The Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle

INTRODUCTION

The Ethics of Aristotle is one half of a single treatise of which his
Politics is the other half. Both deal with one and the same subject.
This subject is what Aristotle calls in one place the “philosophy of
human affairs;” but more frequently Political or Social Science. In the
two works taken together we have their author’s whole theory of human
conduct or practical activity, that is, of all human activity which is not
directed merely to knowledge or truth. The two parts of this treatise are
mutually complementary, but in a literary sense each is independent and
self-contained. The proem to the Ethics is an introduction to the whole
subject, not merely to the first part; the last chapter of the Ethics
points forward to the Politics, and sketches for that part of the
treatise the order of enquiry to be pursued (an order which in the actual
treatise is not adhered to).

The principle of distribution of the subject-matter between the two works is
far from obvious, and has been much debated. Not much can be gathered from
their titles, which in any case were not given to them by their author. Nor do
these titles suggest any very compact unity in the works to which they are
applied: the plural forms, which survive so oddly in English (Ethics,
Politics), were intended to indicate the treatment within a single work
of a group of connected questions. The unity of the first group arises
from their centring round the topic of character, that of the second from their
connection with the existence and life of the city or state. We have thus to
regard the Ethics as dealing with one group of problems and the
Politics with a second, both falling within the wide compass of
Political Science. Each of these groups falls into sub-groups which roughly
correspond to the several books in each work. The tendency to take up one by
one the various problems which had suggested themselves in the wide field
obscures both the unity of the subject-matter and its proper articulation. But
it is to be remembered that what is offered us is avowedly rather an enquiry
than an exposition of hard and fast doctrine.

Nevertheless each work aims at a relative completeness, and it is important to
observe the relation of each to the other. The distinction is not that the one
treats of Moral and the other of Political Philosophy, nor again that the one
deals with the moral activity of the individual and the other with that of the
State, nor once more that the one gives us the theory of human conduct, while
the other discusses its application in practice, though not all of these
misinterpretations are equally erroneous. The clue to the right interpretation
is given by Aristotle himself, where in the last chapter of the Ethics
he is paving the way for the Politics. In the Ethics he has not
confined himself to the abstract or isolated individual, but has always thought
of him, or we might say, in his social and political context, with a given
nature due to race and heredity and in certain surroundings. So viewing him he
has studied the nature and formation of his character—all that he can
make himself or be made by others to be. Especially he has investigated the
various admirable forms of human character and the mode of their production.
But all this, though it brings more clearly before us what goodness or virtue
is, and how it is to be reached, remains mere theory or talk. By itself it does
not enable us to become, or to help others to become, good. For this it is
necessary to bring into play the great force of the Political Community or
State, of which the main instrument is Law. Hence arises the demand for the
necessary complement to the Ethics, i.e., a treatise devoted to the
questions which centre round the enquiry; by what organisation of social or
political forces, by what laws or institutions can we best secure the greatest
amount of good character?

We must, however, remember that the production of good character is not the end
of either individual or state action: that is the aim of the one and the other
because good character is the indispensable condition and chief determinant of
happiness, itself the goal of all human doing. The end of all action,
individual or collective, is the greatest happiness of the greatest number.
There is, Aristotle insists, no difference of kind between the good of one and
the good of many or all. The sole difference is one of amount or scale. This
does not mean simply that the State exists to secure in larger measure the
objects of degree which the isolated individual attempts, but is too feeble, to
secure without it. On the contrary, it rather insists that whatever goods
society alone enables a man to secure have always had to the
individual—whether he realised it or not—the value which, when so
secured, he recognises them to possess. The best and happiest life for the
individual is that which the State renders possible, and this it does mainly by
revealing to him the value of new objects of desire and educating him to
appreciate them. To Aristotle or to Plato the State is, above all, a large and
powerful educative agency which gives the individual increased opportunities of
self-development and greater capacities for the enjoyment of life.

Looking forward, then, to the life of the State as that which aids support, and
combines the efforts of the individual to obtain happiness, Aristotle draws no
hard and fast distinction between the spheres of action of Man as individual
and Man as citizen. Nor does the division of his discussion into the
Ethics and the Politics rest upon any such distinction. The
distinction implied is rather between two stages in the life of the civilised
man—the stage of preparation for the full life of the adult citizen, and
the stage of the actual exercise or enjoyment of citizenship. Hence the
Ethics, where his attention is directed upon the formation of character,
is largely and centrally a treatise on Moral Education. It discusses especially
those admirable human qualities which fit a man for life in an organised civic
community, which makes him “a good citizen,” and considers how they
can be fostered or created and their opposites prevented.

This is the kernel of the Ethics, and all the rest is subordinate to
this main interest and purpose. Yet “the rest” is not irrelevant;
the whole situation in which character grows and operates is concretely
conceived. There is a basis of what we should call Psychology, sketched in firm
outlines, the deeper presuppositions and the wider issues of human character
and conduct are not ignored, and there is no little of what we should call
Metaphysics. But neither the Psychology nor the Metaphysics is elaborated, and
only so much is brought forward as appears necessary to put the main facts in
their proper perspective and setting. It is this combination of width of
outlook with close observation of the concrete facts of conduct which gives its
abiding value to the work, and justifies the view of it as containing
Aristotle’s Moral Philosophy. Nor is it important merely as summing up
the moral judgments and speculations of an age now long past. It seizes and
dwells upon those elements and features in human practice which are most
essential and permanent, and it is small wonder that so much in it survives in
our own ways of regarding conduct and speaking of it. Thus it still remains one
of the classics of Moral Philosophy, nor is its value likely soon to be
exhausted.

As was pointed out above, the proem (Book I., cc. i-iii.) is a prelude to the
treatment of the whole subject covered by the Ethics and the
Politics together. It sets forth the purpose of the enquiry, describes
the spirit in which it is to be undertaken and what ought to be the expectation
of the reader, and lastly states the necessary conditions of studying it with
profit. The aim of it is the acquisition and propagation of a certain kind of
knowledge (science), but this knowledge and the thinking which brings it about
are subsidiary to a practical end. The knowledge aimed at is of what is best
for man and of the conditions of its realisation. Such knowledge is that which
in its consumate form we find in great statesmen, enabling them to organise and
administer their states and regulate by law the life of the citizens to their
advantage and happiness, but it is the same kind of knowledge which on a
smaller scale secures success in the management of the family or of private
life.

It is characteristic of such knowledge that it should be deficient in
“exactness,” in precision of statement, and closeness of logical
concatenation. We must not look for a mathematics of conduct. The
subject-matter of Human Conduct is not governed by necessary and uniform laws.
But this does not mean that it is subject to no laws. There are general
principles at work in it, and these can be formulated in “rules,”
which rules can be systematised or unified. It is all-important to remember
that practical or moral rules are only general and always admit of exceptions,
and that they arise not from the mere complexity of the facts, but from the
liability of the facts to a certain unpredictable variation. At their very
best, practical rules state probabilities, not certainties; a relative
constancy of connection is all that exists, but it is enough to serve as a
guide in life. Aristotle here holds the balance between a misleading hope of
reducing the subject-matter of conduct to a few simple rigorous abstract
principles, with conclusions necessarily issuing from them, and the view that
it is the field of operation of inscrutable forces acting without predictable
regularity. He does not pretend to find in it absolute uniformities, or to
deduce the details from his principles. Hence, too, he insists on the necessity
of experience as the source or test of all that he has to say. Moral
experience—the actual possession and exercise of good character—is
necessary truly to understand moral principles and profitably to apply them.
The mere intellectual apprehension of them is not possible, or if possible,
profitless.

The Ethics is addressed to students who are presumed both to have enough
general education to appreciate these points, and also to have a solid
foundation of good habits. More than that is not required for the profitable
study of it.

If the discussion of the nature and formation of character be regarded as the
central topic of the Ethics, the contents of Book I., cc. iv.-xii. may
be considered as still belonging to the introduction and setting, but these
chapters contain matter of profound importance and have exercised an enormous
influence upon subsequent thought. They lay down a principle which governs all
Greek thought about human life, viz. that it is only intelligible when viewed
as directed towards some end or good. This is the Greek way of expressing that
all human life involves an ideal element—something which it is not yet
and which under certain conditions it is to be. In that sense Greek Moral
Philosophy is essentially idealistic. Further it is always assumed that all
human practical activity is directed or “oriented” to a
single end, and that that end is knowable or definable in advance of its
realisation. To know it is not merely a matter of speculative interest, it is
of the highest practical moment for only in the light of it can life be duly
guided, and particularly only so can the state be properly organised and
administered. This explains the stress laid throughout by Greek Moral
Philosophy upon the necessity of knowledge as a condition of the best life.
This knowledge is not, though it includes knowledge of the nature of man and
his circumstances, it is knowledge of what is best—of man’s supreme
end or good.

But this end is not conceived as presented to him by a superior power nor even
as something which ought to be. The presentation of the Moral Ideal as
Duty is almost absent. From the outset it is identified with the object of
desire, of what we not merely judge desirable but actually do desire, or that
which would, if realised, satisfy human desire. In fact it is what we all, wise
and simple, agree in naming “Happiness” (Welfare or Well-being)

In what then does happiness consist? Aristotle summarily sets aside the more or
less popular identifications of it with abundance of physical pleasures, with
political power and honour, with the mere possession of such superior gifts or
attainments as normally entitle men to these, with wealth. None of these can
constitute the end or good of man as such. On the other hand, he rejects his
master Plato’s conception of a good which is the end of the whole
universe, or at least dismisses it as irrelevant to his present enquiry. The
good towards which all human desires and practical activities are directed must
be one conformable to man’s special nature and circumstances and
attainable by his efforts. There is in Aristotle’s theory of human
conduct no trace of Plato’s “other worldliness”, he brings
the moral ideal in Bacon’s phrase down to “right
earth”—and so closer to the facts and problems of actual human
living. Turning from criticism of others he states his own positive view of
Happiness, and, though he avowedly states it merely in outline his account is
pregnant with significance. Human Happiness lies in activity or energising, and
that in a way peculiar to man with his given nature and his given
circumstances, it is not theoretical, but practical: it is the activity not of
reason but still of a being who possesses reason and applies it, and it
presupposes in that being the development, and not merely the natural
possession, of certain relevant powers and capacities. The last is the prime
condition of successful living and therefore of satisfaction, but Aristotle
does not ignore other conditions, such as length of life, wealth and good luck,
the absence or diminution of which render happiness not impossible, but
difficult of attainment.

It is interesting to compare this account of Happiness with Mill’s in
Utilitarianism. Mill’s is much the less consistent: at times he
distinguishes and at times he identifies, happiness, pleasure, contentment, and
satisfaction. He wavers between belief in its general attainability and an
absence of hopefulness. He mixes up in an arbitrary way such ingredients as
“not expecting more from life than it is capable of bestowing,”
“mental cultivation,” “improved laws,” etc., and in
fact leaves the whole conception vague, blurred, and uncertain. Aristotle draws
the outline with a firmer hand and presents a more definite ideal. He allows
for the influence on happiness of conditions only partly, if at all, within the
control of man, but he clearly makes the man positive determinant of
man’s happiness he in himself, and more particularly in what he makes
directly of his own nature, and so indirectly of his circumstances.
“‘Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus” But once more
this does not involve an artificial or abstract isolation of the individual
moral agent from his relation to other persons or things from his context in
society and nature, nor ignore the relative dependence of his life upon a
favourable environment.

The main factor which determines success or failure in human life is the
acquisition of certain powers, for Happiness is just the exercise or putting
forth of these in actual living, everything else is secondary and subordinate.
These powers arise from the due development of certain natural aptitudes which
belong (in various degrees) to human nature as such and therefore to all normal
human beings. In their developed form they are known as virtues (the Greek
means simply “goodnesses,” “perfections,”
“excellences,” or “fitnesses”), some of them are
physical, but others are psychical, and among the latter some, and these
distinctively or peculiarly human, are “rational,” i e,
presuppose the possession and exercise of mind or intelligence. These last fall
into two groups, which Aristotle distinguishes as Goodnesses of Intellect and
Goodnesses of Character. They have in common that they all excite in us
admiration and praise of their possessors, and that they are not natural
endowments, but acquired characteristics But they differ in important ways. (1)
the former are excellences or developed powers of the reason as such—of
that in us which sees and formulates laws, rules, regularities systems, and is
content in the vision of them, while the latter involve a submission or
obedience to such rules of something in us which is in itself capricious and
irregular, but capable of regulation, viz our instincts and feelings, (2) the
former are acquired by study and instruction, the latter by discipline. The
latter constitute “character,” each of them as a “moral
virtue” (literally “a goodness of character”), and upon them
primarily depends the realisation of happiness. This is the case at least for
the great majority of men, and for all men their possession is an indispensable
basis of the best, i e, the most desirable life. They form the chief or
central subject-matter of the Ethics.

Perhaps the truest way of conceiving Aristotle’s meaning here is to
regard a moral virtue as a form of obedience to a maxim or rule of conduct
accepted by the agent as valid for a class of recurrent situations in human
life. Such obedience requires knowledge of the rule and acceptance of it as
the rule of the agent’s own actions, but not necessarily knowledge of
its ground or of its systematic connexion with other similarly known and
similarly accepted rules (It may be remarked that the Greek word usually
translated “reason,” means in almost all cases in the Ethics
such a rule, and not the faculty which apprehends, formulates, considers them).

The “moral virtues and vices” make up what we call character, and
the important questions arise: (1) What is character? and (2) How is it formed?
(for character in this sense is not a natural endowment; it is formed or
produced). Aristotle deals with these questions in the reverse order. His
answers are peculiar and distinctive—not that they are absolutely novel
(for they are anticipated in Plato), but that by him they are for the first
time distinctly and clearly formulated.

(1.) Character, good or bad, is produced by what Aristotle calls
“habituation,” that is, it is the result of the repeated doing of
acts which have a similar or common quality. Such repetition acting upon
natural aptitudes or propensities gradually fixes them in one or other of two
opposite directions, giving them a bias towards good or evil. Hence the several
acts which determine goodness or badness of character must be done in a certain
way, and thus the formation of good character requires discipline and direction
from without. Not that the agent himself contributes nothing to the formation
of his character, but that at first he needs guidance. The point is not so much
that the process cannot be safely left to Nature, but that it cannot be
entrusted to merely intellectual instruction. The process is one of
assimilation, largely by imitation and under direction and control. The result
is a growing understanding of what is done, a choice of it for its own sake, a
fixity and steadiness of purpose. Right acts and feelings become, through
habit, easier and more pleasant, and the doing of them a “second
nature.” The agent acquires the power of doing them freely, willingly,
more and more “of himself.”

But what are “right” acts? In the first place, they are those that
conform to a rule—to the right rule, and ultimately to reason. The Greeks
never waver from the conviction that in the end moral conduct is essentially
reasonable conduct. But there is a more significant way of describing their
“rightness,” and here for the first time Aristotle introduces his
famous “Doctrine of the Mean.” Reasoning from the analogy of
“right” physical acts, he pronounces that rightness always means
adaptation or adjustment to the special requirements of a situation. To this
adjustment he gives a quantitative interpretation. To do (or to feel) what is
right in a given situation is to do or to feel just the amount
required—neither more nor less: to do wrong is to do or to feel too much
or too little—to fall short of or over-shoot, “a mean”
determined by the situation. The repetition of acts which lie in the mean is
the cause of the formation of each and every “goodness of
character,” and for this “rules” can be given.

(2) What then is a “moral virtue,” the result of such a process
duly directed? It is no mere mood of feeling, no mere liability to emotion, no
mere natural aptitude or endowment, it is a permanent state of the
agent’s self, or, as we might in modern phrase put it, of his will, it
consists in a steady self-imposed obedience to a rule of action in certain
situations which frequently recur in human life. The rule prescribes the
control and regulation within limits of the agent’s natural impulses to
act and feel thus and thus. The situations fall into groups which constitute
the “fields” of the several “moral virtues”, for each
there is a rule, conformity to which secures rightness in the individual acts.
Thus the moral ideal appears as a code of rules, accepted by the agent, but as
yet to him without rational justification and without system or unity.
But the rules prescribe no mechanical uniformity: each within its limits
permits variety, and the exactly right amount adopted to the requirements of
the individual situation (and every actual situation is individual) must be
determined by the intuition of the moment. There is no attempt to reduce the
rich possibilities of right action to a single monotonous type. On the
contrary, there are acknowledged to be many forms of moral virtue, and there is
a long list of them, with their correlative vices enumerated.

The Doctrine of the Mean here takes a form in which it has impressed subsequent
thinkers, but which has less importance than is usually ascribed to it. In the
“Table of the Virtues and Vices,” each of the virtues is flanked by
two opposite vices, which are respectively the excess and defect of that which
in due measure constitutes the virtue. Aristotle tries to show that this is the
case in regard to every virtue named and recognised as such, but his treatment
is often forced and the endeavour is not very successful. Except as a
convenient principle of arrangement of the various forms of praiseworthy or
blameworthy characters, generally acknowledged as such by Greek opinion, this
form of the doctrine is of no great significance.

Books III-V are occupied with a survey of the moral virtues and vices. These
seem to have been undertaken in order to verify in detail the general account,
but this aim is not kept steadily in view. Nor is there any well-considered
principle of classification. What we find is a sort of portrait-gallery of the
various types of moral excellence which the Greeks of the author’s age
admired and strove to encourage. The discussion is full of acute, interesting
and sometimes profound observations. Some of the types are those which are and
will be admired at all times, but others are connected with peculiar features
of Greek life which have now passed away. The most important is that of Justice
or the Just Man, to which we may later return. But the discussion is preceded
by an attempt to elucidate some difficult and obscure points in the general
account of moral virtue and action (Book III, cc i-v). This section is
concerned with the notion of Responsibility. The discussion designedly excludes
what we may call the metaphysical issues of the problem, which here present
themselves, it moves on the level of thought of the practical man, the
statesman, and the legislator. Coercion and ignorance of relevant circumstances
render acts involuntary and exempt their doer from responsibility, otherwise
the act is voluntary and the agent responsible, choice or preference of what is
done, and inner consent to the deed, are to be presumed. Neither passion nor
ignorance of the right rule can extenuate responsibility. But there is a
difference between acts done voluntarily and acts done of set choice or
purpose. The latter imply Deliberation. Deliberation involves thinking,
thinking out means to ends: in deliberate acts the whole nature of the agent
consents to and enters into the act, and in a peculiar sense they are his, they
are him in action, and the most significant evidence of what he is.
Aristotle is unable wholly to avoid allusion to the metaphysical difficulties
and what he does here say upon them is obscure and unsatisfactory. But he
insists upon the importance in moral action of the agent’s inner consent,
and on the reality of his individual responsibility. For his present purpose
the metaphysical difficulties are irrelevant.

The treatment of Justice in Book V has always been a source of great difficulty
to students of the Ethics. Almost more than any other part of the work
it has exercised influence upon mediaeval and modern thought upon the subject.
The distinctions and divisions have become part of the stock-in-trade of would
be philosophic jurists. And yet, oddly enough, most of these distinctions have
been misunderstood and the whole purport of the discussion misconceived.
Aristotle is here dealing with justice in a restricted sense viz as that
special goodness of character which is required of every adult citizen and
which can be produced by early discipline or habituation. It is the temper or
habitual attitude demanded of the citizen for the due exercise of his functions
as taking part in the administration of the civic community—as a member
of the judicature and executive. The Greek citizen was only exceptionally, and
at rare intervals if ever, a law-maker while at any moment he might be called
upon to act as a judge (juryman or arbitrator) or as an administrator. For the
work of a legislator far more than the moral virtue of justice or
fairmindedness was necessary, these were requisite to the rarer and higher
“intellectual virtue” of practical wisdom. Then here, too, the
discussion moves on a low level, and the raising of fundamental problems is
excluded. Hence “distributive justice” is concerned not with the
large question of the distribution of political power and privileges among the
constituent members or classes of the state but with the smaller questions of
the distribution among those of casual gains and even with the division among
private claimants of a common fund or inheritance, while “corrective
justice” is concerned solely with the management of legal redress. The
whole treatment is confused by the unhappy attempt to give a precise
mathematical form to the principles of justice in the various fields
distinguished. Still it remains an interesting first endeavour to give greater
exactness to some of the leading conceptions of jurisprudence.

Book VI appears to have in view two aims: (1) to describe goodness of intellect
and discover its highest form or forms; (2) to show how this is related to
goodness of character, and so to conduct generally. As all thinking is either
theoretical or practical, goodness of intellect has two supreme
forms—Theoretical and Practical Wisdom. The first, which apprehends the
eternal laws of the universe, has no direct relation to human conduct: the
second is identical with that master science of human life of which the whole
treatise, consisting of the Ethics and the Politics, is an
exposition. It is this science which supplies the right rules of conduct Taking
them as they emerge in and from practical experience, it formulates them more
precisely and organises them into a system where they are all seen to converge
upon happiness. The mode in which such knowledge manifests itself is in the
power to show that such and such rules of action follow from the very nature of
the end or good for man. It presupposes and starts from a clear conception of
the end and the wish for it as conceived, and it proceeds by a deduction which
is dehberation writ large. In the man of practical wisdom this process has
reached its perfect result, and the code of right rules is apprehended as a
system with a single principle and so as something wholly rational or
reasonable He has not on each occasion to seek and find the right rule
applicable to the situation, he produces it at once from within himself, and
can at need justify it by exhibiting its rationale, i.e. , its
connection with the end. This is the consummate form of reason applied to
conduct, but there are minor forms of it, less independent or original, but
nevertheless of great value, such as the power to think out the proper cause of
policy in novel circumstances or the power to see the proper line of treatment
to follow in a court of law.

The form of the thinking which enters into conduct is that which terminates in
the production of a rule which declares some means to the end of life. The
process presupposes (a) a clear and just apprehension of the nature of
that end—such as the Ethics itself endeavours to supply;
(b) a correct perception of the conditions of action, (a) at
least is impossible except to a man whose character has been duly formed by
discipline; it arises only in a man who has acquired moral virtue. For such
action and feeling as forms bad character, blinds the eye of the soul and
corrupts the moral principle, and the place of practical wisdom is taken by
that parody of itself which Aristotle calls “cleverness”—the
“wisdom” of the unscrupulous man of the world. Thus true practical
wisdom and true goodness of character are interdependent; neither is genuinely
possible or “completely” present without the other. This is
Aristotle’s contribution to the discussion of the question, so central in
Greek Moral Philosophy, of the relation of the intellectual and the passionate
factors in conduct.

Aristotle is not an intuitionist, but he recognises the implication in conduct
of a direct and immediate apprehension both of the end and of the character of
his circumstances under which it is from moment to moment realised. The
directness of such apprehension makes it analogous to sensation or
sense-perception; but it is on his view in the end due to the existence or
activity in man of that power in him which is the highest thing in his nature,
and akin to or identical with the divine nature—mind, or intelligence. It
is this which reveals to us what is best for us—the ideal of a happiness
which is the object of our real wish and the goal of all our efforts. But
beyond and above the practical ideal of what is best for man begins to
show itself another and still higher ideal—that of a life not
distinctively human or in a narrow sense practical, yet capable of being
participated in by man even under the actual circumstances of this world. For a
time, however, this further and higher ideal is ignored.

The next book (Book VII.), is concerned partly with moral conditions, in which
the agent seems to rise above the level of moral virtue or fall below that of
moral vice, but partly and more largely with conditions in which the agent
occupies a middle position between the two. Aristotle’s attention is here
directed chiefly towards the phenomena of “Incontinence,” weakness
of will or imperfect self-control. This condition was to the Greeks a matter of
only too frequent experience, but it appeared to them peculiarly difficult to
understand. How can a man know what is good or best for him, and yet
chronically fail to act upon his knowledge? Socrates was driven to the paradox
of denying the possibility, but the facts are too strong for him. Knowledge of
the right rule may be present, nay the rightfulness of its authority may be
acknowledged, and yet time after time it may be disobeyed; the will may be good
and yet overmastered by the force of desire, so that the act done is contrary
to the agent’s will. Nevertheless the act may be the agent’s, and
the will therefore divided against itself. Aristotle is aware of the
seriousness and difficulty of the problem, but in spite of the vividness with
which he pictures, and the acuteness with which he analyses, the situation in
which such action occurs, it cannot be said that he solves the problem. It is
time that he rises above the abstract view of it as a conflict between reason
and passion, recognising that passion is involved in the knowledge which in
conduct prevails or is overborne, and that the force which leads to the wrong
act is not blind or ignorant passion, but always has some reason in it. But he
tends to lapse back into the abstraction, and his final account is perplexed
and obscure. He finds the source of the phenomenon in the nature of the desire
for bodily pleasures, which is not irrational but has something rational in it.
Such pleasures are not necessarily or inherently bad, as has sometimes been
maintained; on the contrary, they are good, but only in certain amounts or
under certain conditions, so that the will is often misled, hesitates, and is
lost.

Books VIII. and IX. (on Friendship) are almost an interruption of the argument.
The subject-matter of them was a favourite topic of ancient writers, and the
treatment is smoother and more orderly than elsewhere in the Ethics. The
argument is clear, and may be left without comment to the readers. These books
contain a necessary and attractive complement to the somewhat dry account of
Greek morality in the preceding books, and there are in them profound
reflections on what may be called the metaphysics of friendship or love.

At the beginning of Book X. we return to the topic of Pleasure, which is now
regarded from a different point of view. In Book VII. the antagonists were
those who over-emphasised the irrationality or badness of Pleasure: here it is
rather those who so exaggerate its value as to confuse or identify it with the
good or Happiness. But there is offered us in this section much more than
criticism of the errors of others. Answers are given both to the psychological
question, “What is Pleasure?” and to the ethical question,
“What is its value?” Pleasure, we are told, is the natural
concomitant and index of perfect activity, distinguishable but inseparable from
it—“the activity of a subject at its best acting upon an object at
its best.” It is therefore always and in itself a good, but its value
rises and falls with that of the activity with which it is conjoined, and which
it intensifies and perfects. Hence it follows that the highest and best
pleasures are those which accompany the highest and best activity.

Pleasure is, therefore, a necessary element in the best life, but it is not the
whole of it nor the principal ingredient. The value of a life depends upon the
nature and worth of the activity which it involves; given the maximum of full
free action, the maximum of pleasure necessary follows. But on what sort of
life is such activity possible? This leads us back to the question, What is
happiness? In what life can man find the fullest satisfaction for his desires?
To this question Aristotle gives an answer which cannot but surprise us after
what has preceded. True Happiness, great satisfaction, cannot be found by man
in any form of “practical” life, no, not in the fullest and freest
exercise possible of the “moral virtues,” not in the life of the
citizen or of the great soldier or statesman. To seek it there is to court
failure and disappointment. It is to be found in the life of the onlooker, the
disinterested spectator; or, to put it more distinctly, “in the life of
the philosopher, the life of scientific and philosophic contemplation.”
The highest and most satisfying form of life possible to man is “the
contemplative life”; it is only in a secondary sense and for those
incapable of their life, that the practical or moral ideal is the best. It is
time that such a life is not distinctively human, but it is the privilege of
man to partake in it, and such participation, at however rare intervals and for
however short a period, is the highest Happiness which human life can offer.
All other activities have value only because and in so far as they render
this life possible.

But it must not be forgotten that Aristotle conceives of this life as one of
intense activity or energising: it is just this which gives it its supremacy.
In spite of the almost religious fervour with which he speaks of it (“the
most orthodox of his disciples” paraphrases his meaning by describing its
content as “the service and vision of God”), it is clear that he
identified it with the life of the philosopher, as he understood it, a life of
ceaseless intellectual activity in which at least at times all the distractions
and disturbances inseparable from practical life seemed to disappear and become
as nothing. This ideal was partly an inheritance from the more ardent idealism
of his master Plato, but partly it was the expression of personal experience.

The nobility of this ideal cannot be questioned; the conception of the end of
man or a life lived for truth—of a life blissfully absorbed in the vision
of truth—is a lofty and inspiring one. But we cannot resist certain
criticisms upon its presentation by Aristotle: (1) the relation of it to the
lower ideal of practice is left somewhat obscure; (2) it is described in such a
way as renders its realisation possible only to a gifted few, and under
exceptional circumstances; (3) it seems in various ways, as regards its
content, to be unnecessarily and unjustifiably limited. But it must be borne in
mind that this is a first endeavour to determine its principle, and that
similar failures have attended the attempts to describe the
“religious” or the “spiritual” ideals of life, which
have continually been suggested by the apparently inherent limitations of the
“practical” or “moral” life, which is the subject of
Moral Philosophy.

The Moral Ideal to those who have most deeply reflected on it leads to the
thought of an Ideal beyond and above it, which alone gives it meaning, but
which seems to escape from definite conception by man. The richness and variety
of this Ideal ceaselessly invite, but as ceaselessly defy, our attempts to
imprison it in a definite formula or portray it in detailed imagination. Yet
the thought of it is and remains inexpungable from our minds.

This conception of the best life is not forgotten in the Politics The
end of life in the state is itself well-living and well-doing—a life
which helps to produce the best life The great agency in the production of such
life is the State operating through Law, which is Reason backed by Force. For
its greatest efficiency there is required the development of a science of
legislation. The main drift of what he says here is that the most desirable
thing would be that the best reason of the community should be embodied in its
laws. But so far as that is not possible, it still is true that anyone who
would make himself and others better must become a miniature
legislator—must study the general principles of law, morality, and
education. The conception of πολιτικὴ
with which he opened the Ethics would serve as a guide to a father
educating his children as well as to the legislator legislating for the state.
Finding in his predecessors no developed doctrine on this subject, Aristotle
proposes himself to undertake the construction of it, and sketches in advance
the programme of the Politics in the concluding sentence of the
Ethics His ultimate object is to answer the questions, What is the best
form of Polity, how should each be constituted, and what laws and customs
should it adopt and employ? Not till this answer is given will “the
philosophy of human affairs” be complete.

On looking back it will be seen that the discussion of the central topic of the
nature and formation of character has expanded into a Philosophy of Human
Conduct, merging at its beginning and end into metaphysics The result is a
Moral Philosophy set against a background of Political Theory and general
Philosophy. The most characteristic features of this Moral Philosophy are due
to the fact of its essentially teleological view of human life and action: (1)
Every human activity, but especially every human practical activity, is
directed towards a simple End discoverable by reflection, and this End is
conceived of as the object of universal human desire, as something to be
enjoyed, not as something which ought to be done or enacted. Anstotle’s
Moral Philosophy is not hedonistic but it is eudæmomstic, the end is the
enjoyment of Happiness, not the fulfilment of Duty. (2) Every human practical
activity derives its value from its efficiency as a means to that end, it is
good or bad, right or wrong, as it conduces or fails to conduce to Happiness
Thus his Moral Philosophy is essentially utilitarian or prudential Right action
presupposes Thought or Thinking, partly on the development of a clearer and
distincter conception of the end of desire, partly as the deduction from that
of rules which state the normally effective conditions of its realisation. The
thinking involved in right conduct is calculation—calculation of means to
an end fixed by nature and foreknowable Action itself is at its best just the
realisation of a scheme preconceived and thought out beforehand, commending
itself by its inherent attractiveness or promise of enjoyment.

This view has the great advantage of exhibiting morality as essentially
reasonable, but the accompanying disadvantage of lowering it into a somewhat
prosaic and unideal Prudentialism, nor is it saved from this by the tacking on
to it, by a sort of after-thought, of the second and higher Ideal—an
addition which ruins the coherence of the account without really transmuting
its substance The source of our dissatisfaction with the whole theory lies
deeper than in its tendency to identify the end with the maximum of enjoyment
or satisfaction, or to regard the goodness or badness of acts and feelings as
lying solely in their efficacy to produce such a result It arises from the
application to morality of the distinction of means and end For this
distinction, for all its plausibility and usefulness in ordinary thought and
speech, cannot finally be maintained In morality—and this is vital to its
character—everything is both means and end, and so neither in distinction
or separation, and all thinking about it which presupposes the finality of this
distinction wanders into misconception and error. The thinking which really
matters in conduct is not a thinking which imaginatively forecasts ideals which
promise to fulfil desire, or calculates means to their attainment—that is
sometimes useful, sometimes harmful, and always subordinate, but thinking which
reveals to the agent the situation in which he is to act, both, that is, the
universal situation on which as man he always and everywhere stands, and the
ever-varying and ever-novel situation in which he as this individual, here and
now, finds himself. In such knowledge of given or historic fact lie the natural
determinants of his conduct, in such knowledge alone lies the condition of his
freedom and his good.

But this does not mean that Moral Philosophy has not still much to learn from
Aristotle’s Ethics. The work still remains one of the best
introductions to a study of its important subject-matter, it spreads before us
a view of the relevant facts, it reduces them to manageable compass and order,
it raises some of the central problems, and makes acute and valuable
suggestions towards their solution. Above all, it perpetually incites to
renewed and independent reflection upon them.

J. A. SMITH

The following is a list of the works of Aristotle:—

First edition of works (with omission of Rhetorica, Poetica, and second book of
Economica), 5 vols by Aldus Manutius, Venice, 1495 8, re impression supervised
by Erasmus and with certain corrections by Grynaeus (including Rhetorica and
Poetica), 1531, 1539, revised 1550, later editions were followed by that of
Immanuel Bekker and Brandis (Greek and Latin), 5 vols. The 5th vol contains the
Index by Bomtz, 1831-70, Didot edition (Greek and Latin), 5 vols 1848 74

ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS Edited by T Taylor, with Porphyry’s Introduction, 9
vols, 1812, under editorship of J A Smith and W D Ross, II vols, 1908-31, Loeb
editions Ethica, Rhetorica, Poetica, Physica, Politica, Metaphysica, 1926-33

Later editions of separate works De Anima Torstrik, 1862, Trendelenburg,
2nd edition, 1877, with English translation, L Wallace, 1882, Biehl, 1884,
1896, with English, R D Hicks, 1907 Ethica J S Brewer (Nicomachean),
1836, W E Jelf, 1856, J F T Rogers, 1865, A Grant, 1857 8, 1866, 1874, 1885, E
Moore, 1871, 1878, 4th edition, 1890, Ramsauer (Nicomachean), 1878, Susemihl,
1878, 1880, revised by O Apelt, 1903, A Grant, 1885, I Bywater (Nicomachean),
1890, J Burnet, 1900

Historia Animalium Schneider, 1812, Aubert and Wimmer, 1860; Dittmeyer,
1907

Metaphysica Schwegler, 1848, W Christ, 1899

Organon Waitz, 1844 6

Poetica Vahlen, 1867, 1874, with Notes by E Moore, 1875, with English
translation by E R Wharton, 1883, 1885, Uberweg, 1870, 1875, with German
translation, Susemihl, 1874, Schmidt, 1875, Christ, 1878, I Bywater, 1898, T G
Tucker, 1899

De Republica Athenientium Text and facsimile of Papyrus, F G Kenyon,
1891, 3rd edition, 1892, Kaibel and Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, 1891, 3rd edition,
1898, Van Herwerden and Leeuwen (from Kenyon’s text), 1891, Blass, 1892,
1895, 1898, 1903, J E Sandys, 1893

Politica Susemihl, 1872, with German, 1878, 3rd edition, 1882, Susemihl
and Hicks, 1894, etc, O Immisch, 1909

Physica C Prantl, 1879

Rhetorica Stahr, 1862, Sprengel (with Latin text), 1867, Cope and
Sandys, 1877, Roemer, 1885, 1898

ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS OF ONE OR MORE WORKS De Anima (with Parva Naturalia), by W
A Hammond, 1902 Ethica Of Morals to Nicomachus, by E Pargiter, 1745, with
Politica by J Gillies, 1797, 1804, 1813, with Rhetorica and Poetica, by T
Taylor, 1818, and later editions Nicomachean Ethics, 1819, mainly from text of
Bekker by D P Chase, 1847, revised 1861, and later editions, with an
introductory essay by G H Lewes (Camelot Classics) 1890, re-edited by J M
Mitchell (New Universal Library), 1906, 1910, by R W Browne (Bohn’s
Classical Library), 1848, etc, by R Williams, 1869, 1876, by W M Hatch and
others (with translation of paraphrase attributed to Andronicus of Rhodes),
edited by E Hatch, 1879 by F H Peters, 1881, J E C Welldon, 1892, J Gillies
(Lubbock’s Hundred Books) 1893 Historia Animalium, by R Creswell
(Bonn’s Classical Library) 1848, with Treatise on Physiognomy, by T
Taylor, 1809 Metaphysica, by T Taylor, 1801, by J H M Mahon (Bohn’s
Classical Library), 1848 Organon, with Porphyry’s Introduction, by O F
Owen (Bohn’s Classical Library), 1848 Posterior Analytics, E Poste, 1850,
E S Bourchier, 1901, On Fallacies, E Poste, 1866 Parva Naturaha (Greek and
English), by G R T Ross, 1906, with De Anima, by W A Hammond, 1902 Youth and
Old Age, Life and Death and Respiration, W Ogle 1897 Poetica, with Notes from
the French of D Acier, 1705, by H J Pye, 1788, 1792, T Twining, 1789, 1812,
with Preface and Notes by H Hamilton, 1851, Treatise on Rhetorica and Poetica,
by T Hobbes (Bohn’s Classical Library), 1850, by Wharton, 1883 (see Greek
version), S H Butcher, 1895, 1898, 3rd edition, 1902, E S Bourchier, 1907, by
Ingram Bywater, 1909 De Partibus Animalium, W Ogle, 1882 De Republica
Athenientium, by E Poste, 1891, F G Kenyon, 1891, T J Dymes, 1891 De Virtutibus
et Vitus, by W Bridgman, 1804 Politica, from the French of Regius, 1598, by W
Ellis, 1776, 1778, 1888 (Morley’s Universal Library), 1893
(Lubbock’s Hundred Books) by E Walford (with Æconomics, and Life by Dr
Gillies), (Bohn’s Classical Library), 1848, J E. C. Welldon, 1883, B
Jowett, 1885, with Introduction and Index by H W C Davis, 1905, Books i iii iv
(vii) from Bekker’s text by W E Bolland, with Introduction by A Lang,
1877. Problemata (with writings of other philosophers), 1597, 1607, 1680, 1684,
etc. Rhetorica, A summary by T Hobbes, 1655 (?), new edition, 1759, by the
translators of the Art of Thinking, 1686, 1816, by D M Crimmin, 1812, J
Gillies, 1823, Anon 1847, J E C Welldon, 1886, R C Jebb, with Introduction and
Supplementary Notes by J E Sandys, 1909 (see under Poetica and Ethica). Secreta
Secretorum (supposititious work), Anon 1702, from the Hebrew version by M
Gaster, 1907, 1908. Version by Lydgate and Burgh, edited by R Steele (E E T S),
1894, 1898.

LIFE, ETC J W Blakesley, 1839, A Crichton (Jardine’s Naturalist’s
Library), 1843, JS Blackie, Four Phases of Morals, Socrates, Aristotle, etc,
1871, G Grote, Aristotle, edited by A Bain and G C Robertson, 1872, 1880, E
Wallace, Outlines of the Philosophy of Aristotle, 1875, 1880, A Grant (Ancient
Classics for English readers), 1877, T Davidson, Aristotle and Ancient
Educational Ideals (Great Educators), 1892, F Sewall, Swedenborg and Aristotle,
1895, W A Heidel, The Necessary and the Contingent of the Aristotelian System
(University of Chicago Contributions to Philosophy), 1896, F W Bain, On the
Realisation of the Possible, and the Spirit of Aristotle, 1899, J H Hyslop, The
Ethics of the Greek Philosophers, etc (Evolution of Ethics), 1903, M V
Williams, Six Essays on the Platonic Theory of Knowledge as expounded in the
later dialogues and reviewed by Aristotle, 1908, J M Watson, Aristotle’s
Criticism of Plato, 1909 A E Taylor, Aristotle, 1919, W D Ross, Aristotle,
1923.

ARISTOTLE’S ETHICS

BOOK I

Chapter I.

Every art, and every science reduced to a teachable form, and in like manner
every action and moral choice, aims, it is thought, at some good: for which
reason a common and by no means a bad description of the Chief Good is,
“that which all things aim at.”

Now there plainly is a difference in the Ends proposed: for in some cases they
are acts of working, and in others certain works or tangible results beyond and
beside the acts of working: and where there are certain Ends beyond and beside
the actions, the works are in their nature better than the acts of working.
Again, since actions and arts and sciences are many, the Ends likewise come to
be many: of the healing art, for instance, health; of the ship-building art, a
vessel; of the military art, victory; and of domestic management, wealth; are
respectively the Ends.

And whatever of such actions, arts, or sciences range under some one faculty
(as under that of horsemanship the art of making bridles, and all that are
connected with the manufacture of horse-furniture in general; this itself
again, and every action connected with war, under the military art; and in the
same way others under others), in all such, the Ends of the master-arts are
more choice-worthy than those ranging under them, because it is with a view to
the former that the latter are pursued.

(And in this comparison it makes no difference whether the acts of working are
themselves the Ends of the actions, or something further beside them, as is the
case in the arts and sciences we have been just speaking of.)

Since then of all things which may be done there is some one End which we
desire for its own sake, and with a view to which we desire everything else;
and since we do not choose in all instances with a further End in view (for
then men would go on without limit, and so the desire would be unsatisfied and
fruitless), this plainly must be the Chief Good, i.e. the best thing of
all.

Surely then, even with reference to actual life and conduct, the knowledge of
it must have great weight; and like archers, with a mark in view, we shall be
more likely to hit upon what is right: and if so, we ought to try to describe,
in outline at least, what it is and of which of the sciences and faculties it
is the End.

Now one would naturally suppose it to be the End of that which is most
commanding and most inclusive: and to this description,
πολιτικὴ^[1]
plainly answers: for this it is that determines which of the sciences should be
in the communities, and which kind individuals are to learn, and what degree of
proficiency is to be required. Again; we see also ranging under this the most
highly esteemed faculties, such as the art military, and that of domestic
management, and Rhetoric. Well then, since this uses all the other practical
sciences, and moreover lays down rules as to what men are to do, and from what
to abstain, the End of this must include the Ends of the rest, and so must be
The Good of Man. And grant that this is the same to the individual and
to the community, yet surely that of the latter is plainly greater and more
perfect to discover and preserve: for to do this even for a single individual
were a matter for contentment; but to do it for a whole nation, and for
communities generally, were more noble and godlike.

Such then are the objects proposed by our treatise, which is of the nature of
πολιτικὴ: and I conceive I shall have
spoken on them satisfactorily, if they be made as distinctly clear as the
nature of the subject-matter will admit: for exactness must not be looked for
in all discussions alike, any more than in all works of handicraft. Now the
notions of nobleness and justice, with the examination of which
πολιτικὴ is concerned, admit of
variation and error to such a degree, that they are supposed by some to exist
conventionally only, and not in the nature of things: but then, again, the
things which are allowed to be goods admit of a similar error, because harm
comes to many from them: for before now some have perished through wealth, and
others through valour.

We must be content then, in speaking of such things and from such data, to set
forth the truth roughly and in outline; in other words, since we are speaking
of general matter and from general data, to draw also conclusions merely
general. And in the same spirit should each person receive what we say: for the
man of education will seek exactness so far in each subject as the nature of
the thing admits, it being plainly much the same absurdity to put up with a
mathematician who tries to persuade instead of proving, and to demand strict
demonstrative reasoning of a Rhetorician.

Now each man judges well what he knows, and of these things he is a good judge:
on each particular matter then he is a good judge who has been instructed in
it, and in a general way the man of general mental
cultivation.^[2]

Hence the young man is not a fit student of Moral Philosophy, for he has no
experience in the actions of life, while all that is said presupposes and is
concerned with these: and in the next place, since he is apt to follow the
impulses of his passions, he will hear as though he heard not, and to no
profit, the end in view being practice and not mere knowledge.

And I draw no distinction between young in years, and youthful in temper and
disposition: the defect to which I allude being no direct result of the time,
but of living at the beck and call of passion, and following each object as it
rises.^[3] For
to them that are such the knowledge comes to be unprofitable, as to
those of imperfect self-control: but, to those who form their desires
and act in accordance with reason, to have knowledge on these points
must be very profitable.

Let thus much suffice by way of preface on these three points, the student, the
spirit in which our observations should be received, and the object which we
propose.

Chapter II.

And now, resuming the statement with which we commenced, since all knowledge
and moral choice grasps at good of some kind or another, what good is that
which we say πολιτικὴ aims at? or, in
other words, what is the highest of all the goods which are the objects of
action?

So far as name goes, there is a pretty general agreement: for
HAPPINESS both the multitude and the refined few call it, and
“living well” and “doing well” they conceive to be the
same with “being happy;” but about the Nature of this Happiness,
men dispute, and the multitude do not in their account of it agree with the
wise. For some say it is some one of those things which are palpable and
apparent, as pleasure or wealth or honour; in fact, some one thing, some
another; nay, oftentimes the same man gives a different account of it; for when
ill, he calls it health; when poor, wealth: and conscious of their own
ignorance, men admire those who talk grandly and above their comprehension.
Some again held it to be something by itself, other than and beside these many
good things, which is in fact to all these the cause of their being good.

Now to sift all the opinions would be perhaps rather a fruitless task; so it
shall suffice to sift those which are most generally current, or are thought to
have some reason in them.

And here we must not forget the difference between reasoning from principles,
and reasoning to principles:^[4]
for with good cause did Plato too doubt about this, and enquire whether the
right road is from principles or to principles, just as in the racecourse from
the judges to the further end, or vice versâ.

Of course, we must begin with what is known; but then this is of two kinds,
what we do know, and what we may know:^[5]
perhaps then as individuals we must begin with what we do know. Hence
the necessity that he should have been well trained in habits, who is to study,
with any tolerable chance of profit, the principles of nobleness and justice
and moral philosophy generally. For a principle is a matter of fact, and if the
fact is sufficiently clear to a man there will be no need in addition of the
reason for the fact. And he that has been thus trained either has principles
already, or can receive them easily: as for him who neither has nor can receive
them, let him hear his sentence from Hesiod:

He is best of all who of himself conceiveth all things;
Good again is he too who can adopt a good suggestion;
But whoso neither of himself conceiveth nor hearing from another
Layeth it to heart;—he is a useless man.

Chapter III.

But to return from this digression.

Now of the Chief Good (i.e. of Happiness) men seem to form their notions
from the different modes of life, as we might naturally expect: the many and
most low conceive it to be pleasure, and hence they are content with the life
of sensual enjoyment. For there are three lines of life which stand out
prominently to view: that just mentioned, and the life in society, and,
thirdly, the life of contemplation.

Now the many are plainly quite slavish, choosing a life like that of brute
animals: yet they obtain some consideration, because many of the great share
the tastes of Sardanapalus. The refined and active again conceive it to be
honour: for this may be said to be the end of the life in society: yet it is
plainly too superficial for the object of our search, because it is thought to
rest with those who pay rather than with him who receives it, whereas the Chief
Good we feel instinctively must be something which is our own, and not easily
to be taken from us.

