215.
mvp-aristotle-comment-215
NOTE 215
24.5
P. 117. IF THE EPIC POEM WERE REDUCED FROM ITS ANTIENT LENGTH, SO AS NOT TO EXCEED THAT OF SUCH A NUMBER OF TRAGEDIES AS ARE PERFORMED SUCCESSIVELY AT ONE HEARING.
If we knew certainly, how many Tragedies were performed at one hearing, (
ἐις μίαν ἀκρόασιν
,) we should know, with equal certainty, to what length Aristotle thought the Epic Poem ought to be reduced, in order to be perfectly, or sufficiently,
ευσύνοπτον
. But, unfortunately, the premises here are not less obscure than the conclusion; the information to be picked up in antient authors, relative to the Tragic contests and the Tetralogia, being extremely imperfect and unsatisfactory. Let us however try, what little glimmering of light may be thrown upon this subject, from those authors, or from the nature of the thing itself.
The general principle, upon which Aristotle here fixes the length of an Epic Poem, is the same with that, upon which he
fixes the length of a Tragedy: viz.
"that it should be such as to admit of our comprehending, at one view, the beginning and the end. And this,"
he goes on,
"would be the case, were it reduced from its antient length, so as not to exceed that of such a number of Tragedies, as are performed successively at one hearing."
Here then is a rule, which, at the time he wrote it, was as clear and determinate, as if he had expressly said, that an Epic Poem ought not to exceed a certain number of verses. But, as an ingenious friend has suggested to me,
"he probably chose to put his rule in the way he has put it, rather than in this latter way, as wishing to convey an intimation, that the length of an Epic Poem should be such, as would admit of its being fairly recited, or read, in a single day."
It seems to have been a commonly received opinion, that the four dramas of each Poet, which composed the Tetralogia, were always performed at one hearing—in one day
1
. In this case, if one Poet only produced his Tetralogia, there could be but four Tragedies; if two, there must be eight; if three, twelve, and so on: there could be no intermediate numbers. In so obscure a subject, I certainly shall not take upon me to decide. The passage, however, commonly adduced, I believe, as the principal authority in this matter, from Diogenes Laertius, appears to me to be against this supposition. The words are these:
Ἐκείνοι [sc. Tragici] τέτρασι δράμασιν ἠγωνίζοντο, Διονυσίοις, Ληναίοις, Παναθηναίοις, Χύτροις, ὧν τὸ τέταρτον ἦν σατυρικόν· τὰ δὲ τέτταρα δράματα ἐκαλεῖτο Τετραλογία.
2
— Here are four festivals, and four dramas; and the most obvious meaning of the passage, surely, is, that each contending Poet produced, not his entire Tetralogia at the same festival, but one Tragedy only at each different festival. And so If. Casaubon appears to have understood it.
"Quot Athenis Liberalia agitabantur, tot fabulas di- versas a Tragicis Poetis doceri solitas legimus."
3
But it seems difficult to reconcile this account with what is generally, I think, said, and what Casaubon himself has elsewhere said, of the satyric piece;
4
viz. that it was played between, or after, the serious Tragedies, on each festival, by way of relaxation and relief. For, to say, that of the four dramas exhibited by each Poet on the four different festivals, the fourth was a satyric drama, (
ὧν τὸ ΤΕΤΑΡΤΟΝ ἦν σατυρικόν
), is to say, pretty plainly, that all the satyric pieces were performed together at the fourth and last festival, the
Χύτροι
. And so indeed some commentators seem to have understood it
5
. Perhaps the matter might, not unreasonably, be compromised, by supposing the rule, in fact, to have been, that, of the different Poets contending on each day, one should always produce the satyric drama of his Tetralogia, and that drama always close the exhibition of the day. But I forbear to indulge conjecture farther upon this dark subject. Let us return to Aristotle and his rule.
