ATENEO PONTIFICIO REGINA APOSTOLORUM

Facoltà di Filosofia

“Mimesis” According to Aristotle

Direttore: Alain Contat

Studente: Eric Wandrey, L.C.

FE2001 Dissertazione per la licenza in filosofia

Numero di matricola: 7336

Roma, 30 aprile 2013

2

3

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION…………………………………………....................... 6

I. AN INITIAL LOOK AT MIMESIS……………….…………. 7

A. ART ACCORDING TO ARISTOTLE…………………… 7

B. THE MIMETIC ARTS……………………………………. 9

C. DISTINCTIONS ABOUT MIMESIS…………………….. 10

D. MIMESIS AND MAN‟S RATIONAL NATURE..………. 12

II. THE DUALITY OF MIMESIS………………………………. 13

A. THE “DUAL ASPECT” FUNCTION……………............. 13

B. THE DUALITY OF MIMETIC PLEASURE……………. 13

III. THE UNITY OF MIMESIS………………………………….. 17

A. WHOLENESS…………………………………………… 17

B. APPROPRIATE SIZE…………………………………… 18

C. UNITARY OBJECT OF ACTION………………………. 19

D. THE INCREASED INTELLIGIBILITY OF MIMESIS… 20

IV. THE QUASI-PHILOSOPHICAL STATUS OF MIMESIS…. 22

V. THE SEMI-AUTONOMOUS STATUS OF MIMESIS……... 33

A. THE EXEMPTION OF MIMESIS FROM COMPLETE

TECHNICAL ACCURACY…………………………….. 33

B. ANOTHER DUAL ASPECT OF MIMESIS…………….. 36

VI. AN OVERVIEW OF ARISTOTELIAN MIMESIS…………. 39

A. SYNTHESIS……………………………………………… 39

B. A POSSIBLE DEFINITION……………………………... 40

VII. THE “POLARITY” OF MIMESIS…………………………… 43

4

VIII. ARISTOTLE‟S POETICS AND THE ART OF NICOLAS

POUSSIN……………………………………………………... 45

A. THE QUASI-PHILOSOPHICAL QUALITY OF POUSSIN‟S

ARTWORK: INTELLECTUAL DELIGHT……………. 46

B. THE SEMI-AUTONOMOUS STATUS OF POUSSIN‟S

ARTWORK AND ITS BALANCE BETWEEN

VERISIMILITUDE AND MARVEL…………………… 47

C. POUSSIN‟S PAINTINGS AS PICTORIAL

POETRY…………………………………………...……. 48

CONCLUSION…………………………………………………………. 56

BIBLIOGRAPHY………………………………………………………. 58

5

6

INTRODUCTION

At the beginning of The Poetics, Aristotle states that it is his aim «to discuss

the art of poetry in general»1, and further on, he speaks of poetry as one of the

«kinds of mimesis»2.

What he means exactly by “mimesis” is not clear. Nowhere in his Poetics

does Aristotle give a concise definition of the word despite the fact that he uses

the term again and again. In the first seven chapters of this paper, my goal is to

review comments made by Aristotle on mimesis and, with the help of secondary

sources, come to a better understanding of the term. In the last chapter, I will

depart from considering the term itself in order to consider a particular example of

the influence of Aristotelian theory in painting.

In chapters I – V, I will consider some of Aristotle‟s comments on mimesis

that are found in The Poetics and other sources. My considerations will rely

heavily upon the work of commentator Stephen Halliwell.

Most of Aristotle‟s comments on mimesis are in reference to poetic

mimesis. In Chapter VI, I will attempt to synthesize the principles contained in

these comments, and consider their applicability to other mimetic art forms. In

this same chapter, I will also explore a possible definition of mimesis that is

proposed by Paul Woodruff.

In Chapter VII, I will offer a personal interpretation of Halliwell‟s “dual-

aspect function” of mimesis in the light of Romano Guardini‟s concept of

“polarity”. In Chapter VIII, I will consider the influence of Aristotelian mimetic

art theory on the artwork of Nicolas Poussin.

1 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics; English translation, S. HALLIWELL, Duckworth The Poetics

of Aristotle: Translation and Commentary, Gerald and Co. Ltd., London, 1987, 31. 2 Cf. Ibid.

7

I

AN INITIAL LOOK AT MIMESIS

A. Art According to Aristotle

Aristotle describes man‟s soul as uniquely rational3 and identifies three

modes of activity that proceed from his rationality and that are thus uniquely

human: investigation (theoria), action (praxis), and production (poiesis). Each of

these modes corresponds to a particular mode of rational knowledge: investigation

is linked to scientific knowledge, action to practical wisdom or “prudence”, and

production to art.

In Nichomachean Ethics, he gives a definition of each type of knowledge.

Scientific knowledge is «a state of capacity to demonstrate» and its object is

«necessity»4. In other words, scientific knowledge is knowledge of necessary

realities, obtained by means of demonstration, proceeding from known premises

to previously unknown conclusions. It is the knowledge by which we know what

and how things are; it is the knowledge by which we come to know essences of

things and their accidental determinations. It is certain knowledge of universal and

necessary truth.

Once we know what and how things are, our actions can be guided

accordingly. This is the realm of practical wisdom which is «a true and reasoned

state of capacity to act with regard to the things that are good or bad for man»5.

Practical wisdom could also be called “prudence”. It regulates the actions that are

immanent to the subject agent, i.e. actions whose effects are primarily in the

subject6. By prudence, man guides his actions in seeking the good.

3 Cf. ARISTOTLE, Ethica Nicomachea, 1102a5–30; English translation in The Basic

Works of Aristotle, Random House, New York, 1941. 4 Cf. Ibid., 1139b22–34. 5 Ibid., 1140b4 – 6. 6 Cf. L. PRIETO, El hombre y el animal, Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, Madrid,

2008, 38.

8

Art (techne) is «a reasoned state of capacity to make»7, and could be

considered as a second, more specific type of practical knowledge. It guides

human activity in the area of producing. Because it is deals with production, with

making, and not with acting, it is different from practical wisdom/prudence8.

Aristotle makes it clear how art is different from scientific knowledge:

All art is concerned with coming into being, i.e. with contriving and considering

how something may come into being which is capable of either being or not being,

and whose origin is in the maker and not in the thing made; for art is concerned

neither with things that are, or come into being, by necessity, nor with things that

do so according to nature (since these have their origin in themselves)9.

Scientific knowledge deals with things that are or come to be by necessity.

Art deals with more contingent reality. It deals with human production, which

does not exist necessarily but is entirely dependent upon the producer.

All of Aristotle‟s writings can be classified according to each mode of

human activity and its corresponding field of knowledge. Aristotle wrote 37

works that deal with theoria, among which are Metaphysics, Physics, On the Soul,

On Generation and Corruption, Prior Analytics, and Posterior Analytics. His

writings that are concerned with praxis are six in total, including Nichomachean

Ethics, Eudemian Ethics, and Politics. His writings on poiesis are Rhetoric,

Rhetoric to Alexander, and The Poetics.

In his works on theoria and praxis, Aristotle develops a profound general

theory in addition to writing more specialized treatments of particular topics. But

in comparison to the works that deal with scientific and practical knowledge, his

books on art are not only less in number, but also less theoretical. The two

Rhetorics and The Poetics are specialized considerations of art concerned with the

types of poiesis indicated by the titles. They both assume a fundamental theory of

art, but there is no surviving work in which Aristotle articulates this theory. This

lack of theoretical articulation can explain the dearth of poetical commentary in

the Middle Ages following the rediscovery of Aristotle in the West.

7 ARISTOTLE, Ethica Nicomachea, 1140a8. 8 Ibid., 1140b4. 9 Ibid., 1140a11-15.

9

“Art” in Aristotelian philosophy «can roughly be defined as a productive

skill or activity, which matches rational and knowledgeable means to the

achievement of predetermined ends»10

. Art, like nature, is the acting towards a

specific end. Arts can either complement nature or imitate nature11

. Medicine is an

example of an art that complements nature. It intervenes in the natural processes

of the body in order to assist nature in bringing about the end of health. The

mimetic arts are those that imitate nature12

.

In The Poetics, Aristotle deals with mimetic arts, particularly that of poetry.

B. The Mimetic Arts

In the first chapter of The Poetics, Aristotle identifies arts that are «kinds of

mimesis»: painting, sculpture, poetry, dance and music13

. These arts differ from

each other according to the media that they employ in their respective productions

of mimemata14

.

Throughout the rest of The Poetics, Aristotle speaks mainly about poetry,

which is the kind of mimesis that uses the media of language, rhythm, and

melody. He mentions a few types of poetry, but he is primarily concerned with

tragedy and comedy. Only the part on tragedy is extant. Comedy and tragedy are

distinguished from each other by their objects: tragedy tends to present men as

better than they actually are, while comedy tends to present them as worse15

.

Even though The Poetics is concerned mainly with poetry, the fact that he

makes a list of other mimetic arts indicates that Aristotle possessed some type of

10 S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle: Translation and Commentary, Gerald

Duckworth and Co. Ltd., London, 1987, 70. 11 Cf. ARISTOTLE, Physica, 199a15-17; English translation in The Basic Works of

Aristotle, Random House, New York, 1941. 12 The mimetic arts have come to be described as “fine arts.” Cf. W. TATARKIEWICZ,

History of Aesthetics. I. Ancient Aesthetics, Thoemmes Press, Bristol, 1999, 142. 13 Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 31. 14 Cf. Ibid., 31 – 32. Painting and sculpture produce mimetic images through the media

of colors and shapes. The “arts of pipe and lyre” (i.e. music) use the media of melody and

rhythm. Dance uses rhythm alone. Poetry uses the media of language, melody, and

rhythm. (Aristotle also mentions another vocal art, by which he may have been referring

to acting, but this is unclear.) 15

Cf. Ibid., 32 – 33.

10

theory by which he is able to designate some arts as mimetic rather than others.

As Stephen Halliwell points out, the existence of this theory of mimetic arts «will

be confirmed by his references to painting later in the treatise (chapters 2, 4, 6, 15,

25), as well as by the general principles such as the canon of unity formulated at

the end of chapter 8»16

.

C. Distinctions about Mimesis

We can find an important aspect of the Aristotelian understanding of

mimesis from the distinction that Aristotle makes between Homer and

Empedocles17

. Empedocles‟ writings, like Homer‟s, are in verse, but this is not

enough to make them poetry. Empedocles‟ writings are natural philosophy and

intend to offer scientific propositions and affirm specific aspects of reality.

Aristotle says that mimetic discourse is only representational, not affirmative as

are the writings of Empedocles18

, and he thus implies the fictional status of poetic

mimesis, and, by extension, all other forms of mimesis. The concern of mimesis is

with «images, representations, simulations or enactments of human life, rather

than with direct claims or argument about reality»19

.

On the other hand, while there are representational and fictional aspects to

Aristotle‟s concept of poetic mimesis, he never claims that it is entirely

identifiable with either representation or fiction. Before continuing our

consideration of mimesis, I would like to employ the help of both Paul Woodruff

and Stephen Halliwell who make useful distinctions about mimesis20

.

Mimesis is not imitation. In modern English, imitation implies the existence

of something real that is imitated. As Woodruff points out, «we speak of imitation

flowers and fake flamingos, but not of imitation goblins or fake fairies, because

there are no goblins or fairies»21

. Mimesis, however, can take as its object, things

16

S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 70. 17

Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics …, 31 – 32. 18

Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 71. 19

Ibid., 72. 20 Cf. P. WOODRUFF, «Aristotle on Mimesis», in A. OKSENBERG RORTY (ed.), Essays

on Aristotle’s Poetics, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1992, 81, 89 - 91. 21 Ibid., 81.

