Aristotle and Modern Tragedy

Author(s): George R. Noyes

Source: Modern Language Notes , Jan., 1898, Vol. 13, No. 1 (Jan., 1898), pp. 6-12
Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press

Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/2917075

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 II jZanu{ary, I898. MODERN LANGUAGE NOTES. Vol. xiii, No. I. 12

and twilight gray which, arrived at Arezzo, and disgusted at

Had in her sober livery all things clad.
P. L. iv, 598.
Fosse orizzonte fatto d'un aspetto .-I
Purg. xxvii, 7I.
Now glowed the firmnament
With living sapphire.
P. L. iv, 6o4.
battlements adom'd
Of living sapphire.
il, 1049
Dolce color d'orlental zaffiro.
Purg. i, I3.
While thus he spake, th'angelic squadron bright
Turn'd fiery red.
P. L. iv, 977.
Di quel color, che per lo sole avverso
Nube dipinge da sera e da mane,
Vid'io allera (that is, at words of St. Peter) tutto il
ciel co perso.
Par. xxvii, 28.
A wilderness of sweets.
P. L. V, 294.
Ma di soavitl di mille odori,
Vi faceva un incognito indistinto,
Purg. vii, 80.
And what surmounts the reach
Of human sense, I shall delineate so,
By lik'ning spiritual to corporal forms.
P. L. v, 57I.
Cosi parlar conviensi al vostro ingegno
e piedi e mano
Attribuisce a Dio, ed altro intende.
Par. iv, 40.
Therefore eternal silence be their doom.
P. L. vi, 384.
Non ragioniam di lor ma guarda e passa.
17f. iii, 5I.
So steers the prudent crane
Her annual voyage, borne on winds.
P. L. vii, 430.
E conme i gru van cantando lor lai
Facendo in aer di sa luaga riga.
Inf. v, 46.
What seem'd fair in all the world seem'd now
Mean, or in her sunim'd up.
P. L. viii, 472.
Ella e quanto di ben pub far natura;
Per esempio di lei belta si prova.
La Vita Nuova, 0 xix.
The personification of the sun, turning sud-
12 Lowell
denly his course, at the " tasted fruit" of
Adam and Eve, "as from Thyestean banquet
their cturrish character,-
"a lor, disdegnosa, torce il muso."
Purg. xiv, 48.
In P. L. x, 89I, Eve is called "this fair
defect of Nature;" so too an ugly body in
the Convilo iii, 4,-is said to be due to a
peccato del/a natnra. Venus in P. L. xi,
589 is "Love's harbiinger, "-while in Purg. i,
i9,-we find it spoklen of as
Lo bel piaiieta che ad amar conforta.
The dlescriptioni of storm and flood in P. L.
xi, 737, 6. seems to show reminiscetntial or
coincidenital resemblances to Dante's famlous
description in Pirg. v, iog ff.
In conclusion, I miiay say that in writinig this
article nmy purpose lhas niot been to prove in
every case cited that Milton directly or in-
directly borrowed fromIi Dante, but simply to
bring together wlhat seemed to me more or
less striking resemblanices between the two
poets. That Milton was influenced by Dante
can, I thlinlk, admiiit of no doubt. The extent
of this influence will be a matter of opinion
on the part of those who examitie the evidence
in the case. My function has been to supply,
as well as I knew how, the materials which
may serve as a basis for suchl opinions.12
OSCAR KUHNS.
Wesleyan University.
ARISTOTLE AND MODERN
TRAGEDY.
THE fact that Aristotle was a scientist who
took the whole field of knowledge for hiis
province has become trite with repetition, so
thiat it falls upon our ears as a meaniiigless
phrase. Yet it is a truth whichl we must con-
stantly bear in minid if we wislh really to un-
derstand the meaning and the permanent value
of his Poetics. For, in this little book, which
preserves to us nearly all that we know of his
aesthetic theory, Aristotle has the same pre-
in a letter written at Whitby, points out what
he considers a strong influence of Dante on Milton's versifi-
cation, which he says he is conviiuced, was mainly modeled

(P. L. 688) " is like that of the river Arno, on the Italian and especially on the Divina (Contmedia.
" Many, if not most of his odd constructions are to be
II. Cf. also,- sought there, rather than in the Ancients." Letters of
7ames Russell Lowell, vol. ii, p. 386. This seems to me to
Night's hemisphere had veil'd the horizon round.
P. L. ix, 52. be an exaggerated statement of the facts.

