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W7 2",2
THE
FUNCTION OF SUSPENSE
IN THE
CATHARSIS
W. D. MORIARTY, A. M., PH. D.
INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
GEORGE WAHR, PUBLISHER
ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN
1 91 1
COPYRIGHT, 191 1
BY W. D. MORIARTY
PREFACE.
In a more formal or more extended treatment of the
function of suspense in the catharsis, one might reas-
onably expect that the critical history of the latter term
should receive some preliminary consideration. So
closely has it been associated with the name of Aristotle
that almost the whole critical literature that has arisen
around it has been largely devoted to proving what
Aristotle understood the process to be to which he
gave the name catharsis.
Two reasons lead me to believe, however, that the
function of suspense in the catharsis can be made to
stand out more clearly by refraining from any such
preliminary discussion. The ﬁrst of these is very evi-
dent. Not only are comparatively few of those inter-
ested in the drama desirous of tracing such critical
disputations but to adopt one explicit theory as to what
Aristotle regarded as the catharsis or explicitly to re-
ject any or all would needlessly antagonize partisans
of all but the accepted interpretation. -
The other reason for omitting such a discussion will
become apparentto the reader, for the point of depar-
ture is not the catharsis itself but the characteristics of
suspense; and the sequence of argument is, ﬁrst, the
function of suspense in general, then the function of
suspense in the drama, and ﬁnally the function of sus-
pense in the catharsis. Because of this method and
order of treatment the meaning given to the term
catharsis arises from the investigation of the function
of suspense in the tragic drama, and any attempt to
Zgﬁﬂﬁﬁ
___3__
base the discussion on Aristotle or his interpreters
would not only be confusing but could have no logical
validity.
Moreover, whether or not the view of the catharsis
ﬁnally advanced meets with any wide acceptance, the
justiﬁcation of this study of the function of suspense
in the catharsis may well come from its calling atten—
tion to a much neglected ﬁeld of critical inquiry and
to the vantage point afforded by the study of suspense
for attacking critical problems which might otherwise
have to be treated either in a narrowly dogmatic or in
a loosely generalizing fashion.
It might also seem that before we could discuss the
function of suspense in the catharsis it would be neces-
sary to establish rather deﬁnitely at the beginning of
the discussion just what suspense is, even if we did not
explicitly deﬁne the process to which we give the name
catharsis. If this were true, however, there would be
small hope of our satisfying such a requirement, for
psychologists are as unable to agree upon just what
suspense is as critics are as to what constitutes the
catharsis.
Fortunately no such explicit-deﬁnition of either term
is necessary. Indeed so far as the catharsis is con-
cerned we shall be able to consider in much more open—
ness of mind just what this process is in which sus-
pense is a functioning element if we do not commit
ourselves as to what the catharsis is before we trace
out the actual function of suspense in the tragic drama,
As regards suspense, it is true, it will be necessary to
take up a preliminary inquiry of some length, but not
in an attempt to establish just what suspense is. In
fact the only necessary preliminary for our critical
consideration of this problem is to make evident those
characteristics of suspense which persons interested in
._4__
such problems will be willing to accept as essentially
true. -
This method will not only arouse less opposition but
will be more easily understood than any attempt to
deﬁne suspense or even to force upon the reader cer—
tain characteristics by appeal to either authority or
argument in psychology or biology. For on the one
hand if anyone sees an essential of suspense that has
been omitted, he is at liberty to follow out what its
effects would be; and on the other hand if there hap-
pens to be something presented as a characteristic of
suspense to which a recalcitrant reader objects, he may
enclude it from his consideration without necessarily
rejecting the main thesis advanced.
The general thesis was originally submitted as part
of the requirements for the degree of doctor of phil-
osophy at the University of Michigan. In restating the
problem for a more general reading, however, the
whole historical statement has been omitted and the
reason for the method of approach has been conﬁned
to the preface. , Other parts of the original thesis have
been omitted when they were designed primarily for
formal proof rather than convincing exposition; and
on the other hand when it could be done Without
digressing from the main theme an effort has been
made to show the function of suspense in the drama as
a whole and the advantage which the study of suspense
offers as a starting point for criticism of the dynamic
arts which lay stress on plot.
Ann Arbor, March I, 1911.
CONTENTS.
PART I. SUSPENSE As A UNIFYING POWER.
PAGE
Characteristics of Suspense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 9
The Possibility of a Psychocrasis . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 13
PART II. SUSPENSE IN THE DRAMA.
The Psychocrasis achieved by the Drama . . . . . . . . 19
A Catharsis necessary to the higher Psychocrasis. . 24
The Function of the Entanglement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
The Function of the Disentanglement . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
The Function of the Denouement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
The Catharsis systemic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 36
A Restatement of the Function of Suspense . . . . . . 39
PART III. THE NATURE AND SCOPE OF THE
CATHARSIS.
Surface Theories of the Catharsis . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 43
The deeper Basis of the Catharsis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
The Reason for different Theories of the Catharsis 49
The true Scope of the Catharsis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
The Function of Suspense in the Catharsis . . . . . . . 60
__.7__.
PART I.
SUSPENSE AS A UNIFYING POWER.
The characteristics of suspense which will prob-
ably gain readiest acceptance are those which we
see in animals and which most of us can probably recol-
lect as having experienced ourselves. For instance, as
one dog, bent on hostilities but not making an imme-
diate attack, approaches another there are certain char-
acteristics of suspense which will be evident to most
observers. Each dog seems to be gathering his powers
for the conflict; and if the attack though imminent is
somewhat delayed the uncertainty of the exact instant
and method of attack will produce certain fairly evi—
dent results. There is an alertness and physical ten-
sion that are quite apparent to anyone, and as the im-
minence of the battle increases this alertness and physi—
cal tension are increased. r
Most anyone, surely, will grant that these are char-
acteristics of suspense. Nor is it much less probable
that all that each dog has of intelligence as well as
physical strength is united to make his attack or de—
fense the most effective possible.
Another characteristic not quite so evident to- the
casual observer is the gathering of the animal’s powers,
the accumulation of a sort of reserve energy for instant
expenditure. When surprised .by almost instantly
threatened attack a dog may have marked physical
tenseness but he does not give the impression of having
_..9_.
surplus energy demanding instant expenditure which
as the suspense increases makes the spectator who
dares be interested in such things say, “Watch ’em.
They can’t keep apart another second.”
Those who have not noticed this characteristic of
suspense in animals may'have experienced it themselves.
The athlete who has heard, “On your marks,” “Set,”
feels the energy gathered under the suspense of the all
important start demanding an outlet, and if the pistol
shot be too long delayed it becomes an effort to re—
strain himself.
In like fashion anyone who has waited for the op-
portunity to speak may have experienced this accumu-
lation of energy. His chance seems to be approaching,
for the person who has the ﬂoor is almost through. In
fancy the would-be speaker sees himself rising and
addressing the chair, and rising quickly, too, lest some
one else secure recognition. In fancy he sees just how i
he will begin. The person who has the ﬂoor has said
“lastly” and “ﬁnally” anc “in conclusion” and “just
one word more,” and at each phrase that has promised
'an end the would-be speaker has felt an increased ful-
ness of speech demanding utterance. He feels he simp-
ly must talk, and talk soon.
To many, however, this accumulation of energy
through suspense is more apparent when the cause of
suspense is removed. They see it in the exultant rush
of the sprinter who has learned to use skilfully the sus-
pense of the start and feels in the ﬁrst few yards that
he has more energy than he can use. In the early
moments of the speech of one who has waited in sus-
pense for his opportunity they see it in his tendency to
let his speech run away with him. And, returning to
the physical side, no one who has stood in the close
packed scrimmage line waiting for the slightly delayed
snapping back of the ball is likely to forget the electric
like shock with which the line sprang into action,
There is a ﬁfth characteristic way in, which suspense
manifests itself. For lack of a better term we may call
it alternation. Thus when one dog awaits the attack
of another it is the feeling that the attack is to be made
this way or that, now or not just now, and the conse-
quent uncertainty, that heightens the suspense by mak—
ing him feel that now one, now another is the correct
solution. As the crouching sprinter hears “On your
marks,” “ ’Set,” there is a double alternation that keys
him up to the highest point of efﬁciency. On the one
hand the alternation is between his feeling that the shot
he is waiting for must be sounding even now and his
feeling that he must wait till he actually hears it. On
the other hand there is the alternation in imagination
between the activity of the race, which he is in fancy
already running, and the enforced waiting of the start.
These characteristics of suspense will be seen also
as we trace the development and function of suspense
in the drama, but the average reader will be much more
inclined to give them full credence if he has ﬁrst seen
that they are not conﬁned to the suspense of art but
are fundamentally the same in the suspense of every-
day life. For instance, he can readily see how in a
tragedy all of these characteristics seem to unite. in
producing a uniﬁcation of the spectator’s powers for
the solution of the tragic problem. His conﬁdence in
this uniﬁcation as a fundamental characteristic of sus-
pense will, however, be greatly increased if he has had
his attention called to the very evident fact that even
in the lower animal suspense uniﬁes all its powers to
meet a given situation in the most effective way pos-
sible.
That this is true also of man in general as well as
the lower animals can be readily seen in the savage.
In the “Last of the lVIohicansH1 Coo-per describes for .
us the effect of suspense on the savage, an effect that
most people will feel instinctively is true to life.
“The head of Chingachg-ook was resting on a hand
as he sat musting by himself.” At this point Hawkeye
gives the signal of warning, and though the Indian
made no change in his general posture the effect of the
suspense of the situation is described as follows:
“While to a less instructed eye the Mohican chief ap-
peared to slumber, his nostrils were expanded, his head ,
was turned a little to one side as if to assist the'organs
of hearing, and his quick and rapid glances ran inces-
santly over every object within the power of his
vision.” ‘ '
The same book2 contains an excellent illustration of
how the suspense of hope as well as the suspense of
fear uniﬁes all the powers a man possesses: Believing
that Hawkeye, who was disguised as a bear, was the
conjurer of his enemies, “Uncas had cast his body back
against the wall as if willing to exclude such contemp-
tible and disagreeable objects from his sight. But the
‘moment the hiss of the serpent3 was heard, he arOse
and cast his looks on each side of him, bending his head
low and turning it enquiringly in every direction until
his keen eye rested on the shaggy monster, where it
remained riveted as though ﬁxed by the powers of a
charm.”