And besides, men seem to pursue honour, that they may believe themselves to be
good:^[6] for
instance, they seek to be honoured by the wise, and by those among whom they
are known, and for virtue: clearly then, in the opinion at least of these men,
virtue is higher than honour. In truth, one would be much more inclined to
think this to be the end of the life in society; yet this itself is plainly not
sufficiently final: for it is conceived possible, that a man possessed of
virtue might sleep or be inactive all through his life, or, as a third case,
suffer the greatest evils and misfortunes: and the man who should live thus no
one would call happy, except for mere disputation’s sake.^[7]

And for these let thus much suffice, for they have been treated of at
sufficient length in my Encyclia.^[8]

A third line of life is that of contemplation, concerning which we shall make
our examination in the following pages.^[9]

As for the life of money-making, it is one of constraint, and wealth manifestly
is not the good we are seeking, because it is for use, that is, for the sake of
something further: and hence one would rather conceive the forementioned ends
to be the right ones, for men rest content with them for their own sakes. Yet,
clearly, they are not the objects of our search either, though many words have
been wasted on them.^[10]
So much then for these.

Again, the notion of one Universal Good (the same, that is, in all things), it
is better perhaps we should examine, and discuss the meaning of it, though such
an enquiry is unpleasant, because they are friends of ours who have introduced
these εἴδη.^[11]
Still perhaps it may appear better, nay to be our duty where the safety of the
truth is concerned, to upset if need be even our own theories, specially as we
are lovers of wisdom: for since both are dear to us, we are bound to prefer the
truth. Now they who invented this doctrine of εἴδη, did
not apply it to those things in which they spoke of priority and posteriority,
and so they never made any ἰδέα of numbers; but good is
predicated in the categories of Substance, Quality, and Relation; now that
which exists of itself, i.e. Substance, is prior in the nature of things
to that which is relative, because this latter is an off-shoot, as it were, and
result of that which is; on their own principle then there cannot be a common
ἰδέα in the case of these.

In the next place, since good is predicated in as many ways as there are modes
of existence [for it is predicated in the category of Substance, as God,
Intellect—and in that of Quality, as The Virtues—and in that of
Quantity, as The Mean—and in that of Relation, as The Useful—and in
that of Time, as Opportunity—and in that of Place, as Abode; and other
such like things], it manifestly cannot be something common and universal and
one in all: else it would not have been predicated in all the categories, but
in one only.

Thirdly, since those things which range under one ἰδέα
are also under the cognisance of one science, there would have been, on their
theory, only one science taking cognisance of all goods collectively: but in
fact there are many even for those which range under one category: for
instance, of Opportunity or Seasonableness (which I have before mentioned as
being in the category of Time), the science is, in war, generalship; in
disease, medical science; and of the Mean (which I quoted before as being in
the category of Quantity), in food, the medical science; and in labour or
exercise, the gymnastic science. A person might fairly doubt also what in the
world they mean by very-this that or the other, since, as they would themselves
allow, the account of the humanity is one and the same in the very-Man, and in
any individual Man: for so far as the individual and the very-Man are both Man,
they will not differ at all: and if so, then very-good and any particular good
will not differ, in so far as both are good. Nor will it do to say, that the
eternity of the very-good makes it to be more good; for what has lasted white
ever so long, is no whiter than what lasts but for a day.

No. The Pythagoreans do seem to give a more credible account of the matter, who
place “One” among the goods in their double list of goods and
bads:^[12]
which philosophers, in fact, Speusippus^[13]
seems to have followed.

But of these matters let us speak at some other time. Now there is plainly a
loophole to object to what has been advanced, on the plea that the theory I
have attacked is not by its advocates applied to all good: but those goods only
are spoken of as being under one ἰδέα, which are pursued,
and with which men rest content simply for their own sakes: whereas those
things which have a tendency to produce or preserve them in any way, or to
hinder their contraries, are called good because of these other goods, and
after another fashion. It is manifest then that the goods may be so called in
two senses, the one class for their own sakes, the other because of these.

Very well then, let us separate the independent goods from the instrumental,
and see whether they are spoken of as under one ἰδέα. But
the question next arises, what kind of goods are we to call independent? All
such as are pursued even when separated from other goods, as, for instance,
being wise, seeing, and certain pleasures and honours (for these, though we do
pursue them with some further end in view, one would still place among the
independent goods)? or does it come in fact to this, that we can call nothing
independent good except the ἰδέα, and so the concrete of
it will be nought?

If, on the other hand, these are independent goods, then we shall require that
the account of the goodness be the same clearly in all, just as that of the
whiteness is in snow and white lead. But how stands the fact? Why of honour and
wisdom and pleasure the accounts are distinct and different in so far as they
are good. The Chief Good then is not something common, and after one
ἰδέα.

But then, how does the name come to be common (for it is not seemingly a case
of fortuitous equivocation)? Are different individual things called good by
virtue of being from one source, or all conducing to one end, or rather by way
of analogy, for that intellect is to the soul as sight to the body, and so on?
However, perhaps we ought to leave these questions now, for an accurate
investigation of them is more properly the business of a different philosophy.
And likewise respecting the ἰδέα: for even if there is
some one good predicated in common of all things that are good, or separable
and capable of existing independently, manifestly it cannot be the object of
human action or attainable by Man; but we are in search now of something that
is so.^[14]

It may readily occur to any one, that it would be better to attain a knowledge
of it with a view to such concrete goods as are attainable and practical,
because, with this as a kind of model in our hands, we shall the better know
what things are good for us individually, and when we know them, we shall
attain them.

Some plausibility, it is true, this argument possesses, but it is contradicted
by the facts of the Arts and Sciences; for all these, though aiming at some
good, and seeking that which is deficient, yet pretermit the knowledge of it:
now it is not exactly probable that all artisans without exception should be
ignorant of so great a help as this would be, and not even look after it;
neither is it easy to see wherein a weaver or a carpenter will be profited in
respect of his craft by knowing the very-good, or how a man will be the more
apt to effect cures or to command an army for having seen the
ἰδέα itself. For manifestly it is not health after this
general and abstract fashion which is the subject of the physician’s
investigation, but the health of Man, or rather perhaps of this or that man;
for he has to heal individuals.—Thus much on these points.

Chapter IV.

And now let us revert to the Good of which we are in search: what can it be?
for manifestly it is different in different actions and arts: for it is
different in the healing art and in the art military, and similarly in the
rest. What then is the Chief Good in each? Is it not “that for the sake
of which the other things are done?” and this in the healing art is
health, and in the art military victory, and in that of house-building a house,
and in any other thing something else; in short, in every action and moral
choice the End, because in all cases men do everything else with a view to
this. So that if there is some one End of all things which are and may be done,
this must be the Good proposed by doing, or if more than one, then these.

Thus our discussion after some traversing about has come to the same point
which we reached before. And this we must try yet more to clear up.

Now since the ends are plainly many, and of these we choose some with a view to
others (wealth, for instance, musical instruments, and, in general, all
instruments), it is clear that all are not final: but the Chief Good is
manifestly something final; and so, if there is some one only which is final,
this must be the object of our search: but if several, then the most final of
them will be it.

Now that which is an object of pursuit in itself we call more final than that
which is so with a view to something else; that again which is never an object
of choice with a view to something else than those which are so both in
themselves and with a view to this ulterior object: and so by the term
“absolutely final,” we denote that which is an object of choice
always in itself, and never with a view to any other.

And of this nature Happiness is mostly thought to be, for this we choose always
for its own sake, and never with a view to anything further: whereas honour,
pleasure, intellect, in fact every excellence we choose for their own sakes, it
is true (because we would choose each of these even if no result were to
follow), but we choose them also with a view to happiness, conceiving that
through their instrumentality we shall be happy: but no man chooses happiness
with a view to them, nor in fact with a view to any other thing whatsoever.

The same result^[15]
is seen to follow also from the notion of self-sufficiency, a quality thought
to belong to the final good. Now by sufficient for Self, we mean not for a
single individual living a solitary life, but for his parents also and children
and wife, and, in general, friends and countrymen; for man is by nature adapted
to a social existence. But of these, of course, some limit must be fixed: for
if one extends it to parents and descendants and friends’ friends, there
is no end to it. This point, however, must be left for future investigation:
for the present we define that to be self-sufficient “which taken alone
makes life choice-worthy, and to be in want of nothing;” now of such kind
we think Happiness to be: and further, to be most choice-worthy of all things;
not being reckoned with any other thing,^[16]
for if it were so reckoned, it is plain we must then allow it, with the
addition of ever so small a good, to be more choice-worthy than it was
before:^[17]
because what is put to it becomes an addition of so much more good, and of
goods the greater is ever the more choice-worthy.

So then Happiness is manifestly something final and self-sufficient, being the
end of all things which are and may be done.

Chapter V.

But, it may be, to call Happiness the Chief Good is a mere truism, and what is
wanted is some clearer account of its real nature. Now this object may be
easily attained, when we have discovered what is the work of man; for as in the
case of flute-player, statuary, or artisan of any kind, or, more generally, all
who have any work or course of action, their Chief Good and Excellence is
thought to reside in their work, so it would seem to be with man, if there is
any work belonging to him.

Are we then to suppose, that while carpenter and cobbler have certain works and
courses of action, Man as Man has none, but is left by Nature without a work?
or would not one rather hold, that as eye, hand, and foot, and generally each
of his members, has manifestly some special work; so too the whole Man, as
distinct from all these, has some work of his own?^[18]

What then can this be? not mere life, because that plainly is shared with him
even by vegetables, and we want what is peculiar to him. We must separate off
then the life of mere nourishment and growth, and next will come the life of
sensation: but this again manifestly is common to horses, oxen, and every
animal. There remains then a kind of life of the Rational Nature apt to act:
and of this Nature there are two parts denominated Rational, the one as being
obedient to Reason, the other as having and exerting it. Again, as this life is
also spoken of in two ways,^[19]
we must take that which is in the way of actual working, because this is
thought to be most properly entitled to the name. If then the work of Man is a
working of the soul in accordance with reason, or at least not independently of
reason, and we say that the work of any given subject, and of that subject good
of its kind, are the same in kind (as, for instance, of a harp-player and a
good harp-player, and so on in every case, adding to the work eminence in the
way of excellence; I mean, the work of a harp-player is to play the harp, and
of a good harp-player to play it well); if, I say, this is so, and we assume
the work of Man to be life of a certain kind, that is to say a working of the
soul, and actions with reason, and of a good man to do these things well and
nobly, and in fact everything is finished off well in the way of the excellence
which peculiarly belongs to it: if all this is so, then the Good of Man comes
to be “a working of the Soul in the way of Excellence,” or, if
Excellence admits of degrees, in the way of the best and most perfect
Excellence.

And we must add, ἐν βίῳ
τελείῳ;^[20]
for as it is not one swallow or one fine day that makes a spring, so it is not
one day or a short time that makes a man blessed and happy.

Let this then be taken for a rough sketch of the Chief Good: since it is
probably the right way to give first the outline, and fill it in afterwards.
And it would seem that any man may improve and connect what is good in the
sketch, and that time is a good discoverer and co-operator in such matters: it
is thus in fact that all improvements in the various arts have been brought
about, for any man may fill up a deficiency.

You must remember also what has been already stated, and not seek for exactness
in all matters alike, but in each according to the subject-matter, and so far
as properly belongs to the system. The carpenter and geometrician, for
instance, enquire into the right line in different fashion: the former so far
as he wants it for his work, the latter enquires into its nature and
properties, because he is concerned with the truth.

So then should one do in other matters, that the incidental matters may not
exceed the direct ones.

And again, you must not demand the reason either in all things alike,^[21]
because in some it is sufficient that the fact has been well demonstrated,
which is the case with first principles; and the fact is the first step,
i.e. starting-point or principle.

And of these first principles some are obtained by induction, some by
perception,^[22]
some by a course of habituation, others in other different ways. And we must
try to trace up each in their own nature, and take pains to secure their being
well defined, because they have great influence on what follows: it is thought,
I mean, that the starting-point or principle is more than half the whole
matter, and that many of the points of enquiry come simultaneously into view
thereby.

Chapter VI.

We must now enquire concerning Happiness, not only from our conclusion and the
data on which our reasoning proceeds, but likewise from what is commonly said
about it: because with what is true all things which really are are in harmony,
but with that which is false the true very soon jars.

Now there is a common division of goods into three classes; one being called
external, the other two those of the soul and body respectively, and those
belonging to the soul we call most properly and specially good. Well, in our
definition we assume that the actions and workings of the soul constitute
Happiness, and these of course belong to the soul. And so our account is a good
one, at least according to this opinion, which is of ancient date, and accepted
by those who profess philosophy. Rightly too are certain actions and workings
said to be the end, for thus it is brought into the number of the goods of the
soul instead of the external. Agreeing also with our definition is the common
notion, that the happy man lives well and does well, for it has been stated by
us to be pretty much a kind of living well and doing well.

And further, the points required in Happiness are found in combination in our
account of it.

For some think it is virtue, others practical wisdom, others a kind of
scientific philosophy; others that it is these, or else some one of them, in
combination with pleasure, or at least not independently of it; while others
again take in external prosperity.

Of these opinions, some rest on the authority of numbers or antiquity, others
on that of few, and those men of note: and it is not likely that either of
these classes should be wrong in all points, but be right at least in some one,
or even in most.

Now with those who assert it to be Virtue (Excellence), or some kind of Virtue,
our account agrees: for working in the way of Excellence surely belongs to
Excellence.

And there is perhaps no unimportant difference between conceiving of the Chief
Good as in possession or as in use, in other words, as a mere state or as a
working. For the state or habit^[23]
may possibly exist in a subject without effecting any good, as, for instance,
in him who is asleep, or in any other way inactive; but the working cannot so,
for it will of necessity act, and act well. And as at the Olympic games it is
not the finest and strongest men who are crowned, but they who enter the lists,
for out of these the prize-men are selected; so too in life, of the honourable
and the good, it is they who act who rightly win the prizes.^[24]

Their life too is in itself pleasant: for the feeling of pleasure is a mental
sensation, and that is to each pleasant of which he is said to be fond: a
horse, for instance, to him who is fond of horses, and a sight to him who is
fond of sights: and so in like manner just acts to him who is fond of justice,
and more generally the things in accordance with virtue to him who is fond of
virtue. Now in the case of the multitude of men the things which they
individually esteem pleasant clash, because they are not such by nature,
whereas to the lovers of nobleness those things are pleasant which are such by
nature: but the actions in accordance with virtue are of this kind, so that
they are pleasant both to the individuals and also in themselves.

So then their life has no need of pleasure as a kind of additional appendage,
but involves pleasure in itself. For, besides what I have just mentioned, a man
is not a good man at all who feels no pleasure in noble actions,^[25]
just as no one would call that man just who does not feel pleasure in acting
justly, or liberal who does not in liberal actions, and similarly in the case
of the other virtues which might be enumerated: and if this be so, then the
actions in accordance with virtue must be in themselves pleasurable. Then again
they are certainly good and noble, and each of these in the highest degree; if
we are to take as right the judgment of the good man, for he judges as we have
said.

Thus then Happiness is most excellent, most noble, and most pleasant, and these
attributes are not separated as in the well-known Delian inscription—

“Most noble is that which is most just, but best is health;
And naturally most pleasant is the obtaining one’s desires.”

For all these co-exist in the best acts of working: and we say that Happiness
is these, or one, that is, the best of them.

Still^[26]
it is quite plain that it does require the addition of external goods, as we
have said: because without appliances it is impossible, or at all events not
easy, to do noble actions: for friends, money, and political influence are in a
manner instruments whereby many things are done: some things there are again a
deficiency in which mars blessedness; good birth, for instance, or fine
offspring, or even personal beauty: for he is not at all capable of Happiness
who is very ugly, or is ill-born, or solitary and childless; and still less
perhaps supposing him to have very bad children or friends, or to have lost
good ones by death. As we have said already, the addition of prosperity of this
kind does seem necessary to complete the idea of Happiness; hence some rank
good fortune, and others virtue, with Happiness.

Chapter VII.

And hence too a question is raised, whether it is a thing that can be learned,
or acquired by habituation or discipline of some other kind, or whether it
comes in the way of divine dispensation, or even in the way of chance.

Now to be sure, if anything else is a gift of the Gods to men, it is probable
that Happiness is a gift of theirs too, and specially because of all human
goods it is the highest. But this, it may be, is a question belonging more
properly to an investigation different from ours:^[27]
and it is quite clear, that on the supposition of its not being sent from the
Gods direct, but coming to us by reason of virtue and learning of a certain
kind, or discipline, it is yet one of the most Godlike things; because the
prize and End of virtue is manifestly somewhat most excellent, nay divine and
blessed.

It will also on this supposition be widely participated, for it may through
learning and diligence of a certain kind exist in all who have not been
maimed^[28]
for virtue.

And if it is better we should be happy thus than as a result of chance, this is
in itself an argument that the case is so; because those things which are in
the way of nature, and in like manner of art, and of every cause, and specially
the best cause, are by nature in the best way possible: to leave them to chance
what is greatest and most noble would be very much out of harmony with all
these facts.^[29]

The question may be determined also by a reference to our definition of
Happiness, that it is a working of the soul in the way of excellence or virtue
of a certain kind: and of the other goods, some we must have to begin with, and
those which are co-operative and useful are given by nature as
instruments.^[30]

These considerations will harmonise also with what we said at the commencement:
for we assumed the End of πολιτικὴ to
be most excellent: now this bestows most care on making the members of the
community of a certain character; good that is and apt to do what is
honourable.

With good reason then neither ox nor horse nor any other brute animal do we
call happy, for none of them can partake in such working: and for this same
reason a child is not happy either, because by reason of his tender age he
cannot yet perform such actions: if the term is applied, it is by way of
anticipation.

For to constitute Happiness, there must be, as we have said, complete virtue
and a complete life: for many changes and chances of all kinds arise during a
life, and he who is most prosperous may become involved in great misfortunes in
his old age, as in the heroic poems the tale is told of Priam: but the man who
has experienced such fortune and died in wretchedness, no man calls happy.

Chapter VIII.

Are we then to call no man happy while he lives, and, as Solon would have us,
look to the end? And again, if we are to maintain this position, is a man then
happy when he is dead? or is not this a complete absurdity, specially in us who
say Happiness is a working of a certain kind?

If on the other hand we do not assert that the dead man is happy, and Solon
does not mean this, but only that one would then be safe in pronouncing a man
happy, as being thenceforward out of the reach of evils and misfortunes, this
too admits of some dispute, since it is thought that the dead has somewhat both
of good and evil (if, as we must allow, a man may have when alive but not aware
of the circumstances), as honour and dishonour, and good and bad fortune of
children and descendants generally.

Nor is this view again without its difficulties: for, after a man has lived in
blessedness to old age and died accordingly, many changes may befall him in
right of his descendants; some of them may be good and obtain positions in life
accordant to their merits, others again quite the contrary: it is plain too
that the descendants may at different intervals or grades stand in all manner
of relations to the ancestors.^[31]
Absurd indeed would be the position that even the dead man is to change about
with them and become at one time happy and at another miserable. Absurd however
it is on the other hand that the affairs of the descendants should in no degree
and during no time affect the ancestors.

But we must revert to the point first raised,^[32]
since the present question will be easily determined from that.

If then we are to look to the end and then pronounce the man blessed, not as
being so but as having been so at some previous time, surely it is absurd that
when he is happy the truth is not to be asserted of him, because we are
unwilling to pronounce the living happy by reason of their liability to
changes, and because, whereas we have conceived of happiness as something
stable and no way easily changeable, the fact is that good and bad fortune are
constantly circling about the same people: for it is quite plain, that if we
are to depend upon the fortunes of men, we shall often have to call the same
man happy, and a little while after miserable, thus representing our happy man,

“Chameleon-like, and based on rottenness.”

Is not this the solution? that to make our sentence dependent on the changes of
fortune, is no way right: for not in them stands the well, or the ill, but
though human life needs these as accessories (which we have allowed already),
the workings in the way of virtue are what determine Happiness, and the
contrary the contrary.

And, by the way, the question which has been here discussed, testifies
incidentally to the truth of our account of Happiness.^[33]
For to nothing does a stability of human results attach so much as it does to
the workings in the way of virtue, since these are held to be more abiding even
than the sciences: and of these last again^[34]
the most precious are the most abiding, because the blessed live in them most
and most continuously, which seems to be the reason why they are not forgotten.
So then this stability which is sought will be in the happy man, and he will be
such through life, since always, or most of all, he will be doing and
contemplating the things which are in the way of virtue: and the various
chances of life he will bear most nobly, and at all times and in all ways
harmoniously, since he is the truly good man, or in the terms of our proverb
“a faultless cube.”

And whereas the incidents of chance are many, and differ in greatness and
smallness, the small pieces of good or ill fortune evidently do not affect the
balance of life, but the great and numerous, if happening for good, will make
life more blessed (for it is their nature to contribute to ornament, and the
using of them comes to be noble and excellent), but if for ill, they bruise as
it were and maim the blessedness: for they bring in positive pain, and hinder
many acts of working. But still, even in these, nobleness shines through when a
man bears contentedly many and great mischances not from insensibility to pain
but because he is noble and high-spirited.

And if, as we have said, the acts of working are what determine the character
of the life, no one of the blessed can ever become wretched, because he will
never do those things which are hateful and mean. For the man who is truly good
and sensible bears all fortunes, we presume, becomingly, and always does what
is noblest under the circumstances, just as a good general employs to the best
advantage the force he has with him; or a good shoemaker makes the handsomest
shoe he can out of the leather which has been given him; and all other good
artisans likewise. And if this be so, wretched never can the happy man come to
be: I do not mean to say he will be blessed should he fall into fortunes like
those of Priam.

Nor, in truth, is he shifting and easily changeable, for on the one hand from
his happiness he will not be shaken easily nor by ordinary mischances, but, if
at all, by those which are great and numerous; and, on the other, after such
mischances he cannot regain his happiness in a little time; but, if at all, in
a long and complete period, during which he has made himself master of great
and noble things.

Why then should we not call happy the man who works in the way of perfect
virtue, and is furnished with external goods sufficient for acting his part in
the drama of life:^[35]
and this during no ordinary period but such as constitutes a complete
life as we have been describing it.

Or we must add, that not only is he to live so, but his death must be in
keeping with such life, since the future is dark to us, and Happiness we assume
to be in every way an end and complete. And, if this be so, we shall call them
among the living blessed who have and will have the things specified, but
blessed as Men.^[36]

On these points then let it suffice to have denned thus much.

Chapter IX.

Now that the fortunes of their descendants, and friends generally, contribute
nothing towards forming the condition of the dead, is plainly a very heartless
notion, and contrary to the current opinions.

But since things which befall are many, and differ in all kinds of ways, and
some touch more nearly, others less, to go into minute particular distinctions
would evidently be a long and endless task: and so it may suffice to speak
generally and in outline.

If then, as of the misfortunes which happen to one’s self, some have a
certain weight and turn the balance of life, while others are, so to speak,
lighter; so it is likewise with those which befall all our friends alike; if
further, whether they whom each suffering befalls be alive or dead makes much
more difference than in a tragedy the presupposing or actual perpetration of
the various crimes and horrors, we must take into our account this difference
also, and still more perhaps the doubt concerning the dead whether they really
partake of any good or evil; it seems to result from all these considerations,
that if anything does pierce the veil and reach them, be the same good or bad,
it must be something trivial and small, either in itself or to them; or at
least of such a magnitude or such a kind as neither to make happy them that are
not so otherwise, nor to deprive of their blessedness them that
are.^[37]

It is plain then that the good or ill fortunes of their friends do affect the
dead somewhat: but in such kind and degree as neither to make the happy unhappy
nor produce any other such effect.

Chapter X.

Having determined these points, let us examine with respect to Happiness,
whether it belongs to the class of things praiseworthy or things precious; for
to that of faculties^[38]
it evidently does not.

Now it is plain that everything which is a subject of praise is praised for
being of a certain kind and bearing a certain relation to something else: for
instance, the just, and the valiant, and generally the good man, and virtue
itself, we praise because of the actions and the results: and the strong man,
and the quick runner, and so forth, we praise for being of a certain nature and
bearing a certain relation to something good and excellent (and this is
illustrated by attempts to praise the gods; for they are presented in a
ludicrous aspect^[39]
by being referred to our standard, and this results from the fact, that all
praise does, as we have said, imply reference to a standard). Now if it is to
such objects that praise belongs, it is evident that what is applicable to the
best objects is not praise, but something higher and better: which is plain
matter of fact, for not only do we call the gods blessed and happy, but of men
also we pronounce those blessed who most nearly resemble the gods. And in like
manner in respect of goods; no man thinks of praising Happiness as he does the
principle of justice, but calls it blessed, as being somewhat more godlike and
more excellent.

Eudoxus^[40]
too is thought to have advanced a sound argument in support of the claim of
pleasure to the highest prize: for the fact that, though it is one of the good
things, it is not praised, he took for an indication of its superiority to
those which are subjects of praise: a superiority he attributed also to a god
and the Chief Good, on the ground that they form the standard to which
everything besides is referred. For praise applies to virtue, because it makes
men apt to do what is noble; but encomia to definite works of body or
mind.^[41]

However, it is perhaps more suitable to a regular treatise on encomia to pursue
this topic with exactness: it is enough for our purpose that from what has been
said it is evident that Happiness belongs to the class of things precious and
final. And it seems to be so also because of its being a starting-point; which
it is, in that with a view to it we all do everything else that is done; now
the starting-point and cause of good things we assume to be something precious
and divine.

Chapter XI.

Moreover, since Happiness is a kind of working of the soul in the way of
perfect Excellence, we must enquire concerning Excellence: for so probably
shall we have a clearer view concerning Happiness; and again, he who is really
a statesman is generally thought to have spent most pains on this, for he
wishes to make the citizens good and obedient to the laws. (For examples of
this class we have the lawgivers of the Cretans and Lacedæmonians and whatever
other such there have been.) But if this investigation belongs properly to
πολιτικὴ, then clearly the enquiry
will be in accordance with our original design.

Well, we are to enquire concerning Excellence, i.e. Human Excellence of
course, because it was the Chief Good of Man and the Happiness of Man that we
were enquiring of just now.

And by Human Excellence we mean not that of man’s body but that of his
soul; for we call Happiness a working of the Soul.

And if this is so, it is plain that some knowledge of the nature of the Soul is
necessary for the statesman, just as for the oculist a knowledge of the whole
body, and the more so in proportion as
πολιτικὴ is more precious and higher
than the healing art: and in fact physicians of the higher class do busy
themselves much with the knowledge of the body.

So then the statesman is to consider the nature of the Soul: but he must do so
with these objects in view, and so far only as may suffice for the objects of
his special enquiry: for to carry his speculations to a greater exactness is
perhaps a task more laborious than falls within his province.

In fact, the few statements made on the subject in my popular treatises are
quite enough, and accordingly we will adopt them here: as, that the Soul
consists of two parts, the Irrational and the Rational (as to whether these are
actually divided, as are the parts of the body, and everything that is capable
of division; or are only metaphysically speaking two, being by nature
inseparable, as are convex and concave circumferences, matters not in respect
of our present purpose). And of the Irrational, the one part seems common to
other objects, and in fact vegetative; I mean the cause of nourishment and
growth (for such a faculty of the Soul one would assume to exist in all things
that receive nourishment, even in embryos, and this the same as in the perfect
creatures; for this is more likely than that it should be a different one).

Now the Excellence of this manifestly is not peculiar to the human species but
common to others: for this part and this faculty is thought to work most in
time of sleep, and the good and bad man are least distinguishable while asleep;
whence it is a common saying that during one half of life there is no
difference between the happy and the wretched; and this accords with our
anticipations, for sleep is an inactivity of the soul, in so far as it is
denominated good or bad, except that in some wise some of its movements find
their way through the veil and so the good come to have better dreams than
ordinary men. But enough of this: we must forego any further mention of the
nutritive part, since it is not naturally capable of the Excellence which is
peculiarly human.

And there seems to be another Irrational Nature of the Soul, which yet in a way
partakes of Reason. For in the man who controls his appetites, and in him who
resolves to do so and fails, we praise the Reason or Rational part of the Soul,
because it exhorts aright and to the best course: but clearly there is in them,
beside the Reason, some other natural principle which fights with and strains
against the Reason. (For in plain terms, just as paralysed limbs of the body
when their owners would move them to the right are borne aside in a contrary
direction to the left, so is it in the case of the Soul, for the impulses of
men who cannot control their appetites are to contrary points: the difference
is that in the case of the body we do see what is borne aside but in the case
of the soul we do not. But, it may be, not the less^[42]
on that account are we to suppose that there is in the Soul also somewhat
besides the Reason, which is opposed to this and goes against it; as to
how it is different, that is irrelevant.)

But of Reason this too does evidently partake, as we have said: for instance,
in the man of self-control it obeys Reason: and perhaps in the man of perfected
self-mastery,^[43]
or the brave man, it is yet more obedient; in them it agrees entirely
with the Reason.

So then the Irrational is plainly twofold: the one part, the merely vegetative,
has no share of Reason, but that of desire, or appetition generally, does
partake of it in a sense, in so far as it is obedient to it and capable of
submitting to its rule. (So too in common phrase we say we have
λόγος of our father or friends, and this in a
different sense from that in which we say we have
λόγος of mathematics.)^[44]

Now that the Irrational is in some way persuaded by the Reason, admonition, and
every act of rebuke and exhortation indicate. If then we are to say that this
also has Reason, then the Rational, as well as the Irrational, will be twofold,
the one supremely and in itself, the other paying it a kind of filial regard.

The Excellence of Man then is divided in accordance with this difference: we
make two classes, calling the one Intellectual, and the other Moral; pure
science, intelligence, and practical wisdom—Intellectual: liberality, and
perfected self-mastery—Moral: in speaking of a man’s Moral
character, we do not say he is a scientific or intelligent but a meek man, or
one of perfected self-mastery: and we praise the man of science in right of his
mental state;^[45]
and of these such as are praiseworthy we call Excellences.

BOOK II

Chapter I.

Well: human Excellence is of two kinds, Intellectual and Moral:^[1]
now the Intellectual springs originally, and is increased subsequently, from
teaching (for the most part that is^[2]),
and needs therefore experience and time; whereas the Moral comes from custom,
and so the Greek term denoting it is but a slight deflection from the term
denoting custom in that language.

From this fact it is plain that not one of the Moral Virtues comes to be in us
merely by nature: because of such things as exist by nature, none can be
changed by custom: a stone, for instance, by nature gravitating downwards,
could never by custom be brought to ascend, not even if one were to try and
accustom it by throwing it up ten thousand times; nor could file again be
brought to descend, nor in fact could anything whose nature is in one way be
brought by custom to be in another. The Virtues then come to be in us neither
by nature, nor in despite of nature,^[3]
but we are furnished by nature with a capacity for receiving themu and are
perfected in them through custom.

Again, in whatever cases we get things by nature, we get the faculties first
and perform the acts of working afterwards; an illustration of which is
afforded by the case of our bodily senses, for it was not from having often
seen or heard that we got these senses, but just the reverse: we had them and
so exercised them, but did not have them because we had exercised them. But the
Virtues we get by first performing single acts of working, which, again, is the
case of other things, as the arts for instance; for what we have to make when
we have learned how, these we learn how to make by making: men come to be
builders, for instance, by building; harp-players, by playing on the harp:
exactly so, by doing just actions we come to be just; by doing the actions of
self-mastery we come to be perfected in self-mastery; and by doing brave
actions brave.

And to the truth of this testimony is borne by what takes place in communities:
because the law-givers make the individual members good men by habituation, and
this is the intention certainly of every law-giver, and all who do not effect
it well fail of their intent; and herein consists the difference between a good
Constitution and a bad.

Again, every Virtue is either produced or destroyed from and by the very same
circumstances: art too in like manner; I mean it is by playing the harp that
both the good and the bad harp-players are formed: and similarly builders and
all the rest; by building well men will become good builders; by doing it badly
bad ones: in fact, if this had not been so, there would have been no need of
instructors, but all men would have been at once good or bad in their several
arts without them.

So too then is it with the Virtues: for by acting in the various relations in
which we are thrown with our fellow men, we come to be, some just, some unjust:
and by acting in dangerous positions and being habituated to feel fear or
confidence, we come to be, some brave, others cowards.

Similarly is it also with respect to the occasions of lust and anger: for some
men come to be perfected in self-mastery and mild, others destitute of all
self-control and passionate; the one class by behaving in one way under them,
the other by behaving in another. Or, in one word, the habits are produced from
the acts of working like to them: and so what we have to do is to give a
certain character to these particular acts, because the habits formed
correspond to the differences of these.

So then, whether we are accustomed this way or that straight from childhood,
makes not a small but an important difference, or rather I would say it makes
all the difference.

Chapter II.

Since then the object of the present treatise is not mere speculation, as it is
of some others (for we are enquiring not merely that we may know what virtue is
but that we may become virtuous, else it would have been useless), we must
consider as to the particular actions how we are to do them, because, as we
have just said, the quality of the habits that shall be formed depends on
these.

Now, that we are to act in accordance with Right Reason is a general maxim, and
may for the present be taken for granted: we will speak of it hereafter, and
say both what Right Reason is, and what are its relations to the other
virtues.^[4]

But let this point be first thoroughly understood between us, that all which
can be said on moral action must be said in outline, as it were, and not
exactly: for as we remarked at the commencement, such reasoning only must be
required as the nature of the subject-matter admits of, and matters of moral
action and expediency have no fixedness any more than matters of health. And if
the subject in its general maxims is such, still less in its application to
particular cases is exactness attainable:^[5]
because these fall not under any art or system of rules, but it must be left in
each instance to the individual agents to look to the exigencies of the
particular case, as it is in the art of healing, or that of navigating a ship.
Still, though the present subject is confessedly such, we must try and do what
we can for it.

First then this must be noted, that it is the nature of such things to be
spoiled by defect and excess; as we see in the case of health and strength
(since for the illustration of things which cannot be seen we must use those
that can), for excessive training impairs the strength as well as deficient:
meat and drink, in like manner, in too great or too small quantities, impair
the health: while in due proportion they cause, increase, and preserve it.

Thus it is therefore with the habits of perfected Self-Mastery and Courage and
the rest of the Virtues: for the man who flies from and fears all things, and
never stands up against anything, comes to be a coward; and he who fears
nothing, but goes at everything, comes to be rash. In like manner too, he that
tastes of every pleasure and abstains from none comes to lose all self-control;
while he who avoids all, as do the dull and clownish, comes as it were to lose
his faculties of perception: that is to say, the habits of perfected
Self-Mastery and Courage are spoiled by the excess and defect, but by the mean
state are preserved.

Furthermore, not only do the origination, growth, and marring of the habits
come from and by the same circumstances, but also the acts of working after the
habits are formed will be exercised on the same: for so it is also with those
other things which are more directly matters of sight, strength for instance:
for this comes by taking plenty of food and doing plenty of work, and the man
who has attained strength is best able to do these: and so it is with the
Virtues, for not only do we by abstaining from pleasures come to be perfected
in Self-Mastery, but when we have come to be so we can best abstain from them:
similarly too with Courage: for it is by accustoming ourselves to despise
objects of fear and stand up against them that we come to be brave; and after
we have come to be so we shall be best able to stand up against such objects.

And for a test of the formation of the habits we must take the pleasure or pain
which succeeds the acts; for he is perfected in Self-Mastery who not only
abstains from the bodily pleasures but is glad to do so; whereas he who
abstains but is sorry to do it has not Self-Mastery: he again is brave who
stands up against danger, either with positive pleasure or at least without any
pain; whereas he who does it with pain is not brave.^[6]

For Moral Virtue has for its object-matter pleasures and pains, because by
reason of pleasure we do what is bad, and by reason of pain decline doing what
is right (for which cause, as Plato observes, men should have been trained
straight from their childhood to receive pleasure and pain from proper objects,
for this is the right education). Again: since Virtues have to do with actions
and feelings, and on every feeling and every action pleasure and pain follow,
here again is another proof that Virtue has for its object-matter pleasure and
pain. The same is shown also by the fact that punishments are effected through
the instrumentality of these; because they are of the nature of remedies, and
it is the nature of remedies to be the contraries of the ills they cure. Again,
to quote what we said before: every habit of the Soul by its very nature has
relation to, and exerts itself upon, things of the same kind as those by which
it is naturally deteriorated or improved: now such habits do come to be vicious
by reason of pleasures and pains, that is, by men pursuing or avoiding
respectively, either such as they ought not, or at wrong times, or in wrong
manner, and so forth (for which reason, by the way, some people define the
Virtues as certain states of impassibility and utter quietude,^[7]
but they are wrong because they speak without modification, instead of adding
“as they ought,” “as they ought not,” and
“when,” and so on). Virtue then is assumed to be that habit which
is such, in relation to pleasures and pains, as to effect the best results, and
Vice the contrary.

The following considerations may also serve to set this in a clear light. There
are principally three things moving us to choice and three to avoidance, the
honourable, the expedient, the pleasant; and their three contraries, the
dishonourable, the hurtful, and the painful: now the good man is apt to go
right, and the bad man wrong, with respect to all these of course, but most
specially with respect to pleasure: because not only is this common to him with
all animals but also it is a concomitant of all those things which move to
choice, since both the honourable and the expedient give an impression of
pleasure.

Again, it grows up with us all from infancy, and so it is a hard matter to
remove from ourselves this feeling, engrained as it is into our very life.

Again, we adopt pleasure and pain (some of us more, and some less) as the
measure even of actions: for this cause then our whole business must be with
them, since to receive right or wrong impressions of pleasure and pain is a
thing of no little importance in respect of the actions. Once more; it is
harder, as Heraclitus says, to fight against pleasure than against anger: now
it is about that which is more than commonly difficult that art comes into
being, and virtue too, because in that which is difficult the good is of a
higher order: and so for this reason too both virtue and moral philosophy
generally must wholly busy themselves respecting pleasures and pains, because
he that uses these well will be good, he that does so ill will be bad.

Let us then be understood to have stated, that Virtue has for its object-matter
pleasures and pains, and that it is either increased or marred by the same
circumstances (differently used) by which it is originally generated, and that
it exerts itself on the same circumstances out of which it was generated.

Chapter III.

Now I can conceive a person perplexed as to the meaning of our statement, that
men must do just actions to become just, and those of self-mastery to acquire
the habit of self-mastery; “for,” he would say, “if men are
doing the actions they have the respective virtues already, just as men are
grammarians or musicians when they do the actions of either art.” May we
not reply by saying that it is not so even in the case of the arts referred to:
because a man may produce something grammatical either by chance or the
suggestion of another; but then only will he be a grammarian when he not only
produces something grammatical but does so grammarian-wise, i.e. in
virtue of the grammatical knowledge he himself possesses.

Again, the cases of the arts and the virtues are not parallel: because those
things which are produced by the arts have their excellence in themselves, and
it is sufficient therefore that these when produced should be in a certain
state: but those which are produced in the way of the virtues, are, strictly
speaking, actions of a certain kind (say of Justice or perfected Self-Mastery),
not merely if in themselves they are in a certain state but if also he who does
them does them being himself in a certain state, first if knowing what he is
doing, next if with deliberate preference, and with such preference for the
things’ own sake; and thirdly if being himself stable and unapt to
change. Now to constitute possession of the arts these requisites are not
reckoned in, excepting the one point of knowledge: whereas for possession of
the virtues knowledge avails little or nothing, but the other requisites avail
not a little, but, in fact, are all in all, and these requisites as a matter of
fact do come from oftentimes doing the actions of Justice and perfected
Self-Mastery.

The facts,^[8]
it is true, are called by the names of these habits when they are such as the
just or perfectly self-mastering man would do; but he is not in possession of
the virtues who merely does these facts, but he who also so does them as the
just and self-mastering do them.

We are right then in saying, that these virtues are formed in a man by his
doing the actions; but no one, if he should leave them undone, would be even in
the way to become a good man. Yet people in general do not perform these
actions, but taking refuge in talk they flatter themselves they are
philosophising, and that they will so be good men: acting in truth very like
those sick people who listen to the doctor with great attention but do nothing
that he tells them: just as these then cannot be well bodily under such a
course of treatment, so neither can those be mentally by such philosophising.

Chapter IV.

Next, we must examine what Virtue is.^[9]
Well, since the things which come to be in the mind are, in all, of three
kinds, Feelings, Capacities, States, Virtue of course must belong to one of the
three classes.

By Feelings, I mean such as lust, anger, fear, confidence, envy, joy,
friendship, hatred, longing, emulation, compassion, in short all such as are
followed by pleasure or pain: by Capacities, those in right of which we are
said to be capable of these feelings; as by virtue of which we are able to have
been made angry, or grieved, or to have compassionated; by States, those in
right of which we are in a certain relation good or bad to the aforementioned
feelings; to having been made angry, for instance, we are in a wrong relation
if in our anger we were too violent or too slack, but if we were in the happy
medium we are in a right relation to the feeling. And so on of the rest.

Now Feelings neither the virtues nor vices are, because in right of the
Feelings we are not denominated either good or bad, but in right of the virtues
and vices we are.

Again, in right of the Feelings we are neither praised nor
blamed,^[10]
(for a man is not commended for being afraid or being angry, nor blamed for
being angry merely but for being so in a particular way), but in right of the
virtues and vices we are.

Again, both anger and fear we feel without moral choice, whereas the virtues
are acts of moral choice, or at least certainly not independent of it.

Moreover, in right of the Feelings we are said to be moved, but in right of the
virtues and vices not to be moved, but disposed, in a certain way.

And for these same reasons they are not Capacities, for we are not called good
or bad merely because we are able to feel, nor are we praised or blamed.

And again, Capacities we have by nature, but we do not come to be good or bad
by nature, as we have said before.

Since then the virtues are neither Feelings nor Capacities, it remains that
they must be States.

Chapter V.

Now what the genus of Virtue is has been said; but we must not merely speak of
it thus, that it is a state but say also what kind of a state it is.

We must observe then that all excellence makes that whereof it is the
excellence both to be itself in a good state and to perform its work well. The
excellence of the eye, for instance, makes both the eye good and its work also:
for by the excellence of the eye we see well. So too the excellence of the
horse makes a horse good, and good in speed, and in carrying his rider, and
standing up against the enemy. If then this is universally the case, the
excellence of Man, i.e. Virtue, must be a state whereby Man comes to be good
and whereby he will perform well his proper work. Now how this shall be it is
true we have said already, but still perhaps it may throw light on the subject
to see what is its characteristic nature.

In all quantity then, whether continuous or discrete,^[11]
one may take the greater part, the less, or the exactly equal, and these either
with reference to the thing itself, or relatively to us: and the exactly equal
is a mean between excess and defect. Now by the mean of the thing, i.e.
absolute mean, I denote that which is equidistant from either extreme (which of
course is one and the same to all), and by the mean relatively to ourselves,
that which is neither too much nor too little for the particular individual.
This of course is not one nor the same to all: for instance, suppose ten is too
much and two too little, people take six for the absolute mean; because it
exceeds the smaller sum by exactly as much as it is itself exceeded by the
larger, and this mean is according to arithmetical proportion.^[12]

But the mean relatively to ourselves must not be so found ; for it does not
follow, supposing ten minæ^[13]
is too large a quantity to eat and two too small, that the trainer will order
his man six; because for the person who is to take it this also may be too much
or too little: for Milo it would be too little, but for a man just commencing
his athletic exercises too much: similarly too of the exercises themselves, as
running or wrestling.

So then it seems every one possessed of skill avoids excess and defect, but
seeks for and chooses the mean, not the absolute but the relative.

Now if all skill thus accomplishes well its work by keeping an eye on the mean,
and bringing the works to this point (whence it is common enough to say of such
works as are in a good state, “one cannot add to or take ought from
them,” under the notion of excess or defect destroying goodness but the
mean state preserving it), and good artisans, as we say, work with their eye on
this, and excellence, like nature, is more exact and better than any art in the
world, it must have an aptitude to aim at the mean.

It is moral excellence, i.e. Virtue, of course which I mean, because
this it is which is concerned with feelings and actions, and in these there can
be excess and defect and the mean: it is possible, for instance, to feel the
emotions of fear, confidence, lust, anger, compassion, and pleasure and pain
generally, too much or too little, and in either case wrongly; but to feel them
when we ought, on what occasions, towards whom, why, and as, we should do, is
the mean, or in other words the best state, and this is the property of Virtue.

In like manner too with respect to the actions, there may be excess and defect
and the mean. Now Virtue is concerned with feelings and actions, in which the
excess is wrong and the defect is blamed but the mean is praised and goes
right; and both these circumstances belong to Virtue. Virtue then is in a sense
a mean state, since it certainly has an aptitude for aiming at the mean.

Again, one may go wrong in many different ways (because, as the Pythagoreans
expressed it, evil is of the class of the infinite, good of the finite), but
right only in one; and so the former is easy, the latter difficult; easy to
miss the mark, but hard to hit it: and for these reasons, therefore, both the
excess and defect belong to Vice, and the mean state to Virtue; for, as the
poet has it,

“Men may be bad in many ways,
But good in one alone.”

Chapter VI.

Virtue then is “a state apt to exercise deliberate choice, being in the
relative mean, determined by reason, and^[14]
as the man of practical wisdom would determine.”

It is a middle state between too faulty ones, in the way of excess on one side
and of defect on the other: and it is so moreover, because the faulty states on
one side fall short of, and those on the other exceed, what is right, both in
the case of the feelings and the actions; but Virtue finds, and when found
adopts, the mean.

And so, viewing it in respect of its essence and definition, Virtue is a mean
state; but in reference to the chief good and to excellence it is the highest
state possible.

But it must not be supposed that every action or every feeling is capable of
subsisting in this mean state, because some there are which are so named as
immediately to convey the notion of badness, as malevolence, shamelessness,
envy; or, to instance in actions, adultery, theft, homicide; for all these and
suchlike are blamed because they are in themselves bad, not the having too much
or too little of them.

In these then you never can go right, but must always be wrong: nor in such
does the right or wrong depend on the selection of a proper person, time, or
manner (take adultery for instance), but simply doing any one soever of those
things is being wrong.

You might as well require that there should be determined a mean state, an
excess and a defect in respect of acting unjustly, being cowardly, or giving up
all control of the passions: for at this rate there will be of excess and
defect a mean state; of excess, excess; and of defect, defect.

But just as of perfected self-mastery and courage there is no excess and
defect, because the mean is in one point of view the highest possible state, so
neither of those faulty states can you have a mean state, excess, or defect,
but howsoever done they are wrong: you cannot, in short, have of excess and
defect a mean state, nor of a mean state excess and defect.

Chapter VII.

It is not enough, however, to state this in general terms, we must also apply
it to particular instances, because in treatises on moral conduct general
statements have an air of vagueness, but those which go into detail one of
greater reality: for the actions after all must be in detail, and the general
statements, to be worth anything, must hold good here.

We must take these details then from the well-known scheme.^[15]

I. In respect of fears and confidence or boldness:

The Mean state is Courage: men may exceed, of course, either in absence of fear
or in positive confidence: the former has no name (which is a common case), the
latter is called rash: again, the man who has too much fear and too little
confidence is called a coward.

II. In respect of pleasures and pains (but not all, and perhaps fewer pains
than pleasures):

The Mean state here is perfected Self-Mastery, the defect total absence of
Self-control. As for defect in respect of pleasure, there are really no people
who are chargeable with it, so, of course, there is really no name for such
characters, but, as they are conceivable, we will give them one and call them
insensible.

III. In respect of giving and taking wealth^[16]
(a):

The mean state is Liberality, the excess Prodigality, the defect Stinginess:
here each of the extremes involves really an excess and defect contrary to each
other: I mean, the prodigal gives out too much and takes in too little, while
the stingy man takes in too much and gives out too little. (It must be
understood that we are now giving merely an outline and summary, intentionally:
and we will, in a later part of the treatise, draw out the distinctions with
greater exactness.)

