THE HIGHEST GOOD OF MAN.

FROM ARISTOTLE'S TREATISE ON ETHICS.

[ARISTOTLE, the most distinguished of Grecian philosophers, born in Stagira, 384 B. C., died 322 B. C. He went to Athens when seventeen years old to pursue his studies under Plato, and resided there twenty years, becoming the teacher of Alexander the Great, whom he accompanied in several of his expeditions. Aristotle established a new school of philosophy, known as the Peripatetic, because he taught while walking up and down. Many of the numerous writings of Aristotle are lost, but enough remain to attest his great powers us a thinker and writer. He was the first to divide the animal kingdom into classes, and to discriminate between the several faculties and powers of the mind and body of man. He is called the creator of logic, which made no progress since Aristotle, the principles which he

laid down for it not having been superseded. His leading works are 66 Rhetoric," "Poetics," Ethics," "Politics," Organon or Logic," "History of Animals," "Physics,"

and "Metaphysics," which have been translated into all modern languages.]

Every art and every scientific system, and in like manner every cause of action and deliberate preference, seems to aim at some good; and consequently "the Good" has been well defined as "that which all things aim at."

But there appears to be a kind of difference in ends; for some are energies; others again beyond these, certain works; but wherever there are certain ends besides the actions, there the works are naturally better than the energies.

Now since there are many actions, arts, and sciences, it follows that there are many ends; for of medicine the end is health; of ship-building, a ship; of generalship, victory; of economy, wealth. But whatever of such arts are contained under any one faculty, (as for instance, under horsemanship is contained the art of making bridles, and all other horse furniture; and this and the whole art of war is contained under generalship; and in the same manner other arts are contained under different faculties ;) in all these the ends of the chief arts are more eligible than the ends of the subordinate ones; because for the sake of the former, the latter are pursued. It makes, however, no difference whether the energies themselves, or something else besides these, are the ends of actions, just as it would make no difference in the sciences above mentioned.

If, therefore, there is some end of all that we do, which we wish for on its own ac

count, and if we wish for all other things on account of this, and do not choose everything for the sake of something else (for thus we should go on to infinity, so that desire would be empty and vain), it is evident that this must be "the good," and the greatest good. Has not, then, the knowledge of this end a great influence on the conduct of life? and, like archers, shall we not be more likely to attain that which is right, if we have a mark? If so, we ought to en deavour to give an outline at least of its nature, and to determine to which of the sciences or faculties it belongs.

Now it would appear to be the end of that which is especially the chief and master science, and this seems to be the politi cal science, for it directs what sciences states ought to cultivate, what individuals should learn, and how far they should pursue them. We see, too, that the most valued faculties

are comprehended under it, as for example, generalship, economy, rhetoric. Since, then, this science makes use of the practical sciences, and legislates respecting what ought to be done, and what abstained from, its end must include those of the others; so that this end must be the good of man. For although the good of an individual and a state be the same, still that of a state appears more important and more perfect both to obtain and to preserve. To discover the good of an individual is satisfactory, but to discover that of a state or a nation is more noble and divine. This, then, is the object.of my treatise, which is of a political kind.

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Since all knowledge and every act of deliberate preference aims at some good, let us show what that is, which we say that the political science aims at, and what is the highest good of all things which are done. As to its name, indeed, almost all men are agreed; for both the vulgar and the educated call it happiness: but they suppose that to live well and do well are synonyms with being happy. But concerning the nature of happiness they are at variance, and the vulgar do not give the same definition of it as the educated; for some imagine it to be an obvious and well-known object-such as pleasure, or wealth, or honour; but different men think differently of it; and frequently even the same persor entertains different opinions respecting it at different times; for, when diseased, he believes it to be health; when poor, wealth; but, conscious of their own ignorance, they

admire those who say that it is something great and beyond them. Some, again, have supposed that besides these numerous goods, there is another self-existent good, which is to all these the cause of their being goods. Now, to examine all the opinions would perhaps be rather unprofitable; but it will be sufficient to examine those which lie most upon the surface, or seem to be most reasonable.

treasury of wonderful dreams, presentiments, second sight, ghosts, etc., well adapted to fascinate lovers of the marvellous. He died in 1876.]

It is in the annals of the doings and sufferings of the good and brave spirits of the earth that we should learn our lessons. It is by these that our hearts are mellowed, our minds exalted, and our souls nerved to go and do likewise. But there are occasionally circumstances connected with the Let it not, however, escape our notice, history of great crimes that render them the that arguments from principles differ from most impressive of homilies; fitting them arguments to principles, for well did Plato to be set aloft as beacons to warn away the also propose doubts on this point, and in-frail mortal, tossed on the tempest of his quire whether the right way is from princi- passions, from the destruction that awaits ples or to principles; just as in the course him if he pursues his course; and such infrom the starting-post to the goal, or the contrary. For we must begin from those things that are known; and things are known in two ways; for some are known to ourselves, others are generally known; perhaps, therefore, we should begin from the things known to ourselves.

