In the foregoing translation, I believe I have made this hitherto dubious passage clear; it will only be necessary to add the following remarks: Could Aristotle, notwithstanding his always objective manner,--as, for instance, here, where he seems to be speaking exclusively of the technique of tragedy,--be really thinking of the effect, indeed the distant effect, upon the _spectator_? By no means! He speaks clearly and definitely: When the course of action is one arousing pity and fear, the tragedy must close _on the stage_ with an equilibration, a reconciliation, of these emotions. By “catharsis,” he understands this reconciling culmination, which is demanded of all drama, indeed of all poetical works. This occurs in the tragedy through a kind of human sacrifice, whether it be rigidly worked out with the death of the victim, or, under the influence of a favoring divinity, be satisfied by a substitute, as in the case of Abraham and Agamemnon. But this reconciliation, this release, is necessary at the end if the tragedy is to be a perfect work of art. This release, on the other hand, when effected through a favorable or desirable outcome, rather makes the work resemble an intermediate species of art, as in the return of Alcestis. In comedy, on the contrary, for the clearing up of all complications, which in themselves are of little significance from the point of view of arousing fear and hope, a marriage is usually introduced; and this, even if it does not end life completely, does make in it an important and serious break. Nobody wants to die, everybody to marry; and in this lies the half-jocose, half-serious difference between tragedy and comedy in practical æsthetics. We shall perceive further that the Greeks did make use of their “trilogy” for such a purpose; for there is no loftier “catharsis” than the _Œdipus of Kolonus_, where a half-guilty delinquent,--a man who, through a demonic strain in his nature, through the sombre vehemence as well as greatness of his character, and through a headstrong course of action, puts himself at the mercy of the ever-inscrutable, unalterable powers,--plunges himself and his family into the deepest, irreparable misery, and yet finally, after having made atonement and reparation, is raised to the company of the gods, as the auspicious protecting spirit of a region, revered with special sacrifices and services. Here we find the principle of the great master, that the hero of a tragedy must be regarded and represented neither as wholly guilty nor as wholly innocent. In the first case the catharsis would merely result from the nature of the story, and the murdered wretch would appear only to have escaped the common justice which would have fallen upon him anyway by law. In the second case, it is not feasible either; for then there would seem to fall on human power or fate the weight of an all too heavy burden of injustice.