Aristoteles Poetics

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Aristoteles, Poetics

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Poetics

y Aristotle

Translated by S. !. utcher

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S#CTI$% &

Part I

I propose to treat of Poetry in itself and of its various 'inds,

noting the essential (uality of each, to in(uire into the structure

of the plot as re(uisite to a good poem) into the number and natureof the parts of *hich a poem is composed) and similarly into *hatever

else falls *ithin the same in(uiry. +ollo*ing, then, the order of

nature, let us begin *ith the principles *hich come first.

#pic poetry and Tragedy, Comedy also and ithyrambic poetry, and the

music of the flute and of the lyre in most of their forms, are allin their general conception modes of imitation. They differ, ho*ever,from one another in three respects" the medium, the ob-ects, the manner

or mode of imitation, being in each case distinct.

+or as there are persons *ho, by conscious art or mere habit, imitate

and represent various ob-ects through the medium of color and form,

or again by the voice) so in the arts above mentioned, ta'en as a*hole, the imitation is produced by rhythm, language, or harmony,

either singly or combined.

Thus in the music of the flute and of the lyre, harmony and rhythmalone are employed) also in other arts, such as that of the shepherds

pipe, *hich are essentially similar to these. In dancing, rhythm alone

is used *ithout harmony) for even dancing imitates character, emotion,and action, by rhythmical movement.

There is another art *hich imitates by means of language alone, andthat either in prose or verse" *hich verse, again, may either combine


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different meters or consist of but one 'ind" but this has hitherto

been *ithout a name. +or there is no common term *e could apply tothe mimes of Sophron and enarchus and the Socratic dialogues on the

one hand) and, on the other, to poetic imitations in iambic, elegiac,

or any similar meter. People do, indeed, add the *ord ma'er or poet

to the name of the meter, and spea' of elegiac poets, or epic 0thatis, he1ameter2 poets, as if it *ere not the imitation that ma'es the

poet, but the verse that entitles them all to the name. #ven *hen

a treatise on medicine or natural science is brought out in verse,the name of poet is by custom given to the author) and yet !omer and

#mpedocles have nothing in common but the meter, so that it *ould

be right to call the one poet, the other physicist rather than poet.$n the same principle, even if a *riter in his poetic imitation *ere

to combine all meters, as Chaeremon did in his Centaur, *hich is a

medley composed of meters of all 'inds, *e should bring him too under

the general term poet.

So much then for these distinctions.

There are, again, some arts *hich employ all the means above mentioned"namely, rhythm, tune, and meter. Such are ithyrambic and %omic poetry,

and also Tragedy and Comedy) but bet*een them originally the difference

is, that in the first t*o cases these means are all employed in combination,in the latter, no* one means is employed, no* another.

Such, then, are the differences of the arts *ith respect to the mediumof imitation

Part II

Since the ob-ects of imitation are men in action, and these men must

be either of a higher or a lo*er type 0for moral character mainly

ans*ers to these divisions, goodness and badness being the distinguishingmar's of moral differences2, it follo*s that *e must represent men

either as better than in real life, or as *orse, or as they are. It

is the same in painting. Polygnotus depicted men as nobler than theyare, Pauson as less noble, ionysius dre* them true to life.

%o* it is evident that each of the modes of imitation above mentioned

*ill e1hibit these differences, and become a distinct 'ind in imitatingob-ects that are thus distinct. Such diversities may be found even

in dancing, flute"playing, and lyre"playing. So again in language,

*hether prose or verse unaccompanied by music. !omer, for e1ample,ma'es men better than they are) Cleophon as they are) !egemon the

Thasian, the inventor of parodies, and %icochares, the author of the

eiliad, *orse than they are. The same thing holds good of ithyrambsand %omes) here too one may portray different types, as Timotheus

and Philo1enus differed in representing their Cyclopes. The same distinction


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mar's off Tragedy from Comedy) for Comedy aims at representing men

as *orse, Tragedy as better than in actual life.

Part III

There is still a third difference" the manner in *hich each of theseob-ects may be imitated. +or the medium being the same, and the ob-ects

the same, the poet may imitate by narration" in *hich case he can

either ta'e another personality as !omer does, or spea' in his o*nperson, unchanged" or he may present all his characters as living

and moving before us.

These, then, as *e said at the beginning, are the three differences

*hich distinguish artistic imitation" the medium, the ob-ects, and

the manner. So that from one point of vie*, Sophocles is an imitator

of the same 'ind as !omer" for both imitate higher types of character)from another point of vie*, of the same 'ind as Aristophanes" for

both imitate persons acting and doing. !ence, some say, the name of

drama is given to such poems, as representing action. +or the samereason the orians claim the invention both of Tragedy and Comedy.

The claim to Comedy is put for*ard by the 3egarians" not only by those

of 4reece proper, *ho allege that it originated under their democracy,but also by the 3egarians of Sicily, for the poet #picharmus, *ho

is much earlier than Chionides and 3agnes, belonged to that country.

Tragedy too is claimed by certain orians of the Peloponnese. In eachcase they appeal to the evidence of language. The outlying villages,

they say, are by them called 'omai, by the Athenians demoi: and they

assume that comedians *ere so named not from 'oma5ein, to revel,

but because they *andered from village to village 0'ata 'omas2, beinge1cluded contemptuously from the city. They add also that the orian

*ord for doing is dran, and the Athenian, prattein.

This may suffice as to the number and nature of the various modes

of imitation.