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 13 January, x898. MODERN LANGUAGE NOTES. Vol. xiii, No. I. 14

cise, logical point of view which pervades his misery through some defect of his nature. To
scientific works. In the Poetics, which was this highest type of tragedy belong the Aga-
never an exhaustive treatise, and in its present inennon of Aschylus, and the CEdifius Ty-
fragmentary form is almost entirely a dis- rannuxs of Sophocles. When we read, or see
cussion of tragedy, Aristotle is neither a pure performed, such tragedies, pity arises in us for
theorist, forming from his own general ideas a the hero, who suffers a punishmenit which,
set of rules meant to guide future dramatists; judged by human standards, is out of all pro-
nor, on the other hand, a mere compiler of the portion to his guilt. A tragic fear, or sense of
practice of the Greek tragedians. He is awe, comes from the vision of a moral order
pritnarily an induictive r easoner, basinig under
his which such retribution is possible, or
conclusions upon the forms of drama known perhaps inevitable. By the excitation of such
to him. Without assuming even the greatest lofty passions our own purely human emo-
work to be perfect, he attempts, from the tions are purged of disturbinig eletments, are
varied excellence of different tragedies, to deepened and puirified. This tragedy, al-
discover the causes and necessary conditions though it has an inidirect moral effect, by the
of suich excellence. deepening of human feelings, is by its very
Since he is addressing an audience perfectly natuire, being addressed to the feelings and
familiar with Greek literatuire, and ignorant of not the will, aesthetic rather than moral. By
any other, Aristotle passes over without spe- niot assigning a direct moral purpose to trage-
cific treatmenit the elenment in Greek tragedy dy, or to poetry in general, Aristotle departed
which is its nmost important point of difference from the traditional Greek point of view, and
from the modern drama. Greek tragedy had was not followed by the modern schools which
its beginniiings in religious rites; it continued, looked upon him as their guide.2
throuiglh all its hiistory, to be represented at It is, however, no exaggeration to say that
solenin public festivals; and it almost invari- the Poetics was for centuries the gospel of
ably clhose its subjects from the national semi- dramatic criticism. Aristotle retained his rule
religious mytths. Thus it received a religious in awsthetics exven longer than in science. He
character, which permeates its very essence. slared with other great teachers the fate of
Even in the plays of the sceptic Euripides, being misuinderstood and misinterpreted, but
though the old Greek piety and seriousniess was regarded with as superstitious a respect
are gonie, the type of drama which they had as anly Father of the church. Dacier, in I692,
created remainis. disniisses with scorn the suiggestion of an
Of this religious drama, Aristotle gives the Italian commentator that there might be a
following famliliar definition: contradiction between the Poetics and the
"Tragedy is an imitation of an action that is Bible. "As if Theology and Holy Scripture
serious, complete and of a certain nmagnitude; could ever be contrary to the sentitmienits of
. . . in the formii of action, not of narrative; Nature upon whiclh this judgment of Aristotle
througlh pity and fear eflecting the proper
is founded."3 Seventy-five years later Lessinig,
purgation of those passions.",
a critic fundamenitally opposed to the French
Thus at the beginning of the Poetics, Aris-
classicism of which Dacier was an exponent,
totle assumes that pity and fear are the emo-
repeats essentially the same opinion. He
tions proper to tragedy. Though he does not
charges the French school with imiisiniterpreta-
argue directly in support of this proposition,
tion of the work by which they attempted to
his illustrations, which are drawn from the
justify their methods, but thiiiks the Poetics it-
greatest works of the Greek poets, show how
self " as infallible as the Elements of Euclid. "4
it was obtained. Pity and fear, he continues,
The interpreters of Aristotle, instead of
are best aroused by the spectacle of a great
seeking to understand the spirit of their
man, and one in general good, brought into
2 Butcher: Aristotle's Theory of Poetry axd Fine Art,
I Poetics vi, 2 (Butcher's translation). Though fear is ap-
chap. v.
parently the only word that can be used here, Aristotle means
rather a sexse of awe thanfear as we commonly employ the 3 La Poitique d'Aristote, note I to chap. xiii.
term. 4 Butcher, ibid. p. 354.