11

which are not real; it can take fiction as its object. For example, Sophocles‟

tragedy Oedipus the King has as its object the action of Oedipus, who is an

entirely fictional character.

Subsequently, we know that mimesis is not fiction, since mimesis takes

fiction as its object, and it cannot be the object of itself. Mimesis adds something

to fiction. What exactly it adds, we shall see later.

Mimesis is not reproduction. Woodruff gives the example of reproducing a

bridle. When a bridle-maker makes a bridle based on another bridle, the bridle that

is produced is just as much a bridle as the model bridle. It is not just an “imitation

bridle”. But such is not the case with mimetic works. For example, a portrait is not

just as much a person as the subject of the portrait.

Stephen Halliwell suggests that “representation” is the English word that

comes closest to translating mimesis:

I usually favour the translation “representation” (or alternatively “portrayal”),

because the English usage of this word (and cognate forms) comes closest to the

range of meanings covered by the mimesis word-group in Greek. Thus a picture

can represent a subject, an actor can represent a character, a play represent an

action, event or story (“imitate” has none of these senses in modern English), and

in each of these cases Greek can similarly use the mimesis family of words22

.

Mimesis is a type of representation, but not every representation is mimesis.

For example, symbols are representations but are not mimetic. Besides the fact

that they represent, symbols have little in common with the mimetic arts

mentioned by Aristotle. The cross is a symbol that represents Christianity, but it is

not a mimesis of Christianity. It is not painting, sculpture, poetry, dance nor

music, which are the mimetic arts established by Aristotle.

While mimesis has something to do with representation and fiction, it is not

identifiable with either, nor is it identifiable with imitation or reproduction.

Through the following examination of what Aristotle has to say about poetic

mimesis in The Poetics, we will seek to come to a better idea of what he meant by

mimesis in general.

22 S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 71.

12

D. Mimesis and Man’s Rational Nature

Aristotle indicates two causes of poetry, which, by extension, are the causes

of mimesis in general. The first cause is man‟s universal instinct to engage in

mimetic activity (exhibited in the tendency of children to make-believe). The

second cause is man‟s tendency to take pleasure in the products of mimesis23

.

Both of these causes are rooted in man‟s rational nature. As a rational animal, man

has a need for, and takes pleasure in, the processes of learning and

understanding24

. Mimesis provides the opportunity for a process of learning and

understanding. By engaging in mimetic activity (i.e. in making fictional

representations of reality) and by contemplating mimetic products, man comes to

a better understanding of reality25

, and takes pleasure in doing so.

Poetry is the mimesis of a specific part of reality, that of human action. As

Halliwell puts it, «poetry is seen as deriving from, and satisfying, the impulse to

understand the world of human action by making and enjoying representations of

it»26

.

23 Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 34. 24 Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 79. 25 How exactly man comes to a better understanding of reality through mimesis will be

discussed further on in our consideration of the quasi-philosophical nature of poetry. 26 Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 79.

13

II

THE DUALITY OF MIMESIS

A. The “Dual-Aspect” Function

As we begin our exploration of the meaning of mimesis, I would like to

point out an important aspect that will be a helpful reference point in our inquiry.

In his book The Aesthetics of Mimesis: Ancient Texts and Modern Problems,

Stephen Halliwell suggests that what is central to mimesis is its “dual-aspect

function”, which he describes as the following:

[It is] a way of holding together the “worldlike” properties of artistic representation

– its depictions, as he [Aristotle] puts it (Poetics 9.1451a37), of things which could

be the case – with its production of objects that possess a distinctive though not

wholly autonomous, rationale of their own27

.

He is referring to a dynamic that is inherent to mimetic art. Mimetic art is

both a representation of actual reality and an artificial creation. As a

representation, it is linked to and dependent upon actual reality. But as an artificial

creation, it is partially autonomous from actual reality. We shall see this dynamic

tension re-surface in different ways as we continue our study of Aristotle‟s

consideration of mimesis in The Poetics.

B. The Duality of Mimetic Pleasure

The pleasure that man takes in mimesis is a complex issue from which we

can gain insight into the nature of mimesis itself. It comes from man‟s cognition

of the representational significance of the mimetic work and the simultaneous

psychological (often emotional) experience that comes with it.

In his own words in Chapter 4 of The Poetics, Aristotle makes very clear the

link between cognition and pleasure in the contemplation of a mimetic work:

27 S. HALLIWELL, The Aesthetics of Mimesis: Ancient Texts and Modern Problems,

Princeton University Press, Princeton, 2002, 152.

14

Here too the explanation lies in the fact that great pleasure is derived from

exercising the understanding, not just for philosophers but in the same way for all

men, though their capacity for it may be limited. It is for this reason that men enjoy

looking at images, because what happens is that, as they contemplate them, they

apply their understanding and reasoning to each element (identifying this as an

image of such-and-such a man, for instance)28

.

What Aristotle is saying here is that man delights in mimetic works because

he exercises his reason and understanding in recognizing what the product is

representing. Pleasure is derived from identifying the representational significance

of the mimesis.

However, this pleasure of recognition of representational significance is not

the only type of pleasure that can be gained from mimesis. Aristotle also

acknowledges the possibility of finding pleasure in the artistic medium itself,

separate from the recognition of the object of the artistic representation:

Since, if it happens that one has no previous familiarity with the sight, then the

object will not give pleasure qua mimetic object but because of its craftsmanship,

or colour, or for some other such reason29

.

Thus, Aristotle introduces a basic dichotomy of mimetic pleasure which has

to do with the already mentioned “dual-aspect” of mimesis. A work of mimetic art

is a representation of actual reality, but it is also an artificial creation. As in other

aspects of mimesis, this duality manifests itself in mimetic pleasure. Pleasure can

be gained both from the recognition of the representation of an actual reality and

from the appreciation of the technique of the artificial production.

It is the artificial nature of the mimetic product that makes it possible to take

pleasure in it when that which is represented is something painful: «for we take

pleasure in contemplating the most precise images of things whose sight in itself

causes us pain – such as the appearance of basest animals, or of corpses»30

. We

can take pleasure in the representation of something painful because we are

simultaneously aware that it is not real. We do not take pleasure in the painful

thing itself, but rather in the understanding of the representation, which happens to

28 Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 34. 29 Ibid. 30 Ibid.

15

be of something painful. Aristotle repeats and confirms this point in Book 1,

Chapter 11 of Rhetoric:

Again, since learning and wondering are pleasant, it follows that such things as acts

of imitation must be pleasant -- for instance, painting, sculpture, poetry -- and

every product of skillful imitation; this latter, even if the object imitated is not itself

pleasant; for it is not the object itself which here gives delight; the spectator draws

inferences (“That is a so-and-so”) and thus learns something fresh31

.

However, Aristotle makes a point in Book 8, Chapter 5 of Politics that could

seem to be contrary to the above-cited quote from the Rhetoric.

The habit of feeling pleasure or pain at mere representations is not far removed

from the same feeling about realities; for example, if anyone delights in the sight of

a statue for its beauty only, it necessarily follows that the sight of the original will

be pleasant for him32

.

Here Aristotle is saying that it is possible to take pleasure in the beautiful

features of a represented reality as such, responding to it as we would to the actual

reality that it represents. The other side of this same point is that we can likewise

feel pain before the depiction of painful things, as we would towards

correspondingly painful things in reality.

Halliwell explains well the problem presented by the two quotes:

How then are we to combine what looks as though they may be two distinct and

possibly incompatible ideas: the first, that the full cognitive experience of mimetic

work encompasses, and is modified by, the fact that the object is not real but a

product of artistic construction; the second, that responses to mimetic works are in

general closely aligned with those toward equivalent realities in the world?33

In other words, how do we reconcile the fact that on one hand, we respond

to mimetic works as non-real, but on the other hand, we still respond to them as if

they were real?

The problem can be solved, not by oversimplifying our response to mimesis,

but by understanding it as a compound reaction. The texts cited above from

31 ARISTOTLE, Rhetorica, 1371b4-10; English translation in The Basic Works of

Aristotle, Random House, New York, 1941. 32 ARISTOTLE, Politica, 1340a20-30; English translation in The Basic Works of

Aristotle, Random House, New York, 1941. 33 S. HALLIWELL, The Aesthetics of Mimesis…, 184.

16

Poetics 4, Rhetoric 1.11, and Politics 8.5 are not mutually exclusive34

. Rather,

they combine to give a double view of response to mimesis that involves both

grasping the representational significance of the mimetic work, while realizing

that it is artificial (cf. Poetics 4 and Rhetoric 1.11), and at the same time

responding to the representational significance as we would to an equivalent

actual reality (cf. Politics 8.5). Both reactions can happen at the same time.

The response that Aristotle speaks about in Politics 8.5 does not preclude

the response spoken of in Poetics 4 and Rhetoric 1.11. When we grasp the

representational significance, we are drawing on our previous experiences which

give us familiarity with the subject represented. We can react to the representation

as we would to a comparable, actually existing reality, even experiencing pain if

what is represented is a painful reality. But simultaneously we can have pleasure

because the whole experience is allowing us to grow in our understanding by

allowing us to experience something as if it were actually real. Thus, we can come

to know that which is represented in a way that approximates the knowledge we

would have of the thing if we experienced it in real life.

34 Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Aesthetics of Mimesis…, 184.

17

III

THE UNITY OF MIMESIS

In his definition of tragedy in Chapter 6, Aristotle establishes that a tragedy

is «a representation of an action which is serious, complete and of a certain

magnitude»35

. A little further on, he establishes that the plot-structure is the most

important of the six elements of tragedy, because it is the part that is most

properly the representation of action. In chapters 7 and 8, he sets about prescribing

«the form which the structure of events ought to take»36

. In discussing the «the

form which the structure of events ought to take», Aristotle is establishing the

criteria for the unity of the plot structure.

Unity, for Aristotle, is closely linked to beauty. As he says later in the

chapter, a thing is beautiful when it possesses «ordered arrangement» and

«appropriate scale (for beauty is grounded in both size and order)»37

. These two

conditions can be present if there is unity. The link between unity and “ordered

arrangement” is clear because the former necessarily implies the latter. The link

between unity and “appropriate scale” has to do with the audience. If the work is

not of an appropriate size, it cannot be perceived as a unified whole by the

audience.

Aristotle lays out three criteria for a unified and beautiful plot structure:

wholeness, appropriate size and a unitary object. (Wholeness and a unitary object

are both sub-divisions of “ordered arrangement”.)

A. Wholeness

Regarding the wholeness of the plot, he says the following:

35 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 37. 36 Ibid., 39. 37 Cf. Ibid.

18

By “whole” I mean possessing a beginning, middle and end. By “beginning” I

mean that which does not have a necessary connection with a preceding event, but

which can itself give rise naturally to some further fact or occurrence. An “end”, by

contrast, is something which naturally occurs after a preceding event, whether by

necessity or as a general rule, but need not be followed by anything else. The

“middle” involves causal connections with both what precedes and what ensues.

Consequently, well designed plot-structures ought not to begin or finish at arbitrary

points, but to follow the principles indicated38

.

Later on, in Chapter 8, he makes an important point about how these parts

ought to relate with each other: «its parts, consisting of the events, should be so

constructed that the displacement or removal of any one of them will disturb and

disjoint the work‟s wholeness»39

.