In both there cases we see pretty clearly the outward
signs of three of these characteristics of suspense which
we have mentioned, physical tension, alertness, and the
1 Chapter XIX.“
2 Chapter XXIV.
3The ‘hi'ss of a serpent was a signal frequently used by
Uncas, Chingachg'ook and Hawkeye.
uniﬁcation of all the man’s powers in the presence 'of
his problem. These, in fact, seem to be the character-
istics which are evident to the ordinary observer of the
physical appearance produced by suspense either in
man or in one of the lower animals.
In neither of the cases taken from Cooper, it is true,
do we ﬁnd the suspense ended in such a way as to show
unmistakably the accumulation of energy, though the
abruptness of Uncas, as soon as released, in choosing
to run for it without thinking that such a course would
sacriﬁce Hawkeye may be so interpreted. The alterna-
tion is very evident upon a closer reading, however,
especially in the ﬁrst illustration. “His quick and
rapid glances ran incessantly over every object in the
power of his vision,” signiﬁes more than mere alert—
ness. Every object in his range of vision, indistinct in
the darkness, is the object of possible danger; and far
fro-m being merely alert to receive impressions, the
chief throws all his powers into sweeping over each
object again and again as if, in spite of his inability
to see danger in it before, it still might hide or even be
the enemy.
These, then, are ﬁve fundamental characteristics of
suspense which I believe that almost everyone inter-
ested in dramatic criticism will be willing to accept:
physical tension, alertness, alternation, the accumula-
tion of reserve energy, and, in proportion as the sus-
pense is effective, the uniﬁcation of all the powers of
the organism. Moreover, these constitute a sufﬁcient
basis for investigating the function of suspense in the
catharsis of the tragic drama.
It will, however, be somewhat easier for the reader
not only to understand but to give full credit to the
function of suspense in the drama as well as in the
catharsis if he understands more fully the biological
.——13—
reasons which make it possible for suspense in the
tragic drama to achieve the uniﬁcation of all the powers
of the spectator. In other words he can more readin
understand how this characteristic fulﬁlls its function
if he can see how it is biologically possible for 'the intel-
lect, the emotions, and the will to be brought into a
vital as well as an effective uniﬁcation.
It is true that everyone will readily concede that in
tragedy the appeal is to the sensuous emotions. They
will agree also that the spectator is in an essentially
emotional state of mind. But if we are to ﬁnd in the
effects of the tragic drama any validity derived from
the intellectual or volitional elements we must see how
these elements become a vital part of the uniﬁcation in-
stead of merely letting their functions lapse so as to-
give the emotional element in the spectator-full sway.
For in spite of all that recent psychology has done to
break down the-old clear cut division of our faculties
into emotions, intellect, and will, there is still a feeling
among many that these elements are so essentially
d-istinCt in their nature that not even any phase of one
of them could be transformed into the aspect .of an-
other.
Everyone who believes in evolution in any tho-rough-
going fashion, however, will ﬁnd there a rational basis
for the possibility of such a uniﬁcation becoming vital.
Many people, it is true, believe in evolution only in a
general way or restrict their practical application of the
term to the proof by comparative anatomy that all
highly evolved species of the present day had a similar
origin. When the thoroughgoing evolutionist ap-
proaches any problem dealing with beginnings, how-
ever, he will not insist that he be granted a primal or-
ganism to start with in which intellect or emotions or
will is already existent.
As we need-consider evolution here only so far as it
throws light upon one phase of our special problem we
are not of course concerned as to where the primal or-
ganism comes from. All we need to do is to insist that
the theory of evolution which is put forward to satisfy
us should not have as a starting point an organism with
emotions or intellect or will already evolved or granted
to start with. We must be thoroughgoing enough in
our conception of evolution to begin at the point where
the primal organism had not only no emotions or intel-
lect or will but nothing in its nature which made it re-
spond in any particular way to its environment. We
can not, therefore, like Schopenhauer insist on the will
as already established, or with Lamarck assume the
intellect as preexistent to account for instinct.
As soon as we commit ourselves to an evolution as
thoroughgo-ing as this, then some such explanation as '
the following is necessary before we can see- how evo-
ultion took place. Granted primal organisms which
had nothing in their nature which made them respond
in any particular way to their environment, it must
follow that those organisms perished which just did
not happen to act in a way that made for survival and
that those organisms survived which did just happen
to act in a way that made for survival. As a result
there developed in the course of time through the laws
of heredity a tendency to act in certain ways under cer-
tain conditions. This was more like reflex than any-
thing else we can readily conceive of as existing in
such an organism, tho-ugh ofcourse there was nothing
corresponding to the nerve center which we ordinarily
think of as necessary to a reﬂex. In the earlier stages
of this evolution, purely because of inherited tenden-
cies, when the organism protoplasm came in contact
_15.__
with anything it “shrank” from what was harmful and
“reached out” for its food.
In course of time such reﬂexes uniﬁed the organism
in a more vital fashion, and it began as a whole to
assume an attitude towards whatever came into its
environment. In case of danger, what corresponded to
fear arose an attitude of the organism as a whole.
So also in case the new object promised possibility of
food where was a corresponding reaction throughout
the organism. Very evidently, then, though there was
no explicit central selfconsciousness to recognize them
as such, even at this early stage in the evolutionary
process the most fundamental of the emotions had
evolved.
As soon as the organism had passed the mere reﬂex
stage, moreover, before it could adopt its ﬁnal emo-
tional attitude in any given case it was necessary that
it should feel assured of the nature of the new object.
Here again survival or destruction was determined not
only by how the organism reacted but by whether it
reacted soon enough. And it was probably at about
this stage that suspense developed in the evolving or—
ganism by the mere hereditary survival of chance pro—
cesses that made for self-preservation.
Upon the advent of a strange object into its environ-
ment the organism assumed the attitude of suspense.
This achieved two things, both necessary to its surer
survival. In the ﬁrst place it so uniﬁed the organism in
the presence of its problem asto enable it to determine
at the earliest possible moment how to act. In the sec-
ond place it summoned all the powers of the organism
into such a readiness that when the time came for it the
action was the most effective possible.
For the mere survival of the primary organism, we
have considered about all that was necessary. When
__.I6.__
it became aware of a strange object in its environment,
the fact that it might be dangerous forced the organ-
ism to adopt the attitude of suspense. After assuring
itself that the strange object was dangerous or that it
was neutral or that it was suitable for food, the organ-
ism adopted the ﬁtting emotional attitude toward it,
did the thing the occasion called for, and survived.
In the course of evolution other characteristics evolv—
ed which were necessary to a readier adjustment of the
organism to its environment or which made this ad-
justment possible with a smaller expenditure of energy.
Thus the law of economy demanded that problems that
could be attended to by the organism in part should
not receive the attention of the organism as a whole;
and local reflex and, in course of time, a something
akin to explicit sensation developed.
During all this time, however, whenever danger was
imminent it was necessary that the organism act as a
whole; and at such times the evident function of sus—
pense would be to reunite all its phases and summon all
its powers. This was still more evidently true when
the central self-consciousness had ﬁnally evolved and
began explicitly to interpret the increasingly deﬁnite
sensations, and it remained true even when the deter-
minative faculty had evolved which we know as the
will.
This consideration of the general course of evolu-
tion should help us to realize more fully that the intel-
lect and the emotions and the will are not clearly mark-
ed and entirely isolated divisions of the psychos.4 Of
4In order to express unmistakably certain ideas without
resorting to phrases rwhich become more or less awkward by
too frequent repetition, the words psy-chos and psyclliocrasis
will be used in a speciﬁc sense. The word psychos will be
used to indicate the psychic complex as a whole, emotions,
intellect, will, and all other elements that taken together con-
__I7_
course we know both by introspection and observation
that intellectual elements are as a rule very evident in
the emotions and that emotional elements enter very
largely into the processes of intellect. We do not or-
dinarily realize, however, how intimate this connection
is; nor do we ordinarily take into consideration the
biological basis which makes it possible for these at
times seemingly wholly distinct phases so to unite as
to form a perfect psychocrasis? '
The possibility of this psychocrasis is assured us by
the fact that intellect and emotions and will have all
evolved from'a common basis. It is still further as-
sured us by the fact that throughout the upward course
of evolution at various times in the life of each indi-
vidual organism there have undoubtedly been occa-
sions when the stress of special circumstances forced
all the phases of the organism into a uniﬁcation to meet
a threatening problem. It is thus seen not only that
the needs of ordinary experience effect a partial uniﬁ-
cation of even such seemingly distinct phases of the
psychos as intellect emotions and will but that these
phases have evolved from a common basis, that
throughout the process of evolution they have under
certain conditions been reunited, and that therefore if
the proper conditions can be supplied they may be
brought into a perfect reuniﬁcation.
stiitute man’s psychic nature. The sense in which psychocrasis
will be used can be most readily understood from its constitu-
ent parts. “*Crasi-s” is already in use to indicate a union of
two elements under one aspect. “Psyeho-” in compounds re-
fers to the psychos. The word psychocrasis therefore comes
naturally to mean a union of different phases of the psychos
under one aspect. The speciﬁc meaning with Which it will be
used here is “the uniﬁcation of the different phases of the
psychos which takes place under the aspect of the sensuo'us
emotions when the spectator comes under the inﬂuence of art.”
.___18__
PART II.
THE FUNCTION 0]? SUSPENSE IN THE TRAGEDY.
Having seen that it is the function of suspense to
unify the individual in the presence of his problem and
that there is furnished us by evolution the assurance
that there is a biological basis for a vital uniﬁcation of
the emotions and intellect and will, we are now in a
position to deal directly with our special problem. For
the sake of clearness, it will ﬁrst be shown how the
suspense of tragedy makes possible a not only com-
plete but highly effective psychocras-is, and in the sec—
ond place how because of the very nature of this
psychocrasis- achieved through art it makes possible
the tragic catharsis.
In the best tragedies, from the very beginning the
tragic atmosphere arouses within the spectator a feel-
ing of something impending, not only before the in—
tellect has been given sufﬁcient data to begin its effort
toward solution but even before the inciting moment5
has foreshadowed the problem to be solved. In Mac—
beth6 we are well into the third scene before even one
wholly familiar with the play can point to a word which
5This term is used throughout in i tstechnni'cal sense to
indicate the point in the development of the drama where it
ﬁrst becomes evident what forces are to clash.
