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sailing are energies; and so is elocution, and so is life itself. On the contrary, call every production, whose parts exist all at once, and whose nature depends not on a transition for its essence, call it a work, or thing done, not an energy or operation. Thus a house is a work, a statue is a work, and so is a ship, and so a picture. I seem, said I, to comprehend you.

If, then, there be no productions, said he, but must be of parts, either co-existent or successive; and the one of these be, as you perceive, a work, and the other be an energy; it will follow, there will be no production, but will be either a work or an energy. There will not, said I.-But every art, said he, you have granted, is accomplished and ended in what it produces? I replied, I had.-And there are no productions, but works or energies?-None.

It will follow, then, said he, that every art will be accomplished and ended in a work or energy.P

To this I answered, that his reasoning I could not impeach;

P The cause here treated is the formal, called by various names; the eldos, the λόγος, the τί ἐστι, the τὸ τὶ ἦν εἶναι. Vid. Scal. de Caus. Ling. Lat. l. v. c. 113. p. 232. Imperfectum autem Græci, etc.

In the beginning of the above-cited Ethics, after the author has told us that every art, and human action, tend to some good, or end; he adds, Aiapopà dé Tis φαίνεται τῶν τέλων τὰ μὲν γάρ εἰσιν ἐνεργείαι· τὰ δὲ παρ ̓ αὐτὰς, ἔργα τινά: "but there appears a difference in ends: for some are energies; some, over and above these energies, are certain works." Quintilian's Institutes, the same distinction, with respect to the end of arts, is mentioned, 1. ii. c. 18. Vid. Plat. in Dio. Laert. 1. iii. c. 84. p. 216. c. 100. p. 225.

In

But here perhaps it may be asked, if all arts are ended and accomplished in some energy or work, and this energy or work be almost universally that absent good, toward which they all tend, and for the sake of which they are all exerted; (for a dance, which is an energy, and a house, which is a work, are certain absent goods or pleasures, for the sake of which certain arts operate ;) if this be allowed, it may be asked, whence then the difference between the formal cause and the final; the final, as in note m it has been already treated?

The answer to this is, that they concur and are the same. Tò μèv yàp Tí ¿OTI, kal тd oû éveka, v čσTI. "The formal cause and the final are one." Arist. Nat. Ausc. 1. ii. c. 7. If they differ, it is (as Joannes Grammaticus observes in commenting on this place) a difference rather in the time and manner of our viewing them, than in their own essence and nature. It may

not perhaps be improper to transcribe his own words: Ταυτὸν τῷ ἀριθμῷ τὸ τέλος καὶ τὸ εἶδος, τῇ σχέσει μόνῃ διαφέρον, ὡς εἴρηται, καὶ τῷ χρόνῳ, ὅταν μὲν γὰρ ὡς γινόμενον, καὶ μήπω ὃν θεωρῆται, τέλος ἐστίν· ὅταν δὲ ὡς ἤδη γενόμενον, εἶδος. "The end and the form are numerically the same, differing (as has been said) in relation only, and time. For thus the same thing, while considered as in its progress to completion, but as not yet complete, is so long an end; when considered as actually complete, is no longer an end, but a form." And thus is this question one way answered, by acknowledging that these two causes coincide, and differ not in their essence or real character; but rather in the time and manner of our contemplating them.

But there is another answer, and that is derived from the twofold nature of final causes. According to this doctrine, arts have not only a nearer and more immediate end, (as a ship is the end of ship-building, or navigating the end of pilotry,) but they have a still remoter and higher end, a τέλος τελικώτατον, that is to say, man, human-kind, or (in other words) the utility or elegance of human life. Thus the Stagirite: Ἐσμὲν γὰρ πῶς καὶ ἡμεῖς τέλος dixws yàp тò où éveka. “For we ourselves also are in some sort an end: for the final cause is twofold." Natur. Auscult. 1. ii. C. 2. If, therefore, we have respect to this ultimate end, these two causes will be found to differ, and be really distinct from each other.

