On Catharsis, or Resolution

Author(s): Kenneth Burke

Source: The Kenyon Review, Vol. 21, No. 3 (Summer, 1959), pp. 337-375
Published by: Kenyon College
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THE

KENYON

Vol. XXI

SUMMER,

REVIEW
1959

No. 3

Kenneth Burke

ON CATHARSIS,OR RESOLUTION
THIS ESSAYis partof a Poetics.
I assume that such a project should be developed with
Aristotle's Poetics in mind. Not that the extant parts of that old
text should be taken either as authority or as "the enemy." But I
consider it an ideal point of departure, or benchmark, a handy
spot from which to locate any survey of the field.
Ironically, among the greatest attractions of Aristotle's text
is the part that is missing, the section that presumably explained
the final clause in the definition of tragedy: "through pity and
fear, bringing about the catharsisof such emotions." Yet all that
survives are the paragraphson musical catharsis, in the Politics,
with the assurance that the subject is to be treated at greater
length in the Poetics.
Those paragraphsin the Politics at least give reason to infer
that the treatment in the Poetics was not essentially different, and
that the kind of "purge" produced by tragedy may have been
specifically considered from the "civic" point of view (as a
species of political purge), in contrast with the stress on intimate,
family relationships in Freud's views on the cathartic effects of
psychoanalysis.
Since the structureof the family and the structureof society
imply each other, there can be a large area of overlap between
these two emphases. And Aristotle explicitly gives a recipe for
the ways in which conflicts can be made more dramatic by
reduction to terms of family relationship (as in stories of our

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RESOLUTION

Civil War, with one brother on the North and one on the South,
or with lover and sweetheart similarly divided). But to say so is
to be reminded that Aristotle'sformula would make the "Oedipus
complex" look more like a mere rule of thumb for playwrights
than like the major motive Freud would see it as, the motive
which broods over all culture. To my knowledge, the clearest
statement of the purely "civic"emphasis is in George Thomson's
Aeschylus and Athens, a book unjustly neglected probably because many seem to feel that they should keep their minds closed
to all Marxist criticism, even the best. The present study of
Catharsisaims to establisha position to which the intimate, family
aspects of the problem and the socio-politicalaspects are equally
available. In this sense, we would see, brooding over society, not
specifically the Oedipus Complex, nor even, more generally, a
conflict between "Eros"and "Thanatos,"but still more generally,
the "Sacrificial Motive," the theme of "mortification" and its
variants.This would be taken to sum up the element of suffering,
of victimage, which is basic to tragic conflict.
The vocabulary of tragedy, like all vocabulary, has three
empirical non-linguistic sources to draw on: the human body,
the "world's body" (the natural scene), and the body politic.
(The last would include the whole range of personal and social
relations, as between parents and offspring, ruler and subjects,
doctor and patient, teacher and student, employer and employee,
the area of relationships in which are interwoven such conditions
as authority, obedience, disobedience, service, exploitation, cooperation, competition, in brief the vast tangle of motives implicit
in the nature of a complex social Order.) "Pain" would be a
word drawn from the realm of the human body; "power" (as of
lightning or flood) would be a word drawn from the "world's
body,' the realm that provides poetry with such basic words for
states of mind as "brain-storm");words for family relationship,
or words like "right" and "justice," would be from the body
politic.

BURKE
KENNETH

339

Any wordsfor the supernatural

will necessarilybe developed
by analogy,from words for the empiricalorders.So, from the
strictstandpointof Poetics,the same modes of embodimentwill
be seen to figure in termsfor the supernatural.Also, there will
be the analogicaluse of wordstakenfrom the verbalrealmitself,
as when Jesusof Nazarethis calledThe Word.
The indeterminateoverlappingof these fields allows for
much interchangeability
among the terms for purgation.Thus,
ideas of political "pollution"might be expressedin terms of
natureor physiology(such as nauseaor plague); or a human
audience's"cure"might be contrivedthroughthe imitationof a
divine person suffering superhuman tortures (for instance,
Prometheus).
People like finalityin a work of art; and death is about as
final an image, or idea, as they can think of (more final than
success,since after any successdeath still awaits them). In this
technicalsense, at least, tragedyis the most "perfect"(that is,
"finished")form. Accordingly,though I favor Meredith'sview
that a wholly civilized world would be a comic one, I believe
that Aristotle was correct in building his Poetics about the
analysisof tragedy.I reconcilethe two positionsby furthercontendingthat the analysisof tragedyis itselfessentiallycomic.For
what could be more comic than considerationof the ways in
which peopleare helpedto "feelgood"throughhavingwept at a
fiction?
But the approachto the questionof Poeticsthroughthoughts
on tragedymight temptus to look for the "sacrificial"
motivein
other literary species, which aim to please by quite different

means. Is Platonic"transcendence,"
for instance,as differenta
kind of mental medicine as Plato apparentlytook it to be?
(Nietzsche agreedwith him, though in a way that Plato would
hiaveconsidereddisagreeable.)In any case, since an approachto
Poeticsin terms of tragedyspontaneouslyinvolves a sacrificial
principle,we must always be ready to modify this stress or

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RESOLUTION

abandonit, if conditionsseem to warrant.

Further,thought of the sacrificialprinciplein tragedycan
misleadcriticismwhen the finalityof death turns the attention
fromsacrificeto kill.Somewherein between,thereis the vexing
concernwith the problemof the scapegoat.I don't see how one

canget aroundthefactthatthe"tragicpleasure"
involvessympatheticmeditationon sufferingsundergoneby personsnot ourselves.That is, it involves"vicarious
sacrifice."
Yet too greata
stressupon the "scapegoat
principle"(as with somebrandsof
currentpsychology)can inclineus to treatthe accidentas the
essence(somewhatlike a childwho mightthinkof a carpenter
as usinga hammernot to drivenailsbutto makea noise).And
we shouldalso alwaysrememberthat the "tragicpleasure,"
as
defined by Aristotle,concernsbut the imitationof suffering,(a

notabledifference
fromthe RomanCircusor the Spanishbullfight,or the motionpicture's
useof documentary
records).
Poeticsas hereconsidered
is partof a schemeinvolvingwhat
I taketo be thefouraspectsof language.BesidesPoeticsthereare:
the universalprinciplesof linguistic
Logic (or "Grammar"),
as hortatory,and
placement;Rhetoric,languageas addressed,
of partisanship;
as designedfor the stimulating
or transcending
Ethics,languageas a mediumin which,willy nilly,writerand
either as inreaderexpresstheir identities,their characters,
dividualsor as membersof classesor groups.The Poeticdimension of languageconcernsessentiallythe exerciseof linguistic
resources
in and for themselves,
by an animalwhichlovessuclh
animal.Butin
exercisebecauseit is the typicallylanguage-using
a terminology,
the courseof "purifying"
poetryalso "purifies"
in suchprocesses.
And problemsof
the self wlich participates
at
aresituatedprecisely thatpointwhereanalysisof
"catlharsis"
languagein termsof Poeticsbothsumsup the fieldof Poetics
inclinesto "spillover"
properandthroughsheersuperabundance
intotheotherareasof linguisticaction.