6\/Vhile drawing also from other tragedies for illustration,
especial use will be made of Macbeth because as the one
drama speciﬁcally demanded for college entrance it is prob-
ably the one most thoroughly familiar to all who are interested
in this problem. .
fo-reshadows what is to be the tragic theme. And yet
the ﬁrst scene with its witches has keyed us up to ex-
pect that in some way they will interfere in the affairs
of men, though we do not know how. The second
scene has furnished us with necessary material and
exalted the character of Macbeth till it has excited our
interest and admiration; and[ it has also furnished be-
fore the second appearance of the witches the lapse of
time necessary to let the feeling of the supernatural
grow.
This feeling of something impending, even though
it is of higher type, is essentially the same as that “feel-
ing” of something impending which in the primal 01'-
ganism sent out the call for uniﬁcation. As the intro—
duction7 advances, our feeling demands more and more
to know what is impending; and even as of old under
the inﬂuence of suspense the primal organism uniﬁed
its powers in the presence of its problem, so we too
come to the inciting moment with our powers alert to
see and solve the mystery.
Already as one thing after another has been intro—
duced into this tragic atmosphere and we feel that the
introduction must furnish at least a basis for seeing
what the problem is, we can distinguish every one of
those fundamentals which we have noted as character~
istics of suspense. As because of the essentially emo-
tional attitude of the spectator whatever psychocrasis is
effected in the tragedy must take place under the as-
pect of the emotions, the function of this earlier sus~-
pense is to begin the uniﬁcation on the emotional side
and by awakening the sensuous emotiOn-s to increase
the alertness into more than merely sensuous recep-
tivity.
7Used throughout in its technical sense to refer to that
part of the drama which precedes the. inciting moment.
But the suspense must not be too far heightened in
the introduction, for after the psychocrasis has been
begun on the emotional side the business of the drama
is not to raise the emotional intensity to the highest
pitch as soon as possible but by a more gradual uniﬁ-
cation of the emotions and intellect and will to secure
a psych-ocrasis at once deeper and more representative
of the whole than anything experience affords. If the
emotions of the spectator are too far heightened in the
very beginning, the more perfect uniﬁcation of all
phases of the psychos is apt not to be achieved and the
tragedy then becomes more of a merely emotional ex-
perience. This is the ﬂaw in the drama which plunges
too suddenly into its theme and unduly intensiﬁes it
too early in the play. W ebster’s greatest plays suffer
from this, Marlowe’s Tambourlane loses from its violent
beginning, and Shakespeare’s Richard Third has prob-
ably had its vogue because it is essentially a melodrama.
The fact that the villain is allowed to kill the innocent
and that Richmond is not made prominent enough for
a hero keeps it from being a melodrama of the blaldest
type, but as an acting play its success depends essen—
tially upon the melodramatic flux of emotions,
Beginning with the inciting moment, therefore, ele-
ments must be added to the play that call for more and
more of the intelligence of the spectator to solve the
problem. Up to the murder of Duncan we have the
physical courage of Macbeth when opposed to armed
men, his moral weakness, the res-oluteness of Lady
Macbeth, and the ambition of both. How will they.
react on each other? What will be the immediate re—
sult? What the result in the end?
Yet it is the dramatist’s business on the one hand to
see that not enough data are furnished to give the in-
tellect any chance of solving the problem as mere intel-
lect, and on the other hand so to heighten the emotional
demand for solution that more and more of the energy
of the spectator is drawn into the uniﬁcation. In Mac~
beth, therefore, we have thrust upon us more problems
than we could solve in the time given us even if we
had a more adequate basis for Solution. Macbeth,
honored by the king and people, shamed into deeper
loyalty to his king, proud of his unspotted honor with
the people, does not wish to go on. Opposed to this is
the woman’s shaming of his courage-when it is not a
question of courage. Opposed to both Stands Banquo,
Dianquo who knows of Macbeth’s temptation and who
is thrust before the audience sword in hand just be—
fore the murder to force us to remember this and
question how he will act. Then there is the dagger
which Macbeth sees in fancy and which warns us that
there is to be an inner conﬂict as well as an outer.
What will be the result of all these conflicting ele-
ments? It is beyond our power to solve the problem
or even attempt speciﬁc solution in the time given us
as the drama hurries on introducing new complications.
As a result, the intelligence seeking a solution for
which both the data and the time given are hopelessly
insufﬁcient is forced into an attitude of mere eager
outreaching closely akin to alert sensuous receptivity
and speedily becomes essentially emotional in character.
In fact throughout the entanglement it is the evident
business of the mystery to make it impossible for "the
intellect as mere intellect to make progress towards any -
solution. Likewise it is the evident business of sus-
pense to call insistently for a solution. Thus the energy
of the spectator which ordinarily displays itself as in-
tellect will be forced, to give up seeking for a solution
by the methods of intellect and to unite with the emo-
tional uniﬁcation which is already well under way.
In like manner it is the business of the entanglement
to. draw into the uniﬁcation that phase of the psycho-s
which we know under the general term of will. We
usually think of the function of the will as conﬁned to
determining and carrying into effect a personal solu-
tion. Now, however, it ﬁnds itself in a realm of sensu-
ous emotions with insufﬁcient data for any immediate
solution whatever, and with no speciﬁc solution even
offered for its decision. More than this, whenever the
data given seem to- point to any solution conflicting data
are hurried in to keep the spectator from feeling that
he can solve the problem. After Macbeth has returned
from murdering Duncan and we feel that all has gone
as it has been planned, the second adverse fancy of
Macbeth, the voice that cried “sleep no more,” keeps
us from feeling that with almost everything on their
side the ﬁnally resolute murderers will have everything
their own way. Macbeth has also brought the daggers
with him, he thinks he hears noises, he dares not re-
turn to place the daggers by the grooms; and while
Lady Macbeth goes resolutely to replace them and
“gild the faces of the grooms” we hear the “knocking
Within.”
Even when, after the delay of the porter’s scene.
Macduff and Lenno-x enter, the spectator ﬁnds that
their discovery that the king has been murdered is
kept from bringing direct results by the ﬂight of his
sons. Yet lest we feel too secure for Macbeth, even be—
fore the open declaration of Banquo at the beginning of
Act III, we are shown that suspicion is abroad. So too
in the disentanglement when we are in a way fairly
sure that Macbeth must fall, we are kept from a too
great conﬁdence in any solution by the prophecy that
three things must happen before harm can come to him,
things that seem impossible of fulﬁllment.
Accordingly as more and more energy is drawn into
the growing psychocrasis the will fails utterly to ﬁnd
a basis for any decision or choice. It is therefore im—
possible for it to make any merely individual reaction
on what is presented and solve it by deciding in favor
of some particular solution. Just because it is impos—
sible for it to ﬁnd vent for its energy in its more nar-
row aspect of choice, moreover, the will in its more
general nature of effort joins all the more unreservedly
in the uniﬁcation.
This whole process of uniﬁcation may be summed up
in some such fashion as this: We have seen from their
biological evolution that a psychocrasis of the emo-
tions, the intellect, and the will may take place if con-
ditions are given which will call insistently upon the
different phases of the psychos to unite to meet some
special problem more effectively. It is evident, more-
over, that the more evenly and insistently these condi-
tions 'call upon the different phases of the psychos, and
the more these conditions themselves tend to bring the
different phases into harmony the more perfect and
comprehensive the psychocrasis will be. We have seen
that a distinctive function of suspense is the unifying
of all the powers of the organism. More than this, we
have seen how by beginning on the emotional side and
gradually increasing the suspense, the great tragedy
summons into the psychocrasis more and more of both
intellect and will. Thus in a more effective way than
chance makes possible in experience it reunites the
emotions and intellect and will, and so gains for the
impress of the universal in the tragic drama a validity
' to which mere experience can never attain. _
We have here also the reason for the assertion that
the revelations of art, especially in the tragic drama,
are more universal than the pronouncements of philo-
sophy. P'hiloso-phy, it is often said—and it is too often
true—Qattempts to reach the universal essentially by the
isolated intellect. Art, however, achieves its end not
by the seusuous emotions merely, as is too often taken
for granted, but by the reuniﬁcation through the sen-
suous emotions of all the phases of our being. The
philosopher as such make-s merely intellectual pro-
nouncements, but art attains for itself a validity which
is not only broader, because it has the sanction of all
the phases of our being instead of that of merely one,
but which is also deeper as it has for a basis and a
guarantee of its validity the whole process of evolution
which has made us what we are.
For it is evident that the more perfect the psychocra-
sis the m-ore it includes of the vital elements in the
emotions and intellect and will. That these vital ele-
ments, moreover, have an authority outside of the or-
ganism in which they are found, is due to the laws of
evolution. For evolution took place just in proportion
as whatever was most vital in the evolving organism
adapted itself to its ever varying environment. If,
therefore, there is any universal which underlies or
enforms everything, if there is anything which uniﬁes
the world in which we have evolved, the one condition
which was absolutely essential to our evolution was
that whatever was most vital in us should become in
harmony with that universal which enforme-d, and
which still enforms, our inﬁnitely varying environment.
The fact that we have evolved thus becomes an as—
surance that what is most vital in all three phases of
our nature is in harmony with the universal, whatever
it is, which enforms our environment. The problem
of art, therefore, is to unite all that is most vital in
our emotions and intellect and will in order that the im-
__25__
press of art may have as the basis and guarantee of
its validity the whole evolutionary process.
In greater or in less fashion all art makes its impress
upon these vital elements, but it will be shown that the
tragic drama possesses two characteristics which make
its impress the most valid of all forms of art. For the
more perfect the psychocrasis the more there will enter
into it those vital elements whose harmony with the
universal in its inﬁnitely varyingenvironment made it
possible for the organism to evolve. And the more all
the vital elements of the spectators psychos are brought
into an effective reuniﬁcation the more valid will be the
impress which it receives.
On the one hand we shall see that through the sus-
pense of the tragic drama a more perfect reuniﬁcation
can be effected of the vital elements in emotions and
intellect and will than can be achieved in any other way
even in art. On the other hand we shall see how this
reuniﬁed whole is left free to act most effectively. For
it will be shown that by repeated demands for energy
on behalf of these vital elements, the elements less
vital in all the phases of our being are deprived of the
energy necessary to their continuous existence and are
thus purged away. If, therefore, in the psychocrasis
effected by the tragedy we do not have a uniﬁed being
in perfect harmony with the universal underlying alike
the spectator and his environment, we at least have the
nearest approach to it of which the human being is
capable.
