Aristotle's Poetics RevisitedAuthor(s): Harold SkulskyReviewed work(s):Source: Journal of the History of Ideas, Vol. 19, No. 2 (Apr., 1958), pp. 147-160Published by: University of Pennsylvania PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2707932 .Accessed: 23/09/2012 12:17

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.

.

University of Pennsylvania Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access toJournal of the History of Ideas.

http://www.jstor.org

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS REVISITED

BY HAROLD SKULSKY *

Certain philosophical problems have displayed an exasperating persistence. To be sure, centuries of steadily improved dialectical gadgetry have wrought changes in the way we ask these mulish ques- tions; but this was to be expected, and despite the new wrinkles in terminology, the nuisances remain. The status of universals, the meaning of mathematical propositions, and the locus of value can still be counted on to quicken new orthodoxies and exhume decaying schools.

Aesthetics, which will be our chief concern in the present investi- gation, is a good example of the kind of impasse I have in mind. Art represents par excellence a special kind of value, and the theory which pretends to elucidate it must offer first of all a cogent explana- tion of preference, a criterion of artistic " success." But art is also a social activity whose utility is notoriously obscure, so that numerous practitioners and appreciators down the ages have felt obliged to en- gage in vehement apologetics, to show that it is after all a useful ad- junct to good living. Thus many claims have been made for it, claims for the most part quite irrelevant to the special and crucial problem of preference: art is a means of inculcating moral principles, according to some; others maintain that it is a mode of perceiving important and otherwise inaccessible facts; to others it realizes its function by imparting the unique experiences of uniquely sentient men to their less gifted fellows. These claims are admittedly beside the mark; they fail to explain why a work of art, though impeccable in its moral tone, irrefutable in the propositions it expresses, and non- pareil in the experience it conveys, may yet be dull and ugly. But they do show that art may be rich in its influence on life-though qua art it does not have to be; for each of these claims, at least in regard to some successful art works, appears to contain a grain of truth.

History has thus complicated the work of modern aesthetics; the discipline has now not only to account for the preferential scale of art values (or else to argue plausibly for its non-existence), but also to adjust the various incidental claims which a cultivated awareness ap- pears to support: not all good art is moral or philosophical in intent; but the sense of humanity and that of profound truth seem in some comparatively rare but noteworthy instances to enhance the value of an art work. And this too must be explained.

*I wish to thank Professor Ostwald of Columbia University for his helpful advice and criticism.

147

148 HAROLD SKULSKY

The reader will no doubt be wondering by this time why, in an es- say whose title promises new illumination of an ancient and well thumbed fragment on tragedy and epic, such a gratuitous set of airy platitudes as the foregoing should be foisted on his good will. The answer is simply that Aristotle's truncated work, half reportorial and half prescriptive, is, in my opinion, based on a comprehensive theory of art which fulfills the two basic requirements we have stipulated- those of precise definition and the adjustment of incidental claims. The two or three perennial cruxes, moreover, in the traditional inter- pretation of this work can be resolved, I think, by placing it in the context of Aristotelian thought and by attempting an entirely fresh analysis of the principles implicit in the work itself.

Teleia Praxis and Other Key Terms The tragic performance is for Aristotle essential in defining the

way in which tragedy directly and graphically represents life. It is a ap,.La, an enactment, which must be unified and arranged so as to rep- resent a " complete action," rckcla, juda, Jkq, perfect, single, and entire, requiring nothing else to complete its essence. At a later stage we shall have to examine the internal structure characteristic of a " com- plete action," but at present we must confine ourselves to the general information about the term which we can garner from Aristotle's other works.

In his Magna Moralia (1211bl8ff.), Aristotle discusses the pecul- iar intensity of paternal love and decides that it is essentially an ac, tivity similar to certain skills: " I mean, for instance, the class of skills whose purpose and performance are identical; as in the flautist's view his activity is the same as his r'Xos or purpose (for to him flute playing is both purpose and activity), but in the case of house con- struction this does not obtain (for here there is, beyond the activity, a separate end): thus love is actually a sort of activity, and there is no other end beyond the activity of loving; on the contrary: this itself is the end" 1; and in the Metaphysics (1048bl8ff.), discussing processes which conduce to some external goal, like that of attenua- tion, Aristotle maintains that, "since they are not themselves the purpose of their movement, they do not constitute an action, or at any rate not a complete one (TreXea rpa-63). For they are not an end; and that movement in which the end inheres is also an action."