And thus it is that in some respects they agree, and in others they differ, according to the above distinctions established by this philosophy.

but that still the distinction of work and energy was what I did not well comprehend.-There are several circumstances, said he, which will serve sufficiently to make it clear.-I begged he would mention some.

Thus, then, said he, when the production of any art is an energy, then the perfection of the art can be only perceived during that energy. For instance, the perfection of a musician is only known while he continues playing. But when the production of any art is a work, then is not the perfection visible during the energy, but only after it. Thus the perfection of the statuary is not seen during his energies as a statuary, but when his energies are over; when no stroke of the chisel is wanting, but the statue is left as the result of all.—It is true, said I.

Again, continued he, in consequence of this, where the production is an energy, there the production is of necessity coeval with the artist. For how should the energy survive the man; the playing remain when the musician is dead? But where the production is a work, then is there no such necessity. The work may well remain, when the artist is forgotten; there being no more reason, that the statue and the artist should be coeval, than the man and the rude marble, before it received a regular figure. You seem now, said I, to have explained yourself.

If, then, said he, work and energy be made intelligible terms, you cannot but perceive the truth of what we before asserted, that every art, according to its genius, must needs be accomplished in one of these; that, except in these two, it can be accomplished in nothing else; and, consequently, that one of these must of necessity be its end.-I answered, that the reasoning appeared justly deduced.-So much, then, replied he, for the ending or accomplishment of art; and so much also for a long, and, I fear, an intricate disquisition.

V. He had no sooner said this, than I was beginning to applaud him; especially on his having treated a subject so copiously, started, as it were, by chance, and without any apparent preparation. But I had not gone far, before he interrupted me, by saying, that as to my praises they were more than he deserved; that he could pretend to no great merit for having been, as I called it, so copious, when he had so often before thought on what at present we had been talking.-In short, says he, to tell you a secret, I have been a long time amusing myself in forming an essay upon this subject. I could not here forbear reproaching him, for having hitherto concealed his intentions. My reproaches produced a sort of amicable controversy, which at length ended in his offering, that, to make me some amends, he would now recite me (if I pleased) a small fragment of the piece; a fragment which he had happened accidentally to have about him. The proposal, on my part, was willingly accepted, and without further delay the papers were produced.

As to the performance itself, it must be confessed, in point of style, it was somewhat high and florid, perhaps even bordering upon an excess. At the time however of recital, this gave me less offence, because it seemed, as it were, to palliate the dryness of what had passed before, and in some sort to supply the place of an epilogue to our conference. Not however to anticipate, he began reading as follows:

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"O Art! thou distinguishing attribute and honour of human kind! who art not only able to imitate Nature in her graces, but (what is more) even to adorn her with graces of thy own. Possessed of thee, the meanest genius grows deserving, and has a just demand for a portion of our esteem. Devoid of thee, the brightest of our kind lie lost and useless, and are but poorly distinguished from the most despicable and base. When we inhabited forests in common with brutes, nor otherwise known from them than by the figure of our species, thou taughtest us to assert the sovereignty of our nature, and to assume that empire for which Providence intended us. Thousands of utilities owe their birth to thee; thousands of elegancies, pleasures, and joys, without which life itself would be but an insipid possession. Wide and extensive is the reach of thy dominion. No element is there either so violent or so subtle, so yielding or so sluggish, as by the powers of its nature to be superior to thy direction. Thou dreadest not the fierce impetuosity of fire, but compellest its violence to be both obedient and useful. By it thou softenest the stubborn tribe of minerals, so as to be formed and moulded into shapes innumerable. Hence weapons, armour, coin; and previous to these, and other thy works and energies, hence all those various tools and instruments which empower thee to proceed to further ends more excellent. Nor is the subtle air less obedient to thy power, whether thou willest it to be a minister to our pleasure, or utility. At thy command it giveth birth to sounds, which charm the soul with all the powers of harmony. Under thy instruction it moves the ship over seas, while that yielding element, where otherwise we sink, even water itself is by thee taught to bear us; the vast ocean to promote that intercourse of nations, which ignorance would imagine it was destined to intercept. To say how thy influence is seen on earth, would be to teach the meanest what he knows already. Suffice it but to mention fields of arable and pasture; lawns

