Pity, fear, and catharsis in aristotles poetics, by charles b. daniels and sam scully

Pity, Fear, and Catharsis in Aristotle's PoeticsAuthor(s): Charles B. Daniels and Sam ScullyReviewed work(s):Source: Noûs, Vol. 26, No. 2 (Jun., 1992), pp. 204-217Published by: Wiley-BlackwellStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2215735 .Accessed: 23/09/2012 12:18

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Pity, Fear, and Catharsis in Aristotle's Poetics

CHARLES B. DANIELS

SAM SCULLY

University of Victoria

1. Introduction

In defining dramatic tragedy Aristotle appeals in part to the psychological notions of pity, fear, and catharsis. The question to be addressed in this paper is whether in Aristotle's analysis the production of pity, fear, and a catharsis of these emotions in audiences-readers, auditors, or viewers-is essential to works of dramatic tragedy, or at least good works of dramatic tragedy. We follow Else 1956, 1986 in hold that it is not.

Topics concerning pity, fear, and especially catharsis are some of the most frequently discussed in the literature on Aristotle's analysis of tragedy. But very rarely in this literature is it stated in so many words that the above question is the one under discussion. Fortenbaugh 1975 and Randall 1960 definitely do come down on the opposite side, interpreting Aristotle as holding that the pro- duction of these psychological effects by a dramatic work is essential to its being at least a good tragedy. Many many commentators, among them Brunius 1966, Butcher 1895 (Ch. VI, especially p. 244), Fergusson 1961 (pp. 34-36), Halliwell 1986, 1987 (especially p. 91), and Ross 1953 (pp. 287-289), while not explicitly saying so, give a strong impression that they too subscribe to this view. After all, for Aristotle the aim of dramatic tragedy is to effect a catharsis of the emotions of pity and fear; hence it seems natural to conclude that the degree to which this is accomplished is the measure of the quality of a work. Unfortunately, it is almost never crystal clear that this is indeed the topic under discussion, rather than some other involving pity, fear, and catharsis-for example, what feelings of pity, fear, and catharsis are, or what elements in tragedies produce them. Of course, tragedies do attract and move audiences. They do have psychological effects. Audience reactions to plays are taken as evidence of their quality. But whether theater works have to have such effects to be tragedies, or good ones, is a different issue. Nonetheless it is our impression,

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and Else's 1986 (p. 159) as well, that most interpretations of Aristotle hold him to require that some kind of pity, fear, and catharsis be produced in audiences. Owing to the fact that most of these interpretations do not address themselves explicitly to the question we propose to answer in this paper, there is some risk of error in taking most Aristotle commentators to be putting forward the posi- tion we oppose. But the overall impression is so strong that we have no hesita- tion in calling this view the "common" interpretation.

As an analysis of tragedy the common interpretation is unsatisfactory. It is no secret that people's emotional reactions to the events they witness or hear of depend upon the emotional states they are in at the time. If Aristotle really did believe certain emotional responses in audiences to be necessary for tragedy, or for good tragedy, he would have devoted at least some pages to the need for preparing people so that exposure to dramatic tragedy would actually work to arouse the correct emotions. This Aristotle does not do. Instead, his primary concern seems to be to describe what is and is not, and what should and should not be, contained within works of dramatic tragedy. This in itself should give rise to suspicions that the common interpretation is flawed.

A second difficulty is epistemological: We can often tell a thing to have certain features merely by inspecting it. For example, we can tell that a man is doubled over merely by inspecting him. For other kinds of features, however, we must go beyond a mere inspection of the thing possessing them to ascertain that it does possess them. No mere inspection of a man will reveal whether or not he is an uncle.

Now on the common interpretation of Aristotle, we cannot tell a text or per- formance to be a tragedy, or a good tragedy, just by inspecting it. No, if we take Aristotle seriously and wish to be scrupulous in our judgments concerning dra- matic works, in addition to inspecting the work's text, story, or performance, we must also undertake a psychological study of the members of its audience to assure ourselves that the pity, fear, and catharsis have indeed been produced before we may really be secure in judging it to be a tragedy, or a good one. This is counterintuitive.

