no niggardly hand, for the hyperbolical eulogium he bestows on this scene in Merope, that the pen of the French poet,
poet [R], like the random pencil of Apelles, should have at once done what so much skill and pains had been in vain employed to do, and that he should have given, though with fome exaggeration indeed, the true meaning of Aristotle, which at once folves every difficulty, and restores the confiftency of his theatrical doctrine. Let us confider the force of the word κράτιςος, and its fituation here. The primary sense of this word, as given by all the lexicographers, as confirmed by a thousand passages from ancient writers, and in conformity to its derivation, is [s] MOST POWERFUL. Why the commentators and translators have universally chosen to give it here the general sense of BEST I can fee no cause but from its immediately following Βέλτιον, the very reason as I should conceive that would have made against that sense of the word. For I believe it is very unusual in comparison of adjectives to mention one word in the positive, another in the comparative, and another in the superlative degree, yet all in the same sense. Stephens in his Lexicon, on the word κράτιςος, after giving many instances of its fignifying MOST STRONG and MOST POWERFUL, adds, 'that it is • sometimes more conveniently rendered by BEST, even in some of the places that he has cited.' The same thing may certainly be said of MOST STRONG or MOST POWERFUL, in our own language, or of FOR- TISSIMUS or VALIDISSIMUS, or VIRIBUS PRÆSTANS, in Latin; but I do not think they could well be confidered as the proper superlative of BETTER or MELIOR. Were I to say such a thing is better than another, but a third has the strongest effect, the superlative strongest (R) I imagine Voltaire was no Greek scholar.. S [s] I have in this edition of my translation ventured to tranflate it, having the most • powerful effect. must
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. must be taken generally as far as that particular quality goes, and not as the superlative of better; though if strength of effect were the quality on which the merit of the subject depended, it would certainly imply it. The fame will hold in Latin. • Melius eft ignarum feciffe, factumque agnoviffe, fortiffimum vero, poftremum.' Could there be in this case any reason for supposing FORTISSIMUM could poffibly be confidered as the superlative of MELIUS? It seems very natural for Aristotle, after having mentioned the two modes he most approved as having the proper pathos in the catastrophe, and given the preference to the latter as avoiding a fault incident to the former, the wilful perfeverance in an atrocious crime, knowing it to be so, and possessing besides a striking discovery, to reflect on the instant that one of the forms he had been condemning possessed this last in a more extraordinary manner, as being capable of producing the strongest dramatic effect poffible, which is by no means an hyperbolical tranflation of κράτιςος, supposing it to be applied in this manner. Surely then there is no inconfistency in relating a fact, however it may make against his own hypothesis, and that it must have been a fact is obvious. Ariftotle in the last chapter shews the great predilection of an Athenian audience for the happy catastrophe: and Plutarch bears a strong teftimony to the effect of the scene between Merope and her fon; and our own feelings will justify this. There is also another reason befides the gratification of our feelings why the happy discovery and peripetía must be more striking than the unhappy one. The reverfe of fortune must be foreseen, or at least suspected in the tragedy ending in distress, or the body of the drama must be deficient both in incident and interest: but the more the tragedy of the other form is filled with distress, the more imminent and inevitable
inevitable the fatal conclufion appears; the stronger will the tragic effect be throughout the course of the drama, and the force of the peripetía and discovery more violent in proportion as they are unexpected and fudden; and they cannot be too much so if they do not exceed the bounds of probability. I do not recollect any tragedy ending unhappily in which the peripetía is not either misery added to former fuffering, or the accomplishment of the expectation of it; as in the Edipus, the Fatal Marriage, and Douglas. I have already mentioned the effect of the scene. in Tate's King Lear. Shakespear tried to create a peripetía of an oppofite kind, by raising our expectation of both Cordelia and Lear's safety through. the interference of the dying Edmund. Perhaps this example may give a full explanation of Ariftotle's use of κράτιςος. We will suppose him reasoning on the alteration of Shakespear's Lear with all his prejudice in favour of the unhappy catastrophe. • I will allow,' he might say,' that Tate, though an inferior poet, has by a small and probable change • introduced a most striking and affecting situation; we are at once • anxious for the event, and delighted with its accomplishment; it is • the strongest, the most violent stroke of theatrical effect I know; I ⚫ do not hesitate to say it is the most interesting moment of the English ، ، ، stage; but it is not tragic; it does not possess that pathos, those means of exciting pity and terror, which are the proper objects of the tragic drama.. We do not expect from tragedy the pleasure arifing from • furprize, and affecting situation, which are momentary, but to have our paffions excited, and at the fame time softened by continual and lasting impreffions of terror and distress; and every fort of pleasure is not to • be expected from tragedy, but only that which is proper and peculiar • to itself.' Perhaps