IV. In respect of wealth (b):

There are other dispositions besides these just mentioned; a mean state called
Munificence (for the munificent man differs from the liberal, the former having
necessarily to do with great wealth, the latter with but small); the excess
called by the names either of Want of taste or Vulgar Profusion, and the defect
Paltriness (these also differ from the extremes connected with liberality, and
the manner of their difference shall also be spoken of later).

V. In respect of honour and dishonour (a):

The mean state Greatness of Soul, the excess which may be called
χαυνότης,^[17]
and the defect Littleness of Soul.

VI. In respect of honour and dishonour (b):

Now there is a state bearing the same relation to Greatness of Soul as we said
just now Liberality does to Munificence, with the difference that is of being
about a small amount of the same thing: this state having reference to small
honour, as Greatness of Soul to great honour; a man may, of course, grasp at
honour either more than he should or less; now he that exceeds in his grasping
at it is called ambitious, he that falls short unambitious, he that is just as
he should be has no proper name: nor in fact have the states, except that the
disposition of the ambitious man is called ambition. For this reason those who
are in either extreme lay claim to the mean as a debateable land, and we call
the virtuous character sometimes by the name ambitious,^[18]
sometimes by that of unambitious, and we commend sometimes the one and
sometimes the other. Why we do it shall be said in the subsequent part of the
treatise; but now we will go on with the rest of the virtues after the plan we
have laid down.

VII. In respect of anger:

Here too there is excess, defect, and a mean state; but since they may be said
to have really no proper names, as we call the virtuous character Meek, we will
call the mean state Meekness, and of the extremes, let the man who is excessive
be denominated Passionate, and the faulty state Passionateness, and him who is
deficient Angerless, and the defect Angerlessness.

There are also three other mean states, having some mutual resemblance, but
still with differences; they are alike in that they all have for their
object-matter intercourse of words and deeds, and they differ in that one has
respect to truth herein, the other two to what is pleasant; and this in two
ways, the one in relaxation and amusement, the other in all things which occur
in daily life. We must say a word or two about these also, that we may the
better see that in all matters the mean is praiseworthy, while the extremes are
neither right nor worthy of praise but of blame.

Now of these, it is true, the majority have really no proper names, but still
we must try, as in the other cases, to coin some for them for the sake of
clearness and intelligibleness.

I. In respect of truth:

The man who is in the mean state we will call Truthful, and his state
Truthfulness, and as to the disguise of truth, if it be on the side of
exaggeration, Braggadocia, and him that has it a Braggadocio; if on that of
diminution, Reserve and Reserved shall be the terms.

II. In respect of what is pleasant in the way of relaxation or amusement.

The mean state shall be called Easy-pleasantry, and the character accordingly a
man of Easy-pleasantry; the excess Buffoonery, and the man a Buffoon; the man
deficient herein a Clown, and his state Clownishness.

III. In respect of what is pleasant in daily life.

He that is as he should be may be called Friendly, and his mean state
Friendliness: he that exceeds, if it be without any interested motive, somewhat
too Complaisant, if with such motive, a Flatterer: he that is deficient and in
all instances unpleasant, Quarrelsome and Cross.

There are mean states likewise in feelings and matters concerning them.
Shamefacedness, for instance, is no virtue, still a man is praised for being
shamefaced: for in these too the one is denominated the man in the mean state,
the other in the excess; the Dumbfoundered, for instance, who is overwhelmed
with shame on all and any occasions: the man who is in the defect, i.e.
who has no shame at all in his composition, is called Shameless: but the right
character Shamefaced.

Indignation against successful vice,^[19]
again, is a state in the mean between Envy and Malevolence: they all three have
respect to pleasure and pain produced by what happens to one’s neighbour:
for the man who has this right feeling is annoyed at undeserved success of
others, while the envious man goes beyond him and is annoyed at all success of
others, and the malevolent falls so far short of feeling annoyance that he even
rejoices [at misfortune of others].again, is a state in the mean between Envy
and Malevolence: they all three have respect to pleasure and pain produced by
what happens to one’s neighbour: for the man who has this right feeling
is annoyed at undeserved success of others, while the envious man goes beyond
him and is annoyed at all success of others, and the malevolent falls so far
short of feeling annoyance that he even rejoices [at misfortune of others].

But for the discussion of these also there will be another opportunity, as of
Justice too, because the term is used in more senses than one. So after this we
will go accurately into each and say how they are mean states: and in like
manner also with respect to the Intellectual Excellences.

Chapter VIII.

Now as there are three states in each case, two faulty either in the way of
excess or defect, and one right, which is the mean state, of course all are in
a way opposed to one another; the extremes, for instance, not only to the mean
but also to one another, and the mean to the extremes: for just as the half is
greater if compared with the less portion, and less if compared with the
greater, so the mean states, compared with the defects, exceed, whether in
feelings or actions, and vice versa. The brave man, for instance, shows
as rash when compared with the coward, and cowardly when compared with the
rash; similarly too the man of perfected self-mastery, viewed in comparison
with the man destitute of all perception, shows like a man of no self-control,
but in comparison with the man who really has no self-control, he looks like
one destitute of all perception: and the liberal man compared with the stingy
seems prodigal, and by the side of the prodigal, stingy.

And so the extreme characters push away, so to speak, towards each other the
man in the mean state; the brave man is called a rash man by the coward, and a
coward by the rash man, and in the other cases accordingly. And there being
this mutual opposition, the contrariety between the extremes is greater than
between either and the mean, because they are further from one another than
from the mean, just as the greater or less portion differ more from each other
than either from the exact half.

Again, in some cases an extreme will bear a resemblance to the mean; rashness,
for instance, to courage, and prodigality to liberality; but between the
extremes there is the greatest dissimilarity. Now things which are furthest
from one another^[20]
are defined to be contrary, and so the further off the more contrary will they
be.

Further: of the extremes in some cases the excess, and in others the defect, is
most opposed to the mean: to courage, for instance, not rashness which is the
excess, but cowardice which is the defect; whereas to perfected self-mastery
not insensibility which is the defect but absence of all self-control which is
the excess.

And for this there are two reasons to be given; one from the nature of the
thing itself, because from the one extreme being nearer and more like the mean,
we do not put this against it, but the other; as, for instance, since rashness
is thought to be nearer to courage than cowardice is, and to resemble it more,
we put cowardice against courage rather than rashness, because those things
which are further from the mean are thought to be more contrary to it. This
then is one reason arising from the thing itself; there is another arising from
our own constitution and make: for in each man’s own case those things
give the impression of being more contrary to the mean to which we individually
have a natural bias. Thus we have a natural bias towards pleasures, for which
reason we are much more inclined to the rejection of all self-control, than to
self-discipline.

These things then to which the bias is, we call more contrary, and so total
want of self-control (the excess) is more contrary than the defect is to
perfected self-mastery.

Chapter IX.

Now that Moral Virtue is a mean state, and how it is so, and that it lies
between two faulty states, one in the way of excess and another in the way of
defect, and that it is so because it has an aptitude to aim at the mean both in
feelings and actions, all this has been set forth fully and sufficiently.

And so it is hard to be good: for surely hard it is in each instance to find
the mean, just as to find the mean point or centre of a circle is not what any
man can do, but only he who knows how: just so to be angry, to give money, and
be expensive, is what any man can do, and easy: but to do these to the right
person, in due proportion, at the right time, with a right object, and in the
right manner, this is not as before what any man can do, nor is it easy; and
for this cause goodness is rare, and praiseworthy, and noble.

Therefore he who aims at the mean should make it his first care to keep away
from that extreme which is more contrary than the other to the mean; just as
Calypso in Homer advises Ulysses,

“Clear of this smoke and surge thy barque direct;”

because of the two extremes the one is always more, and the other less,
erroneous; and, therefore, since to hit exactly on the mean is difficult, one
must take the least of the evils as the safest plan;^[21]
and this a man will be doing, if he follows this method.

We ought also to take into consideration our own natural bias; which varies in
each man’s case, and will be ascertained from the pleasure and pain
arising in us. Furthermore, we should force ourselves off in the contrary
direction, because we shall find ourselves in the mean after we have removed
ourselves far from the wrong side, exactly as men do in straightening bent
timber.^[22]

But in all cases we must guard most carefully against what is pleasant, and
pleasure itself, because we are not impartial judges of it.

We ought to feel in fact towards pleasure as did the old counsellors towards
Helen, and in all cases pronounce a similar sentence; for so by sending it away
from us, we shall err the less.^[23]

Well, to speak very briefly, these are the precautions by adopting which we
shall be best able to attain the mean.

Still, perhaps, after all it is a matter of difficulty, and specially in the
particular instances: it is not easy, for instance, to determine exactly in
what manner, with what persons, for what causes, and for what length of time,
one ought to feel anger: for we ourselves sometimes praise those who are
defective in this feeling, and we call them meek; at another, we term the
hot-tempered manly and spirited.

Then, again, he who makes a small deflection from what is right, be it on the
side of too much or too little, is not blamed, only he who makes a considerable
one; for he cannot escape observation. But to what point or degree a man must
err in order to incur blame, it is not easy to determine exactly in words: nor
in fact any of those points which are matter of perception by the Moral Sense:
such questions are matters of detail, and the decision of them rests with the
Moral Sense.^[24]

At all events thus much is plain, that the mean state is in all things
praiseworthy, and that practically we must deflect sometimes towards excess
sometimes towards defect, because this will be the easiest method of hitting on
the mean, that is, on what is right.

BOOK III

Chapter I.

Now since Virtue is concerned with the regulation of feelings and actions, and
praise and blame arise upon such as are voluntary, while for the involuntary
allowance is made, and sometimes compassion is excited, it is perhaps a
necessary task for those who are investigating the nature of Virtue to draw out
the distinction between what is voluntary and what involuntary; and it is
certainly useful for legislators, with respect to the assigning of honours and
punishments.

Involuntary actions then are thought to be of two kinds, being done either on
compulsion, or by reason of ignorance. An action is, properly speaking,
compulsory, when the origination is external to the agent, being such that in
it the agent (perhaps we may more properly say the patient) contributes
nothing; as if a wind were to convey you anywhere, or men having power over
your person.

But when actions are done, either from fear of greater evils, or from some
honourable motive, as, for instance, if you were ordered to commit some base
act by a despot who had your parents or children in his power, and they were to
be saved upon your compliance or die upon your refusal, in such cases there is
room for a question whether the actions are voluntary or involuntary.

A similar question arises with respect to cases of throwing goods overboard in
a storm: abstractedly no man throws away his property willingly, but with a
view to his own and his shipmates’ safety any one would who had any
sense.

The truth is, such actions are of a mixed kind, but are most like voluntary
actions; for they are choice-worthy at the time when they are being done, and
the end or object of the action must be taken with reference to the actual
occasion. Further, we must denominate an action voluntary or involuntary at the
time of doing it: now in the given case the man acts voluntarily, because the
originating of the motion of his limbs in such actions rests with himself; and
where the origination is in himself it rests with himself to do or not to do.

Such actions then are voluntary, though in the abstract perhaps involuntary
because no one would choose any of such things in and by itself.

But for such actions men sometimes are even praised, as when they endure any
disgrace or pain to secure great and honourable equivalents; if vice
versâ, then they are blamed, because it shows a base mind to endure things
very disgraceful for no honourable object, or for a trifling one.

For some again no praise is given, but allowance is made; as where a man does
what he should not by reason of such things as overstrain the powers of human
nature, or pass the limits of human endurance.

Some acts perhaps there are for which compulsion cannot be pleaded, but a man
should rather suffer the worst and die; how absurd, for instance, are the pleas
of compulsion with which Alcmaeon in Euripides’ play excuses his
matricide!

But it is difficult sometimes to decide what kind of thing should be chosen
instead of what, or what endured in preference to what, and much moreso to
abide by one’s decisions: for in general the alternatives are painful,
and the actions required are base, and so praise or blame is awarded according
as persons have been compelled or no.

What kind of actions then are to be called compulsory? may we say, simply and
abstractedly whenever the cause is external and the agent contributes nothing;
and that where the acts are in themselves such as one would not wish but
choice-worthy at the present time and in preference to such and such things,
and where the origination rests with the agent, the actions are in themselves
involuntary but at the given time and in preference to such and such things
voluntary; and they are more like voluntary than involuntary, because the
actions consist of little details, and these are voluntary.

But what kind of things one ought to choose instead of what, it is not easy to
settle, for there are many differences in particular instances.

But suppose a person should say, things pleasant and honourable exert a
compulsive force (for that they are external and do compel); at that rate every
action is on compulsion, because these are universal motives of action.

Again, they who act on compulsion and against their will do so with pain; but
they who act by reason of what is pleasant or honourable act with pleasure.

It is truly absurd for a man to attribute his actions to external things
instead of to his own capacity for being easily caught by them;^[1]
or, again, to ascribe the honourable to himself, and the base ones to pleasure.

So then that seems to be compulsory “whose origination is from without,
the party compelled contributing nothing.”

Chapter II.

Now every action of which ignorance is the cause is not-voluntary, but that
only is involuntary which is attended with pain and remorse; for clearly the
man who has done anything by reason of ignorance, but is not annoyed at his own
action, cannot be said to have done it with his will because he did not
know he was doing it, nor again against his will because he is not sorry
for it.

So then of the class “acting by reason of ignorance,” he who feels
regret afterwards is thought to be an involuntary agent, and him that has no
such feeling, since he certainly is different from the other, we will call a
not-voluntary agent; for as there is a real difference it is better to have a
proper name.

Again, there seems to be a difference between acting because of
ignorance and acting with ignorance: for instance, we do not usually
assign ignorance as the cause of the actions of the drunken or angry man, but
either the drunkenness or the anger, yet they act not knowingly but with
ignorance.

Again, every bad man is ignorant what he ought to do and what to leave undone,
and by reason of such error men become unjust and wholly evil.

Again, we do not usually apply the term involuntary when a man is ignorant of
his own true interest;^[2]
because ignorance which affects moral choice^[3]
constitutes depravity but not involuntariness: nor does any ignorance of
principle (because for this men are blamed) but ignorance in particular
details, wherein consists the action and wherewith it is concerned, for in
these there is both compassion and allowance, because he who acts in ignorance
of any of them acts in a proper sense involuntarily.

It may be as well, therefore, to define these particular details; what they
are, and how many; viz. who acts, what he is doing, with respect to what or in
what, sometimes with what, as with what instrument, and with what result;^[4]
as that of preservation, for instance, and how, as whether softly or violently.

All these particulars, in one and the same case, no man in his senses could be
ignorant of; plainly not of the agent, being himself. But what he is doing a
man may be ignorant, as men in speaking say a thing escaped them unawares; or
as Aeschylus did with respect to the Mysteries, that he was not aware that it
was unlawful to speak of them; or as in the case of that catapult accident the
other day the man said he discharged it merely to display its operation. Or a
person might suppose a son to be an enemy, as Merope did; or that the spear
really pointed was rounded off; or that the stone was a pumice; or in striking
with a view to save might kill; or might strike when merely wishing to show
another, as people do in sham-fighting.

Now since ignorance is possible in respect to all these details in which the
action consists, he that acted in ignorance of any of them is thought to have
acted involuntarily, and he most so who was in ignorance as regards the most
important, which are thought to be those in which the action consists, and the
result.

Further, not only must the ignorance be of this kind, to constitute an action
involuntary, but it must be also understood that the action is followed by pain
and regret.

Chapter III.

Now since all involuntary action is either upon compulsion or by reason of
ignorance, Voluntary Action would seem to be “that whose origination is
in the agent, he being aware of the particular details in which the action
consists.”

For, it may be, men are not justified by calling those actions involuntary,
which are done by reason of Anger or Lust.

Because, in the first place, if this be so no other animal but man, and not
even children, can be said to act voluntarily. Next, is it meant that we never
act voluntarily when we act from Lust or Anger, or that we act voluntarily in
doing what is right and involuntarily in doing what is discreditable? The
latter supposition is absurd, since the cause is one and the same. Then as to
the former, it is a strange thing to maintain actions to be involuntary which
we are bound to grasp at: now there are occasions on which anger is a duty,^[5]
and there are things which we are bound to lust after,^[6]
health, for instance, and learning.

Again, whereas actions strictly involuntary are thought to be attended with
pain, those which are done to gratify lust are thought to be pleasant.

Again: how does the involuntariness make any difference^[7]
between wrong actions done from deliberate calculation, and those done by
reason of anger? for both ought to be avoided, and the irrational feelings are
thought to be just as natural to man as reason, and so of course must be such
actions of the individual as are done from Anger and Lust. It is absurd then to
class these actions among the involuntary.

Chapter IV.

Having thus drawn out the distinction between voluntary and involuntary action
our next step is to examine into the nature of Moral Choice, because this seems
most intimately connected with Virtue and to be a more decisive test of moral
character than a man’s acts are.

Now Moral Choice is plainly voluntary, but the two are not co-extensive,
voluntary being the more comprehensive term; for first, children and all other
animals share in voluntary action but not in Moral Choice; and next, sudden
actions we call voluntary but do not ascribe them to Moral Choice.

Nor do they appear to be right who say it is lust or anger, or wish, or opinion
of a certain kind; because, in the first place, Moral Choice is not shared by
the irrational animals while Lust and Anger are. Next; the man who fails of
self-control acts from Lust but not from Moral Choice; the man of self-control,
on the contrary, from Moral Choice, not from Lust. Again: whereas Lust is
frequently opposed to Moral Choice, Lust is not to Lust.

Lastly: the object-matter of Lust is the pleasant and the painful, but of Moral
Choice neither the one nor the other. Still less can it be Anger, because
actions done from Anger are thought generally to be least of all consequent on
Moral Choice.

Nor is it Wish either, though appearing closely connected with it; because, in
the first place, Moral Choice has not for its objects impossibilities, and if a
man were to say he chose them he would be thought to be a fool; but Wish may
have impossible things for its objects, immortality for instance.

Wish again may be exercised on things in the accomplishment of which
one’s self could have nothing to do, as the success of any particular
actor or athlete; but no man chooses things of this nature, only such as he
believes he may himself be instrumental in procuring.

Further: Wish has for its object the End rather, but Moral Choice the means to
the End; for instance, we wish to be healthy but we choose the means which will
make us so; or happiness again we wish for, and commonly say so, but to say we
choose is not an appropriate term, because, in short, the province of Moral
Choice seems to be those things which are in our own power.

Neither can it be Opinion; for Opinion is thought to be unlimited in its range
of objects, and to be exercised as well upon things eternal and impossible as
on those which are in our own power: again, Opinion is logically divided into
true and false, not into good and bad as Moral Choice is.

However, nobody perhaps maintains its identity with Opinion simply; but it is
not the same with opinion of any kind,^[8]
because by choosing good and bad things we are constituted of a certain
character, but by having opinions on them we are not.

Again, we choose to take or avoid, and so on, but we opine what a thing is, or
for what it is serviceable, or how; but we do not opine to take or avoid.

Further, Moral Choice is commended rather for having a right object than for
being judicious, but Opinion for being formed in accordance with truth.

Again, we choose such things as we pretty well know to be good, but we form
opinions respecting such as we do not know at all.

And it is not thought that choosing and opining best always go together, but
that some opine the better course and yet by reason of viciousness choose not
the things which they should.

It may be urged, that Opinion always precedes or accompanies Moral Choice; be
it so, this makes no difference, for this is not the point in question, but
whether Moral Choice is the same as Opinion of a certain kind.

Since then it is none of the aforementioned things, what is it, or how is it
characterised? Voluntary it plainly is, but not all voluntary action is an
object of Moral Choice. May we not say then, it is “that voluntary which
has passed through a stage of previous deliberation?” because Moral
Choice is attended with reasoning and intellectual process. The etymology of
its Greek name seems to give a hint of it, being when analysed “chosen in
preference to somewhat else.”

Chapter V.

Well then; do men deliberate about everything, and is anything soever the
object of Deliberation, or are there some matters with respect to which there
is none? (It may be as well perhaps to say, that by “object of
Deliberation” is meant such matter as a sensible man would deliberate
upon, not what any fool or madman might.)

Well: about eternal things no one deliberates; as, for instance, the universe,
or the incommensurability of the diameter and side of a square.

Nor again about things which are in motion but which always happen in the same
way either necessarily, or naturally, or from some other cause, as the
solstices or the sunrise.

Nor about those which are variable, as drought and rains; nor fortuitous
matters, as finding of treasure.

Nor in fact even about all human affairs; no Lacedæmonian, for instance,
deliberates as to the best course for the Scythian government to adopt; because
in such cases we have no power over the result.

But we do deliberate respecting such practical matters as are in our own power
(which are what are left after all our exclusions).

I have adopted this division because causes seem to be divisible into nature,
necessity, chance, and moreover intellect, and all human powers.

And as man in general deliberates about what man in general can effect, so
individuals do about such practical things as can be effected through their own
instrumentality.

Again, we do not deliberate respecting such arts or sciences as are exact and
independent: as, for instance, about written characters, because we have no
doubt how they should be formed; but we do deliberate on all buch things as are
usually done through our own instrumentality, but not invariably in the same
way; as, for instance, about matters connected with the healing art, or with
money-making; and, again, more about piloting ships than gymnastic exercises,
because the former has been less exactly determined, and so forth; and more
about arts than sciences, because we more frequently doubt respecting the
former.

So then Deliberation takes place in such matters as are under general laws, but
still uncertain how in any given case they will issue, i.e. in which
there is some indefiniteness; and for great matters we associate coadjutors in
counsel, distrusting our ability to settle them alone.

Further, we deliberate not about Ends, but Means to Ends. No physician, for
instance, deliberates whether he will cure, nor orator whether he will
persuade, nor statesman whether he will produce a good constitution, nor in
fact any man in any other function about his particular End; but having set
before them a certain End they look how and through what means it may be
accomplished: if there is a choice of means, they examine further which are
easiest and most creditable; or, if there is but one means of accomplishing the
object, then how it may be through this, this again through what, till they
come to the first cause; and this will be the last found; for a man engaged in
a process of deliberation seems to seek and analyse, as a man, to solve a
problem, analyses the figure given him. And plainly not every search is
Deliberation, those in mathematics to wit, but every Deliberation is a search,
and the last step in the analysis is the first in the constructive process. And
if in the course of their search men come upon an impossibility, they give it
up; if money, for instance, be necessary, but cannot be got: but if the thing
appears possible they then attempt to do it.

And by possible I mean what may be done through our own instrumentality (of
course what may be done through our friends is through our own instrumentality
in a certain sense, because the origination in such cases rests with us). And
the object of search is sometimes the necessary instruments, sometimes the
method of using them; and similarly in the rest sometimes through what, and
sometimes how or through what.^[9]

So it seems, as has been said, that Man is the originator of his actions; and
Deliberation has for its object whatever may be done through one’s own
instrumentality, and the actions are with a view to other things; and so it is,
not the End, but the Means to Ends on which Deliberation is employed.

Nor, again, is it employed on matters of detail, as whether the substance
before me is bread, or has been properly cooked; for these come under the
province of sense, and if a man is to be always deliberating, he may go on
ad infinitum.

Further, exactly the same matter is the object both of Deliberation and Moral
Choice; but that which is the object of Moral Choice is thenceforward separated
off and definite,^[10]
because by object of Moral Choice is denoted that which after Deliberation has
been preferred to something else: for each man leaves off searching how he
shall do a thing when he has brought the origination up to himself, i.e.
to the governing principle in himself,^[11]
because it is this which makes the choice. A good illustration of this is
furnished by the old regal constitutions which Homer drew from, in which the
Kings would announce to the commonalty what they had determined before.

Now since that which is the object of Moral Choice is something in our own
power, which is the object of deliberation and the grasping of the Will, Moral
Choice must be “a grasping after something in our own power consequent
upon Deliberation:” because after having deliberated we decide, and then
grasp by our Will in accordance with the result of our deliberation.^[12]

Let this be accepted as a sketch of the nature and object of Moral Choice, that
object being “Means to Ends.”

Chapter VI.

That Wish has for its object-matter the End, has been already stated; but there
are two opinions respecting it; some thinking that its object is real good,
others whatever impresses the mind with a notion of good.

Now those who maintain that the object of Wish is real good are beset by this
difficulty, that what is wished for by him who chooses wrongly is not really an
object of Wish (because, on their theory, if it is an object of wish, it must
be good, but it is, in the case supposed, evil). Those who maintain, on the
contrary, that that which impresses the mind with a notion of good is properly
the object of Wish, have to meet this difficulty, that there is nothing
naturally an object of Wish but to each individual whatever seems good to him;
now different people have different notions, and it may chance contrary ones.

But, if these opinions do not satisfy us, may we not say that, abstractedly and
as a matter of objective truth, the really good is the object of Wish, but to
each individual whatever impresses his mind with the notion of good.^[13]
And so to the good man that is an object of Wish which is really and truly so,
but to the bad man anything may be; just as physically those things are
wholesome to the healthy which are really so, but other things to the sick. And
so too of bitter and sweet, and hot and heavy, and so on. For the good man
judges in every instance correctly, and in every instance the notion conveyed
to his mind is the true one.

For there are fair and pleasant things peculiar to, and so varying with, each
state; and perhaps the most distinguishing characteristic of the good man is
his seeing the truth in every instance, he being, in fact, the rule and measure
of these matters.

The multitude of men seem to be deceived by reason of pleasure, because though
it is not really a good it impresses their minds with the notion of goodness,
so they choose what is pleasant as good and avoid pain as an evil.

Chapter VII.

Now since the End is the object of Wish, and the means to the End of
Deliberation and Moral Choice, the actions regarding these matters must be in
the way of Moral Choice, i.e. voluntary: but the acts of working out the
virtues are such actions, and therefore Virtue is in our power.

And so too is Vice: because wherever it is in our power to do it is also in our
power to forbear doing, and vice versâ: therefore if the doing (being in
a given case creditable) is in our power, so too is the forbearing (which is in
the same case discreditable), and vice versâ.

But if it is in our power to do and to forbear doing what is creditable or the
contrary, and these respectively constitute the being good or bad, then the
being good or vicious characters is in our power.

As for the well-known saying, “No man voluntarily is wicked or
involuntarily happy,” it is partly true, partly false; for no man is
happy against his will, of course, but wickedness is voluntary. Or must we
dispute the statements lately made, and not say that Man is the originator or
generator of his actions as much as of his children?

But if this is matter of plain manifest fact, and we cannot refer our actions
to any other originations beside those in our own power, those things must be
in our own power, and so voluntary, the originations of which are in ourselves.

Moreover, testimony seems to be borne to these positions both privately by
individuals, and by law-givers too, in that they chastise and punish those who
do wrong (unless they do so on compulsion, or by reason of ignorance which is
not self-caused), while they honour those who act rightly, under the notion of
being likely to encourage the latter and restrain the former. But such things
as are not in our own power, i.e. not voluntary, no one thinks of
encouraging us to do, knowing it to be of no avail for one to have been
persuaded not to be hot (for instance), or feel pain, or be hungry, and so
forth, because we shall have those sensations all the same.

And what makes the case stronger is this: that they chastise for the very fact
of ignorance, when it is thought to be self-caused; to the drunken, for
instance, penalties are double, because the origination in such case lies in a
man’s own self: for he might have helped getting drunk, and this is the
cause of his ignorance.

Again, those also who are ignorant of legal regulations which they are bound to
know, and which are not hard to know, they chastise; and similarly in all other
cases where neglect is thought to be the cause of the ignorance, under the
notion that it was in their power to prevent their ignorance, because they
might have paid attention.

But perhaps a man is of such a character that he cannot attend to such things:
still men are themselves the causes of having become such characters by living
carelessly, and also of being unjust or destitute of self-control, the former
by doing evil actions, the latter by spending their time in drinking and
such-like; because the particular acts of working form corresponding
characters, as is shown by those who are practising for any contest or
particular course of action, for such men persevere in the acts of working.

As for the plea, that a man did not know that habits are produced from separate
acts of working, we reply, such ignorance is a mark of excessive stupidity.

Furthermore, it is wholly irrelevant to say that the man who acts unjustly or
dissolutely does not wish to attain the habits of these vices: for if a
man wittingly does those things whereby he must become unjust he is to all
intents and purposes unjust voluntarily; but he cannot with a wish cease to be
unjust and become just. For, to take the analogous case, the sick man cannot
with a wish be well again, yet in a supposable case he is voluntarily ill
because he has produced his sickness by living intemperately and disregarding
his physicians. There was a time then when he might have helped being ill, but
now he has let himself go he cannot any longer; just as he who has let a stone
out of his hand cannot recall it,^[14]
and yet it rested with him to aim and throw it, because the origination was in
his power. Just so the unjust man, and he who has lost all self-control, might
originally have helped being what they are, and so they are voluntarily what
they are; but now that they are become so they no longer have the power of
being otherwise.

And not only are mental diseases voluntary, but the bodily are so in some men,
whom we accordingly blame: for such as are naturally deformed no one blames,
only such as are so by reason of want of exercise, and neglect: and so too of
weakness and maiming: no one would think of upbraiding, but would rather
compassionate, a man who is blind by nature, or from disease, or from an
accident; but every one would blame him who was so from excess of wine, or any
other kind of intemperance. It seems, then, that in respect of bodily diseases,
those which depend on ourselves are censured, those which do not are not
censured; and if so, then in the case of the mental disorders, those which are
censured must depend upon ourselves.

But suppose a man to say, “that (by our own admission) all men aim at
that which conveys to their minds an impression of good, and that men have no
control over this impression, but that the End impresses each with a notion
correspondent to his own individual character; that to be sure if each man is
in a way the cause of his own moral state, so he will be also of the kind of
impression he receives: whereas, if this is not so, no one is the cause to
himself of doing evil actions, but he does them by reason of ignorance of the
true End, supposing that through their means he will secure the chief good.
Further, that this aiming at the End is no matter of one’s own choice,
but one must be born with a power of mental vision, so to speak, whereby to
judge fairly and choose that which is really good; and he is blessed by nature
who has this naturally well: because it is the most important thing and the
fairest, and what a man cannot get or learn from another but will have such as
nature has given it; and for this to be so given well and fairly would be
excellence of nature in the highest and truest sense.”

If all this be true, how will Virtue be a whit more voluntary than Vice? Alike
to the good man and the bad, the End gives its impression and is fixed by
nature or howsoever you like to say, and they act so and so, referring
everything else to this End.

Whether then we suppose that the End impresses each man’s mind with
certain notions not merely by nature, but that there is somewhat also dependent
on himself; or that the End is given by nature, and yet Virtue is voluntary
because the good man does all the rest voluntarily, Vice must be equally so;
because his own agency equally attaches to the bad man in the actions, even if
not in the selection of the End.

If then, as is commonly said, the Virtues are voluntary (because we at least
cooperate^[15]
in producing our moral states, and we assume the End to be of a certain kind
according as we are ourselves of certain characters), the Vices must be
voluntary also, because the cases are exactly similar.

Chapter VIII.

Well now, we have stated generally respecting the Moral Virtues, the genus (in
outline), that they are mean states, and that they are habits, and how they are
formed, and that they are of themselves calculated to act upon the
circumstances out of which they were formed, and that they are in our own power
and voluntary, and are to be done so as right Reason may direct.

But the particular actions and the habits are not voluntary in the same sense;
for of the actions we are masters from beginning to end (supposing of course a
knowledge of the particular details), but only of the origination of the
habits, the addition by small particular accessions not being cognisiable (as
is the case with sicknesses): still they are voluntary because it rested with
us to use our circumstances this way or that.

Chapter IX.

Here we will resume the particular discussion of the Moral Virtues, and say
what they are, what is their object-matter, and how they stand respectively
related to it: of course their number will be thereby shown.

First, then, of Courage. Now that it is a mean state, in respect of fear and
boldness, has been already said: further, the objects of our fears are
obviously things fearful or, in a general way of statement, evils; which
accounts for the common definition of fear, viz. “expectation of
evil.”

Of course we fear evils of all kinds: disgrace, for instance, poverty, disease,
desolateness, death; but not all these seem to be the object-matter of the
Brave man, because there are things which to fear is right and noble, and not
to fear is base; disgrace, for example, since he who fears this is a good man
and has a sense of honour, and he who does not fear it is shameless (though
there are those who call him Brave by analogy, because he somewhat resembles
the Brave man who agrees with him in being free from fear); but poverty,
perhaps, or disease, and in fact whatever does not proceed from viciousness,
nor is attributable to his own fault, a man ought not to fear: still, being
fearless in respect of these would not constitute a man Brave in the proper
sense of the term.

Yet we do apply the term^[16]
in right of the similarity of the cases; for there are men who, though timid in
the dangers of war, are liberal men and are stout enough to face loss of
wealth.

And, again, a man is not a coward for fearing insult to his wife or children,
or envy, or any such thing; nor is he a Brave man for being bold when going to
be scourged.

What kind of fearful things then do constitute the object-matter of the Brave
man? first of all, must they not be the greatest, since no man is more apt to
withstand what is dreadful. Now the object of the greatest dread is death,
because it is the end of all things, and the dead man is thought to be capable
neither of good nor evil. Still it would seem that the Brave man has not for
his object-matter even death in every circumstance; on the sea, for example, or
in sickness: in what circumstances then? must it not be in the most honourable?
now such is death in war, because it is death in the greatest and most
honourable danger; and this is confirmed by the honours awarded in communities,
and by monarchs.

He then may be most properly denominated Brave who is fearless in respect of
honourable death and such sudden emergencies as threaten death; now such
specially are those which arise in the course of war.

It is not meant but that the Brave man will be fearless also on the sea (and in
sickness), but not in the same way as sea-faring men; for these are
light-hearted and hopeful by reason of their experience, while landsmen though
Brave are apt to give themselves up for lost and shudder at the notion of such
a death: to which it should be added that Courage is exerted in circumstances
which admit of doing something to help one’s self, or in which death
would be honourable; now neither of these requisites attach to destruction by
drowning or sickness.

Chapter X.

Again, fearful is a term of relation, the same thing not being so to all, and
there is according to common parlance somewhat so fearful as to be beyond human
endurance: this of course would be fearful to every man of sense, but those
objects which are level to the capacity of man differ in magnitude and admit of
degrees, so too the objects of confidence or boldness.

Now the Brave man cannot be frighted from his propriety (but of course only so
far as he is man); fear such things indeed he will, but he will stand up
against them as he ought and as right reason may direct, with a view to what is
honourable, because this is the end of the virtue.

Now it is possible to fear these things too much, or too little, or again to
fear what is not really fearful as if it were such. So the errors come to be
either that a man fears when he ought not to fear at all, or that he fears in
an improper way, or at a wrong time, and so forth; and so too in respect of
things inspiring confidence. He is Brave then who withstands, and fears, and is
bold, in respect of right objects, from a right motive, in right manner, and at
right times: since the Brave man suffers or acts as he ought and as right
reason may direct.

Now the end of every separate act of working is that which accords with the
habit, and so to the Brave man Courage; which is honourable; therefore such is
also the End, since the character of each is determined by the End.^[17]

So honour is the motive from which the Brave man withstands things fearful and
performs the acts which accord with Courage.

Of the characters on the side of Excess, he who exceeds in utter absence of
fear has no appropriate name (I observed before that many states have none),
but he would be a madman or inaccessible to pain if he feared nothing, neither
earthquake, nor the billows, as they tell of the Celts.

He again who exceeds in confidence in respect of things fearful is rash. He is
thought moreover to be a braggart, and to advance unfounded claims to the
character of Brave: the relation which the Brave man really bears to objects of
fear this man wishes to appear to bear, and so imitates him in whatever points
he can; for this reason most of them exhibit a curious mixture of rashness and
cowardice; because, affecting rashness in these circumstances, they do not
withstand what is truly fearful.

The man moreover who exceeds in feeling fear is a coward, since there attach to
him the circumstances of fearing wrong objects, in wrong ways, and so forth. He
is deficient also in feeling confidence, but he is most clearly seen as
exceeding in the case of pains; he is a fainthearted kind of man, for he fears
all things: the Brave man is just the contrary, for boldness is the property of
the light-hearted and hopeful.

So the coward, the rash, and the Brave man have exactly the same object-matter,
but stand differently related to it: the two first-mentioned respectively
exceed and are deficient, the last is in a mean state and as he ought to be.
The rash again are precipitate, and, being eager before danger, when actually
in it fall away, while the Brave are quick and sharp in action, but before are
quiet and composed.

Well then, as has been said, Courage is a mean state in respect of objects
inspiring boldness or fear, in the circumstances which have been stated, and
the Brave man chooses his line and withstands danger either because to do so is
honourable, or because not to do so is base. But dying to escape from poverty,
or the pangs of love, or anything that is simply painful, is the act not of a
Brave man but of a coward; because it is mere softness to fly from what is
toilsome, and the suicide braves the terrors of death not because it is
honourable but to get out of the reach of evil.

Chapter XI.

Courage proper is somewhat of the kind I have described, but there are
dispositions, differing in five ways,^[18]
which also bear in common parlance the name of Courage.

We will take first that which bears most resemblance to the true, the Courage
of Citizenship, so named because the motives which are thought to actuate the
members of a community in braving danger are the penalties and disgrace held
out by the laws to cowardice, and the dignities conferred on the Brave; which
is thought to be the reason why those are the bravest people among whom cowards
are visited with disgrace and the Brave held in honour.

Such is the kind of Courage Homer exhibits in his characters; Diomed and Hector
for example. The latter says,

“Polydamas will be the first to fix
Disgrace upon me.”

Diomed again,

“For Hector surely will hereafter say,
Speaking in Troy, Tydides by my hand”—

This I say most nearly resembles the Courage before spoken of, because it
arises from virtue, from a feeling of shame, and a desire of what is noble
(that is, of honour), and avoidance of disgrace which is base.

In the same rank one would be inclined to place those also who act under
compulsion from their commanders; yet are they really lower, because not a
sense of honour but fear is the motive from which they act, and what they seek
to avoid is not that which is base but that which is simply painful: commanders
do in fact compel their men sometimes, as Hector says (to quote Homer again),

“But whomsoever I shall find cowering afar from the fight,
The teeth of dogs he shall by no means escape.”

Those commanders who station staunch troops by doubtful ones,^[19]
or who beat their men if they flinch, or who draw their troops up in line with
the trenches, or other similar obstacles, in their rear, do in effect the same
as Hector, for they all use compulsion.

But a man is to be Brave, not on compulsion, but from a sense of honour.

In the next place, Experience and Skill in the various particulars is thought
to be a species of Courage: whence Socrates also thought that Courage was
knowledge.^[20]

This quality is exhibited of course by different men under different
circumstances, but in warlike matters, with which we are now concerned, it is
exhibited by the soldiers (“the regulars”): for there are, it would
seem, many things in war of no real importance^[21]
which these have been constantly used to see; so they have a show of Courage
because other people are not aware of the real nature of these things. Then
again by reason of their skill they are better able than any others to inflict
without suffering themselves, because they are able to use their arms and have
such as are most serviceable both with a view to offence and defence: so that
their case is parallel to that of armed men fighting with unarmed or trained
athletes with amateurs, since in contests of this kind those are the best
fighters, not who are the bravest men, but who are the strongest and are in the
best condition.

In fact, the regular troops come to be cowards whenever the danger is greater
than their means of meeting it; supposing, for example, that they are inferior
in numbers and resources: then they are the first to fly, but the mere militia
stand and fall on the ground (which as you know really happened at the
Hermæum),^[22]
for in the eyes of these flight was disgraceful and death preferable to safety
bought at such a price: while “the regulars” originally went into
the danger under a notion of their own superiority, but on discovering their
error they took to flight,^[23]
having greater fear of death than of disgrace; but this is not the feeling of
the Brave man.

Thirdly, mere Animal Spirit is sometimes brought under the term Courage: they
are thought to be Brave who are carried on by mere Animal Spirit, as are wild
beasts against those who have wounded them, because in fact the really Brave
have much Spirit, there being nothing like it for going at danger of any kind;
whence those frequent expressions in Homer, “infused strength into his
spirit,” “roused his strength and spirit,” or again,
“and keen strength in his nostrils,” “his blood
boiled:” for all these seem to denote the arousing and impetuosity of the
Animal Spirit.

Now they that are truly Brave act from a sense of honour, and this Animal
Spirit co-operates with them; but wild beasts from pain, that is because they
have been wounded, or are frightened; since if they are quietly in their own
haunts, forest or marsh, they do not attack men. Surely they are not Brave
because they rush into danger when goaded on by pain and mere Spirit, without
any view of the danger: else would asses be Brave when they are hungry, for
though beaten they will not then leave their pasture: profligate men besides do
many bold actions by reason of their lust. We may conclude then that they are
not Brave who are goaded on to meet danger by pain and mere Spirit; but still
this temper which arises from Animal Spirit appears to be most natural, and
would be Courage of the true kind if it could have added to it moral choice and
the proper motive.

So men also are pained by a feeling of anger, and take pleasure in revenge; but
they who fight from these causes may be good fighters, but they are not truly
Brave (in that they do not act from a sense of honour, nor as reason directs,
but merely from the present feeling), still they bear some resemblance to that
character.

Nor, again, are the Sanguine and Hopeful therefore Brave: since their boldness
in dangers arises from their frequent victories over numerous foes. The two
characters are alike, however, in that both are confident; but then the Brave
are so from the afore-mentioned causes, whereas these are so from a settled
conviction of their being superior and not likely to suffer anything in return
(they who are intoxicated do much the same, for they become hopeful when in
that state); but when the event disappoints their expectations they run away:
now it was said to be the character of a Brave man to withstand things which
are fearful to man or produce that impression, because it is honourable so to
do and the contrary is dishonourable.

For this reason it is thought to be a greater proof of Courage to be fearless
and undisturbed under the pressure of sudden fear than under that which may be
anticipated, because Courage then comes rather from a fixed habit, or less from
preparation: since as to foreseen dangers a man might take his line even from
calculation and reasoning, but in those which are sudden he will do so
according to his fixed habit of mind.

Fifthly and lastly, those who are acting under Ignorance have a show of Courage
and are not very far from the Hopeful; but still they are inferior inasmuch as
they have no opinion of themselves; which the others have, and therefore stay
and contest a field for some little time; but they who have been deceived fly
the moment they know things to be otherwise than they supposed, which the
Argives experienced when they fell on the Lacedæmonians, taking them for the
men of Sicyon.

Chapter XII.

We have described then what kind of men the Brave are, and what they who are
thought to be, but are not really, Brave.

It must be remarked, however, that though Courage has for its object-matter
boldness and fear it has not both equally so, but objects of fear much more
than the former; for he that under pressure of these is undisturbed and stands
related to them as he ought is better entitled to the name of Brave than he who
is properly affected towards objects of confidence. So then men are termed
Brave for withstanding painful things.

It follows that Courage involves pain and is justly praised, since it is a
harder matter to withstand things that are painful than to abstain from such as
are pleasant.

It must not be thought but that the End and object of Courage is pleasant, but
it is obscured by the surrounding circumstances: which happens also in the
gymnastic games; to the boxers the End is pleasant with a view to which they
act, I mean the crown and the honours; but the receiving the blows they do is
painful and annoying to flesh and blood, and so is all the labour they have to
undergo; and, as these drawbacks are many, the object in view being small
appears to have no pleasantness in it.

If then we may say the same of Courage, of course death and wounds must be
painful to the Brave man and against his will: still he endures these because
it is honourable so to do or because it is dishonourable not to do so. And the
more complete his virtue and his happiness so much the more will he be pained
at the notion of death: since to such a man as he is it is best worth while to
live, and he with full consciousness is deprived of the greatest goods by
death, and this is a painful idea. But he is not the less Brave for feeling it
to be so, nay rather it may be he is shown to be more so because he chooses the
honour that may be reaped in war in preference to retaining safe possession of
these other goods. The fact is that to act with pleasure does not belong to all
the virtues, except so far as a man realises the End of his actions.

But there is perhaps no reason why not such men should make the best soldiers,
but those who are less truly Brave but have no other good to care for: these
being ready to meet danger and bartering their lives against small gain.

Let thus much be accepted as sufficient on the subject of Courage; the true
nature of which it is not difficult to gather, in outline at least, from what
has been said.

Chapter XIII.

Next let us speak of Perfected Self-Mastery, which seems to claim the next
place to Courage, since these two are the Excellences of the Irrational part of
the Soul.

That it is a mean state, having for its object-matter Pleasures, we have
already said (Pains being in fact its object-matter in a less degree and
dissimilar manner), the state of utter absence of self-control has plainly the
same object-matter; the next thing then is to determine what kind of Pleasures.

Let Pleasures then be understood to be divided into mental and bodily:
instances of the former being love of honour or of learning: it being plain
that each man takes pleasure in that of these two objects which he has a
tendency to like, his body being no way affected but rather his intellect. Now
men are not called perfectly self-mastering or wholly destitute of self-control
in respect of pleasures of this class: nor in fact in respect of any which are
not bodily; those for example who love to tell long stories, and are prosy, and
spend their days about mere chance matters, we call gossips but not wholly
destitute of self-control, nor again those who are pained at the loss of money
or friends.

It is bodily Pleasures then which are the object-matter of Perfected
Self-Mastery, but not even all these indifferently: I mean, that they who take
pleasure in objects perceived by the Sight, as colours, and forms, and
painting, are not denominated men of Perfected Self-Mastery, or wholly
destitute of self-control; and yet it would seem that one may take pleasure
even in such objects, as one ought to do, or excessively, or too little.

So too of objects perceived by the sense of Hearing; no one applies the terms
before quoted respectively to those who are excessively pleased with musical
tunes or acting, or to those who take such pleasure as they ought.

Nor again to those persons whose pleasure arises from the sense of Smell,
except incidentally:^[24]
I mean, we do not say men have no self-control because they take pleasure in
the scent of fruit, or flowers, or incense, but rather when they do so in the
smells of unguents and sauces: since men destitute of self-control take
pleasure herein, because hereby the objects of their lusts are recalled to
their imagination (you may also see other men take pleasure in the smell of
food when they are hungry): but to take pleasure in such is a mark of the
character before named since these are objects of desire to him.

Now not even brutes receive pleasure in right of these senses, except
incidentally. I mean, it is not the scent of hares’ flesh but the eating
it which dogs take pleasure in, perception of which pleasure is caused by the
sense of Smell. Or again, it is not the lowing of the ox but eating him which
the lion likes; but of the fact of his nearness the lion is made sensible by
the lowing, and so he appears to take pleasure in this. In like manner, he has
no pleasure in merely seeing or finding a stag or wild goat, but in the
prospect of a meal.

The habits of Perfect Self-Mastery and entire absence of self-control have then
for their object-matter such pleasures as brutes also share in, for which
reason they are plainly servile and brutish: they are Touch and Taste.

But even Taste men seem to make little or no use of; for to the sense of Taste
belongs the distinguishing of flavours; what men do, in fact, who are testing
the quality of wines or seasoning “made dishes.”

But men scarcely take pleasure at all in these things, at least those whom we
call destitute of self-control do not, but only in the actual enjoyment which
arises entirely from the sense of Touch, whether in eating or in drinking, or
in grosser lusts. This accounts for the wish said to have been expressed once
by a great glutton, “that his throat had been formed longer than a
crane’s neck,” implying that his pleasure was derived from the
Touch.