This alludes to a capital distinction of art, taken from a view of her different ends. Art may in some respects be said to finish nature; in others, to imitate her. She finishes her, where nature, having given the powers, is of herself unable to give them perfection. It is thus the gymnastic arts, dancing, riding &c., finish the corporcal powers; while the sublimer arts, logic,

rhetoric, moral virtue, &c., finish the mental. Where she does not finish nature, she imitates her, as in sculpture, painting, dramatic poetry, &c.

Aristotle expresses the above sentiment as follows: Ολως τε ἡ τέχνη τὰ μὲν ἐπι τελεῖ, ἂν ἡ φύσις ἀδυνατεῖ ἀπεργάζεσθαι, rà de pueîrai. Physic. 1. ii. c. 8.

and groves, and gardens, and plantations; cottages, villages, castles, towns; palaces, temples, and spacious cities.

"Nor does thy empire end in subjects thus inanimate. Its power also extends through the various race of animals, who either patiently submit to become thy slaves, or are sure to find thee an irresistible foe. The faithful dog, the patient ox, the generous horse, and the mighty elephant, are content all to receive their instructions from thee, and readily to lend their natural instincts or strength, to perform those offices which thy occasions call for. If there be found any species which are serviceable when dead, thou suggestest the means to investigate and take them. If any be so savage as to refuse being tamed, or of natures fierce enough to venture an attack, thou teachest us to scorn their brutal rage; to meet, repel, pursue, and

conquer.

"And such, O Art! is thy amazing influence, when thou-art employed only on these inferior subjects; on natures inanimate, or, at best, irrational. But whenever thou choosest a subject more noble, and settest to the cultivating of Mind itself, then it is thou becomest truly amiable and divine; the ever-flowing source of those sublimer beauties of which no subject but Mind alone is capable. Then it is thou art enabled to exhibit to mankind the admired tribe of poets and of orators; the sacred train of patriots and of heroes; the godlike list of philosophers and legislators; the forms of virtuous and equal polities, where private welfare is made the same with public; where crowds themselves prove disinterested and brave, and virtue is made a national and popular characteristic.

"Hail! sacred source of all these wonders! Thyself instruct me to praise thee worthily, through whom, whatever we do is done with elegance and beauty; without whom, what we do is ever graceless and deformed. Venerable power! By what name shall I address thee? Shall I call thee Ornament of Mind; or art thou more truly Mind itself? It is Mind thou art, most perfect Mind; not rude, untaught, but fair and polished: in such thou dwellest, of such thou art the form; nor is it a thing more possible to separate thee from such, than it would be to separate thee from thy own existence."

My good friend was now arrived to a very exalted pitch, and was pursuing his panegyric with great warmth and fluency, when we entered the suburbs, our walk being near finished. The people, as we went along, began to look at us with surprise; which I, who was less engaged, having leisure to observe, thought it was proper to admonish my friend, that he should give over. He immediately ceased reading; put his papers up; and thanked me for stopping him at so seasonable a time.

VI. What remained of our discourse passed off with less

rapture, and was, indeed, no more than a kind of short recapitulation.

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He observed to me, that our inquiries had furnished out an answer to four different questions. For thus, said he, if it be asked us, What Art is? We have to answer, It is an habitual power in man of becoming the cause of some effect, according to a system of various and well-approved precepts." If it be asked us, On what subject art operates? We can answer, "On a contingent which is within the reach of the human powers to influence." If it be asked us, For what reason, for the sake of what, art operates? We may reply, "For the sake of some absent good, relative to human life, and attainable by man, but superior to his natural and uninstructed faculties." Lastly, if it be asked, Where it is the operations of art end? We may say, "Either in some energy, or in some work."

