Pity and Fear Should Come from the Plot

Fear and pity may be aroused by spectacular means; but they may also result from the inner structure of the piece, which is the better way, and indicates a superior poet. For the plot ought to be so constructed that, even without the aid of the eye, he who hears the tale told will thrill with horror and melt to pity at what takes place. This is the impression we should receive from hearing the story of the Oedipus. But to produce this effect by the mere spectacle is a less artistic method, and dependent on extraneous aids. Those who employ spectacular means to create a sense not of the terrible but only of the monstrous, are strangers to the purpose of Tragedy; for we must not demand of Tragedy any and every kind of pleasure, but only that which is proper to it. And since the pleasure which the poet should afford is that which comes from pity and fear through imitation, it is evident that this quality must be impressed upon the incidents.

Fear and pity may be aroused by spectacle. But they may also arise from the structure of the play itself. This is the better way and shows greater skill in the poet. The plot should be constructed so that, even without seeing it, a listener feels horror and pity at what happens. We should feel this way on hearing the story of Oedipus. But producing this effect through spectacle alone is less artistic and depends on outside aids. Those who use spectacle to create a sense of the monstrous rather than the terrible do not understand tragedy’s purpose. We must not demand every kind of pleasure from tragedy, but only the pleasure proper to it. The poet should provide the pleasure that comes from pity and fear through imitation. Clearly, then, this quality must be built into the events of the plot.

Let us then determine what are the circumstances which strike us as terrible or pitiful.

Let us then consider what circumstances seem terrible or pitiful to us.

Actions capable of this effect must happen between persons who are either friends or enemies or indifferent to one another. If an enemy kills an enemy, there is nothing to excite pity either in the act or the intention,—except so far as the suffering in itself is pitiful. So again with indifferent persons. But when the tragic incident occurs between those who are near or dear to one another—if, for example, a brother kills, or intends to kill, a brother, a son his father, a mother her son, a son his mother, or any other deed of the kind is done—these are the situations to be looked for by the poet. He may not indeed destroy the framework of the received legends—the fact, for instance, that Clytemnestra was slain by Orestes and Eriphyle by Alcmaeon but he ought to show invention of his own, and skilfully handle the traditional material. Let us explain more clearly what is meant by skilful handling.

Actions capable of producing this effect must happen between friends, enemies, or people who feel indifferent toward one another. If an enemy kills an enemy, neither the act nor the intention arouses pity, except insofar as the suffering itself is pitiful. The same is true of people who feel indifferent toward one another. But tragic incidents can happen between people who are close or dear to one another. A brother may kill or intend to kill a brother, a son his father, a mother her son, or a son his mother. The poet should look for situations like these, or other similar deeds. The poet must not change the basic structure of the traditional legends. For example, Orestes killed Clytemnestra, and Alcmaeon killed Eriphyle. But the poet should show his own invention and handle the traditional material skillfully. Let us explain more clearly what skillful handling means.

The action may be done consciously and with knowledge of the persons, in the manner of the older poets. It is thus too that Euripides makes Medea slay her children. Or, again, the deed of horror may be done, but done in ignorance, and the tie of kinship or friendship be discovered afterwards. The Oedipus of Sophocles is an example. Here, indeed, the incident is outside the drama proper; but cases occur where it falls within the action of the play: one may cite the Alcmaeon of Astydamas, or Telegonus in the Wounded Odysseus. Again, there is a third case,— (to be about to act with knowledge of the persons and then not to act. The fourth case is) when some one is about to do an irreparable deed through ignorance, and makes the discovery before it is done. These are the only possible ways. For the deed must either be done or not done,—and that wittingly or unwittingly. But of all these ways, to be about to act knowing the persons, and then not to act, is the worst. It is shocking without being tragic, for no disaster follows. It is, therefore, never, or very rarely, found in poetry. One instance, however, is in the Antigone, where Haemon threatens to kill Creon. The next and better way is that the deed should be perpetrated. Still better, that it should be perpetrated in ignorance, and the discovery made afterwards. There is then nothing to shock us, while the discovery produces a startling effect. The last case is the best, as when in the Cresphontes Merope is about to slay her son, but, recognising who he is, spares his life. So in the Iphigenia, the sister recognises the brother just in time. Again in the Helle, the son recognises the mother when on the point of giving her up. This, then, is why a few families only, as has been already observed, furnish the subjects of tragedy. It was not art, but happy chance, that led the poets in search of subjects to impress the tragic quality upon their plots. They are compelled, therefore, to have recourse to those houses whose history contains moving incidents like these.

The action may be carried out knowingly, with full awareness of who the people involved are, as in the older poets. This is how Euripides makes Medea kill her children. Or the terrible deed may be done in ignorance, with the bond of kinship or friendship discovered afterward. Sophocles’ Oedipus is an example. In that case, the incident occurs outside the play itself. But sometimes it occurs within the action of the play, as in Astydamas’ Alcmaeon or with Telegonus in the Wounded Odysseus. In a third case, someone is about to act knowing who the people involved are, but then does not act. In the fourth, someone is about to do an irreparable deed in ignorance, but discovers the truth before doing it. These are the only possibilities. The deed must either be done or not done, and in either case knowingly or unknowingly. Of all these possibilities, the worst is to be about to act knowingly and then not act. This is shocking without being tragic, because no disaster follows. It is therefore never, or very rarely, found in poetry. One example, however, is in the Antigone, where Haemon threatens to kill Creon. The next and better way is for the deed to be done. Still better is for it to be done in ignorance, with the truth discovered afterward. Then there is nothing to shock us, while the discovery has a startling effect. The last case is the best. In the Cresphontes, for example, Merope is about to kill her son, but recognizes him and spares his life. Similarly, in the Iphigenia, the sister recognizes her brother just in time. Again, in the Helle, the son recognizes his mother just as he is about to give her up. This, then, is why, as already noted, only a few families provide the subjects of tragedy. It was not art but good fortune that led poets looking for subjects to give their plots this tragic quality. They are therefore compelled to turn to those families whose histories contain moving incidents of this kind.

Enough has now been said concerning the structure of the incidents, and the right kind of plot.

Enough has now been said about how to arrange the events and what makes a good plot.