passions so entirely dissimilar. But as neither of these is a fault that Aristotle is usually guilty of, we might, only from this circumstance, be led to doubt the correctness of this version, even if there were no other reasons tending to a like result.

Lessing, in his Dramaturgie, is, I believe, the only critic who has pointed out and illustrated the true meaning of póßos in the above definition. In his view it is not terror (schrecken) that Aristotle means, but fear (furcht); that sort of fear, namely, or apprehension which we experience on beholding our like (TO OLOV) in misfortunes into which it is not improbable that fate or fortune may plunge ourselves. This explanation has not only the merit of originality, but of being based upon one of the soundest principles of criticism-that of making an author his own interpreter. And not only is it borne out by the whole tenor of the Poetic, but it is further confirmed by the Rhetoric, both works so intimately connected that we are occasionally referred by their author from one to the other, for the illustration or development of some idea which may not have been sufficiently explained.

Rhetoric.

The close connexion held by Aristotle to exist between pity and fear for ourselves, may be shown from several passages of the It will be sufficient to quote the two following: "as δ ̓ ἁπλῶς εἰπεῖν φοβερά ἐσιν ὅσα ἐφ' ἑτέρων γιγνόμενα ἢ μέλλοντα ἐλεεινὰ ést. Lib. 11. 5—12 (and, to speak generally, those things inspire fear, which happening to, or impending over others, are pitiable). Again, καὶ τοὺς ὁμοίους ἐλεοῦσιν κατὰ ἡλικίαν, κατὰ ἤθη, κατὰ ἕξεις, κατὰ ἀξιώματα, κατὰ γένη ̇ ἐν πᾶσι γὰρ τούτοις μᾶλλον φαίνεται καὶ αὐτῷ ἂν ὑπάρξαι. Ολως γὰρ καὶ ἐνταῦθα δεῖ λαβεῖν ὅτι ὅσα ἐφ ̓ αὑτῶν φοβοῦνται ταῦτα ἐπ ̓ ἄλλων γιγνόμενα ἐλεοῦσιν. L. II. 8. 13. (Men also pity those who are their equals in age, in manners, in disposition, in dignity, and in family; since from all these circumstances it seems more probable that the same thing will happen to themselves. For we must here also universally assume, that men pity those accidents of others which excite dread for themselves).

It is in this intimate connexion of the two passions that we must seek the true key to Aristotle's theory. In the latter passage too, we are to trace the reason why the character of the tragic hero must be neither too good nor too bad, but bear some resemblance to that of the great mass of mankind. Fear and pity are gentle emotions, easily expelled by some stronger passion. Thus the

2 V. Dramaturgie, p. 336.

sight of an eminently virtuous man overwhelmed with undeserved misfortunes, is of too painful a nature, and calculated to excite indignation and despair, rather than fear and pity. It is not pitiable, but papór-revolting, or disgusting. The stronger passion drives out the weaker. The same thing happens when the circumstances attending any catastrophe are of too horrid and revolting a nature; as the murder of very near relations. These are not pitiable, but horrifying-τὸ γὰρ δεινὸν ἕτερον τοῦ ἐλεεινοῦ καὶ ἐκκρουστικὸν τοῦ ἐλέου, καὶ πολλάκις τῷ ἐναντίῳ χρήσιμον. Rhet. II. 8. 12. (For the dreadful is a very different thing from the pitiable, and even expulsive of pity, and, often useful for the contrary purpose). Yet the mere impending of such horrible calamities, provided they do not actually occur, and are only in prospect, is calculated to excite pity (—ἔτι ἐλεοῦσιν ἐγγὺς αὐτοῦ τοῦ δεινοῦ ὄντος.—Ibid.) because there is all the high-wrought painful interest, without the actual horror and disgust. And accordingly a catastrophe of this description is considered by Aristotle as the most suitable for tragedy. (Poet. к¿', p. 46.) And now it is easy to see how erroneously póẞos is rendered by terror; for it cannot be denied that such horrible misfortunes are well calculated to arouse that passion, although they drive out that species of sympathetic fear which it is the proper end of tragedy to excite.