It may be objected that the effects on audiences, or lack thereof, are taken to be signs of their success or failure. This is true, of course. But the issue here is whether a production has to produce psychological effects on audiences to be good. I may judge a man to be an uncle by listening to what he says about his family. But nothing he says makes him an uncle. Audiences who pay and volun- tarily turn up to view performances may well be in the right frames of mind to recognize the quality of a work of theater and be moved by it. They may enter into the work and have feelings appropriate to what is going on on stage. But the fact that what is being performed on stage is a good tragedy being performed well is certainly no guarantee effects like these will ensue.

Finally, Aristotle mentions the pleasure men take in such "imitations", i.e., in make-believe.1 Yet if these works were known to produce real pity and fear, it would seem that only masochists would voluntarily view them. To seek to have

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the negative emotions of pity and fear so one can then have a catharsis and be free of them is like knocking one's head against the wall in order to have the subsequent relief of ceasing to do so. The common interpretation confuses plea- sure with relief.

In this essay we plan to offer an interpretation of Aristotle which is not subject to these defects and to square it, so far as possible, with Aristotle's text. We confess in advance that we cannot, by textual citation, prove ours to be the correct interpretation of the text and the common one to be incorrect. But there's no question that, as philosophy, our interpretation does not suffer from the gross flaws of the popular reading. So if Aristotle was indeed a good philosopher, he can't have meant what he's commonly taken to be saying. He may have meant what we take him to be saying. It's hard, if not impossible now, to know what Aristotle's views really were. We shall rest content if nothing shows our inter- pretation to be grossly untrue to his text and what it might possibly mean.

Not only will be present an interpretation, but we will check it passage by passage against Aristotle's text.2 Of the co-authors Sam Scully has produced a translation that is as flat and interpretation-neutral as possible, and Charles Daniels is responsible for the reading of it which avoids the difficulties just mentioned.

2. What Tragedy Is

We start by noting that for Aristotle a tragedy is an imitation of an action. An action is a series of events. An imitation of an action is a make-believe series of events. Unlike what tennis players do on court, what actors do on stage is symbolic. What the actor on stage does thrusting through the curtain with his sword represents Hamlet thrusting through the curtain with his sword. That Hamlet thrusts through the curtain is a make-believe event, and what the actor does on stage represents this make-believe event.

Now some real-life series of events do typically produce pity and fear in witnesses and end by giving them a sense that things have been appropriately or fittingly (although not perhaps happily) resolved. One way a philosopher can explain what make-believe events he has in mind as suitable for tragedy is by describing real series of events like them. This is what we take Aristotle to be doing at many points in his text, for instance, at the beginning of section 10, where he says:

Some plots are "simple" and some "complex", for indeed the actions represented by the plots are naturally of such types. By a "simple" action I mean one that is continuous and single, as earlier defined, and whose change of fortune occurs without "reversal" or "discovery"; by a "complex" action I mean one whose change involves a "discovery" or "reversal" or both.3

Plots are simple or complex because the imitation actions in them are. These are because real-life actions can also be divided into simple and complex.

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Aristotle's writing often operates at four removes from the dramatic context itself. This distance results from two antitheses: (i) reality vs. make-believe and (ii) emotional characterization of feelings vs. emotional characterization of actions, incidents, or events. The first antithesis is, of course, explicit in the pas- sage just cited. In many places in the text the second, we hold, is equally and importantly there, but implicit. Earlier we remarked that Aristotle spends no pages discussing how to prepare people so that exposure to dramatic tragedy will actually work to arouse the correct emotions in them. What he does instead is to describe the kinds of actions, incidents, or events that should and should not be contained within works of dramatic tragedy. This we take as evidence of an implicit recognition by Aristotle of the second antithesis. While he does say that certain actions arouse certain emotions and others don't, we take him in doing so to be interested in conveying to his reader information about the kinds of actions, incidents, or events he is discussing, not the effects they have.

