case to the changes of termination in the verb, as well as the

noun.

The concluding chapters institute a comparison between the tragic and the epic poem by way not only of pointing out their differences, but also of determining their relative excellence. They agree in most of their essential elements. But the epic dispenses with music and scenic preparations. It is confined for the most part to hexameter verse, and it admits of greater length. The drama does not admit of long episodes, while the epic derives its length from them. The main story of the Odyssey may be told in three sentences. It is the episodes that stretch it into twenty-four Books. In like manner, the Iliad also contains many fables or plots for the drama.

Heroic verse certainly surpasses in dignity and elevation the Iambic, which is often used in animated conversation under the promptings of nature. The epic may also be said to be superior to the tragic in dispensing with music and action, and so addressing itself more exclusively to the eye and ear of the mind. But a good tragedy will bear to be read, as well as a good epic. And the music and action, when skilfully applied, afford so much additional pleasure and excitement. Tragedy has also more perfect unity, and being more concentrated, is more intense in its impression and effect.

Such is an outline of Aristotle's justly celebrated Poetic. We have not followed exactly his arrangement throughout. We may have failed, in some instances, to catch his idea, for this work, like others of the same author, is not without its disputed points. We have often simplified his language and made it more conspicuous. But we have doubtless obscured his meaning in many parts by the brevity which we have been obliged to consult. On the whole, we believe we have given a fair representation of the work. And though it is only an abstract of a fragment, with which we here present our readers, yet we think they cannot but be struck with the profound thought and masterly analysis with

which the author treats so vague and so subtle a subject. A like thorough and philosophical discussion of the theory of all the fine arts were a treasure indeed. More nearly such, doubtless, was the entire work. Such at all events the author was manifestly capable of furnishing. This treatise is founded deep in the nature of the human soul. At the same time, it is constructed with constant reference to the jus, et norma, et usus loquendi of the best poets. It is replete with original thought. It is also fraught with various learning, though we have been obliged to sacrifice to conciseness his copious and pertinent illustrations.

For ages, the Poetic of Aristotle ruled with as absolute sway in the world of letters, as his philosophy did in the theological world. The great French dramatists in particular, were far more afraid of sinning against the unities of Aristotle than against the law of God. They thus hampered their genius and impaired the value of their productions. But it was the abuse of a good thing. We might have had some better poetry, but we should have had a vast deal of worse, if Aristotle had never written. German authors and scholars for the most part complain that the Poetic is not sufficiently ideal, and adheres too strictly to the "empirical stand-point of his philosophy." But now and then one of them is extravagant in praise of it. Thus Lessing pronounces it as infallible in its principles and as incontrovertible in its arguments, as the Elements of Euclid! The Poetic is well worthy of a place among the Classics in every system of liberal education. No modern treatise on Esthetics can wholly supersede it. The moderns may produce works, that are fuller and more complete, but none more acute or more profound. In our opinion it is one of the very best of all the works of its illustrious author.

After so copious an analysis of the doctrine, and so full an illustration of the manner of Aristotle in the foregoing treatises, we shall content ourselves with a brief abstract of the other works which we shall mention. And first, of

The Ethics.

When we look at man as he acts under the promptings of his own nature, we see that he seeks some things for their own sake, and other things for the sake of their consequences -in other words, that he seeks some things only as means, while he seeks other things directly as ends. That which he always seeks for its own sake, and for the sake of which he seeks every thing else, is happiness. Happiness, therefore, is his ultimate end or chief good.

The highest felicity or chief good appropriate to man must be found chiefly, though not exclusively, in the exercise of those faculties which distinguish the human species. These are understanding and will, the former possessing reason essentially in itself, the latter capable of being associated with, and assimilated to, that divine principle. From these two powers of the human soul, result two classes of virtues, the intellectual and the moral. Sagacity, penetration, intelligence, wisdom, are virtues of the understanding. Gentleness, temperance, fortitude, justice, are virtues of the will or heart. The former consist in the proper disposition and habit of the intellectual part of the soul; the latter in the proper disposition and habit of the inclinations and passions, which, being found subordinate to reason, perform their duty, only when they implicitly obey its dictates. The intellectual virtues depend chiefly on exercise and education; the moral proceed entirely from habit, whence they derive their name (101, Mores, Morals).

