How Epic Poetry Differs from Tragedy

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 must also have as many kinds as tragedy. An epic must be simple, complex, 'ethical,' or 'pathetic.' Its parts are also the same, except for song and spectacle. An epic requires reversals of the situation, recognitions, and scenes of suffering. Its thought and language must also be artistic. In all these respects, Homer is our earliest and sufficient model. Each of his poems has two qualities. The Iliad is both simple and 'pathetic.' The Odyssey is complex, because recognition scenes run throughout it, and it is also 'ethical.' Both poems are also supreme in language and thought.

Epic poetry differs from Tragedy in the scale on which it is constructed, and in its metre. 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 differs from tragedy in its length and meter. We have already set an adequate limit on its length: the beginning and end must be possible to grasp together. This condition will be met by poems shorter than the old epics and about as long as a group of tragedies presented in one 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.

Epic poetry, however, has a special ability to expand in scope, and the reason is clear. In tragedy, we cannot portray several lines of action happening at the same time. We must limit ourselves to what happens on stage and what the actors do. But because epic poetry tells a story, it can present many events happening at once. If these events are relevant to the subject, they give the poem greater scope and dignity. This advantage gives epic poetry a grander effect, engages the listener, and adds variety through different episodes. For repeated incidents soon become tiresome and cause tragedies to fail on stage.

As for the metre, the heroic measure has proved its fitness by the test of experience. If a narrative poem in any other metre or in many metres 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 metres, 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.

As for meter, experience has shown that heroic verse is well suited to narrative poetry. If a narrative poem were composed today in any other meter, or in several meters, it would seem unsuitable. Of all meters, heroic verse is the most stately and weighty. It therefore accommodates rare words and metaphors most easily. This is another respect in which narrative imitation stands apart. By contrast, iambic meter and trochaic tetrameter are lively meters. Trochaic tetrameter is suited to dancing, while iambic meter expresses action. It would be even more absurd to mix different meters, as Chaeremon did. For this reason, no one has ever composed a large-scale poem in anything other than heroic verse. As we have said, nature herself teaches us to choose the proper meter.

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.

Homer is admirable in every respect. His special merit is that he alone among poets properly understands the role he should play himself. The poet should speak as little as possible in his own voice, because speaking in his own voice does not make him an imitator. Other poets speak in their own voices throughout, and imitate only a little and rarely. Homer, after a few opening words, immediately introduces a man, a woman, or another character. Each has distinctive qualities and a character of their 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 pursuit 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 own, 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.

Tragedy requires an element of wonder. The irrational, which produces the strongest effects of wonder, has more scope in epic poetry. This is because the person acting is not seen. For example, the pursuit of Hector would be ridiculous on stage. The Greeks would stand still instead of joining the pursuit, while Achilles waved them back. But in an epic poem, the absurdity goes unnoticed. Wonder is pleasing, as we can see from the fact that everyone adds something when telling a story. Everyone knows that listeners like these additions. Homer, above all, taught other poets how to tell lies skillfully. The secret lies in a false inference. Suppose that if one thing is or happens, a second thing is or happens. People then imagine that if the second thing is true, the first must also be true. But this inference is false. So, if the first thing is untrue but the second is true, there is no need to say that the first is or has happened. The mind knows the second thing is true and falsely infers that the first is true too. The Bath Scene in the Odyssey provides an example.

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.

A poet should therefore prefer impossible events that seem likely to possible events that seem unlikely. A tragic plot must not contain irrational elements. If possible, everything irrational should be excluded. At the very least, it should lie outside the action of the play. In Oedipus, for example, the hero does not know how Laius died. Irrational elements should not occur within the drama. They do, for example, in the messenger’s account of the Pythian games in Electra. They also appear in the Mysians, where a man who has come from Tegea to Mysia is still speechless. It is ridiculous to argue that the plot would otherwise have been ruined. Such a plot should never have been constructed in the first place. But once an irrational element has been introduced and made to seem likely, we must accept it despite its absurdity. Consider even the irrational events in the Odyssey, when Odysseus is left on the shore of Ithaca. If a lesser poet had treated the subject, we would see how unbearable even these events could have been. As it is, the poet’s charm hides their absurdity.

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.

Use elaborate language during pauses in the action, when neither character nor thought is being expressed. Conversely, overly brilliant language only obscures character and thought.