urge perhaps that the object ought to be as described--an answer like
that of Sophocles, who said that he drew men as they ought to be, and
Euripides as they were. If the description, however, be neither true nor
of the thing as it ought to be, the answer must be then, that it is in
accordance with opinion. The tales about Gods, for instance, may be as
wrong as Xenophanes thinks, neither true nor the better thing to say;
but they are certainly in accordance with opinion. Of other statements
in poetry one may perhaps say, not that they are better than the truth,
but that the fact was so at the time; e.g. the description of the arms:
'their spears stood upright, butt-end upon the ground'; for that was the
usual way of fixing them then, as it is still with the Illyrians. As for
the question whether something said or done in a poem is morally right
or not, in dealing with that one should consider not only the intrinsic
quality of the actual word or deed, but also the person who says or does
it, the person to whom he says or does it, the time, the means, and the
motive of the agent--whether he does it to attain a greater good, or to
avoid a greater evil.
III. Other criticisms one must meet by considering the language of the
poet: (1) by the assumption of a strange word in a passage like _oureas
men proton_, where by _oureas_ Homer may perhaps mean not mules but
sentinels. And in saying of Dolon, _hos p e toi eidos men heen kakos_,
his meaning may perhaps be, not that Dolon's body was deformed, but that
his face was ugly, as _eneidos_ is the Cretan word for handsome-faced.
So, too, _goroteron de keraie_ may mean not 'mix the wine stronger', as
though for topers, but 'mix it quicker'. (2) Other expressions in Homer
may be explained as metaphorical; e.g. in _halloi men ra theoi te kai
aneres eudon (hapantes) pannux_ as compared with what he tells us at the
same time, _e toi hot hes pedion to Troikon hathreseien, aulon suriggon
*te homadon*_ the word _hapantes_ 'all', is metaphorically put for
'many', since 'all' is a species of 'many '. So also his _oie d'
ammoros_ is metaphorical, the best known standing 'alone'. (3) A change,
as Hippias suggested, in the mode of reading a word will solve the
difficulty in _didomen de oi_, and _to men ou kataputhetai hombro_.
(4) Other difficulties may be solved by another punctuation; e.g. in
Empedocles, _aipsa de thnet ephyonto, ta prin mathon athanata xora te
prin kekreto_. Or (5) by the assumption of an equivocal term, as in
_parocheken de pleo nux_, where _pleo_ in equivocal. Or (6) by an appeal
to the custom of language. Wine-and-water we call 'wine'; and it is
on the same principle that Homer speaks of a _knemis neoteuktou
kassiteroio_, a 'greave of new-wrought tin.' A worker in iron we call a
'brazier'; and it is on the same principle that Ganymede is described
as the 'wine-server' of Zeus, though the Gods do not drink wine. This
latter, however, may be an instance of metaphor. But whenever also a
word seems to imply some contradiction, it is necessary to reflect how
many ways there may be of understanding it in the passage in question;
e.g. in Homer's _te r' hesxeto xalkeon hegxos_ one should consider the
possible senses of 'was stopped there'--whether by taking it in this
sense or in that one will best avoid the fault of which Glaucon speaks:
'They start with some improbable presumption; and having so decreed it
themselves, proceed to draw inferences, and censure the poet as though
he had actually said whatever they happen to believe, if his statement
conflicts with their own notion of things.' This is how Homer's silence
about Icarius has been treated. Starting with, the notion of his having
been a Lacedaemonian, the critics think it strange for Telemachus not to
have met him when he went to Lacedaemon. Whereas the fact may have been
as the Cephallenians say, that the wife of Ulysses was of a Cephallenian
family, and that her father's name was Icadius, not Icarius. So that it
is probably a mistake of the critics that has given rise to the Problem.
