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  we read,

  diphron mochtheron katatheis mikran te trapezan.

  Setting a wretched couch and a puny table.

  Or, for eiones booosin, 'the sea shores roar,' eiones krazousin,

  'the sea shores screech.'

  Again, Ariphrades ridiculed the tragedians for using phrases which

  no one would employ in ordinary speech: for example, domaton apo,

  'from the house away,' instead of apo domaton, 'away from the

  house;' sethen, ego de nin, 'to thee, and I to him;' Achilleos peri,

  'Achilles about,' instead of peri Achilleos, 'about Achilles;' and the

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

  idiom that they give distinction to the style. This, however, he

  failed to see.

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

  of expression, as also in compound words, strange (or rare) words, and

  so forth. But the greatest thing by far is to have a command of

  metaphor. This alone cannot be imparted by another; it is the mark

  of genius, for to make good metaphors implies an eye for resemblances.

  Of the various kinds of words, the compound are best adapted to

  dithyrambs, rare words to heroic poetry, metaphors to iambic. In

  heroic poetry, indeed, all these varieties are serviceable. But in

  iambic verse, which reproduces, as far as may be, familiar speech, the

  most appropriate words are those which are found even in prose.

  These are the current or proper, the metaphorical, the ornamental.

  Concerning Tragedy and imitation by means of action this may

  suffice.

  POETICS|23

  XXIII

  As to that poetic imitation which is narrative in form and employs a

  single meter, the plot manifestly ought, as in a tragedy, to be

  constructed on dramatic principles. It should have for its subject a

  single action, whole and complete, with a beginning, a middle, and

  an end. It will thus resemble a living organism in all its unity,

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

  from historical compositions, which of necessity present not a

  single action, but a single period, and all that happened within

  that period to one person or to many, little connected together as the

  events may be. For as the sea-fight at Salamis and the battle with the

  Carthaginians in Sicily took place at the same time, but did not

  tend to any one result, so in the sequence of events, one thing

  sometimes follows another, and yet no single result is thereby

  produced. Such is the practice, we may say, of most poets. Here again,

  then, as has been already observed, the transcendent excellence of

  Homer is manifest. He never attempts to make the whole war of Troy the

  subject of his poem, though that war had a beginning and an end. It

  would have been too vast a theme, and not easily embraced in a

  single view. If, again, he had kept it within moderate limits, it must

  have been over-complicated by the variety of the incidents. As it

  is, he detaches a single portion, and admits as episodes many events

  from the general story of the war- such as the Catalogue of the

  ships and others- thus diversifying the poem. All other poets take a

  single hero, a single period, or an action single indeed, but with a

  multiplicity of parts. Thus did the author of the Cypria and of the

  Little Iliad. For this reason the Iliad and the Odyssey each furnish

  the subject of one tragedy, or, at most, of two; while the Cypria

  supplies materials for many, and the Little Iliad for eight- the Award

  of the Arms, the Philoctetes, the Neoptolemus, the Eurypylus, the

  Mendicant Odysseus, the Laconian Women, the Fall of Ilium, the

  Departure of the Fleet.

  POETICS|24

  XXIV

  Again, Epic poetry must have as many kinds as Tragedy: it must be

  simple, or complex, or 'ethical,'or 'pathetic.' The parts also, with

  the exception of song and spectacle, are the same; for it requires

  Reversals of the Situation, Recognitions, and Scenes of Suffering.

  Moreover, the thoughts and the diction must be artistic. In all

  these respects Homer is our earliest and sufficient model. Indeed each

  of his poems has a twofold character. The Iliad is at once simple

  and 'pathetic,' and the Odyssey complex (for Recognition scenes run

  through it), and at the same time 'ethical.' Moreover, in diction

  and thought they are supreme.

  Epic poetry differs from Tragedy in the scale on which it is

  constructed, and in its meter. As regards scale or length, we have

  already laid down an adequate limit: the beginning and the end must be

  capable of being brought within a single view. This condition will

  be satisfied by poems on a smaller scale than the old epics, and

  answering in length to the group of tragedies presented at a single

  sitting.

  Epic poetry has, however, a great- a special- capacity for enlarging

  its dimensions, and we can see the reason. In Tragedy we cannot

  imitate several lines of actions carried on at one and the same

  time; we must confine ourselves to the action on the stage and the

  part taken by the players. But in Epic poetry, owing to the

  narrative form, many events simultaneously transacted can be

  presented; and these, if relevant to the subject, add mass and dignity

  to the poem. The Epic has here an advantage, and one that conduces

  to grandeur of effect, to diverting the mind of the hearer, and

  relieving the story with varying episodes. For sameness of incident

  soon produces satiety, and makes tragedies fail on the stage.