BURKE
KENNETH

341

AT TIMES,analystsof tragedyhave pointedto an essentialconflict in the relationbetween pity and fear, with tragedybeing
viewedas the resolutionof this antithesis.Pity is said to be like a
movement-towards;and fear (or "terror")like a movement
away-from.Thus, in sympatheticallyfollowing a work that
causesus to feel both pity and fear at once, we are combining
contradictoryimpulses.And we are healed by being enabledto
put oppositestogetherin a way that transcendstheir opposition.
However,if the questionis viewedin less"physicalist"
terms,
this oppositionis not felt in the first place. That is, we find it
quiteconsistentlogicallythatthe fearsomeand the pitiableshould
go together.For how can we pity someoneexcept by thinking
of him in some pitiablesituation?And what situationcan be
more intenselypitiablethan one in which we fear for a person's
happinessor safety? (Particularlyif we add Aristotle'snotion
that the victim for whom we feel such pity and fear is in some
notable respectlike ourselves.)If the underlying"physicalist"
analogyis correct,the thought suggeststhat even our everyday
attitudestowardpity and fear have somehowcome to transcend
an oppositionbetween"bodily"trends.Then tragedymight be
said to appeal, not merely by resolving a physiological conflict

that the logic of our moral categoriesspontaneouslytranscends,

but ratherby also causingus somehowto re-enactthis conflict.
Thus, to be "cured"of a "disease"that we alreadyhave (a "disease"wherebyit seems perfectlyreasonableto us that we can't
feel "pityin the absolute,"but can feel pity only if it is alloyed
by fear), we should first be subjectedto a much heavierattack
of the disease.
From the standpointof Poetics,the primaryembarrassment
when confronting such speculationsinvolves the problem of
"hypotheses."Formally,Poetics deals with poetry, not human
bodies.Yet tearsand laughtercan be almostconvulsivein their
physicality.And when consideringthe questionof Catharsisin
general,shouldwe give no weight at all to the thoughtof a tired

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RESOLUTION

child that cries itself to sleep? On the other hand, whereasit is

said that only human beings laugh (I trust one may rule out
parrotsand hyenas), we might be wrong in assumingthat we
share with animals directlythe ability to cry. Tragic weeping
might be a way of crying peculiaronly to the laughinganimal,
the symbol-usinganimal that, in hystericalfits of laughter,can
"laughtill it cries."
The problemof physicalityin tragedywill plagueus throughout this essay.PerhapsI was terministicallypredestinedto such
in terms of
concernswhen I asked aboutpoetic "embodiment,"
lhumanbody,world'sbody,and body politic.Also, thereare the
body puns implicit in the very idea of Catharsis.Thus, in the
Politics,Aristotlesays that some people are as stronglyaffected
by sacred melodiesas though they had taken a purge in the
purelymedicalsenseof the term.Nor shouldwe forget that our
word "drastic,"which originallymeant a strong laxative,comes
from the sameGreekroot as the word "drama."And as regards
our borrowingsfrom the vocabularyof the world'sbody: If we
are willing to admitthat naturecan, in termsof rainfall,grandly
weep for us (I1 pleuredans mon coeur / Comme il plcut sur la
ville), why by the same token might not nature on occasion
grandlymicturate?
However, the plan here will be to deal directlywith the
sheerPoeticsof the question,and to treatof its relatedphysicality
only when such considerationscan't be avoided. The overall
proposition would be: If man is the symbol-using animal, some
aspects of poetic embodiment must relate more directly to his
specific nature as a symbol-user, others to his generic nature as
an animal.
In a physicalist analogy that treats pity as a "movement
towards" and fear as a "movement away from," each of these
emotions can be treated as essentially simple, and the complexity
is seen to arise from conflicts between these simplicities. But if,
in line with the notion of Greek tragedy as a civic ceremony,

KENNETHBURKE

343

we turn from thoughtsof the human body to thoughts about

the body politic,in sucha calculuspity and fear must be viewed
as complexemotions.Thus, in his introductionto The Trojan
Women,GilbertMurraywrites:
Pity is a rebel passion.Its hand is against the strong, against the
organizedforcesof society,against conventionalsanctionsand accepted
Gods. It is the kingdom of Heaven within us fighting againstthe brute
poNversof the world.

. ..

It brings not peace, but a sword.

And elsewhereMurraytouchesupon anotherkind of complication,when noting with regardto the Furies that a failure
to avengea tribalmurderwould be interpretednot as an act of
charitytowardthe murderer,but as lackof pity for the murderer's
victim.

Perhapsthe gruffestcomplicationof this sort is in Kierkegaard'sFearand Trembling:

The proud and noble nature can endure everything, but one
thing it cannot endure, it cannot endure pity. In that there is implied
an indignity which can only be inflictedupon one by a higher power,
for by oneself one can never become an object of pity. A man has
sinned, so he can bear the punishment for it without despairing; but
without blame to be singled out as a sacrifice to pity, as a sweet-smell-

ing savor in its nostrils, that he cannot put up with.

And a page laterhe writes:

That horrible demon, the most demiioniacal figure Shakespeare
has depicted and depicted incomparably, the Duke of Gloucester
(afterwards to become Richard III)-what made him a demon? Evidently the fact that he could not bear the pity he had been subjected
to since childhood.

In Conrad'sVictory(Section llI, Chapter1) Heyst'sfather,

neardeath,saysto his son:
"You believe in flesh and blood, perhaps' A full and equable
contempt would soon do away with that, too. But since you have not

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RESOLUTION

attained to it, I advise you to cultivate that form of contempt which

is called pity."

Nietzsche'sGenealogyof Moralsprovidesthe very form for

such speculations.To be sure, his interpretationsmust be discounted.He makes a complicatingfactor in moralsseem like
the essenceof morals; his method always penetrates,but his
madnessmakestoo muchof the resultinginsight.His stressupon
the vengeancebeneath"justice,"the malice beneath"love,"the
and manyothersuch "conspiracies"
crueltybeneath"conscience,"
implicit in priestcraft,misrepresentsthe proportionof malign
motiveslurkingin the moralisticrecipeby which men normally
live. But he does clearlyindicatethe complicatingfactorsin these
motivesthat we might otherwisetreatas simple.
Narrowingdown the Nietzscheanperspectivein generalto
the specificquestionof pity,we read,of the "cravingfor cruelty":
It only requires. . . a certain sublimationand subtilization,it must
especiallybe translatedto the imaginativeand psychic plane, and be
adorned with such smug euphemisms,that even the most fastidious
and hypocriticalconsciencecould never grow suspiciousof their real
nature. ("Tragic pity" is one of these euphemisms;another is "les
nostalgies de la croix.")

A bit later, quite to our purposes,since in catharticdramawe

haveto do with a festivity:"Ingreatpunishmentthereis so much
which is festive."And elsewherehe praisessolitude,which may
defend us "at any rate for still a time, against the two worst
plaguesthat could have been reservedfor us-against the great
nauseawith man! againstthe greatpity for man!"
Thinking along such lines, we should note that the word
translatedas "pity" in Aristotle'sdefinition is translatedas
"mercy"in the New Testament,where it designatesthe Lord's
attitude.Thus, insofar as being "pitiful"is being "merciful,"
might one not, in feeling pity, feel "lordly"?If in pity thereis a
modicumof condescension,then in pityingsome "stately"figure

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BURKE

345

the lowly man might be to that extent exalted. Whateverhis

envy of the "great,"and whateverhis self-accusationsat such
envy,in weepingfor the greathe can be at once overtlycharitable
In such a momentwould therenot be a
and covertly"superior."
kind of cleansing?
It has been noted: To say of a figure in Greektragedythat
he prospers,is by the same token to foretellhis doom (a doom
thatwill be so contrivedas to arouseour pity). To be sure,sheerly
formal considerationswould be enough to accountfor such a
turn; the nature of dramaticcontrastcould in itself lead the
dramatistto preparefor a character'stragicfall by first elevating
him. Whatevercomes down must have gone up. Here is an
instance(we shallfind manysuch) wherea purelyformalmotive
intrinsicto the mediumworkswell with a motiverootedin social
relationships.The two strandsseem independentin origin; and
A. C. Bradleyrefersto a mediaevalwork, De CasibusIllustrium
Virorum, the title of which suggests a related ambiguity. For
though it is translated"Concerning the Falls of Illustrious Men,"
from that word for "falls" is derived also our word for "case"in
general. Bradley's comments completely lack the Nietzschean
complication; yet they seem almost to cry out for it:
A total reversalof fortune,coming unawaresupon a man who "stood
in high degree," happy and apparentlysecure,-such was the tragic
fact to the mediaeval mind. . . . It appealed strongly to common
human sympathy and pity; it startled also another feeling, that of
fear. It frightened and awed them. It made them feel that man is
blind and helpless, the plaything of an inscrutablepower, called by
the name of Fortune or some other name,-a power which appearsto
smile on him for a little, and then on a sudden strikes him down in
his pride.

A more simply vindictive form is Socrates' discussion of

punishment, near the end of the Gorgias. The "stately"motive
here is obvious, in his account of relevant traditions:

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RESOLUTION

Of these fearful examples,most, as I believe, are taken from the class

of tyrantsand kings and potentatesand public men, for they are the
authorsof the greatestand most imperiouscrimes, becausethey have
the power. And Homer witnesses to the truth of this; for they are
always kings and potentateswhom he has describedas sufferingeverlasting punishment in the world below: such were Tantalus and
Sisyphus and Tityus. But no one ever described Thersites, or any
privateperson who was a villain, as sufferingeverlastingpunishment,
or as incurable.For to commit the worst crimes, as I am inclined to
think, was not in his power, and he was happierthan those who had
the power.