'Cf. Metaphysics 1050a23: TO yap ep'yov TeXOs, v 6 evepyela Tr gp'yOV. 5uO Kal

T0rPooa ev yp7ela Xe (TLat Ka(T'a TO6 p7OV, Kac auTelvel 7rpos T2v eiTveXeXeav. Cf. Ethica Nic.: 1151a16: ev Tals zrpa4ut r TO OVCUVKa apx7. Also Magna Moralia 1197a9-11: otlov 7rapa TO KtGaplflev OVK C&Tlv, etc. At least some IL4TLKal, it seems, are strictly ends in themselves. All translations are by the present writer.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS REVISITED 149

There appears, I think, to be little doubt that this conception of com- plete action as self-sufficient and an end-in-itself applies to the 1-ex-ta

vrpa$ts of which tragic performance (8pa-,ua) is the artistic reproduction.2 We may conclude at this point that the dramatic representation of complete action, itself intended as correspondingly " complete," is not to be considered a tool, a means to some end outside of itself, such as mental health-whatever incidental results may issue from it.

However, a play is primarily a public performance, meant to be approved, by the cognoscenti at least. All rules, even that of the first unity, must be justified by reference to this effect. Thus Aristotle tells us in the Poetics (1459al7-21) that the poet is plainly obliged to represent a complete action specifically with a view to eliciting a pleasurable experience corresponding in form to his dramatic plot. Our author's insistence on pleasure as a concomitant of plot unity is so frequent that we would do well to consider his general view of pleasure before we trace the relationship between the spectators and the " complete action " in tragedy, as well as the special requirements assumed by Aristotle for each.

First of all, pleasure would seem to represent the purest kind of complete action, the kind which is described at Met. 1050a34 as " ac- tualization ": a transition in which the exercise of a power is both achieved and aimed at, such as seeing 3 per se (as opposed to search- ing); perception, as a matter of fact, is so truly a rEXEda 7rp ets that at any point in its duration it is always the same in form (Met. 1048b20- 25). Pleasure would seem to be such an " actualization " (evepyata),

for as we are told in the Nicomachean Ethics (Book X, Chap. IV): " Vision seems perfect at any instant, not requiring any subsequent addition to complete its form. And pleasure resembles this kind of activity. . . ." Pleasure is moreover the consummation of every hu- man activity (which is by definition conscious) and does not occur without it (dVw re yap EPEpeclas oV ylVerat rSov'7, 7racaav rE &Epyetav TEXEtOL v

j5ov'). Thus the more refined the sensory faculty and the more pre- cise its object, the purer the pleasure.

In Book X, Chapter VI of the Ethics the higher pleasure, that which is both radiantly clear and morally suitable for a free man' (fXtKptwS ca't ixevOcptoq), is identified with contemplation, the exercise

2 Cf. Poetics 1450a16: e y'yp rpa-ywy ta MlMt1aots aTtJp oUic avPOpwrco7r a&XAa rp&aecOs

Kal jLov.... Also Met. 1048b, in which PLos or ivp is mentioned among the 7rp&tELs

which are self-sufficient (1.28). 3Cf. Met. I, 1 980a23-24. A perusal of Met. 1048bl8ff. will establish that for

Aristotle complete praxis and energeia are synonymous. 4Aristotle's observations of ethical and other value-preference are clearly not a

matter of statistical average. The principle is rather: KacaD7rEp ov' 7roxxaKLS elp7Trat

Kal TqLuLa Ka% Wa EOTr TLa Tq) a7rovkclw TOLavra 67Ta.

150 HAROLD SKULSKY

of the intelligence upon concepts (those ideas which are pure of the accidental). Thus we need not be surprised that Aristotle requires tragic poetry to be in some sense conceptually " pure " (xa0o'Aov), con- sistent in structure (' a&\X=Xa), and philosophical, since in this way a remarkably chastened and steadfast pleasure, one exempt from the limitations of bodily pleasure, must of necessity result from its con- templation (8oKEZ -YOVP X) ckXoaoot'a Oavyaarals 2OPaS EXEW KaOapeWT6rT [N.B.] Kac #Beqatc).