‘ ,We are now in a position to set forth more explicitly
the function of suspense in a tragedy and its part in
effecting the entire process which constitutes the real
catharsis. For the sake of clearness, even at the risk of
seemingly covering the same ground more than once,
_26__
the function of suspense in- the entanglement,8 disen-
tanglement, and denoument will be trace-d, and then
three corresponding phases of the catharsis. The
grounds for maintaining that these effects are pro—
duced‘ by suspense will then be more speciﬁcally es—
tablished by showing not only how physical tension,
alertness, alternation, uniﬁcation, and the accumulation
i of energy have each their evident function in the sus~
pense of tragedy, but how through their combined
effectiveness the deeper-catharsis of tragedy is pos~
sible. And ﬁnally, the nature and scope of the cathar-
sis which the suspense of tragedy makes possible is
made still more evident by establishing the grounds
upon which all claims to permanent effects of the
catharsis must rest. .
The most evident function of suspense preceding and
during the entanglement is to create a psychocrasis the
most comprehensive possible at this stage of plot devel-
- opment. During this process, as we have seen, a very
real catharsis is effected. All that is so merely pecu-
liar to some narrowly individualistic phase of emotions
or intellect or will that it can not harmonize itself with
the reuniﬁed whole has been deprived of its'energy by
the insistent demands of suspense and has thus been
purged away.
The psychocrasis is made possible by the fact that the
emotions and intellect and will evolved from a common
psychophysical basis. Its validity depends upon the
fact that all three phases evolved just in proportion as
SLike “inciting moment” and “introduction” these terms
are used throughout with a deﬁnite technical sense. The en—
tanglement extends from the inciting moment to the climax,
the disentanglement from the climax to the ﬁnal lusis (the
last revelation needed to make the solution which the dramat—
ist gives unreservedly necessary and evident), and the de-
nouement extends from this to the end of the play.
their most fundamental elements achieved and main-
tained an essential harmony with the enforming uni--
versal in their inﬁnitely varying environment. In pro-
portion as the psychocrasis approaches perfection,
therefore, these most fundamental elements in the dif-
ferent phases of the psychos reunite.
We must not, however, in any way assume that these .
primary fundamental elements in the emotions and in-
tellect and will are all that enter the psychocrasis. It
is true that a vital reuniﬁcation becomes possible be-
cause these fundamental elements having evolved fro-m
a common psychophysical basis not only have the in-
herent possibility of reuniting but have in more or less
perfect fashion been reuniﬁed' as occasion demanded
throughout the evolutionary process. It is true that
the validity of the psychocrasis depends upon the fact
that these fundamentals when reuniﬁed do by the very
fact that a perfect psychocrasis is possible give a' sane-
tion to each other as genuine and in harmony with the
universal in their environment through harmony with
which they evolved. But the elements which enter into
the psychocrasis effected by the tragic drama. are far
more varied and inclusive than'th-e mere fundamental
elements of certain phases of the psychos. For every
element in the psychic complex of the spectator which
is sufﬁciently in harmony with these fundamentals to
make such a union possible is literally forced by the
insistent compelling suspense of the tragedy to unite
with the growing psychocrasis.
The function of these fundamentals is thus seen to
be twofold. In the ﬁrst place besides contributing cer-
tain elements toward it they create the possibility of
the psychocrasis taking place and insure its validity.
In. the second place they are a test as to whether other
elements in the psychos are universal in character or
__28__
merely individual. Whatever of any element in the
psychos can unite with these fundamentals in the for—
mation of a perfect psychocrasis is shown thereby to be
universal in its nature by the mere fact of its harmony
with them being so perfect as to make such a union
possible. On the other hand if anything in the psychos
is so merely individual that it is not essentially in har—
mony with these fundamentals it can not unite with the
growing psychocrasis.
As a result, every element in the psychos that is in
harmony with these fundamentals and therefore all
that is richest and truest in the individual experience
is drawn into the psychocrasis even where the genius
of the individual may far transcend the development of
the ordinary spectator. Every element in his being
which could make the uniﬁcation richer and fuller is
drawn into it by the compelling power of suspense and
the means used to achieve it. On the other hand, be-
cause suspense calls so insistently for all the available
energy of the psychos to solve the problem any ele—
ments which are not in harmony with these funda—
mentals are deprived of the energy necessary to their
continuous existence and are thus purged away.
This is the great fundamental characteristic of the
catharsis wherever it occurs in art. The merely indi—
vidual in the psychos is purged away that all that is
most universal in the spectator may unite unhindered
in the presence of the universal revealed: through art.
It makes no difference whether the merely individual
elements are in one case especially the overdeveloped
emotional peculiarities of the esth'ete, in another the ar-
rogance of the will in its narrowly individual character,
or in another the rigidly schematising faculty in the in-
tellect of a philosopher . Whatever the merely indi-
vidual elements are it is the function of the catharsis
to purge them away that the universal elements may
unite unhindered by their presence. In the tragic
drama, therefore, the catharsis is not to be thought of
as having to do only with the denouement; for this
catharsis of the individual is essential in the entangle-
ment since an important function of the entanglement
is to effect a psychocrasis of the spectator.
This uniﬁcation of all the elements in the psychos of
the spectator is more vital than that attained in the con—
templation of the static arts, such as sculpture and
painting, because through the tragic drama the dyna-
mic character of the will as effort is more fully included
in the uniﬁcation. The esthetic experience of the spec—
tator of the tragedy is not one of passivity, or even
merely subjective activity, but of 'a compelled activity.
The vitally uniﬁed psychos as an undivided who-1e re-
acts vitally upon everything presented to it and makes
it its own for use on the problem in hand. It is only
in the denoument that we ﬁnd that passivity which all
too many estheticians insist is always throughout the
essential of esthetic experience. It is because of the
compelled activity that precedes it, moreover, that i
even there the passivity of the esthetic experience has
its peculiar validity.
On the other hand the uniﬁcation achieved in tragedy
is more vital than that attained in the other dynamic
arts. 'It is more vital than that attained by music or
grand opera because more of the intellect is drawn into
the psychocrasis. It is more vital than that brought
about, by the epic or lyric because not only by its struc-
tural character but by its use of both. sight and sound
it has a fuller appeal than either.9
9 Tragedy and the other forms of the drama are compared
in this respect 1n the last chapter. .
.— 30—-
Through suspense and the means used to produce it,
this psychocrasis achieved during the entanglement is
always in a great tragedy exalted to the highest plane
possible. This is the real ground of Aristotle’s insis—
tence that the tragic hero must be both high in rank
and essentially good in character, and that an essential
of a great tragedy is the ennobling of its characters
and painting men better than they are. Suspense as to
the fate of such men will more readily lift us up from
the plane of everyday particularities to a plane of feel—
ing where we are ﬁtted to receive the impress of the
universal.
This is also the basis of the claim that great art, and
certainly great tragedy, must‘be idealistic rather than
realistic. The ideal becomes not only a means of uni-
versalizing in a positive way but it tends to make the
spectator lose sight of whatever is merely individualis-
tic in his attitude to- life, and to thus become more fully
in harmony with the universal underlying the work of
art. .
As a third requisite of the entanglement, to this
' psychocrasis urged on by suspense to seek the solution
of' the tragic problem there must be furnished in sen~
suous form in harmony with. its character the basis for
that solution, though the explicit solution can scarcely
be said to begin before the climax. As far as the mere
furnishing of the basis of solution is concerned, it is
generally understood that the beginning must furnish
a causal basis for the outcome in all the forms of liter-
ature involving plot as a conflict of forces. But in the
drama the necessity of furnishing this basis gives legiti-
mate opportunity for the “embellishments of language,”
the free play of the imagination, and the heightening
of the esthetic experience as. a whole. And all of these
tend to make more perfect the catharsis, the purging
—3I—.
away, of the merely individualistic so that the univer~
sal may make a more perfect impress upon the specta~
tor thus prepared to receive it.
' Accordingly after the entanglement has achieved
these results the most evident function of the disen~
tanglement is to bring into harmonious unity this
psychocrasis of the spectator and the problem of the
tragedy. In this process the function of suspense ﬁrst
shows itself through the reserve energy which has been
steadily increasing as the suspense has been heightened
until it now demands an outlet. For the revelation of
the climax makes it possible for the achieved psycho—
crasis to feel a conﬁdence in one general solution, and
to move toward it as a sensuously uniﬁed whole; and
this not only furnishes the reserve energy the outlet
which it demands but because of the free expenditure
of that pent up energy the spectator feels a pleasurable
activity instead' of mere relief from the strain when the
revelation at the climax makes a solution possible.
More important still, the free expenditure of this
energy also serves to preserve the artistic balance be-
tween the spectator and the tragic problem. The solu-
tion is generally revealed to him in the artist’s own
good time, when he has been prepared for theirevela—
tion. and the outrushing expenditure of this energy
makes him so wholly at one with each successive reve-
lation that the spectator and the problem are kept in
artistic balance. Neither becomes subordinate and it is
essential that neither should do so, as the great func-
tion of the disentanglement is to bring about a uniﬁca-
tion of the spectator and the tragic problem without
subordinating either. For only under suchconditions
can the universal in the spectator and the universal in
the tragedy become at one with each other.
There are evident reasons why the revelation must
.__33___
“if/'7'. .
444;:
, 1
'
not be complete at the climax. The mere law of econo-
my would forbid that so perfect and intense a uniﬁca-
tion of any organism should be followed by a sudden,
and complete cessation of tension, since even. in ordi-
nary experience we know that the sudden ending of
great suspense often brings collapse. Moreover, the
universal element in the problem, though it is not fully
revealed until in the denouement, begins to make itself
more and more evident throughout the disentangle—
ment. Then, too, the fuller revelation not only of the
universal but even of the problem must be gradual and
extend over some time just because the uniﬁcation of
spectator and problem is to take place in the realm of
sensuous emotion where the psychocrasis, so to speak,
“feels” its way to the solution rather than reasons it
out in clearly marked stages. Finally, if this newer
uniﬁcation is to have its deepest validity the psycho—
crasis and the tragic problem must remain together on
the same plane, and that too for some time, in order
that the uniﬁcation may be more perfect. And as a
matter of act we know that in the best tragedies the
disentanglement is a succession of partial revelations
and sometimes of new perplexities, as in the assurances
of the apparitions in Macbeth, almost as it were that
more revelations might be made.