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

  hexameter test of experience. If a narrative poem in any other meter

  or in many meters were now composed, it would be found incongruous.

  For of all measures the heroic is the stateliest and the most massive;

  and hence it most readily admits rare words and metaphors, which is

  another point in which the narrative form of imitation stands alone.

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

  measures, the latter being akin to dancing, the former expressive of

  action. Still more absurd would it be to mix together different

  meters, as was done by Chaeremon. Hence no one has ever composed a

  poem on a great scale in any other than heroic verse. Nature herself,

  as we have said, teaches the choice of the proper measure.

  Homer, admirable in all respects, has the special merit of being the

  only poet who rightly appreciates the part he should take himself. The

  poet should speak as little as possible in his own person, for it is

  not this that makes him an imitator. Other poets appear themselves

  upon the scene throughout, and imitate but little and rarely. Homer,

  after a few prefatory words, at once brings in a man, or woman, or

  other personage; none of them wanting in characteristic qualities, but

  each with a character of his own.

  The element of the wonderful is required in Tragedy. The irrational,

  on which the wonderful depends for its chief effects, has wider

  scope in Epic poetry, because there the person acting is not seen.

  Thus, the pu
rsuit of Hector would be ludicrous if placed upon the

  stage- the Greeks standing still and not joining in the pursuit, and

  Achilles waving them back. But in the Epic poem the absurdity passes

  unnoticed. Now the wonderful is pleasing, as may be inferred from

  the fact that every one tells a story with some addition of his

  knowing that his hearers like it. It is Homer who has chiefly taught

  other poets the art of telling lies skilfully. The secret of it lies

  in a fallacy For, assuming that if one thing is or becomes, a second

  is or becomes, men imagine that, if the second is, the first

  likewise is or becomes. But this is a false inference. Hence, where

  the first thing is untrue, it is quite unnecessary, provided the

  second be true, to add that the first is or has become. For the

  mind, knowing the second to be true, falsely infers the truth of the

  first. There is an example of this in the Bath Scene of the Odyssey.

  Accordingly, the poet should prefer probable impossibilities to

  improbable possibilities. The tragic plot must not be composed of

  irrational parts. Everything irrational should, if possible, be

  excluded; or, at all events, it should lie outside the action of the

  play (as, in the Oedipus, the hero's ignorance as to the manner of

  Laius' death); not within the drama- as in the Electra, the

  messenger's account of the Pythian games; or, as in the Mysians, the

  man who has come from Tegea to Mysia and is still speechless. The plea

  that otherwise the plot would have been ruined, is ridiculous; such

  a plot should not in the first instance be constructed. But once the

  irrational has been introduced and an air of likelihood imparted to

  it, we must accept it in spite of the absurdity. Take even the

  irrational incidents in the Odyssey, where Odysseus is left upon the

  shore of Ithaca. How intolerable even these might have been would be

  apparent if an inferior poet were to treat the subject. As it is,

  the absurdity is veiled by the poetic charm with which the poet

  invests it.

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

  where there is no expression of character or thought. For, conversely,

  character and thought are merely obscured by a diction that is

  over-brilliant

  POETICS|25

  XXV

  With respect to critical difficulties and their solutions, the

  number and nature of the sources from which they may be drawn may be

  thus exhibited.

  The poet being an imitator, like a painter or any other artist, must

  of necessity imitate one of three objects- things as they were or are,

  things as they are said or thought to be, or things as they ought to

  be. The vehicle of expression is language- either current terms or, it

  may be, rare words or metaphors. There are also many modifications

  of language, which we concede to the poets. Add to this, that the

  standard of correctness is not the same in poetry and politics, any

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

  there are two kinds of faults- those which touch its essence, and

  those which are accidental. If a poet has chosen to imitate something,

  [but has imitated it incorrectly] through want of capacity, the

  error is inherent in the poetry. But if the failure is due to a

  wrong choice- if he has represented a horse as throwing out both his

  off legs at once, or introduced technical inaccuracies in medicine,

  for example, or in any other art- the error is not essential to the

  poetry. These are the points of view from which we should consider and

  answer the objections raised by the critics.

  First as to matters which concern the poet's own art. If he

  describes the impossible, he is guilty of an error; but the error

  may be justified, if the end of the art be thereby attained (the end

  being that already mentioned)- if, that is, the effect of this or

  any other part of the poem is thus rendered more striking. A case in

  point is the pursuit of Hector. if, however, the end might have been

  as well, or better, attained without violating the special rules of

  the poetic art, the error is not justified: for every kind of error

  should, if possible, be avoided.