Dacier tells us, very gravely, that twelve, and sometimes sixteen, Tragedies were performed in one day:
6
an account, which, upon the very face of it, exceeds all bounds of probability. It is rather difficult to conceive, that the representation of a single Tragedy could take up less time than three hours. If however we suppose it to have taken up only two, and also, what could hardly be the case, that Tragedy succeeded Tragedy without any intermission, just
as scene succeeded scene in the same piece, the whole exhibition of the day, according to Dacier's lowest statement, would have taken up 24, and according to his highest, 32 hours. But is it conceivable, that any audience, however intemperate their fondness for this amusement, could sit so many hours together to hear Tragedies, and to hear them attentively, so as to judge of, and decide upon, their comparative merits? — This account, therefore, of Dacier, that the number of Tragedies performed
"at one hearing,"
and to the same audience, (for that is implied,) amounted to twelve, we may venture at once to reject as the most palpable impossibility. Shall we then suppose eight, the next lowest number possible, on the supposition, that the four dramas of the Tetralogia were exhibited in one day? The representation of eight Tragedies, we may venture to say, could not possibly take up less time than sixteen hours. Let any man conceive himself sitting in a Theatre, and hearing Tragedy after Tragedy, from six o'clock in the morning till ten at night, and then pronounce as to the probability of even this supposition. If we reject this number, and still adhere to the common notion of these exhibitions, we shall be reduced to a single Tetralogia; in which case there can have been no rival exhibition on the same day. It seems therefore impossible to adjust this matter in any reasonable way, without supposing, that the four dramas of the Tetralogia were exhibited on different festivals: a supposition, I think, fairly deducible from the passage of Diog. Laertius above quoted. A supposition too, which seems to be rendered more probable from the very nature of rival exhibitions; as each contending Poet would then produce his drama at the same hearing, each hearing would be a distinct day of contest, and there would be, at each contest, a sufficient ground of judgment upon the comparative merits of each performance. This idea will allow us to assign about twelve hours, as the utmost time taken up by the whole exhibition of the day; and the great difference of length, which we observe in the Greek Tra-
gedies that are extant, will also allow us to conclude, that, occasionally, five, or possibly even six Tragedies, might be brought within that compass, or nearly so
7
. On this ground, then, it will appear, I believe, that the extent, to which Aristotle proposed to limit the Epic Poem, could hardly exceed that of about 7000 lines.
But, if we admit this, we must of course admit, that he meant to include the Poems of Homer in the number of those which he regarded as too long. And that he did so mean, however unwilling Dacier and other commentators are to allow it,
8
I have no doubt. For, 1. The actual length of those Poems seems sufficiently to prove this. The number of lines in the Iliad is nearly 15,000; in the Odyssey, nearly 12,000. Now whoever can believe it possible, that an audience could sit, and make a common practice of sitting, 22, or even 18 hours together, to hear Tragedies, (which, at the lowest allowance, of two hours only for the performance of each piece, must have been the case, if Homer's Poems fell within Aristotle's rule,) may believe, that he thought those Poems of a proper length. Dacier, indeed, tells us, that even the Iliad may be read through in a single day
9
. For a wager, indeed, I will not say what might be done, if we had reading races
at Newmarket. But, 2. Had Aristotle meant to except Homer, why not expressly except 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 Odyssey? All this seems to leave no doubt, that he thought those Poems drawn out to too great a length. And this is also conformable to what he afterwards says, of the advantage which the Tragic has above the Epic Poem in this circumstance, that it effects its purpose
"in a shorter compass"
—
ἐν ἐλάττονι μήκει
.
10
I do not forget what he had said in the preceding chapter—that if Homer had taken the whole war for his subject, his Poem would not have been
ευσύνοπτον
: which, it may be urged, implies, that he thought it
πως ευσύνοπτον
as Homer had managed it, and therefore not too long. But the contradiction here is merely apparent. The
ευσύνοπτον
admits of degrees; and all that Aristotle appears to mean, in the passage before us, is, that the Poems of Homer would have been more
ευσύνοπτα
, and, in that respect, more perfect, had they been shorter.
But, to return once more to the dramatic exhibitions—the time of twelve hours seems to be the very utmost that can reasonably be allowed, and is more, I believe, than will readily be allowed, without considering the particular character of the Athenians, and the circumstances attending these theatrical exhibitions. The intemperate fondness of that people for these amusements is well known; and Aristotle himself gives us a pretty strong picture of it, when he says, though only in the way of hyperbolical supposition,
"if A HUNDRED Tragedies were to be exhibited in concurrence*."
11
We must, also, consider the variety of subjects in the
different Tragedies performed, and, indeed, the variety resulting from the very nature of the Greek drama, with its choral troop, its odes, its accompaniments of music and dance: the relief, also, of the satyric drama, which closed the performance by way of Farce; the pleasure of comparing the rival Poets and actors, the zeal of party in favour of this, or that, particular Poet or performer, &c.—And we may add to all this a curious circumstance in the dramatic history of the Greeks; that the people never sate
ἄσιτοι θεωροῦντες
, but eat, and drank, and regaled themselves with cakes, and nuts, and wine, during the performance, like an English audience at Sadler's Wells, or Bartholomew Fair.