The sense then with which is connected the habit of absence of self-control is
the most common of all the senses, and this habit would seem to be justly a
matter of reproach, since it attaches to us not in so far as we are men but in
so far as we are animals. Indeed it is brutish to take pleasure in such things
and to like them best of all; for the most respectable of the pleasures arising
from the touch have been set aside; those, for instance, which occur in the
course of gymnastic training from the rubbing and the warm bath: because the
touch of the man destitute of self-control is not indifferently of any
part of the body but only of particular parts.

Now of lusts or desires some are thought to be universal, others peculiar and
acquired; thus desire for food is natural since every one who really needs
desires also food, whether solid or liquid, or both (and, as Homer says, the
man in the prime of youth needs and desires intercourse with the other sex);
but when we come to this or that particular kind, then neither is the desire
universal nor in all men is it directed to the same objects. And therefore the
conceiving of such desires plainly attaches to us as individuals. It must be
admitted, however, that there is something natural in it: because different
things are pleasant to different men and a preference of some particular
objects to chance ones is universal. Well then, in the case of the desires
which are strictly and properly natural few men go wrong and all in one
direction, that is, on the side of too much: I mean, to eat and drink of such
food as happens to be on the table till one is overfilled is exceeding in
quantity the natural limit, since the natural desire is simply a supply of a
real deficiency.

For this reason these men are called belly-mad, as filling it beyond what they
ought, and it is the slavish who become of this character.

But in respect of the peculiar pleasures many men go wrong and in many
different ways; for whereas the term “fond of so and so” implies
either taking pleasure in wrong objects, or taking pleasure excessively, or as
the mass of men do, or in a wrong way, they who are destitute of all
self-control exceed in all these ways; that is to say, they take pleasure in
some things in which they ought not to do so (because they are properly objects
of detestation), and in such as it is right to take pleasure in they do so more
than they ought and as the mass of men do.

Well then, that excess with respect to pleasures is absence of self-control,
and blameworthy, is plain. But viewing these habits on the side of pains, we
find that a man is not said to have the virtue for withstanding them (as in the
case of Courage), nor the vice for not withstanding them; but the man destitute
of self-control is such, because he is pained more than he ought to be at not
obtaining things which are pleasant (and thus his pleasure produces pain to
him), and the man of Perfected Self-Mastery is such in virtue of not being
pained by their absence, that is, by having to abstain from what is pleasant.

Now the man destitute of self-control desires either all pleasant things
indiscriminately or those which are specially pleasant, and he is impelled by
his desire to choose these things in preference to all others; and this
involves pain, not only when he misses the attainment of his objects but, in
the very desiring them, since all desire is accompanied by pain. Surely it is a
strange case this, being pained by reason of pleasure.

As for men who are defective on the side of pleasure, who take less pleasure in
things than they ought, they are almost imaginary characters, because such
absence of sensual perception is not natural to man: for even the other animals
distinguish between different kinds of food, and like some kinds and dislike
others. In fact, could a man be found who takes no pleasure in anything and to
whom all things are alike, he would be far from being human at all: there is no
name for such a character because it is simply imaginary.

But the man of Perfected Self-Mastery is in the mean with respect to these
objects: that is to say, he neither takes pleasure in the things which delight
the vicious man, and in fact rather dislikes them, nor at all in improper
objects; nor to any great degree in any object of the class; nor is he pained
at their absence; nor does he desire them; or, if he does, only in moderation,
and neither more than he ought, nor at improper times, and so forth; but such
things as are conducive to health and good condition of body, being also
pleasant, these he will grasp at in moderation and as he ought to do, and also
such other pleasant things as do not hinder these objects, and are not unseemly
or disproportionate to his means; because he that should grasp at such would be
liking such pleasures more than is proper; but the man of Perfected
Self-Mastery is not of this character, but regulates his desires by the
dictates of right reason.

Chapter XIV.

Now the vice of being destitute of all Self-Control seems to be more truly
voluntary than Cowardice, because pleasure is the cause of the former and pain
of the latter, and pleasure is an object of choice, pain of avoidance. And
again, pain deranges and spoils the natural disposition of its victim, whereas
pleasure has no such effect and is more voluntary and therefore more justly
open to reproach.

It is so also for the following reason; that it is easier to be inured by habit
to resist the objects of pleasure, there being many things of this kind in life
and the process of habituation being unaccompanied by danger; whereas the case
is the reverse as regards the objects of fear.

Again, Cowardice as a confirmed habit would seem to be voluntary in a different
way from the particular instances which form the habit; because it is painless,
but these derange the man by reason of pain so that he throws away his arms and
otherwise behaves himself unseemly, for which reason they are even thought by
some to exercise a power of compulsion.

But to the man destitute of Self-Control the particular instances are on the
contrary quite voluntary, being done with desire and direct exertion of the
will, but the general result is less voluntary: since no man desires to form
the habit.

The name of this vice (which signifies etymologically unchastened-ness) we
apply also to the faults of children, there being a certain resemblance between
the cases: to which the name is primarily applied, and to which secondarily or
derivatively, is not relevant to the present subject, but it is evident that
the later in point of time must get the name from the earlier. And the metaphor
seems to be a very good one; for whatever grasps after base things, and is
liable to great increase, ought to be chastened; and to this description desire
and the child answer most truly, in that children also live under the direction
of desire and the grasping after what is pleasant is most prominently seen in
these.

Unless then the appetite be obedient and subjected to the governing principle
it will become very great: for in the fool the grasping after what is pleasant
is insatiable and undiscriminating; and every acting out of the desire
increases the kindred habit, and if the desires are great and violent in degree
they even expel Reason entirely; therefore they ought to be moderate and few,
and in no respect to be opposed to Reason. Now when the appetite is in such a
state we denominate it obedient and chastened.

In short, as the child ought to live with constant regard to the orders of its
educator, so should the appetitive principle with regard to those of Reason.

So then in the man of Perfected Self-Mastery, the appetitive principle must be
accordant with Reason: for what is right is the mark at which both principles
aim: that is to say, the man of perfected self-mastery desires what he ought in
right manner and at right times, which is exactly what Reason directs. Let this
be taken for our account of Perfected Self-Mastery.

BOOK IV

Chapter I.

We will next speak of Liberality. Now this is thought to be the mean state,
having for its object-matter Wealth: I mean, the Liberal man is praised not in
the circumstances of war, nor in those which constitute the character of
perfected self-mastery, nor again in judicial decisions, but in respect of
giving and receiving Wealth, chiefly the former. By the term Wealth I mean
“all those things whose worth is measured by money.”

Now the states of excess and defect in regard of Wealth are respectively
Prodigality and Stinginess: the latter of these terms we attach invariably to
those who are over careful about Wealth, but the former we apply sometimes with
a complex notion; that is to say, we give the name to those who fail of
self-control and spend money on the unrestrained gratification of their
passions; and this is why they are thought to be most base, because they have
many vices at once.

It must be noted, however, that this is not a strict and proper use of the
term, since its natural etymological meaning is to denote him who has one
particular evil, viz. the wasting his substance: he is unsaved (as the term
literally denotes) who is wasting away by his own fault; and this he really may
be said to be; the destruction of his substance is thought to be a kind of
wasting of himself, since these things are the means of living. Well, this is
our acceptation of the term Prodigality.

Again. Whatever things are for use may be used well or ill, and Wealth belongs
to this class. He uses each particular thing best who has the virtue to whose
province it belongs: so that he will use Wealth best who has the virtue
respecting Wealth, that is to say, the Liberal man.

Expenditure and giving are thought to be the using of money, but receiving and
keeping one would rather call the possessing of it. And so the giving to proper
persons is more characteristic of the Liberal man, than the receiving from
proper quarters and forbearing to receive from the contrary. In fact generally,
doing well by others is more characteristic of virtue than being done well by,
and doing things positively honourable than forbearing to do things
dishonourable; and any one may see that the doing well by others and doing
things positively honourable attaches to the act of giving, but to that of
receiving only the being done well by or forbearing to do what is
dishonourable.

Besides, thanks are given to him who gives, not to him who merely forbears to
receive, and praise even more. Again, forbearing to receive is easier than
giving, the case of being too little freehanded with one’s own being
commoner than taking that which is not one’s own.

And again, it is they who give that are denominated Liberal, while they who
forbear to receive are commended, not on the score of Liberality but of just
dealing, while for receiving men are not, in fact, praised at all.

And the Liberal are liked almost best of all virtuous characters, because they
are profitable to others, and this their profitableness consists in their
giving.

Furthermore: all the actions done in accordance with virtue are honourable, and
done from the motive of honour: and the Liberal man, therefore, will give from
a motive of honour, and will give rightly; I mean, to proper persons, in right
proportion, at right times, and whatever is included in the term “right
giving:” and this too with positive pleasure, or at least without pain,
since whatever is done in accordance with virtue is pleasant or at least not
unpleasant, most certainly not attended with positive pain.

But the man who gives to improper people, or not from a motive of honour but
from some other cause, shall be called not Liberal but something else. Neither
shall he be so denominated who does it with pain: this being a sign that he
would prefer his wealth to the honourable action, and this is no part of the
Liberal man’s character; neither will such an one receive from improper
sources, because the so receiving is not characteristic of one who values not
wealth: nor again will he be apt to ask, because one who does kindnesses to
others does not usually receive them willingly; but from proper sources (his
own property, for instance) he will receive, doing this not as honourable but
as necessary, that he may have somewhat to give: neither will he be careless of
his own, since it is his wish through these to help others in need: nor will he
give to chance people, that he may have wherewith to give to those to whom he
ought, at right times, and on occasions when it is honourable so to do.

Again, it is a trait in the Liberal man’s character even to exceed very
much in giving so as to leave too little for himself, it being characteristic
of such an one not to have a thought of self.

Now Liberality is a term of relation to a man’s means, for the
Liberal-ness depends not on the amount of what is given but on the moral state
of the giver which gives in proportion to his means. There is then no reason
why he should not be the more Liberal man who gives the less amount, if he has
less to give out of.

Again, they are thought to be more Liberal who have inherited, not acquired for
themselves, their means; because, in the first place, they have never
experienced want, and next, all people love most their own works, just as
parents do and poets.

It is not easy for the Liberal man to be rich, since he is neither apt to
receive nor to keep but to lavish, and values not wealth for its own sake but
with a view to giving it away. Hence it is commonly charged upon fortune that
they who most deserve to be rich are least so. Yet this happens reasonably
enough; it is impossible he should have wealth who does not take any care to
have it, just as in any similar case.

Yet he will not give to improper people, nor at wrong times, and so on: because
he would not then be acting in accordance with Liberality, and if he spent upon
such objects, would have nothing to spend on those on which he ought: for, as I
have said before, he is Liberal who spends in proportion to his means, and on
proper objects, while he who does so in excess is prodigal (this is the reason
why we never call despots prodigal, because it does not seem to be easy for
them by their gifts and expenditure to go beyond their immense possessions).

To sum up then. Since Liberality is a mean state in respect of the giving and
receiving of wealth, the Liberal man will give and spend on proper objects, and
in proper proportion, in great things and in small alike, and all this with
pleasure to himself; also he will receive from right sources, and in right
proportion: because, as the virtue is a mean state in respect of both, he will
do both as he ought, and, in fact, upon proper giving follows the correspondent
receiving, while that which is not such is contrary to it. (Now those which
follow one another come to co-exist in the same person, those which are
contraries plainly do not.)

Again, should it happen to him to spend money beyond what is needful, or
otherwise than is well, he will be vexed, but only moderately and as he ought;
for feeling pleasure and pain at right objects, and in right manner, is a
property of Virtue.

The Liberal man is also a good man to have for a partner in respect of wealth:
for he can easily be wronged, since he values not wealth, and is more vexed at
not spending where he ought to have done so than at spending where he ought
not, and he relishes not the maxim of Simonides.

Chapter II.

But the Prodigal man goes wrong also in these points, for he is neither pleased
nor pained at proper objects or in proper manner, which will become more plain
as we proceed.

We have said already that Prodigality and Stinginess are respectively states of
excess and defect, and this in two things, giving and receiving (expenditure of
course we class under giving). Well now, Prodigality exceeds in giving and
forbearing to receive and is deficient in receiving, while Stinginess is
deficient in giving and exceeds in receiving, but it is in small things.

The two parts of Prodigality, to be sure, do not commonly go together; it is
not easy, I mean, to give to all if you receive from none, because private
individuals thus giving will soon find their means run short, and such are in
fact thought to be prodigal. He that should combine both would seem to be no
little superior to the Stingy man: for he may be easily cured, both by
advancing in years, and also by the want of means, and he may come thus to the
mean: he has, you see, already the facts of the Liberal man, he gives
and forbears to receive, only he does neither in right manner or well. So if he
could be wrought upon by habituation in this respect, or change in any other
way, he would be a real Liberal man, for he will give to those to whom he
should, and will forbear to receive whence he ought not. This is the reason too
why he is thought not to be low in moral character, because to exceed in giving
and in forbearing to receive is no sign of badness or meanness, but only of
folly.

Well then, he who is Prodigal in this fashion is thought far superior to the
Stingy man for the aforementioned reasons, and also because he does good to
many, but the Stingy man to no one, not even to himself. But most Prodigals, as
has been said, combine with their other faults that of receiving from improper
sources, and on this point are Stingy: and they become grasping, because they
wish to spend and cannot do this easily, since their means soon run short and
they are necessitated to get from some other quarter; and then again, because
they care not for what is honourable, they receive recklessly, and from all
sources indifferently, because they desire to give but care not how or whence.

And for this reason their givings are not Liberal, inasmuch as they are not
honourable, nor purely disinterested, nor done in right fashion; but they
oftentimes make those rich who should be poor, and to those who are quiet
respectable kind of people they will give nothing, but to flatterers, or those
who subserve their pleasures in any way, they will give much. And therefore
most of them are utterly devoid of self-restraint; for as they are open-handed
they are liberal in expenditure upon the unrestrained gratification of their
passions, and turn off to their pleasures because they do not live with
reference to what is honourable.

Thus then the Prodigal, if unguided, slides into these faults; but if he could
get care bestowed on him he might come to the mean and to what is right.

Stinginess, on the contrary, is incurable: old age, for instance, and
incapacity of any kind, is thought to make people Stingy; and it is more
congenial to human nature than Prodigality, the mass of men being fond of money
rather than apt to give: moreover it extends far and has many phases, the modes
of stinginess being thought to be many. For as it consists of two things,
defect of giving and excess of receiving, everybody does not have it entire,
but it is sometimes divided, and one class of persons exceed in receiving, the
other are deficient in giving. I mean those who are designated by such
appellations as sparing, close-fisted, niggards, are all deficient in giving;
but other men’s property they neither desire nor are willing to receive,
in some instances from a real moderation and shrinking from what is base.

There are some people whose motive, either supposed or alleged, for keeping
their property is this, that they may never be driven to do anything
dishonourable: to this class belongs the skinflint, and every one of similar
character, so named from the excess of not-giving. Others again decline to
receive their neighbour’s goods from a motive of fear; their notion being
that it is not easy to take other people’s things yourself without their
taking yours: so they are content neither to receive nor give.

The other class again who are Stingy in respect of receiving exceed in that
they receive anything from any source; such as they who work at illiberal
employments, brothel keepers, and such-like, and usurers who lend small sums at
large interest: for all these receive from improper sources, and improper
amounts. Their common characteristic is base-gaining, since they all submit to
disgrace for the sake of gain and that small; because those who receive great
things neither whence they ought, nor what they ought (as for instance despots
who sack cities and plunder temples), we denominate wicked, impious, and
unjust, but not Stingy.

Now the dicer and bath-plunderer and the robber belong to the class of the
Stingy, for they are given to base gain: both busy themselves and submit to
disgrace for the sake of gain, and the one class incur the greatest dangers for
the sake of their booty, while the others make gain of their friends to whom
they ought to be giving.

So both classes, as wishing to make gain from improper sources, are given to
base gain, and all such receivings are Stingy. And with good reason is
Stinginess called the contrary of Liberality: both because it is a greater evil
than Prodigality, and because men err rather in this direction than in that of
the Prodigality which we have spoken of as properly and completely such.

Let this be considered as what we have to say respecting Liberality and the
contrary vices.

Chapter III.

Next in order would seem to come a dissertation on Magnificence, this being
thought to be, like liberality, a virtue having for its object-matter Wealth;
but it does not, like that, extend to all transactions in respect of Wealth,
but only applies to such as are expensive, and in these circumstances it
exceeds liberality in respect of magnitude, because it is (what the very name
in Greek hints at) fitting expense on a large scale: this term is of course
relative: I mean, the expenditure of equipping and commanding a trireme is not
the same as that of giving a public spectacle: “fitting” of course
also is relative to the individual, and the matter wherein and upon which he
has to spend. And a man is not denominated Magnificent for spending as he
should do in small or ordinary things, as, for instance,

“Oft to the wandering beggar did I give,”

but for doing so in great matters: that is to say, the Magnificent man is
liberal, but the liberal is not thereby Magnificent. The falling short of such
a state is called Meanness, the exceeding it Vulgar Profusion, Want of Taste,
and so on; which are faulty, not because they are on an excessive scale in
respect of right objects but, because they show off in improper objects, and in
improper manner: of these we will speak presently. The Magnificent man is like
a man of skill, because he can see what is fitting, and can spend largely in
good taste; for, as we said at the commencement, the confirmed habit is
determined by the separate acts of working, and by its object-matter.

Well, the expenses of the Magnificent man are great and fitting: such also are
his works (because this secures the expenditure being not great merely, but
befitting the work). So then the work is to be proportionate to the expense,
and this again to the work, or even above it: and the Magnificent man will
incur such expenses from the motive of honour, this being common to all the
virtues, and besides he will do it with pleasure and lavishly; excessive
accuracy in calculation being Mean. He will consider also how a thing may be
done most beautifully and fittingly, rather, than for how much it may be done,
and how at the least expense.

So the Magnificent man must be also a liberal man, because the liberal man will
also spend what he ought, and in right manner: but it is the Great, that is to
say tke large scale, which is distinctive of the Magnificent man, the
object-matter of liberality being the same, and without spending more money
than another man he will make the work more magnificent. I mean, the excellence
of a possession and of a work is not the same: as a piece of property that
thing is most valuable which is worth most, gold for instance; but as a work
that which is great and beautiful, because the contemplation of such an object
is admirable, and so is that which is Magnificent. So the excellence of a work
is Magnificence on a large scale. There are cases of expenditure which we call
honourable, such as are dedicatory offerings to the gods, and the furnishing
their temples, and sacrifices, and in like manner everything that has reference
to the Deity, and all such public matters as are objects of honourable
ambition, as when men think in any case that it is their duty to furnish a
chorus for the stage splendidly, or fit out and maintain a trireme, or give a
general public feast.

Now in all these, as has been already stated, respect is had also to the rank
and the means of the man who is doing them: because they should be
proportionate to these, and befit not the work only but also the doer of the
work. For this reason a poor man cannot be a Magnificent man, since he has not
means wherewith to spend largely and yet becomingly; and if he attempts it he
is a fool, inasmuch as it is out of proportion and contrary to propriety,
whereas to be in accordance with virtue a thing must be done rightly.

Such expenditure is fitting moreover for those to whom such things previously
belong, either through themselves or through their ancestors or people with
whom they are connected, and to the high-born or people of high repute, and so
on: because all these things imply greatness and reputation.

So then the Magnificent man is pretty much as I have described him, and
Magnificence consists in such expenditures: because they are the greatest and
most honourable: and of private ones such as come but once for all, marriage to
wit, and things of that kind; and any occasion which engages the interest of
the community in general, or of those who are in power; and what concerns
receiving and despatching strangers; and gifts, and repaying gifts: because the
Magnificent man is not apt to spend upon himself but on the public good, and
gifts are pretty much in the same case as dedicatory offerings.

It is characteristic also of the Magnificent man to furnish his house suitably
to his wealth, for this also in a way reflects credit; and again, to spend
rather upon such works as are of long duration, these being most honourable.
And again, propriety in each case, because the same things are not suitable to
gods and men, nor in a temple and a tomb. And again, in the case of
expenditures, each must be great of its kind, and great expense on a great
object is most magnificent, that is in any case what is great in these
particular things.

There is a difference too between greatness of a work and greatness of
expenditure: for instance, a very beautiful ball or cup is magnificent as a
present to a child, while the price of it is small and almost mean. Therefore
it is characteristic of the Magnificent man to do magnificently whatever he is
about: for whatever is of this kind cannot be easily surpassed, and bears a
proper proportion to the expenditure.

Such then is the Magnificent man.

The man who is in the state of excess, called one of Vulgar Profusion, is in
excess because he spends improperly, as has been said. I mean in cases
requiring small expenditure he lavishes much and shows off out of taste; giving
his club a feast fit for a wedding-party, or if he has to furnish a chorus for
a comedy, giving the actors purple to wear in the first scene, as did the
Megarians. And all such things he will do, not with a view to that which is
really honourable, but to display his wealth, and because he thinks he shall be
admired for these things; and he will spend little where he ought to spend
much, and much where he should spend little.

The Mean man will be deficient in every case, and even where he has spent the
most he will spoil the whole effect for want of some trifle; he is
procrastinating in all he does, and contrives how he may spend the least, and
does even that with lamentations about the expense, and thinking that he does
all things on a greater scale than he ought.

Of course, both these states are faulty, but they do not involve disgrace
because they are neither hurtful to others nor very unseemly.

Chapter IV.

The very name of Great-mindedness implies, that great things are its
object-matter; and we will first settle what kind of things. It makes no
difference, of course, whether we regard the moral state in the abstract or as
exemplified in an individual.

Well then, he is thought to be Great-minded who values himself highly and at
the same time justly, because he that does so without grounds is foolish, and
no virtuous character is foolish or senseless. Well, the character I have
described is Great-minded. The man who estimates himself lowly, and at the same
time justly, is modest; but not Great-minded, since this latter quality implies
greatness, just as beauty implies a large bodily conformation while small
people are neat and well made but not beautiful.

Again, he who values himself highly without just grounds is a Vain man: though
the name must not be applied to every case of unduly high self-estimation. He
that values himself below his real worth is Small-minded, and whether that
worth is great, moderate, or small, his own estimate falls below it. And he is
the strongest case of this error who is really a man of great worth, for what
would he have done had his worth been less?

The Great-minded man is then, as far as greatness is concerned, at the summit,
but in respect of propriety he is in the mean, because he estimates himself at
his real value (the other characters respectively are in excess and defect).
Since then he justly estimates himself at a high, or rather at the highest
possible rate, his character will have respect specially to one thing: this
term “rate” has reference of course to external goods: and of these
we should assume that to be the greatest which we attribute to the gods, and
which is the special object of desire to those who are in power, and which is
the prize proposed to the most honourable actions: now honour answers to these
descriptions, being the greatest of external goods. So the Great-minded man
bears himself as he ought in respect of honour and dishonour. In fact, without
need of words, the Great-minded plainly have honour for their object-matter:
since honour is what the great consider themselves specially worthy of, and
according to a certain rate.

The Small-minded man is deficient, both as regards himself, and also as regards
the estimation of the Great-minded: while the Vain man is in excess as regards
himself, but does not get beyond the Great-minded man. Now the Great-minded
man, being by the hypothesis worthy of the greatest things, must be of the
highest excellence, since the better a man is the more is he worth, and he who
is best is worth the most: it follows then, that to be truly Great-minded a man
must be good, and whatever is great in each virtue would seem to belong to the
Great-minded. It would no way correspond with the character of the Great-minded
to flee spreading his hands all abroad; nor to injure any one; for with what
object in view will he do what is base, in whose eyes nothing is great? in
short, if one were to go into particulars, the Great-minded man would show
quite ludicrously unless he were a good man: he would not be in fact deserving
of honour if he were a bad man, honour being the prize of virtue and given to
the good.

This virtue, then, of Great-mindedness seems to be a kind of ornament of all
the other virtues, in that it makes them better and cannot be without them; and
for this reason it is a hard matter to be really and truly Great-minded; for it
cannot be without thorough goodness and nobleness of character.

Honour then and dishonour are specially the object-matter of the Great-minded
man: and at such as is great, and given by good men, he will be pleased
moderately as getting his own, or perhaps somewhat less for no honour can be
quite adequate to perfect virtue: but still he will accept this because they
have nothing higher to give him. But such as is given by ordinary people and on
trifling grounds he will entirely despise, because these do not come up to his
deserts: and dishonour likewise, because in his case there cannot be just
ground for it.

Now though, as I have said, honour is specially the object-matter of the
Great-minded man, I do not mean but that likewise in respect of wealth and
power, and good or bad fortune of every kind, he will bear himself with
moderation, fall out how they may, and neither in prosperity will he be
overjoyed nor in adversity will he be unduly pained. For not even in respect of
honour does he so bear himself; and yet it is the greatest of all such objects,
since it is the cause of power and wealth being choice-worthy, for certainly
they who have them desire to receive honour through them. So to whom honour
even is a small thing to him will all other things also be so; and this is why
such men are thought to be supercilious.

It seems too that pieces of good fortune contribute to form this character of
Great-mindedness: I mean, the nobly born, or men of influence, or the wealthy,
are considered to be entitled to honour, for they are in a position of eminence
and whatever is eminent by good is more entitled to honour: and this is why
such circumstances dispose men rather to Great-mindedness, because they receive
honour at the hands of some men.

Now really and truly the good man alone is entitled to honour; only if a man
unites in himself goodness with these external advantages he is thought to be
more entitled to honour: but they who have them without also having virtue are
not justified in their high estimate of themselves, nor are they rightly
denominated Great-minded; since perfect virtue is one of the indispensable
conditions to such & character.

Further, such men become supercilious and insolent, it not being easy to bear
prosperity well without goodness; and not being able to bear it, and possessed
with an idea of their own superiority to others, they despise them, and do just
whatever their fancy prompts; for they mimic the Great-minded man, though they
are not like him, and they do this in such points as they can, so without doing
the actions which can only flow from real goodness they despise others. Whereas
the Great-minded man despises on good grounds (for he forms his opinions
truly), but the mass of men do it at random.

Moreover, he is not a man to incur little risks, nor does he court danger,
because there are but few things he has a value for; but he will incur great
dangers, and when he does venture he is prodigal of his life as knowing that
there are terms on which it is not worth his while to live. He is the sort of
man to do kindnesses, but he is ashamed to receive them; the former putting a
man in the position of superiority, the latter in that of inferiority;
accordingly he will greatly overpay any kindness done to him, because the
original actor will thus be laid under obligation and be in the position of the
party benefited. Such men seem likewise to remember those they have done
kindnesses to, but not those from whom they have received them: because he who
has received is inferior to him who has done the kindness and our friend wishes
to be superior; accordingly he is pleased to hear of his own kind acts but not
of those done to himself (and this is why, in Homer, Thetis does not mention to
Jupiter the kindnesses she had done him, nor did the Lacedæmonians to the
Athenians but only the benefits they had received).

Further, it is characteristic of the Great-minded man to ask favours not at
all, or very reluctantly, but to do a service very readily; and to bear himself
loftily towards the great or fortunate, but towards people of middle station
affably; because to be above the former is difficult and so a grand thing, but
to be above the latter is easy; and to be high and mighty towards the former is
not ignoble, but to do it towards those of humble station would be low and
vulgar; it would be like parading strength against the weak.

And again, not to put himself in the way of honour, nor to go where others are
the chief men; and to be remiss and dilatory, except in the case of some great
honour or work; and to be concerned in few things, and those great and famous.
It is a property of him also to be open, both in his dislikes and his likings,
because concealment is a consequent of fear. Likewise to be careful for reality
rather than appearance, and talk and act openly (for his contempt for others
makes him a bold man, for which same reason he is apt to speak the truth,
except where the principle of reserve comes in), but to be reserved towards the
generality of men.

And to be unable to live with reference to any other but a friend; because
doing so is servile, as may be seen in that all flatterers are low and men in
low estate are flatterers. Neither is his admiration easily excited, because
nothing is great in his eyes; nor does he bear malice, since remembering
anything, and specially wrongs, is no part of Great-mindedness, but rather
overlooking them; nor does he talk of other men; in fact, he will not speak
either of himself or of any other; he neither cares to be praised himself nor
to have others blamed; nor again does he praise freely, and for this reason he
is not apt to speak ill even of his enemies except to show contempt and
insolence.

And he is by no means apt to make laments about things which cannot be helped,
or requests about those which are trivial; because to be thus disposed with
respect to these things is consequent only upon real anxiety about them. Again,
he is the kind of man to acquire what is beautiful and unproductive rather than
what is productive and profitable: this being rather the part of an independent
man.

Also slow motion, deep-toned voice, and deliberate style of speech, are thought
to be characteristic of the Great-minded man: for he who is earnest about few
things is not likely to be in a hurry, nor he who esteems nothing great to be
very intent: and sharp tones and quickness are the result of these.

Chapter V.

This then is my idea of the Great-minded man; and he who is in the defect is a
Small-minded man, he who is in the excess a Vain man. However, as we observed
in respect of the last character we discussed, these extremes are not thought
to be vicious exactly, but only mistaken, for they do no harm.

The Small-minded man, for instance, being really worthy of good deprives
himself of his deserts, and seems to have somewhat faulty from not having a
sufficiently high estimate of his own desert, in fact from self-ignorance:
because, but for this, he would have grasped after what he really is entitled
to, and that is good. Still such characters are not thought to be foolish, but
rather laggards. But the having such an opinion of themselves seems to have a
deteriorating effect on the character: because in all cases men’s aims
are regulated by their supposed desert, and thus these men, under a notion of
their own want of desert, stand aloof from honourable actions and courses, and
similarly from external goods.

But the Vain are foolish and self-ignorant, and that palpably: because they
attempt honourable things, as though they were worthy, and then they are
detected. They also set themselves off, by dress, and carriage, and such-like
things, and desire that their good circumstances may be seen, and they talk of
them under the notion of receiving honour thereby. Small-mindedness rather than
Vanity is opposed to Great-mindedness, because it is more commonly met with and
is worse.

Chapter VI.

Well, the virtue of Great-mindedness has for its object great Honour, as we
have said: and there seems to be a virtue having Honour also for its object (as
we stated in the former book), which may seem to bear to Great-mindedness the
same relation that Liberality does to Magnificence: that is, both these virtues
stand aloof from what is great but dispose us as we ought to be disposed
towards moderate and small matters. Further: as in giving and receiving of
wealth there is a mean state, an excess, and a defect, so likewise in grasping
after Honour there is the more or less than is right, and also the doing so
from right sources and in right manner.

For we blame the lover of Honour as aiming at Honour more than he ought, and
from wrong sources; and him who is destitute of a love of Honour as not
choosing to be honoured even for what is noble. Sometimes again we praise the
lover of Honour as manly and having a love for what is noble, and him who has
no love for it as being moderate and modest (as we noticed also in the former
discussion of these virtues).

It is clear then that since “Lover of so and so” is a term capable
of several meanings, we do not always denote the same quality by the term
“Lover of Honour;” but when we use it as a term of commendation we
denote more than the mass of men are; when for blame more than a man should be.

And the mean state having no proper name the extremes seem to dispute for it as
unoccupied ground: but of course where there is excess and defect there must be
also the mean. And in point of fact, men do grasp at Honour more than they
should, and less, and sometimes just as they ought; for instance, this state is
praised, being a mean state in regard of Honour, but without any appropriate
name. Compared with what is called Ambition it shows like a want of love for
Honour, and compared with this it shows like Ambition, or compared with both,
like both faults: nor is this a singular case among the virtues. Here the
extreme characters appear to be opposed, because the mean has no name
appropriated to it.

Chapter VII.

Meekness is a mean state, having for its object-matter Anger: and as the
character in the mean has no name, and we may almost say the same of the
extremes, we give the name of Meekness (leaning rather to the defect, which has
no name either) to the character in the mean.

The excess may be called an over-aptness to Anger: for the passion is Anger,
and the producing causes many and various. Now he who is angry at what and with
whom he ought, and further, in right manner and time, and for proper length of
time, is praised, so this Man will be Meek since Meekness is praised. For the
notion represented by the term Meek man is the being imperturbable, and not
being led away by passion, but being angry in that manner, and at those things,
and for that length of time, which Reason may direct. This character however is
thought to err rather on the side of defect, inasmuch as he is not apt to take
revenge but rather to make allowances and forgive. And the defect, call it
Angerlessness or what you will, is blamed: I mean, they who are not angry at
things at which they ought to be angry are thought to be foolish, and they who
are angry not in right manner, nor in right time, nor with those with whom they
ought; for a man who labours under this defect is thought to have no
perception, nor to be pained, and to have no tendency to avenge himself,
inasmuch as he feels no anger: now to bear with scurrility in one’s own
person, and patiently see one’s own friends suffer it, is a slavish
thing.

As for the excess, it occurs in all forms; men are angry with those with whom,
and at things with which, they ought not to be, and more than they ought, and
too hastily, and for too great a length of time. I do not mean, however, that
these are combined in any one person: that would in fact be impossible, because
the evil destroys itself, and if it is developed in its full force it becomes
unbearable.

Now those whom we term the Passionate are soon angry, and with people with whom
and at things at which they ought not, and in an excessive degree, but they
soon cool again, which is the best point about them. And this results from
their not repressing their anger, but repaying their enemies (in that they show
their feeings by reason of their vehemence), and then they have done with it.

The Choleric again are excessively vehement, and are angry at everything, and
on every occasion; whence comes their Greek name signifying that their choler
lies high.

The Bitter-tempered are hard to reconcile and keep their anger for a long
while, because they repress the feeling: but when they have revenged themselves
then comes a lull; for the vengeance destroys their anger by producing pleasure
in lieu of pain. But if this does not happen they keep the weight on their
minds: because, as it does not show itself, no one attempts to reason it away,
and digesting anger within one’s self takes time. Such men are very great
nuisances to themselves and to their best friends.

Again, we call those Cross-grained who are angry at wrong objects, and in
excessive degree, and for too long a time, and who are not appeased without
vengeance or at least punishing the offender.

To Meekness we oppose the excess rather than the defect, because it is of more
common occurrence: for human nature is more disposed to take than to forgo
revenge. And the Cross-grained are worse to live with [than they who are too
phlegmatic].

Now, from what has been here said, that is also plain which was said before. I
mean, it is no easy matter to define how, and with what persons, and at what
kind of things, and how long one ought to be angry, and up to what point a
person is right or is wrong. For he that transgresses the strict rule only a
little, whether on the side of too much or too little, is not blamed: sometimes
we praise those who are deficient in the feeling and call them Meek, sometimes
we call the irritable Spirited as being well qualified for government. So it is
not easy to lay down, in so many words, for what degree or kind of
transgression a man is blameable: because the decision is in particulars, and
rests therefore with the Moral Sense. Thus much, however, is plain, that the
mean state is praiseworthy, in virtue of which we are angry with those with
whom, and at those things with which, we ought to be angry, and in right
manner, and so on; while the excesses and defects are blameable, slightly so if
only slight, more so if greater, and when considerable very blameable.

It is clear, therefore, that the mean state is what we are to hold to.

This then is to be taken as our account of the various moral states which have
Anger for their object-matter.

Chapter VIII.

Next, as regards social intercourse and interchange of words and acts, some men
are thought to be Over-Complaisant who, with a view solely to giving pleasure,
agree to everything and never oppose, but think their line is to give no pain
to those they are thrown amongst: they, on the other hand, are called Cross and
Contentious who take exactly the contrary line to these, and oppose in
everything, and have no care at all whether they give pain or not.

Now it is quite clear of course, that the states I have named are blameable,
and that the mean between them is praiseworthy, in virtue of which a man will
let pass what he ought as he ought, and also will object in like manner.
However, this state has no name appropriated, but it is most like Friendship;
since the man who exhibits it is just the kind of man whom we would call the
amiable friend, with the addition of strong earnest affection; but then this is
the very point in which it differs from Friendship, that it is quite
independent of any feeling or strong affection for those among whom the man
mixes: I mean, that he takes everything as he ought, not from any feeling of
love or hatred, but simply because his natural disposition leads him to do so;
he will do it alike to those whom he does know and those whom he does not, and
those with whom he is intimate and those with whom he is not; only in each case
as propriety requires, because it is not fitting to care alike for intimates
and strangers, nor again to pain them alike.

It has been stated in a general way that his social intercourse will be
regulated by propriety, and his aim will be to avoid giving pain and to
contribute to pleasure, but with a constant reference to what is noble and
expedient.

His proper object-matter seems to be the pleasures and pains which arise out of
social intercourse, but whenever it is not honourable or even hurtful to him to
contribute to pleasure, in these instances he will run counter and prefer to
give pain.

Or if the things in question involve unseemliness to the doer, and this not
inconsiderable, or any harm, whereas his opposition will cause some little
pain, here he will not agree but will run counter.

Again, he will regulate differently his intercourse with great men and with
ordinary men, and with all people according to the knowledge he has of them;
and in like manner, taking in any other differences which may exist, giving to
each his due, and in itself preferring to give pleasure and cautious not to
give pain, but still guided by the results, I mean by what is noble and
expedient according as they preponderate.

Again, he will inflict trifling pain with a view to consequent pleasure.

Well, the man bearing the mean character is pretty well such as I have
described him, but he has no name appropriated to him: of those who try to give
pleasure, the man who simply and disinterestedly tries to be agreeable is
called Over-Complaisant, he who does it with a view to secure some profit in
the way of wealth, or those things which wealth may procure, is a Flatterer: I
have said before, that the man who is “always non-content” is Cross
and Contentious. Here the extremes have the appearance of being opposed to one
another, because the mean has no appropriate name.

Chapter IX.

The mean state which steers clear of Exaggeration has pretty much the same
object-matter as the last we described, and likewise has no name appropriated
to it. Still it may be as well to go over these states: because, in the first
place, by a particular discussion of each we shall be better acquainted with
the general subject of moral character, and next we shall be the more convinced
that the virtues are mean states by seeing that this is universally the case.

In respect then of living in society, those who carry on this intercourse with
a view to pleasure and pain have been already spoken of; we will now go on to
speak of those who are True or False, alike in their words and deeds and in the
claims which they advance.

Now the Exaggerator is thought to have a tendency to lay claim to things
reflecting credit on him, both when they do not belong to him at all and also
in greater degree than that in which they really do: whereas the Reserved man,
on the contrary, denies those which really belong to him or else depreciates
them, while the mean character being a Plain-matter-of-fact person is Truthful
in life and word, admitting the existence of what does really belong to him and
making it neither greater nor less than the truth.

It is possible of course to take any of these lines either with or without some
further view: but in general men speak, and act, and live, each according to
his particular character and disposition, unless indeed a man is acting from
any special motive.

Now since falsehood is in itself low and blameable, while truth is noble and
praiseworthy, it follows that the Truthful man (who is also in the mean) is
praiseworthy, and the two who depart from strict truth are both blameable, but
especially the Exaggerator.

We will now speak of each, and first of the Truthful man: I call him Truthful,
because we are not now meaning the man who is true in his agreements nor in
such matters as amount to justice or injustice (this would come within the
province of a different virtue), but, in such as do not involve any such
serious difference as this, the man we are describing is true in life and word
simply because he is in a certain moral state.

And he that is such must be judged to be a good man: for he that has a love for
Truth as such, and is guided by it in matters indifferent, will be so likewise
even more in such as are not indifferent; for surely he will have a dread of
falsehood as base, since he shunned it even in itself: and he that is of such a
character is praiseworthy, yet he leans rather to that which is below the
truth, this having an appearance of being in better taste because exaggerations
are so hateful.

As for the man who lays claim to things above what really belongs to him
without any special motive, he is like a base man because he would not
otherwise have taken pleasure in falsehood, but he shows as a fool rather than
as a knave. But if a man does this with a special motive, suppose for
honour or glory, as the Braggart does, then he is not so very blameworthy, but
if, directly or indirectly, for pecuniary considerations, he is more unseemly.

Now the Braggart is such not by his power but by his purpose, that is to say,
in virtue of his moral state, and because he is a man of a certain kind; just
as there are liars who take pleasure in falsehood for its own sake while others
lie from a desire of glory or gain. They who exaggerate with a view to glory
pretend to such qualities as are followed by praise or highest congratulation;
they who do it with a view to gain assume those which their neighbours can
avail themselves of, and the absence of which can be concealed, as a
man’s being a skilful soothsayer or physician; and accordingly most men
pretend to such things and exaggerate in this direction, because the faults I
have mentioned are in them.

The Reserved, who depreciate their own qualities, have the appearance of being
more refined in their characters, because they are not thought to speak with a
view to gain but to avoid grandeur: one very common trait in such characters is
their denying common current opinions, as Socrates used to do. There are people
who lay claim falsely to small things and things the falsity of their
pretensions to which is obvious; these are called Factotums and are very
despicable.

This very Reserve sometimes shows like Exaggeration; take, for instance, the
excessive plainness of dress affected by the Lacedæmonians: in fact, both
excess and the extreme of deficiency partake of the nature of Exaggeration. But
they who practise Reserve in moderation, and in cases in which the truth is not
very obvious and plain, give an impression of refinement. Here it is the
Exaggerator (as being the worst character) who appears to be opposed to the
Truthful Man.

Chapter X.

Next, as life has its pauses and in them admits of pastime combined with
Jocularity, it is thought that in this respect also there is a kind of fitting
intercourse, and that rules may be prescribed as to the kind of things one
should say and the manner of saying them; and in respect of hearing likewise
(and there will be a difference between the saying and hearing such and such
things). It is plain that in regard to these things also there will be an
excess and defect and a mean.

Now they who exceed in the ridiculous are judged to be Buffoons and Vulgar,
catching at it in any and every way and at any cost, and aiming rather at
raising laughter than at saying what is seemly and at avoiding to pain the
object of their wit. They, on the other hand, who would not for the world make
a joke themselves and are displeased with such as do are thought to be Clownish
and Stern. But they who are Jocular in good taste are denominated by a Greek
term expressing properly ease of movement, because such are thought to be, as
one may say, motions of the moral character; and as bodies are judged of by
their motions so too are moral characters.

Now as the ridiculous lies on the surface, and the majority of men take more
pleasure than they ought in Jocularity and Jesting, the Buffoons too get this
name of Easy Pleasantry, as if refined and gentlemanlike; but that they differ
from these, and considerably too, is plain from what has been said.

One quality which belongs to the mean state is Tact: it is characteristic of a
man of Tact to say and listen to such things as are fit for a good man and a
gentleman to say and listen to: for there are things which are becoming for
such a one to say and listen to in the way of Jocularity, and there is a
difference between the Jocularity of the Gentleman and that of the Vulgarian;
and again, between that of the educated and uneducated man. This you may see
from a comparison of the Old and New Comedy: in the former obscene talk made
the fun; in the latter it is rather innuendo: and this is no slight difference
as regards decency.

Well then, are we to characterise him who jests well by his saying what is
becoming a gentleman, or by his avoiding to pain the object of his wit, or even
by his giving him pleasure? or will not such a definition be vague, since
different things are hateful and pleasant to different men?

Be this as it may, whatever he says such things will he also listen to, since
it is commonly held that a man will do what he will bear to hear: this must,
however, be limited; a man will not do quite all that he will hear: because
jesting is a species of scurrility and there are some points of scurrility
forbidden by law; it may be certain points of jesting should have been also so
forbidden. So then the refined and gentlemanlike man will bear himself thus as
being a law to himself. Such is the mean character, whether denominated the man
of Tact or of Easy Pleasantry.

But the Buffoon cannot resist the ridiculous, sparing neither himself nor any
one else so that he can but raise his laugh, saying things of such kind as no
man of refinement would say and some which he would not even tolerate if said
by others in his hearing.

The Clownish man is for such intercourse wholly useless: inasmuch as
contributing nothing jocose of his own he is savage with all who do.

Yet some pause and amusement in life are generally judged to be indispensable.

The three mean states which have been described do occur in life, and the
object-matter of all is interchange of words and deeds. They differ, in that
one of them is concerned with truth, and the other two with the pleasurable:
and of these two again, the one is conversant with the jocosities of life, the
other with all other points of social intercourse.

Chapter XI.

To speak of Shame as a Virtue is incorrect, because it is much more like a
feeling than a moral state. It is defined, we know, to be “a kind of fear
of disgrace,” and its effects are similar to those of the fear of danger,
for they who feel Shame grow red and they who fear death turn pale. So both are
evidently in a way physical, which is thought to be a mark of a feeling rather
than a moral state.

Moreover, it is a feeling not suitable to every age, but only to youth: we do
think that the young should be Shamefaced, because since they live at the beck
and call of passion they do much that is wrong and Shame acts on them as a
check. In fact, we praise such young men as are Shamefaced, but no one would
ever praise an old man for being given to it, inasmuch as we hold that he ought
not to do things which cause Shame; for Shame, since it arises at low bad
actions, does not at all belong to the good man, because such ought not to be
done at all: nor does it make any difference to allege that some things are
disgraceful really, others only because they are thought so; for neither should
be done, so that a man ought not to be in the position of feeling Shame. In
truth, to be such a man as to do anything disgraceful is the part of a faulty
character. And for a man to be such that he would feel Shame if he should do
anything disgraceful, and to think that this constitutes him a good man, is
absurd: because Shame is felt at voluntary actions only, and a good man will
never voluntarily do what is base.

True it is, that Shame may be good on a certain supposition, as “if a man
should do such things, he would feel Shame:” but then the Virtues are
good in themselves, and not merely in supposed cases. And, granted that
impudence and the not being ashamed to do what is disgraceful is base, it does
not the more follow that it is good for a man to do such things and feel Shame.

Nor is Self-Control properly a Virtue, but a kind of mixed state: however, all
about this shall be set forth in a future Book.

BOOK V

Chapter I.

Now the points for our enquiry in respect of Justice and Injustice are, what
kind of actions are their object-matter, and what kind of a mean state Justice
is, and between what points the abstract principle of it, i.e. the Just, is a
mean. And our enquiry shall be, if you please, conducted in the same method as
we have observed in the foregoing parts of this Treatise.

We see then that all men mean by the term Justice a moral state such that in
consequence of it men have the capacity of doing what is just, and actually do
it, and wish it:^[1]
similarly also with respect to Injustice, a moral state such that in
consequence of it men do unjustly and wish what is unjust: let us also be
content then with these as a ground-work sketched out.

I mention the two, because the same does not hold with regard to States whether
of mind or body as with regard to Sciences or Faculties: I mean that whereas it
is thought that the same Faculty or Science embraces contraries, a State will
not: from health, for instance, not the contrary acts are done but the healthy
ones only; we say a man walks healthily when he walks as the healthy man would.

However, of the two contrary states the one may be frequently known from the
other, and oftentimes the states from their subject-matter: if it be seen
clearly what a good state of body is, then is it also seen what a bad state is,
and from the things which belong to a good state of body the good state itself
is seen, and vice versâ. If, for instance, the good state is firmness of
flesh it follows that the bad state is flabbiness of flesh; and whatever causes
firmness of flesh is connected with the good state.

It follows moreover in general,^[2]
that if of two contrary terms the one is used in many senses so also will the
other be; as, for instance, if “the Just,” then also “the
Unjust.” Now Justice and Injustice do seem to be used respectively in
many senses, but, because the line of demarcation between these is very fine
and minute,^[3]
it commonly escapes notice that they are thus used, and it is not plain and
manifest as where the various significations of terms are widely different for
in these last the visible difference is great, for instance, the word
κλεὶς is used equivocally to denote the bone which is
under the neck of animals and the instrument with which people close doors.

Let it be ascertained then in how many senses the term “Unjust man”
is used. Well, he who violates the law, and he who is a grasping man, and the
unequal man, are all thought to be Unjust and so manifestly the Just man will
be, the man who acts according to law, and the equal man “The Just”
then will be the lawful and the equal, and “the Unjust” the
unlawful and the unequal.

