y And tragedy, indeed, originated from those who led Y the dithyramb, but comedy from those who sung the Phallic verses, which even now in many cities remain in use; and it gradually increased as obvious improvements became known. And tragedy, having experienced many changes, rested when it had are 7 13. Hs- rived at its proper nature.,, Auschylus, also, first im- mou rss dol creased_the numberof players from_one to two4, ove σοὶ tragedy, abridged the functions of the chorus, and made one and then of the players act the chief part®, But Sophocles inaaa troduced three players into the scene, and added 14, It be- Scenic painting. Further still, the magnitude [of comes tragedy increased] from small fables and ridiculous ape diction, in consequence of having been changed from satyric® composition, it was late before it acquired dignity. The metre also of tragedy, from tetrameter, became Iambic (for at first they used tetrameter in tragedy, because poetry was then satyrical, and more adapted to the dance, but dialogue being adopted, suitable nature herself discovered a suitable metre; for the Sa aa Iambic measure is most of all adapted to conversation.
metre, And as an evidence of this, we most frequently speak in Iambics in familiar discourse with each other; but we seldom speak in hexameters, and then only when we depart from that harmony which is adapted to conversation). Again, tragedy is said to have been further adorned, with a multitude of episodes, and other particulars. Let, therefore, thus much said suffice concerning these things; for it would perhaps be a great toil to discuss every particular.
* See my introduction to Aéschylus, p. vii. ed. Bohn.
§ See ibid. note.
6. Satyric, 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 Trocuaic or running metre δος spoken of was peculiarly adapted; being no other than ΙΒ: “Jolly mortals, fill your glasses, noble deeds are done by wine.”
The reader will not confound satyric with satiric; nor the Kawah fis. Sepp riarahe, Wrrrur arch Hs clan ea ‘ omar. Ὁ. POETIC 415 On Comedy, and its Origin— Difference of Epopee and ragedy.
But comedy is, as we have said, an imitation indeed of bad characters, yet it does not imitate them according to every vice, [but the ridiculous only;] since the ridiculous is a portion of turpitude. For the ridiculous is a certain error, and turpitude unattended with pain, and not destructive. Thus, for instance, a ridiculous face is something deformed and distorted without pain. The transitions, therefore, of tragedy, and the causes through which they are produced, are not unknown; but [those of ] comedy have escaped our knowledge, because it was not at first an object of attention. For it was late before the magistrate gave a chorus to comedians!; but prior to that period, the choruses were voluntary. Comedy, however, at length having obtained a certain form, those who are said to have been poets therein are commemorated. But it is unknown who it was that introduced masks or prologues,’ or a multitude of players, and such like particulars. But Epicharmus and Phormis [were the first] to compose fables; which, therefore, originated from Sicily. But among the Athenians, Crates, rejecting the Iambic?
Greek satyric drama with the satire of Roman origin. See Harris’s Phil. Arrang. p. 460, note. Dacier’s Preface to Horace’s Satires. The two words are of different derivations. Twining.
1 This was almost equivalent to the modern “licensing” of plays, but was probably conducted with more taste and less absurdity. The poet was said αἰτεῖν χορὸν, the choragus διόόναι, and, if the piece was approved by the archon, the poet χορὸν ἔλαβε. See Ritter.
2 But this is evidently corrupt. Ritter reads λόγους with Hermann, understanding those passages which the single actor either recited, or spoke in conversation with the chorus, opposing λόγοι ὑποκριτῶν to th? ἄσματα κωμῳδῶν.
5 Jambic, i. 6. satirical, and personally so, like the old Iamhé, \\ 1. Comedy an ime itation of the ridiculous.
2. Its changes not known.
4. Similarity of tragedy to epic poetry.
δ. Their common and distinctive parts, 416 ARISTOTLE’S [CHAP. VE form, first began generally to compose speeches and fables. The epopee, therefore, is an attendant on tragedy, [with the exception of the long metre 4} since through this it is an imitation of worthy characters and actions. But it differs from tragedy i in that it has a simple metre, and is a narration. It also [differs from it] in length. For tragedy is _ especially limited by one period of the sun, or admits but a small variation from this period; but the epopee is not defined within a certain time, and in this it differs; though at first they observed the same conduct with tragedy®, no less than epic poetry. With respect to the parts, however, [of the epopee and tragedy,] some are the same in both, but others are peculiar to tragedy. Hence he who knows what is a good or bad tragedy, knows the same in respect to epic poetry. For those things which the epopee possesses are to be found in tragedy, but every thing which tragedy contains is not in the epopee.