12
In the whole theatrical system of the antients, and every thing relating to it, all seems to have been proportionably vast, extravagant, and gigantic. Their immense theatres, their colossal dresses, the stilts, buskins, or heroic pattens, on which the actor was mounted,
13
their masks that covered the whole head, their loud, chanting, and speaking-trumpet declamation
14
—all this is upon the same scale with the intemperate eagerness of the people for these amusements, the number of Tragedies exhibited in one day, and, we may add, the almost incredible number said to have been written even by their best Poets. Would not this last circumstance alone, supposing not a single drama to have been preserved, have furnished a reasonable proof,
à priori
, or, at least, a strong presumption, that the Greek Tragedy must have been, in many respects, a simple, unequal, imperfect thing, just such as, in fact, and prejudice apart, we
find it to be? SOPHOCLES, confessedly the most correct and polished of the three great Tragic Poets, is said to have written above an hundred Tragedies.
15
216.
mvp-aristotle-comment-216
NOTE 216
24.9
P. 117. FOR, IN THIS RESPECT ALSO, THE NARRATIVE IMITATION IS ABUNDANT, AND VARIOUS, BEYOND THE REST.
Περιττὴ γὰρ καὶ ἡ διηγηματικὴ μίμησις τῶν ἄλλων.
—
περιττὴ
is rendered, by almost all the commentators,
eximia, præstantior
,
more excellent, than the other imitations; which makes Aristotle directly contradict himself. And this Victorius allows, at the same time that he adheres to that sense:—
"præstantiorem esse [hanc poesin] inter cæteras, et altiorem locum tenere."
How this can be reconciled with the critic's decided preference of Tragedy in the last chapter, I do not see. I believe Dacier is right, in giving to
περιττὴ
, in this passage, the sense of,
more abundant—
la plus excessive de toutes.
16
The text, however, appears to me to be defective: for what becomes of the
καὶ
, which Dacier, and other translators, have been forced to neglect? The only fair version of the passage, as we now read it, is this:—
"for the narrative imitation ALSO, is more abundant, &c. ΚΑΙ ἡ διηγ. μιμ. "
— of which I can make no reasonable sense. Farther, some word seems wanting, to express in what the Epic is
περιττὴ
; and this Dacier found himself obliged to supply in his translation and note:
en cela la plus excessive—.
I cannot, therefore, help suspecting, that
τούτοις [sc. ξενικοῖς ὀνόμασι]
, or rather
ταύτῃ
, has been omitted; and that we should read thus—
περιττὴ γὰρ, καὶ ΤΑΥΤΗι, ἡ διηγηματικὴ μίμησις τῶν ἄλλων
"In this respect too"
—alluding to the several other respects mentioned in this chapter, in which the Epic imitation was
περιττὴ τῶν ἄλλων
: as, in the time of its action, and the length of the Poem itself; in its Episodes, and the variety and
μεγαλοπρέπεια
arising from them, and from the admission of contemporary events; in the degree, also, to which it admits of the wonderful, and even the incredible. This, also, agrees perfectly with what he had said,
cap. xxii.
καὶ ἐν μὲν τοῖς ἡρωικοῖς ΑΠΑΝΤΑ χρήσιμα τὰ εἰρημένα.
17
217.
mvp-aristotle-comment-217
NOTE 217
24.11
P. 117. HAVE MORE MOTION.
Κινητικά.
The scruple of Victorius, who proposed to read
κινητά
, from a doubt, whether
κινητικὰ
would admit of a passive sense, seems to have been ill-founded. The passage in
Plutarch, De primo frigido
, referred to by Goulston in his note, is this:
ὡς βραδεῖα καὶ ΣΤΑΣΙΜΟΣ [ἀντίκειται] πρὸς ὀξυρροπὸν καὶ ΚΙΝΗΤΙΚΟΝ.
P. 1755, ed. H. S.
But the word is used in the same sense by Aristotle himself, in the 50th of the
Harmonic Problems, p. 770,
where
κινητικὰ
is applied to the acuter sound of a concord, on account of the velocity of its vibrations, and opposed to
ἠρεμαῖον
, by which he characterizes the graver sound.