Thus, by saying the plot must be whole, he is calling for a sequence of

actions that are causally connected: the end must follow from the middle and the

middle must follow from the beginning. And they must be so connected that not

one of the actions can be removed without disrupting the storyline.

Moreover, the sequence of actions must be «a probable or necessary

succession of events»40

. By this phrase he means that when one event follows

another, it should not be a random, arbitrary sequence. Event B should be the type

of event that would probably or necessarily follow event A. “Probably” means

that events like event B follow events like event A for the most part.

“Necessarily” means that events like event B always follow events like event A.

B. Appropriate Size

The next principle that he considers is that of “appropriate size”. A thing

cannot be beautiful if too small or too large. When it is too small, the «perception

of it is practically instantaneous and so cannot be experienced». When it is too

large, the «contemplation of it cannot be a single experience, and it is not possible

to derive a sense of unity and wholeness from our perception of it»41

. Likewise, a

plot structure is beautiful only when we can derive «a sense of unity and

38 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 39. 39 Ibid., 40. 40 Ibid., 39. 41 Ibid.

19

wholeness from our perception of it». Such a perception requires that it have a

«length which can be easily held in memory»42

.

Halliwell specifies that for Aristotle, the perception of beauty «depends […]

on the comprehension of the purpose or function which gives significance to a

creature‟s form – which sees an end or telos in the form»43

. Likewise, with a plot-

structure, its beauty depends upon being able to see its telos, which is the chain of

events that it dramatizes. This means that it should be of such a size that enables

us to easily see and understand the chain of events44

.

Continuing his thoughts on the proper size of a plot-structure, Aristotle says

the following:

The limit which accords with the true nature of the matter is this: beauty of size

favours as large a structure as possible, provided that coherence is maintained. A

concise definition [of the proper limit] is to say that the sufficient limit of a poem‟s

scale is the scope required for a probable or necessary succession of events which

produce a transformation either from affliction to prosperity, or the reverse45

.

To illustrate that appropriate size is crucial to beauty, Aristotle gives the

example of an animal that is a thousand miles long. It would be impossible to

perceive the unity and wholeness of such an animal, and thus it would not be

beautiful46

. Similarly, a six-day long drama would be ridiculously large. Despite

the obvious practical difficulties of producing such a play, there would be so

much information and so many events, that it would be impossible to easily grasp

and appreciate the entire story. It would be an unbeautiful work of art because it

would not have a length which «can be easily held in memory».

C. Unitary Object of Action

The final element of a beautiful plot structure is that of having a unitary

object of action.

42 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 39. 43 S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 99. 44 Cf. Ibid. 45 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 40. 46 Cf. Ibid., 39.

20

A plot structure does not possess unity (as some believe) by virtue of centring on

an individual. For just as a particular thing may have many random properties,

some of which do not combine to make a single entity, so a particular character

may perform many actions which do not yield a single “action”47

.

Aristotle gives the example of poets who wrote Heracleids:

They believe that because Heracles was a single individual, a plot-structure about

him ought to have unity. As in other respects, Homer is exceptional by the fineness

of his insight into this point […] although composing an Odyssey, he did not

include everything that happened to the hero […] Instead, he constructed the

Odyssey around a single action of the kind I mean, and likewise with the Iliad48

.

If the plot structure is just a conglomeration of episodes, it will not be

beautiful. All of the events of the plot must come together to comprise a single,

unified action. In the case of the Odyssey, this single action is Odysseus‟ struggle

to return home.

D. The Increased Intelligibility of Mimesis

We have considered the three criteria for unity and beauty in poetic

mimesis: wholeness, appropriate size, and a unitary object.

Mimetic unity is crucial to understanding mimesis in general. It is unity that

is the source of a higher level of intelligibility. Ordinary life often does not present

us with things that are whole, well-sized and unified. It is the job of the mimetic

artist to take the raw material of life and give it this order. In so doing, he makes

something that is more intelligible and easier to understand than ordinary life.

As Halliwell puts it,

Poetry must somehow make more sense than much of the raw material of life does,

and this higher intelligibility is part and parcel of what Ar. understands by unity

[…] Successfully unified works of art therefore, on Ar.‟s premises, allow us to

experience images of a fictional reality (“events which could occur”, ch. 9) which

has a more lucid or transparent significance than what we readily find in the world

around us49

.

47 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 40. 48 Ibid. 49 S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 103.

21

To illustrate this point, let us consider again the example of the Odyssey.

Odysseus‟ life from his departure from Troy until his arrival at Ithaca would have

been a huge period of time full of many details, some more significant than others.

Homer sifts through all of those possible details and chooses only those that are

relevant to an overarching action, which is the unitary object of his poem:

Odysseus‟ struggle to return home. He does not recount every meal that Odysseus

ate or every stop that he made along the way.

In doing this, he provides us with a product that is based upon, yet is more

intelligible than, the entire life of Odysseus from Troy to Ithaca. If we were to

look at a day-by-day account of Odysseus‟ journey, we would be overwhelmed

with information and irrelevant details. Homer takes details from the journey and

makes into a unified mimesis, one that enables us to better understand the

struggles and difficulties of Odysseus.

The unity of mimesis enables us to experience a reality that is similar to, but

more meaningful than, actual reality. The increased intelligibility of mimesis is

the source of its quasi-philosophical nature, which will be considered in the next

chapter.

22

IV

THE QUASI-PHILOSOPHICAL STATUS OF MIMESIS

In Chapter 9 of The Poetics, Aristotle says the following:

It is for this reason that poetry is both more philosophical and more serious than

history, since poetry speaks more of universals, history of particulars. A

“universal” comprises a kind of speech or action which belongs by probability or

necessity to a certain kind of character – something that poetry aims at despite its

addition of particular names. A “particular” by contrast, is (for example) what

Alcibiades did or experienced50

.

It is in this chapter that Aristotle establishes the “quasi-philosophical” status

of poetry. Poetry is comprised of particulars, but they are particulars that have an

intelligible coherence thanks to the fact that they are connected by probability or

necessity. It is because of this principle of probability and necessity that poetry is

“quasi-universal” and thus “quasi-philosophical”.

To understand what Aristotle means when he says that poetry is closer to

philosophy than history, we need to zoom out and take a brief look at Aristotelian

epistemology. First, I would like to focus specifically on what he means by

“universal” and then go on to consider the different forms of knowledge,

including poetry and history.

According to Aristotle, a universal is «that which is of such a nature as to be

predicated of many subjects»51

. The following definition of “universal” expounds

upon the Aristotelian definition:

Universals are those ideas which, while excluding whatever constitutes the

difference of things of the same genus or species, represent that which is necessary

to their constitution, is essential, and is therefore common to all, remaining fixed in

all vicissitudes (universalia post rem, in re)52

.

50

ARISTOTLE, The Poetics …, 41. 51 ARISTOTLE, De Interpretatione, 17a37; English translation in The Basic Works of

Aristotle, Random House, New York, 1941. 52 A. PICHLER, «Universal», in C. HERBERMANN – E. PACE – C. PALLEN – T. SHAHAN

– J. WYNNE (edd.), The Catholic Encyclopedia, XV, The Universal Knowledge

Foundation, Inc., 1913, 182 – 183 (emphasis added).

23

The human intellect possesses universal knowledge when it grasps

universals. Universal knowledge is the mind‟s intentional possession of the

universal form (or “essence”) of a thing. Knowledge begins with sensation, which

enables us to perceive sensible particulars in our surroundings but is incapable of

knowing what each thing is in itself. Sensation only presents us with sense data,

perceiving the special sense-objects of sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch; and

the common sense-objects of movement, rest, number, shape and size53

. It does

not grasp the abstract forms of the things. We know a thing only when our

intellect has gone beyond the sensation of its particular accidents and grasped the

universal essence of the thing, which is that which makes it be what it is. The

essence determines what a thing is, and in so doing, makes it possible for the thing

to be known, because man can only know determinate realities54

.

There are different levels of human intellectual knowledge, ranging from

experience to philosophy. Experience, the lowest form, is knowledge of particular

things, but it does not grasp the probable and necessary relationships that exist

between things. Through experience, we can know a group of things that are

similar to each other, but we cannot know why they are similar. For example,

through experience, a man can judge «when Callias was ill of this disease, this did

him good, and similarly in the case of Socrates and in many other cases»55

. But

only the one who possesses philosophy, i.e. scientific knowledge, can judge that a

cure «has done good to all persons of a certain constitution marked off in one

class when they were ill of this disease»56

because he knows «the why and the

cause»57

.

Through experience, a man sees that different individuals have similar

symptoms, and thus begins to move towards universal knowledge, but he is still

53 Cf. ARISTOTLE, De Anima, 418a10-19; English translation, De anima (On the Soul),

Penguins Books, London, 1986. 54 Cf. ARISTOTLE, Analytica Posteriora, 1.24.86a4-7; English translation in The Basic

Works of Aristotle, Random House, New York, 1941. 55 ARISTOTLE, Metaphysica, 1.1.981a8-9; English translation in The Basic Works of

Aristotle, Random House, New York, 1941. 56 Ibid., 1.1.981a10-11. 57 Ibid., 1.1.981a30.

24

not there. He possesses only an “incipient universal” which is «a collection of

individuals that resemble one another, and is thus a “universal” whose boundaries,

and therefore whose content, are vague and imprecise, or confused (apeirai)»58

.

On the other hand, the one who possesses scientific knowledge possesses

the highest form of the universal, which is «the abstracted universal that

comprehends only features common to a class of particulars and abstracts from

the particulars themselves and all their idiosyncratic features»59

. Scientific

knowledge simplifies indeterminate experience and identifies the essential and

universal:

The more demonstration becomes particular the more it sinks into an indeterminate

manifold, while universal demonstration tends to be simple and determinate. But

objects so far as they are an indeterminate manifold are unintelligible, so far as

they are determinate, intelligible: they are therefore intelligible rather in so far as

they are universal than in so far as they are particular60

.

History and poetry are located between these two extremes of the

Aristotelian epistemological spectrum; history is closer to experience and poetry

to philosophy61

. History is the recounting of a series of particular events that

actually happened within a given period of time. However, these events are not

necessarily connected by probability or necessity. They are particulars that bear an

accidental relation to each other. They are just a juxtaposition of events within a

given period of time62

. Often, one event follows another simply by chance. Thus,

history does not have the unity and universal intelligibility that can be found in

poetry. Poetry can make use of events taken from history, but it must always

situate them within the unified whole of a mimetic work.

Silvia Carli makes an interesting point regarding history saying that the

accidental character and lack of unity of history need not be absolute. While it is

true that many of the details recorded in history are only accidentally connected,

this does not mean that the historian cannot identify causes and consequences

58 S. CARLI, «Poetry Is More Philosophical Than History: Aristotle on Mimêsis and

Form», The Review of Metaphysics 64/2 (2010), 310-311. 59 Ibid., 311. 60 ARISTOTLE, Analytica Posteriora, 1.24.86a4-7. 61 Cf. S. CARLI, «Poetry Is More…», 305. 62 Cf. Ibid., 313.

25

amongst those events. For example, the battle of Salamis and the battle against the

Carthaginians in Sicily took place simultaneously, but without a direct relation of

one to the other. The simultaneous occurrence of the battles is an accidental fact

that the historian is obliged to record. Nevertheless, the historian is not

constrained to report only these accidental events. He can go deeper and identify

the causes preceding the battles and the consequences in their respective regions63

.

This is why history is closer to experience but not entirely identified with it.