POETIC OF ARISTOTLE. Perhaps the reader, who recollects what I have faid on this subject in [T] another place, may think I am defending Aristotle's consistency at the expence of my own. But he will observe I am delivering what I think would be his opinion, and not mine. I must acknowledge that I owe the first hint of this solution to the [u] Cambridge edition of the Poetic, Mr. Cooke having rendered Κράτισον, • Quod maximè valet.' And he has the following note on the passage. What, is that the best form of action which he mentions ، • last, and is the structure of the fable in Cresphontes to be preferred to Edipus? Can Aristotle dissent so much from himself? Or rather do ⚫ the interpreters of Aristotle dissent so much both from him and from ' truth? Let them recollect that third form, which he connects with • the preceding ones by these words ἔτι δὲ, as if doubting whether he • should mention them at all, as unfit for tragedy though adapted to the popular tafte. For such is the force of this word Κράτιςον. ὁ κράτει ὁ νικᾶ, For the vulgar indeed applaud that structure of HAS THE VOGUE. • fable for the causes already given. The action of Cresphontes, con- [T] See Note VII. Chap. XIII. [U] In the same volume Mr. Cooke has given a very elegant and classical Greek version of Gray's Elegy. I will however take the liberty of pointing out one fault. The first line, is rendered The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,' Νυξ πέλει, ἐδ᾽ ἀν᾿ ἀγρὼς πυρὰ καίεζαι ἐδ᾽ ἀνὰ κώμας. Now though this extinction of fire is faid to have been the etymology of Curfew, it is by no means the consequence of it now, or is the idea at all intended to be conveyed either by Gray, or by Milton in the Il Penseroso, but merely the found of the evening bell. See Chap. xx. Rr cerning
cerning which Plutarch has handed down a pleasant fable, is deftitute * of all tragic force because it wants pathos.' I have ventured to give Κράτιςον a much stronger meaning. Indeed I do not recollect such a use of the word as Mr. Cooke suggests; but if I did I should prefer the other, as I think Aristotle must have allowed the discovery in Cresphontes to be forcible, as well as fashionable; neither would he, nor does he, treat the opinion of an Athenian audience as the sentiments of the vulgar. Nor can I fee why an illustration of a moral effect, in a grave treatise by Plutarch, drawn most probably from a very familiar, and certainly a very natural example, should be confidered as a pleasant fable only. CHAP.
7.
mvp-aristotle-comment-98
Ritter, cap. 14 § 7
καὶ παρὰ ταῦτα οὐκ ἔστιν ἄλλως:
αρ praeter haec non licet aliter facere illum quem poeta in scenam tragicam produxit. statim quidem quattuor agendi modos enumerat, non tres, sed ex his quartum continuo ex tragoedia prorsus relegavit.
διόπερ οὐδεὶς - ὁ Αἵμων: haec ab interpolatorė quodam inserta esse recte pronuntiavit Gruppius ¹) in Ariadna 1) Gruppius etiam voces
ἀπαθὲς γάρ pro suppositiciis habet, sedp. 556., nisi quod vera argumenta falsis commiscuit. vere ille monuit hanc sententiam moleste inferri, neque esse quo commendetur, immo Sophoclem sine iusta causa vituperari; idemque recte observavit inepte dici
οὐδεὶς ποιεῖ,
εἰ μὴ ὀλιγάκις, articulumque ante
Αντιγόνη omitti praeter consuetudinem Aristoteliam. fallitur cum in vitiosae dictionis indiciis numerat
οἷος pro
οἷον :
οἷος enim nihil est nisi vitium editionis Bekkerianae maioris ab ipso editore in minore correctum; falsum est quod affirmavit,
οὐδεὶς ποιεῖ de poeta dici et mire ad Haemonem continuo referri: immo
ποιεῖ dictum est de persona a tragico poeta inducta, apteque statim de Haemone facinus in patrem commissuro dici potest. equidem addendum puto hoc, non modo Sophoclis Antigonam exstitisse, sed etiam Euripideam. verus igitur Aristoteles Sophoclis nomen non omisisset, si ipse, illum Antigonae locum ab interpolatore significatum (v. 1216-1219 ed. Herm.) pro exemplo attulisset, ut non omisit in Rhetoricis I, 13 init.. I, 15 init. III, 16. p. 1417 a 28 et b 19. III, 17. p. 1418 b 31. porro Aristoteles de eiusmodi facinoribus loquitur, unde totius tragoediae habitus et forma pendet: tale autem non est Haemonis. dignus esset Sophocles hac vituperatione, si Creon post multas minas nulla poena Antigonam affecisset. quae ad Sophoclem aut defendendum ab hac reprehensione aut incusandum a viris doctis in utramque partem disputata sunt, ea hoc quidem loco commemorare iam nihil attinet.