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 15 jaiuary, I898. MfODERN LANG UA GE NOTES. Vol. xiii, No. I.

ally
auithior, often busied themselves with petty special peculiarity of the Greek drama:
cle-
tails, and unwarranted expansion of hinits on the contrary, it is <an expression of the uni-
given by hiinm. Thus they devoted reamiis to versal Greek striving for unity and definiteness
discussing the unities of time ancd place, of of effect. Altlhouigh it is not attained by eveni
the majority of the Greek plays, it nevertlie-
which the last is not founid in Aristotle at all,
and the first is referred to only in a passitig less poinits to a difference between the Greek
phirase. These unities, tlhough imiportant to a and the moderni dramia as wi(le as that be-
student of Artistotle's influenice oni the niodern tween a Greek temple and a Gothic cathedral.
drania, are of small accouinit in lhis owtn thieory. It makes clear to us lhow far from Greek
Anld the utnity of action, tipon whiich Aristotle methods are whlole divisions of modern litera-
really does stronigly inisist, is withi hlim Ino dry, ture. It at once condemnis all works,-and
formial principle. Aristotle makes thle plot their nanme is legion,-of wllich the primary
the first lprilnciple, or, as it were, the soul ofaim is to exhibit character, or to set fortlh
tragedy.sI He even says, w ithi an exaggeration social problems. To speak imiore definitely, it
perhiaps coInscious, thlat there may be tragedyof'ers a standar(d to whichl none of the Eliza-
withouit character, miieaning probably withotit betlhani plays, except the greater nuimber of
strongly individualized figuires. 'ITlhe plot, he Shakspere's and a few of Marlowve's and
Joi1soii's, can be said to conform. When we
continiuies, imiust be comlplete in itself, and have
an ordlerly developmenit fi om beginning to try to call to memory a work by one of the
encd, so that no part could be omitted or dis-minor Elizabethan dramatists, we cannot form
a clear, definite idea at once of the plot and
placed WithIout injUring the effect of the whiole.
the characters. The actors rarely have the
So a traged) must niot only liave a sinigle hero,
but the acts of the lhero must be united by trtuth and elevation that makes themi at once
some principle of uinity. ideal figtures and( real nmen and womien. Even
Aristotle lhad before himn no suclh tragedies whlen this condeitioni is ftlfilled, the plot de-
as KCing Lear, in which a subordinate action penids ratlher uipoIn external caprice than upoIn
aids rather than retards the developmetnt of the character anid original situation of the
the maini plot. It would, tlherefore, be almiostactors. Either the plot is conistructed for its
useless to speculate what opinion he would own sake, anid then miiore or less conventional
have held about them. In their form they do character.s graftedl UipOI it, as in thIe romances
not offend against the spirit of his teaching. of Beaumliont an(d Fletcher; or else it has a
Yet, in spite of the emphasis laid upon the movenment independent of the characters,
plot, Aristotle is not indifferent to the impor-merely designed to show them in new lights,
tance of character in tragedy. " Character," as in tIne imelodramas of Marston and Webster.
as he expresses it, "holds the seconid place."6 The union and interdependeiice of plot and
So he pronounces, with manifest disapproba- character needed for true tragic effect are al-
tion, that the poets of his own time fail in ways lackinig. Shakspere hiimiself has given
renldering of character, evidently meaning us one such play in Troilus and Cressida.
that they confine themiselves to reproducinig There the whole interest is in the speeches
conventional types. When taken in connec- and the character exhibited by them, while
tion with his insistence upon the organic de- the plot is a wretchled thing without beginninig
velopment of plot, these words show uis that or end, or logical conniection with the actors.
his ideal tragedy is one in which character and Some whimsical critic may yet tell us that, in
plot are inextricably blended. In suclh a play a passinig mood of cynicism, Shakspere mock-
the characters of the actors, joined withi their ingly adopted the faulty methods of hiis con-
initial situation, give rise to the incidenits of temporaries, and wrote 7roiluts and Cressida
the plot, and the incidents, in their turn, bringto illustrate the following words of Aristotle:
out new manifestations of character, so that a " If you strinig together a set of speeches ex-
single harmonious impression is created. pressive of character, and well-finished in
This ideal of Aristotle does not result from point of diction and tlhought, you will not pro-
5 Pvetics, vi, 1'4. 6 iPetics, vi, 14. duce the essential tragic effect nearly so well