It seems highly probable that Aristotle had Plato's Phaedo I in mind when he chose his terms; in that dialogue the clear and distinct contemplation of truth (Tcr dXWKpWV4S, TOVTO 6'iaOT 'acos Tr &X-O6s) is, as in Aristotle, regarded as the " exercise of a faculty operating at its best upon the best of its objects." More important perhaps, the term used by Plato for this supremely pleasurable intuitive perception is catharsis. Of course, Aristotle in the Poetics refers to a special kind of pleasure or purification of perception, one which proceeds from dis- positions similar to pity and fear.6 If my account, then, is correct, it will be necessary to show what such states of consciousness have in common with philosophy. In any case, if the drama and its corre- sponding pleasure are " complete " and concurrent actions, it is diffi- cult to see how a medical or utilitarian interpretation of catharsis (as To vrapa cpyov rexos) can be made to fit into our author's scheme.

So far we have explored two implications of " completeness " as it functions in Aristotelian terminology: theoretically the performance, at every point in its duration, ought to be an end in itself, " a perfect activity," while the experience of dramatic poetry is correspondingly final and self-sufficient. But the dramatic action is not a homogene- ous process, a pure &npycta, like living or consciousness per se; it is a sequence with a relation of parts. And thus, Aristotle, to characterize its pleasurableness more precisely, observes (Chap. VII) that good plays have plot structures which are in themselves " beautiful," in the sense in which an organism is beautiful, when it attains a size proper to its kind and displays an organization suggestive of design or appropriateness.7 Mathematics is the supreme distillation of beauty, for " the beautiful resides in arrangement and due magni-

5 That Aristotle knew this dialogue is certified by Met. 1080a2. 6Compare: b&& iX ov KaG c/f6ov 7repawovora Trh TrW TOl,rwp iraOt77TW KOapcLV

(1449b27-28) and T 6P &i7r6 CXov Kal c/f6ov 5t&a /lAtlJTcwS 5El it6OVi rapaTKCV&CiLP TrV

irolT7vV, 4acEp6V (US TOVTO ep TOlS lrpctLrpaLpamp COl7rovrTfOP (1453bl2-14). 7 Tacvros Tr KaX6' Kal irpbrov Topica 135a13. T0o KaXovI el&7 I.Li7yTTa Ta&LS Ka1

avo)4erTpla Kai roT copwPayvov Met. 1078a36. With irpCbroV compare Kant's Zweck- massigkeit ohne Zweck, which denotes a satisfaction with a functionless pattern, analogous to our enjoyment of an instrument's perfect adaptation to its appointed function.

ARISTOTLE S POETICS REVISITED 151

tude." That neither the " proper" magnitude nor the " proper " ar- rangement are such in a utilitarian sense is substantiated by our own experience of beauty exclusively for its own sake (vide Politics 1362bl-10); " propriety " is here a metaphor describing our peculiar sense of approbation vis-a-vis certain forms.

A beautiful thing, Aristotle tells us, will never be so large or small that its organization cannot be intuited as a whole. In temporal arts, like music and drama, the corresponding test of size is, of course, the memorableness of plot. That this unified patterning of plot ((rcraTaaLs

lrpay/L,dT(v) corresponds to the " contemplative " pleasure we have just discussed is clear enough; they are the formal and perceptual aspects of what we have called " complete activity." But the principles of plotting and the nature of the pleasure peculiar to tragedy are yet to be fully explained.

There remains one further key term in the Poetics, which serves in part to support the foregoing observations: mimesis, literally " copying." All mimetic arts, in Aristotle, " represent " our experi- enceY though they " represent " in various senses and through various media and concern themselves with various sorts of " real things."

Furthermore " imitation," in its rudimentary sense, is from a psy- chological viewpoint the origin of art, and of poetry in particular. This is true for two reasons: (1) ro Te 'y6p /al.u/Eoat aOc vrUovTO"i bOZS Gpw'rots EKc 7ra0wov (2) Kacd Tr xa'peLv Tots At4mat raiTras.8 (1) It is perhaps the only possible human " instinct," in the sense that all infants must mimic their parents in order to learn their first lessons, and yet their mimi- cry is itself untaught. (2) And it is a universal source of instinctive pleasure, derived, Aristotle tells us, from the inferential processes (avXXoyttea0aL) involved in recognition, and from success in learning (Juavd'vfLV) what is being represented 9 (" for if one is not already fa- miliar with the object, the work will not please qua representation "). Thus the fundamental character of the pleasure in mimesis is of the kind we have described, the rational contemplation of order and com- plexity ("beauty ") as embodied (in tragedy) in a "complete ac- tion."

These, then, are the basic concepts of Aristotelian aesthetics. Though various things may exemplify one or more of them-though vision exhibits at least the form of " perfect activity," though mathe- matics exhibits that excellence of order which modern mathemati-

sThe coordinates Te and xac make speculation about 1448b20 appear rather chimerical.

