The Essence of Tragedy

What is the essence of tragedy?  How is it a phenomenon of life, a genre of art?  In what actions, characters, and thoughts is it most clearly represented?  Join our Philosophical Happy Hour as we take up a central question of artistic signification.

“That dinner party was a complete tragedy.”  “Her outfit is, like, totally tragic.”  “OH-EM-GEE my life is such a Greek tragedy right now.”  These usages are themselves a tragedy in the intended sense of their own usages: something that is “just like, totally” awful—a real “goat song”, if you will.

OK—maybe these are not the best usages of the word “tragic”.  It seems today, like so many, a word degraded by consistent hyperbole.  When the slightest inconveniences, foibles, or errors are termed “tragic”, we not only lose a word to signify the original object, we become less capable of recognizing it.

To restore our awareness of tragedy, we must distinguish it with some precision.  Let us then ask a few relevant questions.

Tragedy in Life

It is possible that most of us, by the time of early adulthood—or at least midlife—are personally acquainted with some one or another event which we regard as tragic: a death too young, a great talent wasted, the sudden loss of much life, or a family torn apart.  What distinguishes these events from those which are merely sad?  What makes such an event tragic? 

It is also worth asking the effects of observing tragedy.  Nietzsche once observed that a tragic view and insight into life rendered by art and philosophy may help to heal and to grow those who suffer an overflowing vitality.  But does tragedy do to those suffering a “reduced vitality”? 

Tragedy in Art

Speaking of art, it is here that we find “tragedy” initially defined.  The term was first applied in contradistinction to “comedy”, as naming two opposed genres of poetry.  “Comedy” in this sense is not the humorous (though it may be), but a story that ends in some festivity or joy, a celebration.  We might say a tragedy ends tragically, though that does not help us greatly.  Let us instead turn to Aristotle, who defines it in his Poetics as

…an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in several parts of the play; in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation (katharsis) of these emotions.

What do we make of this definition?  Why action, and not narrative?  Why “pity and fear”, and what is the “proper purgation”?

It is also worth here considering the words of Dante Alighieri, who in his letter to Can Grande della Scala, concerning his Divine Comedy, writes:

Comedy… differs from tragedy in its matter, in that tragedy is tranquil and conducive to wonder at the beginning, but foul and conducive to horror at the end, or catastrophe, for which reason it is derived from tragos, meaning “goat,” and oda, making it, as it were, a “goat song,” that is, foul as a goat is foul.  This is evident in Seneca’s tragedies.  Comedy, on the other hand, introduces a situation of adversity, but ends its matter in prosperity, as is evident in Terence’s comedies.  And for this reason some writers have the custom of saying in their salutations, by way of greeting, “a tragic beginning and a comic ending to you.”  And, as well, they differ in their manner of speaking.  Tragedy uses an elevated and sublime style, while comedy uses an unstudied and low style…

Are goats truly that foul?  It is worth noting that the etymology Dante presents of comedy is now regarded uncertain; komos perhaps meaning something of the festival, and perhaps associated over time with village life.  But tragos does indeed come from the word for “goat”; and yet, it seems perhaps to have something to do with gnawing.

Let us reflect upon that, as well.

Genres, Representations, and the Ends of Human Life

As a final note, I once wrote an undergraduate paper—what became of it, I do not know—arguing that the genre of tragedy is incompatible with a Christian character.  The central reason of this argument is simple: the final prosperity of a faithful Christian is guaranteed, not by his own acts, but by the grace of God.  That being the case, any truly Christian character cannot suffer the fate that seems to identify a story as tragic.

Yet certainly, I hold now more strongly than I did then, the Christian may yet suffer tragedy in this life.

With the hopes of some comedic endings to our conversation, I hope you’ll join us this Wednesday (19 August 2026, from 5:45-7:15+ pm ET) as we take up the topic of tragedy in both life and art.  (Time permitting, you may wish to read c.6 of Aristotle’s Poetics, included below.)  Let us take up these and alike questions:

• What distinguishes the tragic from the merely sad or unfortunate, the horrifying, or the unjust?
• Can a purely accidental catastrophe be tragic, or does tragedy require some intelligible connection between action, character, thinking, and consequence?
• Why does Aristotle define tragedy primarily as an imitation of an action, and why are pity and fear its characteristic effects?
• What is katharsis supposed to accomplish: some transformation of the emotions or an education of the audience?
• Does a tragedy necessarily have to end badly, or can the tragic remain present within a story whose ultimate ending is good?
• Relatedly, is there such a thing as a genuinely Christian tragedy, or does Christian hope ultimately transform tragedy into something else?