The function of suspense in this period known as the
disentanglement is threefold. It must keep the being
alert and outreaching for each successive revelation.
Either through the old suspense producing elements
of the entanglement or through new ones it must keep
up a reserve of that energy which ﬁnds pleasurable out-
let at each successive revelation. And, ﬁnally, in spite,
of the constantly increasing uniﬁcation of the spectator
and his problem it must still keep up until the denoue-
ment a complete psychocrasis. For as it feels the solution
more and more certain the psychos of the spectator
has a tendency to sink back gradually into its normal
differentiated phases ; and this it must not be allowed
to do before the ﬁnal impress in the denouement.
Though throughout the disentanglement the psycho-
crasis is maintained and even further perfected, the
transition from the intensity of the climax to the relax-
ation which succeeds the denouement is made possible
on the one hand by the increasing uniﬁcation of the
spectator with the tragic problem and on the other by
the constant expenditure of the reserve energy in this.
pleasurable uniﬁcation. This expenditure not only
makes more effective the sensuous outreaching of the
speCtatorfor a perfect solution but, when the lastneeded
revelation has come and with the cessation of suspense
the last of the. gathered energy rushes unrestrictedly
forth to make the uniﬁcation complete, it also creates
the possibility of that calm in which the spectator and
the problem of the tragedy are no longer in the process
of becoming one, but are one.
It is this period _of calm in the denouement that the
supreme as well as ﬁnal art impress is received. In a
measure during the entanglement, and much more so
throughout the disentanglement, the spectator is made
to feel that the problem is not merely speciﬁc but more
and more universal. But the speciﬁc problem has been
so insistent that though he feels the underlying univer-
sal more and more keenly his special interest has been
to ﬁnd a speciﬁc solution. Now that the spectator and
this problem are at one, however, the deeper meaning,
the underlying universal, becomes more and more
prominent; and the uniﬁed yet hitherto still essentially
ﬁnite whole assumes a universal character.
It is certainly due to suspense, moreover, that this
period of calm is lengthened and that as its deepen
—-s4—
meaning becomes more and more prominent the uni-
versal aspect of the problem is realized by the undi—
vided consciousness of a passive whole instead of by an
active uniﬁcation insisting to the end on a speciﬁc solu-
tion. For on the one hand suspense has kept the
psychocrasis complete, has kept it purged from the
merely individualistic even when for the needs of the
immediate solution a constantly decreasing degree of
uniﬁcation would have sufﬁced, and on the other hand
it has so drawn on the energy which would ordinarily
supply the various differentiations that as soon as the
. suspense stimulus to activity ceases the energy produc-
ing cells, having overworked in their effort to supply
the demands made on them, cease to act. Until they
in a measure regain their normal initiative, therefore,
and furnish energy for the differentiation to set in, the
psychocrasis remains perfect and for the same reason
passive.
Though many devices have been used to lengthen it,
this period even at the best is not long. Its beginning
makes more effective the sensuous outreaching of the
is marked quite clearly by the ﬁnal lusis?0 of the plot,
the beginning of its end by the deep inhalation so
familiar to theatergoersl W’hatever follows this ﬁnal
lusis must be justiﬁed on the gound that, it. tends either
to prolong this period or to make it more effective. In
Hamlet, for instance, the introduction of Fortinbras
and his soldiers must be justiﬁed in some such fashion.
1° The ﬁnal lusis (see footnote p. 27) is the last revelation
needed to make the solution which the dramatist gives un-
reservedly necessary. To speak more technically it is the
revelation which marks the transition from d'isentanglement
to denouement by solving the difﬁculty which creates the
moment of last suspense. In Macbeth the moment‘ of last
suspense is “I bear a charmed life which must not yield to
one of woman born,” the ﬁnal lusis is Ma-cduff’s answer.
We may say it prolongs the period of effectiveness in
the denouement. We may say it adds to the effective—
ness of the drama by making a transition to our nor-
' mal selves more easy. Unless some such justiﬁcation
can be made apparent, however, we must characterize
everything that follows,
“And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain
“To tell my story.”
as an artistic blemish, a something added for mere
stage effect or like the last explanatory chapter of a
novel intended to satisfy possible curiosity as to de—
tails.
The brevity of this period of calm, however, is in
no sense a measure of its importance. Short though
it be it is long enough for the spectator to realize fully
that the underlying universal is the essential of the-
tragedy. Before the denouement the growing uniﬁca-
tion of the spectator with the tragic problem is still
kept very largely in the realm of the ﬁnite by the deﬁ-
nite requirements of the speciﬁc problem. Now that
the speciﬁc problem has been solved, however, and it
is no longer necessary to give heed to its merely ﬁnite
aspects, the universal in the tragedy becomes fully
revealed. That the tragedy may have its perfect effect
it is essential that this universal and the psychocrasis
of the spectator should enter harmoniously into a per-
fect uniﬁcation ;and,that this uniﬁcation may take place,
whatever is still ﬁnite in the psychocrasis .or in its con-
ception of the problem of the tragedy must be purged
away. With this last purging away of the ﬁnite that
this ﬁnal uniﬁcation may be perfect the cathartic pro-
cess is complete.
In distinguishing three phases of the catharsis it is
not intended to- lay stress upon them as distinct never
varying phases of a never varying process.~ It certainly
is not intended to insist that these three phases are al—
ways evident or even always present in every worthy
spectator of every great tragedy. The purpose, on the
one hand, is to give a more adequate presentation of
the extent of the process when it exhibits itself in its
fulness, and on the other hand it is to lay stress upon
the fact that the catharsis is systemic and not merely
speciﬁc.
Even in medicine where the reaction of speciﬁc drugs
has been studied with scientiﬁc precision it is impos-
sible to secure a wholly speciﬁ'c catharsis. It is always
systemic in effects even when the direct response to
the cathartic seems to be wholly speciﬁc. Indeed in
most cases even the cathartics which seemingly have
the most speciﬁc effects are given because of the sys-
temic nature of the less evident process which accom-
panies or follows the more evident and speciﬁc cathar—
sis. How much less the possibility of effecting a
catharsis limited to speciﬁc elements of the psychic
complex when. the whole man feels profoundly stirred.
It ought not to be necessary to call attention to the
fact that what we feel especially purged and what is
especially purged are far from necessarily the same.
As regards the tragic drama some feel that pity and
fear, since they are so strongly affected, are the emo—
_ tions purged, while others maintain that it is the emo-
tions leading to the tragic error which the spectator
actually feels have been purged by the tragedy. It
shoulcl be clear to both classes if they apply the medi-
cal analogy that a catharsis is systemic, not narrowly
speciﬁc, and that it is at least possible that the higher
function of the whole process may be something other
than the mere catharsis of certain emotions on which
a feeling of cathartic effect may become evident to the
introspective consciousness.
Perhaps, however, the nature and the extent of the
entire process to which as a who-1e the term catharsis
ought of right to be applied can be more readily seen,
and the function in it of suspense as well, if we con-
sider three phases of it as corresponding in the main
to (_ I) the entanglement, (2) the disentanglement, and
(3) the denouement. It is not intended to suggest that
any one of these phases of the catharsis is conﬁned to
one particular portion of the play, but rather that while
all may exist in the play throughout they are each
more distinctly characteristic of certain parts.
We have already seen that the business of the en-
tanglement is to effect a psychocrasis. The phase of
the catharsis most evident in the entanglement is there-
fore the purging away of whatever is so merely indi-
vidualistic in any one of the phases of the psychos that
it can not enter harmoniously into this psychocrasis.
We have seen, too, that the intellect and the will are
not less the subjects of this purgation than the emo-
tions.
In like manner we have seen that the chief function
of the disentanglement is to unify the spectator with
the tragic problem. This function has been begun in
the entanglement, and is not completed until in the
denouement; but it is none the less the special function
of the disentanglement. The catharsis of this period
will therefore be the purging from the already once
purged psychos of whatever would prevent its fullest
uniﬁcation with the tragic problem. This does not as—
sert that the catharsis which characterized the en—
tanglement may not still be going on in an effort for
a more perfect psychocrasis. Even gran-ting, however,
that this more distinctly individual psychocrasis is
complete, the function of the disentanglement is so to
purge it of its ﬁnite individuality and whatever is nar—
rowing in its merely personal nature that there can be
brought into the uniﬁcation not only those phases of
the psychos uniﬁed through suspense in the entangle-
ment but also the outer world as revealed in the prob-
lem of the tragedy. '
At ﬁrst thought this second purgation is not so
evident as the former. But if in Macbeth one com-
pares the ﬁnitely individual view the spectator has in
the ghost scene with the broader outlook he has at-
tained even by the time of the last witch scene he will
see that a purgation essentially different fro-m that of
the entanglement is taking place. In the ghost scene
(the beginning of the disentanglement) he sees a man
being overtaken by his crimes, in the last witch scene
(half way through the disentanglement) he sees a man,
the type of all men, in the toils of fate. The problem
is assuming a universal aspect. The spectator is in
process of becoming the universal man.
But even at the best both the psychocrasis and the
tragic problem are still essentially ﬁnite throughout the
disentanglernent to the ﬁnal revelation which marks
the denouement, for the speciﬁc problem still demands
a speciﬁc solution. WVhen at length, however, the
speciﬁc problem is solved, and the spectator is thus
released from the necessity of seeking a ﬁnite solution,
it becomes possible in the catharsis of the denouement
to purge from that psychocrasis the last trace of the
ﬁnite, and thus to allow it as a universal to unite with
the universal which the tragedy now unreservedly
reveals.
In all this functioning of the catharsis. moreover,
suspense has in the main depended for its effectiveness
upon those ﬁve fundamentals which are evident alike
in ourselves and the lower animals. and which in all
probability were essential to its efﬁciency as a factor
in evolution in. the prehuman organism. Indeed, so
far as the catharsis is concerned, from the beginning
of suspense in the introduction to the cessation of sus—
pense in the denouement, we need scarcely consider any
but these ﬁve: physical tension, alertness, alternation,
accumulation of reserve energy, and the uniﬁcation of
the organism. “Yet we can readily see that these ﬁve
are distinctly functioning characteristics, for most of
them evidently have a deﬁnite function from introduc-
tion to denouement. - .
