by Aristotle
   fist. These elements have been employed, we may say, by the poets to a
   man; in fact, every play contains Spectacular elements as well as
   Character, Plot, Diction, Song, and Thought.
   But most important of all is the structure of the incidents. For
   Tragedy is an imitation, not of men, but of an action and of life, and
   life consists in action, and its end is a mode of action, not a
   quality. Now character determines men's qualities, but it is by
   their actions that they are happy or the reverse. Dramatic action,
   therefore, is not with a view to the representation of character:
   character comes in as subsidiary to the actions. Hence the incidents
   and the plot are the end of a tragedy; and the end is the chief
   thing of all. Again, without action there cannot be a tragedy; there
   may be without character. The tragedies of most of our modern poets
   fail in the rendering of character; and of poets in general this is
   often true. It is the same in painting; and here lies the difference
   between Zeuxis and Polygnotus. Polygnotus delineates character well;
   the style of Zeuxis is devoid of ethical quality. Again, if you string
   together a set of speeches expressive of character, and well
   finished in point of diction and thought, you will not produce the
   essential tragic effect nearly so well as with a play which, however
   deficient in these respects, yet has a plot and artistically
   constructed incidents. Besides which, the most powerful elements of
   emotional interest in Tragedy- Peripeteia or Reversal of the
   Situation, and Recognition scenes- are parts of the plot. A further
   proof is, that novices in the art attain to finish of diction and
   precision of portraiture before they can construct the plot. It is the
   same with almost all the early poets.
   The plot, then, is the first principle, and, as it were, the soul of
   a tragedy; Character holds the second place. A similar fact is seen in
   painting. The most beautiful colors, laid on confusedly, will not give
   as much pleasure as the chalk outline of a portrait. Thus Tragedy is
   the imitation of an action, and of the agents mainly with a view to
   the action.
   Third in order is Thought- that is, the faculty of saying what is
   possible and pertinent in given circumstances. In the case of oratory,
   this is the function of the political art and of the art of
   rhetoric: and so indeed the older poets make their characters speak
   the language of civic life; the poets of our time, the language of the
   rhetoricians. Character is that which reveals moral purpose, showing
   what kind of things a man chooses or avoids. Speeches, therefore,
   which do not make this manifest, or in which the speaker does not
   choose or avoid anything whatever, are not expressive of character.
   Thought, on the other hand, is found where something is proved to be
   or not to be, or a general maxim is enunciated.
   Fourth among the elements enumerated comes Diction; by which I mean,
   as has been already said, the expression of the meaning in words;
   and its essence is the same both in verse and prose.
   Of the remaining elements Song holds the chief place among the
   embellishments
   The Spectacle has, indeed, an emotional attraction of its own,
   but, of all the parts, it is the least artistic, and connected least
   with the art of poetry. For the power of Tragedy, we may be sure, is
   felt even apart from representation and actors. Besides, the
   production of spectacular effects depends more on the art of the stage
   machinist than on that of the poet.
   POETICS|7
   VII
   These principles being established, let us now discuss the proper
   structure of the Plot, since this is the first and most important
   thing in Tragedy.
   Now, according to our definition Tragedy is an imitation of an
   action that is complete, and whole, and of a certain magnitude; for
   there may be a whole that is wanting in magnitude. A whole is that
   which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning is that which
   does not itself follow anything by causal necessity, but after which
   something naturally is or comes to be. An end, on the contrary, is
   that which itself naturally follows some other thing, either by
   necessity, or as a rule, but has nothing following it. A middle is
   that which follows something as some other thing follows it. A well
   constructed plot, therefore, must neither begin nor end at
   haphazard, but conform to these principles.
   Again, a beautiful object, whether it be a living organism or any
   whole composed of parts, must not only have an orderly arrangement
   of parts, but must also be of a certain magnitude; for beauty
   depends on magnitude and order. Hence a very small animal organism
   cannot be beautiful; for the view of it is confused, the object
   being seen in an almost imperceptible moment of time. Nor, again,
   can one of vast size be beautiful; for as the eye cannot take it all
   in at once, the unity and sense of the whole is lost for the
   spectator; as for instance if there were one a thousand miles long.
   As, therefore, in the case of animate bodies and organisms a certain
   magnitude is necessary, and a magnitude which may be easily embraced
   in one view; so in the plot, a certain length is necessary, and a
   length which can be easily embraced by the memory. The limit of length
   in relation to dramatic competition and sensuous presentment is no
   part of artistic theory. For had it been the rule for a hundred
   tragedies to compete together, the performance would have been
   regulated by the water-clock- as indeed we are told was formerly done.
