II.

For, as men, some through art, and some through habit, imitate various objects, by means of colour and figure, and others, again, by voiceVocal mimicry, imitation by tone of voice merely: See Diss. I. towards the end, Note. And NOTE 2, on this passage.; so, with respect to the arts above-mentioned, rhythm, words, and melody, are the different means by which, either single, or variously combined, they all produce their imitation.

For example: in the imitations of the flute, and the lyre, and of any other instruments capable of producing a similar effect—as the syrinx, or pipe—melody and rhythm only are employed. In those of Dance, rhythm alone, without melody; for there are dancers who, by rhythm applied to gestureThe expression seems inaccurate; for it is by their gestures that they express, or imitate; not by the rhythm, or measured motion, of those gestures. See NOTE 4, where I have endeavoured to account for Aristotle's expressing himself thus., express manners, passions, and actions.

The EPOPOEIA imitates by words alone, or by verse; and that verse may either be composed of various metres, or confined, according to the practice hitherto established, to a single speciesi. e. by words only, without melody and rhythm; or, at most, with no other rhythm than is implied in the idea of metre:—without rhythm in its musical acceptation of time. See NOTE 5.. For we should, otherwise, have no general name which would comprehend the Mimes of SOPHRON and XENARCHUS, and the Socratic dialogues; or Poems in Iambic, Elegiac, or other metres, in which the Epic species of imitation may be conveyed. Custom, indeed, connecting the poetry or making with the metre, has denominated some Elegiac Poets, i. e. makersIt may be necessary to observe, that the Greek word, (ποιητης-poiétes) whence poeta, and poet, is, literally, maker; and maker, it is well known, was once the current term for poet in our language; and to write verses, was, to make. Sir Philip Sidney, speaking of the Greek word, says "wherein, I know not whether by luck or wisdom, we Englishmen have met with the Greeks, in calling him Maker." Defense of Poesy. So Spenser; The god of shepherds, Tityrus, is dead, Who taught me, homely, as I can, to MAKE. Shep. Cal. JUNE. of elegiac verse; others, Epic Poets; i. e. makers of hexameter verse; thus distinguishing the Poets, not according to the nature of their imitation, but according to that of their metre only. For even they, who compose treatises of medicine, or natural philosophy, in verse, are denominated Poets: yet HOMER and EMPEDOCLES have nothing in common, except their metre; the former, therefore, justly merits the name of Poet; while the other should rather be called a Physiologist than a Poet.

So, also, though any one should chuse to convey his imitation in every kind of metre, promiscuously, as CHAEREMON has done in his Centaur, which is a medley of all sorts of verse, it would not immediately follow, that, on that account merely, he was entitled to the name of Poet. But of this, enough.

There are, again, other species of Poetry which make use of all the means of imitation, rhythm, melody, and verse. Such are, the Dithyrambic, that of Nomes, Tragedy, and Comedy: with this difference, however, that in some of these, they are employed all together, in others, separatelyIn Dithyrambic, or Bacchic hymns, and in the Nomes, which were also a species of hymns, to Apollo, and other deities, all the means of imitation were employed together, and throughout: in Tragedy and Comedy, separately; some of them in one part of the drama, and some in another. (See Part II. Sect. 1.) In the choral part, however, at least, if no where else, all, melody, rhythm and words, must probably have been used at once, as in the hymns.. And such are the differences of these arts with respect to the means by which they imitate.

III.

But, as the objects of imitation are the actions of men, and these men must of necessity be either good or bad, (for on this does character principally depend; the manners being, in all men, most strongly marked by virtue and vice,) it follows, that we can only men, either as better than they actually are, or worse, or exactly as they are: just as, in Painting, the pictures of Polygnotus were above the common level of nature; those of Pauson, below it; those of Dionysius, faithful likenesses.

Now it is evident that each of the imitations above-mentioned will admit of these differences, and become a different kind of imitation, as it imitates objects that differ in this respect. This may be the case with Dancing; with the Music of the flute, and of the lyre; and, also, with the Poetry which employs words, or verse only, without melody, or rhythm: thus, Homer has drawn men superior to what they areSuperior, that is, in courage, strength, wisdom, prudence, &c. in any laudable, useful, or admirable quality, whether such as we denominate moral, or not. If superiority of moral character only were meant, the assertion would be false. It is necessary to remember here, the wide sense in which the antients used the terms virtue, vice—good, bad, &c. See NOTE 19.—The difference between moral, and poetical, perfection of character, is well explained by Dr. Beattie, Essay on Poetry, &c. Part 1. ch. 4.—The heroes of Homer, as he well observes, are "finer animals" than we are; (p. 69.) not better men.; Cleophon, as they are; Hegemon the Thasian, the inventor of parodies, and Nicocharis, the author of the Deliad, worse than they are.

So, again, with respect to Dithyrambics, and Nomes: in these, too, the imitation may be as different as that of the Persians, by Timotheus, and the Cyclops, by Philoxenus. Tragedy, also, and Comedy, are distinguished in the same manner; the aim of Comedy being, to exhibit men worse than we find them, that of Tragedy, better.

IV.

There remains the third difference—that of the manner in which each of these objects may be imitated. For the Poet, imitating the same object, and by the same means, may do it either in NARRATION—and that, again, either personating other characters, as HOMER does, or, in his own person throughout, without change:—or, he may imitate by representing all his characters as real, and employed in the very ACTION itself.

These, then, are the three differences by which, as I said in the beginning, all imitation is distinguished; those of the means, the object, and the manner: so that Sophocles is, in one respect, an imitator of the same kind with Homer, as elevated characters are the objects of both; in another respect, of the same kind with Aristophanes, as both imitate in the way of action; whence, according to some, the application of the term DRAMA [i. e. action] to such Poems.

Upon this it is that the Dorians ground their claim to the invention both of Tragedy and Comedy. For Comedy is claimed by the Megarians; both by those of Greece, who contend that it took its rise in their popular governmentWho were all of Doric origin.; and by those of Sicily, among whom the poet Epicharmus flourished long before Chionides and Magnes: and Tragedy, also, is claimed by some of the Dorians of Peloponnesus.—In support of these claims they argue from the words themselves. They allege, that the Doric word for a village is COME, the Attic, DEMOS; and that Comedians were so called, not from COMAZEIN—to revel—but from their strolling about the COMAI, or villages, before they were tolerated in the cityA derivation very honourable to itinerant players.. They say, farther, that, to do, or act, they express by the word DRAN; the Athenians by PRATTEIN.

And thus much as to the differences of imitation—how many, and what, they are.

V.

POETRY, in general, seems to have derived its origin from two causes, each of them natural.

1. TO IMITATE is instinctive in man from his infancy. By this he is distinguished from other animals, that he is, of all, the most imitative, and through this instinct receives his earliest education. All men, likewise, naturally receive pleasure from imitation.

This is evident from what we experience in viewing the works of imitative art; for in them, we contemplate with pleasure, and with the more pleasure, the more exactly they are imitated, such objects as, if real, we could not see without pain; as, the figures of the meanest and most disgusting animals, dead bodies, and the like.

And the reason of this is, that to learn, is a natural pleasure, not confined to philosophers, but common to all men; with this difference only, that the multitude partake of it in a more transient and compendious manner. Hence the pleasure they receive from a picture: in viewing it they learnSee Dr. Beattie's Essay on Poetry, &c. Part I. ch. 6., they infer, they discover, what every object is—that this, for instance, is such a particular man, &c.This is explained in NOTE 22. For if we suppose the object represented to be something which the spectator had never seen, his pleasure, in that case, will not arise from the imitation, but from the workmanship, the colours, or some such cause.

Imitation, then, being thus natural to us, and, 2ndly, MELODY and RHYTHM being also natural, (for as to metre, it is plainly a species of rhythm"RHYTHM differs from METRE, in as much as RHYTHM is proportion, applied to any motion whatever; METRE is proportion, applied to the motion of WORDS SPOKEN. Thus, in the drumming of a march, or the dancing of a hornpipe, there is rhythm, though no metre; in Dryden's celebrated ode there is METRE as well as RHYTHM, because the Poet with the rhythm has associated certain words. And hence it follows, that, though ALL METRE is RHYTHM, yet ALL RHYTHM is NOT METRE." Harris's Philol. Inquiries, p. 67. where it is also observed, very truly, that "no English word expresses rhythmus better than the word, time." P. 69. note.,) those persons, in whom, originally, these propensities were the strongest, were naturally led to rude and extemporaneous attempts, which, gradually improved, gave birth to POETRY.

VI.

But this Poetry, following the different characters of its authors, naturally divided itself into two different kinds. They who were of a grave and lofty spirit, chose, for their imitation, the actions and the adventures of elevated characters: while Poets of a lighter turn, represented those of the vitious and contemptible. And these composed, originally, Satires; as the former did Hymns and Encomia.

Of the lighter kind, we have no Poem anterior to the time of HOMER, though many such, in all probability, there were; but, from his time, we have; as, his Margites, and others of the same species, in which the Iambic was introduced as the most proper measure; and hence, indeed, the name of Iambic, because it was the measure in which they used to IAMBIZE, [i. e. to satirize,] each other.

And thus these old Poets were divided into two classes—those who used the heroic, and those who used the iambic, versei. e. hexameters, composed of dactyls and spondees, which were called heroic feet..

And as, in the serious kind, HOMER alone may be said to deserve the name of Poet, not only on account of his other excellences, but also of the dramatic spirit of his imitations; so was he likewise the first who suggested the idea of Comedy, by substituting ridicule for invective, and giving that ridicule a dramatic cast: for his MARGITES bears the same analogy to Comedy, as his ILIAD and ODYSSEY to Tragedy. But when Tragedy and Comedy, had once made their appearance, succeeding Poets, according to the turn of their genius, attached themselves to the one, or the other, of these new species: the lighter sort, instead of Iambic, became Comic Poets; the graver, Tragic, instead of Heroic: and that, on account of the superior dignity and higher estimation of these latter forms of Poetry.

Whether Tragedy has now, with respect to its constituent partsi. e. the fable, the manners, the sentiments, &c. See Part II. Sect. 2., received the utmost improvement of which it is capableSee Part III. Sect. 3., considered both in itself, and relatively to the theatre, is a question that belongs not to this place.

VII.

Both Tragedy, then, and Comedy, having originated in a rude and unpremeditated manner—the first from the Dithyrambic hymns, the other from those Phallic songsOf the licentious and obscene RELIGIOUS CEREMONY here alluded to, the reader, who has any curiosity about it, may find some account in Potter's Antiquities of Greece, vol. i. p. 383., which, in many cities, remain still in use—each advanced gradually towards perfection, by such successive improvements as were most obvious.

TRAGEDY, after various changes, reposed at length in the completion of its proper form. ÆSCHYLUS first added a second actorThe first who introduced a single actor, or speaker, between those choral songs which originally, we are told, formed the whole of Tragedy, i. e. according to the most usual derivation of the word, the goat-singing, was THESPIS, whom Aristotle passes over in silence. The story so often told, of him and his theatrical waggon, it cannot be necessary to repeat. By introducing a second actor, Æschylus, in fact, introduced the dialogue; though it seems probable that the single speaker of Thespis told his tale, in part, at least, dramatically. See Brumoy's Disc. sur l'Orig. de la Trag. Sect. iii. Theatre des Grecs, Tome i.; he also abridged the CHORUS, and made the dialogue the principal part of Tragedy. SOPHOCLES increased the number of actors to three, and added the decoration of painted scenery. It was also late before Tragedy threw aside the short and simple fable, and ludicrous language, of its satyric originalSatyric, from the share which those fantastic beings called Satyrs, the companions and play-fellows of Bacchus, had in the earliest Tragedy, of which they formed the chorus. Joking, and dancing, were essential attributes of these rustic semi-deities. Hence, the ludicrous language," and the "dancing genius" of the old Tragedy, to which the TROCHAIC or running metre here spoken of was peculiarly adapted; being no other than this: "Jolly mortals, fill your glasses, noble deeds are done by wine.", and attained its proper magnitude and dignity. The Iambic measure was then first adopted: for, originally, the Trochaic tetrameter was made use of, as better suited to the satyric and saltatorial geniusThe reader will not confound satyric with satiric; nor the Greek satyric drama, with the satire of Roman origin. See Harris's Phil. Arrang. p. 460. note. Or, Dacier's Preface to Horace's Satires, The two words are of different derivations. of the Poem at that time; but when the dialogue was formed, nature itself pointed out the proper metre. For the iambic is, of all metres, the most colloquial; as appears evidently from this fact, that our common conversation frequently falls into iambic verse; seldom into hexameter, and only when we depart from the usual melody of speech.

Episodes were, also, multiplied, and every other part of the drama successively improved and polished.

But of this enough: to enter into a minute detail would, perhaps, be a task of some length.

VIII.

COMEDY, as was said before, is an imitation of bad characters: bad, not with respect to every sort of vice, but to the RIDICULOUS only, as being a species of turpitude or deformity; since it may be defined to be a fault or deformity of such a sort as is neither painful nor destructive. A ridiculous face, for example, is something ugly and distorted, but not so as to cause pain.

The successive improvements of Tragedy, and the respective authors of them, have not escaped our knowledge; but those of Comedy, from the little attention that was paid to it in its origin, remain in obscurity. For it was not till late, that Comedy was authorized by the magistrate, and carried on at the public expence: it was, at first, a private and voluntary exhibition. From the time, indeed, when it began to acquire some degree of form, its Poets have been recorded; but who first introduced masks, or prologues, or augmented the number of actors—these, and other particulars of the same kind, are unknown.

Epicharmus and Phormis were the first who invented comic fables. This improvement, therefore, is of Sicilian origin. But, of Athenian Poets, Crates was the first who abandoned the Iambic formIambic, i. e. satirical, and personally so, like the old Iambi, invectives, or lampoons, of which Aristotle speaks above, Sect. 6, and from which the Iambic metre, which is not here alluded to, took its name. of comedy, and made use of invented and general stories, or fables.

IX.