(1) Make-believe and real-life actions. In explaining what kinds of actions, incidents, or events occur in works of drama, fiction, and make-believe, we are not limited to the fields of drama, fiction, and make-believe. We can say that events in a play or novel are like things that happen in real-life. We can draw upon this similarity in our explanation. We cite familiar sorts of real-life events and expect hearers to be able to recognize the same kinds of events when they occur in drama, fiction, and make-believe.

(2) Make-believe and real-life emotional responses. While the same sort of event can occur in both real-life and make-believe, we do not expect the make- believe event to have the same typical effects or consequences in real-life that the real-life event has in real-life. Spectators may well try to stop a real-life death, but will not be moved to action at all when Hamlet pierces the curtain and behind it Polonius. Movie-goers may cringe when the monster lurches towards them on the screen, but they do not run screaming out of the theater to call in the police for protection.

This Aristotle recognizes explicitly in the first paragraph of Section 4:

Speaking generally, poetry seems to owe its origin to two particular causes, and these are natural. From childhood men have a natural instinct to engage in representation, and in this respect they differ from the other animals, that man is thoroughly imitative and learns his first lessons by representing things. And natural is the enjoyment all people get from representation. What happens in actual experience proves this, for we enjoy looking at the most accurate likenesses of things which are themselves painful for us to see, the appearance of the lowest beasts, for instance, and of corpses [our emphasis].

Things that in reality evoke unpleasant emotions, in imitation or make-believe need not do so, but instead may evoke pleasure. Indeed, we take Aristotle to be holding this throughout the Poetics with respect to the negative emotions of pity and fear.

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Just as children get involved in make-believe, so, we believe, do adults when they watch the make-believe being represented in theatrical performances. Children ride around on broomstick horses, but adults' involvement is typically more sedentary. Adults are content to be in front of the tube or seated in theaters with merely spectators' involvement in the make-believe. As such they, like their more active children, may feel the appropriate make-believe emotions, the same types of emotions in make-believe as they would feel genuinely if they believed themselves to be witnessing real-life events. Indeed, to make audiences enter into the make-believe and feel appropriate make-believe emotions is an under- standable, sensible, and worthwhile goal for playwrights to aim at. But from this it in no way follows that fulfillment of this goal is essential to success in creating tragedies, or good ones. Too much depends upon the kinds of audiences fate happens to attract to performances on particular nights.

(3) Typical emotional effects. In explaining what kind of events we have in mind, we may cite the effects on witnesses real-life events of this kind typically have. Some events typically produce amusement, some hilarity, some pity, some fear. Whether or not these emotions are produced depends not only on the nature of the events themselves, but on the witnesses. People fresh from a loved-one's funeral are not likely to be uncontrollably amused by events that others may find hilarious.

(4) Emotional characterization of actions, events, incidents, etc. That certain kinds of real-life events typically produce hilarity is registered in our calling them hilarious events. Indeed, the careworn or mourning may agree that the events are hilarious even when not feeling the slightest twinge of amusement. A real-life incident may be fearful and pitiable, and yet its witnesses may be in the middle of a drunken revel, too stupid to feel fear, too self-centered to feel pity, or, like some doctors, too inured to this kind of event to feel much of anything.

Thus events or incidents may be amusing, hilarious, pitiable, or fearful. The labels "amusing", "hilarious", "pitiable", and "fearful" apply to the events and incidents, and it is not thereby implied that these events and incidents produce actual feelings of amusement, hilarity, pity, or fear in any witness. Just as we can characterize an event as sudden or electric or pregnant, so too we can charac- terize an event in these ways. And others will understand what we're talking about. We leave for someone else the task of analyzing, in general, the applica- tion of ". . . able", ". . . ious", and ". . . ful" adjectives to actions, situations, incidents, and events.4

Now the kind of actions, situations, incidents, and events we are concerned with in dramatic tragedy are those that, in rpal-life, are pitiable and fearful and progress to a fitting or appropriate resolution. We use the idea of afitting resolu- tion in the sense in which we judge whether a punishment does or does not "fit" a crime. The notion of punishment is appropriate here, since, as is brought out in the first quotation above, a change of fortune (for the worse) is required for a tragedy, while neither reversals nor recognitions are. A change of fortune for the

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worse which is a morally fitting or appropriate resolution of a pitiable and fearful situation is the correlate in the sphere of events of effecting a catharsis, a resolu- tion, of pity and fear in the sphere of felt emotions.