This is probably evident as regards alertness and
uniﬁcation. For both are necessary to the readier so-
lution of the problem, and the latter is necessary to the
validity of that solution both in its special and in its
more and more universal aspect. We shall see that it
is true of alternation, of the accumulation of reserve
energy, and even of physical tension.
As regards alternation, for instance, it is in the ﬁrSt
place an essential factor, if not indeed the essential
factor, in the accumulation of reserve energy. The
possibility of many solutions, the uncertainty as to what
Macbeth will do, the doubt as to Banquo’s attitude, the
growing me-nan-ce of Macd'uff, these and a host of
other elements of the problem are alternately thrust on
the consciousness and force it to respond now this way
now that. With every new phase of the problem thrust
upon the consciousness of the spectator," more-over,
there is the call from the growing psychocrasis for
more energy, the demand for more energy to be ready
to meet the new complexity.
This alternation is also needed in the entanglement
to achieve and in the disentanglement to maintain the
psychocrasis. Of the ﬁve characteristics of suspenSe
which we have mentioned it is the one which has con-
tinually dynamic manifestation. It is the life of sus—
pense. When alternation ceases, when suspense be-
comes mere waiting, suspense is deadening. When
complexities are so piled up or when destruction is so
imminent that the consciousness is overwhelmed, alter-
nation as an outward acting dynamic element ceases to
exist. When a promised solution is offered, alterna-
.tion ceases as conﬁdence in it as the proper solution
begins to be well established; but if at this point the
solution is shown to be impossible the element of sheer
thwartedness enters. In either of these cases suspense
becomes not merely deadening but destructive. Alter-
nation, however, keeps the organism dynamic in its
own right; and it is in addition the necessary method
by which the alertness induced by suspense attains
effectiveness.
As regards the accumulation of reserve energy, its
chief function in the entanglement is to deprive the
merely individualistic elements in the' psychos of the
energy necessary to their continuous existence, and to
strengthen the growing psychocrasis by putting more
and more energy at its disposal. In the disentangle—
ment it adds to this latter function by making'possible
its own lavish expenditure in perfecting the uniﬁca-
tion of the spectator with each new partial revelation
of the problem. An added service is found, moreover,
in the denouement where ﬁrst the physical tension. is
seen to have unmistakably a deﬁnite and special bear-
ing on the catharsis.
In the entanglement this physical tension. very prob— . .
ably on the one hand ﬁnds a vent for those lower ener-
gies which are so merely physical that they could not
enter into the psychocrasis, and on the other hand
gives to it a more conscious feeling of assuredness by
supplying a sense of physical backing. In the disen-
tanglement it still more probably protects the uniﬁed
psychos from the advent of lower phases into con-
sciousness even if by nothing more than by lessening
the spectator’s susceptibility to things other than. the
matter in hand. In the denouement, however, when the
suspense ceases it is undoubtedly this physical tension
on the one hand and the accumulation of reserve ener-
gy on the other that have so exhausted the spo-nta-.
neous energy of the spectator that the psychocrasis is
rendered passive to receive the supreme impress of the
tragedy.
Considering the drama as made up of entanglement,
disentanglement, and denoument we may therefore
state the general function of suspense in the catharsis
somewhat as follows.
In the entanglement suspense forces the emotions
and intellect and will into so perfect a psychocrasis that
those elements which can not enter such a union are
purged away. In the disentanglement, whatever is
merely individual even in this psychocrasis is purged
away as the problem becomes more and more univer-
sal in its nature, and in the denouement the spectator,
purged for the time being of all that is merely indi—
vidualistic, becomes for the moment universal man in
the presence of the universal which the tragedy reveals.
PART III.
THE NATURE AND SCOPE or THE CA’I‘HARSIS.
The nature and scope of this catharsis which the
suspense of tragedy makes possible is made still more
evident by establishing the grounds upon which all
claims to permanent effects of the catharsis must rest.
It is true that soon after the period of highest effective-
ness in the denouement the different phases of the
psychos reassert themselves as such, since the ﬁnite
problem which brought about the psychocrasis has been
solved. The intellect returns to its differentiated as—
pect, sensation becomes again mere sensation receiving
its interpretation more or less explicit from an explicit
central consciousness, and the will reasserts itself and
resumes its sway over the volitional acts of body and
mind. And yet while all these phases were perfectly
uniﬁed they as a who-1e received a deeper and truer im-
press of the universal than would have been otherwise
possible. we may well feel, therefore, that even after
differentiation takes place the effects of this deeper im-
press must in some way remain with all the phases
which were included in the psychocrasis.
To be sure, as soon as the psychos has returned to
its differentiated phases the intellect sets in to interpret,
and because of' its narrowness as only one phase of the
psychos it has not the validity of the uniﬁed whole.
Moreover, because it is acting merely as one phase of
the psychos, the intellect has lost the universal charac~
ter which the psychocrasis possessed under the inﬂu-
ence of the universal in the tragedy, and the individual
peculiarities of each spectator’s methods of thought
reassert themselves. As a result, the intellect may
somewhat misinterpret, may even utterly warp what
was revealed. Ask a man who has evidently been
powerfully impressed by Macbeth what the play means
and, when he forces his intellect to interpret, the an-
swer will be partial, is apt to be shallow, and is gener-
ally conﬁned to ambition.
And the will, especially in its more narrowly moral
aspects, as it regains its sway and ﬁnds it necessary to
harmonize deﬁnitely the import of the tragedy with its
basis of action in ordinary life may do equal violence
to the real impress the psychocrasis received. Thus it
may force us to seek a moral even from the plays of
Shakespeare. In Othello, for instance, it may narrow
us down and warp us into laying stress upon the self-
evident p-latitude that a man must not give way to
jealousy. But inspite of these narrow interpretations
the fact remains that while the psychocrasis was still
complete and exalted to the plane of universal man, it
did as a perfectly uniﬁed whole receive the direct im-
press of the universal underlying the tragedy.
Fortunately, moreover, it is not necessary in insist—
ing on the validity of the impress of a great tragedy
to insist on the validity of any narrow interpretation
of that impress. Indeed in view of the insistence that
the catharsis is fundamental rather than special and of
the whole rather than of any differentiated phase it is
not needful to attempt to establish an unvarying speci—
ﬁc effect upon one special phase such as emotions or
intellect or will. At best, moreover, such attempts will
from the very narrowness of their purposes warp our
conception of the real character of the permanent
__.44___.
effects of the catharsis, if indeed any such effects are
permanent.
Instead of attempting to localize the after effects of
the catharsis. the more fundamental basis for whatever
permanent after effects may take place should be laid
deep enough so that it may legitimately inﬂuence all
the phases of the psychos. To say that by repeated
purgation certain phases of the psychos get a tendency
to stay purge-d, fails in not being sufﬁciently funda-
mental. It fails to take into consideration the sub-con-
scious basis of all the phases of our nature, that which
underlies all the phases of consciousness and which
enables man as an individual not only to react toward
the outside world but to make it a part of himself.
In order to insist upon this point of view all we need
to do is to recognize frankly some evident facts which
result from biological evolution. We know that the
speciﬁc emotions and intellect and will evolved from
something more basic, more fundamental, in the or-
ganism than any speciﬁc form of its expression could
possibly be. We know, moreover, even without en—
quiring especially into its nature, that whatever its
speciﬁc character may or may not be this something
more fundamental is what makes the individual an
individual, is what so uniﬁes organically all his various
powers and activities as to make it possible for a man
to recognize himself as an individual. It is that unity
or unifying power which from the beginning of the
evolutionaryprocess has enforced into at least a work-
ing harmony with itself all the elements which have
entered into the evolving organism. In harmony with
this function this enforming unity, or subconscious
basis of individuality or whatever we call it, transforms
into a working harmony with itself the life experience
of the individual.
The emotions and intellect and will are not, then,
clear cut divisions of the psyclios but merely phases of
it, though differentiated in response to the needs of
the evolvingorganism until in their extreme aspects they
may seem even hostile to each other. The possibility
of- their harmony is always to be found, moreover, in
this enforming unity; for if it is to exercise such. a
unifying power over the different phases of the psychic
complex as to enform them into an essentially indi-
vidual psychos it must necessarily enform their most
fundamental elements.
In all probability, therefore, upon changes in this
enforming unity depend all changes of an essentially
fundamental character in the differentiated phases of
the psychos which rise above yet for their validity de-
pend upon this subconscious unity which enforms them
all. If, then, the catharsis or if the tragedy is to have
an after effect different in kind or even. essentially in
degree from other experiences of the individual, the
tragedy must affect this subconscious unity in a cor-
respondingly different way or in a different degree.
' In its function of assimilating new experiences this
enforming unity is called by psychologists the apper-
ceptive mass and is after all the basis upon which all
our experiences receive their interpretation,even though
in the majority of cases it is not evident that anything
more than one of the mere phases of the psycho-s is
involved. Each successive experience has its effect on
‘ the apperceptive mass (or, as some psychologists would
say, becomes a part of it) and helps to interpret suc-
ceeding experiences. The interpretation of any ordi-
nary experience, however, is in no sense at the hands
of all the phases of the psychos but rather, as indeed
the law of economy would demand, a merely practical
interpretation for the evident needs 'of the moment.
_46_
This is the validity of an ordinary experience, and its
effect on this enforming unity is merely the effect of
something which comes in distinctly as a subordinate
thing. It comes in, moreover, more or less through
one of the mere phases of the mind; and its appeal can
therefore scarcely be said to be' directly to- the enform-
ing unity but only in a mediate fashion as, for example,
through explicit sensation and explicit mental inter-
pretation.
Art, however, can properly be said to have a more
direct contact with this enforming unity. Entering
not through explicit sensation as such but rather
through the sensuous emotions, it is not subjected to
the narrowing interpretation of only one phase of the
psychos ; but the psychos as a whole feels it and its im-
press on the enforming unity is so much the more
direct. In tragedy, moreover, certain speciﬁc condi—
tions make possible the greatest known freedom of
impress upon this enforming unity.
It is evident, in the ﬁrst place, that the fact that the
problem and the spectator are specially prepared “for
each other would give what takes place under such
conditions a deeper impress than o-rdinary'experiences.