  Again, does the error touch the essentials of the poetic art, or

  some accident of it? For example, not to know that a hind has no horns

  is a less serious matter than to paint it inartistically.

  Further, if it be objected that the description is not true to fact,

  the poet may perhaps reply, 'But the objects are as they ought to be';

  just as Sophocles said that he drew men as they ought to be;

  Euripides, as they are. In this way the objection may be met. If,

  however, the representation be of neither kind, the poet may answer,

  'This is how men say the thing is.' applies to tales about the gods.

  It may well be that these stories are not higher than fact nor yet

  true to fact: they are, very possibly, what Xenophanes says of them.

  But anyhow, 'this is what is said.' Again, a description may be no

  better than the fact: 'Still, it was the fact'; as in the passage

  about the arms: 'Upright upon their butt-ends stood the spears.'

  This was the custom then, as it now is among the Illyrians.

  Again, in examining whether what has been said or done by some

  one is poetically right or not, we must not look merely to the

  particular act or saying, and ask whether it is poetically good or

  bad. We must also consider by whom it is said or done, to whom,

  when, by what means, or for what end; whether, for instance, it be

  to secure a greater good, or avert a greater evil.

  Other difficulties may be resolved by due regard to the usage of

  language. We may note a rare word, as in oureas men proton, 'the mules

  first [he killed],' where the poet perhaps employs oureas not in the

  sense of mules, but of sentinels. So, again, of Dolon: 'ill-favored

  indeed he was to look upon.' It is not meant that his body was

  ill-shaped but that his face was ugly; for the Cretans use the word

  eueides, 'well-flavored' to denote a fair face. Again, zoroteron de

  keraie, 'mix the drink livelier' does not mean 'mix it stronger' as

  for hard drinkers, but 'mix it quicker.'

  Sometimes an expression is metaphorical, as 'Now all gods and men

  were sleeping through the night,' while at the same time the poet

  says: 'Often indeed as he turned his gaze to the Trojan plain, he

  marveled at the sound of flutes and pipes.' 'All' is here used

  metaphorically for 'many,' all being a species of many. So in the

  verse, 'alone she hath no part... , oie, 'alone' is metaphorical;

  for the best known may be called the only one.

  Again, the solution may depend upon accent or breathing. Thus

  Hippias of Thasos solved the difficulties in the lines, didomen

  (didomen) de hoi, and to men hou (ou) kataputhetai ombro.

  Or again, the question may be solved by punctuation, as in

  Empedocles: 'Of a sudden things became mortal that before had learnt

  to be immortal, and things unmixed before mixed.'

  Or again, by ambiguity of meaning, as parocheken de pleo nux,

  where the word
pleo is ambiguous.

  Or by the usage of language. Thus any mixed drink is called oinos,

  'wine'. Hence Ganymede is said 'to pour the wine to Zeus,' though

  the gods do not drink wine. So too workers in iron are called

  chalkeas, or 'workers in bronze.' This, however, may also be taken

  as a metaphor.

  Again, when a word seems to involve some inconsistency of meaning,

  we should consider how many senses it may bear in the particular

  passage. For example: 'there was stayed the spear of bronze'- we

  should ask in how many ways we may take 'being checked there.' The

  true mode of interpretation is the precise opposite of what Glaucon

  mentions. Critics, he says, jump at certain groundless conclusions;

  they pass adverse judgement and then proceed to reason on it; and,

  assuming that the poet has said whatever they happen to think, find

  fault if a thing is inconsistent with their own fancy.

  The question about Icarius has been treated in this fashion. The

  critics imagine he was a Lacedaemonian. They think it strange,

  therefore, that Telemachus should not have met him when he went to

  Lacedaemon. But the Cephallenian story may perhaps be the true one.

  They allege that Odysseus took a wife from among themselves, and

  that her father was Icadius, not Icarius. It is merely a mistake,

  then, that gives plausibility to the objection.

  In general, the impossible must be justified by reference to

  artistic requirements, or to the higher reality, or to received

  opinion. With respect to the requirements of art, a probable

  impossibility is to be preferred to a thing improbable and yet

  possible. Again, it may be impossible that there should be men such as

  Zeuxis painted. 'Yes,' we say, 'but the impossible is the higher

  thing; for the ideal type must surpass the realty.' To justify the

  irrational, we appeal to what is commonly said to be. In addition to