Part I6

Poetry in general seems to have sprung from t*o causes, each of them

lying deep in our nature. +irst, the instinct of imitation is implantedin man from childhood, one difference bet*een him and other animals

being that he is the most imitative of living creatures, and through

imitation learns his earliest lessons) and no less universal is thepleasure felt in things imitated. 7e have evidence of this in the

facts of e1perience. $b-ects *hich in themselves *e vie* *ith pain,

*e delight to contemplate *hen reproduced *ith minute fidelity: suchas the forms of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause

of this again is, that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not


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only to philosophers but to men in general) *hose capacity, ho*ever,

of learning is more limited. Thus the reason *hy men en-oy seeinga li'eness is, that in contemplating it they find themselves learning

or inferring, and saying perhaps, Ah, that is he. +or if you happen

not to have seen the original, the pleasure *ill be due not to the

imitation as such, but to the e1ecution, the coloring, or some suchother cause.

Imitation, then, is one instinct of our nature. %e1t, there is theinstinct for harmony and rhythm, meters being manifestly sections

of rhythm. Persons, therefore, starting *ith this natural gift developed

by degrees their special aptitudes, till their rude improvisationsgave birth to Poetry.

Poetry no* diverged in t*o directions, according to the individual

character of the *riters. The graver spirits imitated noble actions,and the actions of good men. The more trivial sort imitated the actions

of meaner persons, at first composing satires, as the former did hymns

to the gods and the praises of famous men. A poem of the satirical'ind cannot indeed be put do*n to any author earlier than !omer) though

many such *riters probably there *ere. ut from !omer on*ard, instances

can be cited" his o*n 3argites, for e1ample, and other similar compositions.The appropriate meter *as also here introduced) hence the measure

is still called the iambic or lampooning measure, being that in *hich

people lampooned one another. Thus the older poets *ere distinguishedas *riters of heroic or of lampooning verse.

As, in the serious style, !omer is pre"eminent among poets, for he

alone combined dramatic form *ith e1cellence of imitation so he toofirst laid do*n the main lines of comedy, by dramati5ing the ludicrous

instead of *riting personal satire. !is 3argites bears the same relation

to comedy that the Iliad and $dyssey do to tragedy. ut *hen Tragedyand Comedy came to light, the t*o classes of poets still follo*ed

their natural bent: the lampooners became *riters of Comedy, and the

#pic poets *ere succeeded by Tragedians, since the drama *as a largerand higher form of art.

7hether Tragedy has as yet perfected its proper types or not) and

*hether it is to be -udged in itself, or in relation also to the audience"this raises another (uestion. e that as it may, Tragedy" as also

Comedy" *as at first mere improvisation. The one originated *ith the

authors of the ithyramb, the other *ith those of the phallic songs,*hich are still in use in many of our cities. Tragedy advanced by

slo* degrees) each ne* element that sho*ed itself *as in turn developed.

!aving passed through many changes, it found its natural form, andthere it stopped.


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Aeschylus first introduced a second actor) he diminished the importance

of the Chorus, and assigned the leading part to the dialogue. Sophoclesraised the number of actors to three, and added scene"painting. 3oreover,

it *as not till late that the short plot *as discarded for one of

greater compass, and the grotes(ue diction of the earlier satyric

form for the stately manner of Tragedy. The iambic measure then replacedthe trochaic tetrameter, *hich *as originally employed *hen the poetry

*as of the satyric order, and had greater *ith dancing. $nce dialogue

had come in, %ature herself discovered the appropriate measure. +orthe iambic is, of all measures, the most collo(uial *e see it in the

fact that conversational speech runs into iambic lines more fre(uently

than into any other 'ind of verse) rarely into he1ameters, and only*hen *e drop the collo(uial intonation. The additions to the number

of episodes or acts, and the other accessories of *hich tradition

tells, must be ta'en as already described) for to discuss them in

detail *ould, doubtless, be a large underta'ing.

Part 6

Comedy is, as *e have said, an imitation of characters of a lo*er

type" not, ho*ever, in the full sense of the *ord bad, the ludicrous

being merely a subdivision of the ugly. It consists in some defector ugliness *hich is not painful or destructive. To ta'e an obvious

e1ample, the comic mas' is ugly and distorted, but does not imply

pain.

The successive changes through *hich Tragedy passed, and the authors

of these changes, are *ell 'no*n, *hereas Comedy has had no history,

because it *as not at first treated seriously. It *as late beforethe Archon granted a comic chorus to a poet) the performers *ere till

then voluntary. Comedy had already ta'en definite shape *hen comic

poets, distinctively so called, are heard of. 7ho furnished it *ithmas's, or prologues, or increased the number of actors" these and

other similar details remain un'no*n. As for the plot, it came originally

from Sicily) but of Athenian *riters Crates *as the first *ho abandoningthe iambic or lampooning form, generali5ed his themes and plots.

#pic poetry agrees *ith Tragedy in so far as it is an imitation in

verse of characters of a higher type. They differ in that #pic poetryadmits but one 'ind of meter and is narrative in form. They differ,

again, in their length: for Tragedy endeavors, as far as possible,

to confine itself to a single revolution of the sun, or but slightlyto e1ceed this limit, *hereas the #pic action has no limits of time.

This, then, is a second point of difference) though at first the same

freedom *as admitted in Tragedy as in #pic poetry.

$f their constituent parts some are common to both, some peculiar


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to Tragedy: *hoever, therefore 'no*s *hat is good or bad Tragedy,

'no*s also about #pic poetry. All the elements of an #pic poem arefound in Tragedy, but the elements of a Tragedy are not all found

in the #pic poem.

Part 6I

$f the poetry *hich imitates in he1ameter verse, and of Comedy, *e

*ill spea' hereafter. 8et us no* discuss Tragedy, resuming its formaldefinition, as resulting from *hat has been already said.