On the Form and End of Tragedy, and on its six parts, especially the Plot.
. CONCERNING, therefore, imitative poetry in hexameters, and comedy, we shall speak hereafter. Let us now, however, speak concerning tragedy, assuming the definition of its essence as arising from what has i- been already said. Tragedy, therefore, is an imitation of a worthy or illustrious and perfect action, invectives, or lampoons, of which Aristotle speaks above, and from which the Jambie metre, which is not here alluded to, took its name. Twining.
4 The words μέχρι μόνου μέτρου μεγάλου or μετὰ λόγον are thrown out by Ritter, and can have no meaning.
5 On the question of the unities see Twining, note 43, and lay own note on Asch. Eum. 235.
CHAP. VI.] POETIC. 417 possessing magnituda, in pleasing language, using separately the several'species of imitation in tts parts, by men acting, and not through narration, through pity and fear effecting a purification from such like _passions', But by pleasing language, I mean language possessing rhythm, harmony, and melody. And it uses separately the several species [of imitation], because some parts of the tragedy are alone perfected through metres, and others again through melody. But since they produce imitation by acting, in the first place the ornament of the spectacle? will be a certain part of the tragedy, and in the next place the melopeia*® and the diction. For by these αἱ they produce imitation. But I call diction, indeed, the composition of the metres; and melopeia that, the whole power of which is apparent. Since, however, [tragedy | is an imitation of action, and action is effected by certain agents, who must needs be persons of a certain description both as to their manners and their sentiments‘, (for from these we say that 1 On the different interpretations of this difficult passage, see Twining, note 45. Ritter has followed the views of Lessing, in a note too full of argument to admit of condensation. Taylor’s note is, as usual, a blundering Neo-Platonic attempt to reconcile the discrepancies of Aristotle and Plato.
2 Decoration—literally, the decoration of the spectacle, or sight. In other places it is called the spectacle, or sight only —déiyis. 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. Twining. — 3 Melopeia—liiterally, the making, or the composition, of the Music; as we use Epopeia, 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.’? Twining. 5 og * Dianoia—é.avoia, in a general way, may be defined to be διεξοδικὴ τοῦ λόγου éveoyeia, i. 6. the discursive energy of rea~ son. But accurately speaking, it is that power of soul which reasons scientifically, deriving the principles of its reasoning from sntellect. This latter definition, however, pertains to it, so far as it is not influenced in its reasonings by imagination and false opinions. Tay Lor, who objects to translating it “sentiments.” I prefer following Twining, understanding sentiments not exe 3. Its lane guage, and different manners of imitation: 5. Two causes of action, sentiments, and meral habit.
418 ARISTOTLE'S CHAP. YI.
6. Defini- _ tion of fable, manners, and sentiment, 7. Six parts in every tra- βοάν.
8. Some tragic poets use all these parts, 9. Tragedy an imitation of actions. 10. What constitutes cha-. racter. Manner not the end of traedy; 1. but action.
actions derive their quality, ) hence there are naturally two causes of actions, sentiments and moral habit, and through these actions all men obtain or fail of the object of their wishes. But a fable, indeed, is an imitation of action; for I mean by a fable here, the composition of incidents. By manners, I mean those things according to which we say that agents are persons of a certain character; and by sentiment, that through which those who speak demonstrate any thing, or explain their meaning. It is necessary, therefore, that the parts of every tragedy should be six, from which the tragedy derives its quality. But these are, fable and manners, diction and sentiment, spectacle and melépmia. Of these parts, however, two pertain to the means by which they imitate; one, to the manner; and three, to the objects®. And besides these, there are no other. [Not a few [tragic poets |, therefore, as I may say, use all these parts’. | For every tragedy has scenic apparatus, manners, and a fable, and melody, and, in a similar manner, sentiment. But the greatest of these is the combination of the incidents. For tragedy is an imitation not of men, but of actions, [of life, and of felicity. For infelicity consists in action, and the end is a certain action, and not a quality’.] Men, however, are persons of a certain character, according to their man- ‘ners; but aecording to their actions, they are happy, _or the contrary. The end of tragedy, therefore, does not consist in imitating manners, but it embraces manners on account of actions; so that the action and the fable are the end of tragedy. But the end is the greatest of all things. Moreover, without action, tragedy cannot exist; but it may exist without pressed, (γνώμαι, cf. Rhet. ii. 21,) but in the mind, and forming the mainspring of action.