Virtue is a practical art, and, like all the arts of life, can be acquired only by practice. It is neither natural, nor yet contrary to nature. We are born capable of attaining it, but the attainment must be made and perfected by habit. The virtues, consisting in a proper moderation of the faculties or feelings, from which they spring, lie in a medium between the extremes of too little and too much. Thus to fear every thing is cowardice; to fear nothing is audacity. True cour

age fears that which is formidable, and fears nothing else. Temperance is a medium between the excessive pursuit and the entire renunciation of the pleasures of sense. As men

are more inclined to the excess than to the defect in this case, the former only is called intemperance; but the latter is also a vice, and may be called insensibility. In like manner, generosity is the mean between avarice and profusion; modesty, between pride and diffidence; gentleness, between irascibility and softness; magnificence, between ostentation and parsimony, etc. etc. In a word, every virtue consists in a mean between two vicious extremes. And a virtuous person is one who is in the habit of maintaining this due medium.

There are many, and those among the most important virtues, the exercise of which, at first, is not attended with pleasure. Such are temperance, fortitude, prudence, patriotism, friendship, justice, which often require, at first, much self-denial, pains-taking and persevering effort. But by habit they all become sources of pleasure; and the pleasure with which we practise them, is the very test and measure of our virtues.

The moral virtues, according to Aristotle, cannot subsist without some mixture of the intellectual; but the intellectual may subsist by themselves alone. Moreover, the moral virtues depend upon circumstances for their exercise. We may have the virtuous dispositions or habits, and yet not have the means wherewith, or the objects whereupon, to exercise them. But the intellectual virtues are independent of outward objects. They require only the contemplative mind, and they may be exerted under any circumstances. They afford pleasure in their very exercise, and are in themselves sufficient and complete. Accordingly, Aristotle agrees with Plato in finding the highest felicity of which man is susceptible in the exertion of his rational powers, and in the exercises of contemplative wisdom.

Aristotle's Ethics is chargeable with the same faults, which we have discovered in his other works-an excessive disposition to simplify and generalize-an excessive fondness for the

intellectual and the abstract. According to his own definition, he certainly is not a virtuous philosopher. He carries every thing to an extreme. And the intellectual extreme in morals is particularly vicious, because it strikes out the corner-stone of virtue. Well might Bacon say: "I find it strange that Atistotle should have written divers volumes of ethics, and never handled the affections, which is the principal subject thereof!" Never were two ethical systems more entirely at variance as to the nature of virtue, than those of Aristotle and President Edwards. Edwards on the Affections would have been quite as effectual a poser to Aristotle, as Edwards on the Will is to certain modern admirers of Plato. Aristotle, virtue is not love to any thing-least of all, "love to being in general." The great source and sum of being is struck out of his system of morals. Instead of basing his ethics upon theology, as Socrates did, he has built a temple without a god, and without any place for one. And as he acknowledges no all-seeing eye to discern the heart, so he pays no regard to the motives and springs of human action. He recognizes no higher guide of moral conduct than reason, and no deeper foundation of moral character, than habit. The Ethics is therefore false in theory and of little use in prac

tice.

With

But it abounds in important thoughts, ingenious speculations, and able reasonings. The definition of virtue, as consisting in a mean between two extremes, and the test and measure of virtue as lying in the pleasure with which we practise it-both these, though hasty generalizations, which will not bear so universal an application, are certainly happy thoughts, which are well worthy of our attentive consideration. And his view of habit as constituting the character, becomes a truth of vast importance, if only extended so as to embrace, not merely the habitual conduct, but the habitual motives by which it is prompted. Aristotle's Ethics made a bad standard of theology for the doctors and divines of the middle ages. It would not make a good text-book of moral philosophy for the professors of our day. But no curious and reflecting mind