9 It may be observed here that " inference " is made necessary by the very na- ture of imitation, which must perforce rely on conventions of translation from one sphere to another, e.g. the rules of perspective, of conversion from 3 to 2 dimensions.

152 HAROLD SKULSKY

cians call " elegance," though any number of experiences may please us for a time (i.e., make us desire their continuance), though a photo may be a rudimentary specimen of representation-only mimetic art combines all these traits as ends in themselves. How it does this re- mains to be seen.

We have seen that in tragedy the polar situation of dramatic per- formance, involving players and spectators, constitutes a " complete action," whose strictly formal and intellectual aspect is " beauty," or order and measure. It is the plot, then, the system of component events (aa7Taao 7rpay,//aTWV), which constitutes the tragedy's purpose and a principle of tragedy's intelligibility,'0 and which also displays most effectively that arresting logical patterning which Aristotle calls "the beautiful."

In the Poetics Chapter VIII Aristotle praises Homer for scrupu- lously avoiding sequences of events "of which, if one occurred, it would be neither probable nor necessary for the other-to follow it." An integral event in a single action " explains " (7rotEZ &Arioqov) the one which follows. In other words the succeeding events must " be ex- plained " by the positing of their antecedents; they must be such as would happen (o'a aY yIvo To) if the prior mise en scene is assumed true. I have belabored this strict conditionality because it is part and par- cel of the structure, the beauty (in Aristotelian terms) of tragic plot- ting: it is not that the tragic situation is possible or that a superior plot could ever be so (quite the contrary, as we shall see); what is " possible " in drama is what accords with this principle of probability or " conditional " 11 necessity (ra &vvaraT, Kar'a rO EKO's 7rT rb a'av'yKacov'). To be sure, a historical event whose causal sequence is clear may legiti- mately be made the raw material of a tragedy. " For there is nothing actually preventing some real happening from taking probable or necessary form." The implication is apparently that this is rare, and certainly not a universal characteristic of episodes in human affairs.

Thus the term " universal " (Ka9o'Xov), as we shall soon see more clearly, properly indicates when applied to plot that events and char- acters making up the " complete action " are " consistent with the whole " of the action. The " universality " of the action refers to a class of events (7rota) which would result if we assume with the poet the existence of a certain class (7rok) of men and a prior situation (see 1451b8-10); it never refers to a particular situation (TI) which

lo Ta 7rpaiy,.ara Kal o 1ADOos rTXos TrIs rpaO14tas (1450a21-22). apxrt Aev 0' Kai

oZop &vxi 6 AiOos ris TpawcoaLas (1450a37-38). For &px' see Met. / I, especially 1013al5: "TE 605EV KTX where it is defined as a principle of intelligibility.

11 propter praeterita, " simple ": Cf. 1452al9-not to be confused with " hypo- thetical necessity " (sequentium causa), though this is not to be rejected (1452a7).

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS REVISITED 153

actually does or can happen (see 1451b8-10). Thus Aristotle tells us (1455bff.) "A poet should first set forth an 'abstract' (Kao'Xo-v) or blueprint of his plots, both traditional and original, then extend them." Certain events will, of course, be " external to the system" (co TOV Ka0G'Xov 1455b7-8), to the particular pattern of assumptions in question. This novel use of the term would seem to confirm our con- tention that the plot is not universal in the traditionally accepted sense that mutato nomine de te fabula narratur. In fact, for reasons we have yet to investigate, Aristotle believes that a story which is not possible in real life but has the coherent structure we have discussed is much to be preferred to one which is real but causally incoherent and thus, even though the initial situation is accepted, unconvincing.

This principle of beautiful or rational order loved in and for itself extends, naturally, to the characters themselves. Thus in Chap. XV of the Poetics, we learn that the poet ought to add personal integrity to his characterization of idle or wrathful persons just as painters add a higher self-consistence and coherence to their likenesses. This staunch defense of his identity and right to assert his special quality can make even an Ajax a true tragic figure.

In his discussion of the reversals of fortune proper to tragedy, Aristotle eliminates the downfall of a depraved man. His reason is most enlightening: " Such a situation would gratify one's humanity but it would be neither pitiful nor fearful . .. since we pity the unde- serving and fear for one like ourselves." Thus the term " like our- selves " is to be understood from a purely moral point of view; the reprobate (in this case) may be unlike us in a variety of respects, but the decisive one is moral. The hero ought morally to be no less flawed than we, or else there could be no complication and no tragedy. But tragedy 12 must deal with preternaturally noble figures if it is to achieve its effect. That a Medea or an Oedipus transcend ordinary human capacities, either for doing or for suffering, is no defect, for, as we shall explain, a " probable " impossibility is always preferable in tragedy to an "improbable " possibility.'3 No principle, then, could be so alien to a view of tragedy based on Aristotelian aesthetics as that of de te fabula.