218.
mvp-aristotle-comment-218
NOTE 218
24.11
P. 117. THE OTHER, ADAPTED TO ACTION AND BUSINESS.
Πρακτικόν.
— See
NOTE 45, P. 234.
219.
mvp-aristotle-comment-219
NOTE 219
24.14
P. 118. THE POET, IN HIS OWN PERSON, &C.
The reader may compare
Plato's account of Homer, De Rep. lib. iii. p. 393, ed. Serr. p. 178, ed. Massey.
220.
mvp-aristotle-comment-220
NOTE 220
24.15
P. 118. BUT EPIC POETRY----ADMITS EVEN THE IMPROBABLE AND INCREDIBLE, FROM WHICH THE HIGHEST DEGREE OF THE SURPRISING RESULTS, BECAUSE, THERE, THE ACTION IS NOT SEEN.
Δεῖ μὲν οὖν ἐν ταῖς Τραγῳδίαις ποιεῖν τὸ θαυμαστὸν· μᾶλλον δ’ ἐνδέχεται ἐν τῇ ἐποποιΐᾳ τὸ ἄλογον, δι’ ὃ συμβαίνει μάλιστα τὸ θαυμαζον, διὰ τὸ μὴ ὁρᾶν ἐις τὸν πράττοντα.
Such is the reading which I have followed. The sense, which I have given it, accords very nearly, if not exactly, with that given by Victorius and Goulston, and adopted by Dacier and M. Batteux
18
. Victorius supports his emendation—
ΑΛΟΓΟΝ
, instead of
ἀνάλογον
—by reasons of considerable cogency: viz. the difficulty, or, rather, the impossibility, of making any satisfactory sense of
τὸ ἀνάλογον
, as the rest of the passage stands;
19
the explanatory instance itself, which immediately follows, and is, plainly, an instance of the
ἄλογον
, and even expressly called
γελοῖον
,
ridiculously improbable; and the similar instance, presently after given, of the landing of Ulysses in the Odyssey, which he expressly calls,
τὰ ἐν Ὀδυσσειᾳ ΑΛΟΓΑ
, &c.
But, though I think the sense of the passage, thus read, and thus explained, is, in itself, unexceptionable, yet I can by no means rely with perfect confidence upon the reading from which it is obtained. All the manuscripts, it seems, give, with one consent,
ΑΝΑΛΟΓΟΝ
. This circumstance, in a passage not free, in other respects, from suspicion, should be sufficient to prevent our admitting the emendation of Victorius, however probable, without some reserve—
"expectandi codices."
I should perhaps, therefore, have done better, had I omitted the doubtful part of the passage—the words,
τὸ ἀνάλογον, δι’ ὃ μάλιστα συμβαίνει τὸ θαυμαστόν
: for the omission will leave a clear and complete sense; and, moreover, a sense, in which the only meaning that can well be given to the words omitted, seems, in fact, to be implied.
Δεῖ μὲν οὖν ἐν ταῖς τραγῳδίαις ποιεῖν τὸ θαυμαστόν· μᾶλλον δ’ ἐνδέχεται ἐν τῇ ἐποποιΐᾳ, — διὰ τὸ μὴ ὁρᾶν ἐις τὸν πράττοντα.
"The surprising is necessary in Tragedy: but the Epic Poem admits of it to a greater degree, because, there, the action is not seen."
221.
mvp-aristotle-comment-221
NOTE 221.
24.16
P. 119. ACHILLES MAKING SIGNS, &C.
The passage is this:
Λαοῖσιν δ’ ἀνένευε καρήατι δῖος Ἀχιλλεὺς, Οὐδ’ ἔα ἵεμεναι ἐπὶ Ἕκτορι πικρὰ βέλεμνα, Μή τις κῦδος ἄροιτο βαλὼν, ὁ δὲ δεύτερος ἔλθοι.
Il. 22. 205.
222.
mvp-aristotle-comment-222
NOTE 222.
24.18
P. 119. IT CONSISTS IN A SORT OF SOPHISM, &c.
In the words,
δεὶ δὲ τὸν αὐτὸν προσθεῖναι
, inclusively, the text seems evidently mangled beyond all hope of conjectural restoration. This
ulcus insanabile
I presume not to touch, either as commentator, or as translator. I can make nothing consistent of it myself: I have seen nothing consistent made of it by others.
The words,
τοῦτο δὲ ἐστι ψεῦδος
, are ambiguous. Victorius doubts, whether they mean,
"this posterior fact is false,"
(the
τοδὶ γίνεται
,) or,
"this conclusion is false"
—namely,
εἰ τὸ ὕστερον ἐστι, καὶ τὸ πρότερον εἶναι.