As for the possiblycomplex nature of tragic fear, in his

NichomachaeanEthicsAristotlehas some observationsmuch to
our purpose:"To fear some things is even right and noble,and
it is base not to fear them."The man who does not fear "disgrace,"for instance,is "shameless,"a considerationthat later
formed the basisof the theory proclaimingthe social utility of
comedy (castigatridendomores). It seems there are proprieties
of fear,and one could attestto one'sessentialnobilityby observing them, as with the man "whofearsthe right thingsand from
the right motive,in the right way and at the right time."What
then, if a dramatistcreatesconditionswhereinone is not merely
permittedto fear, but is actually proved worthy by fearing?
Whereasone muststruggleagainstfear,herewouldbe a modeof
symbolicaction ("imitation")wherein one's surrenderto fear
would havea socialsanction,even a socialincentive.
The discussionof fearin the NichomachaeanEthicssuggests
another kind of complication:Fear also calls up thoughts of
bravery,courage;hence the topic leads to relatedobservations:
"bravein the face of a nobledeath"(notablywar) . . . enduring
death "becauseit is noble". . . for courage"enduresthings becauseit is nobleto do so, or becauseit is basenot to do so."Thus,
at the veryleast,to be with fearis by the sametokento be in the
vicinityof death,and sincedeath is a mode of dignification,the

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347

whole cluster of thoughts surroundingfear, bravery,courage,

and death allows us to share in the gratificationsof tragic
solemnity.
There is a Latin proverbquite to our purposes:Veretur
liber, metuitservus.To bring out the point of excess,we might
translate:"The free man experiencesawe; the slave merelygets
scared."And in the prefaceto his tragedyof Alexanderthe Great,
Racine quotes Seneca'ssaying that nothing so calls forth our
admirationas "a man bravelywretched"(homo fortitermiser).
The "nobility"which the NichomachaeanEthicsdiscernsin
the imaginativelyfearful confrontingof dangers expands into
other realmsbesidesbraveryand courage."Bravemen act for
honor'ssake, but passionaids them";and human acts are truly
courageous"if choiceand motivebe added."Fear also obviously
lends itself well to the asseveratingof "justice"(hence can provide releasesecondarilythrough associationwith the pomp of
political authorityand awesomenessof fate, while its natural
and edificationwe
affinitywith pity re-enforcesthe expansiveness
have alreadyobservedin the magnanimityof pity).
Pity and fear, as thus surroundedby the paraphernaliaof
solemnity, engage also the motive of "wonder,"particularly
when the playwrightinterweaveshis plot with connotationsof
fatal persecution("higher justice").And we may recall Aristotle's observationthat accidentsmay be made meaningful by
being given the appearanceof design, so that "even mattersof
chanceseemmost marvelous."
Also, lurkingaboutthe edges of our consciousnesswhen we
confront situationsthat arouse pity and fear, may be a halfrecognized,vaguelyshamefacedsuggestionof reliefat the thought
that the same calamityhas not befallenus. But this would be a
less "civic"or "stately"responsethan the complicationswe have
been consideringhere generally.

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RESOLUTION

THE DEFINITION in the Poetics specifically mentions only

pity and fear, leaving the reader free to decide what is meant by
"other such emotions." Traditional writings on tragedy clearly
indicate what the third motive should be, though there is no
good name for it. (A word often used is "resignation.")Tragedy
might even be defined as the perennial attempt to clarify this
motive, which must be named differently for each play in which
it figures. Thus, our complicatedly simple response to Oedipus
Rex would be called "oedipism," our response to Antigone
"antigonism,"and so on.
I refer, of course, to the motive that, as viewed from the other
side (in terms of the imaginary person whose characterand fate
elicit a "medean," "promethean," "suppliant," "bacchanalian,"
etc., response in the audience, as the case may be) is quite often
called "pride" by the Greek playwrights, but is discussed more
generally in the Poetics as hamartia, the "tragic flaw" or "error
of judgment" or simply "error"that starts the tragic hero on his
downfall.'
The tragic flaw probably arose as a sophisticated variant of
such story-tellers'devices as the heel of Achilles (the principle
of the crack in the armor of a hero otherwise invincible). But
note that, as developed in the tragedies, this motive (which has
no clear, adequate name when applied to its corresponding
principle in the audience) also reveals a complication (to match
the tangle we have noted in pity and fear). The audience derives
great satisfaction, and even edification, from seeing pride fatally
persecuted on the stage; yet, for evidence that this motive is as
true of the audience as of the victim in the play, we need but
recall that, when viewed from the standpoint of comedy or satyr
When discussing the Ridiculous, Aristotle uses a related word, hamartema, to
I.
designate the blunder or deformity that performs the corresponding function in the
plots of comedy. In the New Testament, both words are given the meaning of "sin,"
hamartia referring to the active principle of sinning, and hamarrema to the result of
the action.

KENNETHBURKE

349

play, the very style of tragedy,its flatteringcult of dignification,

is a kind of pride-and the name for Corneille's"theatreof
admiration"comescloseto callingit so. (With regardto comedy
in turn, we might recall that in his RhetoricAristotlerefersto
wit as "educatedhubris.")
Sincemisfortunemovesus mostto pity when it is undeserved,
and sincewe aremost movedto fearwhen the suffereris in some
notableway like ourselves,the tragic hamartiais a remarkably
efficientway of engaging an audience.By giving an otherwise
admirablepersona mereflaw in character,the playwrightavoids
the extremesof makinghim eithertoo bad (for our pity) or too
good (for our abilityto identifyourselveswith him); but at the
same time he endows the characterwith a motive wherebythe
disasterwould to some degreebe the logical result of the character'sown decisions.
From the standpointof possible"civic"motivesin catharsis
as contrivedby the Athenianplaywrights,recall also that John
Henry Freesein the Loeb edition of the Rhetoricobserves:"In
Attic law hubris (insulting,degradingtreatment). . . was the
subjectof a State criminal prosecution.. . . The penalty was
assessedin court,and might even be death."And here is a typical
passage (II, ii) illustrating the social connotations of hubris (in
this context, "insult"):
He who insults another also slights him; for insult consists in
causing injury or annoyancewhereby the suffereris disgraced,not to
obtain any other advantagefor oneself besidesthe performanceof the
act, but for one's own pleasure;for retaliationis not insult, but punishment. . . . The cause of the pleasurefelt by those who insult is the
idea that, in ill-treatingothers,they are more fully showing superiority.
That is why the young and the wealthy are given to insults. For they
think that in committingthem, they are showing their superiority.. ..
Dishonor is characteristicof insult; and one who dishonors another
slights him; for that which is worthlesshas no value, either as good
or evil.

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RESOLUTION

Also, the inferiorcan insultthe superior,by not showingthe

degreeof respectto which the superiorconsidershimselfentitled.
Such superiority,Aristotlesays,may be in termsof birth,power,
virtue,wealth,eloquence,authority,or in whateverotherrespect
one man considershimselfsuperiorto another.Hence,the matter
of insult leads into the matter of anger, since men are angry
when insulted.And he cites from the Iliad on the wrath of
kings, "for kings are resentfulin considerationof their superior
rank."
Conversely,as insultmakesmen angry,so therearethe ways
to makemen mild-whereupon we havea sectionon the waysof
mildness.Here all has to do with humility,respect,repentance,
submissiveness,
supplication,and the like. Aeschylus'Suppliants
could be read as the perfectdramaticequivalentof this section;
the fugitivemaidensare carefulto observethe mimeticsof mollification,and areexplicitlyso schooledby theirfather(later,when
stronger,they wvillbecomeassassinsof theirsuitors.)2
Therearerelatedobservations
in the sectionon "indignation"
(Rhetoric,II, ix). We feel indignant,Aristotlesays,at the sight
of good fortune apparentlyundeserved,resenting particularly
the advantagesof the newly rich. The word for such "indignation" is nemesan,the verb form of Nemesis, a word that later
idealisticcriticism has endowed with exclusivelysupernatural
connotations,therebyconcealingits realistic,even materialistic
relevance to an explicitly civic motive. Note also that resentment

at undeservedgood fortuneis the obverseof pity at undeserved

2.
Thus "suppliantism," considered as an audience's variant of hubris, might be
defined as a complexity whereby one may in ineekness appeal for asylum but may
later, when firmly ensconced, become intolerant of the very persons who had granted
his meek petitions. Aristotle's word for the way to make men mild is etymologically
the same as the New Testament word for "meek" in the Beatitude, "Blessed are the
meek, for they shall inherit the earth." But note how, in that brief paradigm of plot
(implying a notable turn of fortune) the development is traced with evangelical simplicity, without the entanglement of either pre-ChristianGreek tragedy or post-Christian
Nietzscheanism.