Let it be absolutely clear that we in no way deny that real-life or dramatic events arouse emotions in witnesses. No doubts about it, they do. Our concern is to insist that whether they do or don't is not essential to tragedy, or good tragedy-even on Aristotle's view.

To summarize: Our minimal claim is that Aristotle's definition of dramatic tragedy implies neither (A) that works of tragedy produce real pity, fear, or emotional catharsis in their audiences, nor (B) that the actions and incidents in them, were they to occur in real-life, would do so, nor yet (C) that works of tragedy produce make-believe pity, fear, and emotional catharsis in the audience, nor finally (D) that dramatic representations of such works produce such emo- tions in audiences. Of course, tragedies may incidentally, even typically, produce emotions in people, but on our interpretation Aristotle is not committed to their having to do so. We also wish to make a further, stronger claim: that what Aristotle really wishes to do is to characterize the kinds of actions and events which are appropriate for dramatic tragedy; these are pitiable and fearful actions and events which pass to fitting or appropriate resolutions.

What Aristotle often does to characterize the kinds of events appropriate to dramatic tragedy is to characterize the real-life kinds of events these imitate. He often does so by describing the kinds of responses such events give rise to in witnesses in real-life. This style of conveying what one has in mind is like indicating the number 3,749,823 by saying "The topmost number on the black- board". Being the topmost number of the blackboard is in no way an essential feature of 3,749,823, yet the number to which one refers does get across to one's audience. We take Aristotle to be making a similar kind of reference when he talks about people's feelings of pity and fear and catharses of these feelings. Later in the book he characterizes the dramatic events of tragedies more directly by describing what kinds of thing happen in them, as opposed to what emotional effects their real-life counterparts normally have. We contend that in both the pre-analytic stage and later in the detailed analysis, his purpose is to characterize the events appropriate for dramatic tragedy and not their effects.

To repeat, then, our principal thesis is this:

For Aristotle production of emotional effects in audiences-readers, auditors, or viewers-is not essential to dramatic tragedy, or good dramatic tragedy.

Our strategy will be to paraphrase passages that seem to contradict this thesis in two ways: (1) by taking Aristotle to be talking about the typical effects of the real-life counterparts of the events and incidents of dramatic tragedies, or (2) by using the words "pitiable", "fearful", and "capable of fitting resolution" to char- acterize these events and incidents directly.

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In defining dramatic tragedy in ?6 of the Poetics, Aristotle is remarkably clear about what kinds of situations he has in mind.

Tragedy is, then, a representation of an action that is serious and complete and of a certain magnitude-by means of language made pleasing for each of the forms separately in the different parts [of the play]: it represents men in action and does not use narrative, and through pity and fear it effects a catharsis of such emotions.

We take him to be saying in his definition:

Tragedy is, then, a representation of an action that is serious and complete and of a certain magnitude-by means of language enriched with all kinds of ornament, each used separately in the different parts of the play: it represents men in action and does not use narrative, and from things that happen to men that typically produce pity, fear, and kindred emotions it progresses to fitting resolutions.

Or, very briefly:

Tragedy is a make-believe play whose story is serious, complete, and ample and is about the fitting resolution of a pitiable and fearful situation.

We note here that if a change of fortune for the worse is necessary for tragedy, its presence in Aristotle's definition must be keyed either to the "serious" quality of the action, or to the catharsis, its having to progress to a fitting resolution.

That the imitation action's being serious entails a change of fortune for the worse is doubtful for two reasons: (1) Aristotle characterizes the actions of epic poems as serious and it is not clear that epic poetry requires an overall change for the worse in the hero's fortunes. (2) The characterization is used by Aristotle in the beginning chapters to distinguish the actions of epics and tragedies from those of comedies. "Serious" is opposed to "ridiculous", "funny", or "ludicrous". As such there is no reason why the serious need involve a change for the worse.