Epic Poetry agrees so far with Tragic, as it is an imitation of great characters and actions, by means of words: but in this it differs, that it makes use of only one kind of metre throughout; and that it is narrative. It also differs in length: for Tragedy endeavours, as far as possible, to confine its action within the limits of a single revolution of the sun, or nearly so; but the time of Epic action is indefinite. This, however, at first, was equally the case with Tragedy itself.

Of their constituent parts, some are common to both, some peculiar to Tragedy. He, therefore, who is a judge of the beauties and defects of Tragedy, is, of course, equally a judge with respect to those of Epic Poetry: for all the parts of the Epic poem are to be found in Tragedy; not all those of Tragedy, in the Epic poem.

I.

OF the species of Poetry which imitates in hexameters, and of Comedy, we shall speak hereafter. Let us now consider TRAGEDY; collecting, first, from what has been already said, its true and essential definition.

Tragedy, then, is an imitation of some action that is important, entire, and of a proper magnitude—by language, embellished and rendered pleasurable, but by different means in different parts—in the way, not of narration, but of action—effecting through pity and terror, the correction and refinement of such passions.

By pleasurable language, I mean a language that has the embellishments of rhythm, melody, and metre. And I add, by different means in different parts, because in some parts metre alone is employed, in others, melody.

II.

Now as Tragedy imitates by acting, the DECORATIONDecoration—literally, the decoration of the spectacle, or sight. In other places it is called the spectacle, or sight only—ὄψις. It comprehends scenery, dresses—the whole visible apparatus of the theatre. I do not know any single English word, that answers fully to the Greek word., in the first place, must necessarily be one of its parts: then the MELOPOEIA, (MUSICMelopœia—literally, the making, or the composition, of the music; as we use Epopœia, or according to the French termination, which we have naturalized, Epopee, to signify epic poetry, or epic-making, in general. I might have rendered it, at once, the MUSIC; but that it would have appeared ridiculous to observe, of a word so familiar to us, even that "its meaning is obvious.",) and the DICTION; for these last include the means of tragic imitation. By dictionNot the versification, but merely the metrical expression—the language of the verse. This is plain from the clearer definition, p. 78., I mean the metrical composition. The meaning of Melopœia is obvious to every one.

Again—Tragedy being an imitation of an action, and the persons employed in that action being necessarily characterized by their manners and their sentiments, since it is from these that actions themselves derive their character, it follows, that there must also be, MANNERS, and SENTIMENTS, as the two causes of actions, and, consequently, of the happiness, or unhappiness, of all men. The imitation of the action is the FABLE: for by fable I now mean the contexture of incidents, or the plot. By manners, I mean, whatever marks the characters of the persons. By sentimentsFor a fuller account of this part of Tragedy, see Sect. 22., whatever they say, whether proving anything, or delivering a general sentiment, &c.

Hence, all Tragedy must necessarily contain six parts, which, together, constitute its peculiar character, or quality: FABLE, MANNERS, DICTION, SENTIMENTS, DECORATION, and MUSIC.

Of these parts, two relate to the means, one to the manner, and three to the object, of imitationMusic, and diction, to the means, which are words, melody, and rhythm: decoration, to the manner of imitating—i. e. by representation and action: fable, manners, and sentiments, to the objects of imitation—i. e. men, and their actions, characters, &c.. And these are all. These specific partsi. e. such as are essential to Tragedy, and, together, constitute its species., if we may so call them, have been employed by most Poets, and are all to be found in [almost] every Tragedy.

III.

But of all these parts the most important is the combination of incidents, or, the FABLE. Because Tragedy is an imitation, not of men, but of actions—of life, of happiness and unhappiness: for happiness consists in action, and the supreme good itself, the very end of life, is action of a certain kindi. e. virtuous action.—The doctrine of Aristotle was, that the greatest happiness, the summum bonum or end of life, consisted in virtuous energies and actions; not in virtue, considered merely as an internal habit, disposition, or quality, of mind.—not quality. Now the manners of men constitute only their quality or charactersSee the Diss. On the Provinces of the Drama, ch. i. [Dr. Hurd's Hor. vol. ii.]; but it is by their actions that they are happy, or the contrary. Tragedy, therefore, does not imitate action, for the sake of imitating manners, but in the imitation of action, that of manners is of course involved. So that the action and the fable are the end of Tragedy; and in every thing the end is of principal importance.

Again—Tragedy cannot subsist without action; without manners it may: the Tragedies of most modern Poets have this defect; a defect common, indeed, among Poets in general. As among Painters also, this is the case with ZEUXIS, compared with POLYGNOTUS: the latter excels in the expression of the manners; there is no such expression in the pictures of ZEUXIS.

Farther—suppose any one to string together a number of speeches in which the manners are strongly marked, the language and the sentiments well turned; this will not be sufficient to produce the proper effect of Tragedy: that end will much rather be answered by a piece, defective in each of those particulars, but furnished with a proper fable and contexture of incidents. Just as in Painting, the most brilliant colours, spread at random and without design, will give far less pleasure than the simplest outline of a figure.

Add to this, that those parts of Tragedy, by means of which it becomes most interesting and affecting, are parts of the fable; I mean, revolutions, and discoveriesThese are explained afterwards, Sect. 9..

As a farther proof, adventurers in Tragic writing are sooner able to arrive at excellence in the language, and the manners, than in the construction of a plot; as appears from almost all our earlier Poets.

The fable, then, is the principal part, the soul, as it were, of Tragedy; and the MANNERS are next in rank: Tragedy being an imitation of an action, and through that, principally, of the agents.

In the third place stand the SENTIMENTS. To this part it belongs, to say such things as are true and proper; which, in the dialogue, depends on the Political and Rhetorical arts: for, the antients made their characters speak in the style of political and popular eloquenceThe reader, here, must not think of our modern politics. The political, or civil art, or science, was, in Aristotle's view, of wide extent, and high importance. It comprehended ethics, and eloquence, or the art of public speaking; every thing, in short, that concerned the well-being of a state. See NOTE 57.; but now, the rhetorical manner prevails.

The manners are, whatever manifests the disposition of the speaker. There are speeches, therefore, which are without manners, or character; as not containing any thing by which the propensities or aversions of the person who delivers them can be known.

The sentiments comprehend whatever is said; whether proving any thing, affirmatively, or negatively, or expressing some general reflection, &c.The reader will find a useful comment on this, and the two preceding sections, in the Philolog. Inquiries, Part II. ch. vi. viii. ix. xi.

Fourth, in order, is the DICTION; that is, as I have already said, the expression of the sentiments by words; the power and effect of which is the same, whether in verse or prose.

Of the remaining two parts, the MUSIC stands next; of all the pleasurable accompaniments and embellishments of Tragedy, the most delightful.

The DECORATION has, also, a great effect, but, of all the parts, is most foreign to the art. For the power of Tragedy is felt without representation, and actors; and the beauty of the decorations depends more on the art of the mechanic, than on that of the Poet.

IV.

These things being thus adjusted, let us go on to examine in what manner the FABLE should be constructed; since this is the first, and most important part of Tragedy.

Now we have defined Tragedy to be an imitation of an action that is complete and entire; and that has also a certain magnitude; for a thing may be entire, and a whole, and yet not be of any magnitudei. e.—not be large. Magnitude is here used in its proper and relative sense, of greatness; and with reference to some standard..

1. By entire, I mean that which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning, is that which does not, necessarily, suppose any thing before it, but which requires something to follow it. An end, on the contrary, is that which supposes something to precede it, either necessarily, or probably; but which nothing is required to follow. A middle, is that which both supposes something to precede, and requires something to follow. The Poet, therefore, who would construct his fable properly, is not at liberty to begin, or end, where he pleases, but must conform to these definitions.

2. Again: whatever is beautiful, whether it be an animal, or any other thing composed of different parts, must not only have those parts arranged in a certain manner, but must also be of a certain magnitude; for beauty consists in magnitude and orderThe unity here spoken of, it must be remembered, is not absolute and simple, but relative and compound, unity; a unity consisting of different parts, the relation of which to each other, and to the whole, is easily perceived at one view. On this depends the perception of beauty in form. In objects too extended, you may be said to have parts, but no whole: in very minute objects a whole, but no parts.. Hence it is that no very minute animal can be beautiful; the eye comprehends the whole too instantaneously to distinguish and compare the parts:—neither, on the contrary, can one of a prodigious size be beautiful; because, as all its parts cannot be seen at once, the whole, the unity of object, is lost to the spectator; for example, if he were surveying an animal of many miles in length. As, therefore, in animals, and other objects, a certain magnitude is requisite, but that magnitude must be such as to present a whole easily comprehended by the eye; so, in the fable, a certain length is requisite, but that length must be such as to present a whole easily comprehended by the memory.

With respect to the measure of this length—if referred to actual representation in the dramatic contests, it is a matter foreign to the art itself: for if a hundred Tragedies were to be exhibited in concurrence, the length of each performance must be regulated by the hour glass; a practice of which, it is said, there have formerly been instances. But, if we determine this measure by the nature of the thing itself, the more extensive the fable, consistently with the clear and easy comprehension of the whole, the more beautiful will it be, with respect to magnitude. In general, we may say, that an action is sufficiently extended, when it is long enough to admit of a change of fortune, from happy to unhappy, or the reverse, brought about by a succession, necessary or probable, of well-connected incidents.

V.

A fable is not one, as some conceive it to be, merely because the hero of it is one. For numberless events happen to one man, many of which are such as cannot be connected into one event: and so, likewise, there are many actions of one man which cannot be connected into any one action. Hence appears the mistake of all those Poets who have composed HERCULEIDS, THESEIDS, and other Poems of that kind. They conclude that because Hercules was one, so also must be the fable of which he is the subject.

But HOMER, among his many other excellences, seems also to have been perfectly aware of this mistake, either from art or genius. For when he composed his ODYSSEY, he did not introduce all the events of his hero's life,—such, for instance, as the wound he received upon ParnassusThis incident is, however, related, and at considerable length, in the xixth book of the Odyssey, (v. 563 of Pope's translation) but digressively, and incidentally; it made no essential part of his general plan. See Sect. 17.—his feigned madness when the Grecian army was assembling, &c."A ridiculous story." To avoid going to the Trojan war, Ulysses pretended to be mad; and, to prove his insanity, went to plough with an ox and a horse; but Palamedes, in order to detect him, laid his infant son, Telemachus, in the way of the plough; upon which Ulysses immediately stopped, and thereby proved himself to be in his right senses." (Hyginus, &c.)—events, not connected, either by necessary or probable consequence, with each other; but he comprehended those only which have relation to one action; for such we call that of the Odyssey. And in the same manner he composed his IliadOr, according to a different, and perhaps preferable, reading, thus: "but he planned his Odyssey, as he also did his Iliad, upon an action that is one in the sense here explained." See the NOTE..

As, therefore, in other mimetic arts, one imitation is an imitation of one thingi. e. one imitative work. Thus one picture represents, or should represent, but one thing; a single object, or a single action, &c. So, every Poem, (the Orlando Furioso as much as the Iliad,) is one imitation—one imitative work, and should imitate one action, in Aristotle's sense of unity, like the Poems of Homer; not a number of actions unconnected with each other, or connected merely by their common relation to one person, as in the Theseids, &c. or to one time, as in the Poem of Ariosto; or, by their resemblance merely, as in the Metamorphoses of Ovid., so here, the fable, being an imitation of an action, should be an imitation of an action that is one, and entire; the parts of it being so connected, that if any one of them be either transposed or taken away, the whole will be destroyed, or changed: for whatever may be either retained, or omitted, without making any sensible difference, is not, properly, a part"The painter will not enquire what things may be admitted without much censure. He will not think it enough to shew that they may be there, he will shew that they must be there; that their absence would render his picture maimed and defective. They should make a part of that whole which would be imperfect without them." Sir J. Reynolds, Disc. on Painting, p. 106..

VI.

It appears, farther, from what has been said, that it is not the Poet's province to relate such things as have actually happened, but such as might have happened-such as are possible, according either to probable, or necessary, consequence.

For it is not by writing in verse, or prose, that the Historian and the Poet are distinguished: the work of Herodotus might be versified; but it would still be a species of history, no less with metre, than without. They are distinguished by this, that the one relates what has been, the other what might be. On this account, Poetry is a more philosophical, and a more excellent thing, than History: for Poetry is chiefly conversant about general truth; History, about particular. In what manner, for example, any person of a certain character would speak, or act, probably, or necessarily-this is general; and this is the object of Poetry, even while it makes use of particular names. But, what Alcibiades did, or what happened to him-this is particular truth.

With respect to Comedy, this is now become obvious; for here, the Poet, when he has formed his plot of probable incidents, gives to his characters whatever names he pleases; and is not, like the Iambic Poets, particular, and personal.

Tragedy, indeed, retains the use of real names; and the reason is, that, what we are disposed to believe, we must think possible: now what has never actually happened, we are not apt to regard as possible; but what has been is unquestionably so, or it could not have been at all"or it could not, &c."-The philosopher might safely have trusted to any reader to find this proof of the possibility of what has actually happened. A modern writer would certainly have omitted this; and I wish Aristotle had. But it is my business to say whatever he has said.. There are, however, some Tragedies in which one or two of the names are historical, and the rest feigned: there are even some, in which none of the names are historical; such is AGATHO's Tragedy called The Flower; for in that, all is invention, both incidents, and names; and yet it pleases. It is by no means, therefore, essential, that a Poet should confine himself to the known and established subjects of Tragedy. Such a restraint would, indeed, be ridiculous; since even those subjects that are known, are known, comparatively, but to few, and yet are interesting to all.

From all this it is manifest, that a Poet should be a Poet, or maker, of fables, rather than of verses; since it is imitation that constitutes the Poet, and of this imitation actions are the object: nor is he the less a Poet, though the incidents of his fable should chance to be such as have actually happened; for nothing hinders, but that some true events may possess that probabilityIt may appear to the reader to be a strange observation, that "Some true events MAY be probable." But he will recollect what sort of events, and what sort of probability, Aristotle here speaks of: i. e. of extraordinary events, such as Poetry requires, and of that more strict and perfect probability, that closer connection and visible dependence of circumstances, which are always required from the Poet, though, in such events, not often to be found in fact and real life, and therefore not expected from the Historian. See the quotation from Diderot, NOTE 156., the invention of which entitles him to the name of Poet.