KENNETH
BURKE

351

misfortune-whereupon two further considerations suggest

themselves:
First, we can conceiveof plots wherebya personwho was
resentedas "superior"could be seen in a light whereby,instead,
he was pitiedfor his sufferings.Second,we can understandwhy,
in a play such as Sophocles'Antigone,the misfortunesthat beset
Creon occur after he has retractedhis iniquitousdecree. Had
Creonnot relented,we shouldhave felt pity only for Antigone;
but the playwrightwantedus to pity bothsidesin the controversy.
I shall return to this point later, when further considerations
call for a contrastbetweenthis play and the Antigoneof Anouilh,
producedduringthe Nazi occupationof France.
A typical play to illustrate my present "civic" emphasis is

Euripides'TrojanWomen.It was producedseveralmonthsafter

the Athenians'disgracefuldestructionof Melos,an act that split
Athens in two, since the War Party had prevaileddespite the
protestsof a strong and conscientiousPeace Party (which included Euripides).As I analysethe play, its nominal concern
with the destructionof Troy helps the audience"transcend"
the
immediatecivic issue; yet an allusiveelement was there, in the
background;no one could fail to think of Melos,and such implications gave the play its full civic poignancy, as a production

"timely"to that particularyear. Yet, in ostensiblyconsidering

not the destructionof Melos but broodingratheron what we
might call "destructionin the absolute,"the traditionalword for
which, in the terminologyof Greekmyth, was the fall of Troy,
Euripides'allusionscould both be there and be discreetlyveiled.
However harrowingthe play might have been, the translation
of its possiblelocal allusioninto terms of myth was in effect a
euphemism.Thanks to it, the entire audience,be they members
of eitherthe PeacePartyor the War Party,couldjoin in weeping
together.And would not that movement,at leastfor the duration
of the dramaticexperience,be indeed a purging of the whole
discordantcity?

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Our subjecthere could readilygo in three directions.First,

there is the problem of "allusion."The apparent"universal"
nature of the myths used in Greek tragedy can conceal their
specialrelevanceto some particularoccasion.A "timeless"myth
can be made allusivemerelyby being selectedat one particular
time ratherthananother.In accordancewith the Spanishproverb,
"Nevermentionrope in the house of a man who was hanged,"
we mayassumethatif, a few monthsafterthe disgracefuldestruction of Melos, Euripidesproducesa play about the destruction
of Troy, he is not unawareof its possibleallusiveness.And there
is a furtherkind of allusionin Greektragedy:sinceits vocabulary
is saturatedwith tracesof its beginningsin the Dionysianrites,
we shouldby no meansbe committingthe "fallacyof origins"in
recognizing such connotations,any more than one would be
guilty of this fallacy in noting what connotationsthe word
"crucify"might have for a Christian,even if used in a secular
play that had nothingto do with Christ'sPassion.
Second, there is the light that the practicesof ostracism
throwon the natureof catharsisby tragicimitationof victimage.
Ostracismwas an attemptto resolvein one way the sameproblem
of civic "pollution"which the plays were designed to treat in
anotherway. Ostracism,we might say, attemptedto solve the
problemof "hubris"by amputatingfrom the body politicwhatever memberseemedswollen to the point of becominga threat
to the public welfare. But tragedy,in a more "homoeopathic"
fashion,soughtto providea remedyfor the pollutionby aggravation of the symptomsunder controlledconditionsdesigned to
forestallworse ravagesof the disease.Specifically,the tragedies
wouldpurgethe Stateby enablingthe citizensto feel pity whereas
otherwisethey might have felt resentment.True, insofaras the
underlying situation itself remained disordered,such purely
symbolicmodesof cleansingcould not be permanentlyeffective.
But the purgescould be periodicallyrepeated,undernew forms,
eachwith its particular"allusiveness."
In Plutarchthereare many

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referencesto ostracismwhich give good groundsfor thinking of

it as anotherresponseto the Greekconcernwith hubris,and thus
to look upon tragiccatharsisas an alternative"solution."
I have in mind such passagesas Plutarch'sreferenceto the
Athenians'banishingof Themistocles,"makinguse of the ostracism to humble his eminence and authorityas they ordinarily
did with all whom they thoughttoo powerful,or, by their greatness, disproportionateto the equality thought requisite in a
popular government.For the ostracismwas instituted,not so
much to punish the offender, as to mitigate and pacify the
violenceof the envious,who delightedto humbleeminent men,
and who, by fixing the disgraceupon them, might vent some
part of their rancor."Or: "As for the ostracism,every one was
liableto it, whom his reputation,birth,or eloquenceraisedabove
the common level. . . . For ostracismwas not the punishment
of any criminalact, but was speciouslysaid to be the mere depressionand humiliationof excessivegreatnessand power; and
was in facta gentlereliefand mitigationof enviousfeeling,which
was thus allowedto vent itself in inflictingno intolerableinjury,
only a ten years'banishment."Such passages(and I could quote
many more) indicatehow the "normal"social barriersbetween
classescould make for a kind of "categorical"or "built-ininsolence";thus there would be strong catharticvalue in dramaturgical devices that brought this motive into clear expression
though in ways that, at the same time, served to neutralize its

ravages.
Third, with the thought of eighteenthousandpeople being
purgedby weeping in unison,we again come upon the question
of "physicality."It is not inconceivable,for instance,that the
dramatic effect of a situation in which many people are similarly

movedwould be greaterif they were assembledin one gathering

than if they were isolatedfrom one another (if, say, they sat
before eighteen thousand widely separatedtelevision screens,
respondingto the sameplay ratheras "individuals"
than as parts

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354

of a single vibrantbody). I have in mind a responsesomewhat

physicallyanalogousto the uniformthrobof insectson a warm
night in earlyautumn.For we might expectthat the most complete conditionof catharticonenessexperiencedby the symbolas well as "symbolicity."
using animalwould involve"animality"
But in any case, there is the undeniablephysicalityof the tears
themselves.
and the
"kinaesthesis,"
AESTHETICTHEORIESof "empathy,"
like haveindicatedhow the bodymight figurein the terminology
has got us used to acceptof poeticresponse.And psychoanalysis
ing the possibilitythat the sex organs might sometimesbe the
homely home of beauty.But what of the body-punlurking in
the very idea of poetry as a "purge"?

In the introductionto the Loeb translationof the Poetics,

when contrastingAristotle'stheoryof tragicpurgationwith the
views of Plato,the editorwrites:
The soul, like the body,needsan occasionalpurge.Pent-upenmotion
is apt to explode inconveniently.What the citizens need is an outlet

such as dramaticpoetryconvenientlysupplies.We must renmember

thatthe Atheniancouldnot go to the theatereveryday.That would
be emotionaldysentery.He took his purge regularlytwice a year.