5 i. 6. λέξις and μελοποιία are the means or instruments, ὄψις the manner, μῦθος, ἤθη, and dtavoia, the objects.
6 An evident interpolation. See Ritter.
7 Thus stands the text, as freed from the additions made by Aldus, or other Italian critics. But the whole passage is probably an interpolation, as Ritter seems to have clearlv showy, See his judicious note.
cuar. vi. | POETIC. 419 manners. For most modern tr:gedies are without manners; and in short, many poets are such as among painters Zeuxis is when compared with Polygnotus. For Polygnotus, indeed, painted the manners. of the good; but the pictures of Zeuxis are without manners. Further still, if any one place in a continued series moral speeches, sayings, and sentiments well framed, he will not produce that which is the work of tragedy; but that will be much more a tragedy, which uses these things as subordinate, and which contains a fable and combination of incidents. Add to this, that the greatest parts by which fable allures the soul, are the revolutions and discoveries. Again, it is likewise an evidence of this, that those who attempt to write tragedies, acquire the power of expressing a thing in tragic diction and manners accurately, before they can compose a fable, as was the case with nearly all the first poets. The fable, therefore, is the principal part, and as it were the soul of tragedy; but the manners are next in rank®. [Just as in painting, if any one were to spread the most beautiful pigments on promiscuously, he would not please the view so much as by outlining an image with white colour only. Tragedy also is an imitation of action, and on this account, especially, [an imitation] of agents. But the sentiments rank third. And by them [I mean] the power of explaining what is inherent in the subject, and adapted to it, which is the peculiar province of politics? and rhetoric. For the ancient poets represent those whom they introduce as speaking politically; but those of the present day, rhetorically. But the manners are, whatever shows what the deliberate choice is. Hence those speeches are without manners, in which there is altogether ® The rest of this chapter is condemned by Ritter as an interpolation.
9 The 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 eloguence, or the art of public speaking; every thing, in short, that concerned the well-being of a state.—See note 57. Twining.
12. Prvof, revolution and discovery cause most pleadiction.
19. Melopeia and spectacle, the latter least pertaining to art, 420 ARISTOTLE’S [cHAP. VA nothing that the speaker may choose or avoid'®. But sentiment is that through which they show that a cersc - κι diction 1s interpretation by the means of words, and which also has the same power in verse and prose. But of the remaining five, the melopeeia is the greatest of the embellishments. But the scenic decoration is alluring indeed; yet it is most inartificial, and is in the smallest degree akin to poetry. For the power of tragedy remains, even when unaccompanied with scenic apparatus and players. And further still, the art of the mechanic possesses more power in constructing the scenic apparatus than that of the poet. | On the Requisites and Length of Tragic Action.
Turse things being defined, let us in the next place show what the combination of the incidents ought to be, since this is the first and greatest part of tragedy. But it is granted to us, that tragedy is the imitation of a perfect and whole action, and of one which pos-_ sesses a certain magnitude; for there may be a whole which has no magnitude. But a whole is that which has a beginning, middle, and.end. And the beginning is that which necessarily is not itself posterior to another thing; but another thing is naturally expected to follow it. On the contrary, the end is that which is itself naturally adapted to be posterior to another thing, either from necessity, or for the most part; but after this there is nothing else, But the middle is that which is itself after another thing, and after which there is something else. Hence, it is necessary that those who compose fables properly, should neither 10 These words are differently placed in some editions.