In pointing out causal relationships amongst particulars, it is beginning to move

away from experience and closer to the universal knowledge of philosophy. Still,

it will always be bound to the actual events that it records, so it will be only

accidentally unified, since in real life things often happen by accident. Thus,

history is essentially different from poetry64

.

Poetry shares qualities with both, but it is closer to the side of philosophy

than to the side of history. It does represent particular actions as history does, but

they are particular actions connected in a probable and necessary manner.

For Aristotle, a universal is something that is «predicated of many»65

, and

true knowledge can only be had when one moves beyond the particulars and

grasps the universal. Poetry deals with universals of human action and passion,

which «belong by probability or necessity to a certain kind of character»66

, and

can thus can be predicated of many of that same kind of character. Probable are

the things that happen for the most part. Necessary are the things that happen

always. In poetry, the particular speeches and actions always belong by

probability or necessity to the characters from which they proceed.

The actions of poetry not only belong to their characters by probability and

necessity, but the actions themselves are connected in the plot by probability and

necessity. As discussed in the previous chapter, one of the basic criteria of the

beauty and unity of a work of poetic mimesis is its wholeness, i.e. the probability

63 Cf. S. CARLI, «Poetry Is More…», 317. 64 Cf. Ibid., 319. 65

ARISTOTLE, De Interpretatione, 17a37. 66

ARISTOTLE, The Poetics …, 41.

26

and necessity of the succession of its events. «Unity […] entails a kind of

cohesive “logic” in the sequence of action dramatised by a tragedy; each link in

the dramatic chain must be firmly interlocked with what proceeds and follows

it»67

.

This probability and necessity, both at the level of character and at the level

of plot, is what gives poetry universal significance.

The poet portrays particular events the way they would be if there was

nothing extraneous to the plot (i.e. the universal form of actions connected by

probability and necessity) that he applies to it. In this way he acts analogously as a

creator. In nature, each individual thing immanently “incarnates” the universal

form that makes it be what it is. In art, the poet “incarnates” a universal form of

action, present in his own mind, in the particular actions and events of the

characters. He presents actions as if their form had complete power to determine

and rule its matter, excluding from the plot all accidental relations68

. Unlike

history which is more faithful to the matter of the events, poetry is more faithful to

the form69

. He presents only particular actions that follow from each other by

probability and necessity.

After determining his plot, the overall form of action that governs the

drama, the poet accordingly fits in the characters, their goals, their decision-

making, and their actions. The characters themselves are appropriate for the

accomplishment of the plot, and the actions follow from each character by

probability and necessity. For example, the actions of Oedipus in Oedipus Rex

always follow from his head-strong, resourceful character. He does not give up

the search for the cause of Thebe‟s plague, even when he senses that the solution

could be connected to his own downfall. If he were not to stubbornly pursue the

solution, the progress of the plot would be broken70

. Because Oedipus is a head-

strong, resourceful character, the actions that he carries out must be those actions

which follow by probability or necessity from head-strong, resourceful people.

67 S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 105. 68 Cf. S. CARLI, «Poetry Is More…», 323. 69

Cf. Ibid., 325. 70 Cf. Ibid., 330-331.

27

In this we find part of the universality of poetic mimesis: each character acts

in accordance with his own character. In actual reality, this is not always the case.

In reality, it is possible for a stubborn person to suddenly act meekly. However, in

poetic mimesis this is not so because such accidental human activity does not fit

its universal nature. «The poet composes unitary chains of causally connected

events by exploiting the sources of regularity of human conduct provided by the

nature of the dramatis personae as the origin of their deeds and sufferings»71.

In her essay, Carli gives an excellent summary regarding the quasi-

philosophical nature of poetry. It is worth quoting at length:

Like the lover of wisdom, the poet has the capacity to see the determinate formal

structures that make our world and its transformations intelligible. His

quasiphilosophical nature is thus his instinct for unity, form and finality. He is so

attuned to wholeness in his imagination that he is able to transfigure even the

contingent domain of the anthrôpina [human action] into a remarkably intelligible

world. Just as the object of the philosopher‟s theôria is that which is most

knowable in itself, the product of the poet‟s activity is a story in which the reasons

of the dramatic character‟s happiness or unhappiness appear with incomparable

clarity. The poet brings to fore the structured regularity of unitary chains of events,

and thus enables us to comprehend not only that something happened, but also why

[…] Indeed we can say his mimetic activity is a making because it does not, as a

rule, reproduce the order of ta genomena [actual happenings], it is not a making up

or invention but rather the discovery of the eidos of actions72

.

Philosophy and poetry both seek to give access to the “why” of reality,

going beyond the immediacy of experience to the principles that are not

immediately apparent but are more intelligible in themselves. However, there is a

major difference between their respective modes of doing so. The philosopher

begins with the sensible and moves to the intelligible principles, providing us with

a clearly articulated explanation of the universal. He provides us with a mediated

understanding of the phenomena73

.

The poet, on the other hand, moves beyond the immediacy of experience in

a different manner. He takes particular events and orders them according to a

universal form. The form is not abstracted from the particular events, but it is

made more easily graspable thanks to the artful arrangement of the poet and the

71 S. CARLI, «Poetry Is More…», 331. 72 Cf. Ibid., 333-334. 73 Cf. Ibid., 335.

28

exclusion of all accidental events that do not pertain to it. Instead of explicitly

pointing out the universals, the poet leaves them implicit, allowing those in the

audience to discover them on their own. This mode of presenting universals could

be described as «mediated immediacy»: immediate experience, through the

intervention of the poet, becomes a mediated explanation of reality74

.

We make sense of poetic mimesis by drawing on the universal concepts that

we have already gained through accumulation of particular experiences75

. In other

words, we recognize the universals in poetry because we have already grasped

them to some extent in and through the experience of ordinary life. However, the

benefit of poetry is that it presents particulars in a way that makes the grasping of

these universals easier. As Halliwell puts it,

So in contemplating poetry (or other works of mimetic art) we draw on our real

experience of the world, but we do so in order to understand events which possess

a special degree of coherence and, therefore, significance76

.

Poetry represents and organizes particulars in such a way that the universals

are more obvious and more readily grasped, thanks to this «special degree of

coherence», i.e. the special degree of probability and necessity. This facilitates an

experience that allows us to confirm and verify universal concepts that we have

already grasped, as well as to pick up on new universals that we have not

previously noticed.

Poetry is more than a simulation of particulars. Its quasi-universal

significance gives it its value and makes it be more than the mere copying of

reality. If its universal status were lacking, it would be nothing more than fictional

particulars, and thus would be open to Plato‟s criticism that poetry is false and

misleading77

.

It should be noted that The Poetics takes a balanced view of the particular

and universal status of poetry, going excessively in neither direction. The fact that

universals are presented through the particulars of poetry does not prevent or

74 Cf. S. CARLI, «Poetry Is More…», 335. 75 Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 107. 76 Ibid. 77 Cf. Ibid., 108.

29

discourage the vividness and verisimilitude of the particulars. In The Poetics 4,

Aristotle says that we take pleasure in «the most precise images», and in The

Poetics 17, he calls for dramatic vividness78

.

Despite the universal character of poetry, it can never be understood as

purely philosophical. It does give universality to particulars, but it always remains

a representation of particulars. It is not a direct representation of universals.

Moreover, being a work of fiction, it does not provide the certain knowledge of

reality that philosophy provides. Poetry remains quasi-philosophical, partway

between history and philosophy.

Universals are implicit in poetry, but they are not directly asserted. As an

artificial, fictional work, poetry is in no position and makes no claims to be able to

directly affirm universal truths about reality, as philosophy does. However,

although it is does not directly affirm universal truths, it does embody them79

.

Another way to describe how universals are contained in poetry is to say

that they are “emergent”. In other words, they do not lie on the surface of the

particulars, but only come to light in and through the active interpretation and

cognition of the audience80

. This active understanding is what Aristotle refers to

as manthanein in The Poetics 4: «it is for this reason that men enjoy looking at

images, because what happens is that, as they contemplate them, they apply their

understanding and reasoning to each element […]»81

.

To illustrate how universals are emergent in mimetic works, let us consider

The Skate by Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin. At first glance, this still-life may

appear to be a random combination of particulars: a dead skate hangs from a hook

flanked by a cat and dead fish on one side, and various kitchen accoutrements on

78 Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 108 – 109. 79 Cf. Ibid., 110. 80 Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Aesthetics of Mimesis…, 198. 81 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 34.

30

the other. However, upon closer inspection, we can discover interesting universal

relationships82

.

The painting contains two categories of objects: animals and culinary

equipment. The animals are either dead or alive: the cat is full of life, while the

skate, fish, and clams are the opposite. Looking at the whole picture from left to

right, we notice a very interesting spectrum. We go from alive to dead to never-

alive. The cat is alive; the fish were alive but are now dead; the cooking tools

never had life and never will.

Going deeper, we see that all of these things have something in common:

they are at the service of man. The skate links the live animal world of the cat to

the inert pots and dishes. It is clearly dead, but its grinning mouth gives it an odd

lifelike look, and its full body appears more alive than the artificial objects to the

right. Everything in this picture has been affected in some way by man to serve

him. The cat has been domesticated to give him companionship; the fish have

killed to give him nourishment; and the various utensils have been made to

facilitate his meals. From all of this emerges an interesting universal truth: all

things, either alive or lifeless, are subject to man. The absence of man from the

picture makes this reality all the more poignant.

Thus, through mimetic representation, a seemingly random collection of

items can communicate a universal truth, as from this still-life emerges the truth

of human superiority over the animal and non-animal worlds.

The advantage of mimesis is that, being quasi-philosophical, it can have the

best of both worlds. It can provide us with engaging and vivid representations of

particular events that at the same time carry with them universal knowledge.

Poetry and all other forms of mimesis take «the raw material of life»83

, unify it,

make it intelligible, and present a product that provides us with universal

knowledge of the world. As Halliwell says,

82 Cf. G. HAGBERG, «Aristotle‟s “Mimesis” and Abstract Art», Philosophy 59/229

(1984), 369–370. 83 Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 103.

31

Poetry needs the convincingness of vivid particulars precisely in order to open up

for its audiences the quasi-philosophical scope of comprehension and discernment

that it is capable of providing. The extent to which universals can be discovered in

a work will depend on an interplay between the depth and richness of the poem‟s

imagined world (the complexity of the work‟s explanatory-cum-causal pattern of

human action and experience) and the degree of engaged understanding that is

brought to it by the mind of the spectator or reader84

.

In other words, the “grasp-ability” of the universals in the poetic work is

proportional to two things: on the part of the poem, it is proportional to the

vividness of the fictional reality that is presented; and on the part of the audience,

it proportional to the level of participation and understanding that they bring to the

contemplation of the mimetic work. But these two things are inter-related. The

more vivid is the portrayal of the particulars, the more interesting and engaging

will the poem be. The more interesting and engaging the poem, the more engaged

will be the mind of the spectator in understanding and grasping the universal

truths that are embodied and emergent in the particulars.

Why is it the case that the level of engagement is proportional to the level of

vividness of the particulars? When the mimetic object is more precise and

realistic, the more we are able to learn about and understand the reality that it

represents. As we established previously, it is from this understanding that we

gain pleasure. The more vivid the particulars are, the more pleasurable the act of

contemplating the mimetic work will be. The more pleasure we gain from the

contemplation, the more motivated we will be to engage in it.

In addition, the more realistic the mimesis, the more our psychological

response will be like the response we would have if we were confronted with an

actual instance of that which is represented. This, in turn, would contribute to the

degree of engagement that we have with the work. This point will be discussed

further on in our consideration of the mimetic effect.