It would, moreover, have a deeper validity from the
fact that through suspense all the phases possible have
been drawn into the psychocrasis and that even the
mere cognitive side of the experience is not through
the medium of any one phase but through the reuniﬁed
whole. Then too, through the insistent demands of
suspense there is drawn into the psychocrasis all-that
is fundamental in the spectator and all that is most
intimately concerned with his welfare. Accordingly,
the enforming unity, which could not rise into con—
sciousness as any one of the speciﬁc phases of the
psychos, rises here in the reuniﬁed whole and gives it
added validity. 'Thus it is made possible for the uni—
versal in the tragedy to make a direct impress on this
enforming unity. :
It is here if at all that we must ﬁnd our deeper basis
for the enduring effects of the catharsis and of the
tragedy. The tragic d'rama through the insistent .calls
of suspense draws into the psychocrasis not only evi-
dent special phases such as emotions and intellect and
will but all that is vital in every differentiated phase
of his psychos and the enforming unity of them all.
Thus, when the special problem has been solved which
through the tragic drama has brought about the
psychocrasis, the enforming unity as a vital part of the
uniﬁed whole receives the impress of the universal
underlying the tragedy. Even when it s-inks back into
its ordinary subconscious state, therefore, it will in
some measure be inﬂuenced by this direct impress.
The chief claim of art to a permanent effeCt differ-
ing essentially from that of ordinary experience is
thus seen to be based upon the fact that through art
thefe enter into this enforming unity elements essen-
tially different fro-m the elements that enter in any
other way. For the elements that enter through ordi—
nary experience are so transformed by the phase of
the psychos through which they enter as to make them
in harmony with that phase and with the merely indi-
vidual needs of the moment. Elements that enter
through art do so through less narrowly interpretative
channels, retaining therefore more of their universal
character. \IV hen as in tragedy, moreover, the psycho- _
crasis is complete and thrice puriﬁed to receive it, the
universal underlying the tragedy enters in its own right
and fulness; and though the different phases after-
wards reassert themselves nevertheless there remains
in this enforming unity an element which entered not
_48_
through the narrowing channels through which ordi-
nary experiences must pass, being thus transformed
until they are in harmony with that which transforms
them, but which entered free and in its fulness.
It is true that because of the variety and extent of
experience interpretations which this enforming unity
rep-resents it is extremely doubtful whether the many
successive universal elements which may enter through
art will be able in course of time to transform it and
thus purify the differentiated phases of one’s nature,
unless indeed they serve merely to turn- the balance in
favor of a transformation tendency well advanced“ from
other causes. But, on the other hand, that such uni-
versal elements should have no permanent inﬂuence at
all is inconceivable unless some undiscovered reason
he found. Whether or not, however, this added in-
ﬂuence be sufﬁcient to affect this enforming unity so-
as radically to inﬂuence the pronouncements of speciﬁc
phases of man’s mind, still the tragic catharsis has
performed its deeper mission in making possible the
entrance to this enforming unity of the impress of un—
trammeled and unwarp-ed universal elements.
The temporary puriﬁcation, which we have seen the
tragedy effects, lingers even in consciousness for some
time after the psychocrasis begins to differentiate into
the different phases which united to form it, and doubt-
less lingers subconsciously for some time after the
spectator has fully regained his normal state. This
would doubtless through frequent repetition form a
basis of cell habit for permanent cathartic effects; but
if any such permanent effects are brought about even
on thus prepared phases of the psychos it will be-
through the unity underlying and enforming them all.
Even the immediate cathartic effect, however, re-
quires some such fundamental explanation. It is not
enough for one to say “this is how I feel after hearing
a great drama, therefore the catharsis consists of that
which I see in its results on myself.” A very little
careful inquiry will show anyone that the conscious
cathartic effect not only is often somewhat different
in different people but sometimes varies widely. Yet
any adequate explanation of the catharsis must be one
which can ﬁnd legitimate place for the effect of every
great-tragedy upon every worthy spectator.
Two possible reasons at once suggest themselves as
to why these conscious effects vary so. One is that the
reactions which take place as they listen to the play
are different in different spectators. The other ex-
planation would hold that the differences arise after
the actual experience when each spectator comes to
interpret the experience which he has passed through.
For this interpretation willpbe inﬂuenced in the ordi—
nary observer by his general attitude to life, in the
critic by his critical preconceptions, in the philosopher
by his world theory.
These two explanations, however, are not really as
much at variance with each other as they may at ﬁrst
seem. Take an extreme case. Say that Hegel and
Schopenhauer heard Hamlet under such conditions that
the tragedy had its perfect art effect on each. In pro-
portion as this effectiveness was attained each became
at one with the universal revealed in the tragedy. In
proportion as each did so he lost for the time being
his distinCtive beliefs, his peculiar attitude to life, his
particular individuality. These were purged from the
consciousness of each as he became wholly at one with
the universal revealed in the tragedy, and impossible .
as such a thing would have been in ordinary life, and
incredible as it at ﬁrst seems even in the realm of art,
Schopenhauer and Hegel were therefore at one with
each other. i 3
Those who hold to the ﬁrst explanation will say that
each spectator in his normal state is at variance with
the universal revealed in the tragedy; but that Hegel
is at variance in some respects and Schopenhauer in
others. Therefore the reaction which takes place as
they listen to Hamlet must be different before they can
be wholly at one with the work of art. This will be
equally true of all spectators and when each comes to
interpret the effect which the tragedy has had on him
what would be more natural than that he should feel
a consciousness of purgation on the one hand in those
emotions which have been especially aroused or on the
other hand in those phases of his consciousness which
were so prominent that they had to be purged away
before he could be at one with the universal revealed
in the tragedy. ~
In dealing with this phase of the problem we need
to keep steadily in mind the fact that, to» use Huxley’s
‘ phrase, one' fact goes slick through a thousand theories.
The great ﬂaw in most that has been written upon the
subject of the catharsis is this tendency of each writer
to disregard the facts outside his own particular theory.
Some people, for instance, will insist that every spec—
tator of Macbeth feels his ambition purged. This
sounds plausible enough, but any considerable amount
of thoroughly honest and fairly intelligent investiga-
tion will prove to any one that it simply is not a fact.
The theorist may say, if he wishes to be dogmatic, that
every spectator is purged as to his ambition whether
he feels it or not; but a theorizer must not say that
every worthy spectator must feel purged. as to any
special emotion in any special play. When‘he ques~
tions any considerable number of persons of different
..._51_.
temperaments, different in education, and with differ-
ent views of life, he will almost invariably ﬁn-d| that even
in his chosen play the facts will not uphold him. Most
encouraging of all for the future of this problem, he
will generally ﬁnd that it is among the higher types of
the audience that he ﬁnds the testimony that complete] y
invalidates his theory.
He must therefore come to the conclusion that as
far as conscious effects are concerned, the catharsis
varies. When the investigator has reached this point
there is hope. For if lie is to- ﬁnd a valid explanation
of the catharsis he ought to realize that it must be
such a one as will furnish at least a legitimate explana-
tion of all the conscious effects which take place.
Such an explanation would at ﬁrst thought seem
more easily furnished by the theory which holds that
the differences in conscious effects arise after hearing
the play when each spectator interpretsthe experience
he has passed through, each in his own way. This
theory, however, merely lays the stress on the other
part of the whole experience. We may say that there
is a reaction of the play on the spectator during its
performance and a reaction of the spectator on the
experience he has passed through; but they are really
both a part of the same experience, for the reaction of
the play does not stop as long as it remains in the con-
sciousness. Depending in part on temperament, how-
ever, but in part also on previous attitude to life and
on other things as well, the attitude of one spectator
will be determined for the most part by the reaction
which takes place while the play is in progress, while
that of another will be rather the more or less explicit
interpretation which he makes of it after the dramatic
performance is over.
Among this latter class we ﬁnd especially those who
_.52__
go to see the tragedy with a pretty deﬁnite theory as
to how they ought to feel after it is over. Of course
the testimony of such persons can not be taken at face
value as to the real cathartic effects of the: tragedy.
Another class to whose opinions too much importance
is likely to be assigned are those wholike Hegel and
Schopenhauer have world theories to support and who
will therefore necessarily interpret the drama not in its
own right but as subordinate to their theories. In such
cases it may perhaps be legitimate. for the student of -
the catharsis to disregard the testimony of any persons
where he can show that their testimony is biased and is
not a genuine report of the actual effect of the drama.
But evenhere he must exclude only so much of the tes—
timony as is clearly forced interpretation. It is just as
incumbent on his theory to account for the actual
effects on a philosopher or a critic as for the effects on
a business man or an artist.
We gain a conception of the catharsis Sufﬁciently
fundamental to explain these varied effects only when
we conceive of it as essentially systemic rather than
speciﬁc. More readily than in any other way, more~
over, we may see by considering the function of sus—
pense in the process how essentially systemic the
catharsis in the drama is. In fact it is through the
means by which suspense is aroused and the manner
in which suspense is ended that the catharsis of tragedy
is so distinctly more important than the catharsis which
takes place under the inﬂuence of other arts. Indeed
in criticism the term is for the most part used only
with reference to the tragic drama and many are una-
ware that the term can with propriety be used with
reference to any other form of art. ‘
Of course this is a. mistake. Aristotle himself used
the term ﬁrst with reference to music and, as we have
already pointed out, the way in which any work of art
attains a higher validity than ordinary experience is
due to a process essentially cathartic in'its nature. For
before one can become so in harmony with the univer—
sal revealed in any work of art that he can in any real
sense be said to have received the impress of its uni—
versal, unwarped and not narrowed by his merely indi-
vidualistic reaction, there must in some way have been
purged from his psychic complex those elements which
_make for individualistic reaction in ordinary exper-
iences.
This catharsis in the sense in. which it is common
to art as a whole need not be complete, however, in
order for us on this ground to justify as art the work
which caused it._ It need only be sufﬁcient for us to
feel that the art impress is in some way essentially
different from that of ordinary experience. Thus in
most genre painting three out of'ﬁve ordinary specta-
tors will feel a distinctly individualistic reaction, and
the same will be found true of many comedies and most
novels. In the higher art, however, at least this con—
sciousness of reaction as a distinct individual must be
purged away and one must feel that he is not only in
the presence of but a part of the universal.