So much for the form of tragic action. Now it remains for us to consider the "subjective" dimension of the Aristotelian polarity; beauty (dyEOKao t TJs) as Aristotle defines it is not always pleasur-

12 See, for example, 1448a18. 13 In Chap. XXV the structure of a tragic falsehood is explained as a species of

genetic fallacy; once the audience has " suspended disbelief," a causal structure will support unaided the credibility of the events which grow out of the prologue. 1460a18-26.

154 HAROLD SKULSKY

able (1362b5-10); and we have yet to discover what impels us to pro- long our experience of poetic form, and of artistic form in general.

In achieving its characteristic effect on the auditor, tragedy must aim at dominating his concern and successfully altering his state of consciousness (ro jEra3aAXXaEv 'v T OV' oVTa 1459b29). The engaging of interest (1459b30-31) with varied pattern is the first step toward producing that sublime sense of humanity and of " pity" and " fear " (4tXcavGp&nrov, eAXEv4v, 0f3,Epov) which we are to designate as tragic ex- perience. In this almost hypnotic domination of consciousness, plot structure, with its complication and resolution (Wns Ka't XvaL) is calcu- lated to maximize the impact of the combined reversal and recogni- tion on which the better plot hinges. This composite climax of ac- tion will naturally be more affecting if it takes the auditor by surprise (7rapa r4v 8o'av). But there will be an added satisfaction if it is per- ceived as the natural culmination of the preceding action (St -XjAXAa) ; 14 wonder or awe ( T 00avfaaTov), in contemplating moral conflict against the background of an unchanging natural order (the order of the poet's "nature," that is) is more than the intellectually oriented pleasure evoked even by rudimentary imitation. The purely intel- lectual pleasure in tracing causal sequence is, to be sure, an element in the effect, but surprise and awe, lent structure by their logical matrix, arrest the attention and concern of the spectator far more powerfully and inexorably than simpler imitation could. Thus the passions have been made a structural principle, essential to tragic plot (the " end " of tragedy), which Aristotle states as follows in a passage on the legitimate use of impossibilities: " The poet is nevertheless correct [in introducing miracles] if he achieves his artistic purpose..., if in so doing he renders the event itself or some other event more striking (1460b25-27) ." Thus the evolving of the " reversal-recogni- tion " is both a beautiful patterning and an emotional crescendo, in which each event is carefully subordinated to the ultimate effect. This, then, is the emotionally intensified structure of the dramatic pleasure. This is why "the epic poet constructs his plots dramati- cally, as in tragedy, and concerns himself with a whole and complete action with introduction, development, and conclusion: to produce the proper pleasure like a living thing, single and whole (1459al8ff.)." The pleasure, the purification of perception, the arrested interest, de- rives, in fact, from the interdependence of intense feelings and sym- metrical structure. What these feelings are in the case of tragedy is, of course, still to be determined.'5

" 1452al-11. 15 The reader would do well to reread Chap. XXVI, in which the superiority of

tragedy is explained. The appeal is obviously to the experience of the poetry itself, as to its economy or subtlety, its clarity, and its concentration.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS REVISITED 155

So much for the genus (audience involvement). The differentiae, " pity" and " fear," present difficulties, however. Aristotle defines tragic pleasure as "proceeding from pity and fear through the me- dium of imitation." Each of these terms, I take it, is equally essen- tial; but we know, Aristotle in his Rhetoric (1385bl3-16; 1382a21ff.) assures us, that these passions are precisely pains, and nothing more: VEo-To 5n) {EOs Xb7r s; TEorw 8, qbf3os bMr?7 rts. If we are correct in suppos- ing (and the abundance of evidence appears conclusive) that the tragic pleasure is coincident with the complete action and not a sub- sequent ataraxy generated homeopathically from the purposely un- pleasant experience of the play, there can be little sense in identifying dramatic pity and fear, as aroused by an explicitly mimetic perform- ance, with genuine pity and fear as described in the Rhetoric; it is no mere contretemps that Aristotle refers to the former as TOLOVT(wV