But in tragedies the hero's fortune has to change for the worse, and this change, given the hero's circumstances and actions during the course of the play, should be just, appropriate, fitting. Locating the catharsis in the emotions of readers, listeners, or spectators in no way ensures that a change of fortune occurs in the plot. But if the catharsis is itself located in the plot in the form of a just, appropriate, and fitting resolution to pitiable and fearful incidents, the change of fortune will reside there too.

3. Section 13

Aristotle's discussion of artistic excellence in tragedy commences in Section 13.

13. Following upon what has been said above we should next state what ought to be aimed at and what avoided in the construction of a plot, and the means by which the function of tragedy may be achieved. Since then the structure of the finest tragedy

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should be not simple but complex and one that represents fearful and pitiful incidents-for that is peculiar to this form of representation-it is obvious, to begin with, that good men should not be shown passing from good fortune to bad. This is not fearful or pitiful but repulsive. Nor again wicked people passing from bad fortune to good. That is the most untragic of all, having none of the requisite qualities, since it does not satisfy our feelings nor it is pitiful or fearful. Nor again the passing of a thoroughly bad man from good fortune to bad fortune. Such a structure might satisfy our feelings but it arouses neither pity nor fear, the one being for the man who does not deserve his misfortune and the other for the man who is like ourselves-pity for one who does not deserve misfortune, fear for the man like ourselves-so that the event will be neither pitiful nor fearful.

A problem arises in this passage, even under the interpretation which requires pity and fear to be produced in a tragedy's audience. The passage rejects three kinds of situation as inappropriate for tragedy. The difficulty concerns the first:

It is obvious to begin with that good men should not be shown passing from good fortune to bad. This is not fearful or pitiful but repulsive.

When this sort of thing occurs in real life, the typical response is moral outrage and revulsion. For "good men" the paragraph that follows in the text allows us to read "men who are pre-eminently virtuous and just".

But why is it that the plight of a pre-eminently virtuous and just man, who through no fault of his own-he is, after all, pre-eminently virtuous and just- falls from good fortune to bad is neither pitiable nor fearful? After all, at the end of the paragraph Aristotle says:

the one being for the man who does not deserve his misfortune and the other for the man who is like ourselves-pity for the one who does not deserve misfortune, fear for the man like ourselves-so that the event will be neither pitiful nor fearful.

A man pre-eminently virtuous and just does not deserve misfortune so we should have pity on him; and we should have fear, for if misfortune can strike man of such character and ability, none of us is safe from the cruel hand of fate.

The most drastic remedy would be to amend Aristotle's original definition of tragedy by requiring that pity and fear be aroused, but not moral outrage and revulsion. Aristotle is quite right, of course, in his observation that the real-life plight of men of such character whom fate thrusts into misfortune does typically shock and revolt us. We tend to view such happenings as not only pitiable and fearful, but as really unfair. This amendment in the definition of tragedy would also call for an amendment to the passage under discussion, which now should read:

one should not show good men passing from good fortune to bad. That does not arouse merely pity and fear but also moral indignation and revulsion.

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A more moderate solution is available. The problem with this kind of situation may lie not in that it is pitiable and fearful, but, given that our protagonist is pre- eminently virtuous and just, the pitiable and fearful circumstances that befall him are incapable of generating the right kind of catharsis-a catharsis of the emotions of pity and fear on the popular interpretation, a fitting, just, or appropri- ate resolution which yet remains calamitous on ours.

Oedipus and Antigone, at least to some extent, dig their own graves. There is some justice in the change of fortune each suffers by play's end. Indeed, the kind of situation Aristotle puts forward as appropriate for tragedy is precisely one in which the hero does, at least to some extent, deserve the calamity that in the end befalls him. As he says very shortly:

The fine plot must then be single and not, as some say, double; and the change must be not to good fortune from bad but, on the contrary, from good to bad fortune, and it must not be due to villainy but to some great fallibility on the part of such a man as we have described, or of one who is better rather than worse.