Tragedy, then, is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete,and of a certain magnitude) in language embellished *ith each 'ind

of artistic ornament, the several 'inds being found in separate parts

of the play) in the form of action, not of narrative) through pity

and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions. y languageembellished, I mean language into *hich rhythm, harmony and song

enter. y the several 'inds in separate parts, I mean, that some

parts are rendered through the medium of verse alone, others again*ith the aid of song.

%o* as tragic imitation implies persons acting, it necessarily follo*sin the first place, that Spectacular e(uipment *ill be a part of Tragedy.

%e1t, Song and iction, for these are the media of imitation. y iction

I mean the mere metrical arrangement of the *ords: as for Song,it is a term *hose sense every one understands.

Again, Tragedy is the imitation of an action) and an action implies

personal agents, *ho necessarily possess certain distinctive (ualitiesboth of character and thought) for it is by these that *e (ualify

actions themselves, and these" thought and character" are the t*o

natural causes from *hich actions spring, and on actions again allsuccess or failure depends. !ence, the Plot is the imitation of the

action" for by plot I here mean the arrangement of the incidents.

y Character I mean that in virtue of *hich *e ascribe certain (ualitiesto the agents. Thought is re(uired *herever a statement is proved,

or, it may be, a general truth enunciated. #very Tragedy, therefore,

must have si1 parts, *hich parts determine its (uality" namely, Plot,

Character, iction, Thought, Spectacle, Song. T*o of the parts constitutethe medium of imitation, one the manner, and three the ob-ects of

imitation. And these complete the fist. These elements have been employed,

*e may say, by the poets to a man) in fact, every play contains Spectacularelements as *ell as Character, Plot, iction, Song, and Thought.

ut most important of all is the structure of the incidents. +or Tragedyis an imitation, not of men, but of an action and of life, and life

consists in action, and its end is a mode of action, not a (uality.


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%o* character determines mens (ualities, but it is by their actions

that they are happy or the reverse. ramatic action, therefore, isnot *ith a vie* to the representation of character: character comes

in as subsidiary to the actions. !ence the incidents and the plot

are the end of a tragedy) and the end is the chief thing of all. Again,

*ithout action there cannot be a tragedy) there may be *ithout character.The tragedies of most of our modern poets fail in the rendering of

character) and of poets in general this is often true. It is the same

in painting) and here lies the difference bet*een 9eu1is and Polygnotus.Polygnotus delineates character *ell) the style of 9eu1is is devoid

of ethical (uality. Again, if you string together a set of speeches

e1pressive of character, and *ell finished in point of diction andthought, you *ill not produce the essential tragic effect nearly so

*ell as *ith a play *hich, ho*ever deficient in these respects, yet

has a plot and artistically constructed incidents. esides *hich,

the most po*erful elements of emotional interest in Tragedy" Peripeteiaor eversal of the Situation, and ecognition scenes" are parts of

the plot. A further proof is, that novices in the art attain to finish

of diction and precision of portraiture before they can constructthe plot. It is the same *ith almost all the early poets.

The plot, then, is the first principle, and, as it *ere, the soulof a tragedy) Character holds the second place. A similar fact is

seen in painting. The most beautiful colors, laid on confusedly, *ill

not give as much pleasure as the chal' outline of a portrait. ThusTragedy is the imitation of an action, and of the agents mainly *ith

a vie* to the action.

Third in order is Thought" that is, the faculty of saying *hat ispossible and pertinent in given circumstances. In the case of oratory,

this is the function of the political art and of the art of rhetoric:

and so indeed the older poets ma'e their characters spea' the languageof civic life) the poets of our time, the language of the rhetoricians.

Character is that *hich reveals moral purpose, sho*ing *hat 'ind of

things a man chooses or avoids. Speeches, therefore, *hich do notma'e this manifest, or in *hich the spea'er does not choose or avoid

anything *hatever, are not e1pressive of character. Thought, on the

other hand, is found *here something is proved to be or not to be,

or a general ma1im is enunciated.

+ourth among the elements enumerated comes iction) by *hich I mean,

as has been already said, the e1pression of the meaning in *ords)and its essence is the same both in verse and prose.

$f the remaining elements Song holds the chief place among the embellishments

The Spectacle has, indeed, an emotional attraction of its o*n, but,


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of all the parts, it is the least artistic, and connected least *ith

the art of poetry. +or the po*er of Tragedy, *e may be sure, is felteven apart from representation and actors. esides, the production

of spectacular effects depends more on the art of the stage machinist

than on that of the poet.

Part 6II

These principles being established, let us no* discuss the properstructure of the Plot, since this is the first and most important

thing in Tragedy.

%o*, according to our definition Tragedy is an imitation of an action

that is complete, and *hole, and of a certain magnitude) for there

may be a *hole that is *anting in magnitude. A *hole is that *hich

has a beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning is that *hich doesnot itself follo* anything by causal necessity, but after *hich something

naturally is or comes to be. An end, on the contrary, is that *hich

itself naturally follo*s some other thing, either by necessity, oras a rule, but has nothing follo*ing it. A middle is that *hich follo*s

something as some other thing follo*s it. A *ell constructed plot,

therefore, must neither begin nor end at hapha5ard, but conform tothese principles.

Again, a beautiful ob-ect, *hether it be a living organism or any*hole composed of parts, must not only have an orderly arrangement

of parts, but must also be of a certain magnitude) for beauty depends

on magnitude and order. !ence a very small animal organism cannot

be beautiful) for the vie* of it is confused, the ob-ect being seenin an almost imperceptible moment of time. %or, again, can one of

vast si5e be beautiful) for as the eye cannot ta'e it all in at once,

the unity and sense of the *hole is lost for the spectator) as forinstance if there *ere one a thousand miles long. As, therefore, in

the case of animate bodies and organisms a certain magnitude is necessary,

and a magnitude *hich may be easily embraced in one vie*) so in theplot, a certain length is necessary, and a length *hich can be easily

embraced by the memory. The limit of length in relation to dramatic

competition and sensuous presentment is no part of artistic theory.