VII.

Of simple fables or actions, the episodic are the worst. I call that an episodic fable, the episodesEpisodes - episodic circumstances in the second sense explained NOTE 37: by no means in the modern and epic sense, of a digression, incidental narrative, &c. of which follow each other without any probable or necessary connection; a fault into which bad Poets are betrayed by their want of skill, and good Poets by the players: for in order to accommodate their pieces to the purposes of rival performers in the dramatic contests, they spin out the action beyond their powers, and are thus, frequently, forced to break the connection and continuity of its parts.

But Tragedy is an imitation, not only of a complete action, but also of an action exciting terror and pity. Now that purpose is best answered by such events as are not only unexpected, but unexpected consequences of each other: for, by this means, they will have more of the wonderful, than if they appeared to be the effects of chance; since we find, that, among events merely casual, those are the most wonderful and striking, which seem to imply design: as when, for instance, the statue of Mitys at Argos killed the very man who had murdered Mitys, by falling down upon him as he was surveying it; events of this kind, not having the appearance of accident. It follows then, that such fables as are formed on these principles must be the best.

VIII.

Fables are of two sorts, simple and complicated; for so also are the actions themselves of which they are imitations. An action, (having the continuity and unity prescribed,) I call simple, when its catastrophe is produced without either revolution, or discovery: complicated, when with one, or both. And these should arise from the structure of the fable itself, so as to be the natural consequences, necessary or probable, of what has preceded in the action. For there is a wide difference between incidents that follow from, and incidents that follow only after, each other.

IX.

A REVOLUTION, is a change, (such as has already been mentionedSect. 7.-"events that are unexpected consequences of each other.",) into the reverse of what is expected from the circumstances of the action; and that, produced, as we have said, by probable, or necessary consequence.

Thus, in the OedipusThe Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophocles., the messenger, meaning to make Oedipus happy, and to relieve him from the dread he was under with respect to his mother, by making known to him his real birth, produces an effect directly contrary to his intention. Thus, also, in the Tragedy of Lynceus: Lynceus is led to suffer death, Danaus follows to inflict it; but the event, resulting from the course of the incidents, is, that Danaus is killed, and Lynceus saved.

A DISCOVERY, as, indeed, the word implies, is a change from unknown to known, happening between those characters whose happiness, or unhappiness, forms the catastrophe of the drama, and terminating in friendship or enmitySuch is the discovery of Joseph, by his brethren, Gen. xlv. the most beautiful and affecting example that can be given..

The best sort of Discovery is that which is accompanied by a Revolution, as in the Oedipus.

There are, also, other Discoveries; for inanimate things, of any kind, may be recognized in the same mannerI do not understand Aristotle to be here speaking of such discoveries of "inanimate things" (rings, bracelets, &c.) as are the means of bringing about the true discovery-that of the persons. For, in what follows, it is implied that these "other sorts of discovery" produce neither terror nor pity, neither happiness nor unhappiness; which can by no means be said of such discoveries as are instrumental to the personal discovery, and, through that, to the catastrophe of the piece. Of these, he treats afterwards, Sect. 16.-Dacier, I think, has mistaken this.; and we may discover whether such a particular thing was, or was not, done by such a person:-but the Discovery most appropriated to the fable, and the action, is that above defined; because such Discoveries, and Revolutions, must excite either pity or terror; and Tragedy we have defined to be an imitation of pitiable and terrible actions: and because, also, by them the event, happy, or unhappy, is produced.

Now Discoveries, being relative things, are sometimes of one of the persons only, the other being already known; and sometimes they are reciprocal: thus, Iphigenia is discovered to Orestes by the letter which she charges him to deliver, and Orestes is obliged, by other means, to make himself known to herSee Mr. Potter's Euripides:-Iphigenia in Tauris, v. 799, &c..

These then are two parts of the fable-Revolution and Discovery. There is a third, which we denominate, DISASTERS. The two former have been explained. Disasters comprehend all painful or destructive actions; the exhibition of death, bodily anguish, wounds, and every thing of that kind.

X.

The parts of Tragedy which are necessary to constitute its quality, have been already enumerated. Its parts of quantity-the distinct parts into which it is divided-are these: PROLOGUE, EPISODE, EXODE, and CHORUS; which last is also divided into the PARODE, and the STASIMON. These are common to all Tragedies. The COMMOI are found in some only.

The ProloguePrologue-This may be compared to our first act. See NOTE 40. is all that part of a Tragedy which precedes the Parode of the Chorus.-The EpisodeEpisode-i. e. a part introduced, inserted, &c. as all the dialogue was, originally, between the choral odes. See Part I. Sect. 7. Note 2., all that part which is included between entire Choral Odes. The ExodeExode-i. e. the going out, or exit: the concluding act, as we should term it. The Greek tragedies never finished with a choral ode., that part which has no Choral Ode after it.

Of the Choral part, the ParodeParode-i.e. entry of the Chorus upon the stage: and hence the term was applied to what they first sung, upon their entry. See the NOTE. is the first speech of the whole Chorus: the StasimonStasimon-i. e. stable: because, as it is explained, these odes were sung by the choral troop when fixed on the stage, and at rest: whereas the Parode is said to have been sung, as they came on. Hence, the trochaic and anapaestic measures, being lively and full of motion, were adapted to the Parode, but not to the Stasimon., includes all those Choral Odes that are without Anapests and Trochees.

The CommosFrom a verb signifying to beat or strike; alluding to the gestures of violent grief., is a general lamentation of the Chorus and the Actors together.

Such are the separate parts into which Tragedy is divided. Its parts of quality were before explained.

XI.

The order of the subject leads us to consider, in the next place, what the Poet should aim at, and what avoid, in the construction of his fable; and by what means the purpose of Tragedy may be best effected.

Now since it is requisite to the perfection of a Tragedy that its plot should be of the complicated, not of the simple kind, and that it should imitate such actions as excite terror and pity, (this being the peculiar property of the Tragic imitation,) it follows evidently, in the first place, that the change from prosperity to adversity should not be represented as happening to a virtuous characteri. e. eminently virtuous, or good: for so he expresses it at the end of this section.; for this raises disgust, rather than terror, or compassion. Neither should the contrary change, from adversity to prosperity, be exhibited in a vitious character: this, of all plans, is the most opposite to the genius of Tragedy, having no one property that it ought to have; for it is neither gratifying in a moral view, nor affecting, nor terrible. Nor, again, should the fall of a very bad man from prosperous to adverse fortune be represented: because, though such a subject may be pleasing from its moral tendency, it will produce neither pity nor terror. For our pity is excited by misfortunes undeservedly suffered, and our terror, by some resemblance between the sufferer and ourselves. Neither of these effects will, therefore, be produced by such an event.

There remains, then, for our choice, the character between these extremes; that of a person neither eminently virtuous or just, nor yet, involved in misfortune by deliberate vice, or villainy; but by some error of human frailty: and this person should, also, be some one of high fame and flourishing prosperity. For example, OEDIPUS, THYESTES, or other illustrious men of such families.

XII.

Hence it appears, that, to be well constructed, a fable, contrary to the opinion of some, should be single rather than doubleWhat is here meant by a single fable, will appear presently from the account of its opposite-the double fable. It must not be confounded with the simple fable, though, in the original, both are expressed by the same word. The simple fable is only a fable without revolution, or discovery. Sect. 8.; that the change of fortune should not be from adverse to prosperous, but the reverse; and that it should be the consequence, not of vice, but of some great frailty, in a character such as has been described, or better rather than worse.

These principles are confirmed by experience; for Poets, formerly, admitted almost any story into the number of Tragic subjects; but now, the subjects of the best Tragedies are confined to a few families-to Alcmaeon, Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Telephus, and others, the sufferers, or the authors, of some terrible calamity.

The most perfect Tragedy, then, according to the principles of the art, is of this construction. Whence appears the mistake of those critics who censure EURIPIDES for this practice in his Tragedies, many of which terminate unhappily; for this, as we have shewn, is right. And, as the strongest proof of it, we find that upon the stage, and in the dramatic contests, such Tragedies, if they succeed, have always the most Tragic effect: and EURIPIDES, though, in other respects, faulty in the conduct of his subjects, seems clearly to be the most Tragic of all Poets.

I place in the second rank, that kind of fable to which some assign the firstThat weakness which cannot bear strong emotions, even from fictitious distress. I have known those who could not look at that admirable picture, the Ugolino of Sir Jos. Reynolds. To some minds, every thing, that is not chearful, is shocking. But, might not the preference here attributed to weakness, be attributed to better causes-the gratification of philanthropy, the love of justice, order, &c.?-the same causes which, just before, induced Aristotle himself to condemn, as shocking, and disgusting, those fables which involve the virtuous in calamity.; that which is of a double construction, like the Odyssey, and also ends in two opposite events, to the good, and to the bad, characters. That this passes for the best, is owing to the weakness of the spectators, to whose wishes the Poets accommodate their productions. This kind of pleasure, however, is not the proper pleasure of Tragedy, but belongs rather to Comedy; for there, if even the bitterest enemies, like Orestes and Aegisthus, are introduced, they quit the scene at last in perfect friendship, and no blood is shed on either side.

XIII.

Terror and pity may be raised by the decoration-the mere spectacleSee a very pleasant paper of Addison's on this subject, Spectator N° 42. We know the effect of the skull and black hangings in the Fair Penitent, the scaffold in Venice Preserved, the tomb in Romeo and Juliet, &c.; but they may also arise from the circumstances of the action itself; which is far preferable, and shews a superior Poet. For the fable should be so constructed, that, without the assistance of the sight, its incidents may excite horror and commiseration in those, who hear them only: an effect, which every one, who hears the fable of the Oedipus, must experience. But, to produce this effect by means of the decoration, discovers want of art in the Poet; who must also be supplied, by the public, with an expensive apparatusAmong other public offices, which the wealthier citizens of Athens were, by turns, called upon to discharge, was that of the Choragi, who were obliged, at their own expence, to provide a chorus, dresses, and, perhaps, scenes, and the whole deco-ration of theatrical exhibitions..

As to those Poets, who make use of the decoration in order to produce, not the terrible, but the marvellous only, their purpose has nothing in common with that of Tragedy. For we are not to seek for every sort of pleasure from Tragedy, but for that only which is proper to the species.

Since, therefore, it is the business of the Tragic Poet to give that pleasure, which arises from pity and terror, through imitation, it is evident, that he ought to produce that effect by the circumstances of the action itself.

XIV.

Let us, then, see, of what kind those incidents are, which appear most terrible, or piteous.

Now, such actions must, of necessity, happen between persons who are either friends, or enemies, or indifferent to each other. If an enemy kills, or purposes to kill, an enemy, in neither case is any commiseration raised in usi. e. any of that degree of commiseration, which is requisite to the effect of the deepest tragedy, such as is the subject of this section., beyond what necessarily arises from the nature of the action itself. The case is the same, when the persons are neither friends nor enemies. But when such disasters happen between friends-when, for instance, the brother killsAristotle uses this word here, and in other parts of his works, in a wide sense, including relations, &c., or is going to kill, his brother, the son his father, the mother her son, or the reverse-these, and others of a similar kind, are the proper incidents for the Poet's choice.

The received Tragic subjects, therefore, he is not at liberty essentially to alter; Clytemnestra must die by the hand of Orestes, and Eriphyle by that of Alcmaeon: but it is his province to invent other subjects, and to make a skilful use of those which he finds already established. What I mean by a skilful use, I proceed to explain.

The atrocious action may be perpetrated knowingly and intentionallySee NOTE 102., as was usual with the earlier Poets; and as EURIPIDES, also, has represented Medea destroying her childrenSee Mr. Potter's translation of the Tragedy here alluded to..

It may, likewise, be perpetrated by those, who are ignorant, at the time, of the connection between them and the injured person, which they afterwards discover; like Oedipus, in SOPHOCLESThe murder of Laius by Oedipus, his son, is supposed to have happened a considerable time before the beginning of the action.. There, indeed, the action itself does not make a part of the drama: the Alcmaeon of Astydamas, and Telegonus in the Ulysses Wounded, furnish instances within the TragedyOf these two dramas nothing more is known than the little that Aristotle here tells us. In the first, the Poet adhered so far to history, as to make Alcmaeon kill his mother Eriphyle, but with the improvement, (according to Aristotle's idea,) of making him do it ignorantly. The story of Telegonus is, that he was a son of Ulysses by Circe; was sent by her in quest of his father, whom he wounded, without knowing him, in a skirmish relative to some sheep, that he attempted to carry off from the island of Ithaca. It is somewhat singular, that the wound is said to have been given with a kind of Otaheite spear, headed with a sharp fish-bone. See Pope's Odyssey XI. 167. and the note..

There is yet a third way, where a person upon the point of perpetrating, through ignorance, some dreadful deed, is prevented by a sudden discoveryAs in the Fatal Curiosity of Lillo..

Beside these, there is no other proper way. For the action must of necessity be either done, or not done, and that, either with knowledge, or without: but of all these waysThere is here much embarrassment and confusion in the original. See NOTE 105., that of being ready to execute, knowingly, and yet not executing, is the worst; for this is, at the same time, shocking, and yet not Tragic, because it exhibits no disastrous event. It is, therefore, never, or very rarely, made use of. The attempt of Haemon to kill Creon, in the AntigoneOf Sophocles. See Franklin's, or Brumoy's, translation., is an example.

Next to this, is the actual execution of the purposeThe first of the three proper and admissible ways that were enumerated; that of Macbeth, &c..

To execute, through ignorance, and afterwards to discover, is better: for thus, the shocking atrociousness is avoided, and, at the same time, the discovery is striking.

But the best of all these ways, is the last. Thus, in the Tragedy of Cresphontes, Merope, in the very act of putting her son to death, discovers him, and is prevented. In the IphigeniaThe Iphigenia in Tauris of Euripides., the sister, in the same manner, discovers her brother; and in the HelleOf this Tragedy nothing farther is known., the son discovers his mother, at the instant when he was going to betray her.