The samesuggestionsemergeif you trackdown the implications of the Freudiananalysis.Recall Freud'sthoughtson the
"cloacal"ambiguity(wherebygenital,fecal,and diureticimaginings becomeconfused), and you necessarilyask about the two
in that "DemonicTrinity"(which, in my Gramotlher"persons"
mnarof Motives,I have treatedas a solemn parodyof the Holy
Trinity).
of laxatives,diuretics,aphroBesidesthe psychiccounterparts
and
disiacs,antaplhrodisiacs, anodynesor anaesthetics,shouldnot
the language of poerty also somehow have its equivalentsof
emetics, sudorifics,astringents,expectorants,and sternutatories

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(with perhapsa specialset for women: emmenagogues,arbortifacients,oxytocics,lactifugesand galactagogues)? Imagerythat

somehowstood for flatus would belong here; and there would
be the analogueof crepitusventris,for which eructationwould
be a kind of euphemism. ("Respectable"translationsof Aristophanessubstituteterms for eructationin passageswhere the
originalvocabularywas franklyfecal, in accordancewith modes
properto comic catharsis.)Coughing, sneezing, expectoration,
evenquickexpulsionof the breath,might be classedas attenuated
variantsof a cleansingoperation;and the same would apply to
any words that stood for them. Thus, personssometimessneeze
at a remarkthey resent;or thereis the cough of embarrassment,
or a mere clearingr
of the throat,as a sign of disapproval.Fainting, and its milder form, dizziness,are doubtlesson the outer
edges of such responses(and might be secondarilyindicatedin
the imageryof height, or speed)-though they might also, like
horripilation,chills,fever,andcatalepticseizures,be classedrather
as acute evidencethat catharsisis needed.Hence they might be
Ipre-cathartic," if part of a process in which catharsis is con-

summated.(Consider,for instance,Dante'sfaintingin the circle

of Hell wlherehe encountersthe dizzinessof wind-drivenPaolo
and Francesca.It is "pre-cathartic"
in the sense that it is on the
roadto Purgatory,by definitionthe placeof catharsis.)
Pleasenote that in pursuingsucha line of thoughtwe should
not be derivingtragiccatharsisfrom bodilyprocesses.Our theory
would be turnedin exactlythe oppositedirection.We shouldbe
saying simply that, when catharsisattains its full poetic statement
(as it must if it is to be thorough),its terminologymay also be

expectedto re-enactsome or other of these bodily analogues.

That is: If the poetradically"givesbody"to the ideaof cleansing,
besidessuch devicesas cleansingby sacrifice,cleansingby the
mimeticsof the bath, and cleansingby associationwith things
deemedrituallyclean,thereshouldbe the equivalentsof sheerly
animal release(such "cleansing"as the body experienceswhen

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unburdeningitself of its natural secretions,be they sexual or

otherwise).
In Westernculture,at least, the "DemonicTrinity"would
enjoy specialprestigeamong this "problematical"
list becauseof
its particularassociationwith ideasof privacy,propriety,and guilt
(as with expressionslike pudendaand partieshonteuses),though
in the last analysisall such expressioncould be treatedas but
a "translation of the idea of the moralistic negative (the thou-

shalt-not)into termsof body-imagery."

The associationbetween
"sphincter-training"
in childhoodand ideas of social controlin
generalwouldaccountfor the specialprioritygiven to thesethree
"cloacally"interconnectedfunctionsas primarysourcesof "cathartic" imagery.
As regards Pity, Fear, and Pride, the "trinitarian"relation
among the three personsof the Demonic Trinity prevents us from
any strict matching. But pity is genetic, in the sense that it is
"on the slope" of love. Pity is "towards"love (a point we shall revert to later). In its simplicity it is benevolent, philanthropic,
humanitarian. Also, as regards sexual tabus, pity has in itself a
cathartic element, inasmuch as it can be in the erotic category
without requiring full erotic consummation.
Though anything can be an object of pride, pride in its
simplicity would be excremental. It involves the gesture of disdain, "turning one's back." Freud cites a similar expression in
German: einem die Kehrseite zeigen. "Proper" to it would be
the dropping of dung upon an inferior, or an inferior's fighting
back with dung. Related vindictive proverb: "The higher an ape
climbs, the more he shows his tail." Insofar as pride incites to
anger and vengeance (also "excremental")it may provoke a kind
of counter-pride (a motive which, as we have seen, would not be
finally cathartic unless modified by other motives). Pride involves problems of power; and Freud has well shown that the
flaunting of power is filthy.
With less certainty, but per eliminationem, I would equate

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fear with diuresis. My corroborating text would be a line from

an early poem of Coleridge that refers to "Urine, the soft-flowing
Daughter of Fright." (Shedd edition, VII, 33) Yet, as regards
"sphincter-training"(and I do wonder what all we dare read
into the etymologists' likelihood that "sphincter" and "Sphinx"
come from the same root!), note how quickly the poem recovers.
The formula was in the last line of a stanza which is immediately
followed by a stanza beginning, "But rein your stallion in, too
daring Nine!" The principle of control is thus promptly reaffirmed.
With regard to the notion that the Demonic Trinity can be
treated as a parody of the Holy Trinity: Clearly, there is no
difficulty in equating Pride (equals faeces) with Power, and
equating Pity (equals genitals) with Love. Fear (diuresis) could
be equated with Wisdom only by a more circuitous route, via
the notion that Wisdom is cautious, and caution is fear guided

by discipline.
But we need not establish such dismally perfect symmetry.
The main point, for present purposes,is to suggest ways whereby,
from the standpoint of "body-thinking,"many poetic references
to the body politic and the world's body could be viewed as
"aesthetically"transmogrified surrogatesof absurdly unassuming
analogues. Though micturition, for instance, is not heroic, its
analogue would be if, instead of a body image, the poet used the
image of a torrent, tumultuously cascading downwards.
I argue here only for the theory "in principle." The theory
could be right, yet every example one adduced to substantiateit
could be wrong. The problem is aggravated by the fact that,
even if we hypothetically grant my thesis, any analysis of poetry
along such lines is somewhat self-defeating. For in most cases
the "poetic" effect could best be obtained by leaving implicit
the very correspondenceswhich critical analysis must make explicit. Consider, for instance, these awe-stricken lines in "The
Ancient Mariner":"Like waters shot from some high crag, / The

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lightning fell with never a jag,/ A river steep and wide."Even

if one hypotheticallygrantedthat in effect they trackdown the
idea of fear "bodily"to the point where naturemicturates,the
catharsispoeticallywouldrequire(as the catharsisof Aristophanic
comedy would not) that such implicationsbe left unnoticed,
unless readerswere willing to acceptnorms of poetic "naturalness"not now deemedsalonfaihig.
Similarly,considerthe "Pig and Pepper"chapterof Alice in
Wonderland.Here, by the subterfugesof nonsenseand fantasy,
catharticdevicesaremadepossiblewherebya disciplinarypunishinto the
ment for crepitusventriscan be humorouslytranisformed
words of the Duchess' song: "Speak roughly to your little
boy,/ And beat him when he sneezes."And as for the grunting
which beganwhen the child "hadleft off sneezing,"and which
led prim Alice to say, "That'snot at all a properway of expresshere (the gruntas purgative)
ing yourself":The double-entendre
of
is concealedby the pudency the plot itself, as the grunting
child becomesa grunting pig (or, more exactly, what was at
first taken for a gruntingchild turnsout to be a pig-a fanciful
way of saying that such a grunt is piggish). The entirekitchen
scene,I takeit, is builtaboutthe reversalof analand oralmotives,
as (in Through the Looking Glass) the theme of eating from
dirty plates.And the pot into which the "cook"puts too muclh
sternutatory"pepper"belongs not in the kitclhenbut in the
nursery.
But "proof"for a thesisof this sortmustbe mainlyinductive,
and thus requiresmuclhmore sustainedpresentationof evidence
than I have room for here. For the presentI need but indicate
the generaltrendof such speculations,which are not out of line
with orthodoxFreudiantheory,once the readeracceptsthe shift
of emphasisrequiredfor our purposes.For our purposes,the
imagery of bodily catharsisis viewed not as "causative,"but
simply as a language that is naturally available to poets who

would "give body" to ideas of purgation.And we assumethat

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"naturepoetry"can reflectsuch homely processes"beautifully"

by "meteorologizing"human physiology, thereby detailing
'"grandly"kinds of developmentwhich would otherwiseseem
but "medical"or "clinical"(exceptwhen viewed in the spiritof
comiccatharsis,which might find them funny).
In sum, the two main terministicpossibilitieswe have been
consideringare:
(i)