CHAP. VII.} POETIC. 425 begin them casually, nor end the:n casually, but should employ the above-mentioned forms [of beginning, middle, and end]. Further still, since that which is 4. Magni.
beautiful, whether it be an animal, or any thing else tude and ig ee: order the which is composed frorn certain parts, ought not only constitu.
to have these parts arranged, but a magnitude also ents of which is not casual. For the beautiful consists in beauty.
magnitude and order. Hence, neither can any very small animal be beautiful; for the survey of it is confused, since it is effected in a time nearly insensible. Nor yet a very large animal; for it is not surveyed at once, but its subsistence as one and a whole escapes the view of the spectators; such as if, for instance, it should be an animal of ten thousand stadia in length. Hence, as in bodies and in animals 5. Magni it is necessary there should be magnitude; but such at ol as can easily be seen; thus also in fables, there to plots; should be length, but this such as can easily be re-_ membered’, The definition, however, of the length 6. Istly, with reference to contests* and the senses, does not ΕΝ fall under the consideration of art. For if it were hibitions.
requisite to perform a hundred tragedies, [as is said to have been the case more than once’, | the performance ought to be regulated by a clepsydra. But the 7. 2ndly, definition [of the length of the fable] according to the se to innature of the thing, is this, that the fable is always Value, more beautiful the greater it is, if at the same time it is perspicuous. Simply defining the thing, however, we may say, [that a fable has an appropriate magnitude, | when the time of its duration is such as to_ render it probable that there can be a transition from prosperous to adverse, or from adverse to prosperous ortune, according to the necessary or probabie order 1 The 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 tco extended, you may be said to have parts, but no whole: in Yery minute objects the whole, but no parts. Twining.
2 j. e. to its representation at the dramatic contests.
8 These words are condemned by Ritter.
1. On dramatic unity, 2. Previvious misconceptions on the subject.
3. Conduct of Homer.
4. Application of unity to the plot.
of things as they take place. This is a sufficient definition of magnitude, CHAP. VIII, On the Unity of the Fable.
TueE fable, however, is one, not as some suppose, if one person is the subject of it; for many things which are infinite in kind happen [to one manj, from a certain number of which no one event arises, Thus, also, there are many actions of one man, from which no one action is produced. Hence all those poets appear to have erred who have written the Heracleid, and Theseid, and such like poems. For they suppose that because Hercules was one person, it was fit that the fable should be one. Homer, however, as he excelled in other things, appears likewise to have seen this clearly, whether from art, or from nature. For in composing the Odyssey, he has not related every thing which happened to Ulysses; such as the being wounded in Parnassus!, and pretending to be insane? at the muster of the Greeks; one of which taking place, it was not necessary or probable that the other should happen; but he composed the Odyssey, as also his Iliad, upon one® action. It is requisite, therefore, that as in other imitative arts one imitation’ is the imitation of one thing, thus, 1 This 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. Twining.
2 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 oz 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, ete.) Twining.
* i. e. one imitative work. Thus ome picture represents, ὃ CHAP. IX.J; POETIC. 493 also, [in tragedy, ] the fable, since it is an imitation of action, should be the imitation of one action, and of the whole of this, and that the parts of the trans-_ actions should be so arranged, that.any one of them _ being transposed, or taken away, the whole would _ become different and changed. For that which when present or not present produces no sensible [difference], is not a part of the fable*, CHAP, IX.
On the difference between History and Poetry, and how historical matter should be used in Poetry.
Bor it is evident from what has been said, that it is 1. The not the province of a poet to relate things which poet does have happened, but such as might have happened, DotTelate and such things as are possible according to proba- events, bility, or which would necessarily have happened!. For an historian and ἃ poet do not differ from each 92, fortien other, because the one writes in verse and the other he would i clash with in prose; for the history of Herodotus might be he nistowritten in verse, and yet it would be no less a history rian.
should represent, but one thing;—a single object, or a single action, etc. 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 Φ person, as in the Theseids, etc., or to one time, as in the poem of Ariosto; or, by their resemblance merely, as in the Metamorphoses of Ovid. Twining.
5 “The painter will not inquire what things may be admitted without much censure. He will not think it enough to show that they may be there, he will show 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. Twining.
1 Cf. Sheridan’s Critic, vii. 1. ‘‘ What the plague! a play is not to show occurrences that happen every day, but thi just so strange, that though they never did, they might happen.”