7ra0)/.Ld,crwv. The by now familiar romantic attempt to explain this pleasurable

pity and fear has been reenacted with impressive dialectical skill in a recent paper by Schluck; 16 the dramatic emotions are purified, we are to understand, in the sense that they have become reactions to dangers implicit in the general human situation: " Wovor wir uns im Betrachten der Tragodie fiirchten, ist eine aus dem Wesen des Men- schen selbst aufkommende Gefahr." 17 Also: "Furcht und Mitleid in ihrer Reinheit sind eine eigene Art von Theoria." 18 As the reader will note, this theory makes a great deal depend on our agreeing to recognize in, say, Oedipus' unlucky marriage a clear and present dan- ger menacing not only us but our fellow men. The typical retort is that all tragedies in a sense deal with the same danger (not the ostensible one), answering to the "universality" Aristotle insists upon. But, as we have seen, Aristotle has envisaged no such Kantian steamrolling or stereotyping of tragic subject matter, overt or covert, in his use of the term " universal." Even if we are charitable enough to assume with Schluck that all tragedies refer to the same universal danger, it will be difficult to see how my fear or pity, since it is mine and is personal and particular no matter how many others share it, can be a beatific contemplation of universality if it remains pity or fear in the sense of emotional disturbance (Xv'). Thus the question of the emotion itself remains despite the rarefaction into nullity of its object; besides, we are forced to urge that Schluck's interpretation of KaGo'Xov is not Aristotle's (see again 1455bff.), however much Kant would have applauded it.

16K. Volkmann-Schluck, Die Lehre von der Katharsis in der Poetik des Aris- toteles, Varia Variorum (1952), 104-107.

17Ibhid,. 115. 18 Ibid., 116.

156 HAROLD SKULSKY

It will be noticed that, in his study of the situation appropriate for tragic portrayal (Chap. XIII), Aristotle really makes two demands, not one: that the situation evoke pity and fear and that it gratify one's sense of human dignity 19 (To' pLMdvOp&nrov). It will also be remembered that Aristotle makes a two-fold demand of a higher pleasure: that it be clear and free from bodily taint and that it pertain to the estate of a freeborn man. Now the " liberal " virtues, according to Aristotle, are invariably attended by this sense of human dignity,20 and it is to this " philanthropy," according to Aristotle, that tragedy addresses itself. Thus it is not so much that the exalted moral issues presented in tragedy necessarily have a bearing on the life of the average audi- tor. It is rather that in participating in the rarefied and special ethi- cal dilemmas of the hero, he discovers in himself a generally unac- knowledged importance, a genuine dignity, a latent power (inherent in man's estate) of ethical evaluation.

Only if the audience is somehow permitted to participate actively in the trials of a hero, of a J3EXT&OV, can it experience this insight into the moral dignity of man (oaaWpwov), this keenly pleasurable sense of "liberality" (Av0epLw'T-r). Consequently, the chorus (as repre- senting the audience) must be made an indispensable participant in the proceeding (1456al9-20) and the action itself be made genuinely important and significant (arov8ala). For the audience, it goes with- out saying, cannot enjoy a feeling of important moral achievement unless the action is correspondingly grave and unless it can partici- pate directly via the chorus. What is more significant, it cannot real- ize a genuine " philanthropia " without a sense of emotional involve- ment.

Now, as we have observed, the tragic situation is one which, besides being (preferably) impossible by ordinary standards (though internally coherent), involves a hypothetical class of events (7rota) and individuals (7roe).21 Thus, if pity is to be felt at all, in these cir- cumstances, it must be a hypothetical pity (concerned with cata- strophic oLa av yEVOTo d . . .) just as the fear can be felt only through identification with a general type of man. What is even more diffi- cult than this, pity, in contemplating misfortune in another, and this fear, in experiencing misfortune as another, though mutually ex- clusive, must be felt at the same time. Thus the emotions are not

19 E.g. (1452b37) &rpayy0,6rcaurov yap ToUT' rin Ira6TWv, obv&v Pyap 4EX ci'v SET,

oVme Pyap qLXaivOpw7rov oDre Xeetvbv ov're qof3epov krv. Also the requisites of tragic action and speech: Trav fi 1Eeev'a fi Sew'a fi AEya&Xa (N.B.) fi E'KoTLa SEfl 7rapaWKEV 4EU

(1456b3-4). 20 tXavcOpw7r1ta a&KOXOV0GEfl X 'VGeplOTTl.

21 go--V S KaO6XOV maV T7- yrt T7a roa a7rra 0vl4alveL X&yetv f 7pairetv . . . (1451b8-9).

