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XXIV
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 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 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 thc 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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