Aristotle defined tragedy as “an imitation of a noble and complete action, having the proper magnitude; it employs language that has been artistically enhanced . . . it is presented in dramatic, not narrative form, and achieves, through the representation of pitiable and fearful incidents, the catharsis of such incidents” (Butcher).

However, he did not fully define comedy in his Poetics, as what has survived of the text through history is sparse. Based on the information that we do know, Aristotle distinguishes between the two by claiming that tragedy provides “noble” or “morally good” agents, while comedy portrays “ignoble” or “morally defective” characters. Furthermore, comedy is “an imitation of inferior people.”

By Aristotelian terms, tragedy should be used to inspire pity and fear. The character should experience catharsis, a great emotional closure, to qualify. Tragedies must have a plot, action, and characters, elements eventually shared by the comedy genre. However, obvious theatrical differences were included.

For example, tragedies had spectacle, used language to incite philosophical debates, and often included melody. Comedies were vulgar, employed bawdy humor, and oftentimes made fun of political figures. They were the perfect contrast to tragedies; in that they were better suited as sources of mass entertainment. Comedy keeps the tragic aspects of life in check. The genre takes the high and makes it ridiculous.

However, when comparing the works Epic of Gilgamesh, Oedipus Rex, and Lysistrata, Aristotle’s definitions can be proven wrong.

When we first meet Gilgamesh, he has already lived a storied life.

“Surpassing all kings, powerful and tall

beyond all others, violent, splendid

a wild bull of a man, unvanquished leader

hero in the front lines, beloved by his soldiers” (Mitchell, 80).

The Epic of Gilgamesh is a tragedy, by Aristotelian definitions, because we see the full impact of hubris at its worst in him. Hubris is the presence of excessive pride or self-confidence. The only way to keep him in check was for the gods to send him his equal in every way, Enkidu.

However, as tragedies claim, there must be a way for a lesson to be learned. Gilgamesh and Enkidu join forces, and become friends, and apparently, much more than that.

One aspect of Aristotle’s claim that tragedy provides “noble” or “morally good” agents is not honestly present in this epic. Nearly every named character within it is imperfect and flawed.

For example, the goddess Ishtar – infamous for her fiery temper – is presented here as the worst of the feminine kind. She proposes that Gilgamesh be her lover, and his only response is to unequivocally reject her. Nothing could tempt him to be her husband, let alone her bed.

At first, he tries to be humble when rejecting her:

“Tell me, how could I ever repay you

even if I gave you jewels, perfumes

rich robes?” (132).

But he is quick to ask:

“What will happen to me when your heart turns elsewhere, and your lust burns out?” (132).

This example does not qualify Gilgamesh as a whole to be a comedy, however. Later in the epic, on Gilgamesh’s final journey, Utnapishtim admonishes him asking,

“Gilgamesh, why

prolong your grief? Have you ever paused

to compare your own blessed lot with a fool’s?” (176).

Gilgamesh ultimately learns nothing in the end, which is seen in Oedipus Rex.

The heart of Oedipus Rex is the search for answers. For many years, Thebes – the kingdom the title character has ruled – has been plagued by crops not growing and women not having children.

Oedipus takes it upon himself to find the source of the plague, not realizing that he is the beginning and the end of the plague. His search for answers leads him to state explicitly that the murderer of King Laius must be found, and they must be exiled or have their own lives taken.

However, it is his assumption of the nature of Laius’ death that makes the play a tragedy in Aristotelian sense. For example, Tiresias the prophet begs Oedipus,

“Please send me home

Take up your load and I’ll take mine

Believe me, it is better so” (Roche, 18).

Throughout the whole scene Oedipus cannot divine the truth from what Tiresias is trying to tell him, that

“detected in his very heart of home

his children’s father and their brother

son and husband to his mother

bed-rival to his father and assassin” (26).

The aspect of tragedy that says that “through the representation of pitiable and fearful incidents” is in line with Aristotle’s definition. We see Oedipus presented as a great man who has claimed blind ignorance to Fate his entire life, by other’s meddling and later, by his own hubris.

By the time we find him in Rex, we find the answers that he so desperately needs but are blind to accept. The eventual catharsis of his character is after he finds out the truth of his birth, and that he must follow through with what he said he would of Laius’ assassin.

But rather than allow the morally just punishment for his sins with his death, Oedipus blinds himself.

“‘Wicked, wicked eyes!’ he gasps

‘You shall not see me nor my crime

not see my present shame. Go dark for all time blind

to what you never should have seen, and blind

to the love this heart has cried to see” (70).

What is true of Oedipus Rex is that the title character – like Gilgamesh – is not “noble.” The women of Lysistrata are – however – “morally good” agents.

Lysistrata begins with a gathering of the women from the great cities of Athens and Sparta. Lysistrata encourages the women to “abstain from the prick” (Sutherland, 18) to bring their men home permanently.

In the comedic sense, Lysistrata holds true. Comedies were meant as a light-hearted approach to a heavy subject. In this case the heavy subject is that of a long-standing war. Aristophanes takes a very serious matter and gives it a comedic spin from the viewpoint of women.

While his approach to comedy is lewd and often loaded with double entendres, it does present “noble” and “morally good” agents, unlike the Epic of Gilgamesh and Oedipus Rex. The women of Lysistrata want only to see the war end. That alone is a noble cause to support.

While our interpretation of the play today is considerably skewed from Classical audiences, it is telling that a comedy could serve many purposes. In Classical times, women believing they could have control in the way that they do in the play would have been the topic of discussion.

In modern times, the withholding of sex becomes absurd, not the idea that women have enough agency to control the outcome of a war. Could Lysistrata have been told tragically? Most certainly.

Would it have been more effective if it were? No.

When applying the Aristotelian view of tragedy, Lysistrata would fail on the premise of catharsis. There is no great emotional overhaul, particularly when the men agree on peace. They see it as

“An international conspiracy

launched by the women!

Now I comprehend it all!” (57).

The peace accord is agreed upon only because they want to have sex with their women again, not because the lesson is learned: that war is hell, and it affects not only the participants, but those who are left behind.

By Aristotelian definitions, the Epic of Gilgamesh, Oedipus Rex, and Lysistrata are not tragedies and comedies, respectively. But they have survived through the ages as Classical representations of what we know to be tragic or comedic.

The lessons we have learned from each play are what make them tragedies and a comedy, not because they adhere to Aristotle’s definitions.

The lessons one can learn from each have changed through the centuries but hold fast for their ability to appeal to human nature.

Works Cited

• Aristophanes. Lysistrata. Trans. Donald Sutherland. New York: Applause Theatre Book Publishers, 1992.
• Aristotle. Poetics. Trans. S. H. Butcher. The Internet Classics Archive. Web Atomic and Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 13 Sept. 2007. Web. 28 February 2010.
• Epic of Gilgamesh. Trans. Stephen Mitchell. New York: Free Press, 2004.
• Sophocles. The Oedipus Plays of Sophocles. Trans. Paul Roche. New York: Plume, 1986.