The purging of "pollutions" in the body politic can

be expresseddirectly or indirectlyby the imagery of bodily

purgation;
"grandly"by imagery
(2) Bodilypurgationcan be expressed
drawnfrom analogousor relatedprocessesin the "world'sbody"
of human
("naturepoetry"that proceedsby the "meteorologizing
physiology").
BUT WHAT OF the "genetic"motive (in either its erotic or
"agapetic"aspects)? Whereasreligion so often lays great stress
does the same
upon the curativerole of love (and psychoanalysis
regardingsex), why doesthe Poeticsfail to treatof sucha motive,
specificallymentioningonly the curativeeffectof pity and fear?
the likely
In line with speculationsabout "body-thinking,"
answerto thatquestionwouldbe this:Fearpreparesfor pity. And
pity is a surrogatefor love.
To be healeddramatically,thoroughly,radicallyby universal
love, one should have to love all mankind not merely with an
attitudevaguely philanthropic,but effusively,even profusively.
An idealistic,humanitarianbenevolencewould not be a sufficiently "drastic"emotion; in fact, it would be hardly better than a

much wateredsentiment.On the otherhand,one can readilyfeel

pity for peoplewhom one knows only by hearsay,if one learns
that they are sufferingundersome dreadfulmisfortune.
Similarly,though the injunctionto love one's enemiesis far
too exactingfor ordinarymortals,we can feel pity even for our
worst enemy,if we but imaginehim sufferingunder still worse

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afflictionsthan, at the height of our vindictiveness,we might

wish upon him. For to this extent, his sufferingwould seem
and thus pitiable.
"undeserved,"
Aristotlealso remarksthat anger drives out fear. Thus, if
situationsare presentedin a way which, while causingfear,also
contrivesto avoid the provokingof "moralindignation,"such
appealto our pity is negatively"on the slope"of love, through
neutralizingits opposite,hate.
There is the furtherfact that weeping is an end-product,a
culminationin sheerlyphysicalrelease.In this respectit would
be analogousto the orgasticreleasein which the erotic motive
naturally culminates, but the expression of which is so greatly

restrictedby our customs. (Such restrictionseven come secondarily to affect our expression of pity, in proportion as the

too frank acknowledgementof any affectionbecomesfrowned

upon-whereat laughterservesas the surrogatenext in line.)
We began with considerationsof catharsisand the body
politic.Next, we shiftedto thoughtson the waysin whichsocially
engenderedideas of pollution (guilt, fear, resentment)might
involve analogousimageryfrom the realmsof the humanbody
and the world'sbody. These considerationsin turn broughtus
to considera more "universal"problem,involving the relation
betweenthe "individual"and "mankindin general."The situation, as viewedfrom this angle,would be in sum as follows:
Perfectcatharsiswould arisefrom a sense of universallove.
Insofaras such a conditionis not attained,the next bestthing is a
senseof radicalpity that lies on the slope of tearfulrelease.Fear
is not directlycathartic;but it is catharticindirectly,insofaras it
sets up the conditionsfor the feeling of pity. Wonder (the tragic
appealto the "marvelous")is catharticin that, whereasit is in
the same spectrumwith fear, it is on the otherend of the series,
being itself a kind of "cleansedfear,"like reverence.It in turn
is aidedby variousdevicessuchas heroicdiction,that give magnitude to the action. Insofaras pity is employed to arouse our

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moral indignation,it is not wholly cathartic;but it may be

employedsecondarilyto this end if the non-vindictiveuse of pity
is primary. (Similarly, "derisive"laughter lacks the wholly
catharticfunctionof "sympathetic"
laughter,which comes close
to pity. In Don Quixote the derisivebecomestransformedinto
the sympatheticas the story proceeds.)
This view would allow for a "charitable"
interpretationof
dramaticcatharsisby victimage.That is, it would explain how
such a principlecould arise outside the motive usually stressed
by psychoanalysts:the "projection"of one's own ills upon a
scapegoat(though there is good reasonto grant that, once the
principleof the pitiableas surrogatefor the lovableis established,
it inclinesto be transformedin some measurefor ends overtly
or covertlyvindictive).
Four kinds of victim are ideally distinguishable,though in
practicethey variouslyoverlap:(i) There is the victim chosen
becausehe is most blameless(the Christ-principle
of victimage);
(2) the victim chosenbecausemost blamable(the villainy principle); (3) the victim as the result of a tragicflaw; (4) supernumeraryvictims, "expendable"for the good of the plot as a
whole. Othellohas all threemajorkinds: Desdemonablameless,
lago villainous,Othellothe noblevictimof an errorin judgment.
Examplesof the fourth kind would be the namelesssoldiersin
Coriolanuswho get killed as the resultof the playwright'sneed
to let the audiencesee the warriorin action.The most troublesome supernumerary
victims,in moderneyes, are the members
of Job'sfamily, who are sacrificedincidentallyto Job's trials.
Surroundingall four kinds is the principleof mortificationin
general (involving all the proprietiesthat go with ideas of selfcontrol).
The principleof the "flaw"receivesa notabletransformation
in Anouilh'sAntigone.At the time when the play was first produced, the "universal"myth containedallusivereferencesto the
Germanarmyof occupationin France.The "Creon"of this play

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didnot retracthis harshdecreeagainstAntigone;and thus,when

the seriesof misfortunesbegan to befall him, he did not arouse
our pity. Indeed,he was so steel-likein the performanceof what
he took to be his duty, at the informationthat his son and wife
had killed themselveshe did not even relax into self-pity.As a
result,the audiencebecomesfrozen, in a responseas far as possiblefrom the warmthof tears.Thus, for a politicallyindifferent
audiencein the United Statesnow, the play would seem to have
no catharticeffectwhatsoever.But one can well imaginea paradox of this sort at the time of its production:One can imaginea
French audiencewhich, in feeling steel-liketogether,enjoyed
a kind of restrictedcommunion, a vaguely "conspiratorial"
variant, on the slope of partisan "love." (Tragedy can also be-

come partisanby not going beyondsuch pity as arousesmoral

indignation.For instance,had Sophocles'Creon not retracted,
the audiencewould have felt pity only for Antigone, and that
pity would have made them gloat vindictivelyat Creon's"well
deserved"misfortunes.)
OTHER CONSIDERATIONS
Aristophanic comedy was essentially cathartic in that its plots

were designedto culminatein secularizedvariantsof the "sacred

marriage"and the "lovefeast."In its very essenceit was devoted
to peace (and thus, as seen from its point of view, tragedywas a
cult of war). But just as pity may lead to moral indignation
(which I would think but a "fragment"of tragiccatharsis),so
laughtermay be not only friendly but derisive.And I would
not considerderisionas wholly cathartic,except insofar as we
need our partisanalignments,too, and are sociallyunited by the
particularbuttof humorat whoseexpensewe jointlylaugh.
The overlappingrelationshipbetweendramaticcatharsisand
dialecticaltranscendencewould requirean essayat least as long
as this. Keats's"Odeon a GrecianUrn" is an ideal exampleof
such dialecticadaptedto the lyric (and I have so analysedit in

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my Grammarof Motives).JamesJoyce's"The Dead"is an ideal

exampleof such dialecticadaptedto the short story (and I so
analysedit in TheKenyonReview,Spring1951). A few further
wordson the shortstoryform in generalmight serveas transition
to a final point that must be consideredsomewhat.
The shortstory,we might say, tracksdown the implications
of a terminologyto a point where some notablelatent motive
becomespatent. Simplestexample: the surprisestory. Looking
back,one sees how the surprisehad been ambiguouslyprepared
for. Yet it was "implicitlythere"from the start,and on occasions
alongthe routethe readerencounteredevidencesof its emergence,
withoutbeingquite awareof theirtenorat the time. Morehighly
developedexamplesof the same form lead to a final disclosure
that, besidesbeing implicitin the previousdevelopments,serves
to cap or consolidatethe story by letting us see the previous
situationin a new light.
Joyce'sstory,"The Dead,"is a "Symbolist"variant,tracinga
progressionfrom "sensory"
image to "mythic"image.The snow,
which originallyseemed wholly realisticin its connotations,is
ultimately shown to have symbolized a further motivational
dimension.It is shown to standfor morethan "justsnow."Such
storiesstopat the momentwherethe new motiveemerges.Sucha
"break-through"
is like a crossingto anothershore (we might
adopt as motto for this structurethe Virgilian formula, ripae
ulteriorisamore)-and if the implicationsof the new dimension
weredevelopedfurther,the unityof the storywould be destroyed.
Such stories thus stop "enigmatically"at the point where the
unveiling of the new dimension (the "epiphany")takes place.
The second part of Goethe'sFaust is a "break-through"
into a
revelationof the "ulterior"motives"presupposed"
in the seduction that is the theme of Part One. It goes beyondthe romantic
courtship,to disclosethe mythic images (with their corresponding ideas) implicitin all "courtly"relations.
The concernwitlh"implications"involvesanotherdirection