The protagonist must be good, at least better rather than worse, but not preemi- nently good. The fall from good into bad fortune of the pre-eminently virtuous and just man through absolutely no fault of his own is in no way fitting, appropri- ate, or just. There is no appropriate resolution to such a calamitous turn of events, since if justice really were to prevail it would not happen in the first place.

Aristotle divides the six parts of tragedy into means, manner, and object- diction and song-making being the means, spectacle or dramatic performance the manner, and thought, character, and plot the object. Now in this passage Aristotle is concerned with how the object of tragedy may be achieved, that is, a protago- nist with a certain history that will not be dramatized on the stage in performing the play (thought)5 and a certain set of desires and dispositions (character) is to be placed in a situation the resolution of which we see in performance on stage (plot). His purpose is to tell us what kind of situation and person are required for successful tragedy. If the emotions of pity, fear, and their cathartic resolution were involved, he'd spend more time talking about the background of the readers, viewers, or listeners who are typically exposed to tragedy-for whether people do feel pity and fear depends upon their circumstances, background, character, and experience. But Aristotle's subject here is the kind of situation or series of events that are appropriate for dramatic artists to represent. So we interpret Aristotle to be saying:

Following upon what has been said above We should next state what ought to be aimed at and what avoided in the construction of a plot, and the means by which the object of tragedy may be achieved. Since then the structure of the best tragedy should be not simple but complex and one that represents incidents that in real-life typically arouse pity and fear-for that is peculiar to this form of art-it is obvious, to begin with, that one should not show good men passing from good fortune to bad.

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That does not in real-life merely arouse pity and fear but leaves us shocked and revolted. Nor again wicked people passing from bad fortune to good. That is the most untragic of all, having none of the requisite qualities, since such circumstances in real-life typically do not satisfy our moral sense or arouse pity and fear. Nor again the passing of a thoroughly bad man from good fortune to bad fortune. Such a situation in real-life might satisfy our moral sense but it typically arouses neither pity nor fear, the one being for the man who does not deserve his misfortune and the other for the man who is like ourselves-pity for the undeserved misfortune, fear for the man like ourselves-so that the result will typically arouse neither pity nor fear.

Or:

Following upon what has been said above we should next state what ought to be aimed at and what avoided in the construction of a plot, and the means by which the object of tragedy may be achieved. Since then the structure of the best tragedy may be achieved. Since then the structure of the best tragedy should be not simple but complex and one that represents pitiable and fearful incidents- for that is peculiar to this form of art-it is obvious to begin with that one should not show good men passing from good fortune to bad. Such situations are not just pitiable and fearful; they are incapable of fitting resolution. Nor again wicked people passing from bad fortune to good. Such a situation is the most untragic of all, being neither fitting, pitiable, or fearful. Nor again the passing of a thoroughly bad man from good fortune to bad fortune. Such a turn of events might be fitting, but it is neither pitiable nor fearful, the one being a case of a man who does not deserve his misfortune and the other of the man who is like ourselves-pity for the undeserved misfortune, fear for the man like ourselves-so that the result is neither pitiable nor fearful.

4. Section 14

In this section we find:

14. The fearful and the pitiable can result from the spectacle, but they can arise from the actual arrangement of the incidents, which is preferable and the mark of a better poet. The plot should be so arranged that even without seeing the play anyone hearing of the incidents happening will feel terror and pity as a result of what occurs. So would anyone feel who hears the story of Oedipus. To produce this effect by means of an appeal to the eye is inartistic and needs lavish expenditure while those who by such means produce an effect which is not fearful but merely monstrous are not dealing with tragedy. For one should not seek from tragedy every pleasure but that which is peculiar to tragedy, and since the poet must by "representation" produce the pleasure which comes from feeling pity and fear, obviously this quality must be embodied in the incidents.