   But the limit as fixed by the nature of the drama itself is this:
   the greater the length, the more beautiful will the piece be by reason
   of its size, provided that the whole be perspicuous. And to define the
   matter roughly, we may say that the proper magnitude is comprised
   within such limits, that the sequence of events, according to the
   law of probability or necessity, will admit of a change from bad
   fortune to good, or from good fortune to bad.
   POETICS|8
   VIII
   Unity of plot does not, as some persons think, consist in the
   unity of the hero. For infinitely various are the incidents in one
   man's life which cannot be reduced to unity; and so, too, there are
   many actions of one man out of which we cannot make one action.
   Hence the error, as it appears, of all poets who have composed a
   Heracleid, a Theseid, or other poems of the kind. They imagine that as
   Heracles was one man, the story of Heracles must also be a unity.
   But Homer, as in all else he is of surpassing merit, here too- whether
   from art or natural genius- seems to have happily discerned the truth.
   In composing the Odyssey he did not include all the adventures of
   Odysseus- such as his wound on Parnassus, or his feigned madness at
   the mustering of the host- incidents between which there was no
   necessary or probable connection: but he made the Odyssey, and
   likewise the Iliad, to center round an action that in our sense of the
 &
nbsp; word is one. As therefore, in the other imitative arts, the
   imitation is one when the object imitated is one, so the plot, being
   an imitation of an action, must imitate one action and that a whole,
   the structural union of the parts being such that, if any one of
   them is displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and
   disturbed. For a thing whose presence or absence makes no visible
   difference, is not an organic part of the whole.
   POETICS|9
   IX
   It is, moreover, evident from what has been said, that it is not the
   function of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may happen-
   what is possible according to the law of probability or necessity. The
   poet and the historian differ not by writing in verse or in prose. The
   work of Herodotus might be put into verse, and it would still be a
   species of history, with meter no less than without it. The true
   difference is that one relates what has happened, the other what may
   happen. Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher
   thing than history: for poetry tends to express the universal, history
   the particular. By the universal I mean how a person of a certain type
   on occasion speak or act, according to the law of probability or
   necessity; and it is this universality at which poetry aims in the
   names she attaches to the personages. The particular is- for
   example- what Alcibiades did or suffered. In Comedy this is already
   apparent: for here the poet first constructs the plot on the lines
   of probability, and then inserts characteristic names- unlike the
   lampooners who write about particular individuals. But tragedians
   still keep to real names, the reason being that what is possible is
   credible: what has not happened we do not at once feel sure to be
   possible; but what has happened is manifestly possible: otherwise it
   would not have happened. Still there are even some tragedies in
   which there are only one or two well-known names, the rest being
   fictitious. In others, none are well known- as in Agathon's Antheus,
   where incidents and names alike are fictitious, and yet they give none
   the less pleasure. We must not, therefore, at all costs keep to the
   received legends, which are the usual subjects of Tragedy. Indeed,
   it would be absurd to attempt it; for even subjects that are known are
   known only to a few, and yet give pleasure to all. It clearly
   follows that the poet or 'maker' should be the maker of plots rather
   than of verses; since he is a poet because he imitates, and what he
   imitates are actions. And even if he chances to take a historical
   subject, he is none the less a poet; for there is no reason why some
   events that have actually happened should not conform to the law of
   the probable and possible, and in virtue of that quality in them he is
   their poet or maker.
   Of all plots and actions the episodic are the worst. I call a plot
   'episodic' in which the episodes or acts succeed one another without
   probable or necessary sequence. Bad poets compose such pieces by their
   own fault, good poets, to please the players; for, as they write
   show pieces for competition, they stretch the plot beyond its
   capacity, and are often forced to break the natural continuity.
   But again, Tragedy is an imitation not only of a complete action,
   but of events inspiring fear or pity. Such an effect is best
   produced when the events come on us by surprise; and the effect is
   heightened when, at the same time, they follows as cause and effect.
   The tragic wonder will then be greater than if they happened of
   themselves or by accident; for even coincidences are most striking
   when they have an air of design. We may instance the statue of Mitys
   at Argos, which fell upon his murderer while he was a spectator at a
   festival, and killed him. Such events seem not to be due to mere
   chance. Plots, therefore, constructed on these principles are
   necessarily the best.