Aristotle, Poetics, VI

Translation S.H. Butcher

Of the poetry which imitates in hexameter verse, and of Comedy, we will speak hereafter. Let us now discuss Tragedy, resuming its formal definition, as resulting from what has been already said.

Tragedy, then, is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separate parts of the play; in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions. By ‘language embellished,’ I mean language into which rhythm, ‘harmony,’ and song enter. By ‘the several kinds in separate parts,’ I mean, that some parts are rendered through the medium of verse alone, others again with the aid of song.

Now as tragic imitation implies persons acting, it necessarily follows, in the first place, that Spectacular equipment will be a part of Tragedy. Next, Song and Diction, for these are the medium of imitation. By ‘Diction’ I mean the mere metrical arrangement of the words: as for ‘Song,’ it is a term whose sense every one understands.

Again, Tragedy is the imitation of an action; and an action implies personal agents, who necessarily possess certain distinctive qualities both of character and thought; for it is by these that we qualify actions themselves, and these—thought and character—are the two natural causes from which actions spring, and on actions again all success or failure depends. Hence, the Plot is the imitation of the action: for by plot I here mean the arrangement of the incidents. By Character I mean that in virtue of which we ascribe certain qualities to the agents. Thought is required wherever a statement is proved, or, it may be, a general truth enunciated. Every Tragedy, therefore, must have six parts, which parts determine its quality—namely, Plot, Character, Diction, Thought, Spectacle, Song. Two of the parts constitute the medium of imitation, one the manner, and three the objects of imitation. And these complete the list. These elements have been employed, we may say, by the poets to a man; in fact, every play contains Spectacular elements as well as Character, Plot, Diction, Song, and Thought.

But most important of all is the structure of the incidents. For Tragedy is an imitation, not of men, but of an action and of life, and life consists in action, and its end is a mode of action, not a quality. Now character determines men’s qualities, but it is by their actions that they are happy or the reverse. Dramatic action, therefore, is not with a view to the representation of character: character comes in as subsidiary to the actions. Hence the incidents and the plot are the end of a tragedy; and the end is the chief thing of all. Again, without action there cannot be a tragedy; there may be without character. The tragedies of most of our modern poets fail in the rendering of character; and of poets in general this is often true. It is the same in painting; and here lies the difference between Zeuxis and Polygnotus. Polygnotus delineates character well: the style of Zeuxis is devoid of ethical quality. Again, if you string together a set of speeches expressive of character, and well finished in point of diction and thought, you will not produce the essential tragic effect nearly so well as with a play which, however deficient in these respects, yet has a plot and artistically constructed incidents. Besides which, the most powerful elements of emotional: interest in Tragedy Peripeteia or Reversal of the Situation, and Recognition scenes—are parts of the plot. A further proof is, that novices in the art attain to finish: of diction and precision of portraiture before they can construct the plot. It is the same with almost all the early poets.

The Plot, then, is the first principle, and, as it were, the soul of a tragedy: Character holds the second place. A similar fact is seen in painting. The most beautiful colours, laid on confusedly, will not give as much pleasure as the chalk outline of a portrait. Thus Tragedy is the imitation of an action, and of the agents mainly with a view to the action.

Third in order is Thought,—that is, the faculty of saying what is possible and pertinent in given circumstances. In the case of oratory, this is the function of the Political art and of the art of rhetoric: and so indeed the older poets make their characters speak the language of civic life; the poets of our time, the language of the rhetoricians. Character is that which reveals moral purpose, showing what kind of things a man chooses or avoids. Speeches, therefore, which do not make this manifest, or in which the speaker does not choose or avoid anything whatever, are not expressive of character. Thought, on the other hand, is found where something is proved to be, or not to be, or a general maxim is enunciated.

Fourth among the elements enumerated comes Diction; by which I mean, as has been already said, the expression of the meaning in words; and its essence is the same both in verse and prose.

Of the remaining elements Song holds the chief place among the embellishments.

The Spectacle has, indeed, an emotional attraction of its own, but, of all the parts, it is the least artistic, and connected least with the art of poetry. For the power of Tragedy, we may be sure, is felt even apart from representation and actors. Besides, the production of spectacular effects depends more on the art of the stage machinist than on that of the poet.