What follows, had it been tolerably clear, would, probably, have fixed the sense of
ψεῦδος
. As this is not the case, I have given it that sense which appears to me most obvious; and I think I am warranted by the very same expression used in the same sense, in the
Rhetoric, II. 23, p. 579, A
, where,
ἔστι δὲ τοῦτο ψεῦδος
, clearly means,
this is a false conclusion.
But the most important question is, in what manner Aristotle meant to apply this logical paralogism to Homer's management of fiction. None of the commentators, whom I have seen, appear to me to have given any satisfactory explanation.
The paralogism
παρ’ ἑπόμενον
,
à consequenti
, here alluded to, the reader will find clearly explained in several parts of the philosopher's other works.
20
It consists in taking a proposition as convertible, that is not so. Because rain wets the ground, we conclude, when we see the ground wet, that it must have rained. Because every man in a fever is hot, we conclude, that a person who is hot must be in a fever:
ἀνάγκη ΚΑΙ τὸν θερμὸν πυρέττειν.
These are some of Aristotle's own explanatory instances. Now, he tells us here, that Homer's art of lying—
ψευδῆ λέγειν ὡς δεῖ
—consists in imposing his marvellous fictions upon the reader's imagination by a sort of poetic sophism, similar to this logical sophism. And this is all he says. He has left us to make out the similitude as well as we can. No writer, I believe, ever paid more frequent compliments of this kind to the sagacity of his readers.
Dacier, with other commentators, seems to understand nothing more, than that artful intermixture of historical, or acknowledged, truth, which, by throwing the mind, as it were, into a posture of belief and conviction, has its effect even upon what we know to be feigned, and makes the false pass glibly with the true. But I cannot think, that this comes up to Aristotle's meaning, nor that his observation, here, amounts only to that of
Strabo
:—
ἐκ μηδενὸς ἀληθὲς ἀνάπτειν καινὴν τερατολογίαν, οὐχ Ὁμηρικόν, κ. τ. λ.
21
For no one has attempted to shew, and I believe no one can shew, how that, which Aristotle says of the particular paralogism denominated
παρ’ ἑπόμενον
, is applicable to the intermixture—the mere juxtaposition, of fact and fiction.
The similitude of the logical and poetic sophism appears to me to be this. It is not merely, that, where there is a mixture of history
and fiction, the truth makes the fiction pass; but the comparison, I think, relates to the connection between the fictions of the Poet, considered as cause and effect, as antecedent and consequent. The Poet invents certain extraordinary characters, incidents, and situations. When the actions, and the language, of those characters, and, in general, the consequences of those events, or situations, as drawn out into detail by the Poet, are such as we know, or think, to be true—that is to say, poetically true, or natural; such, as we are satisfied must necessarily, or would probably, follow, if such characters and situations actually existed; this probability, nature, or truth, of representation, imposes on us, sufficiently for the purposes of Poetry. It induces us to believe, with hypothetic and voluntary faith, the existence of those false events, and imaginary personages, those
ἀδύνατα, ἄλογα, ψευδῆ
—those marvellous and incredible fictions, which, otherwise managed, we should have rejected: that is, their improbability, or impossibility, would have so forced themselves upon our notice, as to destroy, or disturb, even the slight and willing illusion of the moment.
Whenever, says the philosopher, supposing such a thing to be, it would certainly be followed by such effects; if we see those effects, we are disposed to infer the existence of that cause. And thus, in Poetry, and all fiction, this is the logic of that temporary imposition on which depends our pleasure. The reader of a play, or a novel, does not, indeed, syllogize, and say to himself
"Such beings as are here supposed, had they existed, must have acted and spoken exactly in this manner; therefore, I believe they have existed:"
—but he feels the truth of the premises, and he consents to feel the truth of the conclusion; he does not revolt from the imagination of such beings. Every thing follows so naturally, and, even, as it seems, so necessarily, that the probability and truth of nature, in the consequences, steals, in a manner, from our view, even the impossibility of the cause, and flings an air of truth over the whole. With respect to fact, indeed, all is equally
ψεῦδος
; for if the causes exist not, neither can the effects. But the consequent lies are so told, as to impose on us, for the moment, the belief of the antecedent, or fundamental fiction.