Plot is one of the six components of tragedy and spectacle another. Plot refers to the series of incidents dramatized. Spectacle refers to what spectators see at particular performances of a work of tragedy. The plot must be presented in every performance of a work for what is presented to count as a performance of

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the work; whereas the elements of spectacle differ from one performance of the work to the next.

In his opening sentence Aristotle is observing that it may be either the craft of the playwright that animates the representation of pitiable and fearful incidents or the craft of particular actors, customers, and stage technicians with props and special effects that does this. We should interpret him to be saying:

14. That the incidents represented are pitiable and fearful at times results from spectacle and at times from the actual arrangement of the incidents, which is preferable and the mark of a better poet. The plot should be so arranged that even without seeing the play anyone hearing of the incidents actually happening typically will feel terror and pity as a result of what occurs.

He then proceeds to remark that it is inartistic and crude when, like so many of the horror movies we see these days-short on plot and long on special effects, staging alone makes the represented events have their emotional character.

Three points should be emphasized concerning the remainder of the paragraph: (1) The pleasure "that comes from feeling pity and fear" is not masochistic. It

is rather the pleasure referred to at the beginning of section 4:

4. Speaking generally, poetry seems to owe its origin to two particular causes, and these are natural. From childhood men have a natural instinct to engage in representation, and in this respect they differ from the other animals, that man is thoroughly imitative and learns his first lessons through representing things. And natural is the enjoyment people always get from representation. What happens in actual experience proves this, for we enjoy looking at the most accurate likenesses of things which are themselves painful for us to see, the appearance of the lowest beasts, for instance, and of corpses. The reason is this. Learning things gives great pleasure not only to philosophers but also in the same way to all other men, though they share this pleasure only to a small degree. The reason why they enjoy seeing likenesses is that, as they look, they learn and infer what each is, for instance, "this is so-and-so". If one has never happened to see the original, the pleasure is not due to the representation as such but to the workmanship or the colour or some other such reason.

Here Aristotle observes that children naturally like to engage in mimesis, in make-believe, that they gain knowledge from their make-believe games-which is a good thing, since they can do so without having to undergo many of life's real (and often nasty) experiences-and that even as adults we take pleasure in make-believe.

Inasmuch as the incidents in Tragedy are only make-believe ones, we can take pleasure in them instead of feeling real pity and fear, which, if we were to witness such incidents in real-life, we typically would feel. Only a sadist takes pleasure in witnessing real pitiable incidents; and only a masochist takes pleasure in his own real feelings of pity and fear.

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(2) The appropriate pleasure to be taken in dramatic tragedy is created by the author through his plot, not by actors, costumers, and stage technicians through the spectacle they offer in particular performance.

(3) The causes of this pleasure lie not in the hearts of drama-lovers, in their feelings of pity and fear, but in the kinds of things that happen to the personages represented. It is the kind of incident dramatized that gives rise to the pleasure of tragedy: make-believe pitiable and fearful incidents which pass to fitting resolutions-not make-believe incidents that if real would arouse pity and fear in everyone who witnessed or heard of them, not make-believe incidents that are really pitiable and fearful, and not make-believe incidents that do arouse real pity and fear in everyone who witnesses or hears of them knowing them to be make-believe.

Aristotle begins the second paragraph of section 14 by raising the question:

We must now decide what incidents seem dreadful or pitiable.

Or:

What, then, are the sorts of actions which are (really) fearful and pitiable?

In what follows Aristotle makes it crystal clear that it is the nature of the events represented that makes a tragedy successful, not the kinds of feelings its audience or readers are having.

The action must be against a friend or family member. It is better done in ignorance than in full awareness, since the latter constitutes morally abhorrent treatment of a friend or family member and ceases thereby to make the protago- nist's situation pitiable. Best, according to Aristotle, is to have the deed intended, but owing to a fuller recognition of the circumstances not carried out. For example, a leader precipitately agrees to kill an unknown enemy of the state and then, when it becomes known that the enemy is his own father, refuses to do so. This refusal then brings about his downfall, when things move to a fitting resolution.