Neither must the tragic hero be too bad a man—ó σþódpa Tovηpós-for in that case his misfortunes will excite neither pity nor fear. (Poet. § Ke'.) Not pity, because that is bestowed on undeserved calamity; not fear, because that is only excited by the reverses of one whose character resembles our own. But though the calamities which befal such a man be neither fearful nor pitiable, still they are said to kindle in the breast an emotion not altogether foreign to tragic interest, namely, rò piλáv@pwñov, or the feeling of philanthropy. For though Aristotle does not consider the exciting of such a feeling to be the main or proper end of tragedy, yet we may infer from a passage of the Poetic, where it is coupled with the fearful and the pitiable, that it is not altogether alien from it. The passage alluded to, is in § κe', where, speaking of a catastrophe in which good fortune ultimately attends the wicked, he remarks that it is quite unsuitable to tragedy, since it possesses nothing that it ought-neither the philanthropic, nor the pitiable, nor the fearful. οὐδὲν γὰρ ἔχει ὧν δεῖ· οὔτε γὰρ φιλάνθρωπον οὔτε ἐλεεινόν οὔτε φοβερόν ἐσιν). And, in § λβ', p. 60, the tragic and philanthropic are again mentioned as closely allied (rpayıkòv γὰρ τοῦτο καὶ φιλάνθρωπον).

The use of piλávéporov in these passages helps to illustrate the true meaning of the póßepov and ecwór, and to throw some light on what Aristotle understood by the words τῶν τοιούτων παθημάτων. For philanthropy (as well as fear and pity-taken in the true Aristotelian sense as above explained) belongs to those sympathetic emotions which link us to our kind. And hence, perhaps, we may infer that Aristotle, by the words similar passions, understood all such emotions.

φιλάνθρωπον.

It may be proper here to advert to two different, and even opposite, significations which commentators have in this place attributed to the word páv@parov. Both, indeed, denote sympathy with our kind; but one enlists that sympathy for the criminal hero represented on the stage; the other directs it towards the spectators who rejoice in his punishment.

The former of these interpretations is adopted by Lessing (Dramaturgie, p. 343), who maintains that Aristotle does not mean the satisfaction which we feel at the deserved punishment of the criminal, but the sympathetic feelings of humanity which are awakened in us by the actual sufferings of the man. This would countenance the modern morbid sensibility for malefactors. It does not, however, appear to have been Aristotle's meaning. For let us examine what he says:

Speaking of the various catastrophes suitable for tragedy (§ κé'), he tells us that "the bad must not become happy from unhappy; for this is the most untragic of all, and has not a single thing it ought, neither the philanthropic, the pitiable, nor the fearful: nor again, should it be a thoroughly wicked man who undergoes a change from good fortune to bad. For though such a plot may possess the philanthropic, yet it hath in it neither pity nor fear.”

To support Lessing's opinion it would be necessary to draw a very broad distinction between pity for a criminal, and a philanthropic feeling towards him. Yet he admits (p. 344) that we correctly class that feeling under the name of pity; though, to justify his interpretation, he contends that the term is here used to distinguish our feelings on such an occasion from that highest grade of pity which is mixed up with fear for ourselves.

This is sufficiently ingenious. But in order to show how repugnant it is to all the feelings by which men are usually actuated, it will be sufficient to mention, that Lessing himself, in another place, speaking of the unfitness of Richard's character for tragedy, says it is so devilish and horrid that we could see him surrendered to the torments of hell itself, without feeling the least

compassion for him. It is true that, not entirely to contradict his former explanation of philanthropy as a sort of pity unconnected with fear for ourselves, he inserts the saving clause—“without in the least fearing that if such punishment wait only on such crimes, it is likely to attend ourselves." But it would be difficult, perhaps, to reconcile philanthropy, even thus modified and defined, with the feeling above described in the case of Richard.