22
For instances of this art, no reader can be at a loss. He will find them, not only in almost all the
"speciosa miracula"
of Homer, but even in the wilder and more absurd miracles of Ariosto; whose poem is, indeed, a striking example of the most improbable, and, in themselves, revolting lies,
23
to which, however, every poetical reader willingly throws open his imagination; principally, I believe, from the easy charm of his language and versification, and the remarkable distinctness of his painting; but, partly too, from the truth and nature which he has contrived to fling into the detail of his description. But were I to choose, from the productions of poetic genius at large, an example, which would, singly, illustrate this passage of Aristotle, more than any other that I recollect, it should be the
Caliban of Shakspeare.
I shall only add, without troubling the reader with any comment of mine, one passage of the
Rhetoric
, which may serve, both to illustrate the paralogism itself, here alluded to, and to confirm the application which I have given it. In that passage, Aristotle applies the paralogism
παρ’ ἑπόμενον
, to the effect of oratorical elocution, in producing persuasion and conviction in the hearers.
Πιθανοῖ δὲ τὸ πρᾶγμα, καὶ ἡ οἰκεία λέξις· ΠΑΡΑΛΟΓΙΖΕΤΑΙ γὰρ ἡ ψυχὴ, ὡς ἀληθῶς λεγόντων, ὅτι, ἐπὶ τοῖς τοιούτοις, οὕτως ἔχουσιν· ὥστε οἴονται, εἰ καὶ μὴ οὕτως ἔχει, ὡς ὁ λέγων, τὰ πράγματα, οὕτως ἔχειν.
24
"What the Orator says, is, likewise, rendered probable and credible by a suitable diction and elocution. For we are cheated into the persuasion, that the orator speaks truly, merely because we know that men, so circumstanced as he assumes to be, are actually affected in that manner: so that we take it for granted, that things are really as the speaker represents them to be, when, in fact, they are not so."
The art here pointed out by Aristotle, as eminent in Homer's poetry, evidently extends to fiction in general; but, by
ψεῦδη
, I understand him to allude, chiefly, to fictions of the extraordinary, marvellous, and improbable kind—such as require the utmost art and management of the Poet to make them pass. The connection of the whole passage, if I am not mistaken, shews this to be the author's meaning; the application of
ψεῦδη
being fixed, both by the terms
θαυμαστὸν
, and
ἄλογον
, in what precedes, and by the
ἀδύνατα καὶ εἰκότα
which follow, and which I take to be, or, at least, to include, those very
ψευδῆ λεγόμενα ὡς δεῖ
, of which he had, immediately before, been speaking.
223.
mvp-aristotle-comment-223
NOTE 223.
24.21
P. 120. IF, HOWEVER, ANY THING OF THIS KIND, &C.
I much doubt of the integrity of the text. The sense I have given seems to be the only one, which the passage, as it now stands, will reasonably bear. Dacier, after Victorius, understands—
"if the admission of one improbable circumstance be the means of giving more probability to the rest."
I do not well comprehend this: I am sure it is not what Aristotle has said. His words are,
ἂν δὲ θῇ, καὶ φαίνηται εὐλογώτερον
i. e.
"if he has introduced such a circumstance, or incident, and it (not the rest, the whole) has some appearance of probability,"
&c.
I suppose Aristotle meant to say, that, though improbabilities are certainly faults, and ought to be carefully avoided in the first choice and structure of a fable, yet, they might be so well managed by a Poet of genius, (especially in the Epic, which is here the subject,) as to appear rather probable—
εὐλογώτερον
; to pass with some shew of probability; and, in this case, should be admitted, or tolerated, even though pushed to the
ἄτοπον
, or absurd. This sense accords perfectly with what immediately follows, which is precisely an instance of such management; of absurdity, or, at least, improbability, (
τὰ ἐν Ὀδυσσειᾳ ἄλογα
) veiled by the charms of poetry, and finding almost as ready an admission into the imagination of the reader, under the passport of the beauties by which it is accompanied, as if it were, in itself, ever so consonant to nature and experience.
With respect to the words
ἐνδέχεσθαι καὶ ἄτοπον
—it seems necessary to adopt one or the other of the two manuscript readings
ἐκδέχεσθαι
, or
ἀποδέχεσθαι
. The former of these verbs
Mr. Winstanley
takes in the sense of
ἀπείργειν, κωλύειν
, upon the authority of
Suidas
. But in the very passage adduced by that lexicographer, the immediate sense of
ἐκδέχεσθαι
is,
to receive.