+or had it been the rule for a hundred tragedies to compete together,the performance *ould have been regulated by the *ater"cloc'" as indeed

*e are told *as formerly done. ut the limit as fi1ed by the nature

of the drama itself is this: the greater the length, the more beautiful*ill the piece be by reason of its si5e, provided that the *hole be

perspicuous. And to define the matter roughly, *e may say that the

proper magnitude is comprised *ithin such limits, that the se(uenceof events, according to the la* of probability or necessity, *ill

admit of a change from bad fortune to good, or from good fortune to


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there are even some tragedies in *hich there are only one or t*o *ell"'no*n

names, the rest being fictitious. In others, none are *ell 'no*n"as in Agathons Antheus, *here incidents and names ali'e are fictitious,

and yet they give none the less pleasure. 7e must not, therefore,

at all costs 'eep to the received legends, *hich are the usual sub-ects

of Tragedy. Indeed, it *ould be absurd to attempt it) for even sub-ectsthat are 'no*n are 'no*n only to a fe*, and yet give pleasure to all.

It clearly follo*s that the poet or ma'er should be the ma'er of

plots rather than of verses) since he is a poet because he imitates,and *hat he imitates are actions. And even if he chances to ta'e a

historical sub-ect, he is none the less a poet) for there is no reason

*hy some events that have actually happened should not conform tothe la* of the probable and possible, and in virtue of that (uality

in them he is their poet or ma'er.

$f all plots and actions the episodic are the *orst. I call a plotepisodic in *hich the episodes or acts succeed one another *ithout

probable or necessary se(uence. ad poets compose such pieces by their

o*n fault, good poets, to please the players) for, as they *rite sho*pieces for competition, they stretch the plot beyond its capacity,

and are often forced to brea' the natural continuity.

ut again, Tragedy is an imitation not only of a complete action,

but of events inspiring fear or pity. Such an effect is best produced

*hen the events come on us by surprise) and the effect is heightened*hen, at the same time, they follo*s as cause and effect. The tragic

*onder *ill then be greater than if they happened of themselves or

by accident) for even coincidences are most stri'ing *hen they have

an air of design. 7e may instance the statue of 3itys at Argos, *hichfell upon his murderer *hile he *as a spectator at a festival, and

'illed him. Such events seem not to be due to mere chance. Plots,

therefore, constructed on these principles are necessarily the best.

Part

Plots are either Simple or Comple1, for the actions in real life,

of *hich the plots are an imitation, obviously sho* a similar distinction.

An action *hich is one and continuous in the sense above defined,

I call Simple, *hen the change of fortune ta'es place *ithout eversalof the Situation and *ithout ecognition

A Comple1 action is one in *hich the change is accompanied by sucheversal, or by ecognition, or by both. These last should arise from

the internal structure of the plot, so that *hat follo*s should be

the necessary or probable result of the preceding action. It ma'esall the difference *hether any given event is a case of propter hoc

or post hoc.


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Part I

eversal of the Situation is a change by *hich the action veers round

to its opposite, sub-ect al*ays to our rule of probability or necessity.

Thus in the $edipus, the messenger comes to cheer $edipus and freehim from his alarms about his mother, but by revealing *ho he is,

he produces the opposite effect. Again in the 8ynceus, 8ynceus is

being led a*ay to his death, and anaus goes *ith him, meaning toslay him) but the outcome of the preceding incidents is that anaus

is 'illed and 8ynceus saved.

ecognition, as the name indicates, is a change from ignorance to

'no*ledge, producing love or hate bet*een the persons destined by

the poet for good or bad fortune. The best form of recognition is

coincident *ith a eversal of the Situation, as in the $edipus. Thereare indeed other forms. #ven inanimate things of the most trivial

'ind may in a sense be ob-ects of recognition. Again, *e may recogni5e

or discover *hether a person has done a thing or not. ut the recognition*hich is most intimately connected *ith the plot and action is, as

*e have said, the recognition of persons. This recognition, combined

*ith eversal, *ill produce either pity or fear) and actions producingthese effects are those *hich, by our definition, Tragedy represents.

3oreover, it is upon such situations that the issues of good or bad

fortune *ill depend. ecognition, then, being bet*een persons, itmay happen that one person only is recogni5ed by the other" *hen the

latter is already 'no*n" or it may be necessary that the recognition

should be on both sides. Thus Iphigenia is revealed to $restes by

the sending of the letter) but another act of recognition is re(uiredto ma'e $restes 'no*n to Iphigenia.

T*o parts, then, of the Plot" eversal of the Situation and ecognition"turn upon surprises. A third part is the Scene of Suffering. The Scene

of Suffering is a destructive or painful action, such as death on

the stage, bodily agony, *ounds, and the li'e.

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S#CTI$% .

#very *ord is either current, or strange, or metaphorical, or ornamental,or ne*ly"coined, or lengthened, or contracted, or altered.

y a current or proper *ord I mean one *hich is in general use amonga people) by a strange *ord, one *hich is in use in another country.

Plainly, therefore, the same *ord may be at once strange and current,

but not in relation to the same people. The *ord sigynon, lance,

is to the Cyprians a current term but to us a strange one.