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 17 January, I898. MODERN LANGUAGE NOTES. Vol. xiii, No. I. Is

as with a play which, however deficient in might

that we these question, as Dryden himself
respects, yet has a plot and artistically con- does elsewhere,8 whether the element of in-
structed incidents."7 struction is necessary, this definition could
Other rules of Aristotle result from his limi- hardly be improved. In it, as we see at once,
tation of the proper dramatic emotions to pity there is no, limitation of the dramatic emotions
and fear. Probably this generalization, which In another passage, Dryden makes this fact
lies at the very basis of his theory, is not uni- more explicit. "All the passions, in their turns,
versally applicable even to Greek tragedy. are to be set in a ferment [by tragedy]; as joy,
Certainly it isitoo narrow to express the. wh )le
anger, love, fear, are to be used as the poet's
truth about the modern dranma. commQnplaces, and a general concerniment
Turning to English literature, as that mosti for the principal actors is to be raised, by
familiar to us, we see at the first glance that making them appear such in their characters,
the character of the Elizabetlhan drama is their words, and their actioiis; as will, interest
radically different frotn that of Greek tragedy.the audience in their fortunes."s
To be sure, the English drama, like the Greek, Only the most important instance of the gene-
had a religious origin; but in its later de- ral widening of emotion in the modern drama
velopment it shows few traces of religious in- need be discussed. Not one of the surviving
fluence. In fact, from the time of the miracle Greek tragedies is founded upon the love be-
plays until our own day, it has been unceas- tween a man and a woman, considered apart
ingly attacked on thF ground of its immorality:from any other relation between them. The
The English dramatists, instead of being con- nearest approaches to it occur, significantly
fined to a few time-honored myths, had abso-enough, in the Alcestis and the Hippolytus of
lutely free range in their choice of subject. Euripides. But in the former case we have
While in Greece comedy and tragedy were primarily the idea of wifely devotion, con-
kept apart botli by their different origins and sidered as a religious duty; in the latter, the
by the analytic instinct of the Greek race, adulterous and incestuous love of Phaedra is re-
which insisted uIpotn sharply distinguishinggarded
its as a retribution sent by the gods upon
several literary types, in England they meet in the critnes of her house. When woman was
the most intimate union. Thus the English regarded as an inferior creature, sympathetic
drama has no such unity of form and concep- handling of love was hardly possible. In later
tion as is found in the Greek. The result is Greek literature, love increases in importance.
that the emotions aroused by the English It is, for example, one of the chief motives in
plays, tliough usually less intense than those the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius. But
whiich find expression in the Greek drama, are it is only after Classic times that love, treated
much more varied. for its own sake, really becomes a leading sub-
For a statement of the English idea of a ject of literature. Its development was due to
play, we can not do better than to turn to Christianity and the Germain races. By the
Dryden. In the Essay of Dramatic Poesy we chivalric ideal tlhrough which it dominated
find a definiition, which, thougli modestly mediaeval literature, it gained aii importance
termed a rude notion or description, may be whichi it has never since lost. To speak only
fairly enough contrasted with Aristotle's for- of Sliakspere. in England, it is the central in-
mula for the Greek tragedy. A play, says terest in Romeo and Juliet, and Antony and
Dryden, is "a just and lively image of hiumanCleopatra; in France, it became the chief
nature, representing its passions and humors, subject of a school which professed to follow
and the changes of fortune to which it is sub- the Classic tradition. The Cid of Corneille,
ject, for the delight and instruction of man- which is distinguished among his greater tra-
kind." In order to prevent this from applying 8 " Defence of an Essay of Dramatic Poesy " (Vol. ii, p.
equally well to a novel or an epic poem, we 295, of the Scott-Saintsbury edition).
must clearly add Aristotle's words: " in the g "Heads of an Answer to Rymer," (xv, 383.) Dryden
might also be cited in support of very different views. The
fornm of action, not of narrative." Then, except
passages quoted are taken on account of their happy manner
7 PoctiCs, vi, zs (Butcher's translation). of expression, niot appealed to as authorities.