On this account it is, that the subjects of Tragedy, as before remarked, are confined to a small number of families. For it was not to art, but to fortune, that Poets applied themselves, to find incidents of this nature. Hence the necessity of having recourse to those families, in which such calamities have happened.

Of the PLOT, or FABLE, and its requisites, enough has now been said.

XV.

With respect to the MANNERS, four things are to be attended to by the Poet.

First, and principally, they should be good. Now manners, or character, belong, as we have said before, to any speech or action that manifests a certain disposition; and they are bad, or good, as the disposition manifested is bad, or good. This goodness of manners may be found in persons of every description: the manners of a woman, or of a slave, may be good; though, in general, women are, perhaps, rather bad, than good, and slaves, altogether badThe manners must be drawn as good as may be, consistently with the observance of propriety, with respect to the general character of different sexes, ages, conditions, &c. It might have been objected-"You say, the character must be good. But suppose the Poet has to represent, for instance, a slave? the character of slaves in general is notoriously bad." The answer is,-any thing may be good in its kind..

The second requisite of the manners, is propriety. There is a manly character of bravery and fierceness, which cannot, with propriety, be given to a woman.

The third requisite is resemblance; for this is a different thing from their being good, and proper, as above describedThat is, the manners may be both good, and proper or becoming; and yet not like. For example; should a Poet draw Medea, gentle, patient, &c. the manners would be both good, and becoming, but not like-not conformable to the historical or traditional character of the individual. The portrait would be defective..

The fourth, is uniformity; for even though the model of the Poet's imitation be some person of ununiform manners, still that person must be represented as uniformly ununiform.

We have an example of manners unnecessarily bad, in the character of Menelaus in the Tragedy of OrestesThe Orestes of Euripides.-Menelaus, throughout this play, as Mr. Potter has justly remarked, is "represented as an ungrateful, unfeeling, timid, designing poltron.": of improper and unbecoming manners, in the lamentation of Ulysses in Scylla, and in the speech of MenalippeThe author had here, no doubt, given an instance of the violation of resemblance in the manners, though it be wanting in all the manuscripts. Of the Scylla, nothing is known. Some fragments remain of the Menalippe the Wise, (for this was the title,) a Tragedy of Euripides, the subject of which is a curiosity. Menalippe was delivered of two children, the fruits of a stolen amour with Neptune. To conceal her shame, she hid them in her father's cow-house; where he found them, and, being less of a philosopher than his daughter, took them for a monstrous production of some of his cows, and ordered them to be burned. His daughter, in order to save them, without exposing herself, enters into a long physical argument, upon the principles of Anaxagoras, to cure her father of his unphilosophical prejudices about monsters, and portentous births, and to convince him, that these infants might be the natural children of his cows. Part of this very speech is preserved by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, [See the Ox. Eurip. vol. iii. p. 371.] and it is this masculine philosophy that is here understood to be censured as an impropriety of character. How would a Tragedy on such a subject as this, be now received by an audience?: of ununiform manners, in the Iphigenia at Aulis; for there, the Iphigenia, who supplicates for life, has no resemblance to the Iphigenia of the conclusion.

In the manners, as in the fable, the Poet should always aim, either at what is necessary, or what is probable; so that such a character shall appear to speak or act, necessarily, or probably, in such a manner, and this event, to be the necessary or probable consequence of that. Hence it is evident, that the development also of a fable should arise out of the fable itself, and not depend upon machinery, as in the MedeaOf Euripides. Medea is carried off, at the end of the Tragedy, in a chariot drawn by flying dragons. See Mr. Potter's Transl. v. 1443, &c., or in the incidents relative to the return of the Greeks, in the IliadPope's Iliad, II. 189, &c. if the text here is right: but this is doubtful. See the NOTE.. The proper application of machinery is to such circumstances, as are extraneous to the drama; such, as either happened before the time of the action, and could not, by human means, be known; or, are to happen after, and require to be foretold: for to the Gods we attribute the knowledge of all things. But nothing improbable should be admitted in the incidents of the fableBy incidents of the fable, Aristotle here plainly means, all those actions or events which are essential parts of the subject or story, whether previous to the action, and necessary to be known, or included in it, and actually represented in the drama. Compare Part III. Sect. 6.; or, if it cannot be avoided, it should, at least, be confined to such as are without the Tragedy itself; as in the Oedipus of SOPHOCLES.

Since Tragedy is an imitation of what is best, we should follow the example of skilful portrait-painters; who, while they express the peculiar lineaments, and produce a likeness, at the same time improve upon the originalThis seems intended to explain his third precept, of resemblance in the manners; to reconcile it with his first, and to shew what sort of likeness the nature of Tragic imitation requires. Compare Part I. Sect. 3.-and Part IV. Sect. 5.. And thus, too, the Poet, when he imitates the manners of passionate men, (or of indolent, or any other of a similar kind,) should draw an example approaching rather to a good, than to a hard and ferocious character: as Achilles is drawn, by AGATHO, and by HOMER.

These things the Poet should keep in view; and, besides these, whatever relates to those senses which have a necessary connection with Poetry: for here, also, he may often erri. e. To the sight, and the hearing; in other words, to actual representation. See the NOTE.. But of this enough has been said in the treatises already published.

XVI.

What is meant by a DISCOVERY, has already been explained. Its kinds are the followingThe reader, who recollects the conclusion of Sect. 14, where the author took a formal leave of the "fable and its requisites," and proceeded to the second essential part of Tragedy, the manners, will hardly be of Dacier's opinion, who contends, that this section is rightly placed. His reasons are perfectly unsatisfactory..

First, the most inartificial of all, and to which, from poverty of invention, the generality of Poets have recourse-the discovery by visible signs. Of these signs, some are natural; as, the lance with which the family of the earth-born Thebans were markedThe descendants of the original Thebans, who, according to the fabulous history, sprung from the earth when Cadmus sowed the Dragon's teeth, &c. This noble race are said to have been distinguished by the natural mark of a lance upon their bodies., or the stars which Carcinus has made use of in his Thyestes: others are adventitious; and of these, some are corporal, as scars-some external, as necklaces, bracelets, &c. or the little boat by which the discovery is made in the Tragedy of TyroSophocles wrote two Tragedies of this name, neither of them preserved.-The story of Tyro leads us to suppose, that Aristotle means the little boat, trough, or, as some render it, cradle, in which Tyro had exposed her children, on, or near, the river: the particular manner of the discovery, it would be in vain to guess.. Even these, however, may be employed with more, or less skill. The discovery of Ulysses, for example, to his nurse, by means of his scar, is very different from his discovery, by the same means, to the herdsmen. For all those discoveries, in which the sign is produced by way of proof, are inartificial. Those, which, like that in the Washing of UlyssesSee Pope's Odyssey, XIX. v. 451, &c. and the note there, on v. 461, and XXI. 226. The antients distinguished the different parts of Homer's Poems by different titles accommodated to the different subjects, or episodes; and, in referring to him, they made use of these, not of the division into books. Thus, the part of the xixth book of the Odyssey above referred to, was called The Washing. The Tale of Alcinous was another title, which will presently be mentioned: See the NOTE on that passage ., happen suddenly and casually, are better.

Secondly-Discoveries invented, at pleasure, by the Poet, and, on that account, still inartificial. For example; in the Iphigenia, Orestes, after having discovered his sister, discovers himself to her. She, indeed, is discovered by the letter; but Orestes, by [verbal proofs:] and these are such, as the Poet chuses to make him produce, not such, as arise from the circumstances of the fableSee Mr. Potter's translation of the Iphigenia in Tauris, v. 884 to 910 .. This kind of discovery, therefore, borders upon the fault of that first mentioned: for, some of the things from which those proofs are drawn, are even such, as might have been actually produced as visible signs. Another instance, is the discovery by the sound of the shuttle in the Tereus of SOPHOCLES.

Thirdly-The Discovery occasioned by memory; as, when some recollection is excited by the view of a particular object. Thus, in the Cyprians of Dicaeogenes, a discovery is produced by tears shed at the sight of a picture: and thus, in the Tale of Alcinous, Ulysses, listening to the bard, recollects, weeps, and is discoveredPope's Odyssey, VIII. 569, &c ..

Fourthly-The Discovery occasioned by reasoning or inferenceOccasioned by reasoning;-i. e. by reasoning, (or rather, inference, or conclusion,) in the person discovered. See the NOTE. It should be remembered, that Aristotle is not, in this chapter, inventing discoveries, nor enumerating all the kinds possible or practicable; but only classing and examining such, as he found in use, or could recollect, in the Tragedies and Epic Poems of his time .; such as that in the Choephorae: "The person, who is arrived, resembles me-no one resembles me but Orestes-it must be he !". And that of Polyides the Sophist, in his IphigeniaThe subject appears to have been the same, as that of the Iphigenia in Tauris of Euripides. We are to suppose, that Orestes was discovered to his sister by this natural exclamation, at the moment when he was led to the altar of Diana to be sacrificed .; for the conclusion of Orestes was natural. "It had been his sister's lot to be sacrificed, and it was now his own!". That, also, in the Tydeus of Theodectes:-"He came to find his son, and he himself must perish!". And thus, the daughters of Phineus, in the Tragedy denominated from themOf this, and the preceding Tragedy, we know nothing, but what we learn here: i. e. that in the one, a father, and in the other, the daughters of Phineus, were discovered, and, probably, saved, by those exclamations ., viewing the place to which they were led, infer their fate: "there they were to die, for there they were exposed!".

There is also a compound sort of discovery, arising from false inference in the audienceThe original here is all incurable corruption, and impenetrable obscurity. See the NOTE .; as in Ulysses the False Messenger: he asserts, that he shall know the bow, which he had not seen; the audience falsely infer, that a discovery, by that means, will follow.

But, of all Discoveries, the best is that, which arises from the action itself, and in which a striking effect is produced by probable incidents. Such is that in the Oedipus of SOPHOCLES: and that in the Iphigenia; for nothing more natural than her desire of con-veying the letter. Such discoveries are the best, because they alone are effected without the help of invented proofs, or bracelets, &c.All this is extremely perplexing. I must refer the reader to the NOTE;-but, certainly, with no promise of any thing like perfect satisfaction .. Next to these, are the discoveries by inference.

XVII.

The Poet, both when he plans, and when he writes, his Tragedy, should put himself, as much as possible, in the place of a spectator; for, by this means, seeing everything distinctly, as if present at the action, he will discern what is proper, and no inconsistencies will escape him. The fault objected to Carcinus is a proof of this. Amphiaraus had left the temple: this, the Poet, for want of conceiving the action to pass before his eyes, overlookedAs the subject of this Tragedy is not known, it seems impossible, from what is here said, even to guess how this was .; but in the representation, the audience were disgusted, and the piece condemned.

In composing, the Poet should even, as much as possible, be an actor: for, by natural sympathy, they are most persuasive and affecting, who are under the influence of actual passion. We share the agitation of those, who appear to be truly agitated-the anger of those, who appear to be truly angry. Hence it is, that Poetry demands, either great natural quickness of parts, or an enthusiasm allied to madness. By the first of these, we mould ourselves with facility to the imitation of every form; by the other, transported out of ourselves, we become what we imagine.

When the Poet invents a subject, he should, first, draw a general sketch of it, and afterwards give it the detail of its Episodes, and extend it. The general argument, for instance, of the Iphi-genia, should be considered in this way: "A virgin, on the point of being sacrificed, is imperceptibly conveyed away from the altar, and transported to another country, where it was the custom to sacrifice all strangers to Diana. Of these rites she is appointed priestess. It happens, some time after, that her brother arrives there."In Tauris. The general spirit of this precept of Aristotle is well illustrated by Diderot in the Essai sur la Poesie Dram. at the end of his Pere de Famille, p. 292, &c. "Surtout, s'imposer la loi de ne pas jeter sur le papier une seule idée de detail, "que le plan ne soit arreté," &c .. But why?-because an oracle had commanded him, for some reason exterior to the general plan. For what purpose? This, also, is exterior to the planSee the preceding section .. "He arrives, is seized, and, at the instant that he is going to be sacrificed, the discovery is made.". And this may be, either in the way of Euripides, or like that of PolyidesSee v. 301, &c. and v. 1248, &c. of Mr. Potter's translation ., by the natural reflection of Orestes, that-"it was his fate also, as it had been his sister's, to be sacrificed;" by which exclamation he is saved.

After this, the Poet, when he has given names to his characters, should proceed to the Episodes of his action; and he must take care, that these belong properly to the subject; like that of the madness of Orestes, which occasions his being taken, and his escape by means of the ablution. In dramatic Poetry the Episodes are short; but, in the Epic, they are the means of drawing out the poem to its proper length.

The general story of the ODYSSEY, for example, lies in a small compass: "A certain man is supposed to be absent from his own country for many years-he is persecuted by Neptune, deprived of all his companions, and left alone. At home, his affairs are in disorder-the suitors of his wife dissipating his wealth, and plotting the destruction of his son. Tossed by many tempests, he at length arrives, and, making himself known to some of his family, attacks his ene-mies, destroys them, and remains himself in safety.". This is the essential; the rest is Episode.

XVIII.

Every Tragedy consists of two parts-the complication, and the developmentLiterally, the tying, and untying. With the French, Noeud, and Denouement, are convenient and established terms. I hope I shall be pardoned for avoiding our awkward expressions of the intrigue and unravelling of a plot, &c. I could find no terms less exceptionable than those I have used .. The complication is often formed by incidents supposed prior to the action, and by a part, also, of those that are within the action; the rest, form the development. I call complication, all that is between the beginning of the piece, and the last part, where the change of fortune commences:-development, all between the beginning of that change, and the conclusion.

Thus, in the Lynceus of Theodectes, the events antecedent to the action, and the seizure of the child, constitute the complication; the development is from the accusation of murder to the endOf the plot of this Tragedy nothing is known. See the NOTE ..

XIX.

