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.
Let us then determine what are the
circumstances which strike us as terrible or pitiful.
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.
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.
Enough has now been said concerning
the structure of the incidents, and the right kind
of plot.