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 ig Janiuay, I898. AMODERNV LANGUAGE NOTES. Vol. xiii, No. i. 20

gedies by haviing love as its predominating works ancient of miiodern of which the force
passionl, aclhieved a most brillianit success on anld beauty are ihiiversally conceded.
its first production, anid has always beeni the The first class comprises nearly all tragedies
most widely read of its author's works. We of a happy ending. These Aristotle con-
are at once anmused and inistructed when we demns, because itn their general outcome,
see Corneille, in criticisinig his most famous wlhile they satisfy the mioral sense, they excite
tragedy, admit that fear is not arotused by it, neither pity nor fear; so that the pleasure de-
and just hesitate a douLbt that the dictum of rive(l frolm tlhem is proper ratlher to comedy
Aristotle, upon wliich he bases muclh of his than to tragedy. Here the crltic expresses in ali
critical writing, may after all be only imagi- extreme fornm the Greek aversion to the ming-
nary.io In Germany, Goethe made love a lead- ling of literary types. Yet he significantly ad-
ing motive in the greatest poem of otur own mits tlhat, through the weakniess of the specta-
cenitLury. It is impressive to see how the story tors, such tragedies ofteln mneet with greater
of Faust, which, in its original form, has a popular favor than those of the type which lie
niatural affiniity with the old Prometheus myth, himself approves. And sorne of the most fa-
is given a wholly modern tone by the addition mous Greek tragedies, as the Proiieleles
of the episode of Margaret. Yet more UInboend of IEJschylus and the I,bhigenia ix
strikinig, though we here pass the bounds of Tauris of Euripides, which even Aristotle
thle acting drama, is Shelley's transformation heartily admired, belonged to this so-called
of the Prometheus mytth itself. In Prometheus inferior class. Examples in tiodern literature
UInbouind, by joining the element of love to a are still more numerouis. In Englislh, we lhave
clharacteristic Greek legend, tlle poet produces among Slhakspere's works, Cym6ibeline, and"-
an effect which appeals intenisely to the mod- for the play is a tragedy in the ancient sense
ern imaginationi but whiclh would be uniintelli- of the word-lMeasure for Aerstre. In
gible to that of the Greek. Frenchi, we at onice think of the Cid and Cinn
It is, then, almost absurd to claim that pity of Corneille, anid in German of Sclhiller's
and fear are the only emotions that should be WVilhelmn 7'ell, and Goetle's Tasso. But the
aroused by modern tragedy. More than this, greatest example of all is Faust, with its finial
they are not always found, even in the Greek solution by reconciliation and atonement.
plays, upon which Aristotle based his gener- The numlierous Greek tragedies belonging to
alization. The great critic frankly recognizes this class are alone sufficient to show the
this fact. Regarding pity and fear as charac- fallacy involved in Aristotle's definition. Aris-
teristic only of the highest form of tragedy, he totle has allowed to intrude into his dogmatic,
sets apart, as failing to produce them, four systematizing metlhod, a personal elenment,
distinct types of tragic plot. Though his an- which at once gives it unity and confuses it.
alysis may amuse those accustomed to the less Seizing finally the characteristics of the Greek
direct and simple ways of modern criticism, it tragedies that appeal most to himself, he has
is neither trivial nor useless. According to fornmed fromi them a definition which he ap-
Aristotle, the most fittinig subject for tragedy plies universally. He does not see that his
is, as we have seen, the fall into adversity of a definition will not include works like the
man good in general, but with some defect of Iphigenia in Tauris, wlhich he himself praises.
character. Hence, those tragedies are de- This is one of several indications that the
fective which treat, i. of the rise of a good Poetics was only a tentative work; that Aris-
man into prosperity; 2. of the fall of a bad totle had not formed, or at least lhas not
man into adversity; 3. of the rise of a bad hanided down to us, a consistent theory of
man into prosperity; 4. of the fall of a per- poetry.
fectly good man into adversity. It will repay
Tragedies of the second class, depicting the
us to scrutinize this classification carefuLlly, and
fall of a bad man into adversity, are pronounced
to inquire whether in each of the types called
faulty by Aristotle for reasons readily under-
defective by Aristotle, there are not found some
stood. Though our sense of justice is satis-
zo " Discours sur la Tragbdie." fied, yet we do not pity a bad nman, nor, since