Here again, we are dealing with another consequence of the dual-aspect

function of mimesis. Because it is a representation of reality, poetry represents

things that we experience in reality, which are always particulars. But because

84 S. HALLIWELL, The Aesthetics of Mimesis…, 199.

32

mimesis is an artificial creation, the artist can give it a level of unity and

intelligibility, and hence universality, that is not found in actual reality.

33

V

THE SEMI-AUTONOMOUS STATUS OF MIMESIS

The dynamic of the duality of mimesis manifests itself once again in respect

to the standards of correctness to which it is subject. As artificial products,

mimetic works are partially exempt from certain standards of correctness, as long

as the internal requirements of the art are respected. However, as representations

of reality, mimetic works are still subject to a certain level of technical accuracy.

We will now attempt to understand both sides of this duality.

A. The Exemption of Mimesis from Complete Technical Accuracy

In regards to poetry‟s partial exemption from truth, Aristotle allows room

for deviation in two aspects: the marvelous and the «impossible yet plausible».

Aristotle‟s point of departure is that mimesis is fictional and non-affirmative

in the first place. It is not meant to be, nor should it be understood as, a

completely accurate “copy” of reality, nor as a source of scientific knowledge of

reality. Its main concern is the achievement of mimetic effect, which in the case of

tragedy is the arousal and catharsis of the emotions of pity and fear.

Its fictional, non-affirmative status allows poetry a certain amount of lee-

way in its portrayal of reality. Aristotle allows it to deviate from the truth, as long

as the achievement of the mimetic effect requires such as deviation.

In Chapter 24 of The Poetics, Aristotle allows for «the marvelous»85

Halliwell defines marvelous as «things which strike and compel our attention

because they diverge from, or even contradict, our normal expectations and

experience»86

. Halliwell also points out that «the marvelous» is a delicate issue for

Aristotle because at first sight it seems to contradict his insistence that all the

events of the plot-structure follow from one another by probability and necessity.

85

Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics …, 60. 86 S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 174.

34

“The irrational”, which means the realm of events that are not intelligible by

normal causal explanation, is the very antithesis of the probability or necessity to

which the Poetics constantly reverts. Ar. is now attempting to suggest how a theory

grounded on the latter can still accommodate the former87

.

Aristotle resolves this problem by introducing the following standard:

«events which are impossible but plausible should be preferred to those which are

possible but implausible»88

. In other words, events which could not follow, but

seem to be able to follow, should be preferred to events which could follow, but

seem to not be able to follow.

I propose that this maxim can be seen as a qualification, not a contradiction,

of his “probability and necessity” criterion. Aristotle still wants the events of the

plot structure to be connected by probability and necessity. All that he is saying

here is that in some cases it is acceptable to have events that only seem to follow

by probability and necessity, i.e. events that are impossible yet plausible.

With this qualification, he is making an allowance only for exceptional

situations. The precaution that immediately follows is a reminder that this

principle does not open the door entirely to irrationality: «plots should not consist

of parts which are irrational. So far as possible, there should be no irrational

component […]»89

. If the poet can use plausible possibilities instead of plausible

impossibilities, he should do so.

This “bending of the rules” is acceptable for two reasons: negatively,

because the end of mimesis is not to make affirmations about how things actually

are in reality; and positively, because the end of poetry is the cathartic arousal of

emotion.

In a number of different places in The Poetics, Aristotle makes it clear that

mimesis is not scientific, i.e. it does not purport to directly provide certain,

universal knowledge about reality. In Chapter 1, he distinguishes between Homer

and Empedocles, saying that Empedocles is not a poet but a natural philosopher90

.

87 S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 175. 88 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 60. 89 Ibid. 90 Cf. Ibid., 32.

35

As already mentioned, with this distinction he implicitly separates poetry from the

ends of natural philosophy.

In addition, in Chapter 25, he makes it clear that mimesis can go beyond the

actual in its representation of reality:

Since the poet, like the painter or any other image-maker, is a mimetic artist, he

must in any particular instance use mimesis to portray one of three objects: the sort

of things which were or are the case; the sort of things which men say or think to

be the case; the sort of things that should be the case91

.

Since it is not the exclusive end of poetry to always portray things as they

are, it is, to a certain extent independent from external reality. It is not entirely

subject to rigid external norms of accuracy because it is not necessary for mimesis

to show external realities as they actually are.

The mimetic work itself determines to some degree the criteria by which it

should be judged92

. This is because its end is the achievement of mimetic effect.

The mimetic work is judged by whether it achieves this end, and not so much by

its correspondence to external reality.

In the case of tragic poetic mimesis, its mimetic effect is the cathartic

arousal of pity and fear93

. Thus, if the achievement of this effect requires an event

that is impossible yet plausible, the introduction of this irrational element is

acceptable as long as it fits smoothly into the overarching unity of the plot.

Aristotle goes on to point out the two kinds of error possible in poetry.

Furthermore, correct standards in poetry are not identical with those in politics or

in any other particular art. Two kinds of failure are possible in poetry – one

intrinsic, and the other contingent94

.

A failure is intrinsic to poetry if the poet «lacks the capacity to achieve what

he sets out to portray», i.e. if he fails to produce a representation that has the

mimetic effect proper to it. A mistake is contingent or extrinsic to poetry if it is

91 Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 61. 92 Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 178. 93 Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 37. 94 Ibid., 61.

36

only a matter of technical accuracy. Aristotle gives the example of portraying a

horse «with its two right legs simultaneously forward»95

. Aristotle has no problem

with this, as long as the poet «achieves the goal of art […] that is, if by these

means he increases the emotional impact either of the particular part or of some

other part of the work»96

.

But again, Aristotle qualifies his statement, saying that this does not allow

for total freedom from technical accuracy.

If, however, the goal could be achieved better, or just as successfully, without the

particular technical error, then the mistake is not acceptable: for, if possible, the

poetry should be altogether free from mistakes97

.

B. Another Dual Aspect of Mimesis

In the previously considered passages, Aristotle goes back and forth in his

attempt to present a balanced view of how poetry ought to be judged. In summary,

he is establishing that poetry should be as accurate as possible, but without being

unduly shackled by the demands of technical accuracy. This seems to me to be

another manifestation of duality of mimesis.

On one hand, in order to have representational significance, it must be an

accurate portrayal of reality. If it is not at least partially accurate, we will not be

able to recognize in the work something that corresponds to our previous

experience. If recognition is impossible, a process of understanding is impossible.

If understanding is impossible, the mimetic work is no longer mimetic because it

no longer offers an opportunity for learning and understanding, which is why we

engage in mimetic activity in the first place98

.

But on the other hand, in order to create a representation of reality that

produces mimetic effect, it must be allowed to deviate from reality when it is

necessary to do so. This back-and-forth between exemption and non-exemption

95 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 61. 96 Ibid. 97 Ibid. 98 Cf. Ibid., 34.

37

from accurate portrayal of reality can be seen as inconsistent, but Halliwell makes

an interesting point that argues otherwise:

This need not be construed as a radical inconsistency, but it can stand as an

instructive example of a tension which could no doubt be found in certain

later critics too: between, on the one hand, an impulse to establish general

critical values, and, on the other, a desire to allow individual artists and their

works a generous independence from preconceived norms99

.

When it comes to poetry, it is not a question of “either-or” but of “both-

and”. Poetry is both representation of reality and an artificial work aiming for its

proper end. As a representation of reality, it must strive for accuracy, but as an

artificial work, is allowed to deviate when the end so requires it. Poetry may be

fiction and thus imaginary, but it is so in relation always to reality.

By “fiction” we understand […] the modeling of a world whose status is that of an

imaginary, constructed parallel to the real, spatiotemporal realm of the artist’s

and audience’s experience: imaginary in that it rests upon the shared agreement

between the maker and recipients of the mimetic work to suspend the norms of

literal truth; but “parallel,” in that its interpretation depends on standards of

explanatory and causal coherence that are essentially derived from and grounded

in real experience100

.

This is why we can say that poetry is “semi-autonomous”. It is both tied to

reality as its representation, but independent from it as a mimetic product. As a

mimetic product, it provides a unique opportunity for learning and understanding.

Such opportunities rarely exist in reality as such, that is why it is necessary to

create artificial settings. Why this is so will be discussed in the next section.

It is the semi-autonomous nature of art that frees the artist from the

constraints of reality and enables him to reshape reality and thus create

experiences that are charged with significance. As one author aptly put it:

L‟opera d‟arte non riflette il mondo con la morta automaticità dello specchio, ma

trasforma la realtà in segni, la riempie di significati e diviene così un mezzo attivo

di conoscenza di quest‟ultima. Immagine di una realtà in un‟altra, l‟esperienza

99 S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 180. 100 S. HALLIWELL, The Aesthetics of Mimesis…, 166 (emphasis added).

38

artistica comporta un lavoro di selezione, traduzione e riorganizzazione dei dati che

la realtà gli fornisce101

.

101 S. DE ANGELI, «Mimese e techne», Quaderni Urbinati di Cultura Classica, New

Series, Vol. 28, No. 1 (1988), 32.

39

VI

AN OVERVIEW OF ARISTOTELIAN MIMESIS

A. Synthesis

Even though the principles we have considered are taken only from

Aristotle‟s writing on poetic mimesis, they are applicable to all other forms of

mimesis. What makes poetry different from the other mimetic arts is the fact that

it uses language, rhythm and melody as the media of its mimesis. None of the

principles considered are intrinsically linked to the use of these differentiating

media, so they can be applied, by extension, to the forms of mimesis that use other

media.

The mimetic arts for Aristotle are painting, sculpture, poetry, dance and

music102

. Mimesis is best translated by “representation,” but it is not entirely

identifiable with it. Likewise, it is more than “imitation”, “reproduction”, and

“fiction”.

One of the first things that become apparent as we consider mimesis is what

Halliwell refers to as its “dual-aspect function”, its double-status both as a

representation of reality and as an artificial creation.

Mimesis arises from man‟s tendency, rooted in his rational nature, to engage

in mimetic behavior and to take pleasure in mimetic objects. The pleasure that we

take in mimetic objects comes from the opportunity of new learning and

understanding that it provides us. Even if what is represented is painful, we have

an overall pleasurable experience because, aware of the artificial status of the

work, we are able to learn and understand more about the thing while having an

experience equivalent to, but not as full as, the experience we would have if we

actually encountered the thing in reality.

102 Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 31.

40

Unity is an essential element of mimesis. It is its unity that makes it more

intelligible than ordinary reality. The criteria for its unity are wholeness,

appropriate size, and a unitary object. “Probability and necessity” are essential to

the wholeness of the work, and thus to its unity.

Mimesis is quasi-philosophical precisely because it gives this special level

of probability and necessity to the particulars that it represents, thus adding a

universal aspect to the particulars. Universals are “embodied” in the particulars

and are more easily grasped by the mind thanks to the super-real unity and

intelligibility of the mimetic work. Because mimesis is an artificial creation, the

artist can give it a level of unity and intelligibility that is not often found in actual

reality.

Finally we saw how mimesis is “semi-autonomous” in its portrayal of the

reality because its end is not to offer certain, affirmative knowledge of actual

reality. Due to its artificial nature, it is allowed to deviate when the achievement

of its end requires such deviation; but due to its representational nature, it should

always strive to be as accurate as possible.