3etaphor is the application of an alien name by transference either

from genus to species, or from species to genus, or from species tospecies, or by analogy, that is, proportion. Thus from genus to species,

as: There lies my ship) for lying at anchor is a species of lying.

+rom species to genus, as: 6erily ten thousand noble deeds hath $dysseus*rought) for ten thousand is a species of large number, and is here

used for a large number generally. +rom species to species, as: 7ith


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blade of bron5e dre* a*ay the life, and Cleft the *ater *ith the

vessel of unyielding bron5e. !ere arusai, to dra* a*ay is usedfor tamein, to cleave, and tamein, again for arusai" each being

a species of ta'ing a*ay. Analogy or proportion is *hen the second

term is to the first as the fourth to the third. 7e may then use the

fourth for the second, or the second for the fourth. Sometimes too*e (ualify the metaphor by adding the term to *hich the proper *ord

is relative. Thus the cup is to ionysus as the shield to Ares. The

cup may, therefore, be called the shield of ionysus, and the shieldthe cup of Ares. $r, again, as old age is to life, so is evening

to day. #vening may therefore be called, the old age of the day,

and old age, the evening of life, or, in the phrase of #mpedocles,lifes setting sun. +or some of the terms of the proportion there

is at times no *ord in e1istence) still the metaphor may be used.

+or instance, to scatter seed is called so*ing: but the action of

the sun in scattering his rays is nameless. Still this process bearsto the sun the same relation as so*ing to the seed. !ence the e1pression

of the poet so*ing the god"created light. There is another *ay in

*hich this 'ind of metaphor may be employed. 7e may apply an alienterm, and then deny of that term one of its proper attributes) as

if *e *ere to call the shield, not the cup of Ares, but the *ineless

cup.

A ne*ly"coined *ord is one *hich has never been even in local use,

but is adopted by the poet himself. Some such *ords there appear tobe: as ernyges, sprouters, for 'erata, horns) and areter, supplicator,

for hiereus, priest.

A *ord is lengthened *hen its o*n vo*el is e1changed for a longerone, or *hen a syllable is inserted. A *ord is contracted *hen some

part of it is removed. Instances of lengthening are: poleos for poleos,

Peleiadeo for Peleidou) of contraction: 'ri, do, and ops, as in miaginetai amphoteron ops, the appearance of both is one.

An altered *ord is one in *hich part of the ordinary form is leftunchanged, and part is recast: as in de1iteron 'ata ma5on, on the

right breast, de1iteron is for de1ion.

%ouns in themselves are either masculine, feminine, or neuter. 3asculineare such as end in %, , S, or in some letter compounded *ith S" these

being t*o, PS and . +eminine, such as end in vo*els that are al*ays

long, namely # and $, and" of vo*els that admit of lengthening" thosein A. Thus the number of letters in *hich nouns masculine and feminine

end is the same) for PS and are e(uivalent to endings in S. %o noun

ends in a mute or a vo*el short by nature. Three only end in I" meli,honey) 'ommi, gum) peperi, pepper) five end in ;. %euter nouns

end in these t*o latter vo*els) also in % and S.


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Part II

The perfection of style is to be clear *ithout being mean. The clearest

style is that *hich uses only current or proper *ords) at the same

time it is mean" *itness the poetry of Cleophon and of Sthenelus.That diction, on the other hand, is lofty and raised above the commonplace

*hich employs unusual *ords. y unusual, I mean strange 0or rare2

*ords, metaphorical, lengthened" anything, in short, that differsfrom the normal idiom. ?et a style *holly composed of such *ords is

either a riddle or a -argon) a riddle, if it consists of metaphors)

a -argon, if it consists of strange 0or rare2 *ords. +or the essenceof a riddle is to e1press true facts under impossible combinations.

%o* this cannot be done by any arrangement of ordinary *ords, but

by the use of metaphor it can. Such is the riddle: A man I sa* *ho

on another man had glued the bron5e by aid of fire, and others ofthe same 'ind. A diction that is made up of strange 0or rare2 terms

is a -argon. A certain infusion, therefore, of these elements is necessary

to style) for the strange 0or rare2 *ord, the metaphorical, the ornamental,and the other 'inds above mentioned, *ill raise it above the commonplace

and mean, *hile the use of proper *ords *ill ma'e it perspicuous.

ut nothing contributes more to produce a cleanness of diction thatis remote from commonness than the lengthening, contraction, and alteration

of *ords. +or by deviating in e1ceptional cases from the normal idiom,

the language *ill gain distinction) *hile, at the same time, the partialconformity *ith usage *ill give perspicuity. The critics, therefore,

are in error *ho censure these licenses of speech, and hold the author

up to ridicule. Thus #ucleides, the elder, declared that it *ould

be an easy matter to be a poet if you might lengthen syllables at*ill. !e caricatured the practice in the very form of his diction,

as in the verse:

B#picharen eidon 3arathonade badi5onta,

BI sa* #pichares *al'ing to 3arathon, B

or,

Bou' an geramenos ton e'einou elleboron.

B%ot if you desire his hellebore. B

To employ such license at all obtrusively is, no doubt, grotes(ue)

but in any mode of poetic diction there must be moderation. #ven metaphors,

strange 0or rare2 *ords, or any similar forms of speech, *ould producethe li'e effect if used *ithout propriety and *ith the e1press purpose

of being ludicrous. !o* great a difference is made by the appropriate


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use of lengthening, may be seen in #pic poetry by the insertion of

ordinary forms in the verse. So, again, if *e ta'e a strange 0or rare2*ord, a metaphor, or any similar mode of e1pression, and replace it

by the current or proper term, the truth of our observation *ill be

manifest. +or e1ample, Aeschylus and #uripides each composed the same

iambic line. ut the alteration of a single *ord by #uripides, *hoemployed the rarer term instead of the ordinary one, ma'es one verse

appear beautiful and the other trivial. Aeschylus in his Philoctetes

says:

Bphagedaina dhe mou sar'as esthiei podos.