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS REVISITED 157

only actuated histrionically (&t aupcVoZ), but also experienced by an act of imagination which can only be termed histrionic. It would thus be psychologically inaccurate to style these states of mind "emotions " ( r6Gq); they are rather mental attitudes which are anal- ogous to emotions (7otaov'Tw 7ra6Jq crov). In their role as the necessary condition of that moral elevation which all tragedy, as mimesis, mir- rors, and in mirroring reveals, this active and imaginative pity and fear are symbolic of the communal solidarity, the almost ritualistic rapport between performer and spectator, which typified the several events of the Dionysian festival.

Before deriving from this analysis of the dramatic situation some leading principles of Aristotelian aesthetics, it will be necessary to deal with that sphinx's riddle, tragic catharsis. As we have seen, the simple homeopathic theory of Weil and Bernays does not fit the facts; tragedy, as complete action, cannot serve an external end, it cannot be a medication, laxative or otherwise. The famous descrip- tion of musical therapy in the Politics (1341b36ff.) shows in any case that the putative function of tragedy was already fulfilled by simple orgiastic melody and thus could not be definitive of the dramatic situation, with its intrinsic end ( i3Oov) and coincident, culminating pleasure. Orgiastic melodies, furthermore, are specially serviceable for their r8le in " emotional flushing " because they are amoral (1341a20ff.), as tragedy can never be.

Our discussion appears, I think, to substantiate the interpretation which I suggested earlier in the paper: the " purification " alluded to must be that keen pleasure, or untainted perception, which Plato in his Phaedo calls catharsis.22

We have discussed in some detail the objects and manner of tragic imitation as Aristotle saw them. The technical medium is quite as important, for without conventions and traditions there could be no mimesis, no "intelligibility" (i.e., no possibility of participation). For Aristotle such matters as the use of strange words, lengthened or shortened ones, coinages, and above all of metaphors were items of common knowledge which could be passed over quickly with impu- nity. Today, beset as we are by romantic intuitionists on the one side and academic formalists on the other, it is important for us to acknowledge more emphatically the essential role of form in art, as Aristotle saw it, and to recognize in craftsmanlike execution a pre- requisite of successful art.

22 The use of &la Wkov Kac coo3ov repaLvovaa ... , TrX, for Al .Xecu'V . c., KTX,

is idiomatic Greek, as in d' q6f3ovs XMyol. It is common in Latin: magnus uterque timor latronibus (Horace Sat. I, IV, 67) and colloquial or slang English: " a pity," " a holy terror," and the like.

158 HAROLD SKULSKY

These, then, are the elements of a truly Aristotelian view of art. Art is an organized activity indulged in for its own sake involving a " thing made " within the framework of conventional rules, a thing which is actualized in its being experienced. Superiority in the qual- ity of art is ceteris paribus achieved to the degree that the person initiated into the formal tradition is emotionally involved and intel- lectually interested in the interpretation of symbols or other ele- ments; elements in their turn so manipulated that they transcend the limitations of conventional syntax and provide the initiate with an organized experience of discovery and achievement.

On this premise, artistic innovation consists in actualizing the po- tentiality of the formal tradition (say of drama or the sonnet), a tra- dition which constitutes a set of rules of intelligibility or, more cor- rectly, of participation. This tradition is a complex one and in itself is no more than a negative element or set of limitations, not a posi- tive rule of thumb. The artist recognizes, in an inarticulate way, the principles Aristotle sets forth and to a degree is able to make calcula- tions of a sort. But more often, since, to repeat, the tradition, though a prime requisite, is in itself of no further aid, the artist must rely on the community of humanity between him and his audience in fram- ing his effects. He must have powers of empathy which will permit him to predict these effects and their impact over and above the mere execution and recognition of an art form. As Aristotle puts it, poetic skill involves either exceptionally happy intuitions or a tendency to- ward mental imbalance (1455a32-33).

Thus failures in formal innovation, like those of Arnaut Daniel or Schoenberg or Kandinsky, are explicable as total abrogations of the rules of participation (called "intelligibility ") which define art or genre, abrogations without the introduction of the archai of a new art.