How fully are the emotions and intellect and will
drawn into the psychocrasis so that they may thus re-
ceive the direct impress of the universal underlying the
work of art? While not the only question to be taken
into consideration this it would seem is certainly the
chief one to ask when endea'voring to ascertain which
ones of the different arts have the fuller and higher
and deeper impress. It is, moreover, with especial
reference to this question that the function of suspense
in the catharsis of tragedy becomes most evident.
Though an element essentially akin to suspense en-
ters into the static arts,11 especially architecture, it has
here no such compelling power as suspense possesses
in the arts which are essentially dynamic in character.
\Vhatever of the phases of his nature may be drawn
into the psychocrasis of the spectator of these static
arts there is yet lacking the biologically compelling
power of suspense to draw into it elements which would
not otherwise enter or which do not enter with sufﬁ—
cient fullness to make the psychocrasis the most in—
clusive poSsible.
What amounts to very much the same thing is true
of all the dynamic arts except tragedy. Suspense en—
ters very largely into most of them but in none except
tragedy does it enter in such fashion as to stir the
spectator to the utmost depths and compel all that is
most vital to unite in the presence of the universal and
receive its unhindered impress. We need not take up
the other dynamic arts one by one, we need only see
why suspense becomes more effective during the pro—
gress of the tragedy than in any other art and why the
total effectiveness is greater in the end. We need, in
other words, to see ﬁrst why suspense in a great
tragedy must be of a more compelling nature than in
any other art so that it reaches down to the very depths
of the spectators nature and brings all that is most
vital into the psychocrasis. In addition to this we need
to see. what difference there is between tragedy and
the other arts in the ﬁnal use made of suspense and the
results attained through it. '
We ﬁnd in the very nature of the tragedy itself both
these things we need to realize. In tragedy suspense
reaches deeper down than in any other art and calls
with a more compelling power upon all that is most
‘1 Painting, sculpture, and architecture.
__33_
vital in the spectator simply because it is tragedy. In
all art with other than a tragic ending, if it is good art
there must throughout be at least a subconscious feel-
ing of“ assuredness that all will yet be well with the
hero. Even when complications are thickening fast in
the schauspiel, or reconciling drama, when the specta-
tor can see no possible grounds of hope for the hero,
still if the art be true art there must be from the be—
ginning the preparation for the schauspiel rather than
the tragic end. Moreover because this end is prepared
for in the schauspiel, and still more evidently in the
comedy, there must be in the soul of the spectator,
whether he is conscious of it or not, a feeling of as—
suredness that all will yet end well. Under such con—
ditions it can scarcely be conceived otherwise than that
in the presence of this at least partial assuredness no
call of suspense nor anything else can bring unre—
servedly into the uniﬁcation all the elements most vital—
ly concerned with the well—being of an individual whose
well-being is already at least partially assured.
In the tragedy, however, the tragic end must like-
wise be foreshadowed. There is in the spectator no
lurking feeling of security and, with the tragic neces—
sity overshadowing it all, when the insistent demands
of suspense call for more and more energy to meet the
tragic problem all that is most vital in every phase of
the psychos must respond. Thus in a tragedy there is
drawn into the uniﬁcation in fuller and completer
fashion more of the vital elements of the spectator than
is possible where greater or less grounds of security
make the call of suspense of necessity less compelling.
In the denouement of the tragedy, moreover, this
psychocrasis is brought more directly in contact with
the universal than is possible in other than a tragic
end. In all other possible endings even the ﬁnal im-
press of the universal is in mediate fashion, in the
tragic ending only does it become direct. In the schau-
spiel, for instance, no matter how you glorify your hero
he is still an individual and whatever of the universal
you see, you see it mediately through him. In the
tragedy, however, the whole fabric, so to speak, is
torn asunder and we meet the universal face to face.
The hero is an individual; the individual as such must
perish before the larger universal of which he was but
a part can be directly revealed. I
We are now in a position to see what the catharsis
as a systemic process really is in its entirety. It is the
purging of all the most vital elements in the spectator
in such fashion as to make it possible for him as a com-
pletely uniﬁed being to receive the impress of the uni-
versal which the tragedy reveals. It is the purging
away of every element which» would hinder the psycho—
crasis or keep it on so low a plane of the merely ind-i—
vidualthat the universal could not make itself felt as
such. This is the catharsis in its entirety as it is found
in the great tragedy.
In some other arts, however, notably in music and in
the schauspiel the cathartic process is so marked that
the term may very properly be applied. Whether it
should be app-lied to still other arts also, to painting
and sculpture and. architecture, for instance, is not
however a question of degree only but of diction, for
the connotation of the word catharsis implies more of
a compelling character than the free, uncompelled sur-
rendering up of one’s self which characterises so many
spectators of these static arts. What we need to note
here is that wherever it is found in art the catharsis
is systemic, with no clearly deﬁned limits to its action
even where it may at ﬁrst thought seem speciﬁc and
limited. It is the compelling nature of the catharsis
of the tragic drama that most evidently distinguishes
it from the catharsis which takes place through the
other arts.
Elsewhere than in tragedy the catharsis is systemic
but partial; in the tragedy, systemic and complete. In
music, for instance, the cathartic inﬂuence extends to
the intellect for the most part only by indirection, in
the tragedy the call upon the intellect is direct and
compelling. In short the distinction between the
catharsis effected by the tragedy and that attained
through other arts is that in the tragedy only are emo~
tions and intellect and will alike literally forced to
join wholly and unreservedly in the uniﬁcation, the
catharsis consisting in the purging away from every
one of these uniting phases their merely individualistic
elements in such fashion that the resulting psychocrasis
is not individualistic but universal in its essential char-
acter.
To illustrate from another view point, just as the
artist in the treatment of his material must exclude all
elements of the outer world which would.- prevent the -
universal being revealed in the work of art, so it is the
business of the catharsis to exclude all elements in the
inner world which would keep the universal so "revealed
from being apprehended in its fullness. Anyone will
readin understand that the idiosyncrasies which make
men republicans or democrats, optimists or pessimists,
presbyterians or methodists or what not, are not only
not of a character to make them effective in the appre—
hension of a universal presented through art but are
of such a narrowly individualistic nature as to be ac—
tually inimical to any such apprehension. Such activi-
ties of the mind must therefore be purged away
whether they are essentially emotional, intellectual, or
volitional in character.
Nor is it at all an impossible thing for elements of a
living Whole to be purged away and yet to- reappear.
As every phase of activity depends for its very exis-
tence upon the energy which gives it life, all that is
necessary in order to purge away any such element of
the psycho-s is to deprive it of the energy by which
alone its existence could interfere with the more uni-
versal elements. Nor is this catharsis as it occurs in
the tragic drama-a merely negative process as is almost
universally assumed. The energy is. in no sense lost
but rather becomes more effective. On the negative
side it is true that the merely individualistic elements
are purged away by being deprived of the energy which
is necessary to their continuous existence. The posi-
tive side of the process, however, is equally true and
quite as important. The demands for this energy are
made in behalf of the more universal elements and
those that are individualistic are purged away through
yielding up their energy to the universal. Thus the
universal is not only strengthened but 'made all-inclu-
sive by the self-surrender of the merely individual.
It is because the catharsis of tragedy is so systemic
and complete that a basis has been found for so many
theories as as to what it is, since by laying sufﬁcient
stress on certain things it has been found easy to disre-
gard everything else in the process. Some are led
temperamentally to exalt certain things and disregard
others, some are led to do so because of their past ex-
periences, some through their race, perhaps, and cer—
tainly many, through having preconceptions as to what
to look for. Thus at the end of the same tragedy one
will feel purged of his self-sufﬁciency, one strength-
ened to endure the buffets of fate, one in harmony and
at conﬁdence with his universe. Upon the man who
has had bitter experiences the tragedy will almost cer-
tainly have a different reaction than upon one who has
lived in peace and contentment, and'though we can not
assert it of each individual in the race it would be
strange indeed if the reaction upon the Frenchman and
the German were entirely the same. This racial differ-
ence, rather than any other, is probably at the basis
of the disagreement between Corneille and Lessing.
The temperamental difference explains most naturally
the difference between Corneille and, Voltaire, while
traces of his preconceptions are fairly evident in the
reaction of the tragedy upon almost every spectator
who has studied the drama or who has decided views
on life.
No wonder then that there have been so many deﬁ-
nitions of catharsis. If the rank and ﬁle of theatergoers
had each taken the trouble to tell us what each thought
the catharsis to be there would doubtless have been
inﬁnitely more. The simple and‘ evident fact is that as
the catharsis of the tragedy takes place in each indi—
vidual spectator as it ﬁnds him, even in a process which
is essentially systemic in its nature the speciﬁc reactions
which must take place before he can become in perfect
harmony with the universal revealed in the drama must
necessarily differ somewhat with different spectators.
When this difference is sufﬁcient to make an impress
on the after consciousness of the spectator as he looks
back on the effect of the tragedy we have the basis of
disagreement as to what constitutes the catharsis. We
have here, too, a proof which alone, 'even if we had no
other, ought to convince us that the catharsis is not
speciﬁc but systemic.
In the light of such considerations the function of
suspense in the catharsis becomes all the more evident.
The more fundamental our conception of the catharsis
the more we recognize in suspense the compelling
l—6o—
power that forces all that is most vital in us to enter
the psychocrasis and, through striving to enter into a
psychocrasis which is becoming more and more uni--
versal, to purge itself of whatever in its nature is so
merely individual as to hinder its doing so. Suspense
not only achieves but maintains this psychocrasis so
that by contact with the universal, which as the drama
progresses becomes more and more evident, it too may
become more and more universal in its character. In
short, throughout the tragedy, by its insistent and
varied demands upon every phase of our being sus-
pense monopolizes for the psychocrasis not only all the
energy that the energy producing cells of every phase
of our nature furnish of their own accord, but all they
can be made to produce.
As a result, all that is merely individual in the spec-
tator is purged away by being deprived of the energy
necessary to its continuous existence. Moreover, be-
cause the demands of suspense upon the energy pro-
ducing cells have been so insistent and varied, these
cells have been exhausted by the production of the re-
quired energy and as soon as the suspense stimulus
is withdrawn they therefore lapse temporarily into in—
activity. And here, ﬁnally, the supreme function of
suspense in the catharsis becomes evident, since it is
through its functioning that it becomes possible for
the psychocrasis as a completely passive and perfect
whole to receive the direct impress of the universal
which the tragedy reveals.
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