BThe tumor *hich is eating the flesh of my foot. B

#uripides substitutes thoinatai, feasts on, for esthiei, feeds

on. Again, in the line,

Bnun de meon oligos te 'ai outidanos 'ai aei'es,

B?et a small man, *orthless and unseemly, B

the difference *ill be felt if *e substitute the common *ords,

Bnun de meon mi'ros te 'ai astheni'os 'ai aeides.

B?et a little fello*, *ea' and ugly. B

$r, if for the line,

Bdiphron aei'elion 'atatheis oligen te trape5an,

BSetting an unseemly couch and a meager table, B

*e read,

Bdiphron mochtheron 'atatheis mi'ran te trape5an.

BSetting a *retched couch and a puny table. B

$r, for eiones booosin, the sea shores roar, eiones 'ra5ousin,

the sea shores screech.

Again, Ariphrades ridiculed the tragedians for using phrases *hich

no one *ould employ in ordinary speech: for e1ample, domaton apo,

from the house a*ay, instead of apo domaton, a*ay from the house)sethen, ego de nin, to thee, and I to him) Achilleos peri, Achilles

about, instead of peri Achilleos, about Achilles) and the li'e.


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It is precisely because such phrases are not part of the current idiom

that they give distinction to the style. This, ho*ever, he failedto see.

It is a great matter to observe propriety in these several modes of

e1pression, as also in compound *ords, strange 0or rare2 *ords, andso forth. ut the greatest thing by far is to have a command of metaphor.

This alone cannot be imparted by another) it is the mar' of genius,

for to ma'e good metaphors implies an eye for resemblances.

$f the various 'inds of *ords, the compound are best adapted to dithyrambs,

rare *ords to heroic poetry, metaphors to iambic. In heroic poetry,indeed, all these varieties are serviceable. ut in iambic verse,

*hich reproduces, as far as may be, familiar speech, the most appropriate

*ords are those *hich are found even in prose. These are the current

or proper, the metaphorical, the ornamental.

Concerning Tragedy and imitation by means of action this may suffice.

Part III

As to that poetic imitation *hich is narrative in form and employsa single meter, the plot manifestly ought, as in a tragedy, to be

constructed on dramatic principles. It should have for its sub-ect

a single action, *hole and complete, *ith a beginning, a middle, andan end. It *ill thus resemble a living organism in all its unity,

and produce the pleasure proper to it. It *ill differ in structure

from historical compositions, *hich of necessity present not a single

action, but a single period, and all that happened *ithin that periodto one person or to many, little connected together as the events

may be. +or as the sea"fight at Salamis and the battle *ith the Carthaginians

in Sicily too' place at the same time, but did not tend to any oneresult, so in the se(uence of events, one thing sometimes follo*s

another, and yet no single result is thereby produced. Such is the

practice, *e may say, of most poets. !ere again, then, as has beenalready observed, the transcendent e1cellence of !omer is manifest.

!e never attempts to ma'e the *hole *ar of Troy the sub-ect of his

poem, though that *ar had a beginning and an end. It *ould have been

too vast a theme, and not easily embraced in a single vie*. If, again,he had 'ept it *ithin moderate limits, it must have been over"complicated

by the variety of the incidents. As it is, he detaches a single portion,

and admits as episodes many events from the general story of the *ar"such as the Catalogue of the ships and others" thus diversifying the

poem. All other poets ta'e a single hero, a single period, or an action

single indeed, but *ith a multiplicity of parts. Thus did the authorof the Cypria and of the 8ittle Iliad. +or this reason the Iliad and

the $dyssey each furnish the sub-ect of one tragedy, or, at most,


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of t*o) *hile the Cypria supplies materials for many, and the 8ittle

Iliad for eight" the A*ard of the Arms, the Philoctetes, the %eoptolemus,the #urypylus, the 3endicant $dysseus, the 8aconian 7omen, the +all

of Ilium, the eparture of the +leet.

Part I6

Again, #pic poetry must have as many 'inds as Tragedy: it must be

simple, or comple1, or ethical,or pathetic. The parts also, *iththe e1ception of song and spectacle, are the same) for it re(uires

eversals of the Situation, ecognitions, and Scenes of Suffering.

3oreover, the thoughts and the diction must be artistic. In all theserespects !omer is our earliest and sufficient model. Indeed each of

his poems has a t*ofold character. The Iliad is at once simple and

pathetic, and the $dyssey comple1 0for ecognition scenes run through

it2, and at the same time ethical. 3oreover, in diction and thoughtthey are supreme.

#pic poetry differs from Tragedy in the scale on *hich it is constructed,and in its meter. As regards scale or length, *e have already laid

do*n an ade(uate limit: the beginning and the end must be capable

of being brought *ithin a single vie*. This condition *ill be satisfiedby poems on a smaller scale than the old epics, and ans*ering in length

to the group of tragedies presented at a single sitting.

#pic poetry has, ho*ever, a great" a special" capacity for enlarging

its dimensions, and *e can see the reason. In Tragedy *e cannot imitate

several lines of actions carried on at one and the same time) *e must

confine ourselves to the action on the stage and the part ta'en bythe players. ut in #pic poetry, o*ing to the narrative form, many

events simultaneously transacted can be presented) and these, if relevant

to the sub-ect, add mass and dignity to the poem. The #pic has herean advantage, and one that conduces to grandeur of effect, to diverting

the mind of the hearer, and relieving the story *ith varying episodes.