The recurring theme with mimesis is its double status as representation

connected to reality and as an artificial creation independent from reality. Man

takes pleasure in mimetic work because he experiences it like a real thing while

simultaneously being aware that it is artificial. The plot in poetry, while being a

simulation of human action as it occurs in reality, makes human action more

intelligible than it actually is in real life, thanks to its special degree of unity.

While being a representation of vivid, life-like particulars, poetry artificially

embodies universals through the particular events that are represented. Mimesis is

partially autonomous due to its artificiality, yet it is not entirely so because it is

still linked to reality as a representation of it.

B. A Possible Definition

41

Having given a brief analysis of key passages that refer to mimesis in

Aristotle‟s Poetics, I would now like to consider a possible definition of mimesis

as proposed by Paul Woodruff in his essay «Aristotle on Mimesis»103

.

In this essay, Woodruff offers an interesting hypothesis, saying that to

produce mimesis is to give fiction the power to engage us as if it were real104

. He

goes on to make a convincing case by seeking a definition of mimesis that works

for music. Since music is one of the more difficult media of mimesis to

understand, he holds that a definition of mimesis that applies to music will also

apply to the other mimetic media105

.

In Politics, Aristotle observes that music contains likeness of virtue and vice

because our characters are affected when we listen to music106

. Citing Aristotle‟s

Problemata, Woodruff speaks about the how melody and rhythm can have

likeness to character: «Melody and rhythm are motions, and so are actions; both

kinds of motion, when perceived, set up corresponding motions in the mind of the

audience»107

.

Actions are both indicative and formative of character:

The music that corresponds to a given type of character simulates that character in

the listener by setting up appropriate motions in his soul. Listening to heroic music,

I feel heroic rhythms pulsing through my soul, and these are just the motions that I

would feel if I were a hero engaged in heroic action […] This music, then, is like a

heroic character. It does for me what it would do for me to have a heroic character;

and if I listen to the music regularly, my soul will become accustomed to motions

of that kind, and I will in fact develop a heroic character108

.

Based on this analysis of the Aristotelian understanding of music, Woodruff

suggests the following as a possible definition of mimesis: «mimesis is the art of

103

P. WOODRUFF, «Aristotle on Mimesis», in A. OKSENBERG RORTY (ed.), Essays on

Aristotle’s Poetics, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1992, 73 – 95. 104 Cf. Ibid., 80. 105 Cf. Ibid., 91. 106 Cf. ARISTOTLE, Politica, 1340a22, a41. 107 P. WOODRUFF, «Aristotle on Mimesis»…, 91; Cf. ARISTOTLE, Problemata, 919b26

ff., 920a3ff. 108 P. WOODRUFF, «Aristotle on Mimesis»…, 91.

42

arranging for one thing to have an effect that properly belongs to another: M is a

mimema of O just in case M has an effect that is proper to O»109

.

In other words, mimesis breaks the natural order, artificially producing

effects that are naturally proper to other things. It provides us a pleasant way to

experience and learn more about reality. For example, a portrait of a lion gives us

an opportunity to calmly study a lion without the fear or concern that we would

have if we actually were in front of a live lion. Similarly, heroic music gives us

the opportunity to develop courageous habits of mind in an enjoyable and

pleasurable manner110

.

This definition fits poetry as well. Poetry is fictional representation of

human action made in such a way that it causes in us the effects that are normally

reserved for actual experiences. Poetry causes in us a vicarious experience of

emotion similar to the experience we would have if we were actually carrying out

or undergoing the represented actions111

.

The definition also works for the figurative arts of painting and sculpture.

Pictures and sculptures have some of the effects that belong to the originals

because they allow us to experience the effects of some of visual aspects of the

originals112

.

For mimesis to produce effects proper to the originals, it need not represent

every single feature of the original. It need only take on the features necessary for

achieving the effect at which it aims: «the lion-picture need only represent the lion

features about which it seeks to inform us; and the tragic play need show us only

enough of the invented lives of its characters to arouse the desired emotions»113

.

109 P. WOODRUFF, «Aristotle on Mimesis»…, 91. 110 Cf. Ibid., 92. 111 Cf. Ibid. 112 Cf. Ibid. 113 Ibid., 92-93.

43

VII

THE “POLARITY” OF MIMESIS

I propose that Aristotle‟s writings, as commented upon by Stephen Halliwell

and Paul Woodruff, provide us with an aesthetic philosophy that gives us much

insight into the world of art. Aristotelian theory of mimesis offers us a theory

sufficient for understanding all fine arts.

As has been already mentioned more than once, mimesis is much more than

copying reality. It is the re-presentation of reality in a uniquely significant way. It

is the taking of elements from reality and with them embodying universal truths.

Mimesis includes not only traditional art, but also abstract art. Even in abstract art,

some aspect of reality is being imitated and re-presented to us. In a Pollock

canvas, it could be the random, chaotic, unpredictable world guided by chance. In

Christo‟s 24 1/2-mile Running Fence along the California coastline, it could be

«his perception of monumental but arbitrary or even absurd distinctions»114

.

Combining Halliwell‟s “dual-aspect function” of mimesis and Romano

Guardini‟s “polarity” provides another interesting perspective. The concept of

polarity, introduced and developed by the philosopher Romano Guardini115

, holds

that everything cultural can be understood as situated between two extremes,

always being closer to one extreme than another, although never to the point

where it loses all connection with the opposite extreme.

I think that Halliwell‟s dual-aspect of mimesis can be understood as the two

extremes, or “poles”: representation of reality and artificial creation. The former is

more objective, while the latter is more subjective. One pole is more closely

linked to the external world of actual reality while the other springs from the

114 Cf. G. HAGBERG, «Aristotle‟s “Mimesis” and Abstract Art», Philosophy 59/229

(1984), 371. 115

Cf. R. GUARDINI, L'opposizione polare, Editrice Morcelliana, Brescia, 1997.

44

internal creativity of the artist. One pole is more representational while the other is

more expressive.

The world of art encompasses an incredibly huge spectrum of diverse

realities, ranging from Michelangelo‟s Pietà to Jackson Pollock‟s One: Number

31. The artwork closer to the pole of representation is more like the

Michelangelo‟s, while artwork closer to the pole of expression is more like

Pollock‟s.

One could object that expressive art, especially art like that of Pollock‟s

abstract expressionism, has nothing to do with mimesis. I would argue that it does.

Woodruff defined mimesis as «the art of arranging for one thing to have an effect

that properly belongs to another: M is a mimema of O just in case M has an effect

that is proper to O»116

. Every artist, expressive artists included, is trying to

produce something that has the effects proper to another reality. An abstract

expressionist is providing us with an artifact that allows us to experience some of

the effects of his subjective experience. And I would add that this is the case for

all expressive art. It may not be representing a concrete object, but it is

representing the subjective experience of the artist. It may not be representing

reality as we usually experience it, but it is still representing a certain reality – the

reality of the artist‟s subjective experience.

In other words, all works of fine art are mimemata, things that have an effect

that properly belongs to another. Every mimesis has double status: it is a

representation linked to reality, and it is an artificial creation partially independent

from reality. The more it tends towards the side of representation, the more it will

be like the things that we experience in the world around us. The more that it

tends towards the side of creation, the more independent it will be from external

reality and thus, the more subjective it will be. Every mimesis will either be more

linked to external reality and less subjective, or vice versa. But in all cases, it will

be the production of an effect that properly belongs to another thing. Whether that

thing is an objective external reality or a subjective internal reality is dependent

upon which pole the work of art is closer to.

116 P. WOODRUFF, «Aristotle on Mimesis»…, 91.

45

VIII

ARISTOTLE‟S POETICS AND THE ART OF NICOLAS

POUSSIN

The influence of Aristotle‟s Poetics on artistic theory has been enormous

and it is felt to this day. After a long hiatus, Aristotelian art theory made a

comeback during the Renaissance thanks to the 1498 Latin translation of The

Poetics by Giorgio Valla117

. (The mediaeval Latin translation was long-lost.) His

work was eventually followed by translation and commentary in the vernacular by

authors such as Bernardo Segni (Florence 1549) and Alessandro Piccolomini

(Siena 1572 and Venice 1575)118

. This revival of The Poetics had a deep influence

on the poetry of Torquato Tasso, whose epic Gerusalemme liberata was a

paradigm of Neo-Aristotelian artistic achievement, impacting not only the world

of poetry but that of painting as well. Nicolas Poussin, one of the foremost

Baroque painters, was among the many 17th

-century artists directly influenced by

the poetry and artistic theory of Tasso119

.

In order to better understand Aristotle‟s poetic mimesis, I would like to

explore its influence on and presence in the artistic theory and work of Poussin,

who, through Tasso, was a Baroque descendant of Aristotelian art philosophy. I

will consider Poussin‟s work and thought from three different angles. First, I will

consider two different manifestations of the duality of mimesis present in his work

by looking at (1) its uniquely quasi-philosophical quality and (2) its semi-

117 Cf. A. CONTE, «La rinascita della Poetica nel Cinquecento Italiano», in D. LANZA

(ed.), La poetica di Aristotele e la sua storia, Edizioni ETS, Pisa, 2002, 50. 118 Cf. Ibid., 52. 119 Cf. J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the Poetics of Painting: Pictorial Narrative and the

Legacy of Tasso, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2006, 1.

46

autonomous status. Finally, I will consider how his painting is a (3) pictorial

transliteration of Aristotelian poetic theory.

A. The Quasi-Philosophical Quality of Poussin’s Artwork: Intellectual

Delight

Earlier in this paper, I referred to Stephen Halliwell‟s interpretation of the

“dual-aspect function” of Aristotle‟s mimesis – the ever-present inter-play of the

representation of particular realities and the communication of universal truth.

Placed between these two poles of experiential particulars and intelligible

universals, Poussin always leaned towards the more intellectual aspect of art. He

criticized artists such as Caravaggio for destroying art by making it nothing more

than a mere copying of reality120

. His art and thought are heavily influenced by

Aristotle, but also contain a strong rationalistic strain. For him, every aspect of

painting had to be governed entirely by reason121

.

His production process was an intense intellectual exercise in which every

single element of the painting was thoroughly and methodically considered. It

began with his “election” of a subject matter, a choice that was itself the result of

careful deliberation122

. Following Aristotle‟s definition of poetic mimesis,

Poussin defined painting as «imitation of human action», but particularly, of noble

human action such as battles, heroic actions and divine events123

. It was the task

of the artist to represent the «forms of virtues», which are universal ideas

regarding human activity124

.

After selecting the matter of his painting, Poussin would dedicate long hours

to studying the works of masters on the same subject. He was very meticulous

about the authenticity of every detail, including the background architecture which

he based upon extensive research. For him, the ancients were paragons of rational

artistic activity, so he spared no effort to thoroughly study and understand the

120 Cf. J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the…, 12. 121 Cf. A. BLUNT, Poussin, Pallas Athene, London, 1995, 219. 122

Cf. J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the…, 14. 123

Cf. Ibid., 13, 15. 124

Cf. Ibid., 19.

47

classical architecture and sculpture that was at his disposal in his Roman

environs125

.

Poussin‟s conception of reason was closely bound to mathematics and

geometry, which were essential to his compositional arrangements126

. His

rationalism was also very apparent in his theory of modes, the ratios or measures

that the ancient Greeks used for classifying different types of music. He

considered the principle of modes to be applicable to painting as well127

.

In his paintings, Poussin sought to capture the “Idea” of beauty, which,

although not found in any individual thing, may be approximated through the

combination of various particular examples of beauty, a process similar to that of

Zeuxis who gathered the most beautiful women of Croton to aid him in creating a

depiction of Helen. Poussin recognized that the universal Idea of beauty was

present in various beautiful things. By studying other masters and attempting to

combine their particular representations of beauty in his own, Poussin sought to

get as close as possible to the Idea of beauty itself128

.