There are four kinds of Tragedy, deducible from so many parts, which have been mentioned. One kind is the COMPLICATED; where all depends on revolution and discovery: another is the DISASTROUSFor these two kinds, see above, Sect. 8, and 9., such as those on the subject of Ajax or Ixion: another, the MORALi. e. In which the delineation of manners or character is predominant. See the NOTE. Our language, I think, wants a word to express this sense of the Greek ηθικων, and the Latin, moratum. Mannered, has, I believe, sometimes been used in this sense; but so seldom, as to sound awkwardly ., as the Phthiotides, and the PeleusWe know nothing of the subjects here given as examples .: and, fourthly, the SIMPLE, such as the PhorcidesAeschylus wrote a Tragedy so named. It is difficult to imagine what he could make of these three curious personages, who were born old women, lived under ground, and had but one eye among them, which they used by turns; carrying it, I suppose, in a case, like a pair of spectacles. Such is the tale!. See Mr. Potter's Aeschylus, p. 49, quarto ., the Prometheus, and all those Tragedies, the scene of which is laid in the infernal regions.

It should be the Poet's aim to make himself master of all these mannersWhat follows seems rather to belong to the preceding section. But perhaps Aristotle was led to this observation here, by what he had just dropped about the unfair and cavilling criticism of the times, which probably, (as Dacier has remarked,) denied the praise of invention to those who composed Tragedies upon old subjects, with old titles, which, we see, was the common practice of the Greek Poets .; of as many of them, at least, as possible, and those the best: especially, considering the captious criticism, to which, in these days, he is exposed. For, the public, having now seen different Poets excel in each of these different kinds, expect every single Poet to unite in himself, and to surpass, the peculiar excellences of them all.

One Tragedy may justly be considered as the same with another, or different, not according as the subjects, but, rather, according as the complication and development, are the same or different. Many Poets, when they have complicated well, develop badlyNo fault so common: see NOTE 59.-It was with the Greek Tragedians, probably, as with Shakspeare. "In many of his plays the latter part is evidently "neglected. When he found himself near the end of his work, and in view of his "reward, he shortened the labour, to snatch the profit. He therefore remits his "efforts where he should most vigorously exert them, and his catastrophe is impro-"bably produced, or imperfectly represented.". Johnson's Pref. to Shakspeare.. They should endeavour to deserve equal applause in both.

XX.

We must also be attentive to what has been often mentionedSee Part I. Sect. 9. II. Sect. 7 ., and not construct a Tragedy upon an Epic plan. By an Epic plan, I mean, a fable composed of many fablesi. e. of many distinct parts, or Episodes, each of them capable of furnishing a Tragic fable. Compare Part III. Sect. 1. and V. Sect. 3. about the want of strict unity in the epic fable .; as if any one, for instance, should take the entire fable of the ILIAD for the subject of a Tragedy. In the Epic Poem, the length of the whole admits of a proper magnitude in the parts; but in the drama, the effect of such a plan is far different from what is expected. As a proof of this, those Poets, who have formed the whole of the destruction of Troy into a Tragedy, instead of confining themselves (as Euripides, but not Aeschylus, has done, in the story of Niobe,) to a part, have either been condemned in the representation, or have contended without success.

Even Agatho has failed on this account, and on this only: for, in revolutions, and in actions also of the simple kind, these Poets succeed wonderfully in what they aim at; and that is, the union of Tragic effect with moral tendency: as when, for example, a character of great wisdom, but without integrity, is deceived, like Sisyphus; or, a brave, but unjust man, conquered. Such events, as Agatho says, are probable, "as it is probable, in general, that many things should happen contrary to probability.".

XXI.

The CHORUS should be considered as one of the persons in the dramaActoris partes chorus, officiumque virile Defendat: neu quid medios intercinat actus, Quod non proposito conducat & haereat aptè. Hor. A. P. 193 .; should be a part of the whole, and a sharer in the action: not as in EuripidesThis expression does not, I think, necessarily imply any stronger censure of Euripides, than that the Choral Odes of his Tragedies were, in general, more loosely connected with the subject, than those of Sophocles: which, on examination, would, I believe, be found true. For, that this is the fault here meant, not the improper "choice of the persons who compose the Chorus," as the ingenious translator of Euripides understands, is, I think, plain from what immediately follows; the connection being this: "Sophocles is, in this respect, most perfect; Euripides less so; as to the others, "their choral songs are totally foreign to the subject of their Tragedies.". See Mr. Potter's Euripides-Postscript to the Trojan Dames. Dr. Warton's Essay on the Genius, &c. of Pope, vol. i. p. 71 ., but, as in Sophocles. As for other Poets-their choral songs have no more connection with their subject, than with that of any other Tragedy: and hence, they are now become detached pieces, inserted at pleasure: a practice first introduced by AgathoIt is curious to trace the gradual extinction of the Chorus. At first, it was all; then, relieved by the intermixture of dialogue, but still principal; then, subordinate to the dialogue; then digressive, and ill connected with the piece; then borrowed from other pieces at pleasure-and so on, to the fiddles and the act-tunes, at which Dacier is so angry. (See his Note p. 335.) . The performers in the orchestra of a modern theatre, are little, I believe, aware, that they occupy the place, and may consider themselves as the lineal descendants, of the antient Chorus.-Orchestra (όρχηστρα) was the name of that part of the antient theatre, which was appropriated to the Chorus. [JUL. POLLUX, IV. c. 423.] .. Yet where is the difference, between this arbitrary insertion of an Ode, and the transposition of a speech, or even of a whole Episode, from one Tragedy to another?.

XXII.

Of the other parts of Tragedy enough has now been said. We are next to consider the DICTION, and the SENTIMENTS.

For what concerns the sentiments, we refer to the principles laid down in the books on RhetoricSee Harris's Philolog. Inquiries, p. 173, &c .; for to that subject they more properly belong. The sentiments include whatever is the object of speech; as, for instance, to prove, to confute, to move the passions-pity, terror, anger, and the like; to amplify, or to diminish. But it is evident, that, with respect to the things themselves alsoThings themselves-i. e. the events, incidents, &c. of the fable, as opposed to the sentiments, or thoughts. See the NOTE ., when the Poet would make them appear pitiable, or terrible, or great, or probable, he must draw from the same sources; with this difference only, that, in the drama, these things must appear to be such, without being shewn to be suchThe circumstances which form the fable of Lear, Othello, Oedipus, &c. are such, as must of themselves, always appear in the highest degree atrocious, terrible, piteous, &c. whether the Poet be a Shakspeare, or a Tate. See the NOTE .; whereas, in oratory, they must be made to appear so by the speaker, and in consequence of what he says: otherwise, what need of an orator, if they already appear so, in themselves, and not through his eloquence?.

XXIII.

With respect to DICTION, one part of its theory is that, which treats of the figures of speechFigures of speech-not in the usual sense of that expression; as appears, indeed, from his instances. See the NOTE; and Hermes, I. 8. about the modes: particularly, NOTE (C.) .; such as, commanding, entreating, relating, menacing, interrogating, answering, and the like. But this belongs, properly, to the art of acting, and to the professed masters of that kind.

The Poet's knowledge, or ignorance, of these things, cannot any way materially affect the credit of his art. For who will suppose there is any justice in the cavil of Protagoras-that, in the words, "The wrath, O goddess, singIn the opening of the Iliad .," the Poet, where he intended a prayer, had expressed a command: for he insists, that to say, Do this, or do it not, is to command.-This subject, therefore, we pass over, as belonging to an art distinct from that of Poetry.

XXIV.

TO ALL DICTION, belong the following parts:-the letter, the syllable, the conjunction, the noun, the verb, the article, the case, the discourse or speech.

1. A letter is an indivisible sound; yet not all such sounds are letters, but those only that are capable of forming an intelligible sound. For there are indivisible sounds of brute creatures; but no such sounds are called letters. Letters are of three kinds; vowels, semivowels, and mutes. The vowel, is that, which has a distinct sound without articulationLiterally, percussion: i. e. of the tongue against the palate, or teeth, the lips against the teeth, or against each other, and all the other modes of consonant articula-tion .; as A, or O.-The semivowel, that which has a distinct sound with articulation, as S, and R. The mute, that which, with articulation, has yet no sound by itself; but joined with one of those letters that have some sound, becomes audible; as, G, and D.See Hermes, III. 2. p. 322. where they are called "con-tacts.". Dacier makes sad confusion here, both in his version, and his notes, by confounding the names of the consonants, when vowels are prefixed, or put after them, to make them separately pro-nouncible, (Te, ef, eL, &c.) with their powers in composition as elements of words. Thus, it is strictly true, that S and R, have a sound, without the assistance of a vowel, merely by their mode of articulation. But D, or G, have no sound at all by them-selves. The semivowels are l, m, n, r, s. (Dion. Halicarn. De Struct. Orat. Sect. 14.) . See Hermes, p. 239, Note (a) .. These all differ from each other, as they are produced by different configurations, and in different parts, of the mouth; as they are aspirated or smooth, long or short; as their tone is acute, grave, or intermediate: the detail of all which, is the business of the metrical treatises.

2. A syllable, is a sound without signification, composed of a mute and a vowel: for GR, without A, is not a syllable; with A, as GRA, it is. But these differences, also, are the subject of the metrical art.

3. A conjunction, is a sound without signification, * * * * * * * of such a nature, as, out of several sounds, each of them significant, to form one significant soundHere are, in the original, two definitions; one intelligible, and one unintelligible. I believe I shall easily be excused for giving the reader the intelligible definition only. See the NOTE ..

4. An article, is a sound without signification, which marks the beginning, or the end of a sentence; or distinguishes, as when we say, THE word φημι, THE word περι, &c.Hermes, p. 216, &c . * * * * *.

5. A noun, is a sound, composed of other sounds; significant, without expression of time; and of which no part is by itself significant: for even in double words, the parts are not taken in the sense that separately belongs to them. Thus, in the word Theodorus, dorus is not significantThe name, Theodorus, is derived from Theos, God, and Doron, a gift. Yet when the word is used, it stands for neither of these ideas, but merely for the indivi-dual so named ..

6. A verb, is a sound composed of other sounds;-significant-with expression of time: and of which, as of the noun, no part is by itself significant. Thus, in the words, man, white, indication of time is not included: in the words, he walks, he walked, &c. it is included; the one expressing the present time, the other the past.

7. Cases belong to nouns and verbsThese only, in modern grammar, are called cases: in Aristotle, number, whether in noun or verb, and the tenses, and modes, (or moods,) of verbs, are comprehended under that term; because cases, (πτώσεις-casus) are endings, terminations, inflections, &c. and, in the learned languages, all the above mentioned differences of meaning are expressed by different terminations. The French use chute, the literal translation of casus, in the sense of termination. "La chute d'une periode," &c. And fall is used, in our poetical language, for close, or cadence, in music. "That strain again-it had a dying FALL.". Merch. of Venice. And so Milton in Comus, v. 251 .. Some cases express relation, as of, to, and the like: others, number; as man, or men, &c. Others relate to action or pronunciationThese modes, are the same which he calls figures of speech, Sect. 23. See the NOTE.: as those of interrogation, of command, &c. for, εβαδισε; [did he go?] and, βαδιζε [go,] are verbal cases of that kind.

8. Discourse, or speech, is a sound significant, composed of other sounds, some of which are significant by themselves: for all discourse is not composed of verbs and nouns;-the definition of ManThe definition alluded to appears to be this, literally rendered: "A terrestrial animal with two feet." (ζωον πεζον, διπουν.) . See the NOTE ., for instance. Discourse, or speech, may subsist without a verb: some significant part, however, it must contain significant, as the word Cleon is, in, "Cleon walks.".

A discourse or speech is one, in two senses; either as it signifies one thing, or, several things made one by conjunction. Thus, the Iliad is one by conjunction: the definition of Man, by signifying one thing.

XXV.

Of WORDS, some are single-by which I mean, composed of parts not significant; and some double: of which last, some have one part significant, and the other not significant; and some, both parts significant. A word may also be triple, quadruple, &c. like many of those used by the Megaliotae; as, HermocaicoxanthusA strange word, and how it was applied we know not. It appears to be a con-solidation of three Asiatic rivers-the Hermus, the Caicus, and the Xanthus .. Every word is either common, or foreign, or metaphorical, or ornamental, or invented, or extended, or contracted, or alteredSee the last paragraph of NOTE 190; an observation of importance to the right understanding of this enumeration ..

By COMMON words, I mean, such as are in general and established, use. By FOREIGN, such as belong to a different language: so that the same word may, evidently, be both common, and foreign, though not to the same people. The word Σιγυνον, to the Cyprians is common, to us, foreign.

A METAPHORICALFor the general sense, in which metaphorical is here used, see the beginning of NOTE 183 . word is a word transferred from its proper sense; either from genus to species, or from species to genus, or from one species to another, or in the way of analogy.

1. From genus to species: as, Secure in yonder port my vessel STANDSFrom Homer, Od. A. 185.-In Pope's translation, I. 237. "Far from your capital my ship resides.". This would not answer my purpose, because the metaphor is changed .. For, to be at anchor, is one species of standing or being fixedHow widely different is the metaphor, when we talk of a ship RIDING at anchor! ..

2. From species to genus: as, - to Ulysses, A THOUSAND generous deeds we owe-Il. B. 272. In Pope, II. 333 . but the metaphor is not retained .. For a thousand is a certain definite many, which is here used for many, in general.

3. From one species to anotherThis, and the next species, only, answer to what we call metaphor-the meta-phor founded on resemblance. The two first species belong to the trope denominated, since Aristotle's time, Synecdoche .: as, Χαλκῳ απο ψυχην ΑΡΥΣΑΣ. And, ΤΑΜ' ατειρει χαλκῳ. For here, the Poet uses ταμειν, to cut off, instead of αρυσαι, to draw forth, and αρυσαι instead of ταμειν: each being a species of taking away.