The spirit of aesthetic Aristotelianism, as interpreted in the fore- going study, is eminently realistic and practical. As a critical theory it is not debarred from application to particulars by an involved metaphysical or epistemological apparatus. It is not, like the lucu- brations of would-be Aristotelians (e.g. Boileau), an arid body of pontifications. Nor is Aristotle so vulnerable as they in his version of formalism. For art is, whatever else it may be, a species of social ac- tivity. And in such activity there can be only anarchy without rules of participation. In literary criticism in particular the Aristotelian view of art as an interesting organization of experience provides the antidote to crude moralization and the criticism which rests on cogni- tive criteria. It does this by comprehending them: the intensity of interest is the greater the more profound and universal the moral force of the ideas expressed in a work of literary art.

ARISTOTLE'S POETICS REVISITED 159

It is, to conclude, regrettable that, like his logic and metaphysics, Aristotle's aesthetics has been maligned because of its abuse by gen- erations of art pedants and pundits. The humanists have discredited the latter just as the schoolmen did the former. This essay will have achieved something if, having established nothing else, it convinces the qualified reader that the last word has by no means been said on the Poetics.

APPENDIX

A. A further word on "universality." Schluck's thesis on this score is typical of the way Aristotelian metaphysics may be romanti- cally misappropriated: " Denn die Dichtung," he says (op. cit., 108), " erfasst nicht wie die Wesenserkenntnis das bestimmende Eine als solches in der Abhebung gegen das jeweilige Einzelne, sondern sie enthiullt dieses auf seine Wesensart hin, so dass diese in dem Augen- blick des Einzelnen erscheint." However, all human perception of individual objects, in Aristotle's view, operates in this way. When we see a particular thing, it cannot be recognized and known unless its form is revealed to us, precisely " in dem Augenblick des Einzel- nen "; this is what the " exemplification of a universal " means, for us as well as for " the master of those who know." Schluck's " ex- planation," then, does not explain; for I am sure he does not mean us to gather from his abstruse formulation the startling news that when we see a drama we see a drama. It would be, I think, more accurate to say that the particular dramatic action represents a general class of actions not merely by sharing and exhibiting its form, as all the mem- bers of the class would, but also by displaying a minimum of excep- tions and irrelevancies, and by concealing those inessential elements it cannot avoid retaining. This would not give the gist of Aristotle's KaOoXov, as I have interpreted it, but it would eliminate the tautolo- gous unclarity of the cited passage.

B. I cannot justly neglect some mention of Professor's Gomme's fine book The Greek Attitude to Poetry and History (1954) which contains a number of worthwhile observations on the text in question. Professor Gomme agrees with me that catharsis cannot be the end of tragedy. His reason is that Aristotle insists on a quite different end: tragedy's " proper pleasure."

However, amicus Plato; magis amica veritas. The homeopathic theory of Aristotelean catharsis, with its long and august history, cannot be summarily rejected on such flimnsy grounds; its partisans could retort with perfect reasonableness that the " proper pleasure " presupposed is none other than the beneficial ataraxy produced by the tragic experience, thus converting Professor Gomme's own argu-

160 HAROLD SKULSKY

ment into an unmitigated utilitarianism. Moreover, Politics 23 1341b36ff. would support their contention against Professor Gomme -if he did not avail himself of such additional proofs as I have sug- gested.

C. Another book comes to mind which cannot be safely left out of account. It is and perhaps will remain the best general treatment of the Poetics; I mean Butcher's remarkable Aristotle's Theory of Po- etry and Fine Art (reprinted by Dover Publications, N. Y., 1951). On the meaning of imitation, however, I find the great scholar's ac- count rather misleading. He contends that the elements of the me- dium of imitation, the manoeuvres and grimaces of actors, for ex- ample, reflect their objects directly, are intuitively interpreted, and do not presuppose a set of conventions (see note 9 above). They " convey their meaning by the force of immediate suggestion and without a conscious process of inference. If symbols they may be called, they are not conventional symbols, but living signs (Butcher, 134).

But as we have seen, Aristotle imputes the radical pleasurableness of imitation to the process of inference (ivXXoyt(gaGat) required to learn (ju.av0dveLv) what the imitation represents. Indeed some conven- tions of imitation, like the rules of perspective, are relatively recent contrivances, and their inculcation by cultural conditioning was a historical event of the first importance. In the case of facial and bodily gestures, in their relation to emotion, the importance of a culturally determined conventional framework is particularly obvi- ous; hence the amazing propriety of 'ivXXo-ytg-coat, especially as cor- roborated by the anthropological data available to us (of which Aris- totle could have had little knowledge).

Harvard University. 23 Professor Gomme would perhaps agree that the very existence of therapeutic

music is at least an indication that " emotional flushing " is not essential to tragedy.