It would be uncritical, however, to rest the interpretation of any passage in Aristotle on a vague appeal to the general sense of mankind. It will be far better to adopt Lessing's excellent principle, and to let Aristotle speak for himself; who, in the second book of his Rhetoric (cap. ix. 4) has the following words on this subject: Ὁ μὲν γὰρ λυπούμενος ἐπὶ τοῖς ἀναξίως κακοπραγοῦσιν ἡσθήσεται η ἄλυπος ἔσαι ἐπὶ τοῖς ἐναντίως κακοπραγοῦσιν. Οἷον τοὺς πατραλοίας καὶ μιαιφόνους, ὅταν τύχωσι τιμωρίας, οὐδεὶς ἂν λυπηθείη χρηστός· δεῖ γὰρ χαίρειν ἐπὶ τοῖς τοιούτοις· ὡς δ ̓ αὕτως καὶ ἐπὶ τοῖς εὖ πράττουσι κατ' ἀξίαν. ἄμφω γὰρ δίκαια, καὶ ποιεῖ χαίρειν τὸν ἐπιεικῆ. ἀνάγκη γὰρ ἐλπίζειν, ὑπάρξαι ἄν, ἅπερ τῷ ὁμοίῳ, καὶ αὑτῷ. (For he who is touched with grief for those who suffer undeservedly, will either rejoice, or at least be indifferent, for the calamities of the wicked. Thus, no good man would feel sorrow when parricides or assassins meet with their deserts; for it behoves him rather to rejoice over them in like manner as over those whose merit is rewarded by success; for both these events are just, and calculated to fill the virtuous man with pleasure; since he cannot but expect that what happens to his like will happen to himself.)

In answer, then, to the first question proposed in this inquiry, it seems preferable to adopt Lessing's interpretation, viz. that the pity and fear which Aristotle meant are those excited by the consideration of human events in relation to ourselves, and that neither can exist without some admixture of the other. A shorter phrase might be human sympathy; or, in the beautiful words of Terence, "homo sum: nil humanum a me alienum puto.” And thus we shall understand how philanthropy comes to be joined with those passions, and comprehend the general nature

3 Aber er ist so ein abscheulicher Kerl, so ein eingefleischter Teufel, in dem wir so völlig keinen einzigen ähnlichen Zug mit uns selbst finden, dass ich glaube, wir könnten ihn vor unsern Augen den Martern der Hölle übergeben

sehen ohne das geringste für ihn zu empfinden, ohne im geringsten zu fürchten, dass wenn solche Strafe nur auf solche Verbrechen folge, sie auch unsrer erwarte."-Dramat. p. 354.

of those emotions, which Aristotle included under the words τῶν τοιούτων παθημάτων.

It would be improper to dismiss this part of the subject without adverting to the manner in which this definition has been treated by Hermann in his edition of the Poetic. That critic hardly attempts to develope or explain Aristotle's theory; but flatly telling the reader that the Stagirite knew nothing of what he was talking about, summarily dismisses fear and pity from having the least share in effecting the object of tragedy, and substitutes for them a vague and indefinite affection of the understanding rather than the heart, namely, sublimity; than which it is impossible to conceive any thing more remote from-if it be not absolutely opposed to-the sympathetic emotions. And, even in his own method of reasoning; namely, an appeal to what we moderns experience after having been spectators of a modern tragedy, he does not seem to have succeeded in establishing this sublime discovery, which Aristotle had so unaccountably overlooked. For, to judge of men's sentiments by their discourse, though we frequently hear a tragedy commended as very pathetic, it is but seldom that one is spoken of as being sublime. And if this be so, Hermann's discovery will suit neither antient nor modern tragedy.

The source of Hermann's misconception lies, probably, in a misunderstanding of what Aristotle meant by the words Tv κáðapov τῶν τοιούτων παθημάτων. In common with many other commentators he makes Aristotle talk about a kábαpois of the soul (purgatio animi). But the great philosopher says not a word about the soul. All he says is—the κábapors of similar passions. Now what did he mean by the term κάθαρσις?

The investigation of this point leads to the second head of this inquiry, and which is inseparably bound up with the question, Whether Aristotle ascribed any moral end to tragedy?

The view which Aristotle takes of the drama throughout the Poetic is one purely of art. Tragedy and comedy, like painting

4" Quid sibi velit Aristoteles unumquemque qui tragoedias spectaverit, facile sensus suus docebit. Animo commoti e spectaculo redimus, sed ea est hæc commotio quæ ab omni humilitate ab omni inhonestâ cupiditate aliena sit. Cujus rei causam non recte indicavit Aristoteles qui tragœdiam dicat δι' ἐλέου καὶ

φόβου περαίνουσαν τὴν τῶν τοιούτων παθημάτων κάθαρσιν. Non enim per miserationem et terrorem istiusmodi purgatio animi efficitur sed per sublimitatem, quam quum omnium maxime in tragœdiæ definitione commemorare Aristoteles deberet omnium minime tetigit, &c. Hermann's Arist. Poet. p. 115.