Γέρρα τε παρατεταγμένα ἦν, ἐις τὸ ΕΚΔΕΧΕΣΘΑΙ τὰ τῶν βαρβάρων τοξεύματα.
i. e.
to receive them;
and by receiving them to keep them off from their bodies. Arcere, here, is only what we may call the consequential meaning of the word. I do not see, that it may not, in this place, very well bear the sense of receiving, admitting, or, rather, tolerating: but of this I would not be understood to speak positively. This seems, at least, to be the sense, which the purport of the passage requires; and it refers, I think, not to the Poet himself, as some understand it, but to the audience, or the reader. When Aristotle has just said,
ἂν δὲ θῇ
i. e.
"but if he has introduced, or admitted it,"
how can he be understood to add,
"he should admit it?"
Farther, the word
ἀνεκτά
, (
tolerabilia
), which, in the instance immediately subjoined, clearly relates to the hearer, or reader, seems sufficiently to
fix the same reference of the correspondent word,
ἐκδέχεσθαι
, or
ἀποδέχεσθαι
, here.
Mr. Harris, in his Philol. Inquiries, p. 220
, though he has not quoted, or translated, this particular passage, appears, pretty clearly, to allude to it, and to have understood the verb as here explained. He says, speaking of improbabilities in the drama—
"'Tis true, indeed, did such plays exist,"
[
ἂν δὲ θῇ
]
"and were their other dramatic requisites good, these improbabilities might be endured, and the plays be still admired."
The version of
Piccolomini
agrees with mine:—
"Ma se, ponendovisi poi qualche cosa, che in sè habbia del non ragionevole, si adornerà, & si tratterà, in maniera, ch'ella apparir possa ragionevole, potrà, in tal caso, trovarvi luogo."
p. 392.
224.
mvp-aristotle-comment-224
NOTE 224.
24.22
P. 121. THE ABSURDITY IS CONCEALED UNDER THE VARIOUS BEAUTIES, &C.
In the language of
Pindar
,—
Καὶ πού τι καὶ βροτῶν φρένας, ὑπὲρ τὸν ἀληθῆ λόγον, δεδαιδαλμένοι ψεύδεσι ποικίλοις ἐξαπατῶντι μῦθοι. ΧΑΡΙΣ δ’, ἅπερ ἅπαντα τευ- -χει τὰ μείλιχα θνατοῖς, ἐπιφέροισα τιμὰν, ΚΑΙ ΑΠΙΣΤΟΝ ἘΜΗΣΑΤΟ ΠΙΣΤΟΝ ΕΜΜΕΝΑΙ.
Olymp. I.
"L'homme est de glace aux verités, Il est de feu pour les mensonges."
La Fontaine, Fab. 174.
The reader, I believe, will be pleased with the comparison of a poetical passage so remarkably apposite to this observation of the philosopher; and, indeed, to all this part of his treatise, relative to the management of fiction. On account of the same general relation to the subject, I may be excused for adding these agreeable lines of Plautus:—
Sed quasi Poeta, tabulas cum cepit sibi, Quærit quod nusquam est gentium, reperit tamen, Facit illud verisimile quod mendacium est, Nunc ego Poeta fiam.
Pseud. Act I. Sc. 4.
225.
mvp-aristotle-comment-225
NOTE 225.
24.23
P. 121. THE IDLE PARTS OF THE POEM-.
ἈΡΓΑ μέρη.
The expression is best explained, according to my idea of it, by
Castelvetro
.—
"Dobbiamo intendere per parti otiose, quelle, nelle quali il poeta parla di sua persona, & con favella sua ci fa vedere quello che si fa: le quali perciò si domandano, μέρη ἀργὰ, che non sono in atto, ed operanti, come sono quelle, le quali sono rappresentate in palco, & quelle, nelle quali per gli poeti epopei sono introdotte le persone à favellare; le quali parti, perche paiono pressoche montare in palco, ed operare, si contrappongono alle parti otiose, e contengono, principalmente, le sententie, ed, accessoriamente, i costumi."
p. 578.
Dacier's
"parties foibles,"
in which he is followed by
M. Batteux
, presents a different, and, I think, a wrong idea.
226.
mvp-aristotle-comment-226
NOTE 226.