Well, since the Unjust man is also a grasping man, he will be so, of course,
with respect to good things, but not of every kind, only those which are the
subject-matter of good and bad fortune and which are in themselves always good
but not always to the individual.^[4]
Yet men pray for and pursue these things: this they should not do but pray that
things which are in the abstract good may be so also to them, and choose what
is good for themselves.

But the Unjust man does not always choose actually the greater part, but even
sometimes the less; as in the case of things which are simply evil: still,
since the less evil is thought to be in a manner a good and the grasping is
after good, therefore even in this case he is thought to be a grasping man,
i.e. one who strives for more good than fairly falls to his share: of
course he is also an unequal man, this being an inclusive and common term.

Chapter II.

We said that the violator of Law is Unjust, and the keeper of the Law Just:
further, it is plain that all Lawful things are in a manner Just, because by
Lawful we understand what have been defined by the legislative power and each
of these we say is Just. The Laws too give directions on all points, aiming
either at the common good of all, or that of the best, or that of those in
power (taking for the standard real goodness or adopting some other estimate);
in one way we mean by Just, those things which are apt to produce and preserve
happiness and its ingredients for the social community.

Further, the Law commands the doing the deeds not only of the brave man (as not
leaving the ranks, nor flying, nor throwing away one’s arms), but those
also of the perfectly self-mastering man, as abstinence from adultery and
wantonness; and those of the meek man, as refraining from striking others or
using abusive language: and in like manner in respect of the other virtues and
vices commanding some things and forbidding others, rightly if it is a good
law, in a way somewhat inferior if it is one extemporised.

Now this Justice is in fact perfect Virtue, yet not simply so but as exercised
towards one’s neighbour: and for this reason Justice is thought
oftentimes to be the best of the Virtues, and

“neither Hesper nor the Morning-star
So worthy of our admiration:”

and in a proverbial saying we express the same;

“All virtue is in Justice comprehended.”

And it is in a special sense perfect Virtue because it is the practice of
perfect Virtue. And perfect it is because he that has it is able to practise
his virtue towards his neighbour and not merely on himself; I mean, there are
many who can practise virtue in the regulation of their own personal conduct
who are wholly unable to do it in transactions with their neighbour. And for
this reason that saying of Bias is thought to be a good one,

“Rule will show what a man is;”

for he who bears Rule is necessarily in contact with others, i.e. in a
community. And for this same reason Justice alone of all the Virtues is thought
to be a good to others, because it has immediate relation to some other person,
inasmuch as the Just man does what is advantageous to another, either to his
ruler or fellow-subject. Now he is the basest of men who practises vice not
only in his own person,^[5]
but towards his friends also; but he the best who practises virtue not merely
in his own person but towards his neighbour, for this is a matter of some
difficulty.

However, Justice in this sense is not a part of Virtue but is co-extensive with
Virtue; nor is the Injustice which answers to it a part of Vice but
co-extensive with Vice. Now wherein Justice in this sense differs from Virtue
appears from what has been said: it is the same really, but the point of view
is not the same: in so far as it has respect to one’s neighbour it is
Justice, in so far as it is such and such a moral state it is simply Virtue.

Chapter III.

But the object of our enquiry is Justice, in the sense in which it is a part of
Virtue (for there is such a thing, as we commonly say), and likewise with
respect to particular Injustice. And of the existence of this last the
following consideration is a proof: there are many vices by practising which a
man acts unjustly, of course, but does not grasp at more than his share of
good; if, for instance, by reason of cowardice he throws away his shield, or by
reason of ill-temper he uses abusive language, or by reason of stinginess does
not give a friend pecuniary assistance; but whenever he does a grasping action,
it is often in the way of none of these vices, certainly not in all of them,
still in the way of some vice or other (for we blame him), and in the way of
Injustice. There is then some kind of Injustice distinct from that co-extensive
with Vice and related to it as a part to a whole, and some “Unjust”
related to that which is co-extensive with violation of the law as a part to a
whole.

Again, suppose one man seduces a man’s wife with a view to gain and
actually gets some advantage by it,^[6]
and another does the same from impulse of lust, at an expense of money and
damage; this latter will be thought to be rather destitute of self-mastery than
a grasping man, and the former Unjust but not destitute of self-mastery: now
why? plainly because of his gaining.

Again, all other acts of Injustice we refer to some particular depravity, as,
if a man commits adultery, to abandonment to his passions; if he deserts his
comrade, to cowardice; if he strikes another, to anger: but if he gains by the
act to no other vice than to Injustice.

Thus it is clear that there is a kind of Injustice different from and besides
that which includes all Vice, having the same name because the definition is in
the same genus; for both have their force in dealings with others, but the one
acts upon honour, or wealth, or safety, or by whatever one name we can include
all these things, and is actuated by pleasure attendant on gain, while the
other acts upon all things which constitute the sphere of the good man’s
action.

Chapter IV.

Now that there is more than one kind of Justice, and that there is one which is
distinct from and besides that which is co-extensive with, Virtue, is plain: we
must next ascertain what it is, and what are its characteristics.

Well, the Unjust has been divided into the unlawful and the unequal, and the
Just accordingly into the lawful and the equal: the aforementioned Injustice is
in the way of the unlawful. And as the unequal and the more^[7]
are not the same, but differing as part to whole (because all more is unequal,
but not all unequal more), so the Unjust and the Injustice we are now in search
of are not the same with, but other than, those before mentioned, the one being
the parts, the other the wholes; for this particular Injustice is a part of the
Injustice co-extensive with Vice, and likewise this Justice of the Justice
co-extensive with Virtue. So that what we have now to speak of is the
particular Justice and Injustice, and likewise the particular Just and Unjust.

Here then let us dismiss any further consideration of the Justice ranking as
co-extensive with Virtue (being the practice of Virtue in all its bearings
towards others), and of the co-relative Injustice (being similarly the practice
of Vice). It is clear too, that we must separate off the Just and the Unjust
involved in these: because one may pretty well say that most lawful things are
those which naturally result in action from Virtue in its fullest sense,
because the law enjoins the living in accordance with each Virtue and forbids
living in accordance with each Vice. And the producing causes of Virtue in all
its bearings are those enactments which have been made respecting education for
society.

By the way, as to individual education, in respect of which a man is simply
good without reference to others, whether it is the province of
πολιτικὴ or some other science we must
determine at a future time: for it may be it is not the same thing to be a good
man and a good citizen in every case.^[8]

Chapter V.

Now of the Particular Justice, and the Just involved in it, one species is that
which is concerned in the distributions of honour, or wealth, or such other
things as are to be shared among the members of the social community (because
in these one man as compared with another may have either an equal or an
unequal share), and the other is that which is Corrective in the various
transactions between man and man.

And of this latter there are two parts: because of transactions some are
voluntary and some involuntary; voluntary, such as follow; selling, buying,
use, bail, borrowing, deposit, hiring: and this class is called voluntary
because the origination of these transactions is voluntary.

The involuntary again are either such as effect secrecy; as theft, adultery,
poisoning, pimping, kidnapping of slaves, assassination, false witness; or
accompanied with open violence; as insult, bonds, death, plundering, maiming,
foul language, slanderous abuse.

Chapter VI.

Well, the unjust man we have said is unequal, and the abstract
“Unjust” unequal: further, it is plain that there is some mean of
the unequal, that is to say, the equal or exact half (because in whatever
action there is the greater and the less there is also the equal, i.e. the
exact half). If then the Unjust is unequal the Just is equal, which all must
allow without further proof: and as the equal is a mean the Just must be also a
mean. Now the equal implies two terms at least: it follows then that the Just
is both a mean and equal, and these to certain persons; and, in so far as it is
a mean, between certain things (that is, the greater and the less), and, so far
as it is equal, between two, and in so far as it is just it is so to certain
persons. The Just then must imply four terms at least, for those^[9]
to which it is just are two, and the terms representing the things are two.

And there will be the same equality between the terms representing the persons,
as between those representing the things: because as the latter are to one
another so are the former: for if the persons are not equal they must not have
equal shares; in fact this is the very source of all the quarrelling and
wrangling in the world, when either they who are equal have and get awarded to
them things not equal, or being not equal those things which are equal. Again,
the necessity of this equality of ratios is shown by the common phrase
“according to rate,” for all agree that the Just in distributions
ought to be according to some rate: but what that rate is to be, all do not
agree; the democrats are for freedom, oligarchs for wealth, others for
nobleness of birth, and the aristocratic party for virtue.

The Just, then, is a certain proportionable thing. For proportion does not
apply merely to number in the abstract,^[10]
but to number generally, since it is equality of ratios, and implies four terms
at least (that this is the case in what may be called discrete proportion is
plain and obvious, but it is true also in continual proportion, for this uses
the one term as two, and mentions it twice; thus A:B:C may be expressed
A:B::B:C. In the first, B is named twice; and so, if, as in the second, B is
actually written twice, the proportionals will be four): and the Just likewise
implies four terms at the least, and the ratio between the two pair of terms is
the same, because the persons and the things are divided similarly. It will
stand then thus, A:B::C:D, and then permutando A:C::B:D, and then (supposing C
and D to represent the things) A+C:B+D::A:B. The distribution in fact
consisting in putting together these terms thus: and if they are put together
so as to preserve this same ratio, the distribution puts them together
justly.^[11]
So then the joining together of the first and third and second and fourth
proportionals is the Just in the distribution, and this Just is the mean
relatively to that which violates the proportionate, for the proportionate is a
mean and the Just is proportionate. Now mathematicians call this kind of
proportion geometrical: for in geometrical proportion the whole is to the whole
as each part to each part. Furthermore this proportion is not continual,
because the person and thing do not make up one term.

The Just then is this proportionate, and the Unjust that which violates the
proportionate; and so there comes to be the greater and the less: which in fact
is the case in actual transactions, because he who acts unjustly has the
greater share and he who is treated unjustly has the less of what is good: but
in the case of what is bad this is reversed: for the less evil compared with
the greater comes to be reckoned for good, because the less evil is more
choice-worthy than the greater, and what is choice-worthy is good, and the more
so the greater good.

This then is the one species of the Just.

Chapter VII.

And the remaining one is the Corrective, which arises in voluntary as well as
involuntary transactions. Now this just has a different form from the
aforementioned; for that which is concerned in distribution of common property
is always according to the aforementioned proportion: I mean that, if the
division is made out of common property, the shares will bear the same
proportion to one another as the original contributions did: and the Unjust
which is opposite to this Just is that which violates the proportionate.

But the Just which arises in transactions between men is an equal in a certain
sense, and the Unjust an unequal, only not in the way of that proportion but of
arithmetical.^[12]
Because it makes no difference whether a robbery, for instance, is committed by
a good man on a bad or by a bad man on a good, nor whether a good or a bad man
has committed adultery: the law looks only to the difference created by the
injury and treats the men as previously equal, where the one does and the other
suffers injury, or the one has done and the other suffered harm. And so this
Unjust, being unequal, the judge endeavours to reduce to equality again,
because really when the one party has been wounded and the other has struck
him, or the one kills and the other dies, the suffering and the doing are
divided into unequal shares; well, the judge tries to restore equality by
penalty, thereby taking from the gain.

For these terms gain and loss are applied to these cases, though perhaps the
term in some particular instance may not be strictly proper, as gain, for
instance, to the man who has given a blow, and loss to him who has received it:
still, when the suffering has been estimated, the one is called loss and the
other gain.

And so the equal is a mean between the more and the less, which represent gain
and loss in contrary ways (I mean, that the more of good and the less of evil
is gain, the less of good and the more of evil is loss): between which the
equal was stated to be a mean, which equal we say is Just: and so the
Corrective Just must be the mean between loss and gain. And this is the reason
why, upon a dispute arising, men have recourse to the judge: going to the judge
is in fact going to the Just, for the judge is meant to be the personification
of the Just.^[13]
And men seek a judge as one in the mean, which is expressed in a name given by
some to judges (μεσίδιοι, or
middle-men) under the notion that if they can hit on the mean they shall hit on
the Just. The Just is then surely a mean since the judge is also.

So it is the office of a judge to make things equal, and the line, as it were,
having been unequally divided, he takes from the greater part that by which it
exceeds the half, and adds this on to the less. And when the whole is divided
into two exactly equal portions then men say they have their own, when they
have gotten the equal; and the equal is a mean between the greater and the less
according to arithmetical equality.

This, by the way, accounts for the etymology of the term by which we in Greek
express the ideas of Just and Judge;
(δίκαιον quasi
δίχαιον, that is in two parts, and
δικάστης quasi
διχάστης, he who divides into two
parts). For when from one of two equal magnitudes somewhat has been taken and
added to the other, this latter exceeds the former by twice that portion: if it
had been merely taken from the former and not added to the latter, then the
latter would have exceeded the former only by that one portion; but in the
other case, the greater exceeds the mean by one, and the mean exceeds also by
one that magnitude from which the portion was taken. By this illustration,
then, we obtain a rule to determine what one ought to take from him who has the
greater, and what to add to him who has the less. The excess of the mean over
the less must be added to the less, and the excess of the greater over the mean
be taken from the greater.

Thus let there be three straight lines equal to one another. From one of them
cut off a portion, and add as much to another of them. The whole line thus made
will exceed the remainder of the first-named line, by twice the portion added,
and will exceed the untouched line by that portion.^[14]
And these terms loss and gain are derived from voluntary exchange: that is to
say, the having more than what was one’s own is called gaining, and the
having less than one’s original stock is called losing; for instance, in
buying or selling, or any other transactions which are guaranteed by law: but
when the result is neither more nor less, but exactly the same as there was
originally,^[15]
people say they have their own, and neither lose nor gain.

So then the Just we have been speaking of is a mean between loss and gain
arising in involuntary transactions; that is, it is the having the same after
the transaction as one had before it took place.

Chapter VIII.

There are people who have a notion that Reciprocation is simply just, as the
Pythagoreans said: for they defined the Just simply and without qualification
as “That which reciprocates with another.” But this simple
Reciprocation will not fit on either to the Distributive Just, or the
Corrective (and yet this is the interpretation they put on the Rhadamanthian
rule of Just,

If a man should suffer what he hath done, then there would be straightforward
justice;”)

for in many cases differences arise: as, for instance, suppose one in authority
has struck a man, he is not to be struck in turn; or if a man has struck one in
authority, he must not only be struck but punished also.^[16]
And again, the voluntariness or involuntariness of actions makes a great
difference.

But in dealings of exchange such a principle of Justice as this Reciprocation
forms the bond of union, but then it must be Reciprocation according to
proportion and not exact equality, because by proportionate reciprocity of
action the social community is held together, For either Reciprocation of evil
is meant, and if this be not allowed it is thought to be a servile condition of
things: or else Reciprocation of good, and if this be not effected then there
is no admission to participation which is the very bond of their union.

And this is the moral of placing the Temple of the Graces
(χάριτες) in the public streets; to impress
the notion that there may be requital, this being peculiar to
χάρις^[17]
because a man ought to requite with a good turn the man who has done him a
favour and then to become himself the originator of another
χάρις, by doing him a favour.

Now the acts of mutual giving in due proportion may be represented by the
diameters of a parallelogram, at the four angles of which the parties and their
wares are so placed that the side connecting the parties be opposite to that
connecting the wares, and each party be connected by one side with his own
ware, as in the accompanying diagram.

The builder is to receive from the shoemaker of his ware, and to give him of
his own: if then there be first proportionate equality, and then the
Reciprocation takes place, there will be the just result which we are speaking
of: if not, there is not the equal, nor will the connection stand: for there is
no reason why the ware of the one may not be better than that of the other, and
therefore before the exchange is made they must have been equalised. And this
is so also in the other arts: for they would have been destroyed entirely if
there were not a correspondence in point of quantity and quality between the
producer and the consumer. For, we must remember, no dealing arises between two
of the same kind, two physicians, for instance; but say between a physician and
agriculturist, or, to state it generally, between those who are different and
not equal, but these of course must have been equalised before the exchange can
take place.

It is therefore indispensable that all things which can be exchanged should be
capable of comparison, and for this purpose money has come in, and comes to be
a kind of medium, for it measures all things and so likewise the excess and
defect; for instance, how many shoes are equal to a house or a given quantity
of food. As then the builder to the shoemaker, so many shoes must be to the
house (or food, if instead of a builder an agriculturist be the exchanging
party); for unless there is this proportion there cannot be exchange or
dealing, and this proportion cannot be unless the terms are in some way equal;
hence the need, as was stated above, of some one measure of all things. Now
this is really and truly the Demand for them, which is the common bond of all
such dealings. For if the parties were not in want at all or not similarly of
one another’s wares, there would either not be any exchange, or at least
not the same.

And money has come to be, by general agreement, a representative of Demand: and
the account of its Greek name νομισμα is
this, that it is what it is not naturally but by custom or law
(νόμος), and it rests with us to change its value, or
make it wholly useless.

Very well then, there will be Reciprocation when the terms have been equalised
so as to stand in this proportion; Agriculturist : Shoemaker : : wares of
Shoemaker : wares of Agriculturist; but you must bring them to this form of
proportion when they exchange, otherwise the one extreme will combine both
exceedings of the mean:^[18]
but when they have exactly their own then they are equal and have dealings,
because the same equality can come to be in their case. Let A represent an
agriculturist, C food, B a shoemaker, D his wares equalised with A’s.
Then the proportion will be correct, A:B::C:D; now Reciprocation will be
practicable, if it were not, there would have been no dealing.

Now that what connects men in such transactions is Demand, as being some one
thing, is shown by the fact that, when either one does not want the other or
neither want one another, they do not exchange at all: whereas they do^[19]
when one wants what the other man has, wine for instance, giving in return corn
for exportation.

And further, money is a kind of security to us in respect of exchange at some
future time (supposing that one wants nothing now that we shall have it when we
do): the theory of money being that whenever one brings it one can receive
commodities in exchange: of course this too is liable to depreciation, for its
purchasing power is not always the same, but still it is of a more permanent
nature than the commodities it represents. And this is the reason why all
things should have a price set upon them, because thus there may be exchange at
any time, and if exchange then dealing. So money, like a measure, making all
things commensurable equalises them: for if there was not exchange there would
not have been dealing, nor exchange if there were not equality, nor equality if
there were not the capacity of being commensurate: it is impossible that things
so greatly different should be really commensurate, but we can approximate
sufficiently for all practical purposes in reference to Demand. The common
measure must be some one thing, and also from agreement (for which reason it is
called νόμισμα), for this makes all things
commensurable: in fact, all things are measured by money. Let B represent ten
minæ, A a house worth five minæ, or in other words half B, C a bed worth 1/10th
of B: it is clear then how many beds are equal to one house, namely, five.

It is obvious also that exchange was thus conducted before the existence of
money: for it makes no difference whether you give for a house five beds or the
price of five beds.

Chapter IX.

We have now said then what the abstract Just and Unjust are, and these having
been defined it is plain that just acting is a mean between acting unjustly and
being acted unjustly towards: the former being equivalent to having more, and
the latter to having less.

But Justice, it must be observed, is a mean state not after the same manner as
the forementioned virtues, but because it aims at producing the mean, while
Injustice occupies both the extremes.

And Justice is the moral state in virtue of which the just man is said to have
the aptitude for practising the Just in the way of moral choice, and for making
division between, himself and another, or between two other men, not so as to
give to himself the greater and to his neighbour the less share of what is
choice-worthy and contrariwise of what is hurtful, but what is proportionably
equal, and in like manner when adjudging the rights of two other men.

Injustice is all this with respect to the Unjust: and since the Unjust is
excess or defect of what is good or hurtful respectively, in violation of the
proportionate, therefore Injustice is both excess and defect because it aims at
producing excess and defect; excess, that is, in a man’s own case of what
is simply advantageous, and defect of what is hurtful: and in the case of other
men in like manner generally speaking, only that the proportionate is violated
not always in one direction as before but whichever way it happens in the given
case. And of the Unjust act the less is being acted unjustly towards, and the
greater the acting unjustly towards others.^[20]

Let this way of describing the nature of Justice and Injustice, and likewise
the Just and the Unjust generally, be accepted as sufficient.

Chapter X.

[Again, since a man may do unjust acts and not yet have formed a character of
injustice, the question arises whether a man is unjust in each particular form
of injustice, say a thief, or adulterer, or robber, by doing acts of a given
character.

We may say, I think, that this will not of itself make any difference; a man
may, for instance, have had connection with another’s wife, knowing well
with whom he was sinning, but he may have done it not of deliberate choice but
from the impulse of passion: of course he acts unjustly, but he has not
necessarily formed an unjust character: that is, he may have stolen yet not be
a thief; or committed an act of adultery but still not be an adulterer, and so
on in other cases which might be enumerated.]^[21]

Of the relation which Reciprocation bears to the Just we have already spoken:
and here it should be noticed that the Just which we are investigating is both
the Just in the abstract and also as exhibited in Social Relations, which
latter arises in the case of those who live in communion with a view to
independence and who are free and equal either proportionately or
numerically.^[22]

It follows then that those who are not in this position have not among
themselves the Social Just, but still Just of some kind and resembling that
other. For Just implies mutually acknowledged law, and law the possibility of
injustice, for adjudication is the act of distinguishing between the Just and
the Unjust.

And among whomsoever there is the possibility of injustice among these there is
that of acting unjustly; but it does not hold conversely that injustice
attaches to all among whom there is the possibility of acting unjustly, since
by the former we mean giving one’s self the larger share of what is
abstractedly good and the less of what is abstractedly evil.

This, by the way, is the reason why we do not allow a man to govern, but
Principle, because a man governs for himself and comes to be a despot: but the
office of a ruler is to be guardian of the Just and therefore of the Equal.
Well then, since he seems to have no peculiar personal advantage, supposing him
a Just man, for in this case he does not allot to himself the larger share of
what is abstractedly good unless it falls to his share proportionately (for
which reason he really governs for others, and so Justice, men say, is a good
not to one’s self so much as to others, as was mentioned before),
therefore some compensation must be given him, as there actually is in the
shape of honour and privilege; and wherever these are not adequate there rulers
turn into despots.

But the Just which arises in the relations of Master and Father, is not
identical with, but similar to, these; because there is no possibility of
injustice towards those things which are absolutely one’s own; and a
slave or child (so long as this last is of a certain age and not separated into
an independent being), is, as it were, part of a man’s self, and no man
chooses to hurt himself, for which reason there cannot be injustice towards
one’s own self: therefore neither is there the social Unjust or Just,
which was stated to be in accordance with law and to exist between those among
whom law naturally exists, and these were said to be they to whom belongs
equality of ruling and being ruled.

Hence also there is Just rather between a man and his wife than between a man
and his children or slaves; this is in fact the Just arising in domestic
relations: and this too is different from the Social Just.

Further, this last-mentioned Just is of two kinds, natural and conventional;
the former being that which has everywhere the same force and does not depend
upon being received or not; the latter being that which originally may be this
way or that indifferently but not after enactment: for instance, the price of
ransom being fixed at a mina, or the sacrificing a goat instead of two sheep;
and again, all cases of special enactment, as the sacrificing to Brasidas as a
hero; in short, all matters of special decree.

But there are some men who think that all the Justs are of this latter kind,
and on this ground: whatever exists by nature, they say, is unchangeable and
has everywhere the same force; fire, for instance, burns not here only but in
Persia as well, but the Justs they see changed in various places.

Now this is not really so, and yet it is in a way (though among the gods
perhaps by no means): still even amongst ourselves there is somewhat existing
by nature: allowing that everything is subject to change, still there is that
which does exist by nature, and that which does not.^[23]

Nay, we may go further, and say that it is practically plain what among things
which can be otherwise does exist by nature, and what does not but is dependent
upon enactment and conventional, even granting that both are alike subject to
be changed: and the same distinctive illustration will apply to this and other
cases; the right hand is naturally the stronger, still some men may become
equally strong in both.

A parallel may be drawn between the Justs which depend upon convention and
expedience, and measures; for wine and corn measures are not equal in all
places, but where men buy they are large, and where these same sell again they
are smaller: well, in like manner the Justs which are not natural, but of human
invention, are not everywhere the same, for not even the forms of government
are, and yet there is one only which by nature would be best in all places.

Chapter XI.

Now of Justs and Lawfuls each bears to the acts which embody and exemplify it
the relation of an universal to a particular; the acts being many, but each of
the principles only singular because each is an universal. And so there is a
difference between an unjust act and the abstract Unjust, and the just act and
the abstract Just: I mean, a thing is unjust in itself, by nature or by
ordinance; well, when this has been embodied in act, there is an unjust act,
but not till then, only some unjust thing.^[24]
And similarly of a just act. (Perhaps
δικαιοπράγημα
is more correctly the common or generic term for just act, the word
δικαίωμα, which I have here used,
meaning generally and properly the act corrective of the unjust act.) Now as to
each of them, what kinds there are, and how many, and what is their
object-matter, we must examine afterwards.

For the present we proceed to say that, the Justs and the Unjusts being what
have been mentioned, a man is said to act unjustly or justly when he embodies
these abstracts in voluntary actions, but when in involuntary, then he neither
acts unjustly or justly except accidentally; I mean that the being just or
unjust is really only accidental to the agents in such cases.

So both unjust and just actions are limited by the being voluntary or the
contrary: for when an embodying of the Unjust is voluntary, then it is blamed
and is at the same time also an unjust action: but, if voluntariness does not
attach, there will be a thing which is in itself unjust but not yet an unjust
action.

By voluntary, I mean, as we stated before, whatsoever of things in his own
power a man does with knowledge, and the absence of ignorance as to the person
to whom, or the instrument with which, or the result with which he does; as,
for instance, whom he strikes, what he strikes him with, and with what probable
result; and each of these points again, not accidentally nor by compulsion; as
supposing another man were to seize his hand and strike a third person with it,
here, of course, the owner of the hand acts not voluntarily, because it did not
rest with him to do or leave undone: or again, it is conceivable that the
person struck may be his father, and he may know that it is a man, or even one
of the present company, whom he is striking, but not know that it is his
father. And let these same distinctions be supposed to be carried into the case
of the result and in fact the whole of any given action. In fine then, that is
involuntary which is done through ignorance, or which, not resulting from
ignorance, is not in the agent’s control or is done on compulsion.

I mention these cases, because there are many natural things which we do and
suffer knowingly but still no one of which is either voluntary or involuntary,
growing old, or dying, for instance.

Again, accidentality may attach to the unjust in like manner as to the just
acts. For instance, a man may have restored what was deposited with him, but
against his will and from fear of the consequences of a refusal: we must not
say that he either does what is just, or does justly, except accidentally: and
in like manner the man who through compulsion and against his will fails to
restore a deposit, must be said to do unjustly, or to do what is unjust,
accidentally only.

Again, voluntary actions we do either from deliberate choice or without it;
from it, when we act from previous deliberation; without it, when without any
previous deliberation. Since then hurts which may be done in transactions
between man and man are threefold, those mistakes which are attended with
ignorance are, when a man either does a thing not to the man to whom he meant
to do it, or not the thing he meant to do, or not with the instrument, or not
with the result which he intended: either he did not think he should hit him at
all, or not with this, or this is not the man he thought he should hit, or he
did not think this would be the result of the blow but a result has followed
which he did not anticipate; as, for instance, he did it not to wound but
merely to prick him; or it is not the man whom, or the way in which, he meant.

Now when the hurt has come about contrary to all reasonable expectation, it is
a Misadventure; when though not contrary to expectation yet without any
viciousness, it is a Mistake; for a man makes a mistake when the origination of
the cause rests with himself, he has a misadventure when it is external to
himself. When again he acts with knowledge, but not from previous deliberation,
it is an unjust action; for instance, whatever happens to men from anger or
other passions which are necessary or natural: for when doing these hurts or
making these mistakes they act unjustly of course and their actions are unjust,
still they are not yet confirmed unjust or wicked persons by reason of these,
because the hurt did not arise from depravity in the doer of it: but when it
does arise from deliberate choice, then the doer is a confirmed unjust and
depraved man.

And on this principle acts done from anger are fairly judged not to be from
malice prepense, because it is not the man who acts in wrath who is the
originator really but he who caused his wrath. And again, the question at issue
in such cases is not respecting the fact but respecting the justice of the
case, the occasion of anger being a notion of injury.^[25]
I mean, that the parties do not dispute about the fact, as in questions of
contract (where one of the two must be a rogue, unless real forgetfulness can
be pleaded), but, admitting the fact, they dispute on which side the justice of
the case lies (the one who plotted against the other, i.e. the real
aggressor, of course, cannot be ignorant),^[26]
so that the one thinks there is injustice committed while the other
does not.

Well then, a man acts unjustly if he has hurt another of deliberate purpose,
and he who commits such acts of injustice is ipso facto an unjust
character when they are in violation of the proportionate or the equal; and in
like manner also a man is a just character when he acts justly of deliberate
purpose, and he does act justly if he acts voluntarily.

Then as for involuntary acts of harm, they are either such as are excusable or
such as are not: under the former head come all errors done not merely in
ignorance but from ignorance; under the latter all that are done not from
ignorance but in ignorance caused by some passion which is neither natural nor
fairly attributable to human infirmity.

Chapter XII.

Now a question may be raised whether we have spoken with sufficient
distinctness as to being unjustly dealt with, and dealing unjustly towards
others.

First, whether the case is possible which Euripides has put, saying somewhat
strangely,

“My mother he hath slain; the tale is short,
Either he willingly did slay her willing,
Or else with her will but against his own.”

I mean then, is it really possible for a person to be unjustly dealt with with
his own consent, or must every case of being unjustly dealt with be against the
will of the sufferer as every act of unjust dealing is voluntary?

And next, are cases of being unjustly dealt with to be ruled all one way as
every act of unjust dealing is voluntary? or may we say that some cases are
voluntary and some involuntary?

Similarly also as regards being justly dealt with: all just acting is
voluntary, so that it is fair to suppose that the being dealt with unjustly or
justly must be similarly opposed, as to being either voluntary or involuntary.

Now as for being justly dealt with, the position that every case of this is
voluntary is a strange one, for some are certainly justly dealt with without
their will.^[27]
The fact is a man may also fairly raise this question, whether in every case he
who has suffered what is unjust is therefore unjustly dealt with, or rather
that the case is the same with suffering as it is with acting; namely that in
both it is possible to participate in what is just, but only accidentally.
Clearly the case of what is unjust is similar: for doing things in themselves
unjust is not identical with acting unjustly, nor is suffering them the same as
being unjustly dealt with. So too of acting justly and being justly dealt with,
since it is impossible to be unjustly dealt with unless some one else acts
unjustly or to be justly dealt with unless some one else acts justly.

Now if acting unjustly is simply “hurting another voluntarily” (by
which I mean, knowing whom you are hurting, and wherewith, and how you are
hurting him), and the man who fails of self-control voluntarily hurts himself,
then this will be a case of being voluntarily dealt unjustly with, and it will
be possible for a man to deal unjustly with himself. (This by the way is one of
the questions raised, whether it is possible for a man to deal unjustly with
himself.) Or again, a man may, by reason of failing of self-control, receive
hurt from another man acting voluntarily, and so here will be another case of
being unjustly dealt with voluntarily.

The solution, I take it, is this: the definition of being unjustly dealt with
is not correct, but we must add, to the hurting with the knowledge of the
person hurt and the instrument and the manner of hurting him, the fact of its
being against the wish of the man who is hurt.

So then a man may be hurt and suffer what is in itself unjust voluntarily, but
unjustly dealt with voluntarily no man can be: since no man wishes to be hurt,
not even he who fails of self-control, who really acts contrary to his wish:
for no man wishes for that which he does not think to be good, and the
man who fails of self-control does not what he thinks he ought to do.

And again, he that gives away his own property (as Homer says Glaucus gave to
Diomed, “armour of gold for brass, armour worth a hundred oxen for that
which was worth but nine”) is not unjustly dealt with, because the giving
rests entirely with himself; but being unjustly dealt with does not, there must
be some other person who is dealing unjustly towards him.

With respect to being unjustly dealt with then, it is clear that it is not
voluntary.

Chapter XIII.

There remain yet two points on which we purposed to speak: first, is he
chargeable with an unjust act who in distribution has given the larger
share to one party contrary to the proper rate, or he that has the
larger share? next, can a man deal unjustly by himself?

In the first question, if the first-named alternative is possible and it is the
distributor who acts unjustly and not he who has the larger share, then
supposing that a person knowingly and willingly gives more to another than to
himself here is a case of a man dealing unjustly by himself; which, in fact,
moderate men are thought to do, for it is a characteristic of the equitable man
to take less than his due.

Is not this the answer? that the case is not quite fairly stated, because of
some other good, such as credit or the abstract honourable, in the supposed
case the man did get the larger share. And again, the difficulty is solved by
reference to the definition of unjust dealing: for the man suffers nothing
contrary to his own wish, so that, on this score at least, he is not unjustly
dealt with, but, if anything, he is hurt only.

It is evident also that it is the distributor who acts unjustly and not the man
who has the greater share: because the mere fact of the abstract Unjust
attaching to what a man does, does not constitute unjust action, but the doing
this voluntarily: and voluntariness attaches to that quarter whence is the
origination of the action, which clearly is in the distributor not in the
receiver. And again the term doing is used in several senses; in one sense
inanimate objects kill, or the hand, or the slave by his master’s
bidding; so the man in question does not act unjustly but does things which are
in themselves unjust.

Again, suppose that a man has made a wrongful award in ignorance; in the eye of
the law he does not act unjustly nor is his awarding unjust, but yet he is in a
certain sense: for the Just according to law and primary or natural Just are
not coincident: but, if he knowingly decided unjustly, then he himself as well
as the receiver got the larger share, that is, either of favour from the
receiver or private revenge against the other party: and so the man who decided
unjustly from these motives gets a larger share, in exactly the same sense as a
man would who received part of the actual matter of the unjust action: because
in this case the man who wrongly adjudged, say a field, did not actually get
land but money by his unjust decision.

Chapter XIV.

Now men suppose that acting Unjustly rests entirely with themselves, and
conclude that acting Justly is therefore also easy. But this is not really so;
to have connection with a neighbour’s wife, or strike one’s
neighbour, or give the money with one’s hand, is of course easy and rests
with one’s self: but the doing these acts with certain inward
dispositions neither is easy nor rests entirely with one’s self. And in
like way, the knowing what is Just and what Unjust men think no great instance
of wisdom because it is not hard to comprehend those things of which the laws
speak. They forget that these are not Just actions, except accidentally: to be
Just they must be done and distributed in a certain manner: and this is a more
difficult task than knowing what things are wholesome; for in this branch of
knowledge it is an easy matter to know honey, wine, hellebore, cautery, or the
use of the knife, but the knowing how one should administer these with a view
to health, and to whom and at what time, amounts in fact to being a physician.

From this very same mistake they suppose also, that acting Unjustly is equally
in the power of the Just man, for the Just man no less, nay even more, than the
Unjust, may be able to do the particular acts; he may be able to have
intercourse with a woman or strike a man; or the brave man to throw away his
shield and turn his back and run this way or that. True: but then it is not the
mere doing these things which constitutes acts of cowardice or injustice
(except accidentally), but the doing them with certain inward dispositions:
just as it is not the mere using or not using the knife, administering or not
administering certain drugs, which constitutes medical treatment or curing, but
doing these things in a certain particular way.

Again the abstract principles of Justice have their province among those who
partake of what is abstractedly good, and can have too much or too little of
these.^[28]
Now there are beings who cannot have too much of them, as perhaps the gods;
there are others, again, to whom no particle of them is of use, those who are
incurably wicked to whom all things are hurtful; others to whom they are useful
to a certain degree: for this reason then the province of Justice is among
Men.

Chapter XV.

We have next to speak of Equity and the Equitable, that is to say, of the
relations of Equity to Justice and the Equitable to the Just; for when we look
into the matter the two do not appear identical nor yet different in kind; and
we sometimes commend the Equitable and the man who embodies it in his actions,
so that by way of praise we commonly transfer the term also to other acts
instead of the term good, thus showing that the more Equitable a thing is the
better it is: at other times following a certain train of reasoning we arrive
at a difficulty, in that the Equitable though distinct from the Just is yet
praiseworthy; it seems to follow either that the Just is not good or the
Equitable not Just, since they are by hypothesis different; or if both are good
then they are identical.

This is a tolerably fair statement of the difficulty which on these grounds
arises in respect of the Equitable; but, in fact, all these may be reconciled
and really involve no contradiction: for the Equitable is Just, being also
better than one form of Just, but is not better than the Just as though it were
different from it in kind: Just and Equitable then are identical, and, both
being good, the Equitable is the better of the two.

What causes the difficulty is this; the Equitable is Just, but not the Just
which is in accordance with written law, being in fact a correction of that
kind of Just. And the account of this is, that every law is necessarily
universal while there are some things which it is not possible to speak of
rightly in any universal or general statement. Where then there is a necessity
for general statement, while a general statement cannot apply rightly to all
cases, the law takes the generality of cases, being fully aware of the error
thus involved; and rightly too notwithstanding, because the fault is not in the
law, or in the framer of the law, but is inherent in the nature of the thing,
because the matter of all action is necessarily such.

When then the law has spoken in general terms, and there arises a case of
exception to the general rule, it is proper, in so far as the lawgiver omits
the case and by reason of his universality of statement is wrong, to set right
the omission by ruling it as the lawgiver himself would rule were he there
present, and would have provided by law had he foreseen the case would arise.
And so the Equitable is Just but better than one form of Just; I do not mean
the abstract Just but the error which arises out of the universality of
statement: and this is the nature of the Equitable, “a correction of Law,
where Law is defective by reason of its universality.”

This is the reason why not all things are according to law, because there are
things about which it is simply impossible to lay down a law, and so we want
special enactments for particular cases. For to speak generally, the rule of
the undefined must be itself undefined also, just as the rule to measure
Lesbian building is made of lead: for this rule shifts according to the form of
each stone and the special enactment according to the facts of the case in
question.

It is clear then what the Equitable is; namely that it is Just but better than
one form of Just: and hence it appears too who the Equitable man is: he is one
who has a tendency to choose and carry out these principles, and who is not apt
to press the letter of the law on the worse side but content to waive his
strict claims though backed by the law: and this moral state is Equity, being a
species of Justice, not a different moral state from Justice.

Chapter XVI.

The answer to the second of the two questions indicated above, “whether
it is possible for a man to deal unjustly by himself,” is obvious from
what has been already stated.

In the first place, one class of Justs is those which are enforced by law in
accordance with Virtue in the most extensive sense of the term: for instance,
the law does not bid a man kill himself; and whatever it does not bid it
forbids: well, whenever a man does hurt contrary to the law (unless by way of
requital of hurt), voluntarily, i.e. knowing to whom he does it and wherewith,
he acts Unjustly. Now he that from rage kills himself, voluntarily, does this
in contravention of Right Reason, which the law does not permit. He therefore
acts Unjustly: but towards whom? towards the Community, not towards himself
(because he suffers with his own consent, and no man can be Unjustly dealt with
with his own consent), and on this principle the Community punishes him; that
is a certain infamy is attached to the suicide as to one who acts Unjustly
towards the Community.

Next, a man cannot deal Unjustly by himself in the sense in which a man is
Unjust who only does Unjust acts without being entirely bad (for the two things
are different, because the Unjust man is in a way bad, as the coward is, not as
though he were chargeable with badness in the full extent of the term, and so
he does not act Unjustly in this sense), because if it were so then it would be
possible for the same thing to have been taken away from and added to the same
person:^[29]
but this is really not possible, the Just and the Unjust always implying a
plurality of persons.

Again, an Unjust action must be voluntary, done of deliberate purpose, and
aggressive (for the man who hurts because he has first suffered and is merely
requiting the same is not thought to act Unjustly), but here the man does to
himself and suffers the same things at the same time.

Again, it would imply the possibility of being Unjustly dealt with with
one’s own consent.

And, besides all this, a man cannot act Unjustly without his act falling under
some particular crime; now a man cannot seduce his own wife, commit a burglary
on his own premises, or steal his own property.

After all, the general answer to the question is to allege what was settled
respecting being Unjustly dealt with with one’s own consent.

Chapter XVII.

It is obvious, moreover, that being Unjustly dealt by and dealing Unjustly by
others are both wrong; because the one is having less, the other having more,
than the mean, and the case is parallel to that of the healthy in the healing
art, and that of good condition in the art of training: but still the dealing
Unjustly by others is the worst of the two, because this involves wickedness
and is blameworthy; wickedness, I mean, either wholly, or nearly so (for not
all voluntary wrong implies injustice), but the being Unjustly dealt by does
not involve wickedness or injustice.

In itself then, the being Unjustly dealt by is the least bad, but accidentally
it may be the greater evil of the two. However, scientific statement cannot
take in such considerations; a pleurisy, for instance, is called a greater
physical evil than a bruise: and yet this last may be the greater accidentally;
it may chance that a bruise received in a fall may cause one to be captured by
the enemy and slain.

Further: Just, in the way of metaphor and similitude, there may be I do not say
between a man and himself exactly but between certain parts of his nature; but
not Just of every kind, only such as belongs to the relation of master and
slave, or to that of the head of a family. For all through this treatise the
rational part of the Soul has been viewed as distinct from the irrational.

Now, taking these into consideration, there is thought to be a possibility of
injustice towards one’s self, because herein it is possible for men to
suffer somewhat in contradiction of impulses really their own; and so it is
thought that there is Just of a certain kind between these parts mutually, as
between ruler and ruled.

Let this then be accepted as an account of the distinctions which we recognise
respecting Justice and the rest of the moral
virtues.^[30]

BOOK VI

Chapter I.

Having stated in a former part of this treatise that men should choose the mean
instead of either the excess or defect, and that the mean is according to the
dictates of Right Reason; we will now proceed to explain this term.

For in all the habits which we have expressly mentioned, as likewise in all the
others, there is, so to speak, a mark with his eye fixed on which the man who
has Reason tightens or slacks his rope;^[1]
and there is a certain limit of those mean states which we say are in
accordance with Right Reason, and lie between excess on the one hand and defect
on the other.

Now to speak thus is true enough but conveys no very definite meaning: as, in
fact, in all other pursuits requiring attention and diligence on which skill
and science are brought to bear; it is quite true of course to say that men are
neither to labour nor relax too much or too little, but in moderation, and as
Right Reason directs; yet if this were all a man had he would not be greatly
the wiser; as, for instance, if in answer to the question, what are proper
applications to the body, he were to be told, “Oh! of course, whatever
the science of medicine, and in such manner as the physician, directs.”

And so in respect of the mental states it is requisite not merely that this
should be true which has been already stated, but further that it should be
expressly laid down what Right Reason is, and what is the definition of it.

Chapter II.

Now in our division of the Excellences of the Soul, we said there were two
classes, the Moral and the Intellectual: the former we have already gone
through; and we will now proceed to speak of the others, premising a few words
respecting the Soul itself. It was stated before, you will remember, that the
Soul consists of two parts, the Rational, and Irrational: we must now make a
similar division of the Rational.

Let it be understood then that there are two parts of the Soul possessed of
Reason; one whereby we realise those existences whose causes cannot be
otherwise than they are, and one whereby we realise those which can be
otherwise than they are,^[2]
(for there must be, answering to things generically different, generically
different parts of the soul naturally adapted to each, since these parts of the
soul possess their knowledge in virtue of a certain resemblance and
appropriateness in themselves to the objects of which they are
percipients);^[3]
and let us name the former, “that which is apt to know,” the
latter, “that which is apt to calculate” (because deliberating and
calculating are the same, and no one ever deliberates about things which cannot
be otherwise than they are: and so the Calculative will be one part of the
Rational faculty of the soul).

We must discover, then, which is the best state of each of these, because that
will be the Excellence of each; and this again is relative to the work each has
to do.^[4]

There are in the Soul three functions on which depend moral action and truth;
Sense, Intellect, Appetition, whether vague Desire or definite Will. Now of
these Sense is the originating cause of no moral action, as is seen from the
fact that brutes have Sense but are in no way partakers of moral
action.^[5]

[Intellect and Will are thus connected,] what in the Intellectual operation is
Affirmation and Negation that in the Will is Pursuit and Avoidance, And so,
since Moral Virtue is a State apt to exercise Moral Choice and Moral Choice is
Will consequent on deliberation, the Reason must be true and the Will right, to
constitute good Moral Choice, and what the Reason affirms the Will must
pursue.^[6]

Now this Intellectual operation and this Truth is what bears upon Moral Action;
of course truth and falsehood must be the good and the bad of that Intellectual
Operation which is purely Speculative, and concerned neither with action nor
production, because this is manifestly the work of every Intellectual faculty,
while of the faculty which is of a mixed Practical and Intellectual nature, the
work is that Truth which, as I have described above, corresponds to the right
movement of the Will.

Now the starting-point of moral action is Moral Choice, (I mean, what actually
sets it in motion, not the final cause,)^[7]
and of Moral Choice, Appetition, and Reason directed to a certain result: and
thus Moral Choice is neither independent of intellect, i. e. intellectual
operation, nor of a certain moral state: for right or wrong action cannot be,
independently of operation of the Intellect, and moral character.

But operation of the Intellect by itself moves nothing, only when directed to a
certain result, i. e. exercised in Moral Action: (I say nothing of its being
exercised in production, because this function is originated by the former: for
every one who makes makes with a view to somewhat further; and that which is or
may be made, is not an End in itself, but only relatively to somewhat else, and
belonging to some one:^[8]
whereas that which is or may be done is an End in itself, because acting well
is an End in itself, and this is the object of the Will,) and so Moral Choice
is either^[9]
Intellect put in a position of Will-ing, or Appetition subjected to an
Intellectual Process. And such a Cause is Man.

But nothing which is done and past can be the object of Moral Choice; for
instance, no man chooses to have sacked Troy; because, in fact, no one ever
deliberates about what is past, but only about that which is future, and which
may therefore be influenced, whereas what has been cannot not have been: and so
Agathon is right in saying

“Of this alone is Deity bereft,
To make undone whatever hath been done.”

Thus then Truth is the work of both the Intellectual Parts of the Soul; those
states therefore are the Excellences of each in which each will best attain
truth.

Chapter III.

Commencing then from the point stated above we will now speak of these
Excellences again. Let those faculties whereby the Soul attains truth in
Affirmation or Negation, be assumed to be in number five:^[10]
viz. Art, Knowledge, Practical Wisdom, Science, Intuition: (Supposition
and Opinion I do not include, because by these one may go wrong.)

What Knowledge is, is plain from the following of considerations, if one is to
speak accurately, instead of being led away by resemblances. For we all
conceive that what we strictly speaking know, cannot be otherwise than it is,
because as to those things which can be otherwise than they are, we are
uncertain whether they are or are not, the moment they cease to be within the
sphere of our actual observation.

So then, whatever comes within the range of Knowledge is by necessity, and
therefore eternal, (because all things are so which exist necessarily,) and all
eternal things are without beginning, and indestructible.

Again, all Knowledge is thought to be capable of being taught, and what comes
within its range capable of being learned. And all teaching is based upon
previous knowledge; (a statement you will find in the Analytics also,)^[11]
for there are two ways of teaching, by Syllogism and by Induction. In fact.
Induction is the source of universal propositions, and Syllogism reasons from
these universals.^[12]
Syllogism then may reason from principles which cannot be themselves proved
Syllogistically: and therefore must by Induction.