2F with metre, than without metre. But they differ in this, that the one speaks of things which have happened, and the other of such.as might have happened. 3. Hence Hence, poetry is more philosophic, and more deservpoctry ing of attention, than history. For poetry speaks universa...and phi- -more of universals, but history of particulars, But losophic. universal consists indeed in relating or performing ΤΌΣ certain things which happen to a man of a certain universal description, either probably or necessarily, [to which and par- the aim of poetry is directed in giving names*;] but ticular, particular consists in narrating what, [for example, ] 5. Asis Alcibiades did, or what he suffered. In comedy, evident in therefore, this is. now become evident. For [comic comedy. oets] having composed a fable through things of a probable nature, they thus give whatever names they please® to their characters, and do not, like Iambic 6. Real poets, write poems about particular persons. But in names re- tragedy they cling to real names. ‘The cause, howmeg όσοι ever, of this is that the possible is credible. Things, ’ therefore, which have not yet been done, we do not yet believe to be possible; but it is evident that things which have been done are possible; for they would not have been done, if they were impossible. 7. putnot Not, indeed, but that in some tragedies there are one real or two of known names, and the rest are feigned; aay but in others there is no known name; as, forinstance, dora mamckov in the Flower of Agatho. For in this tragedy, the Se ( αὐλῷ. things and the names are alike feigned, and yet it ‘Sine 8.Nor delights no less. Hence, one must not seek to admustwe here entirely to traditional fables, which are the sub- ΡῈ jects of tragedy. For it is ridiculous to make this ourselves the object of search, because even known subjects are to tradi- known but toa few, though at the same time they tional fables.
3 Ritter well observes that the perspicuity of this otherwise clear passage is destroyed by this absurd interpolation.
3 Thus nearly all the names in the tragedies of Terence and Plautus, thus Dromo and Sosia are applied to slaves, Pamphilus to a lover, Glycerium or Philumena to a lady, Pyrgopolinices or Thraso to soldiers. Also the names in Petronius and Apuleius, as Pannychis, Meroe Fotis, etc. So Ben Jonson has personified the virtues and vices in ‘‘ Cynthia’s Revels,” and elsewhere.. = uae CHAP. IX.; °.PCETIC...ἐν delight all men. - From these things, therefore, it is 9. Hence evident that a poet.ought rather to be the author. the plot, f P th of fables than of metres, inasmuch as he is a poet fee vile rom imitation, and he imitates actions. Hence, metre, is though it should happen that he relates things which obs ace have. happened, he is no less a poet. For nothing | hinders but that some actions which have happened, are such as might both probably‘ and possibly have happened, and by [the narration of] such he is a poet.
But of simple plots and actions, the episodic are 10. Obtheworst. But I call the plot episodic, in which it is sock te, neither probable nor necessary thatthe episodes fnition follow each other, Such plots, however, are com- ἐν ΡΜ: 4 Τὸ may appear to the reader to be a strange observation, re that ‘‘ some true events May be probadle.’’ 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 penfect probability, that closer connexion 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. Aristotle alludes to these two lines of Agatho: Tay’ ἄν τις εἰκὸς αὐτὸ Tar’ εἶναι λέγοι, Βροτοῖσι πολλὰ τυγχάνειν ἐκ εἰκότα.
Even this, it may be said, is probable, That many things improbable should happen, In human life.— See Rhet. ii. 24, 10, and Bayle’s Dict. Art. AGaTHon, note [Fr], who mentions a similar maxim of St. Bernard’s: *‘ Ordinatissimum est, minus interdum ordinaté fieri.” “ Il est tout a fait de l’ordre, que de tems en tems il se- fasse quelque chose contre l’ordre.”’
This general, and, if I may call it so, possible sort of probability, may be termed, the probability of romance; and these lines of Agatho furnish a good apologetical motto for the novel writer. It might be prefixed, perhaps, without impropriety, even to the best productions of the kind—to a CLarissa, or a Crecit1a. Nothing is so commonly complained of in such works, as their improbability; and often, no doubt, the complaint is well-founded: often, however, the criticism mcans nothing more, than that the events are uncommon, ard proves nothing more, than the want of fancy, and an extended view of human life, ip. the reader. If the events were not uncommon, where would the book find Pace Twining.
finition of the terrible.