4. In the way of analogy-when, of four terms, the second bears the same relation to the first, as the fourth to the third; in which case, the fourth may be substituted for the second, and the second for the fourth. And, sometimes, the proper term is also introduced, besides its relative term. Thus, a cup bears the same relation to Bacchus, as a shield to Mars. A shield, therefore, may be called the cup of Mars, and a cup, the shield of Bacchus. Again-evening being to day, what old age is to life, the evening may be called the old age of the day, and old age, the evening of life; or, as Empedocles has expressed it, "Life's setting sun"Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone.". GRAY-Ode on Spring. "Yet hath my night of life some memory.". Shakspeare, Com. of Errors-last scene ..". It sometimes happens, that there is no proper analogous term, answering to the term borrowed; which yet may be used in the same manner, as if there were. For instance: to sow, is the term appropriated to the action of dispersing seed upon the earth; but the dispersion of rays from the sun is expressed by no appropriated term; it is, however, with respect to the sun's light, what sowing is with respect to seed. Hence the Poet's expression, of the sun- - SOWING abroad "His heaven-created flame.".

There is, also, another way of using this kind of metaphor, by adding to the borrowed word a negation of some of those qualities, which belong to it in its proper sense: as if, instead of calling a shield the cup of Mars, we should call it the wineless cupFor the ornamental word, or the ornament, (κοσμος) as Aristotle calls it, the de-finition of which should have come in here, see NOTE 190 ..

An INVENTED word, is a word never before used by any one, but coined by the Poet himself; for such, it appears, there are; as EPNYTAIi. e. Branches: which we also use for the horns of a stag. But Aristotle means a new word, not a new application merely, of a word already in use . for KEPATA, horns, or APHTHPA supplicator: literally, a prayer, taken in the sense of one who prays; as seer is used for prophet . for IEPEYΣ, a priest.

A word is EXTENDED, when for the proper vowel a longer is substituted, or a syllable is inserted. A word is CONTRACTED, when some part of it is retrenched. Thus, ποληος, for πολεος, and Πηληιαδεω for Πηλειδεω, are extended words: contracted, such as KPI, and ΔΩKρι, occurs Il. E. 196. - Δω, Il. A. 425., and OΨ: e. g. μια γινεται αμφοτερων ΟΨPart of a verse of Empedocles, quoted by Strabo, p. 364. Ed. Cas. Il. E. 393 ..

An ALTERED word, is a word, of which part remains in its usual state, and part is of the Poet's making: as in ΔΕΞΙΤΕΡΟΝ κατα μαζον, δεξιΤΕΡΟΣ is for δεξιΟΣ.

Farther;- NOUNS are divided into masculine, feminine, and neuter. The masculine are those which end in ν, ρ, σ, or in some letter compounded of σ and a mute; these are two, ψ and ξ. -The feminine, are those which end in the vowels always long, as η, or ω; or, in α, of the doubtful vowels: so that the masculine and the feminine terminations are equal in number; for as to ψ and ξ, they are the same with terminations in σ. No noun ends in a mute, or a short vowel. There are but three ending in ι; μελι, κομμι, πεπερι: five ending in υ; πωυ, ναπυ, γονυ, δορυ, αστυ. The neuter terminate in these two last-mentioned vowels, and in ν and σ.

XXVI.

The excellence of diction consists in being perspicuous without being mean. The most perspicuous is that which is composed of common words; but, at the same time, it is mean. Such is the Poetry of Cleophon, and that of Sthenelus. That language, on the contrary, is elevated, and remote from the vulgar idiom, which employs unusual words: by unusual, I mean, foreign, metaphorical, extended-all, in short, that are not common words. Yet, should a Poet compose his diction entirely of such words, the result would be, either an aenigma, or a barbarous jargon: an aenigma, if composed of metaphors; a barbarous jargon, if composed of foreign words. For the essence of an aenigma consists in putting together things apparently inconsistent and impossible, and, at the same time, saying nothing but what is true. Now this cannot be effected by the mere arrangement of the wordsBy mere arrangement or construction of words used in their proper senses, you may produce nonsense, or ambiguity; but not, an inconsistent and impossible, yet clear, meaning .; by the metaphorical use of them, it may; as in this aenigma:

A man I once beheld, [and wondering view'd,] Who, on another, brass with fire had GLEW'D.See the NOTE. The operation of cupping is meant, which the Greeks per-formed with an instrument of brass .

With

With respect to barbarism, it arises from the use of foreign words. A judicious intermixture is, therefore, requisite.

Thus, the foreign word, the metaphorical, the ornamental, and the other species before mentioned, will raise the language above the vulgar idiom, and common words will give it perspicuity. But nothing contributes more considerably to produce clearness, without vulgarity, of diction, than extensions, contractions, and alterations, of words: for here, the variation from the proper form, being unusual, will give elevation to the expression; and, at the same time, what is retained of usual speech will give it clearness. It is without reason, therefore, that some critics have censured these modes of speech, and ridiculed the PoetHomer. for the use of them; as old EuclidNot the Geometrician. did, objecting, that "versification would be an easy business, if it were permitted to lengthen words at pleasure:" and then giving a burlesque example of that sort of diction: as, * * *I have omitted the examples-two lines of incurable corruption; the "confusion" of which is "worse confounded" by an endless variety of various readings, which, after all, are only so many different shades of nonsense. See the NOTE.

Undoubtedly, when these licences appear to be thus purposely used, the thing becomes ridiculous. In the employment of all the species of unusual words, moderation is necessary: for metaphors, foreign words, or any of the others, improperly used, and with a design to be ridiculous, would produce the same effect. But how great a difference is made by a proper and temperate use of such words, may be seen in heroic verse. Let any one only substitute common words in the place of the metaphorical, the foreign, and others of the same kind, and he will be convinced of the truth of what I say. For example: the same Iambic verse occurs in Aeschylus and in Euripides; but, by means of a single alteration -the substitution of a foreign, for a common and usual word, one of these verses appears beautiful, the other ordinary. For Aeschylus, in his PhiloctetesWe have neither of the Tragedies here alluded to., says

Φαγεδαινα, ἡ με σαρκας ΕΣΘΙΕΙ ποδος

The cankerous wound that eats my flesh.--

But Euripides, instead of εσθιει [eats] uses ΘΟΙΝΑΤΑΙ.

The same difference will appear, if, in this verse,

Νυν δε μ' εων ΟΛΙΓΟΣ τε και ΟΥΤΙΔΑΝΟΣ και ΑΚΙΚΥΣOdyssey IX. v. 515. of the original. It is obvious that these differences cannot be preserved in a translation.,

we substitute common words, and say,

Νυν δε μ' εων ΜΙΚΡΟΣ τε και ΑΣΘΕ

So, again, should we for the following, -

Διφρον ΑΕΙΚΕΛΙΟΝ καταθεις, ΟΛΙΓΗΝ τε τραπεζανOd. Y. 259.

substitute this:-

Διφρον ΜΟΧΘΗΡΟΝ καταθης, ΜΙΚΡΑΝ τε τραπεζαν.

Or, change-Ηιονες ΒΟΟΩΣΙΝIl. P. 265. Pope's line is, "And distant rocks rebellow to the roar." - The cliffs rebellow - Ηιονες ΚΡΑΖΟΥΣΙΝ-The cliffs resound.

Ariphrades, also, endeavoured to throw ridicule upon the Tragic Poets, for making use of such expressions as no one would think of using in common speech; as, δωματων απο, instead of απο δωματων: and ΣΕΘΕΝ-and, εγω δε ΝΙΝ-and, Αχιλλεως περι, instead of περι Αχιλλεως, &c. Now it is precisely owing to their being not in common use, that such expressions have the effect of giving elevation to the diction. But this he did not knowAristotle's thorough contempt of the critic, and his criticism, could not have been more strongly marked than by this short and simple expression. [-εκεινα δε τουτο Αγνοει!].

To employ with propriety any of these modes of speech-the double words, the foreign, &c. is a great excellence: but the greatest of all, is to be happy in the use of metaphorMetaphors are, evidently, much more important, and more of the essence of Poetry, than the other sorts of words. It is very easy, and very commonly practised by Poets of no genius or originality, to copy the technical language, the formula, as it were, of Poetry-compound epithets, obsolete words, &c. These occur but now and then: metaphorical expression is continually wanted; and the beauty, force, and novelty of it, depend on the writer's own imagination. Indeed, almost all the beauty of Poetry, as far as language is concerned, all that distinguishes the Poet of genius, from the versifier who trusts solely to his ear, and to his memory, arises from the uncommon and original use of metaphor; especially, taking that word in Aristotle's latitude, as comprehending all tropical expression. Here, however, he plainly has our metaphor chiefly in view; the metaphor founded on resemblance.; for it is this alone which cannot be acquired, and which, consisting in a quick discernment of resemblances, is a certain mark of genius.

Of the different kinds of words, the double are best suited to Dithyrambic Poetry; the foreign to Heroic; the metaphorical to IambicThe verse of Tragedy. See the NOTE.. In Heroic Poetry, indeed, they have all their place; but to Iambic verse, which is, as much as may be, an imitation of common speechSee above-Part I. Sect. 7., those words which are used in common speech are best adapted; and such are, the common, the metaphorical, and the ornamental.

Concerning TRAGEDY, and the imitation by ACTION, enough has now been said.

I.

WITH respect to that species of Poetry which imitates by NARRATION, and in hexameter verse, it is obvious, that the fable ought to be dramatically constructed, like that of TragedySee below, Sect. 3.; and that it should have for its subject one entire and perfect action, having a beginning, a middle, and an end; so that, forming, like an animal, a complete whole, it may afford its proper pleasure: widely differing, in its construction, from history, which necessarily treats, not of one action, but of one timei. e. Opposed, (as appears from what follows,) to that which history gives.; and of all the events that happened, to one person, or to many, during that time; events, the relation of which, to each other, is merely casualUnity of interest is essential to the pleasure we expect from the Epic Poem; and this cannot exist, at least, in the degree required, without unity of action. Compare, Part II. Sect. 5, 7, and 8.. For, as the naval action at Salamis, and the battle with the Carthaginians in Sicily, were events of the same time, unconnected by any relation to a common end, or purpose; so also, in successive events, we sometimes see one thing follow another, without being connected to it by such relation. And this is the practice of the generality of Poets.

Even in this, therefore, as we have before observedPart II. Sect. 5., the superiority of HOMER's genius is apparent, that he did not attempt to bring the whole war, though an entire action with beginning and end, into his Poem. It would have been too vast an object, and not easily comprehended in one viewSee Part II. Sect. 4.: or had he forced it into a moderate compass, it would have been perplexed by its varietyBecause "the length of the whole would" then "not admit of a proper magnitude in the parts;" and, thus, an Epic Poem constructed upon an historical plan, would be exactly in the same case with a Tragedy "constructed on an Epic plan." See Part II. Sect. 20. and NOTE 153.. Instead of this, selecting one part only of the war, he has, from the rest, introduced many Episodes-such as the catalogue of the ships, and others-by which he has diversified his Poem.

Other Poets take for their subject the actions of one personPart II. Sect. 5., or of one period of time, or an action which, though one, is composed of too many parts. Thus, the author of the CypriacsOf this kind seems the Poem of Ariosto, the exordium of which, not only expresses the miscellaneous variety of his matter, but, also, his principle of unity. Le Donne, i cavalier, l'arme, gli amori, Le cortesie, l'audaci imprese, io canto, Che furo al TEMPO che passaro i Mori, &c. Ariosto's expedient was, to "intertwist the several actions together, in order to give something like the appearance of one action," to the whole, as has been observed of Spenser: [Letters on Chivalry, &c.] he has given his Poem the continuity of basket-work. Or, if I may be indulged in another comparison, his unity, is the unity produced between oil and vinegar by shaking them together; which only makes them separate by smaller portions., and of the Little IliadSo called, to distinguish it from the Iliad of Homer, of which it seems to have been a continuation. See the NOTE.. Hence it is, that the ILIAD, and the ODYSSEY, each of them, furnish matter for one Tragedy, or two, at most; but from the Cypriacs many may be taken, and from the Little Iliad, more than eight; as, The Contest for the Armouri. e. Between Ajax and Ulysses. Aeschylus wrote a Tragedy on this subject, of which the Ajax of Sophocles is the sequel.-Dacier., PhiloctetesThe Philoctetes of Sophocles only remains., Neoptolemus, Eurypylus, The VagrantOf the subject of this, and the preceding drama, we know nothing. See Pope's Odyssey, IV. 335. but what is there rendered slave, is, in Homer, beggar, or vagrant. The story is also touched by Euripides, in his Hecuba. See Potter's Transl. v. 210, &c., The Spartan Women, The Fall of Troy, The Return of the FleetSee the latter part of NOTE 116., SinonThe story is well known from Virgil, Aen. 2.-Sophocles wrote a Tragedy of this title., and The Trojan WomenA Tragedy of this name by Euripides is extant. See The Trojan Dames, in Mr. Potter's translation..

Again-the Epic Poem must also agree with the Tragic, as to its kinds: it must be simple, or complicated, moral, or disastrousSee Part II. Sect. 19.. Its parts, also, setting aside Music and Decoration, are the samePart I. Sect. 9.; for it requires Revolutions, Discoveries, and Disasters; and it must be furnished with proper sentiments and diction: of all which HOMER gave both the first, and the most perfect, example. Thus, of his two Poems, the Iliad is of the simple and disastrous kind; the Odyssey, complicated, (for it abounds throughout with discoveriesSee Pope's translation, XVI. 206, &c. where Ulysses discovers himself to Telemachus: XXI. 212. to the shepherds. XXIII. 211. to Penelope. XXIV. 375. to his father. IX. 17. to Alcinous. IV. 150, &c. Telemachus is discovered to Menelaus by his tears: v. 189, to Helen, by his resemblance to his father.-XIX. 545. Ulysses is discovered to the old nurse, by the scar.,) and moral. Add to this, that in language and sentiments he has surpassed all Poets.

II.

The Epic Poem differs from Tragedy, in the length of its plan, and in its metre.