I0

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 21 Janucary, I898. MODERN LANGUAGE NOTES. Vol. xiii, No. I. 22

we cannot fancy ou;rselves in his position, is She cannot be said to have sinned; rather she
fear inspired by his ruini. Yet, the lhero may is destroyed by the very perfection of her na-
be of so grand capacities that we are elevated ture.1I The Greek may have seen in her
by the contemlplation of his energy, anid in hisdoom a divine vengeance upon ancestral guilt;
fall moved by the failure of splendid powers. we see an instance of the baffling injustice
Trhus, the Richard III of Shakspere, though that at times seems the dominant force in the
we feel the justice of his defeat, makes us world. Several modern plays, as the Polyeuicte
tremble by hiis fierce vigor. His mighty ef- of Cornieille, the Brittanicus of Racine, and
forts in a wrong cause give us a new picture of theJulius Ccsar of Shakspere are of similar
the irony of life. The Sejanus of Ben Jonson construction. One transcendent subject of this
is a poorer play of the same sort. In this nature, repeatedly treated in modern art, has
division also, thouigh usually treated with a in the drama niever fallen into the hands of a
mocking spirit very alien to tragic solemniity, genius, but remained as the popular Passion
is the story of Don Juan, called the most Play.
popular dramatic hero ever created. The Now, let us, last of all, ask ourselves wlhat
greatest of all suclh heroes, though for obvi-
modern tragedies correspond to the type which
otis reasons lhe cannot be inicluded in thisAristotle
dis- approves, the fall into misery of a
cussioI, would be the Satan of Milton. On good man through some defect of character.
the whole, tlhouiglh it is hard to find effectiveImmediately a number of examples force
exatnples of this type of tragedy, the true ex- themselves upon our attention. In German
planiation is, as usual, nmore general than that literature, we at once remember the GoUz von
given1 by Aristotle. The reason lies simply in Ber-lic/zingen and Egmont of Goethe, and the
the difficulty of conceiving a hero, who, though Walleustein of Schiller. Whlen we turn to
wicked, will nevertlheless commiiand the sym- Shakspere, we find that the greater part of
patthy of the audience. his tragedies fall in this group. Such are
The rise of a bad manl to prosperity, accord- Ro7neo anid Juliet, Coriolanuis, Antony and
ing to Aristotle, a plot totally unifit for tragic Cleopatra, and, most striking of all, the four
effect, seemiis at first sight entirely indefensible. nmasterpieces, Macbeth, Othello, Hamtlet, and
Yet, perhaps it is successfuilly employed in King Lear. This wonderful agreement in
Marlowe's Tamnbur/aine. Certainily the hero form of the greatest works of the greatest of
of that play, thouigh endowed with human dramatists cannot be ani accident. Itsidentity
quialities, is, by all ordinary standards, a bad withi the typical Greek structure, as set forth
mani. But, after overcominig all his eneemies, by Aristotle, is surely a proof of the perma-
le dies at the summit of ihis power, with 110 nent value of the Greek drama, and of the
shadow of remerse for his past life. The keeinness of Aristotle's insiglht into it.
tragic coniflict lies in the struggle of Tambur- Somle genieral conclusions miay without dan-
laime against death. lTo the eye of other men, ger be formed from the failure and success of
hiis life lhas been a complete success; to his Aristotle's little book. Certaiiily nlo critic
own, it is a partial failure. The question is, ever had a position more favorable for work.
wlhether we are compelled to accept the lhero'sAs a basis for criticismn there existed a dra-
poinit of view, inistead of our owni natural one. matic literature that lhas perhaps never, cer-
In any case, the play shows the power of a tainly not more than once, been equalled.
great poet to ennoble what seems to common- And this Greek drama was characterized by a
sense the most unpromising situation. unity of spirit that made it peculiarly suited to
One plot condemned by Aristotle still re- serve as a foundation for a theory of poetics.
mains; the fall of a sinless protagonist into On the other hand, Aristotle had a compre-
misery. Here the critic need not have searched hensive knowledge and power of generaliza-
far to find a magnificent example againist his tion not possessed by any critic since his time.
theory. The Antigone of Sophocles, when ii I owe my example to Butcher. In fairness, it must be
said that another view may be taken of Antigone's conduct,
confronted with a choice between obedience
which wouild bring the play into the class approved by Aris-
to human and divine law, chooses the latter. totle.