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in which one might pursuethe questionof catharsis.Insofaras

one couldsaythata workitselfundergoesa kind of "purification"
(since, in its processof unfolding,its vague initial potentialities
becomesuccessivelyactualized),criticshave noted a "purgation"
in this purely formalisticsense, without necessaryreferenceto
pity and fear. Indeed,in this senseeven a propositionin Euclid
could be said to undergoa purge.
Perhaps"purgation"of this sort is best groundedin Croce's
And unquescalculus,which equatescatharsiswith "expression."
tionablythe symbol-usinganimal experiencesa certainkind of
"relief"in the mere act of convertingany inarticulatemuddle
into the orderlyterms of a symbol-system.(There would be at
least threemajorcriticalpointsin such a process:The poet is in
materiality"when he hits
one way "cleansed"of his "extra-poetic
upon his theme and startsto trackdown its implications;he is
"cleansed"in anotherway when he becomesso deeply involved
in his symbol-system
thatin effectit takesover,and a new quality
or orderof motivesemergesfrom it; and he is cleansedin still
anotherway when, the goal having been reached,fulfillmentis
complete.Correspondingstages may be ascribedto the reader,
or to the work itself,as with the differentqualitiesof beginning,
peripety,and end, analysedwithout referenceto either reader
or writer.)
The "cathartic"relation between articulateform and the
inarticulatematterout of which suchexpressionemergesI would
call "labyrinthine,"
a pre-conditionof the "Daedalian"motive.
It involvesa maze in two senses:for not only is the inarticulate
a tangle (at least, as viewed from the standpointof the articulate);

but also articulationitself is a tangle, since any symbol-system

sets up an indeterminaterange of "implications"still to be
explored.
A perfectexampleof such potentialityis to be seen in the
history of Christiandoctrine,viewed from the standpointof
catharsis.The New Testamentgives evidencethat, in the early

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evangelical stages of the faith, mass conversions (with their

"Revivalist"kind of cure) required but two simple steps: The
purgand pronounced his firm belief in the cathartic role of the
Savior; and he followed this avowal by taking a similarly cathartic ritual bath through which he was reborn into a new identity.
But implicit in these two moments was a vast network of presuppositions. And the Pauline Epistles are the product of a mind
which, while discerning the labyrinthine intricacies of the terministic structure implicit in the central idea of Christ as a
sacrificial Mediator between two realms, was also remarkably
expert in the art of tracing such implications.
The crowning feature of his method was the skill with which
he applied the rhetoricalfigure of gradatio. Consider,for instance,
this statement: "Whom he did predestinate,them he also called:
and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he
justified, them he also glorified." From the standpoint of sheer
terministic implications, Paul is here saying in effect: "The ideas
of pre-destination, vocation, justification, and glorification mutually imply one another."But in his version, this cyclical relation
among a set of key terms becomes a dramatic, ladderlike process,
each step vibrant with the "futurity" of the next. For though
they mutually imply one another in a timeless relationship, they
are "future" to one another in the sense that the thinker can
proceed from any one to the next, successivelyfinding how each,
in turn, is implicit in its fellows (until the whole mighty tangle
of Western theological controversy had been unfolded, plus its
subsequent secularizationsin post-Christianscience).
But note this paradox: The "futurity" of an implicational
network that is still to be made explicit is in one sense a cause
of great unrest, or "vigilance,"even if the implicational structure
is built about the cathartic promise of an ultimate eternal rest.
In the case of religion, the situation is further complicated by
the fact that religion aims to be not solely cathartic, but also
regulatory (an instrument of social control, a way of giving

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RESOLUTION

sanctionto the sheerlytemporalneedsof law and order,to that

end promotingsuch attitudesas induceus, by modesof "mortification," to police ourselves voluntarily). When developed along

those lines, implicationsbecomecomplicatedto the point where

the emancipatory,the catharsisof "release,"must not only arise
out of the regulatory,it must also be so shaped that the very
modes of emancipationsomehow help re-establishthe regulationsfor which they are the "cure."Thus tragedy,as a somewhat
secularway of respondingto such intricacy,also may serve to
reimposethe veryburdensit would remove.And perhapsthat is
why, in the Greek festivals,each tragic trilogy was regularly
followed by a satyr-playwhich burlesquedthe modes of tragic
dignification,as though to say that that solemnway of cleansing
must itself in turn be cleansedby a revoltagainstthe very principle of solemnity(though we shouldnot forget that this revolt,
in turn,was in its way controlled).
My referenceto Paul's use of the gradatiobrings up this
furtherpossibility,in connectionwith the ingredientof "catharsis"in sheer expressionas such: insofar as a cycle of terms
mutuallyimplyingone anotheris tithout direction,thereshould
be a "curative"value in the sheer irreversibilityof narrative or
dramaticforms,each with its own unique progression.Such anl

order of developmentgives the feel of going somewhere,even

though, in the last analysis,the same cyclic tangle broodsover
The curativeeffect that comes
any self-consistentsymbol-system.
from a sense of directionin the unfolding of an implicational
structuremay explain why purgativeritualsare so often built
arounda procession.
The curativefeeling that comes from a sense of direction
doubtlessexplainshow hope of acquisition,of adventurein new
realms,can also have its measureof sheerlyformal "catharsis."
Thus, today,the implicationsin our technologicalterminologies
hold out clear "promise"of future developmentswherebymen
may hope to "transcend"the traditional, more "earthly" order

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367

of motives. The implications of these terminologies are there,

to be tracked down, if only in response to a kind of "compulsion
neurosis" such as the symbol-using animal inevitably experiences
when he sees ways of converting an implicational maze into a
direction.

All such efforts, of course, imply developments in other

areas, areas affecting the network of our socio-political terminologies (which have their peculiar sets of implications, too,
still partly to be disclosed, as emergent situations bring new
contingencies, with corresponding opportunities and demands).
In any case, all attempts to gain release by acquisition must involve Order. And Order by its very nature involves modes of
control and self-control that add up morally to "mortification."
So there will not even be a postponing of the issue; from the very
start there will be the problems of the sacrificial, requiring in
turn the endless cyclic treadmill of a search for releases in ways
that somehow also reimpose their burdens, keeping emancipation
within the bounds of regulation. Here, as ever, will be the
material for the tragic playwright to use, in his cathartic exploiting of tensions that arise from outside the universeof the dramatic
discourse itself-a conclusion that is perhaps grimly comic.

A POSTSCRIPTTO THE FOREGOING

There are a few other points I'd like at least to indicate.
(i) The paradigm of catharsis must contain ideas and images for at
least these major elemenits: unclean, clean, cleansing, cleanser (personal or
impersonal), cleansed. Nor does the cleansing process go simply from
unclean to cleansed, since the cleanser in some way takes over the uncleanness, which must in turn be disposed of. Or there are preparations, such

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POSTSCRIPT

as priestlydisciplines,to fit certainagents as cleansers;and other preparations (such as virtue, villainy, or the "tragic flaw") that fit the victims
of the cleansingto be the chosen vessels.Any such moment in a cathartic
process can be dwelt upon in formal isolation, as one station along the
way, and thus can be made the whole universe of discourse in a lyric,
though the resonanceof a lyric resultsin part from the fact that the reader
senses many of the unstated implicationspressing about its edges, on the
verge of enigmatic revelation. Such "fragmentation"makes elements of
the catharticprocess liable to displacementso that, even when these elements are all there, they may not be in their "proper"order. (An image
of the cure may turn up too soon, for instance,servingthus as an adumbration ratherthan a fulfillment.Or even after the "regeneration,"mortification may linger on, in some unregeneratedetail.)
The possibilitiesof "fragmentation"also allow for an overstress
(2)
upon some one element in the catharticprocess.For instance,the Poetics
makes clear the need of solemnity in the tragic recipe. But Cornelian
tragedy "efficiently"isolates this one moment, whereby the "theatre of
admiration"results, translating"wonder"into terms of pre-Revolutionary
courtliness,of "heroic"posturingsand gesturings that also had a strong
element of petition (itself a motive implicit in the idea of control by
"mortification").To a large extent, the Cornelian theater might be
analysed rather as stylistic appeal to the sovereign than, like Athenian
tragedy,medicine for demos.
(3) It so happensthat, in Aristotle'sformularegardinigtragiccatharsis,
the Greek word that refers to the producingof such an effect is derived
from a word peran, that means "oppositeshore."Thus, if we translated
it in etymologicalliteralness,we'd get something like: "Through pity and
fear, 'beyonding'the purge of such emotions." In tri-partiteworks like
Aeschylus' Orestejaor the Divine Comedy, we can clearly see how the
concluding steps, in both cases, are beyond fear and pity. The unfolding
has "beyonded"such emotions by going through them. With this thought
in mind, we could next proceedto show how the Sophocleanunitaryform
(such as Oedipus Rex and Oedipus at Colonus) brings these steps into a
single moment,like folding up a fan.
(4) We have noted that timely tensions may be translatedinto terms
of mythic dignification(wherebythey take on the qualityof the "essential,"
or "primal").Some of the best contemporarydrama in the United States