+or sameness of incident soon produces satiety, and ma'es tragediesfail on the stage.

As for the meter, the heroic measure has proved its fitness by he1ameter

test of e1perience. If a narrative poem in any other meter or in manymeters *ere no* composed, it *ould be found incongruous. +or of all

measures the heroic is the stateliest and the most massive) and hence

it most readily admits rare *ords and metaphors, *hich is anotherpoint in *hich the narrative form of imitation stands alone. $n the

other hand, the iambic and the trochaic tetrameter are stirring measures,

the latter being a'in to dancing, the former e1pressive of action.Still more absurd *ould it be to mi1 together different meters, as

*as done by Chaeremon. !ence no one has ever composed a poem on a


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great scale in any other than heroic verse. %ature herself, as *e

have said, teaches the choice of the proper measure.

!omer, admirable in all respects, has the special merit of being the

only poet *ho rightly appreciates the part he should ta'e himself.

The poet should spea' as little as possible in his o*n person, forit is not this that ma'es him an imitator. $ther poets appear themselves

upon the scene throughout, and imitate but little and rarely. !omer,

after a fe* prefatory *ords, at once brings in a man, or *oman, orother personage) none of them *anting in characteristic (ualities,

but each *ith a character of his o*n.

The element of the *onderful is re(uired in Tragedy. The irrational,

on *hich the *onderful depends for its chief effects, has *ider scope

in #pic poetry, because there the person acting is not seen. Thus,

the pursuit of !ector *ould be ludicrous if placed upon the stage"the 4ree's standing still and not -oining in the pursuit, and Achilles

*aving them bac'. ut in the #pic poem the absurdity passes unnoticed.

%o* the *onderful is pleasing, as may be inferred from the fact thatevery one tells a story *ith some addition of his 'no*ing that his

hearers li'e it. It is !omer *ho has chiefly taught other poets the

art of telling lies s'ilfully. The secret of it lies in a fallacy+or, assuming that if one thing is or becomes, a second is or becomes,

men imagine that, if the second is, the first li'e*ise is or becomes.

ut this is a false inference. !ence, *here the first thing is untrue,it is (uite unnecessary, provided the second be true, to add that

the first is or has become. +or the mind, 'no*ing the second to be

true, falsely infers the truth of the first. There is an e1ample of

this in the ath Scene of the $dyssey.

Accordingly, the poet should prefer probable impossibilities to improbable

possibilities. The tragic plot must not be composed of irrationalparts. #verything irrational should, if possible, be e1cluded) or,

at all events, it should lie outside the action of the play 0as, in

the $edipus, the heros ignorance as to the manner of 8aius death2)not *ithin the drama" as in the #lectra, the messengers account of

the Pythian games) or, as in the 3ysians, the man *ho has come from

Tegea to 3ysia and is still speechless. The plea that other*ise the

plot *ould have been ruined, is ridiculous) such a plot should notin the first instance be constructed. ut once the irrational has

been introduced and an air of li'elihood imparted to it, *e must accept

it in spite of the absurdity. Ta'e even the irrational incidents inthe $dyssey, *here $dysseus is left upon the shore of Ithaca. !o*

intolerable even these might have been *ould be apparent if an inferior

poet *ere to treat the sub-ect. As it is, the absurdity is veiledby the poetic charm *ith *hich the poet invests it.


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The diction should be elaborated in the pauses of the action, *here

there is no e1pression of character or thought. +or, conversely, characterand thought are merely obscured by a diction that is over"brilliant

Part 6

7ith respect to critical difficulties and their solutions, the number

and nature of the sources from *hich they may be dra*n may be thus

e1hibited.

The poet being an imitator, li'e a painter or any other artist, must

of necessity imitate one of three ob-ects" things as they *ere orare, things as they are said or thought to be, or things as they ought

to be. The vehicle of e1pression is language" either current terms

or, it may be, rare *ords or metaphors. There are also many modifications

of language, *hich *e concede to the poets. Add to this, that thestandard of correctness is not the same in poetry and politics, any

more than in poetry and any other art. 7ithin the art of poetry itself

there are t*o 'inds of faults" those *hich touch its essence, andthose *hich are accidental. If a poet has chosen to imitate something,

=but has imitated it incorrectly> through *ant of capacity, the error

is inherent in the poetry. ut if the failure is due to a *rong choice"if he has represented a horse as thro*ing out both his off legs at

once, or introduced technical inaccuracies in medicine, for e1ample,

or in any other art" the error is not essential to the poetry. Theseare the points of vie* from *hich *e should consider and ans*er the

ob-ections raised by the critics.

+irst as to matters *hich concern the poets o*n art. If he describesthe impossible, he is guilty of an error) but the error may be -ustified,

if the end of the art be thereby attained 0the end being that already

mentioned2" if, that is, the effect of this or any other part of thepoem is thus rendered more stri'ing. A case in point is the pursuit

of !ector. if, ho*ever, the end might have been as *ell, or better,

attained *ithout violating the special rules of the poetic art, theerror is not -ustified: for every 'ind of error should, if possible,

be avoided.

Again, does the error touch the essentials of the poetic art, or someaccident of it@ +or e1ample, not to 'no* that a hind has no horns

is a less serious matter than to paint it inartistically.

+urther, if it be ob-ected that the description is not true to fact,

the poet may perhaps reply, ut the ob-ects are as they ought to

be) -ust as Sophocles said that he dre* men as they ought to be)#uripides, as they are. In this *ay the ob-ection may be met. If,

ho*ever, the representation be of neither 'ind, the poet may ans*er,


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30/32

or *or'ers in bron5e. This, ho*ever, may also be ta'en as a metaphor.