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 23 january, i898. MODERN LANGUAGE NOTES. Vol. xiii, No. 1. 24

Thle r esult is iin some respects suicli as we might NOTXES ON M EDIEVAL FRENTCH
hope. Thle great systemiiatizer gives us an in-
LITERA TURE.
terpretation of Greek tragedly which must
serve as a foundation for all succeeding I.
thought. His tests, wheni applied to dramas
of whiclh he could foresee nothinig, are seen to The Date of the Roman de TUbes.
be still rich in suggestion. No stupid pedant
IN his edition of the Roman de Th?des, pub-
and rhetoriciani could have exerted such an in-
lishIed in 1890 by the Socicti desanzciens textes
fluenice upon men of geniuis in all succeeding
franrais, Leopold Constanis concludes that
titmles.
the poem nmust have been composed about
Yet many, perhaps the majority of modern
II50, " plut6t avant qu'apr6s." (The'bes, vol. ii,
readers, will feel an irresistible disconitent with
p. cxviii). In his chapter on ' I,'Epop6e
the whole spirit of the Poetics. We can be
antique,' in Petit (le Julleville's Histoire de lei
sure of this when we see the ceaseless mlisin-
Lanigue et de ta LitteraturefranCaises he has
terpretationi to which its princip)les havemodified
been his i(leas somewlhat, and would fix
subjected. The book has never been accepted
the date betweeni 115o anid 1155 (Hist., vol. i,
as a guide in its literal sense. Eachi dranmatist
p. i82). In this view hie was doubtless influ-
who professed to follow it had made a com- enced by Gaston Paris' remiiarks in a review of
proimise betweeni his ownI ideas and the pre-
the PZne1as (Romania, xxi, p. 285)and not by
cepts of Aristotle. W-Vit.hout fear of false
the discovery of any new facts which would
pride, it may be said that the present century bear on the subject. Yet there is a passage
has been the first to unitderstanid the true char-
in the RomRani (de Th?6es itself to which Con-
acter of the Poetics. Anid it has done so only
stanis attached enouglh importanice to annotate
by overturniing the traditionial famiie of the
(Th?bes, ii, p, 340), but whliclh he omittecl, and
book as the gospel of dramatic criticism, and
perhaps for very good reasonis, from the list
viewiing it as the intelligenit effort of a scienitist
of his arguments, whichl may throw some light
to explain the Greek drama. When we take
on the subject. It is the followinig:
this attitude we see in Aristotle a lack of im-
agination and sympathy whichi keeps him from Apoignant vint Garsi de Marre
perfectly attaining even hiis conlscious aim. A Et sist sor ferrant de Navarre:
Por proece ne por granz cotis
reader of the Greek tragedies, though he has
N'ot tel el regne al rei Anfotis
his mind cleared and enlightenied by the
(4437-4440).
Poetics, feels that after all the formulas of the
critic are powerless to explain the deptli of This Alphonso, Constans says in his note, was
unidefinable emotion aroused by the plays undoubtedly Alphoniso VIII, King of Castille
themselves. And if the book fails fully to ex- and Leon. There is no good ground for dis-
plain the nature of the simple, clear-cut Greek putil]g this statemiienit, since he was the only
drama, it is much more inadequate to the in- Alphonso who was prominenit betweeni I I30 an1d
terpretation of modern literatture. Really it 1175, withini which dates TkhMbes surely must
only suggests points of view, gives a definite, have been written. And Constans seems to
helpful method to our criticism. be just as convinced of the truth of the inifer-
Aristotle has undertaken a task almost as ence drawn in the second sentenice of hiis note,
difficuilt as to make a science of hiuman nature. that Alphonso owed this nmention to the mar-
His failure is but one more proof of the hiope- riage of his daughlter, Constance, to Louis
lessness of the effort to judge works of the VII-a supposition whiichI is at least probable,
imaginationi by standards of common-sense. especially since no other conitemporaneous
No later attempt to found a science of criti- ruler is mentioned in the poem. BuLt this
cism lhas conle so near success as Aristotle's marriage took place, according to all autlhori-
splendid failure. ties, in the year II54, certainily not earlier
GEORGE R. NOYES. than the spring of II52, the date of Louis' di-
k1arard University. vorce fronm Eleanor of PoitouL. Now Con-

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