5. Section 11

The final passage we need deal with appears in this section.

A "discovery", as the term itself implies, is a change from ignorance to knowledge, producing either friendship or hatred in those who are destined for good fortune or ill. A discovery is most effective when it coincides with a reversal, as with that in the Oedipus. There are also other forms of discovery, for what we have described may in a way occur in relation to inanimate and trivial objects, or one may discover whether someone has done something or not. But the discovery which is most essentially part of the plot and part of the action is of the kind described above, for such a discovery and reversal will involve either pity or fear (and it is actions such

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as these which, according to our hypothesis, tragedy represents), since misfortune and good fortune are likely to turn upon such incidents.

Our interpretation makes a minimal change in the last sentence:

But the discovery which is most essentially part of the plot and part of the action is of the kind described above, for such a discovery and reversal will involve either pitiable or fearful circumstances (and it is actions such as these which, according to our hypothesis, tragedy represents), since misfortune and good fortune are likely to turn upon such incidents.

That misfortune and good fortune turn on pitiable and fearful circumstances is no mere accident. The catharsis or fitting resolution essentially involves a turn of the worst in the fortunes of the hero, what Aristotle cites as the third element of the plot (in addition to reversal and discovery), namely calamity, itoOo; (1459).

6. Conclusion

The interpretation presented in this paper avoids the problems of the common view, which requires readers or viewers of a (good) work of tragedy to feel the emotions of pity and fear and a subsequent catharsis for it to qualify as (good) tragedy. On our view Aristotle's real concern is to characterize the kinds of actions and events that are appropriate for representation in dramatic tragedy and not to characterize the emotional effects these kinds of actions and events have on audiences. We take him to be using emotion words to describe the kinds of emotions that are typically felt in response to the kinds of real-life incidents tragedies represent in make-believe, for the purpose of conveying to his reader the sort of incidents that are appropriate for dramatic tragedy, pitiable and fearful incidents that move to fitting resolutions. On this interpretation there is no need to inspect anything other than the words of the text or a performance of it to determine whether it is a tragedy and whether it is a good one.

We cannot prove conclusively that our interpretation is correct. At least it is not directly contradicted by Aristotle's text, and it does save Aristotle's analysis of tragedy from the philosophical flaws that on the common reading are clearly fatal.6

Notes UIn taking imitation to be make-believe, we following Kendall Walton 1973, 1978. 2The Greek text we use is R. Kassel 1965. 3We note the implication here that a change of fortune is not the same thing as a reversal. 41ndeed, it may be appropriate to call a situation "fearful" even if this kind of event turns out not

to produce fear typically. We still call the things "sunrises" even though we now know the sun does not revolve around the earth.

PITY, FEAR, AND CATHARSIS IN ARISTOTLE'S POETICS 217

5See the beginning of ? 18 for further evidence that plot is limited to what is dramatized on stage.

6We wish to acknowledge the University of Victoria President's Discretionary Fund for its support.

References Brunius, Teddy. 1966 Inspiration and Katharsis (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksells). Butcher, S.H. 1895 Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Art (London: Macmillan & Co.). Else, Gerald F. 1986 Plato and Aristotle on Poetry (Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina

Press). Fergusson, Francis. 1961 Aristotle's Poetics Trans. by S.H. Butcher (New York: Hill & Wang). Fortenbaugh, W.W. 1975 Aristotle on Emotion (London: Duckworth). Halliwell, Stephen. 1986 Aristotle's Poetics (London: Duckworth). 1987 The Poetics of Aristotle (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina). Kassel, Rudolf. 1965 Aristotelis de arte poetica liber (Oxford: Clarendon Press, Oxford Classical Text). Randall, John Herman, Jr. 1960 Aristotle (New York: Columbia University Press). Ross. W.D. 1953 Aristotle (London: Methuen & Co., Ltd.). Walton, Kendall. 1973 "Pictures and Make Believe," Philosophical Review Vol. 81, pp. 283-319. 1978 "Fearing Fictions," Journal of Philosophy Vol. 75, pp. 5-27.