So Knowledge is “a state or mental faculty apt to demonstrate
syllogistically,” &c. as in the Analytics:^[13]
because a man, strictly and properly speaking, knows, when he
establishes his conclusion in a certain way, and the principles are known to
him: for if they are not better known to him than the conclusion, such
knowledge as he has will be merely accidental.

Let thus much be accepted as a definition of Knowledge.

Chapter IV.

Matter which may exist otherwise than it actually does in any given case
(commonly called Contingent) is of two kinds, that which is the object of
Making, and that which is the object of Doing; now Making and Doing are two
different things (as we show in the exoteric treatise), and so that state of
mind, conjoined with Reason, which is apt to Do, is distinct from that also
conjoined with Reason, which is apt to Make: and for this reason they are not
included one by the other, that is, Doing is not Making, nor Making Doing.^[14]
Now^[15]
as Architecture is an Art, and is the same as “a certain state of mind,
conjoined with Reason, which is apt to Make,” and as there is no Art
which is not such a state, nor any such state which is not an Art, Art, in its
strict and proper sense, must be “a state of mind, conjoined with true
Reason, apt to Make.”

Now all Art has to do with production, and contrivance, and seeing how any of
those things may be produced which may either be or not be, and the origination
of which rests with the maker and not with the thing made.

And, so neither things which exist or come into being necessarily, nor things
in the way of nature, come under the province of Art, because these are
self-originating. And since Making and Doing are distinct, Art must be
concerned with the former and not the latter. And in a certain sense Art and
Fortune are concerned with the same things, as, Agathon says by the way,

“Art Fortune loves, and is of her beloved.”

So Art, as has been stated, is “a certain state of mind, apt to Make,
conjoined with true Reason;” its absence, on the contrary, is the same
state conjoined with false Reason, and both are employed upon Contingent
matter.

Chapter V.

As for Practical Wisdom, we shall ascertain its nature by examining to what
kind of persons we in common language ascribe it.^[16]

It is thought then to be the property of the Practically Wise man to be able to
deliberate well respecting what is good and expedient for himself, not in any
definite line,^[17]
as what is conducive to health or strength, but what to living well. A proof of
this is that we call men Wise in this or that, when they calculate well with a
view to some good end in a case where there is no definite rule. And so, in a
general way of speaking, the man who is good at deliberation will be
Practically Wise. Now no man deliberates respecting things which cannot be
otherwise than they are, nor such as lie not within the range of his own
action: and so, since Knowledge requires strict demonstrative reasoning, of
which Contingent matter does not admit (I say Contingent matter, because all
matters of deliberation must be Contingent and deliberation cannot take place
with respect to things which are Necessarily), Practical Wisdom cannot be
Knowledge nor Art; nor the former, because what falls under the province of
Doing must be Contingent; not the latter, because Doing and Making are
different in kind.

It remains then that it must be “a state of mind true, conjoined with
Reason, and apt to Do, having for its object those things which are good or bad
for Man:” because of Making something beyond itself is always the object,
but cannot be of Doing because the very well-doing is in itself an End.

For this reason we think Pericles and men of that stamp to be Practically Wise,
because they can see what is good for themselves and for men in general, and we
also think those to be such who are skilled in domestic management or civil
government. In fact, this is the reason why we call the habit of perfected
self-mastery by the name which in Greek it bears, etymologically signifying
“that which preserves the Practical Wisdom:” for what it does
preserve is the Notion I have mentioned, i.e. of one’s own true
interest.^[18]

For it is not every kind of Notion which the pleasant and the painful corrupt
and pervert, as, for instance, that “the three angles of every
rectilineal triangle are equal to two right angles,” but only those
bearing on moral action.

For the Principles of the matters of moral action are the final cause of
them:^[19]
now to the man who has been corrupted by reason of pleasure or pain the
Principle immediately becomes obscured, nor does he see that it is his duty to
choose and act in each instance with a view to this final cause and by reason
of it: for viciousness has a tendency to destroy the moral Principle: and so
Practical Wisdom must be “a state conjoined with reason, true, having
human good for its object, and apt to do.”

Then again Art admits of degrees of excellence, but Practical Wisdom does
not:^[20]
and in Art he who goes wrong purposely is preferable to him who does so
unwittingly,^[21]
but not so in respect of Practical Wisdom or the other Virtues. It plainly is
then an Excellence of a certain kind, and not an Art.

Now as there are two parts of the Soul which have Reason, it must be the
Excellence of the Opinionative [which we called before calculative or
deliberative], because both Opinion and Practical Wisdom are exercised upon
Contingent matter. And further, it is not simply a state conjoined with Reason,
as is proved by the fact that such a state may be forgotten and so lost while
Practical Wisdom cannot.

Chapter VI.

Now Knowledge is a conception concerning universals and Necessary matter, and
there are of course certain First Principles in all trains of demonstrative
reasoning (that is of all Knowledge because this is connected with reasoning):
that faculty, then, which takes in the first principles of that which comes
under the range of Knowledge, cannot be either Knowledge, or Art, or Practical
Wisdom: not Knowledge, because what is the object of Knowledge must be derived
from demonstrative reasoning; not either of the other two, because they are
exercised upon Contingent matter only. Nor can it be Science which takes in
these, because the Scientific Man must in some cases depend on demonstrative
Reasoning.

It comes then to this: since the faculties whereby we always attain truth and
are never deceived when dealing with matter Necessary or even Contingent are
Knowledge, Practical Wisdom, Science, and Intuition, and the faculty which
takes in First Principles cannot be any of the three first; the last, namely
Intuition, must be it which performs this function.

Chapter VII.

Science is a term we use principally in two meanings: in the first place, in
the Arts we ascribe it to those who carry their arts to the highest
accuracy;^[22]
Phidias, for instance, we call a Scientific or cunning sculptor; Polycleitus a
Scientific or cunning statuary; meaning, in this instance, nothing else by
Science than an excellence of art: in the other sense, we think some to be
Scientific in a general way, not in any particular line or in any particular
thing, just as Homer says of a man in his Margites; “Him the Gods made
neither a digger of the ground, nor ploughman, nor in any other way
Scientific.”

So it is plain that Science must mean the most accurate of all Knowledge; but
if so, then the Scientific man must not merely know the deductions from the
First Principles but be in possession of truth respecting the First Principles.
So that Science must be equivalent to Intuition and Knowledge; it is, so to
speak, Knowledge of the most precious objects, with a head
on.^[23]

I say of the most precious things, because it is absurd to suppose
πολιτικὴ,^[24]
or Practical Wisdom, to be the highest, unless it can be shown that Man is the
most excellent of all that exists in the Universe. Now if “healthy”
and “good” are relative terms, differing when applied to men or to
fish, but “white” and “straight” are the same always,
men must allow that the Scientific is the same always, but the Practically Wise
varies: for whatever provides all things well for itself, to this they would
apply the term Practically Wise, and commit these matters to it; which is the
reason, by the way, that they call some brutes Practically Wise, such that is
as plainly have a faculty of forethought respecting their own subsistence.

And it is quite plain that Science and
πολιτικὴ cannot be identical: because
if men give the name of Science to that faculty which is employed upon what is
expedient for themselves, there will be many instead of one, because there is
not one and the same faculty employed on the good of all animals collectively,
unless in the same sense as you may say there is one art of healing with
respect to all living beings.

If it is urged that man is superior to all other animals, that makes no
difference: for there are many other things more Godlike in their nature than
Man, as, most obviously, the elements of which the Universe is
composed.^[25]

It is plain then that Science is the union of Knowledge and Intuition, and has
for its objects those things which are most precious in their nature.
Accordingly, Anexagoras, Thales, and men of that stamp, people call Scientific,
but not Practically Wise because they see them ignorant of what concerns
themselves; and they say that what they know is quite out of the common run
certainly, and wonderful, and hard, and very fine no doubt, but still useless
because they do not seek after what is good for them as men.

Chapter VIII.

But Practical Wisdom is employed upon human matters, and such as are objects of
deliberation (for we say, that to deliberate well is most peculiarly the work
of the man who possesses this Wisdom), and no man deliberates about things
which cannot be otherwise than they are, nor about any save those that have
some definite End and this End good resulting from Moral Action; and the man to
whom we should give the name of Good in Counsel, simply and without
modification, is he who in the way of calculation has a capacity for attaining
that of practical goods which is the best for Man.

Nor again does Practical Wisdom consist in a knowledge of general principles
only, but it is necessary that one should know also the particular details,
because it is apt to act, and action is concerned with details: for which
reason sometimes men who have not much knowledge are more practical than others
who have; among others, they who derive all they know from actual experience:
suppose a man to know, for instance, that light meats are easy of digestion and
wholesome, but not what kinds of meat are light, he will not produce a healthy
state; that man will have a much better chance of doing so, who knows that the
flesh of birds is light and wholesome. Since then Practical Wisdom is apt to
act, one ought to have both kinds of knowledge, or, if only one, the knowledge
of details rather than of Principles. So there will be in respect of Practical
Wisdom the distinction of supreme and
subordinate.^[26]

Further: πολιτικὴ and Practical Wisdom
are the same mental state, but the point of view is not the same.

Of Practical Wisdom exerted upon a community that which I would call the
Supreme is the faculty of Legislation; the subordinate, which is concerned with
the details, generally has the common name
πολιτικὴ, and its functions are Action
and Deliberation (for the particular enactment is a matter of action, being the
ultimate issue of this branch of Practical Wisdom, and therefore people
commonly say, that these men alone are really engaged in government, because
they alone act, filling the same place relatively to legislators, that workmen
do to a master).^[27]

Again, that is thought to be Practical Wisdom in the most proper sense which
has for its object the interest of the Individual: and this usually
appropriates the common name: the others are called respectively Domestic
Management, Legislation, Executive Government divided into two branches,
Deliberative and Judicial.^[28]
Now of course, knowledge for one’s self is one kind of knowledge, but it
admits of many shades of difference: and it is a common notion that the man who
knows and busies himself about his own concerns merely is the man of Practical
Wisdom, while they who extend their solicitude to society at large are
considered meddlesome.

Euripides has thus embodied this sentiment; “How,” says one of his
Characters, “How foolish am I, who whereas I might have shared equally,
idly numbered among the multitude of the army *** for them that are busy and
meddlesome [Jove hates],” because the generality of mankind seek their
own good and hold that this is their proper business. It is then from this
opinion that the notion has arisen that such men are the Practically-Wise. And
yet it is just possible that the good of the individual cannot be secured
independently of connection with a family or a community. And again, how a man
should manage his own affairs is sometimes not quite plain, and must be made a
matter of enquiry.^[29]

A corroboration of what I have said is^[30]
the fact, that the young come to be geometricians, and mathematicians, and
Scientific in such matters, but it is not thought that a young man can come to
be possessed of Practical Wisdom: now the reason is, that this Wisdom has for
its object particular facts, which come to be known from experience, which a
young man has not because it is produced only by length of time.

By the way, a person might also enquire,^[31]
why a boy may be made a mathematician but not Scientific or a natural
philosopher. Is not this the reason? that mathematics are taken in by the
process of abstraction, but the principles of Science^[32]
and natural philosophy must be gained by experiment; and the latter young men
talk of but do not realise, while the nature of the former is plain and clear.

Again, in matter of practice, error attaches either to the general rule, in the
process of deliberation, or to the particular fact: for instance, this would be
a general rule, “All water of a certain gravity is bad;” the
particular fact, “this water is of that gravity.”

And that Practical Wisdom is not Knowledge is plain, for it has to do with the
ultimate issue,^[33]
as has been said, because every object of action is of this nature.

To Intuition it is opposed, for this takes in those principles which cannot be
proved by reasoning, while Practical Wisdom is concerned with the ultimate
particular fact which cannot be realised by Knowledge but by Sense; I do not
mean one of the five senses, but the same by which we take in the mathematical
fact, that no rectilineal figure can be contained by less than three lines,
i.e. that a triangle is the ultimate figure, because here also is a stopping
point.

This however is Sense rather than Practical Wisdom, which is of another
kind.^[34]

Chapter IX.

Now the acts of enquiring and deliberating differ, though deliberating is a
kind of enquiring. We ought to ascertain about Good Counsel likewise what it
is, whether a kind of Knowledge, or Opinion, or Happy Conjecture, or some other
kind of faculty. Knowledge it obviously is not, because men do not enquire
about what they know, and Good Counsel is a kind of deliberation, and the man
who is deliberating is enquiring and calculating.

Neither is it Happy Conjecture; because this is independent of reasoning, and a
rapid operation; but men deliberate a long time, and it is a common saying that
one should execute speedily what has been resolved upon in deliberation, but
deliberate slowly.

Quick perception of causes^[35]
again is a different faculty from good counsel, for it is a species of Happy
Conjecture. Nor is Good Counsel Opinion of any kind.

Well then, since he who deliberates ill goes wrong, and he who deliberates well
does so rightly, it is clear that Good Counsel is rightness of some kind, but
not of Knowledge nor of Opinion: for Knowledge cannot be called right because
it cannot be wrong, and Rightness of Opinion is Truth: and again, all which is
the object of opinion is definitely marked
out.^[36]

Still, however, Good Counsel is not independent of Reason, Does it remain then
that it is a rightness of Intellectual Operation simply, because this does not
amount to an assertion; and the objection to Opinion was that it is not a
process of enquiry but already a definite assertion; whereas whosoever
deliberates, whether well or ill, is engaged in enquiry and calculation.

Well, Good Counsel is a Rightness of deliberation, and so the first question
must regard the nature and objects of deliberation. Now remember Rightness is
an equivocal term; we plainly do not mean Rightness of any kind whatever; the
ἀκρατὴς, for instance, or the bad man,
will obtain by his calculation what he sets before him as an object, and so he
may be said to have deliberated rightly in one sense, but will have
attained a great evil. Whereas to have deliberated well is thought to be a
good, because Good Counsel is Rightness of deliberation of such a nature as is
apt to attain good.

But even this again you may get by false reasoning, and hit upon the right
effect though not through right means,^[37]
your middle term being fallacious: and so neither will this be yet Good Counsel
in consequence of which you get what you ought but not through proper means.

Again, one man may hit on a thing after long deliberation, another quickly. And
so that before described will not be yet Good Counsel, but the Rightness must
be with reference to what is expedient; and you must have a proper end in view,
pursue it in a right manner and right time.

Once more. One may deliberate well either generally or towards some particular
End.^[38]
Good counsel in the general then is that which goes right towards that which is
the End in a general way of consideration; in particular, that which does so
towards some particular End.

Since then deliberating well is a quality of men possessed of Practical Wisdom,
Good Counsel must be “Rightness in respect of what conduces to a given
End, of which^[39]
Practical Wisdom is the true conception.”

Chapter X.

There is too the faculty of Judiciousness, and also its absence, in virtue of
which we call men Judicious or the contrary.

Now Judiciousness is neither entirely identical with Knowledge or Opinion (for
then all would have been Judicious), nor is it any one specific science, as
medical science whose object matter is things wholesome; or geometry whose
object matter is magnitude: for it has not for its object things which always
exist and are immutable, nor of those things which come into being just any
which may chance; but those in respect of which a man might doubt and
deliberate.

And so it has the same object matter as Practical Wisdom; yet the two faculties
are not identical, because Practical Wisdom has the capacity for commanding and
taking the initiative, for its End is “what one should do or not
do:” but Judiciousness is only apt to decide upon suggestions (though we
do in Greek put “well” on to the faculty and its concrete noun,
these really mean exactly the same as the plain words), and Judiciousness is
neither the having Practical Wisdom, nor attaining it: but just as learning is
termed συνιέναι when a man uses his
knowledge, so judiciousness consists in employing the Opinionative faculty in
judging concerning those things which come within the province of Practical
Wisdom, when another enunciates them; and not judging merely, but judging well
(for εὐ and καλῶς mean exactly the same
thing). And the Greek name of this faculty is derived from the use of the term
συνιέναι in learning:
μανθάνειν and
συνιέναι being often used as
synonymous.

The faculty called γνώμη,^[40]
in right of which we call men
εὐγνώμονες, or say they
have γνώμη, is “the right judgment of the
equitable man.” A proof of which is that we most commonly say that the
equitable man has a tendency to make allowance, and the making allowance in
certain cases is equitable. And
συγγνώμη (the word denoting allowance)
is right γνώμη having a capacity of making equitable
decisions, By “right” I mean that of the Truthful man.

Chapter XI.

Now all these mental states^[41]
tend to the same object, as indeed common language leads us to expect: I mean,
we speak of γνώμη, Judiciousness, Practical Wisdom,
and Practical Intuition, attributing the possession of
γνώμη and Practical Intuition to the same Individuals
whom we denominate Practically-Wise and Judicious: because all these faculties
are employed upon the extremes,^[42]
i.e. on particular details; and in right of his aptitude for deciding on the
matters which come within the province of the Practically-Wise, a man is
Judicious and possessed of good γνώμη; i.e. he is
disposed to make allowance, for considerations of equity are entertained by all
good men alike in transactions with their fellows.

And all matters of Moral Action belong to the class of particulars, otherwise
called extremes: for the man of Practical Wisdom must know them, and
Judiciousness and γνώμη are concerned with matters of
Moral Actions, which are extremes.

Intuition, moreover, takes in the extremes at both ends:^[43]
I mean, the first and last terms must be taken in not by reasoning but by
Intuition [so that Intuition comes to be of two kinds], and that which belongs
to strict demonstrative reasonings takes in immutable, i.e. Necessary, first
terms; while that which is employed in practical matters takes in the extreme,
the Contingent, and the minor Premiss:^[44]
for the minor Premisses are the source of the Final Cause, Universals being
made up out of Particulars.^[45]
To take in these, of course, we must have Sense, i.e. in other words Practical
Intuition.

And for this reason these are thought to be simply gifts of nature; and whereas
no man is thought to be Scientific by nature, men are thought to have
γνώμη, and Judiciousness, and Practical Intuition: a
proof of which is that we think these faculties are a consequence even of
particular ages, and this given age has Practical Intuition and
γνώμη, we say, as if under the notion that nature is
the cause. And thus Intuition is both the beginning and end, because the proofs
are based upon the one kind of extremes and concern the other.

And so^[46]
one should attend to the undemonstrable dicta and opinions of the skilful, the
old and the Practically-Wise, no less than to those which are based on strict
reasoning, because they see aright, having gained their power of moral vision
from experience.

Chapter XII.

Well, we have now stated the nature and objects of Practical Wisdom and Science
respectively, and that they belong each to a different part of the Soul. But I
can conceive a person questioning their utility. “Science,” he
would say, “concerns itself with none of the causes of human happiness
(for it has nothing to do with producing anything): Practical Wisdom has this
recommendation, I grant, but where is the need of it, since its province is
those things which are just and honourable, and good for man, and these are the
things which the good man as such does; but we are not a bit the more apt to do
them because we know them, since the Moral Virtues are Habits; just as we are
not more apt to be healthy or in good condition from mere knowledge of what
relates to these (I mean,^[47]
of course, things so called not from their producing health, etc., but from
their evidencing it in a particular subject), for we are not more apt to be
healthy and in good condition merely from knowing the art of medicine or
training.

“If it be urged that knowing what is good does not by itself make
a Practically-Wise man but becoming good; still this Wisdom will be no
use either to those that are good, and so have it already, or to those who have
it not; because it will make no difference to them whether they have it
themselves or put themselves under the guidance of others who have; and we
might be contented to be in respect of this as in respect of health: for though
we wish to be healthy still we do not set about learning the art of healing.

“Furthermore, it would seem to be strange that, though lower in the scale
than Science, it is to be its master; which it is, because whatever produces
results takes the rule and directs in each matter.”

This then is what we are to talk about, for these are the only points now
raised.

Now first we say that being respectively Excellences of different parts of the
Soul they must be choice-worthy, even on the supposition that they neither of
them produce results.

In the next place we say that they do produce results; that Science
makes Happiness, not as the medical art but as healthiness makes
health:^[48]
because, being a part of Virtue in its most extensive sense, it makes a man
happy by being possessed and by working.

Next, Man’s work as Man is accomplished by virtue of Practical
Wisdom and Moral Virtue, the latter giving the right aim and direction, the
former the right means to its attainment;^[49]
but of the fourth part of the Soul, the mere nutritive principle, there is no
such Excellence, because nothing is in its power to do or leave
undone.^[50]

As to our not being more apt to do what is noble and just by reason of
possessing Practical Wisdom, we must begin a little higher
up,^[51]
taking this for our starting-point. As we say that men may do things in
themselves just and yet not be just men; for instance, when men do what the
laws require of them, either against their will, or by reason of ignorance or
something else, at all events not for the sake of the things themselves; and
yet they do what they ought and all that the good man should do; so it seems
that to be a good man one must do each act in a particular frame of mind, I
mean from Moral Choice and for the sake of the things themselves which are
done. Now it is Virtue which makes the Moral Choice right, but whatever is
naturally required to carry out that Choice comes under the province not of
Virtue but of a different faculty. We must halt, as it were, awhile, and speak
more clearly on these points.

There is then a certain faculty, commonly named Cleverness, of such a nature as
to be able to do and attain whatever conduces to any given purpose: now
if that purpose be a good one the faculty is praiseworthy; if otherwise, it
goes by a name which, denoting strictly the ability, implies the willingness to
do anything; we accordingly call the Practically-Wise Clever, and also
those who can and will do anything.^[52]

Now Practical Wisdom is not identical with Cleverness, nor is it without this
power of adapting means to ends: but this Eye of the Soul (as we may call it)
does not attain its proper state without goodness, as we have said before and
as is quite plain, because the syllogisms into which Moral Action may be
analysed have for their Major Premiss,^[53]
“since —— is the End and the Chief Good”^[54]
(fill up the blank with just anything you please, for we merely want to exhibit
the Form, so that anything will do), but how this blank should be filled
is seen only by the good man: because Vice distorts the moral vision and causes
men to be deceived in respect of practical
principles.^[55]

It is clear, therefore, that a man cannot be a Practically-Wise, without being
a good, man.

We must enquire again also about Virtue: for it may be divided into Natural
Virtue and Matured, which two bear to each other a relation similar to that
which Practical Wisdom bears to Cleverness, one not of identity but
resemblance. I speak of Natural Virtue, because men hold that each of the moral
dispositions attach to us all somehow by nature: we have dispositions^[56]
towards justice, self-mastery and courage, for instance, immediately from our
birth: but still we seek Goodness in its highest sense as something distinct
from these, and that these dispositions should attach to us in a somewhat
different fashion.^[57]
Children and brutes have these natural states, but then they are plainly
hurtful unless combined with an intellectual element: at least thus much is
matter of actual experience and observation, that as a strong body destitute of
sight must, if set in motion, fall violently because it has not sight, so it is
also in the case we are considering: but if it can get the intellectual element
it then excels in acting. Just so the Natural State of Virtue, being like this
strong body, will then be Virtue in the highest sense when it too is combined
with the intellectual element.

So that, as in the case of the Opinionative faculty, there are two forms,
Cleverness and Practical Wisdom; so also in the case of the Moral there are
two, Natural Virtue and Matured; and of these the latter cannot be formed
without Practical Wisdom.^[58]

This leads some to say that all the Virtues are merely intellectual Practical
Wisdom, and Socrates was partly right in his enquiry and partly wrong: wrong in
that he thought all the Virtues were merely intellectual Practical Wisdom,
right in saying they were not independent of that faculty.

A proof of which is that now all, in defining Virtue, add on the
“state” [mentioning also to what standard it has reference, namely
that] “which is accordant with Right Reason:” now
“right” means in accordance with Practical Wisdom. So then all seem
to have an instinctive notion that that state which is in accordance with
Practical Wisdom is Virtue; however, we must make a slight change in their
statement, because that state is Virtue, not merely which is in accordance with
but which implies the possession of Right Reason; which, upon such matters, is
Practical Wisdom. The difference between us and Socrates is this: he thought
the Virtues were reasoning processes (i.e. that they were all instances
of Knowledge in its strict sense), but we say they imply the possession of
Reason.

From what has been said then it is clear that one cannot be, strictly speaking,
good without Practical Wisdom nor Practically-Wise without moral goodness.

And by the distinction between Natural and Matured Virtue one can meet the
reasoning by which it might be argued “that the Virtues are separable
because the same man is not by nature most inclined to all at once so that he
will have acquired this one before he has that other:” we would reply
that this is possible with respect to the Natural Virtues but not with respect
to those in right of which a man is denominated simply good: because they will
all belong to him together with the one faculty of Practical Wisdom.

It is plain too that even had it not been apt to act we should have needed it,
because it is the Excellence of a part of the Soul; and that the moral choice
cannot be right independently of Practical Wisdom and Moral Goodness; because
this gives the right End, that causes the doing these things which conduce to
the End.

Then again, it is not Master of Science (i.e. of the superior part of the
Soul), just as neither is the healing art Master of health; for it does not
make use of it, but looks how it may come to be: so it commands for the sake of
it but does not command it.

The objection is, in fact, about as valid as if a man should say
πολιτικὴ governs the gods because it
gives orders about all things in the communty.

APPENDIX

On ἐπισπήμη, from I. Post. Analyt.
chap. i. and ii.

(Such parts only are translated as throw light on the Ethics.)

All teaching, and all intellectual learning, proceeds on the basis of previous
knowledge, as will appear on an examination of all. The Mathematical Sciences,
and every other system, draw their conclusions in this method. So too of
reasonings, whether by syllogism, or induction: for both teach through what is
previously known, the former assuming the premisses as from wise men, the
latter proving universals from the evidentness of the particulars. In like
manner too rhetoricians persuade, either through examples (which amounts to
induction), or through enthymemes (which amounts to syllogism).

CHAP. II

Well, we suppose that we know things (in the strict and proper sense of
the word) when we suppose ourselves to know the cause by reason of which the
thing is to be the cause of it; and that this cannot be otherwise. It is plain
that the idea intended to be conveyed by the term knowing is something
of this kind; because they who do not really know suppose themselves thus
related to the matter in hand and they who do know really are so that of
whatsoever there is properly speaking Knowledge this cannot be otherwise than
it is Whether or no there is another way of knowing we will say afterwards, but
we do say that we know through demonstration, by which I mean a syllogism apt
to produce Knowledge, i.e. in right of which through having it, we know.

If Knowledge then is such as we have described it, the Knowledge produced by
demonstrative reasoning must be drawn from premisses true and
first, and incapable of syllogistic proof, and better
known, and prior in order of time, and causes of the
conclusion, for so the principles will be akin to the conclusion
demonstrated.

(Syllogism, of course there may be without such premisses, but it will not be
demonstration because it will not produce knowledge).

True, they must be, because it is impossible to know that which is not.

First, that is indemonstrable, because, if demonstrable, he cannot be
said to know them who has no demonstration of them for knowing such
things as are demonstrable is the same as having demonstration of them.

Causes they must be, and better known, and prior in time,
causes, because we then know when we are acquainted with the cause, and
prior, if causes, and known beforehand, not merely comprehended
in idea but known to exist (The terms prior, and better known, bear two senses
for prior by nature and prior relatively to ourselves are not the
same, nor better known by nature, and better known to us I mean,
by prior and better known relatively to ourselves, such things as
are nearer to sensation, but abstractedly so such as are further Those are
furthest which are most universal those nearest which are particulars, and
these are mutually opposed.)

And by first, I mean principles akin to the conclusion, for
principle means the same as first And the principle or first step in
demonstration is a proposition incapable of syllogistic proof, i.e. one
to which there is none prior. Now of such syllogistic principles I call that a
θέσις which you cannot demonstrate, and which is
unnecessary with a view to learning something else. That which is necessary in
order to learn something else is an Axiom.

Further, since one is to believe and know the thing by having a syllogism of
the kind called demonstration, and what constitutes it to be such is the nature
of the premisses, it is necessary not merely to know before, but to
know better than the conclusion, either all or at least some of, the
principles, because that which is the cause of a quality inhering in something
else always inheres itself more as the cause of our loving is itself more
lovable. So, since the principles are the cause of our knowing and behoving we
know and believe them more, because by reason of them we know also the
conclusion following.

Further: the man who is to have the Knowledge which comes through demonstration
must not merely know and believe his principles better than he does his
conclusion, but he must believe nothing more firmly than the contradictories of
those principles out of which the contrary fallacy may be constructed: since he
who knows, is to be simply and absolutely infallible.

BOOK VII

Chapter I.

Next we must take a different point to start from,^[1]
and observe that of what is to be avoided in respect of moral character there
are three forms; Vice, Imperfect Self-Control, and Brutishness. Of the two
former it is plain what the contraries are, for we call the one Virtue, the
other Self-Control; and as answering to Brutishness it will be most suitable to
assign Superhuman, i.e. heroical and godlike Virtue, as, in Homer, Priam says
of Hector “that he was very excellent, nor was he like the offspring of
mortal man, but of a god.” and so, if, as is commonly said, men are
raised to the position of gods by reason of very high excellence in Virtue, the
state opposed to the Brutish will plainly be of this nature: because as brutes
are not virtuous or vicious so neither are gods; but the state of these is
something more precious than Virtue, of the former something different in kind
from Vice.

And as, on the one hand, it is a rare thing for a man to be godlike (a term the
Lacedæmonians are accustomed to use when they admire a man exceedingly;
σεῖος ἀνὴρ they call him), so
the brutish man is rare; the character is found most among barbarians, and some
cases of it are caused by disease or maiming; also such men as exceed in vice
all ordinary measures we therefore designate by this opprobrious term. Well, we
must in a subsequent place make some mention of this disposition, and Vice has
been spoken of before: for the present we must speak of Imperfect Self-Control
and its kindred faults of Softness and Luxury, on the one hand, and of
Self-Control and Endurance on the other; since we are to conceive of them, not
as being the same states exactly as Virtue and Vice respectively, nor again as
differing in kind.

And we should adopt the same course as before, i.e. state the phenomena, and,
after raising and discussing difficulties which suggest themselves, then
exhibit, if possible, all the opinions afloat respecting these affections of
the moral character; or, if not all, the greater part and the most important:
for we may consider we have illustrated the matter sufficiently when the
difficulties have been solved, and such theories as are most approved are left
as a residuum.

The chief points may be thus enumerated. It is thought,

I. That Self-Control and Endurance belong to the class of things good and
praiseworthy, while Imperfect Self-Control and Softness belong to that of
things low and blameworthy.

II. That the man of Self-Control is identical with the man who is apt to abide
by his resolution, and the man of Imperfect Self-Control with him who is apt to
depart from his resolution.

III. That the man of Imperfect Self-Control does things at the instigation of
his passions, knowing them to be wrong, while the man of Self-Control, knowing
his lusts to be wrong, refuses, by the influence of reason, to follow their
suggestions.

IV. That the man of Perfected Self-Mastery unites the qualities of Self-Control
and Endurance, and some say that every one who unites these is a man of Perfect
Self-Mastery, others do not.

V. Some confound the two characters of the man who has no Self-Control,
and the man of Imperfect Self-Control, while others distinguish between
them.

VI. It is sometimes said that the man of Practical Wisdom cannot be a man of
Imperfect Self-Control, sometimes that men who are Practically Wise and Clever
are of Imperfect Self-Control.

VII. Again, men are said to be of Imperfect Self-Control, not simply but with
the addition of the thing wherein, as in respect of anger, of honour, and gain.

These then are pretty well the common statements.

Chapter II.

Now a man may raise a question as to the nature of the right conception in
violation of which a man fails of Self-Control.

That he can so fail when knowing in the strict sense what is right some
say is impossible: for it is a strange thing, as Socrates thought, that while
Knowledge is present in his mind something else should master him and drag him
about like a slave. Socrates in fact contended generally against the theory,
maintaining there is no such state as that of Imperfect Self-Control, for that
no one acts contrary to what is best conceiving it to be best but by reason of
ignorance what is best.

With all due respect to Socrates, his account of the matter is at variance with
plain facts, and we must enquire with respect to the affection, if it be caused
by ignorance what is the nature of the ignorance: for that the man so failing
does not suppose his acts to be right before he is under the influence of
passion is quite plain.^[2]

There are people who partly agree with Socrates and partly not: that nothing
can be stronger than Knowledge they agree, but that no man acts in
contravention of his conviction of what is better they do not agree; and so
they say that it is not Knowledge, but only Opinion, which the man in question
has and yet yields to the instigation of his pleasures.

But then, if it is Opinion and not Knowledge, that is it the opposing
conception be not strong but only mild (as in the case of real doubt), the not
abiding by it in the face of strong lusts would be excusable: but wickedness is
not excusable, nor is anything which deserves blame.

Well then, is it Practical Wisdom which in this case offers opposition: for
that is the strongest principle? The supposition is absurd, for we shall have
the same man uniting Practical Wisdom and Imperfect Self-Control, and surely no
single person would maintain that it is consistent with the character of
Practical Wisdom to do voluntarily what is very wrong; and besides we have
shown before that the very mark of a man of this character is aptitude to act,
as distinguished from mere knowledge of what is right; because he is a man
conversant with particular details, and possessed of all the other virtues.

Again, if the having strong and bad lusts is necessary to the idea of the man
of Self-Control, this character cannot be identical with the man of Perfected
Self-Mastery, because the having strong desires or bad ones does not enter into
the idea of this latter character: and yet the man of Self-Control must have
such: for suppose them good; then the moral state which should hinder a man
from following their suggestions must be bad, and so Self-Control would not be
in all cases good: suppose them on the other hand to be weak and not wrong, it
would be nothing grand; nor anything great, supposing them to be wrong and
weak.

Again, if Self-Control makes a man apt to abide by all opinions without
exception, it may be bad, as suppose the case of a false opinion: and if
Imperfect Self-Control makes a man apt to depart from all without exception, we
shall have cases where it will be good; take that of Neoptolemus in the
Philoctetes of Sophocles, for instance: he is to be praised for not abiding by
what he was persuaded to by Ulysses, because he was pained at being guilty of
falsehood.

Or again, false sophistical reasoning presents a difficulty: for because men
wish to prove paradoxes that they may be counted clever when they succeed, the
reasoning that has been used becomes a difficulty: for the intellect is
fettered; a man being unwilling to abide by the conclusion because it does not
please his judgment, but unable to advance because he cannot disentangle the
web of sophistical reasoning.

Or again, it is conceivable on this supposition that folly joined with
Imperfect Self-Control may turn out, in a given case, goodness: for by reason
of his imperfection of self-control a man acts in a way which contradicts his
notions; now his notion is that what is really good is bad and ought not to be
done; and so he will eventually do what is good and not what is bad.

Again, on the same supposition, the man who acting on conviction pursues and
chooses things because they are pleasant must be thought a better man than he
who does so not by reason of a quasi-rational conviction but of Imperfect
Self-Control: because he is more open to cure by reason of the possibility of
his receiving a contrary conviction. But to the man of Imperfect Self-Control
would apply the proverb, “when water chokes, what should a man drink
then?” for had he never been convinced at all in respect of what he
does,^[3]
then by a conviction in a contrary direction he might have stopped in his
course; but now though he has had convictions he notwithstanding acts against
them.

Again, if any and every thing is the object-matter of Imperfect and Perfect
Self-Control, who is the man of Imperfect Self-Control simply? because no one
unites all cases of it, and we commonly say that some men are so simply, not
adding any particular thing in which they are so.

Well, the difficulties raised are pretty near such as I have described them,
and of these theories we must remove some and leave others as established;
because the solving of a difficulty is a positive act of establishing something
as true.

Chapter III.

Now we must examine first whether men of Imperfect Self-Control act with a
knowledge of what is right or not: next, if with such knowledge, in what sense;
and next what are we to assume is the object-matter of the man of Imperfect
Self-Control, and of the man of Self-Control; I mean, whether pleasure and pain
of all kinds or certain definite ones; and as to Self-Control and Endurance,
whether these are designations of the same character or different. And in like
manner we must go into all questions which are connected with the present.

But the real starting point of the enquiry is, whether the two characters of
Self-Control and Imperfect Self-Control are distinguished by their
object-matter, or their respective relations to it. I mean, whether the man of
Imperfect Self-Control is such simply by virtue of having such and such
object-matter; or not, but by virtue of his being related to it in such and
such a way, or by virtue of both: next, whether Self-Control and Imperfect
Self-Control are unlimited in their object-matter: because he who is designated
without any addition a man of Imperfect Self-Control is not unlimited in his
object-matter, but has exactly the same as the man who has lost all
Self-Control: nor is he so designated because of his relation to this
object-matter merely (for then his character would be identical with that just
mentioned, loss of all Self-Control), but because of his relation to it being
such and such. For the man who has lost all Self-Control is led on with
deliberate moral choice, holding that it is his line to pursue pleasure as it
rises: while the man of Imperfect Self-Control does not think that he ought to
pursue it, but does pursue it all the same.

Now as to the notion that it is True Opinion and not Knowledge in contravention
of which men fail in Self-Control, it makes no difference to the point in
question, because some of those who hold Opinions have no doubt about them but
suppose themselves to have accurate Knowledge; if then it is urged that men
holding Opinions will be more likely than men who have Knowledge to act in
contravention of their conceptions, as having but a moderate belief in them; we
reply, Knowledge will not differ in this respect from Opinion: because some men
believe their own Opinions no less firmly than others do their positive
Knowledge: Heraclitus is a case in point.

Rather the following is the account of it: the term knowing has two
senses; both the man who does not use his Knowledge, and he who does, are said
to know: there will be a difference between a man’s acting
wrongly, who though possessed of Knowledge does not call it into operation, and
his doing so who has it and actually exercises it: the latter is a strange
case, but the mere having, if not exercising, presents no anomaly.

Again, as there are two kinds of propositions affecting
action,^[4]
universal and particular, there is no reason why a man may not act against his
Knowledge, having both propositions in his mind, using the universal but not
the particular, for the particulars are the objects of moral action.

There is a difference also in universal
propositions;^[5]
a universal proposition may relate partly to a man’s self and partly to
the thing in question: take the following for instance; “dry food is good
for every man,” this may have the two minor premisses, “this is a
man,” and “so and so is dry food;” but whether a given
substance is so and so a man either has not the Knowledge or does not exert it.
According to these different senses there will be an immense difference, so
that for a man to know in the one sense, and yet act wrongly, would be
nothing strange, but in any of the other senses it would be a matter for
wonder.

Again, men may have Knowledge in a way different from any of those which have
been now stated: for we constantly see a man’s state so differing by
having and not using Knowledge, that he has it in a sense and also has not;
when a man is asleep, for instance, or mad, or drunk: well, men under the
actual operation of passion are in exactly similar conditions; for anger, lust,
and some other such-like things, manifestly make changes even in the body, and
in some they even cause madness; it is plain then that we must say the men of
Imperfect Self-Control are in a state similar to these.

And their saying what embodies Knowledge is no proof of their actually then
exercising it, because they who are under the operation of these passions
repeat demonstrations; or verses of
Empedocles,^[6]
just as children, when first learning, string words together, but as yet know
nothing of their meaning, because they must grow into it, and this is a process
requiring time: so that we must suppose these men who fail in Self-Control to
say these moral sayings just as actors do.

Furthermore, a man may look at the account of the phænomenon in the following
way, from an examination of the actual working of the mind: All action may be
analysed into a syllogism, in which the one premiss is an universal maxim and
the other concerns particulars of which Sense [moral or physical, as the case
may be] is cognisant: now when one results from these two, it follows
necessarily that, as far as theory goes the mind must assert the conclusion,
and in practical propositions the man must act accordingly.

For instance, let the universal be, “All that is sweet should be
tasted,” the particular, “This is sweet;” it follows
necessarily that he who is able and is not hindered should not only draw, but
put in practice, the conclusion “This is to be tasted.” When then
there is in the mind one universal proposition forbidding to taste, and the
other “All that is sweet is pleasant” with its minor “This is
sweet” (which is the one that really works), and desire happens to be in
the man, the first universal bids him avoid this but the desire leads him on to
taste; for it has the power of moving the various organs: and so it results
that he fails in Self-Control, in a certain sense under the influence of Reason
and Opinion not contrary in itself to Reason but only accidentally so; because
it is the desire that is contrary to Right Reason, but not the
Opinion:^[7]
and so for this reason brutes are not accounted of Imperfect Self-Control,
because they have no power of conceiving universals but only of receiving and
retaining particular impressions.

As to the manner in which the ignorance is removed and the man of Imperfect
Self-Control recovers his Knowledge, the account is the same as with respect to
him who is drunk or asleep, and is not peculiar to this affection, so
physiologists^[8]
are the right people to apply to. But whereas the minor premiss of every
practical syllogism is an opinion on matter cognisable by Sense and determines
the actions; he who is under the influence of passion either has not this, or
so has it that his having does not amount to knowing but merely saying,
as a man when drunk might repeat Empedocles’ verses; and because the
minor term^[9]
is neither universal, nor is thought to have the power of producing Knowledge
in like manner as the universal term: and so the result which Socrates was
seeking comes out, that is to say, the affection does not take place in the
presence of that which is thought to be specially and properly Knowledge, nor
is this dragged about by reason of the affection, but in the presence of that
Knowledge which is conveyed by Sense.

Let this account then be accepted of the question respecting the failure in
Self-Control, whether it is with Knowledge, and the manner in which such
failure is possible or not, though a man possesses Knowledge.

Chapter IV.

The next question to be discussed is whether there is a character to be
designated by the term “of Imperfect Self-Control” simply, or
whether all who are so are to be accounted such, in respect of some particular
thing; and, if there is such a character, what is his object-matter.

Now that pleasures and pains are the object-matter of men of Self-Control and
of Endurance, and also of men of Imperfect Self-Control and Softness, is plain.

Further, things which produce pleasure are either necessary, or objects of
choice in themselves but yet admitting of excess. All bodily things which
produce pleasure are necessary; and I call such those which relate to food and
other grosser appetities, in short such bodily things as we assumed were the
Object-matter of absence of Self-Control and of Perfected Self-Mastery.

The other class of objects are not necessary, but objects of choice in
themselves: I mean, for instance, victory, honour, wealth, and such-like good
or pleasant things. And those who are excessive in their liking for such things
contrary to the principle of Right Reason which is in their own breasts we do
not designate men of Imperfect Self-Control simply, but with the addition of
the thing wherein, as in respect of money, or gain, or honour, or anger, and
not simply; because we consider them as different characters and only having
that title in right of a kind of resemblance (as when we add to a man’s
name “conqueror in the Olympic games” the account of him as Man
differs but little from the account of him as the Man who conquered in the
Olympic games, but still it is different). And a proof of the real difference
between these so designated with an addition and those simply so called is
this, that Imperfect Self-Control is blamed, not as an error merely but also as
being a vice, either wholly or partially; but none of these other cases is so
blamed.

But of those who have for their object-matter the bodily enjoyments, which we
say are also the object-matter of the man of Perfected Self-Mastery and the man
who has lost all Self-Control, he that pursues excessive pleasures and too much
avoids^[10]
things which are painful (as hunger and thirst, heat and cold, and everything
connected with touch and taste), not from moral choice but in spite of his
moral choice and intellectual conviction, is termed “a man of Imperfect
Self-Control,” not with the addition of any particular object-matter as
we do in respect of want of control of anger but simply.

And a proof that the term is thus applied is that the kindred term
“Soft” is used in respect of these enjoyments but not in respect of
any of those others. And for this reason we put into the same rank the man of
Imperfect Self-Control, the man who has lost it entirely, the man who has it,
and the man of Perfected Self-Mastery; but not any of those other characters,
because the former have for their object-matter the same pleasures and pains:
but though they have the same object-matter, they are not related to it in the
same way, but two of them act upon moral choice, two without it. And so we
should say that man is more entirely given up to his passions who pursues
excessive pleasures, and avoids moderate pains, being either not at all, or at
least but little, urged by desire, than the man who does so because his desire
is very strong: because we think what would the former be likely to do if he
had the additional stimulus of youthful lust and violent pain consequent on the
want of those pleasures which we have denominated necessary?

Well then, since of desires and pleasures there are some which are in kind
honourable and good (because things pleasant are divisible, as we said before,
into such as are naturally objects of choice, such as are naturally objects of
avoidance, and such as are in themselves indifferent, money, gain, honour,
victory, for instance); in respect of all such and those that are indifferent,
men are blamed not merely^[11]
for being affected by or desiring or liking them, but for exceeding in any way
in these feelings.

And so they are blamed, whosoever in spite of Reason are mastered by, that is
pursue, any object, though in its nature noble and good; they, for instance,
who are more earnest than they should be respecting honour, or their children
or parents; not but what these are good objects and men are praised for being
earnest about them: but still they admit of excess; for instance, if any one,
as Niobe did, should fight even against the gods, or feel towards his father as
Satyrus, who got therefrom the nickname of
φιλοπάτωρ, because he was thought
to be very foolish.

Now depravity there is none in regard of these things, for the reason assigned
above, that each of them in itself is a thing naturally choice-worthy, yet the
excesses in respect of them are wrong and matter for blame: and similarly there
is no Imperfect Self-Control in respect of these things; that being not merely
a thing that should be avoided but blameworthy.

But because of the resemblance of the affection to the Imperfection of
Self-Control the term is used with the addition in each case of the particular
object-matter, just as men call a man a bad physician, or bad actor, whom they
would not think of calling simply bad. As then in these cases we do not apply
the term simply because each of the states is not a vice, but only like a vice
in the way of analogy,^[12]
so it is plain that in respect of Imperfect Self-Control and Self-Control we
must limit the names to those states which have the same object-matter as
Perfected Self-Mastery and utter loss of Self-Control, and that we do apply it
to the case of anger only in the way of resemblance: for which reason, with an
addition, we designate a man of Imperfect Self-Control in respect of anger, as
of honour or of gain.

Chapter V.

As there are some things naturally pleasant, and of these two kinds; those,
namely, which are pleasant generally, and those which are so relatively to
particular kinds of animals and men; so there are others which are not
naturally pleasant but which come to be so in consequence either of maimings,
or custom, or depraved natural tastes: and one may observe moral states similar
to those we have been speaking of, having respectively these classes of things
for their object-matter.

I mean the Brutish, as in the case of the female who, they say, would rip up
women with child and eat the foetus; or the tastes which are found among the
savage tribes bordering on the Pontus, some liking raw flesh, and some being
cannibals, and some lending one another their children to make feasts of; or
what is said of Phalaris. These are instances of Brutish states, caused in some
by disease or madness; take, for instance, the man who sacrificed and ate his
mother, or him who devoured the liver of his fellow-servant. Instances again of
those caused by disease or by custom, would be, plucking out of hair, or eating
one’s nails, or eating coals and earth.^[13]
Now wherever nature is really the cause no one would think of calling men of
Imperfect Self-Control, … nor, in like manner, such as are in a diseased
state through custom.

The having any of these inclinations is something foreign to what is
denominated Vice, just as Brutishness is: and when a man has them his mastering
them is not properly Self-Control, nor his being mastered by them Imperfection
of Self-Control in the proper sense, but only in the way of resemblance; just
as we may say a man of ungovernable wrath fails of Self-Control in respect of
anger but not simply fails of Self-Control. For all excessive folly, cowardice,
absence of Self-Control, or irritability, are either Brutish or morbid. The
man, for instance, who is naturally afraid of all things, even if a mouse
should stir, is cowardly after a Brutish sort; there was a man again who, by
reason of disease, was afraid of a cat: and of the fools, they who are
naturally destitute of Reason and live only by Sense are Brutish, as are some
tribes of the far-off barbarians, while others who are so by reason of
diseases, epileptic or frantic, are in morbid states.