Whoever, therefore, is to study with advantage the things which are honourable and just, and in a word the subjects of political science, must have been well and morally educated; for the point from whence we must begin is the fact, and if this is satisfactorily proved, it will be unnecessary to add the reason. Such a student possesses, or would easily acquire, the principles. But let him who possesses neither of these qualifications, hear the sentiments of Hesiod:

"Far does the man all other men excel,

Who, from his wisdom, thinks in all things well,
Wisely considering, to himself a friend,
All for the present best, and for the end.
Nor is the man without his share of praise,
Who well the dictates of the wise obeys:
But he that is not wise himself, nor can
Hearken to wisdom, is a useless man."

struction we hold may be best derived from those cases in which the subsequent feelings of a criminal are disclosed to us; those cases, in short, in which the chastisement proceeds from within instead of from without; that chastisement that no cunning concealment, no legal subtlety, no eloquent counsel, no indulgent judge can avert.

One of the features of our time-as of all

times, each of which is new in its generation-is the character of its crimes. Every phasis of human affairs, every advance in civilization, every shade of improvement in our material comforts and conveniences, gives rise to new modes and forms-nay, to actual new births-of crime, the germs of which were only waiting for a congenial soil to spring in; whilst others are but modifications of the old inventions accommodated to new circumstances.

There are thus stages in the history of crime indicative of ages. First, we have the heroic. At a very early period of a nation's annals, crime is bloody, bold, and resolute. Ambitious princes "make quick conveyance" with those who stand in the way of their advancement; and fierce barons slake their enmity and revenge in the blood of their foes, with little attempt at concealment, and no appearance of remorse. Next comes the age of strange murders, mysterious poisonings, and lifelong incarcerations; when the passions, yet rife, unsubdued by education and the practical influence of religion, and rebellious to the new restraints of law, seek their gratifi[MRS. CATHERINE CROWE, born in 1800, a copious wri- cation by hidden and tortuous methods. ter of English prose, has written "The Adventures of This is the romantic era of crime. But as Susan Hopley" (1841), and other stories. Her best known civilization advances, it descends to a lower work is "The Night Side of Nature; or, Ghosts and sphere, sheltering itself chiefly in the Ghost Seers" (1848), a collection of remarkable stories squalid districts of poverty and wretchedfounded largely on supernatural events. It is a curiousness; the last halo of the romantic and

STAGES IN THE HISTORY OF
CRIME.

heroic fades from it; and except where it is the result of brutal ignorance, its chief characteristic becomes astuteness.

But we are often struck by the strange tinge of romance which still colours the pages of continental criminal records, causing them to read like the annals of a pre

And closely caressing her child with a blessing,
Said: "I knew that the angels were whispering with
thee."

SAMUEL LOVER.

vious century. We think we perceive also PICTURE OF GREEN HEYS FIELDS.

a state of morals somewhat in arrear of the stage we have reached, and, certainly, some curious and very defective forms of law; and these two causes combined, seem to give rise to criminal enterprises which, in this country, could scarcely have been undertaken, or, if they were, must have been met with immediate detection and punish

ment.

There is also frequently a singular complication or imbroglio in the details, such as would be impossible in this island of daylight-for, enveloped in fog as we are physically, there is a greater glare thrown upon our actions here than among any other nation of the world perhaps an imbroglio that appears to fling the narrative back into the romantic era, and to indicate that it belongs to a stage of civilization we have already passed.

MANCHESTER.

66

There are some fields near Manchester, well known to the inhabitants as Green Heys Fields," through which runs a public footpath to a little village about two miles distant. In spite of these fields being flat and low-nay, in spite of the want of wood (the great and usual recommendation of level tracts of land), there is a charm about them which strikes even the inhabitant of a mountainous district, who sees and feels the effect of contrast in these commonplace but thoroughly rural fields, with the busy, bustling manufacturing town he left but half an hour ago. Here and there an old black and white farm-house, with its rambling outbuildings, speaks of other times and other occupations than those which now absorb the population of the neighbourhood. Here in their seasons may be seen the country business of haymaking, ploughing, &c., which are such pleasant mysteries for townspeople to watch; and here the artisan, deafened with noise of tongues and engines, may come to listen awhile to the delicious sounds of rural life-the lowing of cattle, the milkmaids' call, the clatter and cackle of poultry in the old farm-yards. You cannot wonder, then, that these fields are popAnd the tempest was swelling round the fisherman's ular places of resort at every holiday-time;

THE ANGEL'S WHISPER.

A baby was sleeping, its mother was weeping,
For her husband was far on the wild raging sea;

dwelling,

And she cried: "Dermot, darling, oh! come back to me."

Her beads while she numbered, the baby still slum

bered,

And smiled in her face while she bended her knee. "Oh! blest be that warning, my child, thy sleep adorning,

For I know that the angels are whispering with

thee.

and

would not wonder, if you could see, you or I properly describe, the charm of one particular stile, that it should be, on such occasions, a crowded halting place. Close by it is a deep, clear pond, reflecting in its dark-green depths the shadowy trees that bend over it to exclude the sun. The is on the side next to a rambling farm-yard, only place where its banks are shelving belonging to one of those old-world, gabled,

And while they are keeping bright watch o'er thy black and white houses I named above,

sleeping,

Oh! pray to them softly, my baby, with me;
And say thou wouldst rather they'd watch o'er thy

fatner,

For I know that the angels are whispering with

thee."

The dawn of the morning saw Dermot returning,

And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see.

overlooking the field through which the public footpath leads. The porch of this farm-house is covered by a rose-tree; and the little garden surrounding it is crowded with a medley of old-fashioned herbs and flowers, planted long ago, when the garden was the only druggist's shop within reach, and allowed to grow in scrambling and wild