Through his art, Poussin sought above all to provide an experience of

intellectual delight. Sensual pleasure was only a part of his work because it was a

necessary means for achieving the more noble delight of the intellect. For Poussin,

intellectual delight comes from the intellectual apprehension of qualities of beauty

present in the work, as well as the wisdom contained therein. He despised the art

of the “Bamboccianti” who aroused pleasure through their artistic representations

of vulgar and ribald subjects129

.

B. The Semi-Autonomous Status of Poussin’s Artwork and its Balance

between Verisimilitude and Marvel

125 Cf. A. BLUNT, Poussin…, 227. 126 Cf. Ibid., 224. 127 Cf. Ibid., 225 – 226. The topic of Modes will be considered in further detail in the

section on the relationship between Poussin‟s art and poetry. 128 Cf. J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the…, 21. 129 Cf. Ibid., 24 - 28.

48

Closely following the poetic theory of Tasso, Poussin considered

verisimilitude (vraisemblance) to be an essential element of artistic imitation. This

verisimilitude consists in a certain amount of fidelity to a historical truth.

According to both Tasso and Poussin, the work of art must always maintain a

resemblance to the material data of which it is a representation. This data should

be actual historical events or at least probable events130

.

However, the artist has the prerogative of imitating things as they are, as

they might possibly be, or as they are reputed to be. This gives him space to

deviate from the historically accurate and introduce “marvel” (meraviglia) to his

art. The verisimilitude of the work must be combined with, yet not overwhelmed

by, the marvelous. Additionally, this combination of the verisimilar and the

marvelous must be plausible in such a way that they are convincing even without

the benefit of sensually pleasing verse (in the case of poetry) or sensually pleasing

color (in the case of painting)131

.

In Poussin‟s artwork, the marvelous is achieved through an «excess of

truth» (l’eccesso della verità), that is, the amplification of the truth present in the

painting. For example, in the Holy Family in Egypt (ca. 1655-7), Poussin presents

Jesus, Mary and Joseph resting after their flight from Palestine. The marvelous is

achieved in the way in which Poussin represents the Egyptian environment that

surrounds the holy immigrants. He amplifies and highlights the true fact that they

are in Egypt by including exquisitely accurate and beautiful Egyptian architecture

and fauna. In the background he even includes a religious procession of the cult of

Sero Apin. This painting does not include fantastically unreal elements, but rather

achieves marvel through l’eccesso della verità132

.

C. Poussin’s Art as Pictorial Poetry

Just as Aristotle defines poetry, Poussin also defines painting as «the

imitation of human action»133

. However, the correspondence between Aristotelian

130 Cf. J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the…, 29 - 30. 131 Cf. Ibid., 31. 132 Cf. Ibid., 35 - 36. 133

Cf. Ibid., 13.

49

poetic theory and Poussin‟s art goes much further than the definition. There are

many elements of Poussin‟s paintings that are direct pictorial translations of

elements found in The Poetics.

Aristotle identifies six elements of tragedy: plot, character, thought, style,

lyric poetry (or music), and spectacle. “Plot” refers to the organization of events,

and “character” (êthos) is «that which allows us to judge the nature of the agents»

who carry out the action imitated by the tragedy. The “thought” (dianoia) is that

which reveals to us the internal deliberation of the characters through their speech.

“Style” refers to “garnishing” of the language, i.e. its versification through the

addition of rhythm and melody. The “lyric poetry” is the vocal and instrumental

music that accompanies the drama. The “spectacle” includes all of the visual

adornments that enhance the tragedy134

. I would like to suggest that there are six

corresponding elements present in Poussin‟s work. I will use Poussin‟s Israelites

Gathering Manna (1639) as a point of reference.

In Manna, as in many of his other paintings, Poussin tells the story of a

historical event in accordance with Aristotle‟s dictates for constructing a poetic

plot135

. In his paintings, he transformed narrative subjects into unified, visual

plots, each having a beginning, middle and an end. His pictorial plots, like those

of a tragedy or epic poetry, pivot around the peripeteia, the dramatic reversal that

leads the misfortune or fortune of the protagonists136

.

In the group that is to the left of Moses and Aaron, we see the Israelites as

they were before the miraculous descent of manna. The group is comprised of

various “episodes” that dramatize their miserable hunger: one collection of figures

pleads with Moses for his intercession, while in another figure-group a young man

tries to help a hunger-weakened elder. In an act of desperate charity, one woman

even denies her child milk in order to provide it to another starving relative. In the

group to the Moses‟ right, we see a different set of episodes that show the happy

results of the miracle. Some Israelites gather the manna and satiate their hunger.

134

Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 38-39. 135 Cf. J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the…, 164. 136 Cf. Ibid., 166.

50

One young man hurries with a container full of food to offer it to famished

friends. A group of grateful men kneel in awe and gratitude before the wonder-

working prophet137

.

The pre-manna group and the post-manna group respectively lead up to

and proceed from the dramatic gesture of Moses. He points towards heaven, thus

exhorting the Hebrews to trust in God. His brother Aaron accentuates Moses‟

intercessory role with his own gesture of prayerful supplication. The Moses-Aaron

duo provides the peripeteia of the painting. It is the turning point of the narrative,

but also the plot‟s source of unity. The various episodes of the painting are united

insofar as they are inherently bound to this peripeteia138

.

Manna is an excellent example of how Poussin “emplots” poetic story. He

captures within synchronic space a diachronic narrative139

. The story can be

“read” from left to right as we visually follow this dramatic event from Exodus

which Poussin successfully reconfigured into an integral, visual poetic plot. He

literally wanted people to “read” this painting, as he explains in a letter about

Manna.

J‟ai trouvé une certaine distribution pour le tableau de M. de Chantelou, et

certaines attitudes naturelles, qui font voir dans le peuple juif la misère et la faim

où il étoit réduit, et aussi la joye et l‟allégresse où il se trouve ; l‟admiration dont il

est touché, le respect et la révérence qu‟il a pour son législateur, avec un mélange

de femmes, d‟enfans et d‟hommes d‟âge et de tempéramens différens ; choses,

comme je crois, qui ne déplairont pas à ceux qui les sauront bien lire.140

“Character” was defined by Aristotle as that which «allows us to judge the

nature of the agents»141

. Halliwell points out in his commentary that when

Aristotle refers to character, he is not speaking about psychological

distinctiveness, which is the most common connotation in today‟s usage of the

word. Instead, he understood it to be the ethical nature of the person, that is, the

137 Cf. J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the…, 181-182. 138 Cf. Ibid., 183. 139 Cf. Ibid., 166. 140 N. POUSSIN, Letter to Jacques Stella ca. 1637, in J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the

Poetics of Painting: Pictorial Narrative and the Legacy of Tasso, Cambridge University

Press, Cambridge, 2006, 172-173 (emphasis added). 141 Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 37.

51

moral status of the individual as determined by the virtues or vices embodied in

his active life142

. In The Poetics Aristotle makes reference to painting when he is

describing character, saying that the painter Polygnotus, unlike Zeuxis, was «a

fine portrayer of character»143

. Tasso, the main link between Aristotle and

Poussin, makes reference to the same passage when he is describing his concept

of costume:

In sum, much as in painting design alone does not suffice if it is not seen together

with appropriate customs, so in the poem, the plot alone is not sufficient without

the expression of this other part. And thus we can compare poems that adhere to

costume to the paintings of Polygnotus, and those deprived of this to the images

painted by Zeuxis144

.

For Tasso, proper characterization is an essential part of poetic art insofar as

it is a part of costume, i.e. the «decorum of time, place, and character»145

.

Likewise, for Poussin, characterization was an important aspect of his work. He

went to great lengths to ensure that all elements of the painting were appropriate

to the subject, including the character. Here are his comments to his colleague

Félibien on the issue of characterization:

But skilled persons must work from their Intellect, that is to say, to conceive

beforehand that which they want to do, to picture in the imagination a courteous,

generous Alexander, etc., and then to express with colors this personage, in such a

manner that one would recognize through the features of the face that this is an

Alexander who has the characteristics that one has given him146

.

In Manna, Poussin bases the characterization of many of the figures on

«icons of pathos» in other masterpieces147

. In particular, his depiction of Moses is

very similar to that of Plato in Raphael‟s Academy148

. Poussin found in this

famous fresco a mode of characterization that was conducive to showing the

142 Cf. S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of Aristotle…, 139-40. 143 Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 38. 144 T. TASSO, Discorsi del poema eroico, Naples, 1594, in J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and

the Poetics of Painting: Pictorial Narrative and the Legacy of Tasso, Cambridge

University Press, Cambridge, 2006, 35. 145 J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the…, 35. 146 FÉLIBIEN, Archives relatives au séjour de Félibien en Italie, in J. UNGLAUB,

Poussin and the Poetics of Painting: Pictorial Narrative and the Legacy of Tasso,

Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2006, 19. 147 Cf. J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the…, 173. 148 Cf. Ibid., 175.

52

character of Moses. In The Academy, Plato is shown in the center with Aristotle,

noble and sage, dramatically pointing upwards towards the heavens, a gesture that

symbolizes his philosophy of the supra-real “Ideas.” In Manna, Moses is similarly

shown as a majestic old man, pointing towards Heaven with an almost identical

gesture. Poussin found in Raphael‟s Plato what he needed to effectively

characterize his own Moses. The subject matter of Manna is different, but

Raphael‟s precedent helps him to depict a Moses with the character of one who is

wise and supremely confident in God‟s miraculous power. In the midst of the

desperation and emotions of the Israelites, this Plato-posture is perfect for

showing a Moses who is calm, in-control, and completely trusting in God - an

ideal spiritual leader.

Aristotle defines “thought” (dianoia) as that which «represents the parts in

which by their speech they [the characters of a tragedy] put forward arguments or

make statements»149

. With gesture, Poussin visually translates thought onto the

canvas. The dramatic, almost over-dramatic, gesticulation of his figures is one of

the more prevalent aspects of his style. There is often little doubt regarding the

feelings of his characters.

In the pictorial drama of Manna, every character has a role to play through

his body language. On the left side of the painting, in the still-desperate group of

Hebrews, their facial expressions or hand movements say it all: the pained looks

on the faces of the child and mother, the shocked reaction of the man who

witnesses the mother‟s unseemly act of charity, the listlessness of the starving

man who is behind the child, the outstretched arms of the elderly man with his

back to us, and the pleading arms of the men in the background. In the right-hand

side, we see the hungry Israelites collecting the manna. We can see the urgency of

their task in the way they are bent over grabbing fistfuls of manna and consuming

it on the spot. Two boys scuffle for the food, while another man folds his hands

and prays in gratitude. A woman directs the young man with the container full of

manna towards the elderly man with his arms outstretched. A group in front of

149 ARISTOTLE, The Poetics…, 37.

53

Moses and Aaron kneel and bow in awe and reverence. Moses points towards

God, the source of the miracle that was brought about through his intercession.

Aristotle‟s “diction” (lexis) refers to the style and verse of the language used

in the poem150

. Poussin, like many of his contemporaries, equated color with

verse: «li colori nella pittura sono quasi lusinghe per persuadere gli occhi, come la

venustà de‟versi nella poesia»151

. He agreed with Tasso that the sensuousness of

color, like that of verse, must not overwhelm the verisimilitude of the story. The

analogy between verse and color had been proposed by Paolo Beni, a proponent

of Tasso‟s poetic theory.

