Every tragedy falls into two parts,—Complication
and Unravelling or Denouement. Incidents extraneous
to the action are frequently combined with a portion
of the action proper, to form the Complication; the
rest is the Unravelling. By the Complication
I mean all that extends from the beginning of the
action to the part which marks the turning-point to
good or bad fortune. The Unravelling is that
which extends from the beginning of the change to
the end. Thus, in the Lynceus of Theodectes, the
Complication consists of the incidents presupposed
in the drama, the seizure of the child, and then again
* * The Unravelling extends from the accusation
of murder to the end.
There are four kinds of Tragedy, the Complex, depending
entirely on Reversal of the Situation and Recognition;
the Pathetic (where the motive is passion),—such
as the tragedies on Ajax and Ixion; the Ethical (where
the motives are ethical),—such as the Phthiotides
and the Peleus. The fourth kind is the Simple
We here exclude the purely spectacular element,
exemplified by the Phorcides, the Prometheus, and scenes
laid in Hades. The poet should endeavour, if
possible, to combine all poetic elements; or failing
that, the greatest number and those the most important;
the more so, in face of the cavilling criticism of
the day. For whereas there have hitherto been
good poets, each in his own branch, the critics now
expect one man to surpass all others in their several
lines of excellence.
In speaking of a tragedy as the same or different,
the best test to take is the plot. Identity exists
where the Complication and Unravelling are the same.
Many poets tie the knot well, but unravel it ill.
Both arts, however, should always be mastered.
Again, the poet should remember what has been often
said, and not make an Epic structure into a Tragedy—by
an Epic structure I mean one with a multiplicity of
plots—as if, for instance, you were to make
a tragedy out of the entire story of the Iliad.
In the Epic poem, owing to its length, each part assumes
its proper magnitude. In the drama the result
is far from answering to the poet’s expectation.
The proof is that the poets who have dramatised the
whole story of the Fall of Troy, instead of selecting
portions, like Euripides; or who have taken the whole
tale of Niobe, and not a part of her story, like Aeschylus,
either fail utterly or meet with poor success on the
stage. Even Agathon has been known to fail from
this one defect. In his Reversals of the Situation,
however, he shows a marvellous skill in the effort
to hit the popular taste,—to produce a
tragic effect that satisfies the moral sense.
This effect is produced when the clever rogue, like
Sisyphus, is outwitted, or the brave villain defeated.
Such an event is probable in Agathon’s sense
of the word: ‘it is probable,’ he
says, ’that many things should happen contrary
to probability.’
