More Rules for Tragic Poets

Every tragedy falls into two parts,—Complication and Unravelling or Denouement. Incidents extraneous to the action are frequently combined with a portion of the action proper, to form the Complication; the rest is the Unravelling. By the Complication I mean all that extends from the beginning of the action to the part which marks the turning-point to good or bad fortune. The Unravelling is that which extends from the beginning of the change to the end. Thus, in the Lynceus of Theodectes, the Complication consists of the incidents presupposed in the drama, the seizure of the child, and then again, The Unravelling extends from the accusation of murder to the end.

Every tragedy has two parts: the Complication and the Unravelling, or Denouement. The Complication often combines events outside the action with part of the action itself. The rest is the Unravelling. By Complication, I mean everything from the beginning of the action to the turning point toward good or bad fortune. The Unravelling extends from the beginning of that change to the end. For example, in the Lynceus of Theodectes, the Complication consists of the events assumed to have happened before the drama, the seizure of the child, and then again, the Unravelling extends from the accusation of murder to the end.

There are four kinds of Tragedy, the Complex, depending entirely on Reversal of the Situation and Recognition; the Pathetic (where the motive is passion),—such as the tragedies on Ajax and Ixion; the Ethical (where the motives are ethical),—such as the Phthiotides and the Peleus. The fourth kind is the Simple (We here exclude the purely spectacular element), exemplified by the Phorcides, the Prometheus, and scenes laid in Hades. The poet should endeavour, if possible, to combine all poetic elements; or failing that, the greatest number and those the most important; the more so, in face of the cavilling criticism of the day. For whereas there have hitherto been good poets, each in his own branch, the critics now expect one man to surpass all others in their several lines of excellence.

There are four kinds of tragedy. The Complex depends entirely on reversal of the situation and recognition. The Pathetic is driven by passion, as in the tragedies about Ajax and Ixion. The Ethical is driven by ethical motives, as in the Phthiotides and the Peleus. The fourth kind is the Simple, as in the Phorcides, the Prometheus, and scenes set in Hades. (We exclude the purely spectacular element here.) The poet should try to combine all poetic elements, if possible. Failing that, the poet should combine as many as possible, including the most important. This is especially important given the petty criticism of the day. Until now, good poets have each excelled in their own branch. But critics now expect one poet to surpass all the others in their different areas of excellence.

In speaking of a tragedy as the same or different, the best test to take is the plot. Identity exists where the Complication and Unravelling are the same. Many poets tie the knot well, but unravel it ill. Both arts, however, should always be mastered.

The best way to judge whether tragedies are the same or different is by their plots. Tragedies are the same when their complications and resolutions are the same. Many poets create the complications well but resolve them poorly. Poets should always master both skills.

Again, the poet should remember what has been often said, and not make an Epic structure into a Tragedy—by an Epic structure I mean one with a multiplicity of plots—as if, for instance, you were to make a tragedy out of the entire story of the Iliad. In the Epic poem, owing to its length, each part assumes its proper magnitude. In the drama the result is far from answering to the poet's expectation. The proof is that the poets who have dramatised the whole story of the Fall of Troy, instead of selecting portions, like Euripides; or who have taken the whole tale of Niobe, and not a part of her story, like Aeschylus, either fail utterly or meet with poor success on the stage. Even Agathon has been known to fail from this one defect. In his Reversals of the Situation, however, he shows a marvellous skill in the effort to hit the popular taste,—to produce a tragic effect that satisfies the moral sense. This effect is produced when the clever rogue, like Sisyphus, is outwitted, or the brave villain defeated. Such an event is probable in Agathon's sense of the word: 'it is probable,' he says, 'that many things should happen contrary to probability.'

Again, the poet should remember a point often made: do not give a Tragedy the structure of an Epic. By an Epic structure, I mean one with many plots. That would be like making a tragedy out of the entire story of the Iliad. An Epic poem is long enough for each part to have its proper size. In drama, however, the result falls far short of what the poet expects. The evidence is clear. Some poets have dramatized the whole story of the Fall of Troy, instead of choosing parts, as Euripides did. Others have used the whole tale of Niobe, rather than part of her story, as Aeschylus did. Such poets either fail completely or have little success on stage. Even Agathon has sometimes failed because of this one flaw. In his Reversals of the Situation, however, Agathon shows remarkable skill in trying to please the audience. He aims to create a tragic effect that satisfies the moral sense. This happens when a clever rogue, like Sisyphus, is outwitted, or a brave villain is defeated. Such an event is probable in Agathon's sense of the word: 'it is probable,' he says, 'that many things should happen contrary to probability.'

The Chorus too should be regarded as one of the actors; it should be an integral part of the whole, and share in the action, in the manner not of Euripides but of Sophocles. As for the later poets, their choral songs pertain as little to the subject of the piece as to that of any other tragedy. They are, therefore, sung as mere interludes, a practice first begun by Agathon. Yet what difference is there between introducing such choral interludes, and transferring a speech, or even a whole act, from one play to another?

The Chorus should also be treated as one of the actors. It should be an essential part of the whole and take part in the action, as in Sophocles rather than Euripides. In the works of later poets, the choral songs have no more to do with the subject of the play than with that of any other tragedy. They are therefore sung as mere interludes, a practice Agathon began. But what is the difference between adding such choral interludes and transferring a speech, or even a whole act, from one play to another?