So then, of these inclinations, a man may sometimes merely have one without
yielding to it: I mean, suppose that Phalaris had restrained his unnatural
desire to eat a child: or he may both have and yield to it. As then Vice when
such as belongs to human nature is called Vice simply, while the other is so
called with the addition of “brutish” or “morbid,” but
not simply Vice, so manifestly there is Brutish and Morbid Imperfection of
Self-Control, but that alone is entitled to the name without any qualification
which is of the nature of utter absence of Self-Control, as it is found in Man.

Chapter VI.

It is plain then that the object-matter of Imperfect Self-Control and
Self-Control is restricted to the same as that of utter absence of Self-Control
and that of Perfected Self-Mastery, and that the rest is the object-matter of a
different species so named metaphorically and not simply: we will now examine
the position, “that Imperfect Self-Control in respect of Anger is less
disgraceful than that in respect of Lusts.”

In the first place, it seems that Anger does in a way listen to Reason but
mishears it; as quick servants who run out before they have heard the whole of
what is said and then mistake the order; dogs, again, bark at the slightest
stir, before they have seen whether it be friend or foe; just so Anger, by
reason of its natural heat and quickness, listening to Reason, but without
having heard the command of Reason, rushes to its revenge. That is to say,
Reason or some impression on the mind shows there is insolence or
contempt^[14]
in the offender, and then Anger, reasoning as it were that one ought to fight
against what is such, fires up immediately: whereas Lust, if Reason or Sense,
as the case may be, merely says a thing is sweet, rushes to the enjoyment of
it: and so Anger follows Reason in a manner, but Lust does not and is therefore
more disgraceful: because he that cannot control his anger yields in a manner
to Reason, but the other to his Lust and not to Reason at all.

Again, a man is more excusable for following such desires as are natural, just
as he is for following such Lusts as are common to all and to that degree in
which they are common. Now Anger and irritability are more natural than Lusts
when in excess and for objects not necessary. (This was the ground of the
defence the man made who beat his father, “My father,” he said,
“used to beat his, and his father his again, and this little fellow
here,” pointing to his child, “will beat me when he is grown a man:
it runs in the family.” And the father, as he was being dragged along,
bid his son leave off beating him at the door, because he had himself been used
to drag his father so far and no farther.)

Again, characters are less unjust in proportion as they involve less
insidiousness. Now the Angry man is not insidious, nor is Anger, but quite
open: but Lust is: as they say of Venus,

“Cyprus-born Goddess, weaver of deceits”

Or Homer of the girdle called the Cestus,

“Persuasiveness cheating e’en the subtlest mind.”

And so since this kind of Imperfect Self-Control is more unjust, it is also
more disgraceful than that in respect of Anger, and is simply Imperfect
Self-Control, and Vice in a certain sense.

Again, no man feels pain in being insolent, but every one who acts through
Anger does act with pain; and he who acts insolently does it with pleasure. If
then those things are most unjust with which we have most right to be angry,
then Imperfect Self-Control, arising from Lust, is more so than that arising
from Anger: because in Anger there is no
insolence.^[15]

Well then, it is clear that Imperfect Self-Control in respect of Lusts is more
disgraceful than that in respect of Anger, and that the object-matter of
Self-Control, and the Imperfection of it, are bodily Lusts and pleasures; but
of these last we must take into account the differences; for, as was said at
the commencement, some are proper to the human race and natural both in kind
and degree, others Brutish, and others caused by maimings and diseases.

Now the first of these only are the object-matter of Perfected Self-Mastery and
utter absence of Self-Control; and therefore we never attribute either of these
states to Brutes (except metaphorically, and whenever any one kind of animal
differs entirely from another in insolence, mischievousness, or voracity),
because they have not moral choice or process of deliberation, but are quite
different from that kind of creature just as are madmen from other men.

Brutishness is not so low in the scale as Vice, yet it is to be regarded with
more fear: because it is not that the highest principle has been corrupted, as
in the human creature, but the subject has it not at all.

It is much the same, therefore, as if one should compare an inanimate with an
animate being, which were the worse: for the badness of that which has no
principle of origination is always less harmful; now Intellect is a principle
of origination. A similar case would be the comparing injustice and an unjust
man together: for in different ways each is the worst: a bad man would produce
ten thousand times as much harm as a bad brute.

Chapter VII.

Now with respect to the pleasures and pains which come to a man through Touch
and Taste, and the desiring or avoiding such (which we determined before to
constitute the object-matter of the states of utter absence of Self-Control and
Perfected Self-Mastery), one may be so disposed as to yield to temptations to
which most men would be superior, or to be superior to those to which most men
would yield: in respect of pleasures, these characters will be respectively the
man of Imperfect Self-Control, and the man of Self-Control; and, in respect of
pains, the man of Softness and the man of Endurance: but the moral state of
most men is something between the two, even though they lean somewhat to the
worse characters.

Again, since of the pleasures indicated some are necessary and some are not,
others are so to a certain degree but not the excess or defect of them, and
similarly also of Lusts and pains, the man who pursues the excess of pleasant
things, or such as are in themselves excess, or from moral choice, for their
own sake, and not for anything else which is to result from them, is a man
utterly void of Self-Control: for he must be incapable of remorse, and so
incurable, because he that has not remorse is incurable. (He that has too
little love of pleasure is the opposite character, and the man of Perfected
Self-Mastery the mean character.) He is of a similar character who avoids the
bodily pains, not because he cannot, but because he chooses not
to, withstand them.

But of the characters who go wrong without choosing so to do, the one is
led on by reason of pleasure, the other because he avoids the pain it would
cost him to deny his lust; and so they are different the one from the other.
Now every one would pronounce a man worse for doing something base without any
impulse of desire, or with a very slight one, than for doing the same from the
impulse of a very strong desire; for striking a man when not angry than if he
did so in wrath: because one naturally says, “What would he have done had
he been under the influence of passion?” (and on this ground, by the bye,
the man utterly void of Self-Control is worse than he who has it imperfectly).
However, of the two characters which have been mentioned,^[16]
[as included in that of utter absence of Self-Control], the one is rather
Softness, the other properly the man of no Self-Control.

Furthermore, to the character of Imperfect Self-Control is opposed that of
Self-Control, and to that of Softness that of Endurance: because Endurance
consists in continued resistance but Self-Control in actual mastery, and
continued resistance and actual mastery are as different as not being conquered
is from conquering; and so Self-Control is more choice-worthy than Endurance.

Again, he who fails when exposed to those temptations against which the common
run of men hold out, and are well able to do so, is Soft and Luxurious (Luxury
being a kind of Softness): the kind of man, I mean, to let his robe drag in the
dirt to avoid the trouble of lifting it, and who, aping the sick man, does not
however suppose himself wretched though he is like a wretched man. So it is too
with respect to Self-Control and the Imperfection of it: if a man yields to
pleasures or pains which are violent and excessive it is no matter for wonder,
but rather for allowance if he made what resistance he could (instances are,
Philoctetes in Theodectes’ drama when wounded by the viper; or Cercyon in
the Alope of Carcinus, or men who in trying to suppress laughter burst into a
loud continuous fit of it, as happened, you remember, to Xenophantus), but it
is a matter for wonder when a man yields to and cannot contend against those
pleasures or pains which the common herd are able to resist; always supposing
his failure not to be owing to natural constitution or disease, I mean, as the
Scythian kings are constitutionally Soft, or the natural difference between the
sexes.

Again, the man who is a slave to amusement is commonly thought to be destitute
of Self-Control, but he really is Soft; because amusement is an act of
relaxing, being an act of resting, and the character in question is one of
those who exceed due bounds in respect of this.

Moreover of Imperfect Self-Control there are two forms, Precipitancy and
Weakness: those who have it in the latter form though they have made
resolutions do not abide by them by reason of passion; the others are led by
passion because they have never formed any resolutions at all: while there are
some who, like those who by tickling themselves beforehand get rid of
ticklishness, having felt and seen beforehand the approach of temptation, and
roused up themselves and their resolution, yield not to passion; whether the
temptation be somewhat pleasant or somewhat painful. The Precipitate form of
Imperfect Self-Control they are most liable to who are constitutionally of a
sharp or melancholy temperament: because the one by reason of the swiftness,
the other by reason of the violence, of their passions, do not wait for Reason,
because they are disposed to follow whatever notion is impressed upon their
minds.

Again, the man utterly destitute of Self-Control, as was observed before, is
not given to remorse: for it is part of his character that he abides by his
moral choice: but the man of Imperfect Self-Control is almost made up of
remorse: and so the case is not as we determined it before, but the former is
incurable and the latter may be cured: for depravity is like chronic diseases,
dropsy and consumption for instance, but Imperfect Self-Control is like acute
disorders: the former being a continuous evil, the latter not so. And, in fact,
Imperfect Self-Control and Confirmed Vice are different in kind: the latter
being imperceptible to its victim, the former not
so.^[17]

But, of the different forms of Imperfect Self-Control, those are better who are
carried off their feet by a sudden access of temptation than they who have
Reason but do not abide by it; these last being overcome by passion less in
degree, and not wholly without premeditation as are the others: for the man of
Imperfect Self-Control is like those who are soon intoxicated and by little
wine and less than the common run of men.

Well then, that Imperfection of Self-Control is not Confirmed Viciousness is
plain: and yet perhaps it is such in a way, because in one sense it is contrary
to moral choice and in another the result of it:^[18]
at all events, in respect of the actions, the case is much like what Demodocus
said of the Miletians. “The people of Miletus are not fools, but they do
just the kind of things that fools do;” and so they of Imperfect
Self-Control are not unjust, but they do unjust acts.

But to resume. Since the man of Imperfect Self-Control is of such a character
as to follow bodily pleasures in excess and in defiance of Right Reason,
without acting on any deliberate conviction, whereas the man utterly destitute
of Self-Control does act upon a conviction which rests on his natural
inclination to follow after these pleasures; the former may be easily persuaded
to a different course, but the latter not: for Virtue and Vice respectively
preserve and corrupt the moral principle; now the motive is the principle or
starting point in moral actions, just as axioms and postulates are in
mathematics: and neither in morals nor mathematics is it Reason which is apt to
teach the principle; but Excellence, either natural or acquired by custom, in
holding right notions with respect to the principle. He who does this in morals
is the man of Perfected Self-Mastery, and the contrary character is the man
utterly destitute of Self-Control.

Again, there is a character liable to be taken off his feet in defiance of
Right Reason because of passion; whom passion so far masters as to prevent his
acting in accordance with Right Reason, but not so far as to make him be
convinced that it is his proper line to follow after such pleasures without
limit: this character is the man of Imperfect Self- Control, better than he who
is utterly destitute of it, and not a bad man simply and without qualification:
because in him the highest and best part, i.e. principle, is preserved: and
there is another character opposed to him who is apt to abide by his
resolutions, and not to depart from them; at all events, not at the instigation
of passion.

It is evident then from all this, that Self-Control is a good state and the
Imperfection of it a bad one.

Chapter VIII.

Next comes the question, whether a man is a man of Self-Control for abiding by
his conclusions and moral choice be they of what kind they may, or only by the
right one; or again, a man of Imperfect Self-Control for not abiding by his
conclusions and moral choice be they of whatever kind; or, to put the case we
did before, is he such for not abiding by false conclusions and wrong moral
choice?

Is not this the truth, that incidentally it is by conclusions and moral
choice of any kind that the one character abides and the other does not, but
per se true conclusions and right moral choice:^[19]
to explain what is meant by incidentally, and per se; suppose a man
chooses or pursues this thing for the sake of that, he is said to pursue and
choose that per se, but this only incidentally. For the term per
se we use commonly the word “simply,” and so, in a way, it is
opinion of any kind soever by which the two characters respectively abide or
not, but he is “simply” entitled to the designations who abides or
not by the true opinion.

There are also people, who have a trick of abiding by their, own opinions, who
are commonly called Positive, as they who are hard to be persuaded, and whose
convictions are not easily changed: now these people bear some resemblance to
the character of Self-Control, just as the prodigal to the liberal or the rash
man to the brave, but they are different in many points. The man of
Self-Control does not change by reason of passion and lust, yet when occasion
so requires he will be easy of persuasion: but the Positive man changes not at
the call of Reason, though many of this class take up certain desires and are
led by their pleasures. Among the class of Positive are the Opinionated, the
Ignorant, and the Bearish: the first, from the motives of pleasure and pain: I
mean, they have the pleasurable feeling of a kind of victory in not having
their convictions changed, and they are pained when their decrees, so to speak,
are reversed: so that, in fact, they rather resemble the man of Imperfect
Self-Control than the man of Self-Control.

Again, there are some who depart from their resolutions not by reason of any
Imperfection of Self-Control; take, for instance, Neoptolemus in the
Philoctetes of Sophocles. Here certainly pleasure was the motive of his
departure from his resolution, but then it was one of a noble sort: for to be
truthful was noble in his eyes and he had been persuaded by Ulysses to lie.

So it is not every one who acts from the motive of pleasure who is utterly
destitute of Self-Control or base or of Imperfect Self-Control, only he who
acts from the impulse of a base pleasure.

Chapter IX.

Moreover as there is a character who takes less pleasure than he ought in
bodily enjoyments, and he also fails to abide by the conclusion of his
Reason,^[20]
the man of Self-Control is the mean between him and the man of Imperfect
Self-Control: that is to say, the latter fails to abide by them because of
somewhat too much, the former because of somewhat too little; while the man of
Self-Control abides by them, and never changes by reason of anything else than
such conclusions.

Now of course since Self-Control is good both the contrary States must be bad,
as indeed they plainly are: but because the one of them is seen in few persons,
and but rarely in them, Self-Control comes to be viewed as if opposed only to
the Imperfection of it, just as Perfected Self-Mastery is thought to be opposed
only to utter want of Self-Control.

Again, as many terms are used in the way of similitude, so people have come to
talk of the Self-Control of the man of Perfected Self-Mastery in the way of
similitude: for the man of Self-Control and the man of Perfected Self-Mastery
have this in common, that they do nothing against Right Reason on the impulse
of bodily pleasures, but then the former has bad desires, the latter not; and
the latter is so constituted as not even to feel pleasure contrary to his
Reason, the former feels but does not yield to it.

Like again are the man of Imperfect Self-Control and he who is utterly
destitute of it, though in reality distinct: both follow bodily pleasures, but
the latter under a notion that it is the proper line for him to take, his
former without any such notion.

And it is not possible for the same man to be at once a man of Practical Wisdom
and of Imperfect Self-Control: because the character of Practical Wisdom
includes, as we showed before, goodness of moral character. And again, it is
not knowledge merely, but aptitude for action, which constitutes Practical
Wisdom: and of this aptitude the man of Imperfect Self-Control is destitute.
But there is no reason why the Clever man should not be of Imperfect
Self-Control: and the reason why some men are occasionally thought to be men of
Practical Wisdom, and yet of Imperfect Self-Control, is this, that Cleverness
differs from Practical Wisdom in the way I stated in a former book, and is very
near it so far as the intellectual element is concerned but differs in respect
of the moral choice.

Nor is the man of Imperfect Self-Control like the man who both has and calls
into exercise his knowledge, but like the man who, having it, is overpowered by
sleep or wine. Again, he acts voluntarily (because he knows, in a certain
sense, what he does and the result of it), but he is not a confirmed bad man,
for his moral choice is good, so he is at all events only half bad. Nor is he
unjust, because he does not act with deliberate intent: for of the two chief
forms of the character, the one is not apt to abide by his deliberate
resolutions, and the other, the man of constitutional strength of passion, is
not apt to deliberate at all.

So in fact the man of Imperfect Self-Control is like a community which makes
all proper enactments, and has admirable laws, only does not act on them,
verifying the scoff of Anaxandrides,

“That State did will it, which cares nought for laws;”

whereas the bad man is like one which acts upon its laws, but then
unfortunately they are bad ones.

Imperfection of Self-Control and Self-Control, after all, are above the average
state of men; because he of the latter character is more true to his Reason,
and the former less so, than is in the power of most men.

Again, of the two forms of Imperfect Self-Control that is more easily cured
which they have who are constitutionally of strong passions, than that of those
who form resolutions and break them; and they that are so through habituation
than they that are so naturally; since of course custom is easier to change
than nature, because the very resemblance of custom to nature is what
constitutes the difficulty of changing it; as Evenus says,

“Practice, I say, my friend, doth long endure,
And at the last is even very nature.”

We have now said then what Self-Control is, what Imperfection of Self-Control,
what Endurance, and what Softness, and how these states are mutually related.

APPENDIX.
Book VII. Chapters 12 to 15. (Bekker.)

To consider the subject of Pleasure and Pain falls within the province of the
Social-Science Philosopher, since he it is who has to fix the Master-End which
is to guide us in dominating any object absolutely evil or good.

But we may say more: an enquiry into their nature is absolutely necessary.
First, because we maintained that Moral Virtue and Moral Vice are both
concerned with Pains and Pleasures: next, because the greater part of mankind
assert that Happiness must include Pleasure (which by the way accounts for the
word they use, μακάριος;
χαίρειν being the root of that word).

Now some hold that no one Pleasure is good, either in itself or as a matter of
result, because Good and Pleasure are not identical. Others that some Pleasures
are good but the greater number bad. There is yet a third view; granting that
every Pleasure is good, still the Chief Good cannot possibly be Pleasure.

In support of the first opinion (that Pleasure is utterly not-good) it is urged
that:

1. Every Pleasure is a sensible process towards a complete state; but no such
process is akin to the end to be attained: e.g. no process of building
to the completed house.

2. The man of Perfected Self-Mastery avoids Pleasures.

3. The man of Practical Wisdom aims at avoiding Pain, not at attaining
Pleasure.

4. Pleasures are an impediment to thought, and the more so the more keenly they
are felt. An obvious instance will readily occur.

5. Pleasure cannot be referred to any Art: and yet every good is the result of
some Art.

6. Children and brutes pursue Pleasures.

In support of the second (that not all Pleasures are good), That there are some
base and matter of reproach, and some even hurtful: because some things that
are pleasant produce disease.

In support of the third (that Pleasure is not the Chief Good), That it is not
an End but a process towards creating an End.

This is, I think, a fair account of current views on the matter.

But that the reasons alleged do not prove it either to be not-good or the Chief
Good is plain from the following considerations.

First. Good being either absolute or relative, of course the natures and states
embodying it will be so too; therefore also the movements and the processes of
creation. So, of those which are thought to be bad some will be bad absolutely,
but relatively not bad, perhaps even choice-worthy; some not even choice-worthy
relatively to any particular person, only at certain times or for a short time
but not in themselves choice-worthy.

Others again are not even Pleasures at all though they produce that impression
on the mind: all such I mean as imply pain and whose purpose is cure; those of
sick people, for instance.

Next, since Good may be either an active working or a state, those
[κινήσεις or
γενέσεις] which tend to place us in
our natural state are pleasant incidentally because of that tendency: but the
active working is really in the desires excited in the remaining (sound) part
of our state or nature: for there are Pleasures which have no connection with
pain or desire: the acts of contemplative intellect, for instance, in which
case there is no deficiency in the nature or state of him who performs the
acts.

A proof of this is that the same pleasant thing does not produce the sensation
of Pleasure when the natural state is being filled up or completed as when it
is already in its normal condition: in this latter case what give the sensation
are things pleasant per se, in the former even those things which are
contrary. I mean, you find people taking pleasure in sharp or bitter things of
which no one is naturally or in itself pleasant; of course not therefore the
Pleasures arising from them, because it is obvious that as is the
classification of pleasant things such must be that of the Pleasures arising
from them.

Next, it does not follow that there must be something else better than any
given pleasure because (as some say) the End must be better than the process
which creates it. For it is not true that all Pleasures are processes or even
attended by any process, but (some are) active workings or even Ends: in fact
they result not from our coming to be something but from our using our powers.
Again, it is not true that the End is, in every case, distinct from the
process: it is true only in the case of such processes as conduce to the
perfecting of the natural state.

For which reason it is wrong to say that Pleasure is “a sensible process
of production.” For “process etc.” should be substituted
“active working of the natural state,” for “sensible”
“unimpeded.” The reason of its being thought to be a “process
etc.” is that it is good in the highest sense: people confusing
“active working” and “process,” whereas they really are
distinct.

Next, as to the argument that there are bad Pleasures because some things which
are pleasant are also hurtful to health, it is the same as saying that some
healthful things are bad for “business.” In this sense, of course,
both may be said to be bad, but then this does not make them out to be bad
simpliciter: the exercise of the pure Intellect sometimes hurts a
man’s health: but what hinders Practical Wisdom or any state whatever is,
not the Pleasure peculiar to, but some Pleasure foreign to it: the Pleasures
arising from the exercise of the pure Intellect or from learning only promote
each.

Next. “No Pleasure is the work of any Art.” What else would you
expect? No active working is the work of any Art, only the faculty of so
working. Still the perfumer’s Art or the cook’s are thought to
belong to Pleasure.

Next. “The man of Perfected Self-Mastery avoids Pleasures.”
“The man of Practical Wisdom aims at escaping Pain rather than at
attaining Pleasure.”

“Children and brutes pursue Pleasures.”

One answer will do for all.

We have already said in what sense all Pleasures are good per se and in
what sense not all are good: it is the latter class that brutes and children
pursue, such as are accompanied by desire and pain, that is the bodily
Pleasures (which answer to this description) and the excesses of them: in
short, those in respect of which the man utterly destitute of Self-Control is
thus utterly destitute. And it is the absence of the pain arising from these
Pleasures that the man of Practical Wisdom aims at. It follows that these
Pleasures are what the man of Perfected Self-Mastery avoids: for obviously he
has Pleasures peculiarly his own.

Then again, it is allowed that Pain is an evil and a thing to be avoided partly
as bad per se, partly as being a hindrance in some particular way. Now
the contrary of that which is to be avoided, quâ it is to be avoided,
i.e. evil, is good. Pleasure then must be a good.

The attempted answer of Speusippus, “that Pleasure may be opposed and yet
not contrary to Pain, just as the greater portion of any magnitude is contrary
to the less but only opposed to the exact half,” will not hold: for he
cannot say that Pleasure is identical with evil of any kind.

Again. Granting that some Pleasures are low, there is no reason why some
particular Pleasure may not be very good, just as some particular Science may
be although there are some which are low.

Perhaps it even follows, since each state may have active working unimpeded,
whether the active workings of all be Happiness or that of some one of them,
that this active working, if it be unimpeded, must be choice-worthy: now
Pleasure is exactly this. So that the Chief Good may be Pleasure of some kind,
though most Pleasures be (let us assume) low per se.

And for this reason all men think the happy life is pleasant, and interweave
Pleasure with Happiness. Reasonably enough: because Happiness is perfect, but
no impeded active working is perfect; and therefore the happy man needs as an
addition the goods of the body and the goods external and fortune that in these
points he may not be fettered. As for those who say that he who is being
tortured on the wheel, or falls into great misfortunes is happy provided only
he be good, they talk nonsense, whether they mean to do so or not. On the other
hand, because fortune is needed as an addition, some hold good fortune to be
identical with Happiness: which it is not, for even this in excess is a
hindrance, and perhaps then has no right to be called good fortune since it is
good only in so far as it contributes to Happiness.

The fact that all animals, brute and human alike, pursue Pleasure, is some
presumption of its being in a sense the Chief Good;

(“There must be something in what most folks say,”) only as one and
the same nature or state neither is nor is thought to be the best, so neither
do all pursue the same Pleasure, Pleasure nevertheless all do. Nay further,
what they pursue is, perhaps, not what they think nor what they would say they
pursue, but really one and the same: for in all there is some instinct above
themselves. But the bodily Pleasures have received the name exclusively,
because theirs is the most frequent form and that which is universally partaken
of; and so, because to many these alone are known they believe them to be the
only ones which exist.

It is plain too that, unless Pleasure and its active working be good, it will
not be true that the happy man’s life embodies Pleasure: for why will he
want it on the supposition that it is not good and that he can live even with
Pain? because, assuming that Pleasure is not good, then Pain is neither evil
nor good, and so why should he avoid it?

Besides, the life of the good man is not more pleasurable than any other unless
it be granted that his active workings are so too.

Some enquiry into the bodily Pleasures is also necessary for those who say that
some Pleasures, to be sure, are highly choice-worthy (the good ones to wit),
but not the bodily Pleasures; that is, those which are the object-matter of the
man utterly destitute of Self-Control.

If so, we ask, why are the contrary Pains bad? they cannot be (on their
assumption) because the contrary of bad is good.

May we not say that the necessary bodily Pleasures are good in the sense in
which that which is not-bad is good? or that they are good only up to a certain
point? because such states or movements as cannot have too much of the better
cannot have too much of Pleasure, but those which can of the former can also of
the latter. Now the bodily Pleasures do admit of excess: in fact the low bad
man is such because he pursues the excess of them instead of those which are
necessary (meat, drink, and the objects of other animal appetites do give
pleasure to all, but not in right manner or degree to all). But his relation to
Pain is exactly the contrary: it is not excessive Pain, but Pain at all, that
he avoids [which makes him to be in this way too a bad low man], because only
in the case of him who pursues excessive Pleasure is Pain contrary to excessive
Pleasure.

It is not enough however merely to state the truth, we should also show how the
false view arises; because this strengthens conviction. I mean, when we have
given a probable reason why that impresses people as true which really is not
true, it gives them a stronger conviction of the truth. And so we must now
explain why the bodily Pleasures appear to people to be more choice-worthy than
any others.

The first obvious reason is, that bodily Pleasure drives out Pain; and because
Pain is felt in excess men pursue Pleasure in excess, i.e. generally
bodily Pleasure, under the notion of its being a remedy for that Pain. These
remedies, moreover, come to be violent ones; which is the very reason they are
pursued, since the impression they produce on the mind is owing to their being
looked at side by side with their contrary.

And, as has been said before, there are the two following reasons why bodily
Pleasure is thought to be not-good.

1. Some Pleasures of this class are actings of a low nature, whether congenital
as in brutes, or acquired by custom as in low bad men.

2. Others are in the nature of cures, cures that is of some deficiency; now of
course it is better to have [the healthy state] originally than that it should
accrue afterwards.

(But some Pleasures result when natural states are being perfected: these
therefore are good as a matter of result.)

Again, the very fact of their being violent causes them to be pursued by such
as can relish no others: such men in fact create violent thirsts for themselves
(if harmless ones then we find no fault, if harmful then it is bad and low)
because they have no other things to take pleasure in, and the neutral state is
distasteful to some people constitutionally; for toil of some kind is
inseparable from life, as physiologists testify, telling us that the acts of
seeing or hearing are painful, only that we are used to the pain and do not
find it out.

Similarly in youth the constant growth produces a state much like that of
vinous intoxication, and youth is pleasant. Again, men of the melancholic
temperament constantly need some remedial process (because the body, from its
temperament, is constantly being worried), and they are in a chronic state of
violent desire. But Pleasure drives out Pain; not only such Pleasure as is
directly contrary to Pain but even any Pleasure provided it be strong: and this
is how men come to be utterly destitute of Self-Mastery, i.e. low and
bad.

But those Pleasures which are unconnected with Pains do not admit of excess:
i.e. such as belong to objects which are naturally pleasant and not
merely as a matter of result: by the latter class I mean such as are remedial,
and the reason why these are thought to be pleasant is that the cure results
from the action in some way of that part of the constitution which remains
sound. By “pleasant naturally” I mean such as put into action a
nature which is pleasant.

The reason why no one and the same thing is invariably pleasant is that our
nature is, not simple, but complex, involving something different from itself
(so far as we are corruptible beings). Suppose then that one part of this
nature be doing something, this something is, to the other part, unnatural:
but, if there be an equilibrium of the two natures, then whatever is being done
is indifferent. It is obvious that if there be any whose nature is simple and
not complex, to such a being the same course of acting will always be the most
pleasurable.

For this reason it is that the Divinity feels Pleasure which is always one,
i.e. simple: not motion merely but also motionlessness acts, and
Pleasure resides rather in the absence than in the presence of motion.

The reason why the Poet’s dictum “change is of all things most
pleasant” is true, is “a baseness in our blood;” for as the
bad man is easily changeable, bad must be also the nature that craves change,
i.e. it is neither simple nor good.

We have now said our say about Self-Control and its opposite; and about
Pleasure and Pain. What each is, and how the one set is good the other bad. We
have yet to speak of Friendship.

BOOK VIII

Chapter I.

Next would seem properly to follow a dissertation on Friendship: because, in
the first place, it is either itself a virtue or connected with virtue; and
next it is a thing most necessary for life, since no one would choose to live
without friends though he should have all the other good things in the world:
and, in fact, men who are rich or possessed of authority and influence are
thought to have special need of friends: for where is the use of such
prosperity if there be taken away the doing of kindnesses of which friends are
the most usual and most commendable objects? Or how can it be kept or preserved
without friends? because the greater it is so much the more slippery and
hazardous: in poverty moreover and all other adversities men think friends to
be their only refuge.

Furthermore, Friendship helps the young to keep from error: the old, in respect
of attention and such deficiencies in action as their weakness makes them
liable to; and those who are in their prime, in respect of noble deeds
(“They two together going,” Homer says, you may remember),
because they are thus more able to devise plans and carry them out.

Again, it seems to be implanted in us by Nature: as, for instance, in the
parent towards the offspring and the offspring towards the parent (not merely
in the human species, but likewise in birds and most animals), and in those of
the same tribe towards one another, and specially in men of the same nation;
for which reason we commend those men who love their fellows: and one may see
in the course of travel how close of kin and how friendly man is to man.

Furthermore, Friendship seems to be the bond of Social Communities, and
legislators seem to be more anxious to secure it than Justice even. I mean,
Unanimity is somewhat like to Friendship, and this they certainly aim at and
specially drive out faction as being inimical.

Again, where people are in Friendship Justice is not
required;^[1]
but, on the other hand, though they are just they need Friendship in addition,
and that principle which is most truly just is thought to partake of the nature
of Friendship.

Lastly, not only is it a thing necessary but honourable likewise: since we
praise those who are fond of friends, and the having numerous friends is
thought a matter of credit to a man; some go so far as to hold, that
“good man” and “friend” are terms synonymous.

Chapter II.

Yet the disputed points respecting it are not few: some men lay down that it is
a kind of resemblance, and that men who are like one another are friends:
whence come the common sayings, “Like will to like,” “Birds
of a feather,” and so on. Others, on the contrary, say, that all such
come under the maxim, “Two of a trade never
agree.”^[2]

Again, some men push their enquiries on these points higher and reason
physically: as Euripides, who says,

“The earth by drought consumed doth love the rain,
And the great heaven, overcharged with rain,
Doth love to fall in showers upon the earth.”

Heraclitus, again, maintains, that “contrariety is expedient, and that
the best agreement arises from things differing, and that all things come into
being in the way of the principle of antagonism.”

Empedocles, among others, in direct opposition to these, affirms, that
“like aims at like.”

These physical questions we will take leave to omit, inasmuch as they are
foreign to the present enquiry; and we will examine such as are proper to man
and concern moral characters and feelings: as, for instance, “Does
Friendship arise among all without distinction, or is it impossible for bad men
to be friends?” and, “Is there but one species of Friendship, or
several?” for they who ground the opinion that there is but one on the
fact that Friendship admits of degrees hold that upon insufficient proof;
because things which are different in species admit likewise of degrees (on
this point we have spoken before).

Chapter III.

Our view will soon be cleared on these points when we have ascertained what is
properly the object-matter of Friendship: for it is thought that not everything
indiscriminately, but some peculiar matter alone, is the object of this
affection; that is to say, what is good, or pleasurable, or useful. Now it
would seem that that is useful through which accrues any good or pleasure, and
so the objects of Friendship, as absolute Ends, are the good and the
pleasurable.

A question here arises; whether it is good absolutely or that which is good to
the individuals, for which men feel Friendship (these two being sometimes
distinct): and similarly in respect of the pleasurable. It seems then that each
individual feels it towards that which is good to himself, and that
abstractedly it is the real good which is the object of Friendship, and to each
individual that which is good to each. It comes then to this; that each
individual feels Friendship not for what is but for that which
conveys to his mind the impression of being good to himself. But this
will make no real difference, because that which is truly the object of
Friendship will also convey this impression to the mind.

There are then three causes from which men feel Friendship: but the term is not
applied to the case of fondness for things inanimate because there is no
requital of the affection nor desire for the good of those objects: it
certainly savours of the ridiculous to say that a man fond of wine wishes well
to it: the only sense in which it is true being that he wishes it to be kept
safe and sound for his own use and benefit.^[3]
But to the friend they say one should wish all good for his sake. And when men
do thus wish good to another (he not reciprocating the feeling), people call
them Kindly; because Friendship they describe as being “Kindliness
between persons who reciprocate it.” But must they not add that the
feeling must be mutually known? for many men are kindly disposed towards those
whom they have never seen but whom they conceive to be amiable or useful: and
this notion amounts to the same thing as a real feeling between them.

Well, these are plainly Kindly-disposed towards one another: but how can one
call them friends while their mutual feelings are unknown to one another? to
complete the idea of Friendship, then, it is requisite that they have kindly
feelings towards one another, and wish one another good from one of the
aforementioned causes, and that these kindly feelings should be mutually known.

Chapter IV.

As the motives to Friendship differ in kind so do the respective feelings and
Friendships. The species then of Friendship are three, in number equal to the
objects of it, since in the line of each there may be “mutual affection
mutually known.”

Now they who have Friendship for one another desire one another’s good
according to the motive of their Friendship; accordingly they whose motive is
utility have no Friendship for one another really, but only in so far as some
good arises to them from one another.

And they whose motive is pleasure are in like case: I mean, they have
Friendship for men of easy pleasantry, not because they are of a given
character but because they are pleasant to themselves. So then they whose
motive to Friendship is utility love their friends for what is good to
themselves; they whose motive is pleasure do so for what is pleasurable to
themselves; that is to say, not in so far as the friend beloved is but
in so far as he is useful or pleasurable. These Friendships then are a matter
of result: since the object is not beloved in that he is the man he is but in
that he furnishes advantage or pleasure as the case may be.

Such Friendships are of course very liable to dissolution if the parties do not
continue alike: I mean, that the others cease to have any Friendship for them
when they are no longer pleasurable or useful. Now it is the nature of utility
not to be permanent but constantly varying: so, of course, when the motive
which made them friends is vanished, the Friendship likewise dissolves; since
it existed only relatively to those circumstances.

Friendship of this kind is thought to exist principally among the old (because
men at that time of life pursue not what is pleasurable but what is
profitable); and in such, of men in their prime and of the young, as are given
to the pursuit of profit. They that are such have no intimate intercourse with
one another; for sometimes they are not even pleasurable to one another; nor,
in fact, do they desire such intercourse unless their friends are profitable to
them, because they are pleasurable only in so far as they have hopes of
advantage. With these Friendships is commonly ranked that of hospitality.

But the Friendship of the young is thought to be based on the motive of
pleasure: because they live at the beck and call of passion and generally
pursue what is pleasurable to themselves and the object of the present moment:
and as their age changes so likewise do their pleasures.

This is the reason why they form and dissolve Friendships rapidly: since the
Friendship changes with the pleasurable object and such pleasure changes
quickly.

The young are also much given up to Love; this passion being, in great measure,
a matter of impulse and based on pleasure: for which cause they conceive
Friendships and quickly drop them, changing often in the same day: but these
wish for society and intimate intercourse with their friends, since they thus
attain the object of their Friendship.

Chapter V.

That then is perfect Friendship which subsists between those who are good and
whose similarity consists in their goodness: for these men wish one
another’s good in similar ways; in so far as they are good (and good they
are in themselves); and those are specially friends who wish good to their
friends for their sakes, because they feel thus towards them on their own
account and not as a mere matter of result; so the Friendship between these men
continues to subsist so long as they are good; and goodness, we know, has in it
a principle of permanence.

Moreover, each party is good abstractedly and also relatively to his friend,
for all good men are not only abstractedly good but also useful to one another.
Such friends are also mutually pleasurable because all good men are so
abstractedly, and also relatively to one another, inasmuch as to each
individual those actions are pleasurable which correspond to his nature, and
all such as are like them. Now when men are good these will be always the same,
or at least similar.

Friendship then under these circumstances is permanent, as we should reasonably
expect, since it combines in itself all the requisite qualifications of
friends. I mean, that Friendship of whatever kind is based upon good or
pleasure (either abstractedly or relatively to the person entertaining the
sentiment of Friendship), and results from a similarity of some sort; and to
this kind belong all the aforementioned requisites in the parties themselves,
because in this the parties are similar, and so on:^[4]
moreover, in it there is the abstractedly good and the abstractedly pleasant,
and as these are specially the object-matter of Friendship so the feeling and
the state of Friendship is found most intense and most excellent in men thus
qualified.

Rare it is probable Friendships of this kind will be, because men of this kind
are rare. Besides, all requisite qualifications being presupposed, there is
further required time and intimacy: for, as the proverb says, men cannot know
one another “till they have eaten the requisite quantity of salt
together;” nor can they in fact admit one another to intimacy, much less
be friends, till each has appeared to the other and been proved to be a fit
object of Friendship. They who speedily commence an interchange of friendly
actions may be said to wish to be friends, but they are not so unless they are
also proper objects of Friendship and mutually known to be such: that is to
say, a desire for Friendship may arise quickly but not Friendship itself.

Well, this Friendship is perfect both in respect of the time and in all other
points; and exactly the same and similar results accrue to each party from the
other; which ought to be the case between friends.

The friendship based upon the pleasurable is, so to say, a copy of this, since
the good are sources of pleasure to one another: and that based on utility
likewise, the good being also useful to one another. Between men thus connected
Friendships are most permanent when the same result accrues to both from one
another, pleasure, for instance; and not merely so but from the same source, as
in the case of two men of easy pleasantry; and not as it is in that of a lover
and the object of his affection, these not deriving their pleasure from the
same causes, but the former from seeing the latter and the latter from
receiving the attentions of the former: and when the bloom of youth fades the
Friendship sometimes ceases also, because then the lover derives no pleasure
from seeing and the object of his affection ceases to receive the attentions
which were paid before: in many cases, however, people so connected continue
friends, if being of similar tempers they have come from custom to like one
another’s disposition.

Where people do not interchange pleasure but profit in matters of Love, the
Friendship is both less intense in degree and also less permanent: in fact,
they who are friends because of advantage commonly part when the advantage
ceases; for, in reality, they never were friends of one another but of the
advantage.

So then it appears that from motives of pleasure or profit bad men may be
friends to one another, or good men to bad men or men of neutral character to
one of any character whatever: but disinterestedly, for the sake of one
another, plainly the good alone can be friends; because bad men have no
pleasure even in themselves unless in so far as some advantage arises.

And further, the Friendship of the good is alone superior to calumny; it not
being easy for men to believe a third person respecting one whom they have long
tried and proved: there is between good men mutual confidence, and the feeling
that one’s friend would never have done one wrong, and all other such
things as are expected in Friendship really worthy the name; but in the other
kinds there is nothing to prevent all such suspicions.

I call them Friendships, because since men commonly give the name of friends to
those who are connected from motives of profit (which is justified by political
language, for alliances between states are thought to be contracted with a view
to advantage), and to those who are attached to one another by the motive of
pleasure (as children are), we may perhaps also be allowed to call such persons
friends, and say there are several species of Friendship; primarily and
specially that of the good, in that they are good, and the rest only in the way
of resemblance: I mean, people connected otherwise are friends in that way in
which there arises to them somewhat good and some mutual resemblance (because,
we must remember the pleasurable is good to those who are fond of it).

These secondary Friendships, however, do not combine very well; that is to say,
the same persons do not become friends by reason of advantage and by reason of
the pleasurable, for these matters of result are not often combined. And
Friendship having been divided into these kinds, bad men will be friends by
reason of pleasure or profit, this being their point of resemblance; while the
good are friends for one another’s sake, that is, in so far as they are
good.

These last may be termed abstractedly and simply friends, the former as a
matter of result and termed friends from their resemblance to these last.

Chapter VI.

Further; just as in respect of the different virtues some men are termed good
in respect of a certain inward state, others in respect of acts of working, so
is it in respect of Friendship: I mean, they who live together take pleasure
in, and impart good to, one another: but they who are asleep or are locally
separated do not perform acts, but only are in such a state as to act in a
friendly way if they acted at all: distance has in itself no direct effect upon
Friendship, but only prevents the acting it out: yet, if the absence be
protracted, it is thought to cause a forgetfulness even of the Friendship: and
hence it has been said, “many and many a Friendship doth want of
intercourse destroy.”

Accordingly, neither the old nor the morose appear to be calculated for
Friendship, because the pleasurableness in them is small, and no one can spend
his days in company with that which is positively painful or even not
pleasurable; since to avoid the painful and aim at the pleasurable is one of
the most obvious tendencies of human nature. They who get on with one another
very fairly, but are not in habits of intimacy, are rather like people having
kindly feelings towards one another than friends; nothing being so
characteristic of friends as the living with one another, because the
necessitous desire assistance, and the happy companionship, they being the last
persons in the world for solitary existence: but people cannot spend their time
together unless they are mutually pleasurable and take pleasure in the same
objects, a quality which is thought to appertain to the Friendship of
companionship.

Chapter VII.

The connection then subsisting between the good is Friendship par
excellence, as has already been frequently said: since that which is
abstractedly good or pleasant is thought to be an object of Friendship and
choice-worthy, and to each individual whatever is such to him; and the good man
to the good man for both these reasons.

(Now the entertaining the sentiment is like a feeling, but Friendship itself
like a state: because the former may have for its object even things inanimate,
but requital of Friendship is attended with moral choice which proceeds from a
moral state: and again, men wish good to the objects of their Friendship for
their sakes, not in the way of a mere feeling but of moral state.)

And the good, in loving their friend, love their own good (inasmuch as the good
man, when brought into that relation, becomes a good to him with whom he is so
connected), so that either party loves his own good, and repays his friend
equally both in wishing well and in the pleasurable: for equality is said to be
a tie of Friendship. Well, these points belong most to the Friendship between
good men.

But between morose or elderly men Friendship is less apt to arise, because they
are somewhat awkward-tempered, and take less pleasure in intercourse and
society; these being thought to be specially friendly and productive of
Friendship: and so young men become friends quickly, old men not so (because
people do not become friends with any, unless they take pleasure in them); and
in like manner neither do the morose. Yet men of these classes entertain kindly
feelings towards one another: they wish good to one another and render mutual
assistance in respect of their needs, but they are not quite friends, because
they neither spend their time together nor take pleasure in one another, which
circumstances are thought specially to belong to Friendship.

To be a friend to many people, in the way of the perfect Friendship, is not
possible; just as you cannot be in love with many at once: it is, so to speak,
a state of excess which naturally has but one object; and besides, it is not an
easy thing for one man to be very much pleased with many people at the same
time, nor perhaps to find many really good. Again, a man needs experience, and
to be in habits of close intimacy, which is very difficult.

But it is possible to please many on the score of advantage and
pleasure: because there are many men of the kind, and the services may be
rendered in a very short time.

Of the two imperfect kinds that which most resembles the perfect is the
Friendship based upon pleasure, in which the same results accrue from both and
they take pleasure in one another or in the same objects; such as are the
Friendships of the young, because a generous spirit is most found in these. The
Friendship because of advantage is the connecting link of shopkeepers.

Then again, the very happy have no need of persons who are profitable, but of
pleasant ones they have because they wish to have people to live intimately
with; and what is painful they bear for a short time indeed, but continuously
no one could support it, nay, not even the Chief Good itself, if it were
painful to him individually: and so they look out for pleasant friends: perhaps
they ought to require such to be good also; and good moreover to themselves
individually, because then they will have all the proper requisites of
Friendship.

Men in power are often seen to make use of several distinct friends: for some
are useful to them and others pleasurable, but the two are not often united:
because they do not, in fact, seek such as shall combine pleasantness and
goodness, nor such as shall be useful for honourable purposes: but with a view
to attain what is pleasant they look out for men of easy-pleasantry; and again,
for men who are clever at executing any business put into their hands: and
these qualifications are not commonly found united in the same man.

It has been already stated that the good man unites the qualities of
pleasantness and usefulness: but then such a one will not be a friend to a
superior unless he be also his superior in goodness: for if this be not the
case, he cannot, being surpassed in one point, make things equal by a
proportionate degree of Friendship.^[5]
And characters who unite superiority of station and goodness are not common.

Chapter VIII.

Now all the kinds of Friendship which have been already mentioned exist in a
state of equality, inasmuch as either the same results accrue to both and they
wish the same things to one another, or else they barter one thing against
another; pleasure, for instance, against profit: it has been said already that
Friendships of this latter kind are less intense in degree and less permanent.

And it is their resemblance or dissimilarity to the same thing which makes them
to be thought to be and not to be Friendships: they show like Friendships in
right of their likeness to that which is based on virtue (the one kind having
the pleasurable, the other the profitable, both of which belong also to the
other); and again, they do not show like Friendships by reason of their
unlikeness to that true kind; which unlikeness consists herein, that while that
is above calumny and so permanent these quickly change and differ in many other
points.

But there is another form of Friendship, that, namely, in which the one party
is superior to the other; as between father and son, elder and younger, husband
and wife, ruler and ruled. These also differ one from another: I mean, the
Friendship between parents and children is not the same as between ruler and
the ruled, nor has the father the same towards the son as the son towards the
father, nor the husband towards the wife as she towards him; because the work,
and therefore the excellence, of each of these is different, and different
therefore are the causes of their feeling Friendship; distinct and different
therefore are their feelings and states of Friendship.

And the same results do not accrue to each from the other, nor in fact ought
they to be looked for: but, when children render to their parents what they
ought to the authors of their being, and parents to their sons what they ought
to their offspring, the Friendship between such parties will be permanent and
equitable.

Further; the feeling of Friendship should be in a due proportion in all
Friendships which are between superior and inferior; I mean, the better man, or
the more profitable, and so forth, should be the object of a stronger feeling
than he himself entertains, because when the feeling of Friendship comes to be
after a certain rate then equality in a certain sense is produced, which is
thought to be a requisite in Friendship.

(It must be remembered, however, that the equal is not in the same case as
regards Justice and Friendship: for in strict Justice the exactly proportioned
equal ranks first, and the actual numerically equal ranks second, while in
Friendship this is exactly reversed.)

And that equality is thus requisite is plainly shown by the occurrence of a
great difference of goodness or badness, or prosperity, or something else: for
in this case, people are not any longer friends, nay they do not even feel that
they ought to be. The clearest illustration is perhaps the case of the gods,
because they are most superior in all good things. It is obvious too, in the
case of kings, for they who are greatly their inferiors do not feel entitled to
be friends to them; nor do people very insignificant to be friends to those of
very high excellence or wisdom. Of course, in such cases it is out of the
question to attempt to define up to what point they may continue friends: for
you may remove many points of agreement and the Friendship last nevertheless;
but when one of the parties is very far separated (as a god from men), it
cannot continue any longer.

This has given room for a doubt, whether friends do really wish to their
friends the very highest goods, as that they may be gods: because, in case the
wish were accomplished, they would no longer have them for friends, nor in fact
would they have the good things they had, because friends are good things. If
then it has been rightly said that a friend wishes to his friend good things
for that friend’s sake, it must be understood that he is to remain such
as he now is: that is to say, he will wish the greatest good to him of which as
man he is capable: yet perhaps not all, because each man desires good for
himself most of all.