He added, that if he were not afraid of the imputation of pedantry, he could be almost tempted to say, that we had been considering art, with respect to those four causes, so celebrated once among professors in the schools. By these, upon inquiry, I found that he meant certain causes, called the efficient, the material, the final, and the formal."

r Page 8.
• Page 11.

t Page 16.

- That is to say, τὸ κινήσαν, ἡ Ὕλη, τὸ οὗ ἕνεκα, τὸ Εἶδος.

Thus Seneca, in his 65th epistle: Causam Aristoteles putat tribus modis dici. Prima, inquit, causa est ipsa materia, sine qua nihil potest effici. Secunda, opifex. Tertia, forma quæ unicuique operi imponitur, tanquam statuæ ; nam hanc Aristoteles idos (είδος) vocat. Quarta quoque, inquit, his accedit, propositum totius operis.

Quid sit hoc, aperiam. As prima statuæ causa est: nunquam enim facta esset, nisi fuisset id, ex quo ea funderetur, ducereturve. Secunda causa, artifex est: non potuisset enim æs illud in habitum statuæ figurari, nisi accessissent peritæ manus. Tertia causa est forma: neque enim statua ista Doryphoros aut Diadumenos vocaretur, nisi hæc illi esset impressa facies. Quarta causa est, faciendi propositum: nam nisi hoc fuisset, facta non esset. Quid est propositum? Quod invitavit artificem, quod ille secutus fecit. Vel pecunia est hoc, si venditurus fabricavit ; vel gloria, si laboravit in nomen ; vel religio, si donum templo paravit. Ergo et hæc causa est, propter quam fit. An non putas inter causas facti operis numerandum, quo remoto factum non esset.

Aristotle's own words are as follow: Ἕνα μὲν οὖν τρόπον αἴτιον λέγεται τὸ ἐξ οὗ γίνεταί τι ἐνυπάρχοντος· οἷον, ὁ χαλκός

τοῦ ἀνδριάντος, καὶ ὁ ἄργυρος της φιάλης,
καὶ τὰ τούτων γένη. Αλλον δὲ, τὸ εἶδος,
καὶ τὸ παράδειγμα· τοῦτο δ ̓ ἐστὶν ὁ λόγος
ὁ τοῦ τὶ ἦν εἶναι, καὶ τὰ τούτου γένη
οἷον τοῦ διὰ πασῶν τὰ δύο πρὸς ἐν, καὶ
ὅλως ὁ ἀριθμὸς, καὶ τὰ μέρη τὰ ἐν τῷ
λόγῳ. Ετι, ὅθεν ἡ ἀρχὴ τῆς μεταβολῆς
ἡ πρώτη, ἢ ἡ τῆς ἠρεμήσεως· οἷον ὁ βου-
λεύσας, αἴτιον· καὶ ὁ πατὴρ, τοῦ τέκνου·
καὶ ὅλως τὸ ποιοῦν τοῦ ποιουμένου, καὶ τὸ
μεταβάλλον τοῦ μεταβαλλομένου. Ετι,
ὡς τὸ τέλος· τοῦτο δ' ἐστὶ τὸ οὗ ἕνεκα·
οἷον τοῦ περιπατεῖν ἡ υγίεια· διὰ τὶ γὰρ
περιπατεῖ; φαμὲν ἵνα ὑγιαίνῃ, καὶ εἰπόν
τες οὕτως, οἰόμεθα ἀποδεδωκέναι τὸ αἴτιον.
"In one manner that may be called a
cause, out of which, existing as a part of it,
any thing is made or compounded. Thus
is brass the cause of a statue, silver of a
cup, and so also the higher genera, in which
these are included, [as metal, the genus in-
cluding brass and silver; body, the genus
including metal, &c. &c.] In another way,
the form and exemplar of any thing is its
cause; that is to say, in other words, the
definition, the detail or narrative of its
essence, [that which, characterizing it to be
such a particular thing, distinguishes it from
all things else,] and of this definition the
several higher genera. Thus the cause of
the diapason, or octave, is the proportion of
two to one; and more generally than that,
is number; and is moreover the several
parts, out of which this definition is formed.
Add to this cause, that other, from whence

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