chance circumstances, 1, Of fables simple and complex, posed by bad poets indeed, through their own want of ability5; but by good poets, on account of the players®. For, introducing [dramatic] contests, and extending the plot beyond its capabilities, they are frequently compelled to distort the connexion of the parts. But, since tragedy is not only an imitation of a perfect action, but also of actions which are terrible and piteous, and actions principally become such, [and in a greater degree, when they happen contrary to opinion,’] on account of each other. * * * * For thus they will possess more of the marvellous, than if they happened from chance and fortune; since, also, of things which are from fortune, those appear to be most admirable, which seem to happen as it were by design. Thus the statue of Mityus at Argos, killed him who was the cause of the death of Mityus by falling as he was surveying it. For such events as these seem not to take place casually. Hence it is necessary that fables of this kind should be more beautiful. ) Fables either simple or compound.
Or fables, however, some are simple, and others complex; for so also are the actions of which fables are the imitations. But I call the action simple, a en ee 5 Such is the sense of δι᾽ adrods=“ propter ingenii tarditatem.”’ Ritter.
6 i. 6. that the play may not show off only one actor. Thus a modern dramatist writes a play for Charles Kean, and puts in a few episodes for Buckstone or Keeley. It is clear from this that plays were often written to suit particular performers.
7 These words are condemned as interpolated. But the apodosis to the whole sentence is wanting, and I have therefore marked the lacuna with Ritter.
* A similar story of the death of a cruel beloved being killed by the falling of a statue of Cupid, is told by Theocritus, Id xxiii. sub fin.
CHAP. XIe| POETIC. 42, from which taking place, as it has been defined, with continuity and unity, there is a transition without either revolution or discovery; but complex, from which there is a transition, together with discovery, or revolution, or both. It is necessary, however, that these should be effected from the composition itself of the fable, so that from what has formerly happened it may come to pass that the same things take place either necessarily or probably. For it makes a great difference whether these things are effected on account of these, or after these.
oe + Gre hewmt Now, revolution is a mutation, as has been stated, of actions into a contrary condition; and this, as we say, according to the probable, or the necessary. Thus in the “ Cidipus,'” the messenger who comes with an intention of delighting Gidipus and liberating him from his fear respecting his mother, when he makes himself known, produces a contrary effect. Thus, too, in the “ Lynceus,” he indeed is introduced as one who is to die, and Danaus follows with an intention of killing him; but it happens from the course of incidents, that Lynceus is saved, and Danaus is slain. And discovery is, as the name signifies, a change from ignorance to knowledge, or into the friendship or hatred of those who are destined to prosperous or adverse fortune. The discovery, however, is most beautiful, when at the same time there are, as in the “ (Edipus,?” revolutions. There are, therefore, other discoveries also. For sometimes it happens, as has been before observed, that there are discoveries of things inanimate, and casual; or if some one has 1 Cf. Soph. Géd. Tyr. 1014, sqq. Dind. 3 Such is the discovery of Joseph by his brethren, Gen. xlv. —the most beautiful and affecting example that can be given.
Twining. # I do not understand Aristotle to be here speaking of such Aad 1, Definition of ree _ volution; 2. of discovery.
3. Other recognitions.
δ.
- 422 ἈΒΙΒΙΌΟΤΙΕΕΒ ἔσαν. xi Larolis>,sttanlef performed, or has not performéd, a thing, there is a recognition of it; but the discovery which especially ' pertains to the fable and the action is that before 4. Feelings excited by revolution and discovery.
δ. Different discoveries.
6. The third re- ‘quisite is pathos or disaster.
mentioned. For a discovery and revolution of this kind will excite either pity or fear; and tragedy is supposed to be an imitation of such actions [as excite ‘fear and pity}. Again, it will happen that infelicity and felicity will be in such like discoveries. But since diseovery is a discovery of certain persons, some [discoveries] are of one person only with reference to another, when it is evident who the other person is, but sometimes it is necessary to discover both persons. _Thus Iphigenia was recognised by Orestes through the sending an epistle*; but another discovery was requisite to his being known by Iphigenia®. [| 'Two parts of the fable, therefore, viz. revolution and diseovery, are conversant with these things; but the third part is pathos. And of these, revolution and discovery have been already discussed. Pathos, however, is an action destructive, or lamentable; such as death when it is obvious, grievous pains, -wounds, and such like particulars®.].