Speaking generally, one has to justify (1) the Impossible by reference
to the requirements of poetry, or to the better, or to opinion. For
the purposes of poetry a convincing impossibility is preferable to
an unconvincing possibility; and if men such as Zeuxis depicted be
impossible, the answer is that it is better they should be like that, as
the artist ought to improve on his model. (2) The Improbable one has
to justify either by showing it to be in accordance with opinion, or by
urging that at times it is not improbable; for there is a probability of
things happening also against probability. (3) The contradictions found
in the poet's language one should first test as one does an opponent's
confutation in a dialectical argument, so as to see whether he means
the same thing, in the same relation, and in the same sense, before
admitting that he has contradicted either something he has said himself
or what a man of sound sense assumes as true. But there is no possible
apology for improbability of Plot or depravity of character, when they
are not necessary and no use is made of them, like the improbability
in the appearance of Aegeus in _Medea_ and the baseness of Menelaus in
_Orestes_.
The objections, then, of critics start with faults of five kinds:
the allegation is always that something in either (1) impossible, (2)
improbable, (3) corrupting, (4) contradictory, or (5) against technical
correctness. The answers to these objections must be sought under one or
other of the above-mentioned heads, which are twelve in number.
26
The question may be raised whether the epic or the tragic is the higher
form of imitation. It may be argued that, if the less vulgar is the
higher, and the less vulgar is always that which addresses the better
public, an art addressing any and every one is of a very vulgar order.
It is a belief that their public cannot see the meaning, unless they
add something themselves, that causes the perpetual movements of
the performers--bad flute-players, for instance, rolling about, if
quoit-throwing is to be represented, and pulling at the conductor, if
Scylla is the subject of the piece. Tragedy, then, is said to be an art
of this order--to be in fact just what the later actors were in the eyes
of their predecessors; for Myrmiscus used to call Callippides 'the ape',
because he thought he so overacted his parts; and a similar view was
taken of Pindarus also. All Tragedy, however, is said to stand to the
Epic as the newer to the older school of actors. The one, accordingly,
is said to address a cultivated 'audience, which does not need the
accompaniment of gesture; the other, an uncultivated one. If, therefore,
Tragedy is a vulgar art, it must clearly be lower than the Epic.
The answer to this is twofold. In the first place, one may urge (1) that
the censure does not touch the art of the dramatic poet, but only that
of his interpreter; for it is quite possible to overdo the gesturing
even in an epic recital, as did Sosistratus, and in a singing contest,
as did Mnasitheus of Opus. (2) That one should not condemn all movement,
unless one means to condemn even the dance, but only that of ignoble
people--which is the point of the criticism passed on Callippides and
in the present day on others, that their women are not like gentlewomen.
(3) That Tragedy may produce its effect even without movement or action
in just the same way as Epic poetry; for from the mere reading of a
play its quality may be seen. So that, if it be superior in all other
respects, this element of inferiority is not a necessary part of it.
In the second place, one must remember (1) that Tragedy has everything
that the Epic has (even the epic metre being admissible), together with
a not inconsiderable addition in the shape of the Music (a very real
factor in the pleasure of the drama) and the Spectacle. (2) That its
reality of presentation is felt in the play as read, as well as in the
play as acted. (3) That the tragic imitation requires less space for
the attainment of its end; which is a great advantage, since the more
concentrated effect is more pleasurable than one with a large admixture
of time to dilute it--consider the _Oedipus_ of Sophocles, for instance,
and the effect of expanding it into the number of lines of the _Iliad_.
(4) That there is less unity in the imitation of the epic poets, as
is proved by the fact that any one work of theirs supplies matter for
several tragedies; the result being that, if they take what is really
a single story, it seems curt when briefly told, and thin and waterish
when on the scale of length usual with their verse. In saying that
there is less unity in an epic, I mean an epic made up of a plurality
of actions, in the same way as the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ have many such
parts, each one of them in itself of some magnitude; yet the structure
of the two Homeric poems is as perfect as can be, and the action in them
is as nearly as possible one action. If, then, Tragedy is superior in
these respects, and also besides these, in its poetic effect (since the
two forms of poetry should give us, not any or every pleasure, but the
very special kind we have mentioned), it is clear that, as attaining the
poetic effect better than the Epic, it will be the higher form of art.
So much for Tragedy and Epic poetry--for these two arts in general and
their species; the number and nature of their constituent parts; the
causes of success and failure in them; the Objections of the critics,
and the Solutions in answer to them.