Beni likens verisimilitude to sober, natural hues in painting that are pleasing to the

eyes and encourage the viewer‟s fidelity in the representation. The heroic exploits

proper to epic, “expounded with graceful and enchanting style”, fill the reader with

marvel much as the richest purple or the rarest luminosity in painting beguiles the

eyes. The poet has thereby adorned the work with “the most beautiful and graceful

colors”152

.

Just as verse ornaments poetry and makes it delightful to read, so color

enhances the pleasure that is taken in viewing pictorial representations.

The element of “lyric poetry,” or “music,” at first glance may appear to be

incompatible with painting, considering the complete absence of sound. However,

there is indeed a corresponding pictorial element in the art of Poussin. As

Anthony Blunt points out, Poussin applied the principles of ancient Greek musical

modes to his own artwork153

. In one of his letter to Chantelou, Poussin describes

modes as follows.

Cette parolle Mode signifie proprement la raison ou la mesure et forme de laquelle

nous nous seruons à faire quelque chose. laquelle nous abstraint à ne passer pas

oultre nous fesant opérer en touttes les choses auec une certaine médiocrité et

modération, et partant telle médiocrité et modération n‟est autre que une certaine

150 Cf. ARISTOTLE, The Poetics …, 53 – 58. 151 G. P. BELLORI, Le Vite de’pittori, scultori, et architetti moderni (Rome, 1672), in

Ed. Evelina Borea, Turin, 1976, 481, in J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the Poetics of

Painting: Pictorial Narrative and the Legacy of Tasso, Cambridge University Press,

Cambridge, 2006, 31. 152 J. UNGLAUB, Poussin and the…, 31. 153 Cf. A. BLUNT, Poussin…, 226.

54

manière ou ordre déterminé, et ferme dedens le procéder par lequel la chose se

conserue en son estre154

.

Poussin then points out that the Greeks used the different modes in their

music, each mode producing a particular mood. The mood of the Dorian mode

was grave, the Phrygian was joyful and the Lydian was melancholic. He goes on

to make an implicit connection between the modes in poetry and in his painting as

he justifies to Chantelou the manner in which he painted the Ordination155

:

Les bon Poetes ont usé d‟une grande dilligense et d‟un merueillieux artifice pour

accommoder aux vers les paroles et disposer les pieds selon la conuenanse du

parler. Comme Virgile a obserué par tout son poeme, parceque à touttes ses

trois sortes de parler, il acommode le propre son du vers auec tel artifice que

proprement il semble qu‟il mette deuant les yeus auec le son des paroles les

choses desquelles il traicte. de sorte que où il parle d‟amour l‟on voit qu‟il a

artificieusement choisi aucunes parolles douces plaisantes et grandement

gratieuses à ouir, de là où il a chanté un fet d‟Arme ou descrit une bataille

nauale ou une fortune de mer il a choisi des parolles dures aspres et

déplaisentes de manière que en les oyant ou prononsant ils donnent de

l‟epouuentement. de sorte que si je vous auois fet un tableau ou une telle

manière fust obseruée vous vous imaginerés que je ne vous aimerois pas156

.

Just as mode is used to set the mood in music and poetry, so it may be used

to do the same in painting. Poussin maintains that the mood or emotion can be

conveyed through the style of the painting157

. Anthony Blunt gives us some

examples of how Poussin conveys mood:

In examining the paintings of his later period, we see how carefully Poussin adapts

to his theme not only the gestures and poses of the people taking part, but also the

general disposition of the scene. The jagged movements of the figures in the two

versions of Moses Trampling on Pharaoh’s Crown […] convey the right sense of

alarm, while motionless calm and emphatic horizontals and verticals give grandeur

to the Holy Family on the Steps. Color also plays an important part, and the Dublin

Lamentation […] owes much of its drama to its almost strident harmonies, whereas

the tones of the Louvre Rebecca […] are all sweetness158

.

154 N. POUSSIN, Poussin à Chantelou, in C. JOUANNY (ed.) Archives de l’art français,

N.S. 5, Paris, 1911, 370 – 75, in A. BLUNT, Poussin, Pallas Athene, London, 1995, 369. 155 Cf. A. BLUNT, Poussin…, 226. 156 N. POUSSIN, Poussin à Chantelou, in C. JOUANNY (ed.) Archives de l’art français,

N.S. 5, Paris, 1911, 370 – 75, in A. BLUNT, Poussin, Pallas Athene, London, 1995, 370. 157 Cf. A. BLUNT, Poussin…, 226. 158 Ibid., 227.

55

Mode for Poussin is a ratio that regulates the production of a work of art. A

result of each mode is a certain mood or emotion. We gather from Blunt‟s

comments above that Poussin‟s mode consisted in the proper ratio of gesture,

composition, and colors. We thus find in his mode a pictorial equivalent of music

in Greek tragedy and comedy. Music was used to set the tone and emotion that

was proper to the subject matter being represented. Likewise, Poussin used a

certain mode, i.e. a certain ratio governing various elements of the painting, to set

the mood that was appropriate for the subject matter being presented in the

painting.

The final element to be considered is that of “spectacle.” Spectacle in

tragedy is the visual adornments that enhance the dramatic experience. Stage

props and costumes fall into this category. In painting, spectacle refers particularly

to the background. In the Manna, the background is a mountainous landscape and

the camp of the Israelites. The spectacle sets the stage, so to speak, for the action

that is depicted in the painting. In other paintings of Poussin, the background

consists in classical architecture (e.g. the two versions of The Rape of the Sabines)

or in the interior of a room (e.g. the two versions of Anointing of the Sick).

The art of Poussin is a visual application of Aristotelian artistic theory. In

Poussin‟s paintings, we see the six elements present in Aristotle‟s description of

tragedy. We see the same awareness of the quasi-philosophical status of art and

how it communicates universal, intelligible truths by means of particular

representations. We also see in Poussin‟s work the balance between the actually

true and the marvelous, to which Aristotle refers in The Poetics. Poussin‟s

rationalistic emphasis on the intellectual meaning of his paintings, a result of his

17th

-century milieu, naturally fit with Aristotle‟s philosophical understanding of

poetry and other forms of mimetic art.

56

CONCLUSION

We have considered the theory of Aristotelian mimesis, and we have seen a

particular application of it in the artistic style of Nicolas Poussin. Mimesis is a

uniquely human reality, straddling the subjectivity of man‟s creative intellect and

the objectivity of the external world. This duality of mimesis permeates all of its

different aspects.

Mimesis is a complex and beautiful part of human nature, one that goes well

beyond poetry and painting. Everyone, to one degree or another, engages in

mimetic activity. Every time we tell stories, we are producing a certain type of

mimesis, communicating universal knowledge through the recounting of

particular events. Mimesis is probably one of the most common ways in which we

teach and learn. It is the way in which we make sense of the world around us

transmit the significance that we encounter.

Mimesis is part of man‟s cultural nature. It is one of the ways in which he

freely acts upon the world around him. Like all uniquely human realities, it is

involved in the dynamic relationship between human freedom and human nature.

We are free to re-arrange the particulars of the external world in any way we wish.

However, our mimetic re-arrangement will only have value to the degree in which

it corresponds to the truth of human nature.

When man makes mimesis, he creates. He imbues his surrounding world

with his own meaning. He uses his freedom to make his mark and to produce

something that exists only because he exists. There will always be rain, and plants

and animals, but there will never be another work created by Michangelo. His

masterpieces are unique realities, exclusively linked to his own irrepeatable

existence on earth.

Thus, mimesis is more than a mode of acquiring and communicating

universal knowledge. It is also a way of knowing how this particular artist sees or

saw the world. It is an insight into the utterly unique mind of an individual human

57

being. It is an extension of his being, one that will long outlast his earthly

existence. The Michelangelo‟s Sistine Chapel frescos, Da Vinci‟s Mona Lisa,

Handel‟s Messiah, and Shakespeare‟s Hamlet are just a few of numerous

masterpieces that continue to leave us awe-struck long after the deaths of their

creators. When we marvel at a mimetic work of art, we marvel at the intelligence

and ingenuity that is behind it, and we marvel at human genius in general.

If the human mind is capable of coming up with such beautiful creations, we

cannot help but wonder what mind was capable of coming up with man.

58

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ARISTOTLE, Analytica Posteriora; English translation, The Basic Works of

Aristotle, Random House, New York, 1941.

----------------, De anima; English translation, De anima (On the Soul), Penguins

Books, London, 1986.

----------------, De interpretatione, English translation, The Basic Works of Aristotle,

Random House, New York, 1941.

----------------, Metaphysica, English translation, The Basic Works of Aristotle,

Random House, New York, 1941.

----------------, Ethica Nicomachea, English translation, The Basic Works of Aristotle,

Random House, New York, 1941.

----------------, Physica, English translation, The Basic Works of Aristotle, Random

House, New York, 1941.

----------------, Politica, English translation, The Basic Works of Aristotle, Random

House, New York, 1941.

----------------, Rhetorica, English translation, The Basic Works of Aristotle, Random

House, New York, 1941.

----------------, Poetica; English translation, in S. HALLIWELL, The Poetics of

Aristotle: Translation and Commentary, Gerald Duckworth and Co. Ltd.,

London, 1987.

BLUNT, A., Poussin, Pallas Athene, London, 1995.

CARLI, S., «Poetry Is More Philosophical Than History: Aristotle on Mimêsis and

Form», The Review of Metaphysics 64/2 (2010), 303–336.

CONTE, A., La rinascita della Poetica nel Cinquecento Italiano, in D. LANZA,

(ed.), La poetica di Aristotele e la sua storia, Edizioni ETS, Pisa, 2002, 45

- 58.

DE ANGELI, S. «Mimese e techne», Quaderni Urbinati di Cultura Classica, New

Series, Vol. 28, No. 1 (1988), 27-45.

HAGBERG, G., «Aristotle‟s „Mimesis‟ and Abstract Art», Philosophy 59/229

(1984), 365–371.

HALLIWELL, S., The Poetics of Aristotle: Translation and Commentary, Gerald

Duckworth and Co. Ltd., London, 1987.

----------------, The Aesthetics of Mimesis: Ancient Texts and Modern Problems,

Princeton University Press, Princeton, 2002.

GUARDINI, R., L’opposizione polare, Editrice Morcelliana, Brescia, 1997.

PICHLER, A., «Universals», in C. HERBERMANN – E. PACE – C. PALLEN – T.

SHAHAN – J. WYNNE (edd.), The Catholic Encyclopedia, XV, The Universal

Knowledge Foundation, Inc., 1913, 182 - 183. POUSSIN, N., Poussin à Chantelou, in C. JOUANNY (ed.) Archives de

l’art français, N.S. 5, Paris, 1911, in A. BLUNT, Poussin, Pallas Athene,

London, 1995, 367 - 372.

PRIETO, L., El hombre y el animal, Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, Madrid,

2008.

TATARKIEWICZ, W., History of Aesthetics. I. Ancient Aesthetics. II. Medieval

59

Aesthetics. III. Modern Aesthetics, Thoemmes Press, Bristol, 19992;

English translation of Historia Estetyki, Ossolineum, Warsaw, 1962.

UNGLAUB, J., Poussin and the Poetics of Painting: Pictorial Narrative and the

Legacy of Tasso, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2006.

WOODRUFF, P., «Aristotle on Mimesis», in A. OKSENBERG RORTY, (ed.), Essays

on Aristotle’s Poetics, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1992, 73 -

95.