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369

seems to proceed by an almost opposite route. For whereas Aristotle had

suggestedthat conflictsof a generalnaturecan be dramatizedby reduction

to terms of conflict within a single family, and had observedthat certain
myths such as those connectedwith the House of Atreus well served this
purpose, our best playwrights,via the Freudian emphasis, tend to make
the family conflictlook like the very source and essenceof the social conflicts it reflects.Regardlessof their relativemerits in other respects,Arthur
Miller'sDeath of a Salesmanaims more at reversingthis trend than Tennessee Williams' Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. (Like much of our theater
generally, Cat involves us not so much in tragedy as in gossip; notably,
we might say, it gives us the lowdown on how Brick lost his botency.)
Another conclusion occurs to me. Recently, in the course of going
through a batch of notes I had taken on tragedy,I was struck by the fact
that certain words, in their mere listing, seemed to establisha mood, or
attitude, of tragic cast. Taking these words, I built some lines around
them. And since they, in their way, also representmy views on catharsis,I
offer them here at the end, by way of recapitulationin a poetic language.
POETIC EXERCISE ON THE SUBJECT OF DISGRUNTLEMENT
In the offing:"Holy, holyAnoint and sanctify."
About the edges:
"Pray,beseech,give alms, atone by suffering,
Penanceand repentance.
"My fault,
My gravestfault,
My most momentous,impious,sinful moment."
Seek absolution
In the Absolute.
Aristotle:"There is cause for alarm
If either injusticeor outragedvirtue
Has power."
#

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POSTSCRI

370
Vengeance,retribution,
Imprecation,malediction"Lament,lament,
But may the good conquer."
Guilt throughthe doing of forbiddenthings,
Guilt by forbearingto do forbiddenthingsAnd hope by grief to rid the self of grievances.
Estrangement,defilement,sacrifice,
Filth, evil,
Each idiot, with his special idiom.
I knew a man, well-heeledin sadness,
And you would be surprised.
A stinkeroohe was, and as a guide
Exceptionallydirty, a pestilence
In his offensiveness.
Victim, martyr, guilt, wereguilt,
Debt, redemption (that is, ransom from captivity),

Blood-feud,blood-guilt,sin-offering,blood-offering.
By "sin-eater"is meant"a man who (accordingto a formerpractice
in England)
For a small gratuityate a piece of breadlaid on the chest of a
dead person,
To take the sins of that dead person upon himself."
Purification through the word, that casts out demons;
Purification by cleansing, by things ritually clean;
Purification by sacrifice, scapegoat:
"Without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of sins."
Let them be saved in celibacy, virginity, abstention;
Let them be washed with gomez, the urine of the sacred cow.
Suffering from a vile disease,
He hoped to cure himself by giving it to others.
#

KENNETHBURKE

37 1

In general,a god preferredmale victims;

A goddess,female.
"It was the customat Athens
To reservecertainworthlesspersons,
Who in time of plague, famine, or like visitationsfrom heaven,
Were thrown into the sea, with fitting incantations,
That the peoplemight be purgedof their pollution."
Above off-scourings(the refuse of a sacrifice)
There arosethose Great PersecutionalWords:
Justice,Right, Necessity, Reverence,and Fate.

O that was a most fertile Indo-Europeanroot

From which sprangcrime, crisis, criticism,discrimination,
Sincere,and excrement.
Brunetiereon drama:
"Struggleagainst fate, against the social order, against someone
of like nature,
Against oneself under duress,
Againsta backgroundof ambitions,interests,prejudices,stupidityor
Malice."
Still, says Racine,
"It is not necessarythat therebe blood and death in tragedy.
It is enough if the actionhave magnitude,
lf the agents are heroic,
If the passionsare aroused,
And if the whole is diffused
With that majestic sorrow

Which constitutesthe tragic pleasure."

And right out of Pierre ('orneille (1608-1684)
I shoutedkey terms in Middle-WesternFrench:
gloire honneur royaume pouvoir devoir
couronne honneur
admiration honneur justice
puissance courage triomphe autorite honneur

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POSTSCRIPT
great deeds noble rage just punishment
large-mindedconquest submission
quotes: "and in pitying my sorrow,admiremy virtue."
Fires of tormentin Hell
Purgatorialfires
Fires of lust
Fires of love
Protectiverings of fire
Fire ultimate.
*f

OSpiritof Tolerance,fraillycrooked-smiling,
O loveliness,
Would I might be to Thee
What all were on the verge..
I would slough off
My slough.
We ask what timeAnd common sense might say:
It's betweenfive-thirtyand fifteen minutesto six.
But poetrymight say:
Between fight thwartedand fighting
Moans to sick.
We ask where toAnd common sense might say:
Straightdown that road and turn right.
But poetry might say:
Straightto the right
Until you come
To L-L-E-Aitch
Spelled backwards.
Then turn inside upside down and out-

BURKE
KENNETH
And you vermine,
I mean you depravedimage of God,
You're
Home....
Poetry is an old wound
Again breaksopen.
Poetryjams your face
Hard against the past.
(Spirit of Tolerance,frailly crooked-smiling,
Song is sweet

And filth is powerAnd I love you.)

The fellow said,

"Here is a-ropeYou-might-need-some-time."
He said,
"Here is an excellentpoison,
It could come in handy."
He said,
"This is fool-proof,sure-fire,
THE END."
And I thankedhim,
His clockfacestaringat me
Like the windows of someoneelse's house.
Even his jokes were grisly.
"Avoid alphabetsoup," he said,
"Or think of all the dirty words
You'll swallow."
He said,
"Love if you can.

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POSTSCRIPT
If not love, cry if you can.
If not cry,
Kill if you can."
A time of bated breath,
Apocalypse, and rabiesPower over universal life and death
Now in the hands of babies.
(Power loose in feeble fists)
*

LITANY OF LAMENTS
Frankilee, 0 frankilee,
Mankind is a-thirst for new-things
Statistically predictable.
Frankilee, 0 frankilee,
The times are like a swamp
Frantic with mosquitoes.
The presses clack of calamity
Like a colloquy of crows.
I knew a womani as coldly designing
As spideress or former poetess.
I heard of Beauty
That fell like a thud of brick.
I knew an one as cold in her designs
As spideress or sour ex-poetess.
Frankilee, 0 frankilee,
How can you, having but one back,
Be backed against so many walls?
The single problem:
War and peace.
Not peace by devastation,

BURKE
KENNETH
Not peace by enslavement,
Not peace by the tax-collecting
Of imperialpacification,
Not peace that rotsBut peace,
Somehow.
Frankilee,0 frankilee,
Frankilee,0 frankilee,
There is a gorgeouscanyon
Lifts up its naked gash
Towards a rainstormfresh descending.

Spirit of Tolerance,frailly crooked-smiling,

Heal us with old age,
Comfortus with sorrow.
Meet me at the secretmeeting place
Hid among the traffic.
Meet me near the lions
By the big library.
I have gray hair
Blue eyes
Glasses
And a mole under my right armpit.
They call me "Misery"
BecauseI love company.
And I am gloomy early of a wine-clearevening
While a slitherysliver of a silverymoon
Goes down nascently crescent.
Sleep, gentle sleep at eve,

That slides into the ravelledsleeve

And once again from pole to pole
Knits up, beloved, the carewornsoul.

375