24.23
P. 121. IN WHICH NEITHER MANNERS NOR SENTIMENTS PREVAIL.
It has been inquired, why Aristotle here passes over in silence the passionate parts of the Poem; to which a laboured and splendid diction seems as ill suited, as it is to the expression of manners and sentiments. This inquiry has produced another; whether he did, or did not, mean to include the passionate parts in
διανοητικοῖς
.
Madius
contends that he did:
Victorius
, that he did not. I believe the latter is right. For if we take
διάνοια
, here, in that wide sense which is given it in
cap. xix.
it will include
"whatever is the object of speech;"
25
"every thing,"
as
Mr. Harris
has explained it,
"for which men employ language."
26
If, therefore, the
μέρη διανοητικὰ
, here, comprehend those thoughts which express passion, they will also comprehend such as express manners, or character; from which Aristotle expressly distinguishes them:
μήτε ἠθικοῖς, μήτε διανοητικοῖς.
But, whether he did, or did not, mean to include the passionate parts of the Poem, it seems true, and he would probably have allowed it, that such a diction as he here describes is improper for the expression of passion: nor is this at all inconsistent, as, on a superficial view, it may seem to be, with the following passage in his
Rhetoric
. —
Τὰ δὲ ὀνόματα, τὰ ἐπίθετα, καὶ διπλᾶ πλείω, καὶ τὰ ξένα, μάλιστα ἁρμόττει λέγοντι ΠΑΘΗΤΙΚΩΣ· συγγνώμη γὰρ ὀργιζομένῳ, κακὸν φάναι "ὀυρανόμηκες," "πελώριον" εἰπεῖν, &c.
27
The strong and figurative language, and, what may be called, the natural Poetry of
passion—a sort of Poetry which we every day hear from the mouths of those, who never made, and scarce, perhaps, ever read, a verse—this is a very different thing from the
ΔΙΑΠΟΝΕΙΝ λέξει
, the
ΛΙΑΝ ΛΑΜΠΡΑ λέξις
, of which the philosopher here speaks.—But, for an exact, though short, discussion of this subject, with its proper distinctions and limitations, I must refer the reader to an excellent note on v. 94, of
Horace's Epistle to the Pisos
.
28
It will be found, I think, perfectly consistent with both the passages of Aristotle here considered, and will afford the best support to the above remarks.
29
227.
mvp-aristotle-comment-227
NOTE 227.
24.23
P. 121. OBSCURED BY TOO SPLENDID A DICTION.
ΑΠΟΚΡΥΠΤΕΙ γὰρ πάλιν ἡ λίαν λαμπρὰ λέξις τὰ ἤθη καὶ τὰς διανοἰας.
—In the same sense, in which
ἐγκρύπτεται
is used, in a similar passage of
Longinus, Sect. 15.
—where, speaking of the effect of lively imagery, in stealing one's attention from argument, he says,
Φύσει δέ πως, ἐν τοῖς τοιούτοις ἅπασιν, ἀεὶ τοῦ κρείττονος ἀκούομεν· ὅθεν, ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀποδεικτικοῦ περιελκόμεθα ἐις τὸ κατὰ φαντασίαν ἐκπληκτικόν, ᾧ τὸ πραγματικὸν ΕΓΚΡΥΠΤΕΤΑΙ ΠΕΡΙΛΑΜΠΟΜΕΝΟΝ.
So also,
Sect. 17.
—
ΑΠΕΚΡΥΨΕ τὸ σχῆμα τῷ ΦΩΤΙ ΑΥΤΩ.
—And again—
διὰ ΛΑΜΠΡΟΤΗΤΑ τὴν τέχνην ΑΠΟΣΚΙΑΖΕΙ, καὶ ὁῖον ἐν ΚΑΤΑΚΑΛΥΨΕΙ τηρεῖ.
The following passage of the Rhetoric, concerning the mixture of the argumentative with the pathetic, will also help to illustrate that before us.
Καὶ ὅταν πάθος ποιῇς, μὴ λέγε ἐνθύμημα· ἢ γὰρ ἐκκρούσει τὸ πάθος, ἢ μάτην εἰρημένον ἔσται, τὸ ἐνθύμημα· ἐκκρούουσι γὰρ αἱ κινήσεις ἀλλήλας, αἱ ἅμα καὶ, ἢ ΑΦΑΝΙΖΟΥΣΙΝ, ἢ ἀσθενεῖς ποιοῦσιν.
Rhet. III. 17. p. 604, E.
In the same manner the expression of Aristotle is well explained by
Piccolomini
, in his commentary,
p. 394.