Again, *hen a *ord seems to involve some inconsistency of meaning,

*e should consider ho* many senses it may bear in the particular passage.

+or e1ample: there *as stayed the spear of bron5e" *e should as'

in ho* many *ays *e may ta'e being chec'ed there. The true modeof interpretation is the precise opposite of *hat 4laucon mentions.

Critics, he says, -ump at certain groundless conclusions) they pass

adverse -udgement and then proceed to reason on it) and, assumingthat the poet has said *hatever they happen to thin', find fault if

a thing is inconsistent *ith their o*n fancy.

The (uestion about Icarius has been treated in this fashion. The critics

imagine he *as a 8acedaemonian. They thin' it strange, therefore,

that Telemachus should not have met him *hen he *ent to 8acedaemon.

ut the Cephallenian story may perhaps be the true one. They allegethat $dysseus too' a *ife from among themselves, and that her father

*as Icadius, not Icarius. It is merely a mista'e, then, that gives

plausibility to the ob-ection.

In general, the impossible must be -ustified by reference to artistic

re(uirements, or to the higher reality, or to received opinion. 7ithrespect to the re(uirements of art, a probable impossibility is to

be preferred to a thing improbable and yet possible. Again, it may

be impossible that there should be men such as 9eu1is painted. ?es,*e say, but the impossible is the higher thing) for the ideal type

must surpass the realty. To -ustify the irrational, *e appeal to

*hat is commonly said to be. In addition to *hich, *e urge that the

irrational sometimes does not violate reason) -ust as it is probablethat a thing may happen contrary to probability.

Things that sound contradictory should be e1amined by the same rulesas in dialectical refutation" *hether the same thing is meant, in

the same relation, and in the same sense. 7e should therefore solve

the (uestion by reference to *hat the poet says himself, or to *hatis tacitly assumed by a person of intelligence.

The element of the irrational, and, similarly, depravity of character,

are -ustly censured *hen there is no inner necessity for introducingthem. Such is the irrational element in the introduction of Aegeus

by #uripides and the badness of 3enelaus in the $restes.

Thus, there are five sources from *hich critical ob-ections are dra*n.

Things are censured either as impossible, or irrational, or morally

hurtful, or contradictory, or contrary to artistic correctness. Theans*ers should be sought under the t*elve heads above mentioned.


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Part 6I

The (uestion may be raised *hether the #pic or Tragic mode of imitation

is the higher. If the more refined art is the higher, and the more

refined in every case is that *hich appeals to the better sort of

audience, the art *hich imitates anything and everything is manifestlymost unrefined. The audience is supposed to be too dull to comprehend

unless something of their o*n is thro*n by the performers, *ho therefore

indulge in restless movements. ad flute"players t*ist and t*irl,if they have to represent the (uoit"thro*, or hustle the coryphaeus

*hen they perform the Scylla. Tragedy, it is said, has this same defect.

7e may compare the opinion that the older actors entertained of theirsuccessors. 3ynniscus used to call Callippides ape on account of

the e1travagance of his action, and the same vie* *as held of Pindarus.

Tragic art, then, as a *hole, stands to #pic in the same relation

as the younger to the elder actors. So *e are told that #pic poetryis addressed to a cultivated audience, *ho do not need gesture) Tragedy,

to an inferior public. eing then unrefined, it is evidently the lo*er

of the t*o.

%o*, in the first place, this censure attaches not to the poetic but

to the histrionic art) for gesticulation may be e(ually overdone inepic recitation, as by Sosistratus, or in lyrical competition, as

by 3nasitheus the $puntian. %e1t, all action is not to be condemned"

any more than all dancing" but only that of bad performers. Such *asthe fault found in Callippides, as also in others of our o*n day,

*ho are censured for representing degraded *omen. Again, Tragedy li'e

#pic poetry produces its effect even *ithout action) it reveals its

po*er by mere reading. If, then, in all other respects it is superior,this fault, *e say, is not inherent in it.

And superior it is, because it has an the epic elements" it may evenuse the epic meter" *ith the music and spectacular effects as important

accessories) and these produce the most vivid of pleasures. +urther,

it has vividness of impression in reading as *ell as in representation.3oreover, the art attains its end *ithin narro*er limits for the concentrated

effect is more pleasurable than one *hich is spread over a long time

and so diluted. 7hat, for e1ample, *ould be the effect of the $edipus

of Sophocles, if it *ere cast into a form as long as the Iliad@ $ncemore, the #pic imitation has less unity) as is sho*n by this, that

any #pic poem *ill furnish sub-ects for several tragedies. Thus if

the story adopted by the poet has a strict unity, it must either beconcisely told and appear truncated) or, if it conforms to the #pic

canon of length, it must seem *ea' and *atery. =Such length implies

some loss of unity,> if, I mean, the poem is constructed out of severalactions, li'e the Iliad and the $dyssey, *hich have many such parts,

each *ith a certain magnitude of its o*n. ?et these poems are as perfect


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as possible in structure) each is, in the highest degree attainable,

an imitation of a single action.

If, then, tragedy is superior to epic poetry in all these respects,

and, moreover, fulfills its specific function better as an art" for

each art ought to produce, not any chance pleasure, but the pleasureproper to it, as already stated" it plainly follo*s that tragedy is

the higher art, as attaining its end more perfectly.

Thus much may suffice concerning Tragic and #pic poetry in general)

their several 'inds and parts, *ith the number of each and their differences)

the causes that ma'e a poem good or bad) the ob-ections of the criticsand the ans*ers to these ob-ections....

T!# #%

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Aristoteles Poetics