With respect to length, a sufficient measure has already been assignedSee the preceding Sect. and Part II. Sect. 4.. It should be such, as to admit of our comprehending at one view the beginning and the end: and this would be the case, 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 hearingIn the dramatic contests. See the NOTE. "Hearer," See Dissert. I. p. 42, 43.. But there is a circumstance in the nature of Epic Poetry which affords it peculiar latitude in the extension of its plan. It is not in the power of Tragedy to imitate several different actions performed at the same time; it can imitate only that one which occupies the stage, and in which the actors are employed. But, the Epic imitation, being narrative, admits of many such simultaneous incidents, properly related to the subject, which swell the Poem to a considerable size. And this gives it a great advantage, both in point of magnificence, and, also, as it enables the Poet to relieve his hearer, and diversify his work, by a variety of dissimilar Episodes: for it is to the satiety naturally arising from similarity that Tragedies frequently owe their ill success.

With respect to metre, the heroic is established by experience as the most proper; so that, should any one compose a narrative Poem in any other, or in a variety of metres, he would be thought guilty of a great impropriety. For the heroic is the gravest and most majestic of all measures; and hence it is, that it peculiarly admits the use of foreign and metaphorical expressions; for in this respect also, the narrative imitation is abundant and various beyond the rest. But the Iambic and Trochaic have more motion; the latter being adapted to dance, the other to action and business. To mix these different metres, as Chaeremon has done, would be still more absurd. No one, therefore, has ever attempted to compose a Poem of an extended plan in any other than heroic verse; nature itself, as we before observedPart I. Sect. 7., pointing out the proper choice.

III.

Among the many just claims of HOMER to our praise, this is one-that he is the only Poet who seems to have understood what part in his Poem it was proper for him to take himself. The Poet, in his own person, should speak as little as possible; for he is not then the imitatorStrictly speaking. See Dissertation I. p. 26.. But other Poets, ambitious to figure throughout, themselvesThis is remarkably the case with Lucan; of whom Hobbes says, that "no Heroic Poem raises such admiration of the Poet, as his hath done, though not so great admiration of the persons he introduceth."-[Disc. concerning the Virtues of an Heroic Poem.], imitate but little, and seldom. HOMER, after a few preparatory lines, immediately introduces a man, a woman, or some other characterAs, gods, goddesses, allegorical beings, &c.; for all have their character-no where are the manners neglected.

IV.

The surprising is necessary in TragedySee above, Part II. Sect. 7. p. 83, 84.; but the Epic Poem goes farther, and admits even the improbable and incredible, from which the highest degree of the surprising results, because, there, the action is not seenThe best comment to which I can refer the reader upon all this part of Aristotle, is to be found in the 10th of the Letters on Chivalry and Romance, in which the Italian Poets, and the privileges of genuine Poetry, are vindicated, with as much solidity as elegance, against those, whom Dryden used to call his "Prose Critics"-against that sort of criticism "which looks like philosophy, and is not." Dr. Hurd's Dialogues, &c. vol. iii.. The circumstances, for example, of the pursuit of Hector by Achilles, are such, as, upon the stage, would appear ridiculous;-the Grecian army standing still, and taking no part in the pursuit, and Achilles making signs to them, by the motion of his head, not to interferePope's Iliad, XXII. 267. - Perhaps, the idea of stopping a whole army by a nod, or shake of the head, (a circumstance distinctly mentioned by Homer, but sunk in Mr. Pope's version,) was the absurdity here principally meant. If this whole Homeric scene were represented on our stage, in the best manner possible, there can be no doubt, that the effect would justify Aristotle's observation. It would certainly set the audience in a roar.. But in the Epic Poem this escapes our notice. Now the wonderful always pleases; as is evident from the additions which men always make in relating any thing, in order to gratify the hearers.

V.

It is from HOMER principally, that other Poets have learned the art of feigning well. It consists in a sort of sophism. When one thing is observed to be constantly accompanied, or followed, by another, men are apt to conclude, that, if the latter is, or has happened, the former must also be, or must have happened. But this is an error. * * For, knowing the latter to be true, the mind is betrayed into the false inference, that the first is true alsoFor an attempt to explain Aristotle's meaning in this difficult passage, which, I think, has not hitherto been understood, I must refer the reader to the NOTE..

VI.

The Poet should prefer impossibilities which appear probable, to such things as, though possible, appear improbableThis includes all that is called faery, machinery, ghosts, witches, enchantments, &c.-things, according to Hobbes, "beyond the actual bounds, and only within the conceived possibility of nature." [See the Letters on Chivalry, as above.] Such a being as Caliban, for example, is impossible. Yet Shakspeare has made the character appear probable; not certainly, to reason, but to imagination: that is, we make no difficulty about the possibility of it, in reading. Is not the Lovelace of Richardson, in this view, more out of nature, more improbable, than the Caliban of Shakspeare? The latter is, at least, consistent. I can imagine such a monster as Caliban: I never could imagine such a man as Lovelace.. Far from producing a planThe general plan, story, or argument, as Part II. Sect. 17. including events prior to the action, but necessary to be known. made up of improbable incidents, he should, if possible, admit no one circumstance of that kind; or, if he does, it should be exterior to the action itself, like the ignorance of Oedipus concerning the manner in which Laius diedSee the beginning of the Oedipus of Sophocles. Though the ignorance of Oedipus appears in the drama itself, yet the circumstances, upon which the improbability of that ignorance depends (his coming to Thebes, marrying Jocasta, and living with her twenty years,) are exterior to the drama: i. e. prior to the opening of the action. See above, Part II. Sect. 15.; not within the drama, like the narrative of what happened at the Pythian games, in the ElectraSee Brumoy, Th. des Grecs, I. p. 428. I believe he is right in understanding the absurdity here meant to be-"d'avoir fait raconter comme inconnue, une chose dont Clytemnestre auroit pû sçavoir d'ailleurs la verité ou la fausseté, surtout s'agissant d'Oreste qu'elle craignoit." The games in question were probably frequented by all Greece, and whatever happened at them, must have been matter of such public notoriety, that a fraudulent account would have been liable to immediate detection.; or, in The Mysians, the man who travels from Tegea to Mysia without speakingOf the subject of this Tragedy, and, consequently, of the cause of the silence here censured, we are entirely ignorant.. To say, that without these circumstances the fable would have been destroyed, is a ridiculous excuse: the Poet should take care, from the first, not to construct his fable in that manner. If, however, any thing of this kind has been admitted, and yet is made to pass under some colour of probability, it may be allowed, though even, in itself, absurd. Thus in the OdysseySee Pope's Transl. XIII. 138, and the note there, and on v. 142. Homer seems, clearly, to have imagined this circumstance, for the sake of the interesting scene which follows when Ulysses wakes. See v. 220, &c. Of the original, v. 187., the improbable account of the manner in which Ulysses was landed upon the shore of Ithaca, is such, as in the hands of an ordinary Poet, would evidently have been intolerable: but here, the absurdity is concealed under the various beauties, of other kinds, with which the Poet has embellished it.

The Diction should be most laboured in the idle parts of the Poem-those, in which neither manners, nor sentiments prevailIn the strictly narrative, or descriptive parts, where the Poet speaks in his own person, and the imitation, the drama, which Aristotle considers as the true business of Poetry, is suspended. These he calls the idle parts. The expression is applicable also to Tragedy; for though its imitation is throughout, yet every drama must have its comparatively idle parts. Such is the description above alluded to, of the chariot-race, in the Electra of Sophocles. The choruses also may, in a great measure be so considered; and in them, accordingly, the language is "laboured" and "splendid."-In Epic Poetry, these parts are of great importance to that variety which characterizes the species. [See above, Sect. II.] In so long a work, relief is wanted, and we are glad to hear the Poet in his turn. The reader may wonder that Aristotle did not add "nor passion." But that part of the Epic and Tragic Poem, which he calls the sentiments, includes the expression of passion. See Part II. Sect. 22. And the NOTE here.; for the manners and the sentiments are only obscured by too splendid a diction"His diction [Thomson's] is in the highest degree florid and luxuriant; such as may be said to be to his images and thoughts both their lustre and their shade; such as invests them with splendour, through which perhaps they are not always easily discerned." Dr. Johnson's Life of Thomson..

I.

WITH respect to CRITICAL OBJECTIONSThe original is, Problems. This appears to have been a common title of critical works in Aristotle's time. Objections, censures, and the most unreasonable cavils, were conveyed in the civil form of problems and questions. Thus, many criticisms on Homer were published under the title of Homeric Problems., and the ANSWERS to themThe scope of this part of Aristotle's work is of more importance to his subject than, at first view, it may appear to be. In teaching how to answer criticisms, it, in fact, teaches, (as far, I mean, as it goes,) what the Poet should do to avoid giving occasion to them. It seems, indeed, intended as an apology for Poetry, and a vindication of its privileges upon true poetical principles, at a time when the art and its professors were unfairly attacked on all sides, by the cavils of prosaic philosophers and sophists, such as Ariphrades, Protagoras, Euclid, &c. and by the puritanical objections of PLATO and his followers., the number and nature of the different sources, from which they may be drawn, will be clearly understood, if we consider them in the following manner.

1. The Poet, being an imitator, like the painter or any other artist of that kind, must necessarily, when he imitates, have in view one of these three objects;-he must represent things, such as they were, or are; or, such as they are said to be, and believed to be; or, such as they should beCompare Part I. Sect. 3..

2. Again: all this he is to express in words, either common, or foreign and metaphorical-or varied by some of those many modifications and peculiarities of language, which are the privilege of Poets.

3. To this we must add, that what is right in the Poetic art, is a distinct consideration from what is right in the political, or any other art. The faults of Poetry are of two kinds, essential and accidental. If the Poet has undertaken to imitate without talents for imitation, his Poetry will be essentially faulty. But if he is right in applying himself to Poetic imitation, yet in imitating is occasionally wrong; as, if a horse, for example, were represented moving both his right legs at once; or, if he has committed mistakes, or described things impossibleThis opens the door for the marvellous; machinery, ghosts, witches, faery, &c., with respect to other arts, that of Physic, for instance, or any other-all such faults, whatever they may be, are not essential, but accidental faults, in the PoetryCompare Part I. Sect. 3.-II. end of Sect. 15. and below, Sect. 5..

II.

To the foregoing considerations, then, we must have recourse, in order to obviate the doubts and objections of the critics.

For, in the first place, suppose the Poet to have represented things impossible with respect to some other art. This is certainly a fault. Yet it may be an excusable fault, provided the end of the Poet's art be more effectually obtained by it; that is, according to what has already been said of that end, if, by this means, that, or any other part, of the Poem, is made to produce a more striking effectWhich is exactly the case with Homer's improbable account of the landing of Ulysses, mentioned above, Part III. Sect. 6. See Note 7.. The pursuit of Hector is an instancePart III. Sect. 4.. If, indeed, this end might as well, or nearly as well, have been attained, without departing from the principles of the particular art in question, the fault, in that case, could not be justified; since faults of every kind should, if possible, be avoided.

Still we are to consider, farther, whether a fault be in things essential to the Poetic art, or foreign and incidental to it: for it is a far more pardonable fault to be ignorant, for instance, that a hind has no horns"A hind with golden horns," is expressly mentioned by Pindar in his 3d Olympic Ode, and by other Greek Poets. This inaccuracy in natural history, had probably been the subject of critical cavil., than to paint one badly.

II.

Farther: If it be objected to the Poet, that he has not represented things conformably to truthi. e. to common nature. Above, he expresses it, by "representing things such as they were, or are.", he may answer, that he has represented them as they should be. This was the answer of Sophocles-that he drew mankind such as they should be; Euripides, such as they are. And this is the proper answer.

But if the Poet has represented things in neither of these ways, he may answer, that he has represented them as they are said and believed to be. Of this kind are the poetical descriptions of the Gods. It cannot, perhaps, be said, that they are either what is best, or what is true; but, as Xenophanes says, opinions "taken up at random:" these are things, however, not clearly known.

Again-What the Poet has exhibited is, perhaps, not what is best, but it is the fact; as in the passage about the arms of the sleeping soldiers: --fixed upright in the earth Their spears stood byIliad, X. 152. In Pope's translation, v. 170, &c.-On what account this had been objected to by the critics, we are left to guess..- For such was the custom at that time, as it is now among the IllyriansDacier, after Victorius, supposes the objection to be, that the spears, so fastened in the ground, could not be readily disengaged, in case of a sudden attack. I shall only observe, that by Homer's description of the truce in the 3d book, this appears to have been the usual position of their spears when no attack was apprehended, and in open day-light; which makes it the less surprising that it should have been objected to as an impropriety in a situation of nocturnal danger, such as is described in the passage referred to. What Pope, III. 177, translates, "rest their spears," is, in Homer, "their spears were fixed." (παρα δ' εγχεα μακρα ΠΕΠΗΓΕΝ. v. 135.).

IV.

In order to judge whether what is said, or done, by any character, be well, or ill, we are not to consider that speech or action aloneThis is plainly connected with what precedes, which cannot be properly applied without taking in the consideration of character, circumstances, motives, &c.-The speech of Satan, for example, in Parad. Lost, IV. 32, taken in itself, is horrible: referred to the character who speaks it, nothing can be better. It is, poetically speaking, exactly what it should be., whether in itself it be good, or bad, but also by whom it is spoken or done, to whom, at what time, in what manner, or for what end-whether, for instance, in order to obtain some greater good, or to avoid some greater evil.

V.

For the solution of some objections, we must have recourse to the Diction. For example: ΟΥΡΗΑΣ μεν πρωτον On MULES and dogs the infection first began.Il. I. 69. The reason of the objection here is not told, and has been variously guessed by the commentators. Probably, the propriety of making the mules the first sufferers, before horses and other animals, was the matter in dispute. The objection seems frivolous, and the solution improbable. Pope This may be defended by saying, that the Poet has, perhaps, used the word ουρηας in its FOREIGN acceptation of centinels, not in its proper sense, of mules.

So also in the passage where it is said of Dolon-

ΕΙΔΟΣ μεν εην κακοςIl. K. 316. Pope, X. 375, has followed Aristotle's interpretation: "Not blest by nature with the charms of face, But swift of foot, and matchless in the race." POPE. The objection of the critics is supposed to have been, that an ill-made man, could not be a good racer. See Pope's Note.