   POETICS|10
   X
   Plots are either Simple or Complex, for the actions in real life, of
   which the plots are an imitation, obviously show a similar
   distinction. An action which is one and continuous in the sense
   above defined, I call Simple, when the change of fortune takes place
   without Reversal of the Situation and without Recognition
   A Complex action is one in which the change is accompanied by such
   Reversal, or by Recognition, or by both. These last should arise
   from the internal structure of the plot, so that what follows should
   be the necessary or probable result of the preceding action. It
   makes all the difference whether any given event is a case of
   propter hoc or post hoc.
   POETICS|11
   XI
   Reversal of the Situation is a change by which the action veers
   round to its opposite, subject always to our rule of probability or
   necessity. Thus in the Oedipus, the messenger comes to cheer Oedipus
   and free him from his alarms about his mother, but by revealing who he
   is, he produces the opposite effect. Again in the Lynceus, Lynceus
   is being led away to his death, and Danaus goes with him, meaning to
   slay him; but the outcome of the preceding incidents is that Danaus is
   killed and Lynceus saved.
   Recognition, as the name indicates, is a change from ignorance to
   knowledge, producing love or hate between the persons destined by
   the poet for good or bad fortune. The best form of recognition is
   coincident with a Reversal of the Situation, as in the Oedipus.
   There are indeed other forms. Even inanimate things of the most
   trivial kind may in a sense be objects of recognition. Again, we may
   recognize or discover whether a person has done a thing or not. But
   the recognition which is most intimately connected with the plot and
   action is, as we have said, the recognition of persons. This
   recognition, combined with Reversal, will produce either pity or fear;
   and actions producing these effects are those which, by our
   definition, Tragedy represents. Moreover, it is upon such situations
   that the issues of good or bad fortune will depend. Recognition, then,
   being between persons, it may happen that one person only is
   recognized by the other- when the latter is already known- or it may
   be necessary that the recognition should be on both sides. Thus
   Iphigenia is revealed to Orestes by the sending of the letter; but
   another act of recognition is required to make Orestes known to
   Iphigenia.
   Two parts, then, of the Plot- Reversal of the Situation and
   Recognition- turn upon surprises. A third part is the Scene of
   Suffering. The Scene of Suffering is a destructive or painful
   action, such as death on the stage, bodily agony, wounds, and the
   like.
   POETICS|12
   XII
   The parts of Tragedy which must be treated as elements of the
   whole have been already mentioned. We now come to the quantitative
   parts- the separate parts into which Tragedy is divided- namely,
   Prologue, Episode, Exode, Choric song; this last being divided into
   Parode and Stasimon. These are common
 to all plays: peculiar to some
   are the songs of actors from the stage and the Commoi.
   The Prologue is that entire part of a tragedy which precedes the
   Parode of the Chorus. The Episode is that entire part of a tragedy
   which is between complete choric songs. The Exode is that entire
   part of a tragedy which has no choric song after it. Of the Choric
   part the Parode is the first undivided utterance of the Chorus: the
   Stasimon is a Choric ode without anapaests or trochaic tetrameters:
   the Commos is a joint lamentation of Chorus and actors. The parts of
   Tragedy which must be treated as elements of the whole have been
   already mentioned. The quantitative parts- the separate parts into
   which it is divided- are here enumerated.
   POETICS|13
   XIII
   As the sequel to what has already been said, we must proceed to
   consider what the poet should aim at, and what he should avoid, in
   constructing his plots; and by what means the specific effect of
   Tragedy will be produced.
   A perfect tragedy should, as we have seen, be arranged not on the
   simple but on the complex plan. It should, moreover, imitate actions
   which excite pity and fear, this being the distinctive mark of
   tragic imitation. It follows plainly, in the first place, that the
   change of fortune presented must not be the spectacle of a virtuous
   man brought from prosperity to adversity: for this moves neither
   pity nor fear; it merely shocks us. Nor, again, that of a bad man
   passing from adversity to prosperity: for nothing can be more alien to
   the spirit of Tragedy; it possesses no single tragic quality; it
   neither satisfies the moral sense nor calls forth pity or fear. Nor,
   again, should the downfall of the utter villain be exhibited. A plot
   of this kind would, doubtless, satisfy the moral sense, but it would
   inspire neither pity nor fear; for pity is aroused by unmerited
   misfortune, fear by the misfortune of a man like ourselves. Such an
   event, therefore, will be neither pitiful nor terrible. There remains,