otwithstanding all the minuteness of costume--of national
costume--and of the manners of the time.
Fifthly, tragedy is the imitation of an action that lets us see man
suffering. The word man is essential to mark the limits of tragedy.
Only the suffering of a being like ourselves can move our pity. Thus,
evil genii, demons--or even men like them, without morals--and again pure
spirits, without our weaknesses, are unfit for tragedy. The very idea of
suffering implies a man in the full sense of the term. A pure spirit
cannot suffer, and a man approaching one will never awaken a high degree
of sympathy. A purely sensuous being can indeed have terrible suffering;
but without moral sense it is a prey to it, and a suffering with reason
inactive is a disgusting spectacle. The tragedian is right to prefer
mixed characters, and to place the ideal of his hero half way between
utter perversity and entire perfection.
Lastly, tragedy unites all these requisites to excite pity. Many means
the tragic poet takes might serve another object; but he frees himself
from all requirements not relating to this end, and is thereby obliged to
direct himself with a view to this supreme object.
The final aim to which all the laws tend is called the end of any style
of poetry. The means by which it attains this are its form. The end and
form are, therefore, closely related. The form is determined by the end,
and when the form is well observed the end is generally attained. Each
kind of poetry having a special end must have a distinguishing form.
What it exclusively produces it does in virtue of this special nature it
possesses. The end of tragedy is emotion; its form is the imitation of
an action that leads to suffering. Many kinds may have the same object
as tragedy, of emotion, though it be not their principal end. Therefore,
what distinguishes tragedy is the relation of its form to its end, the
way in which it attains its end by means of its subject.
If the end of tragedy is to awaken sympathy, and its form is the means of
attaining it, the imitation of an action fit to move must have all that
favors sympathy. Such is the form of tragedy.
The production of a kind of poetry is perfect when the form peculiar to
its kind has been used in the best way. Thus, a perfect tragedy is that
where the form is best used to awaken sympathy. Thus, the best tragedy
is that where the pity excited results more from the treatment of the
poet than the theme
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