Of form unhappy.-

The meaning is, not, that his person was deformed, but, that his face was ugly; for the Cretans use the word ΕΥΕΙΔΕΣ-"well-FORMED" to express a beautiful face.

Again:

ΖΩΡΟΤΕΡΟΝ δε κεραιρεIliad IX. 267, 8.-Pope follows the common, and probably the right, acceptation of the word. "Mix purer wine." Aristotle's interpretation has not made its fortune with the critics. He seems to have produced it rather as an exemplification of the sort of answer which he is here considering, than as an opinion in which he acquiesced himself. It was, probably, an answer which had been given. The cavil, according to Plutarch, came from Zoilus. [See the Symposiac Prob. of Plut. V. 4, where this subject is discussed, and several other conjectural senses of the word Ζωρότερον are proposed.]

Here, the meaning is not, "mix it strong," as for intemperate drinkers; but, "mix it quickly."

2. The following passages may be defended by METAPHOR.

"Now pleasing sleep had seal'd each mortal eye; Stretch'd in the tents the Grecian leaders lie; The immortals slumber'd on their thrones aboveBeginning of B. II.-What it was that wanted defence in this passage, and that was to be taken metaphorically, we are not told. That it was the representation of the Gods as sleeping, is the most probable conjecture. This is somewhat softened by Mr. Pope's "slumbered." Homer says "SLEPT all the night."-Ευδον παννυχιοι. Iliad, X. v. 13. (of the Orig. v. 11.) But Pope's version was not literal enough for my purpose."

Again-

"When on the Trojan plain his anxious eye Watchful he fix'd."-"For the supposed objection, see my NOTE.

And-

Αυλων συριγγων θ' ΟΜΑΔΟΝIbid. 15, 16.-Orig. 13. The sense of the example may be given, pretty closely, thus: The distant voice of flutes and pipes he mark'd With wonder, and the "busy hum of men." But this does not answer exactly to the Greek, where the word, which I have rendered hum, may signify either the hum or murmur of a multitude, or the multitude itself. See the NOTE..

For, ALLAs the Greek word for ALL, does not occur in any of the preceding examples, we suppose some example, corresponding to this explanation, to have been lost., is put metaphorically instead of many; all being a species of many.

Here also-

The Bear ALONE, Still shines exalted in th' aetherial plain, "Nor bathes his flaming forehead in the main." POPE.

ALONE, is metaphorical: the most remarkable thing in any kind, we speak of as the only onei. e. by Synecdoche. See above, p. 107..

We may have recourse also,

3. To ACCENT: as the following passage

ΔΙΔΟΜΕΝ δε οι ευχος αρεσθαιSee Pope's Iliad, II. 9, and his note. For the Jesuitical distinction of Hippias's Theology, see the NOTE.

And this-το μεν ΟΥ καταπυθεται ομβρωIl. Ψ. 328. Pope's transl. XXIII. 402.-" unperished with the rains." According to a different accentuation of the word ΟΥ, in the original, it would mean, "where perished with the rains." See the NOTE.-were defended by Hippias of Thasos.

4. To PUNCTUATION; as in this passage of Empedocles:-

Αιψα δε θνητ' εφυοντο τα πριν μαθον αθανατ' ειναι, ΖΩΡΑ ΤΕ ΤΑ ΠΡΙΝ ΑΚΡΗΤΑ

i. e. things, before immortal, Mortal became, and mix'd before unmix'dThe verses allude to the two great physical principles of Empedocles, which he chose to denominate friendship and strife, and in which modern philosophers have discovered the Newtonian principles of attraction and repulsion. He held everything to be formed of the four elements, and resolved into them again. Friendship was the uniting, strife, the separating, principle. The elements themselves, in their separate and simple state, were immortal; the things compounded of them, were mortal; i. e. liable to be resolved into their first principles. As far as we can make anything of this fragment, it seems intended to express the two contrary changes of things; from immortal to mortal, by the uniting principle, and from mortal to immortal, i. e. from mixed to unmixed, by the disuniting principle. But the words "mixed before unmixed," will, plainly, express either of these changes, according as we place the comma, after mixed, or after before. It is imagined, that the critics mistook the punctuation so as to make Empedocles express only the same change in different words, and then censured this, as inconsistent with the expression, "their courses changed." [διαλλαττοντα κελευθους-changing their ways.], [Their courses changed.]

5. To AMBIGUITY; as in παρωχηκεν δε ΠΛΕΩΝ νυξIl. K. 252. Pope's translation, X. 298. The original says" more than two parts of the night are past; the third part remains." This the cavilling critics censured as a sort of bull. What is guessed to have been the answer, the reader may see, but I believe will hardly wish to see, in Dacier's notes. where the word ΠΛΕΩΝ is ambiguous.

6. To CUSTOMARY SPEECH: thus, wine mixed with water, or whatever is poured out to drink as wine, is called ΟΙΝΟΣ-wine: hence, Ganymede is said-ΟΙΝΟΧΟΕΥΕΙΝIl. Y. 234. Pope, XX. 278, &c. He renders it" to bear the cup of Jove."-to "pour the WINE to Jove:" though wine is not the liquor of the Gods. This, however, may also be defended by metaphorThe metaphor from species to species. See p. 108..

Thus, again, artificers in iron are called Χαλκεις-literally, brasiers. Of this kind is the expression of the Poet-Κνημις νεοτευκτου ΚΑΣΣΙΤΕΡΟΙΟIl. Φ. 592.-Literally, "greaves of tin." But it is not customary speech with us, to say tin, for iron or steel. The Greek word for tin, however, appears to have been so used. We are not here to understand the objection to have been pointed at the improper use of a word. The critics took, or pretended to take, the word in its proper sense, and thence objected to the absurdity of tin armour..

7. When a word, in any passage, appears to express a contradiction, we must consider, in how many different SENSES it may there be taken. Here, for instance-

-τη ρ' ΕΣΧΕΤΟ χαλκεον εγχος

"There stuck the lanceIl. XX. 321. Mr. Pope seems to have translated very accurately here, and to have preserved even the ambiguity of the original; for the verb, to stick, admits, like the Greek word, (εχεσθαι) of two senses;-that of being fastened to, or fixed in, and that of being stopped-prevented from going farther. See the NOTE. - "impenetrable charms" Secur'd the temper of th' aetherial arms. Thro' two strong plates the point its passage held, But stopp'd, and rested, by the third repell'd; Five plates of various metal, various mold, Compos'd the shield; of brass each outward fold, Of tin each inward, and the middle, gold: THERE STUCK THE LANCE."." POPE.

-the meaning is, was stopped only, or repelled. Of how many different senses a word is capable, may best be discovered by considering the different senses that are opposed to it.

We may also say, with Glauco, that some critics, first take things for granted without foundation, and then argue from these previous decisions of their own; and, having once pronounced their judgment, condemn, as an inconsistence, whatever is contrary to their preconceived opinion. Of this kind is the cavil of the critics concerning IcariusMentioned by Homer as the father of Penelope.. Taking it for granted that he was a Lace-daemonian, they thence infer the absurdity of supposing Telemachus not to have seen him when he went to Lacedaemon. But, perhaps, what the Cephalenians say may be the truth. They assert, that the wife of Ulysses was of their country, and that the name of her father was not Icarius, but Icadius. The objection itself, therefore, is probably founded on a mistake.

VI.

The Impossible, in general, is to be justified by referring, either to the end of Poetry itself, or to what is best, or to opinion.

For, with respect to Poetry, impossibilities, rendered probable, are preferable to things improbable, though possibleSee Part III. Sect. 6. and Note, p. 119..

With respect also to what is best, the imitations of Poetry should resemble the paintings of ZEUXISImproved nature, ideal beauty, &c. which, elsewhere, is expressed by, what should be. Compare the beginning of this Part, and Sect. 3.-Part I. Sect. 3.- Part II. Sect. 15. p. 94.: the example should be more perfect than nature"In ancient days, while Greece was flourishing in liberty and arts, a celebrated painter, [Zeuxis,] having drawn many excellent pictures for a certain free state, and been generously rewarded for his labours, at last made an offer to paint them a Helen, as a model and exemplar of the most exquisite beauty. The proposal was readily accepted, when the artist informed them, that in order to draw one Fair, it was necessary he should contemplate many. He demanded therefore a sight of all their finest women. The state, to assist the work, assented to his request. They were exhibited before him he selected the most beautiful; and from these formed his Helen, more beautiful than them all." Harris's Three Treatises, p. 216..

To opinion, or what is commonly said to be, may be referred even such things as are improbable and absurd; and it may also be said, that events of that kind are, sometimes, not really improbable; since "it is probable, that many things should happen contrary to probabilitySee Part II. Sect. 20, at the end; and NOTE 156.."

VII.

When things are said, which appear to be contradictory, we must examine them as we do in logical confutation: whether the same thing be spoken of; whether in the same respect, and in the same sense.

VIII.

Improbability, and vitious manners, when excused by no necessity, are just objects of critical censure. Such is the improbability in the AegeusOf this Tragedy, some inconsiderable fragments only remain. of Euripides, and the vitious character of MenelausSee p. 93. in his Orestes.

Thus, the sources from which the critics draw their objections are five: they object to things as impossible, or improbable, or of immoral tendency, or contradictory, or contrary to technical accuracy. The answers, which are twelve in number, may be deduced from what has been saidThe reader, who regards his own ease, will, I believe, do well to take this for granted. If however he has any desire to try the experiment, he may read the NOTE on this passage; and I wish it may answer to him..

I.

IT may be inquired, farther, which of the two imitations, the EPIC, or the TRAGIC, deserves the preference.

If that, which is the least vulgar, or popular, of the two, be the best, and that be such, which is calculated for the better sort of spectators-the imitation, which extends to every circumstanceThough Aristotle instances in gesture only, the objection, no doubt, extended to the whole imitative representation of the theatre, including the stage and scenery, by which place is imitated, and the dresses, which are necessary to complete the imitation of the persons. See the NOTES., must, evidently, be the most vulgar, or popular; for there, the imitators have recourse to every kind of motion and gesticulation, as if the audience, without the aid of action, were incapable of understanding them: like bad flute-players, who whirl themselves round, when they would imitate the motion of the Discus, and pull the Coryphaeus, when Scylla is the subject. Such is Tragedy. It may also be compared to what the modern actors are in the estimation of their predecessors; for Myniscus used to call Callipides, on account of his intemperate action, the ape-and Tyndarus was censured on the same account. What these performers are with respect to their predecessors, the Tragic imitation, when entire, is to the Epic. The latter, then, it is urged, addresses itself to hearers of the better sort, to whom the addition of gesture is superfluous: but Tragedy is for the peopleIt must be allowed, that stage-poetry, of all other, is more particularly levelled "to please the populace, and its success more immediately depending upon the common suffrage." Pope's Pref. to Shakespeare.; and being, therefore, the most vulgar kind of imitation, is evidently the inferior.

II.

But now, in the first place, this censure falls, not upon the Poet's art, but upon that of the actor; for the gesticulation may be equally laboured in the recitation of an Epic Poem, as it was by Sostratus; and in singing, as by Mnasitheus, the Opuntian.

Again-All gesticulation is not to be condemned; since even all dancing is not; but such only, as is unbecoming-such as was objected to Callipides, and is now objected to others, whose gestures resemble those of immodest womenAs no actresses were admitted on the Greek stage, their capital actors must frequently have appeared in female parts, such as, Electra, Iphigenia, Medea, &c. This is sufficiently proved by many passages of antient authors; and among others, by a remarkable story of an eminent Greek Tragic actor, told by Aulus Gellius. See the NOTE..

Farther-Tragedy, as well as the Epic, is capable of producing its effect, even without action; we can judge of it perfectly by readingSo above, p. 78, "the power of Tragedy is felt without representation and actors". If, then, in other respects, Tragedy be superior, it is sufficient that the fault here objected is not essential to it.

III.

Tragedy has the advantage in the following respects. It possesses all that is possessed by the Epic; it might even adopt its metreSee NOTE 36.: and to this it makes no inconsiderable addition, in the Music and the Decoration; by the latter of which, the illusion is heightened, and the pleasure, arising from the action, is rendered more sensible and striking.

It has the advantage of greater clearness and distinctness of impression, as well in reading, as in representation.

It has also that, of attaining the end of its imitation in a shorter compass: for the effect is more pleasurable, when produced by a short and close series of impressions, than when weakened by diffusion through a long extent of time; as the Oedipus of SOPHOCLES, for example, would be, if it were drawn out to the length of the IliadSee p. 39, Note..

Farther-there is less unity in all Epic imitation; as appears from this-that any Epic Poem will furnish matter for several Tragedies. For, supposing the Poet to chuse a fable strictly one, the consequence must be, either, that his Poem, if proportionably contracted, will appear curtailed and defective, or, if extended to the usual length, will become weak, and, as it were, diluted. If, on the other hand, we suppose him to employ several fables-that is, a fable composed of several actionsCompare Part II. Sect. 20, and Note 9.-Aristotle is not here speaking of that unconnected, historical multiplicity of action, which he had before condemned, [Part III. Sect. 1.] but of such as was essential to the nature of the Epic Poem. This is plain, from the example, which immediately follows; and, indeed, from the very drift of his argument.-his imitation is no longer strictly one. The Iliad, for example, and the Odyssey contain many such subordinate parts, each of which has a certain magnitude, and unity, of its own: yet is the construction of those Poems as perfect, and as nearly approaching to the imitation of a single action, as possible.

IV.

If then TRAGEDY be superior to the EPIC in all these respects, and, also, in the peculiar end at which it aims, (for each species ought to afford, not any sort of pleasure indiscriminately, but such only as has been pointed outi. e. according to Aristotle's principles, to give "that pleasure which arises from terror and pity, through imitation." See p. 90.,) it evidently follows, that TRAGEDY, as it attains more effectually the end of the art itself, must deserve the preference.

AND THUS MUCH concerning TRAGIC and EPIC Poetry in general, and their several species-the number and the differences of their parts-the causes of their beauties and their defects-the censures of critics, and the principles on which they are to be answered.