It is thought that desire for honour makes the mass of men wish rather to be
the objects of the feeling of Friendship than to entertain it themselves (and
for this reason they are fond of flatterers, a flatterer being a friend
inferior or at least pretending to be such and rather to entertain towards
another the feeling of Friendship than to be himself the object of it), since
the former is thought to be nearly the same as being honoured, which the mass
of men desire. And yet men seem to choose honour, not for its own sake, but
incidentally:^[6]
I mean, the common run of men delight to be honoured by those in power because
of the hope it raises; that is they think they shall get from them anything
they may happen to be in want of, so they delight in honour as an earnest of
future benefit. They again who grasp at honour at the hands of the good and
those who are really acquainted with their merits desire to confirm their own
opinion about themselves: so they take pleasure in the conviction that they are
good, which is based on the sentence of those who assert it. But in being the
objects of Friendship men delight for its own sake, and so this may be judged
to be higher than being honoured and Friendship to be in itself choice-worthy.
Friendship, moreover, is thought to consist in feeling, rather than being the
object of, the sentiment of Friendship, which is proved by the delight mothers
have in the feeling: some there are who give their children to be adopted and
brought up by others, and knowing them bear this feeling towards them never
seeking to have it returned, if both are not possible; but seeming to be
content with seeing them well off and bearing this feeling themselves towards
them, even though they, by reason of ignorance, never render to them any filial
regard or love.

Since then Friendship stands rather in the entertaining, than in being the
object of, the sentiment, and they are praised who are fond of their friends,
it seems that entertaining the sentiment is the Excellence of friends; and so,
in whomsoever this exists in due proportion these are stable friends and their
Friendship is permanent. And in this way may they who are unequal best be
friends, because they may thus be made equal.

Equality, then, and similarity are a tie to Friendship, and specially the
similarity of goodness, because good men, being stable in themselves, are also
stable as regards others, and neither ask degrading services nor render them,
but, so to say, rather prevent them: for it is the part of the good neither to
do wrong themselves nor to allow their friends in so doing.

The bad, on the contrary, have no principle of stability: in fact, they do not
even continue like themselves: only they come to be friends for a short time
from taking delight in one another’s wickedness. Those connected by
motives of profit, or pleasure, hold together somewhat longer: so long, that is
to say, as they can give pleasure or profit mutually.

The Friendship based on motives of profit is thought to be most of all formed
out of contrary elements: the poor man, for instance, is thus a friend of the
rich, and the ignorant of the man of information; that is to say, a man
desiring that of which he is, as it happens, in want, gives something else in
exchange for it. To this same class we may refer the lover and beloved, the
beautiful and the ill-favoured. For this reason lovers sometimes show in a
ridiculous light by claiming to be the objects of as intense a feeling as they
themselves entertain: of course if they are equally fit objects of Friendship
they are perhaps entitled to claim this, but if they have nothing of the kind
it is ridiculous.

Perhaps, moreover, the contrary does not aim at its contrary for its own sake
but incidentally: the mean is really what is grasped at; it being good for the
dry, for instance, not to become wet but to attain the mean, and so of the hot,
etc.

However, let us drop these questions, because they are in fact somewhat foreign
to our purpose.

Chapter IX.

It seems too, as was stated at the commencement, that Friendship and Justice
have the same object-matter, and subsist between the same persons: I mean that
in every Communion there is thought to be some principle of Justice and also
some Friendship: men address as friends, for instance, those who are their
comrades by sea, or in war, and in like manner also those who are brought into
Communion with them in other ways: and the Friendship, because also the
Justice, is co-extensive with the Communion, This justifies the common proverb,
“the goods of friends are common,” since Friendship rests upon
Communion.

Now brothers and intimate companions have all in common, but other people have
their property separate, and some have more in common and others less, because
the Friendships likewise differ in degree. So too do the various principles of
Justice involved, not being the same between parents and children as between
brothers, nor between companions as between fellow-citizens merely, and so on
of all the other conceivable Friendships. Different also are the principles of
Injustice as regards these different grades, and the acts become intensified by
being done to friends; for instance, it is worse to rob your companion than one
who is merely a fellow-citizen; to refuse help to a brother than to a stranger;
and to strike your father than any one else. So then the Justice naturally
increases with the degree of Friendship, as being between the same parties and
of equal extent.

All cases of Communion are parts, so to say, of the great Social one, since in
them men associate with a view to some advantage and to procure some of those
things which are needful for life; and the great Social Communion is thought
originally to have been associated and to continue for the sake of some
advantage: this being the point at which legislators aim, affirming that to be
just which is generally expedient.

All the other cases of Communion aim at advantage in particular points; the
crew of a vessel at that which is to result from the voyage which is undertaken
with a view to making money, or some such object; comrades in war at that which
is to result from the war, grasping either at wealth or victory, or it may be a
political position; and those of the same tribe, or Demus, in like manner.

Some of them are thought to be formed for pleasure’s sake, those, for
instance, of bacchanals or club-fellows, which are with a view to Sacrifice or
merely company. But all these seem to be ranged under the great Social one,
inasmuch as the aim of this is, not merely the expediency of the moment but,
for life and at all times; with a view to which the members of it institute
sacrifices and their attendant assemblies, to render honour to the gods and
procure for themselves respite from toil combined with pleasure. For it appears
that sacrifices and religious assemblies in old times were made as a kind of
first-fruits after the ingathering of the crops, because at such seasons they
had most leisure.

So then it appears that all the instances of Communion are parts of the great
Social one: and corresponding Friendships will follow upon such Communions.

Chapter X.

Of Political Constitutions there are three kinds; and equal in number are the
deflections from them, being, so to say, corruptions of them.

The former are Kingship, Aristocracy, and that which recognises the principle
of wealth, which it seems appropriate to call Timocracy (I give to it the name
of a political constitution because people commonly do so). Of these the best
is Monarchy, and Timocracy the worst.

From Monarchy the deflection is Despotism; both being Monarchies but widely
differing from each other; for the Despot looks to his own advantage, but the
King to that of his subjects: for he is in fact no King who is not thoroughly
independent and superior to the rest in all good things, and he that is this
has no further wants: he will not then have to look to his own advantage but to
that of his subjects, for he that is not in such a position is a mere King
elected by lot for the nonce.

But Despotism is on a contrary footing to this Kingship, because the Despot
pursues his own good: and in the case of this its inferiority is most evident,
and what is worse is contrary to what is best. The Transition to Despotism is
made from Kingship, Despotism being a corrupt form of Monarchy, that is to say,
the bad King comes to be a Despot.

From Aristocracy to Oligarchy the transition is made by the fault of the Rulers
in distributing the public property contrary to right proportion; and giving
either all that is good, or the greatest share, to themselves; and the offices
to the same persons always, making wealth their idol; thus a few bear rule and
they bad men in the place of the best.

From Timocracy the transition is to Democracy, they being contiguous: for it is
the nature of Timocracy to be in the hands of a multitude, and all in the same
grade of property are equal. Democracy is the least vicious of all, since
herein the form of the constitution undergoes least change.

Well, these are generally the changes to which the various Constitutions are
liable, being the least in degree and the easiest to make.

Likenesses, and, as it were, models of them, one may find even in Domestic
life: for instance, the Communion between a Father and his Sons presents the
figure of Kingship, because the children are the Father’s care: and hence
Homer names Jupiter Father because Kingship is intended to be a paternal rule.
Among the Persians, however, the Father’s rule is Despotic, for they
treat their Sons as slaves. (The relation of Master to Slaves is of the nature
of Despotism because the point regarded herein is the Master’s interest):
this now strikes me to be as it ought, but the Persian custom to be mistaken;
because for different persons there should be different rules.

Between Husband and Wife the relation takes the form of Aristocracy, because he
rules by right and in such points only as the Husband should, and gives to the
Wife all that befits her to have. Where the Husband lords it in everything he
changes the relation into an Oligarchy; because he does it contrary to right
and not as being the better of the two. In some instances the Wives take the
reins of government, being heiresses: here the rule is carried on not in right
of goodness but by reason of wealth and power, as it is in Oligarchies.

Timocracy finds its type in the relation of Brothers: they being equal except
as to such differences as age introduces: for which reason, if they are very
different in age, the Friendship comes to be no longer a fraternal one: while
Democracy is represented specially by families which have no head (all being
there equal), or in which the proper head is weak and so every member does that
which is right in his own eyes.

Chapter XI.

Attendant then on each form of Political Constitution there plainly is
Friendship exactly co-extensive with the principle of Justice; that between a
King and his Subjects being in the relation of a superiority of benefit,
inasmuch as he benefits his subjects; it being assumed that he is a good king
and takes care of their welfare as a shepherd tends his flock; whence Homer (to
quote him again) calls Agamemnon, “shepherd of the people.” And of
this same kind is the Paternal Friendship, only that it exceeds the former in
the greatness of the benefits done; because the father is the author of being
(which is esteemed the greatest benefit) and of maintenance and education
(these things are also, by the way, ascribed to ancestors generally): and by
the law of nature the father has the right of rule over his sons, ancestors
over their descendants, and the king over his subjects.

These friendships are also between superiors and inferiors, for which reason
parents are not merely loved but also honoured. The principle of Justice also
between these parties is not exactly the same but according to proportiton,
because so also is the Friendship.

Now between Husband and Wife there is the same Friendship as in Aristocracy:
for the relation is determined by relative excellence, and the better person
has the greater good and each has what befits: so too also is the principle of
Justice between them.

The Fraternal Friendship is like that of Companions, because brothers are equal
and much of an age, and such persons have generally like feelings and like
dispositions. Like to this also is the Friendship of a Timocracy, because the
citizens are intended to be equal and equitable: rule, therefore, passes from
hand to hand, and is distributed on equal terms: so too is the Friendship
accordingly.

In the deflections from the constitutional forms, just as the principle of
Justice is but small so is the Friendship also: and least of all in the most
perverted form: in Despotism there is little or no Friendship. For generally
wherever the ruler and the ruled have nothing in common there is no Friendship
because there is no Justice; but the case is as between an artisan and his
tool, or between soul and body, and master and slave; all these are benefited
by those who use them, but towards things inanimate there is neither Friendship
nor Justice: nor even towards a horse or an ox, or a slave quâ slave,
because there is nothing in common: a slave as such is an animate tool, a tool
an inanimate slave. Quâ slave, then, there is no Friendship towards him,
only quâ man: for it is thought that there is some principle of Justice
between every man, and every other who can share in law and be a party to an
agreement; and so somewhat of Friendship, in so far as he is man. So in
Despotisms the Friendships and the principle of Justice are inconsiderable in
extent, but in Democracies they are most considerable because they who are
equal have much in common.

Chapter XII.

Now of course all Friendship is based upon Communion, as has been already
stated: but one would be inclined to separate off from the rest the Friendship
of Kindred, and that of Companions: whereas those of men of the same city, or
tribe, or crew, and all such, are more peculiarly, it would seem, based upon
Communion, inasmuch as they plainly exist in right of some agreement expressed
or implied: among these one may rank also the Friendship of Hospitality,

The Friendship of Kindred is likewise of many kinds, and appears in all its
varieties to depend on the Parental: parents, I mean, love their children as
being a part of themselves, children love their parents as being themselves
somewhat derived from them. But parents know their offspring more than these
know that they are from the parents, and the source is more closely bound to
that which is produced than that which is produced is to that which formed it:
of course, whatever is derived from one’s self is proper to that from
which it is so derived (as, for instance, a tooth or a hair, or any other thing
whatever to him that has it): but the source to it is in no degree proper, or
in an inferior degree at least.

Then again the greater length of time comes in: the parents love their
offspring from the first moment of their being, but their offspring them only
after a lapse of time when they have attained intelligence or instinct. These
considerations serve also to show why mothers have greater strength of
affection than fathers.

Now parents love their children as themselves (since what is derived from
themselves becomes a kind of other Self by the fact of separation), but
children their parents as being sprung from them. And brothers love one another
from being sprung from the same; that is, their sameness with the common stock
creates a sameness with one another;^[7]
whence come the phrases, “same blood,” “root,” and so
on. In fact they are the same, in a sense, even in the separate distinct
individuals.

Then again the being brought up together, and the nearness of age, are a great
help towards Friendship, for a man likes one of his own age and persons who are
used to one another are companions, which accounts for the resemblance between
the Friendship of Brothers and that of Companions.

And cousins and all other relatives derive their bond of union from these, that
is to say, from their community of origin: and the strength of this bond varies
according to their respective distances from the common ancestor.

Further: the Friendship felt by children towards parents, and by men towards
the gods, is as towards something good and above them; because these have
conferred the greatest possible benefits, in that they are the causes of their
being and being nourished, and of their having been educated after they were
brought into being.

And Friendship of this kind has also the pleasurable and the profitable more
than that between persons unconnected by blood, in proportion as their life is
also more shared in common. Then again in the Fraternal Friendship there is all
that there is in that of Companions, and more in the good, and generally in
those who are alike; in proportion as they are more closely tied and from their
very birth have a feeling of affection for one another to begin with, and as
they are more like in disposition who spring from the same stock and have grown
up together and been educated alike: and besides this they have the greatest
opportunities in respect of time for proving one another, and can therefore
depend most securely upon the trial.

Between Husband and Wife there is thought to be Friendship by a law of nature:
man being by nature disposed to pair, more than to associate in Communities: in
proportion as the family is prior in order of time and more absolutely
necessary than the Community. And procreation is more common to him with other
animals; all the other animals have Communion thus far, but human creatures
cohabit not merely for the sake of procreation but also with a view to life in
general:^[8]
because in this connection the works are immediately divided, and some belong
to the man, others to the woman: thus they help one the other, putting what is
peculiar to each into the common stock.

And for these reasons this Friendship is thought to combine the profitable and
the pleasurable: it will be also based upon virtue if they are good people;
because each has goodness and they may take delight in this quality in each
other. Children too are thought to be a tie: accordingly the childless sooner
separate, for the children are a good common to both and anything in common is
a bond of union.

The question how a man is to live with his wife, or (more generally) one friend
with another, appears to be no other than this, how it is just that they
should: because plainly there is not the same principle of Justice between a
friend and friend, as between strangers, or companions, or mere chance
fellow-travellers.

Chapter XIII.

There are then, as was stated at the commencement of this book, three kinds of
Friendship, and in each there may be friends on a footing of equality and
friends in the relation of superior and inferior; we find, I mean, that people
who are alike in goodness, become friends, and better with worse, and so also
pleasant people; again, because of advantage people are friends, either
balancing exactly their mutual profitableness or differing from one another
herein. Well then, those who are equal should in right of this equality be
equalised also by the degree of their Friendship and the other points, and
those who are on a footing of inequality by rendering Friendship in proportion
to the superiority of the other party.

Fault-finding and blame arises, either solely or most naturally, in Friendship
of which utility is the motive: for they who are friends by reason of goodness,
are eager to do kindnesses to one another because this is a natural result of
goodness and Friendship; and when men are vying with each other for this End
there can be no fault-finding nor contention: since no one is annoyed at one
who entertains for him the sentiment of Friendship and does kindnesses to him,
but if of a refined mind he requites him with kind actions. And suppose that
one of the two exceeds the other, yet as he is attaining his object he will not
find fault with his friend, for good is the object of each party.

Neither can there well be quarrels between men who are friends for
pleasure’s sake: because supposing them to delight in living together
then both attain their desire; or if not a man would be put in a ridiculous
light who should find fault with another for not pleasing him, since it is in
his power to forbear intercourse with him. But the Friendship because of
advantage is very liable to fault-finding; because, as the parties use one
another with a view to advantage, the requirements are continually enlarging,
and they think they have less than of right belongs to them, and find fault
because though justly entitled they do not get as much as they want: while they
who do the kindnesses, can never come up to the requirements of those to whom
they are being done.

It seems also, that as the Just is of two kinds, the unwritten and the legal,
so Friendship because of advantage is of two kinds, what may be called the
Moral, and the Legal: and the most fruitful source of complaints is that
parties contract obligations and discharge them not in the same line of
Friendship. The Legal is upon specified conditions, either purely tradesmanlike
from hand to hand or somewhat more gentlemanly as regards time but still by
agreement a quid pro quo.

In this Legal kind the obligation is clear and admits of no dispute, the
friendly element is the delay in requiring its discharge: and for this reason
in some countries no actions can be maintained at Law for the recovery of such
debts, it being held that they who have dealt on the footing of credit must be
content to abide the issue.

That which may be termed the Moral kind is not upon specified conditions, but a
man gives as to his friend and so on: but still he expects to receive an
equivalent, or even more, as though he had not given but lent: he also will
find fault, because he does not get the obligation discharged in the same way
as it was contracted.

Now this results from the fact, that all men, or the generality at least,
wish what is honourable, but, when tested, choose what is
profitable; and the doing kindnesses disinterestedly is honourable while
receiving benefits is profitable. In such cases one should, if able, make a
return proportionate to the good received, and do so willingly, because one
ought not to make a disinterested friend^[9]
of a man against his inclination: one should act, I say, as having made a
mistake originally in receiving kindness from one from whom one ought not to
have received it, he being not a friend nor doing the act disinterestedly; one
should therefore discharge one’s self of the obligation as having
received a kindness on specified terms: and if able a man would engage to repay
the kindness, while if he were unable even the doer of it would not expect it
of him: so that if he is able he ought to repay it. But one ought at the first
to ascertain from whom one is receiving kindness, and on what understanding,
that on that same understanding one may accept it or not.

A question admitting of dispute is whether one is to measure a kindness by the
good done to the receiver of it, and make this the standard by which to
requite, or by the kind intention of the doer?

For they who have received kindnesses frequently plead in depreciation that
they have received from their benefactors such things as were small for them to
give, or such as they themselves could have got from others: while the doers of
the kindnesses affirm that they gave the best they had, and what could not have
been got from others, and under danger, or in such-like straits.

May we not say, that as utility is the motive of the Friendship the advantage
conferred on the receiver must be the standard? because he it is who requests
the kindness and the other serves him in his need on the understanding that he
is to get an equivalent: the assistance rendered is then exactly proportionate
to the advantage which the receiver has obtained, and he should therefore repay
as much as he gained by it, or even more, this being more creditable.

In Friendships based on goodness, the question, of course, is never raised, but
herein the motive of the doer seems to be the proper standard, since virtue and
moral character depend principally on motive.

Chapter XIV.

Quarrels arise also in those Friendships in which the parties are unequal
because each party thinks himself entitled to the greater share, and of course,
when this happens, the Friendship is broken up.

The man who is better than the other thinks that having the greater share
pertains to him of right, for that more is always awarded to the good man: and
similarly the man who is more profitable to another than that other to him:
“one who is useless,” they say, “ought not to share equally,
for it comes to a tax, and not a Friendship, unless the fruits of the
Friendship are reaped in proportion to the works done:” their notion
being, that as in a money partnership they who contribute more receive more so
should it be in Friendship likewise.

On the other hand, the needy man and the less virtuous advance the opposite
claim: they urge that “it is the very business of a good friend to help
those who are in need, else what is the use of having a good or powerful friend
if one is not to reap the advantage at all?”

Now each seems to advance a right claim and to be entitled to get more out of
the connection than the other, only not more of the same thing: but the
superior man should receive more respect, the needy man more profit: respect
being the reward of goodness and beneficence, profit being the aid of need.

This is plainly the principle acted upon in Political Communities: he receives
no honour who gives no good to the common stock: for the property of the Public
is given to him who does good to the Public, and honour is the property of the
Public; it is not possible both to make money out of the Public and receive
honour likewise; because no one will put up with the less in every respect: so
to him who suffers loss as regards money they award honour, but money to him
who can be paid by gifts: since, as has been stated before, the observing due
proportion equalises and preserves Friendship.

Like rules then should be observed in the intercourse of friends who are
unequal; and to him who advantages another in respect of money, or goodness,
that other should repay honour, making requital according to his power; because
Friendship requires what is possible, not what is strictly due, this being not
possible in all cases, as in the honours paid to the gods and to parents: no
man could ever make the due return in these cases, and so he is thought to be a
good man who pays respect according to his ability.

For this reason it may be judged never to be allowable for a son to disown his
father, whereas a father may his son: because he that owes is bound to pay; now
a son can never, by anything he has done, fully requite the benefits first
conferred on him by his father, and so is always a debtor. But they to whom
anything is owed may cast off their debtors: therefore the father may his son.
But at the same time it must perhaps be admitted, that it seems no father ever
would sever himself utterly from a son, except in a case of exceeding
depravity: because, independently of the natural Friendship, it is like human
nature not to put away from one’s self the assistance which a son might
render. But to the son, if depraved, assisting his father is a thing to be
avoided, or at least one which he will not be very anxious to do; most men
being willing enough to receive kindness, but averse to doing it as
unprofitable.

Let thus much suffice on these points.

BOOK IX

Chapter I.

Well, in all the Friendships the parties to which are dissimilar it is the
proportionate which equalises and preserves the Friendship, as has been already
stated: I mean, in the Social Friendship the cobbler, for instance, gets an
equivalent for his shoes after a certain rate; and the weaver, and all others
in like manner. Now in this case a common measure has been provided in money,
and to this accordingly all things are referred and by this are measured: but
in the Friendship of Love the complaint is sometimes from the lover that,
though he loves exceedingly, his love is not requited; he having perhaps all
the time nothing that can be the object of Friendship: again, oftentimes from
the object of love that he who as a suitor promised any and every thing now
performs nothing. These cases occur because the Friendship of the lover for the
beloved object is based upon pleasure, that of the other for him upon utility,
and in one of the parties the requisite quality is not found: for, as these are
respectively the grounds of the Friendship, the Friendship comes to be broken
up because the motives to it cease to exist: the parties loved not one another
but qualities in one another which are not permanent, and so neither are the
Friendships: whereas the Friendship based upon the moral character of the
parties, being independent and disinterested, is permanent, as we have already
stated.

Quarrels arise also when the parties realise different results and not those
which they desire; for the not attaining one’s special object is all one,
in this case, with getting nothing at all: as in the well-known case where a
man made promises to a musician, rising in proportion to the excellence of his
music; but when, the next morning, the musician claimed the performance of his
promises, he said that he had given him pleasure for pleasure: of course, if
each party had intended this, it would have been all right: but if the one
desires amusement and the other gain, and the one gets his object but the other
not, the dealing cannot be fair: because a man fixes his mind upon what he
happens to want, and will give so and so for that specific thing.

The question then arises, who is to fix the rate? the man who first gives, or
the man who first takes? because, primâ facie, the man who first gives
seems to leave the rate to be fixed by the other party. This, they say, was in
fact the practice of Protagoras: when he taught a man anything he would bid the
learner estimate the worth of the knowledge gained by his own private opinion;
and then he used to take so much from him. In such cases some people adopt the
rule,

“With specified reward a friend should be content.”

They are certainly fairly found fault with who take the money in advance and
then do nothing of what they said they would do, their promises having been so
far beyond their ability; for such men do not perform what they agreed, The
Sophists, however, are perhaps obliged to take this course, because no one
would give a sixpence for their knowledge. These then, I say, are fairly found
fault with, because they do not what they have already taken money for doing.

In cases where no stipulation as to the respective services is made they who
disinterestedly do the first service will not raise the question (as we have
said before), because it is the nature of Friendship, based on mutual goodness
to be reference to the intention of the other, the intention being
characteristic of the true friend and of goodness.

And it would seem the same rule should be laid down for those who are connected
with one another as teachers and learners of philosophy; for here the value of
the commodity cannot be measured by money, and, in fact, an exactly equivalent
price cannot be set upon it, but perhaps it is sufficient to do what one can,
as in the case of the gods or one’s parents.

But where the original giving is not upon these terms but avowedly for some
return, the most proper course is perhaps for the requital to be such as
both shall allow to be proportionate, and, where this cannot be, then
for the receiver to fix the value would seem to be not only necessary but also
fair: because when the first giver gets that which is equivalent to the
advantage received by the other, or to what he would have given to secure the
pleasure he has had, then he has the value from him: for not only is this seen
to be the course adopted in matters of buying and selling but also in some
places the law does not allow of actions upon voluntary dealings; on the
principle that when one man has trusted another he must be content to have the
obligation discharged in the same spirit as he originally contracted it: that
is to say, it is thought fairer for the trusted, than for the trusting, party,
to fix the value. For, in general, those who have and those who wish to get
things do not set the same value on them: what is their own, and what they give
in each case, appears to them worth a great deal: but yet the return is made
according to the estimate of those who have received first, it should perhaps
be added that the receiver should estimate what he has received, not by the
value he sets upon it now that he has it, but by that which he set upon it
before he obtained it.

Chapter II.

Questions also arise upon such points as the following: Whether one’s
father has an unlimited claim on one’s services and obedience, or whether
the sick man is to obey his physician? or, in an election of a general, the
warlike qualities of the candidates should be alone regarded?

In like manner whether one should do a service rather to one’s friend or
to a good man? whether one should rather requite a benefactor or give to
one’s companion, supposing that both are not within one’s power?

Is not the true answer that it is no easy task to determine all such questions
accurately, inasmuch as they involve numerous differences of all kinds, in
respect of amount and what is honourable and what is necessary? It is obvious,
of course, that no one person can unite in himself all claims. Again, the
requital of benefits is, in general, a higher duty than doing unsolicited
kindnesses to one’s companion; in other words, the discharging of a debt
is more obligatory upon one than the duty of giving to a companion. And yet
this rule may admit of exceptions; for instance, which is the higher duty? for
one who has been ransomed out of the hands of robbers to ransom in return his
ransomer, be he who he may, or to repay him on his demand though he has not
been taken by robbers, or to ransom his own father? for it would seem that a
man ought to ransom his father even in preference to himself.

Well then, as has been said already, as a general rule the debt should be
discharged, but if in a particular case the giving greatly preponderates as
being either honourable or necessary, we must be swayed by these
considerations: I mean, in some cases the requital of the obligation previously
existing may not be equal; suppose, for instance, that the original benefactor
has conferred a kindness on a good man, knowing him to be such, whereas this
said good man has to repay it believing him to be a scoundrel.

And again, in certain cases no obligation lies on a man to lend to one who has
lent to him; suppose, for instance, that a bad man lent to him, as being a good
man, under the notion that he should get repaid, whereas the said good man has
no hope of repayment from him being a bad man. Either then the case is really
as we have supposed it and then the claim is not equal, or it is not so but
supposed to be; and still in so acting people are not to be thought to act
wrongly. In short, as has been oftentimes stated before, all statements
regarding feelings and actions can be definite only in proportion as their
object-matter is so; it is of course quite obvious that all people have not the
same claim upon one, nor are the claims of one’s father unlimited; just
as Jupiter does not claim all kinds of sacrifice without distinction: and since
the claims of parents, brothers, companions, and benefactors, are all
different, we must give to each what belongs to and befits each.

And this is seen to be the course commonly pursued: to marriages men commonly
invite their relatives, because these are from a common stock and therefore all
the actions in any way pertaining thereto are common also: and to funerals men
think that relatives ought to assemble in preference to other people, for the
same reason.

And it would seem that in respect of maintenance it is our duty to assist our
parents in preference to all others, as being their debtors, and because it is
more honourable to succour in these respects the authors of our existence than
ourselves. Honour likewise we ought to pay to our parents just as to the gods,
but then, not all kinds of honour: not the same, for instance, to a father as
to a mother: nor again to a father the honour due to a scientific man or to a
general but that which is a father’s due, and in like manner to a mother
that which is a mother’s.

To all our elders also the honour befitting their age, by rising up in their
presence, turning out of the way for them, and all similar marks of respect: to
our companions again, or brothers, frankness and free participation in all we
have. And to those of the same family, or tribe, or city, with ourselves, and
all similarly connected with us, we should constantly try to render their due,
and to discriminate what belongs to each in respect of nearness of connection,
or goodness, or intimacy: of course in the case of those of the same class the
discrimination is easier; in that of those who are in different classes it is a
matter of more trouble. This, however, should not be a reason for giving up the
attempt, but we must observe the distinctions so far as it is practicable to do
so.

Chapter III.

A question is also raised as to the propriety of dissolving or not dissolving
those Friendships the parties to which do not remain what they were when the
connection was formed.

Now surely in respect of those whose motive to Friendship is utility or
pleasure there can be nothing wrong in breaking up the connection when they no
longer have those qualities; because they were friends [not of one another,
but] of those qualities: and, these having failed, it is only reasonable to
expect that they should cease to entertain the sentiment.

But a man has reason to find fault if the other party, being really attached to
him because of advantage or pleasure, pretended to be so because of his moral
character: in fact, as we said at the commencement, the most common source of
quarrels between friends is their not being friends on the same grounds as they
suppose themselves to be.

Now when a man has been deceived in having supposed himself to excite the
sentiment of Friendship by reason of his moral character, the other party doing
nothing to indicate he has but himself to blame: but when he has been deceived
by the pretence of the other he has a right to find fault with the man who has
so deceived him, aye even more than with utterers of false coin, in proportion
to the greater preciousness of that which is the object-matter of the villany.

But suppose a man takes up another as being a good man, who turns out, and is
found by him, to be a scoundrel, is he bound still to entertain Friendship for
him? or may we not say at once it is impossible? since it is not everything
which is the object-matter of Friendship, but only that which is good; and so
there is no obligation to be a bad man’s friend, nor, in fact, ought one
to be such: for one ought not to be a lover of evil, nor to be assimilated to
what is base; which would be implied, because we have said before, like is
friendly to like.

Are we then to break with him instantly? not in all cases; only where our
friends are incurably depraved; when there is a chance of amendment we are
bound to aid in repairing the moral character of our friends even more than
their substance, in proportion as it is better and more closely related to
Friendship. Still he who should break off the connection is not to be judged to
act wrongly, for he never was a friend to such a character as the other now is,
and therefore, since the man is changed and he cannot reduce him to his
original state, he backs out of the connection.

To put another case: suppose that one party remains what he was when the
Friendship was formed, while the other becomes morally improved and widely
different from his friend in goodness; is the improved character to treat the
other as a friend?

May we not say it is impossible? The case of course is clearest where there is
a great difference, as in the Friendships of boys: for suppose that of two
boyish friends the one still continues a boy in mind and the other becomes a
man of the highest character, how can they be friends? since they neither are
pleased with the same objects nor like and dislike the same things: for these
points will not belong to them as regards one another, and without them it was
assumed they cannot be friends because they cannot live in intimacy: and of the
case of those who cannot do so we have spoken before.

Well then, is the improved party to bear himself towards his former friend in
no way differently to what he would have done had the connection never existed?

Surely he ought to bear in mind the intimacy of past times, and just as we
think ourselves bound to do favours for our friends in preference to strangers,
so to those who have been friends and are so no longer we should allow somewhat
on the score of previous Friendship, whenever the cause of severance is not
excessive depravity on their part.

Chapter IV.

Now the friendly feelings which are exhibited towards our friends, and by which
Friendships are characterised, seem to have sprung out of those which we
entertain toward ourselves.

I mean, people define a friend to be “one who intends and does what is
good (or what he believes to be good) to another for that other’s
sake,” or “one who wishes his friend to be and to live for that
friend’s own sake” (which is the feeling of mothers towards their
children, and of friends who have come into collision). Others again,
“one who lives with another and chooses the same objects,” or
“one who sympathises with his friend in his sorrows and in his
joys” (this too is especially the case with mothers).

Well, by some one of these marks people generally characterise Friendship: and
each of these the good man has towards himself, and all others have them in so
far as they suppose themselves to be good. (For, as has been said before,
goodness, that is the good man, seems to be a measure to every one else.)

For he is at unity in himself, and with every part of his soul he desires the
same objects; and he wishes for himself both what is, and what he believes to
be, good; and he does it (it being characteristic of the good man to work at
what is good), and for the sake of himself, inasmuch as he does it for the sake
of his Intellectual Principle which is generally thought to be a man’s
Self. Again, he wishes himself And specially this Principle whereby he is an
intelligent being, to live and be preserved in life, because existence is a
good to him that is a good man.

But it is to himself that each individual wishes what is good, and no man,
conceiving the possibility of his becoming other than he now is, chooses that
that New Self should have all things indiscriminately: a god, for instance, has
at the present moment the Chief Good, but he has it in right of being whatever
he actually now is: and the Intelligent Principle must be judged to be each
man’s Self, or at least eminently so [though other Principles help, of
course, to constitute him the man he is].

Furthermore, the good man wishes to continue to live with himself; for he can
do it with pleasure, in that his memories of past actions are full of delight
and his anticipations of the future are good and such are pleasurable. Then,
again, he has good store of matter for his Intellect to contemplate, and he
most especially sympathises with his Self in its griefs and joys, because the
objects which give him pain and pleasure are at all times the same, not one
thing to-day and a different one to-morrow: because he is not given to
repentance,^[1]
if one may so speak. It is then because each of these feelings are entertained
by the good man towards his own Self and a friend feels towards a friend as
towards himself (a friend being in fact another Self), that Friendship is
thought to be some one of these things and they are accounted friends in whom
they are found. Whether or no there can really be Friendship between a man and
his Self is a question we will not at present entertain: there may be thought
to be Friendship, in so far as there are two or more of the aforesaid
requisites, and because the highest degree of Friendship, in the usual
acceptation of that term, resembles the feeling entertained by a man towards
himself.

But it may be urged that the aforesaid requisites are to all appearance found
in the common run of men, though they are men of a low stamp.

May it not be answered, that they share in them only in so far as they please
themselves, and conceive themselves to be good? for certainly, they are not
either really, or even apparently, found in any one of those who are very
depraved and villainous; we may almost say not even in those who are bad men at
all: for they are at variance with themselves and lust after different things
from those which in cool reason they wish for, just as men who fail of
Self-Control: I mean, they choose things which, though hurtful, are
pleasurable, in preference to those which in their own minds they believe to be
good: others again, from cowardice and indolence, decline to do what still they
are convinced is best for them: while they who from their depravity have
actually done many dreadful actions hate and avoid life, and accordingly kill
themselves: and the wicked seek others in whose company to spend their time,
but fly from themselves because they have many unpleasant subjects of memory,
and can only look forward to others like them when in solitude but drown their
remorse in the company of others: and as they have nothing to raise the
sentiment of Friendship so they never feel it towards themselves.

Neither, in fact, can they who are of this character sympathise with their
Selves in their joys and sorrows, because their soul is, as it were, rent by
faction, and the one principle, by reason of the depravity in them, is grieved
at abstaining from certain things, while the other and better principle is
pleased thereat; and the one drags them this way and the other that way, as
though actually tearing them asunder.^[2]
And though it is impossible actually to have at the same time the sensations of
pain and pleasure; yet after a little time the man is sorry for having been
pleased, and he could wish that those objects had not given him pleasure; for
the wicked are full of remorse.

It is plain then that the wicked man cannot be in the position of a friend even
towards himself, because he has in himself nothing which can excite the
sentiment of Friendship. If then to be thus is exceedingly wretched it is a
man’s duty to flee from wickedness with all his might and to strive to be
good, because thus may he be friends with himself and may come to be a friend
to another.

Chapter V.

Kindly Feeling, though resembling Friendship, is not identical with it, because
it may exist in reference to those whom we do not know and without the object
of it being aware of its existence, which Friendship cannot. (This, by the way,
has also been said before.) And further, it is not even Affection because it
does not imply intensity nor yearning, which are both consequences of
Affection. Again Affection requires intimacy but Kindly Feeling may arise quite
suddenly, as happens sometimes in respect of men against whom people are
matched in any way, I mean they come to be kindly disposed to them and
sympathise in their wishes, but still they would not join them in any action,
because, as we said, they conceive this feeling of kindness suddenly and so
have but a superficial liking.

What it does seem to be is the starting point of a Friendship; just as
pleasure, received through the sight, is the commencement of Love: for no one
falls in love without being first pleased with the personal appearance of the
beloved object, and yet he who takes pleasure in it does not therefore
necessarily love, but when he wearies for the object in its absence and desires
its presence. Exactly in the same way men cannot be friends without having
passed through the stage of Kindly Feeling, and yet they who are in that stage
do not necessarily advance to Friendship: they merely have an inert wish for
the good of those toward whom they entertain the feeling, but would not join
them in any action, nor put themselves out of the way for them. So that, in a
metaphorical way of speaking, one might say that it is dormant Friendship, and
when it has endured for a space and ripened into intimacy comes to be real
Friendship; but not that whose object is advantage or pleasure, because such
motives cannot produce even Kindly Feeling.

I mean, he who has received a kindness requites it by Kindly Feeling towards
his benefactor, and is right in so doing: but he who wishes another to be
prosperous, because he has hope of advantage through his instrumentality, does
not seem to be kindly disposed to that person but rather to himself; just as
neither is he his friend if he pays court to him for any interested purpose.

Kindly Feeling always arises by reason of goodness and a certain amiability,
when one man gives another the notion of being a fine fellow, or brave man,
etc., as we said was the case sometimes with those matched against one another.

Chapter VI.

Unity of Sentiment is also plainly connected with Friendship, and therefore is
not the same as Unity of Opinion, because this might exist even between people
unacquainted with one another.

Nor do men usually say people are united in sentiment merely because they agree
in opinion on any point, as, for instance, on points of astronomical
science (Unity of Sentiment herein not having any connection with Friendship),
but they say that Communities have Unity of Sentiment when they agree
respecting points of expediency and take the same line and carry out what has
been determined in common consultation.

Thus we see that Unity of Sentiment has for its object matters of action, and
such of these as are of importance, and of mutual, or, in the case of single
States, common, interest: when, for instance, all agree in the choice of
magistrates, or forming alliance with the Lacedæmonians, or appointing Pittacus
ruler (that is to say, supposing he himself was willing). But when each wishes
himself to be in power (as the brothers in the Phœnissæ), they quarrel and form
parties: for, plainly, Unity of Sentiment does not merely imply that each
entertains the same idea be it what it may, but that they do so in respect of
the same object, as when both the populace and the sensible men of a State
desire that the best men should be in office, because then all attain their
object.

Thus Unity of Sentiment is plainly a social Friendship, as it is also said to
be: since it has for its object-matter things expedient and relating to life.

And this Unity exists among the good: for they have it towards themselves and
towards one another, being, if I may be allowed the expression, in the same
position: I mean, the wishes of such men are steady and do not ebb and flow
like the Euripus, and they wish what is just and expedient and aim at these
things in common.

The bad, on the contrary, can as little have Unity of Sentiment as they can be
real friends, except to a very slight extent, desiring as they do unfair
advantage in things profitable while they shirk labour and service for the
common good: and while each man wishes for these things for himself he is
jealous of and hinders his neighbour: and as they do not watch over the common
good it is lost. The result is that they quarrel while they are for keeping one
another to work but are not willing to perform their just share.

Chapter VII.

Benefactors are commonly held to have more Friendship for the objects of their
kindness than these for them: and the fact is made a subject of discussion and
enquiry, as being contrary to reasonable expectation.

The account of the matter which satisfies most persons is that the one are
debtors and the others creditors: and therefore that, as in the case of actual
loans the debtors wish their creditors out of the way while the creditors are
anxious for the preservation of their debtors, so those who have done
kindnesses desire the continued existence of the people they have done them to,
under the notion of getting a return of their good offices, while these are not
particularly anxious about requital.

Epicharmus, I suspect, would very probably say that they who give this solution
judge from their own baseness; yet it certainly is like human nature, for the
generality of men have short memories on these points, and aim rather at
receiving than conferring benefits.

But the real cause, it would seem, rests upon nature, and the case is not
parallel to that of creditors; because in this there is no affection to the
persons, but merely a wish for their preservation with a view to the return:
whereas, in point of fact, they who have done kindnesses feel friendship and
love for those to whom they have done them, even though they neither are, nor
can by possibility hereafter be, in a position to serve their benefactors.

And this is the case also with artisans; every one, I mean, feels more
affection for his own work than that work possibly could for him if it were
animate. It is perhaps specially the case with poets: for these entertain very
great affection for their poems, loving them as their own children. It is to
this kind of thing I should be inclined to compare the case of benefactors: for
the object of their kindness is their own work, and so they love this more than
this loves its creator.

And the account of this is that existence is to all a thing choice-worthy and
an object of affection; now we exist by acts of working, that is, by living and
acting; he then that has created a given work exists, it may be said, by his
act of working: therefore he loves his work because he loves existence. And
this is natural, for the work produced displays in act what existed before
potentially.

Then again, the benefactor has a sense of honour in right of his action, so
that he may well take pleasure in him in whom this resides; but to him who has
received the benefit there is nothing honourable in respect of his benefactor,
only something advantageous which is both less pleasant and less the object of
Friendship.

Again, pleasure is derived from the actual working out of a present action,
from the anticipation of a future one, and from the recollection of a past one:
but the highest pleasure and special object of affection is that which attends
on the actual working. Now the benefactor’s work abides (for the
honourable is enduring), but the advantage of him who has received the kindness
passes away.

Again, there is pleasure in recollecting honourable actions, but in
recollecting advantageous ones there is none at all or much less (by the way
though, the contrary is true of the expectation of advantage).

Further, the entertaining the feeling of Friendship is like acting on another;
but being the object of the feeling is like being acted upon.

So then, entertaining the sentiment of Friendship, and all feelings connected
with it, attend on those who, in the given case of a benefaction, are the
superior party.

Once more: all people value most what has cost them much labour in the
production; for instance, people who have themselves made their money are
fonder of it than those who have inherited it: and receiving kindness is, it
seems, unlaborious, but doing it is laborious. And this is the reason why the
female parents are most fond of their offspring; for their part in producing
them is attended with most labour, and they know more certainly that they are
theirs. This feeling would seem also to belong to benefactors.

Chapter VIII.

A question is also raised as to whether it is right to love one’s Self
best, or some one else: because men find fault with those who love themselves
best, and call them in a disparaging way lovers of Self; and the bad man is
thought to do everything he does for his own sake merely, and the more so the
more depraved he is; accordingly men reproach him with never doing anything
unselfish: whereas the good man acts from a sense of honour (and the more so
the better man he is), and for his friend’s sake, and is careless of his
own interest.

But with these theories facts are at variance, and not unnaturally: for it is
commonly said also that a man is to love most him who is most his friend, and
he is most a friend who wishes good to him to whom he wishes it for that
man’s sake even though no one knows. Now these conditions, and in fact
all the rest by which a friend is characterised, belong specially to each
individual in respect of his Self: for we have said before that all the
friendly feelings are derived to others from those which have Self primarily
for their object. And all the current proverbs support this view; for instance,
“one soul,” “the goods of friends are common,”
“equality is a tie of Friendship,” “the knee is nearer than
the shin.” For all these things exist specially with reference to a
man’s own Self: he is specially a friend to himself and so he is bound to
love himself the most.

It is with good reason questioned which of the two parties one should follow,
both having plausibility on their side. Perhaps then, in respect of theories of
this kind, the proper course is to distinguish and define how far each is true,
and in what way. If we could ascertain the sense in which each uses the term
“Self-loving,” this point might be cleared up.

Well now, they who use it disparagingly give the name to those who, in respect
of wealth, and honours, and pleasures of the body, give to themselves the
larger share: because the mass of mankind grasp after these and are earnest
about them as being the best things; which is the reason why they are matters
of contention. They who are covetous in regard to these gratify their lusts and
passions in general, that is to say the irrational part of their soul: now the
mass of mankind are so disposed, for which reason the appellation has taken its
rise from that mass which is low and bad. Of course they are justly reproached
who are Self-loving in this sense.

And that the generality of men are accustomed to apply the term to denominate
those who do give such things to themselves is quite plain: suppose, for
instance, that a man were anxious to do, more than other men, acts of justice,
or self-mastery, or any other virtuous acts, and, in general, were to secure to
himself that which is abstractedly noble and honourable, no one would call him
Self-loving, nor blame him.

Yet might such an one be judged to be more truly Self-loving: certainly he
gives to himself the things which are most noble and most good, and gratifies
that Principle of his nature which is most rightfully authoritative, and obeys
it in everything: and just as that which possesses the highest authority is
thought to constitute a Community or any other system, so also in the case of
Man: and so he is most truly Self-loving who loves and gratifies this
Principle.

Again, men are said to have, or to fail of having, self-control, according as
the Intellect controls or not, it being plainly implied thereby that this
Principle constitutes each individual; and people are thought to have done of
themselves, and voluntarily, those things specially which are done with Reason.

It is plain, therefore, that this Principle does, either entirely or specially
constitute the individual man, and that the good man specially loves this. For
this reason then he must be specially Self-loving, in a kind other than that
which is reproached, and as far superior to it as living in accordance with
Reason is to living at the beck and call of passion, and aiming at the truly
noble to aiming at apparent advantage.

Now all approve and commend those who are eminently earnest about honourable
actions, and if all would vie with one another in respect of the
καλὸν, and be intent upon doing what is most truly
noble and honourable, society at large would have all that is proper while each
individual in particular would have the greatest of goods, Virtue being assumed
to be such.

And so the good man ought to be Self-loving: because by doing what is noble he
will have advantage himself and will do good to others: but the bad man ought
not to be, because he will harm himself and his neighbours by following low and
evil passions. In the case of the bad man, what he ought to do and what he does
are at variance, but the good man does what he ought to do, because all
Intellect chooses what is best for itself and the good man puts himself under
the direction of Intellect.

Of the good man it is true likewise that he does many things for the sake of
his friends and his country, even to the extent of dying for them, if need be:
for money and honours, and, in short, all the good things which others fight
for, he will throw away while eager to secure to himself the
καλὸν: he will prefer a brief and great joy to a tame
and enduring one, and to live nobly for one year rather than ordinarily for
many, and one great and noble action to many trifling ones. And this is perhaps
that which befals men who die for their country and friends; they choose great
glory for themselves: and they will lavish their own money that their friends
may receive more, for hereby the friend gets the money but the man himself the
καλὸν; so, in fact he gives to himself the greater
good. It is the same with honours and offices; all these things he will give up
to his friend, because this reflects honour and praise on himself: and so with
good reason is he esteemed a fine character since he chooses the honourable
before all things else. It is possible also to give up the opportunities of
action to a friend; and to have caused a friend’s doing a thing may be
more noble than having done it one’s self.

In short, in all praiseworthy things the good man does plainly give to himself
a larger share of the honourable. In this sense it is right to be Self-loving,
in the vulgar acceptation of the term it is not.

Chapter IX.

A question is raised also respecting the Happy man, whether he will want
Friends, or no?

Some say that they who are blessed and independent have no need of Friends, for
they already have all that is good, and so, as being independent, want nothing
further: whereas the notion of a friend’s office is to be as it were a
second Self and procure for a man what he cannot get by himself: hence the
saying,

“When Fortune gives us good, what need we Friends?”

On the other hand, it looks absurd, while we are assigning to the Happy man all
other good things, not to give him Friends, which are, after all, thought to be
the greatest of external goods.

Again, if it is more characteristic of a friend to confer than to receive
kindnesses, and if to be beneficent belongs to the good man and to the
character of virtue, and if it is more noble to confer kindnesses on friends
than strangers, the good man will need objects for his benefactions. And out of
this last consideration springs a question whether the need of Friends be
greater in prosperity or adversity, since the unfortunate man wants people to
do him kindnesses and they who are fortunate want objects for their kind acts.

Again, it is perhaps absurd to make our Happy man a solitary, because no man
would choose the possession of all goods in the world on the condition of
solitariness, man being a social animal and formed by nature for living with
others: of course the Happy man has this qualification since he has all those
things which are good by nature: and it is obvious that the society of friends
and good men must be preferable to that of strangers and ordinary people, and
we conclude, therefore, that the Happy man does need Friends.

But then, what do they mean whom we quoted first, and how are they right? Is it
not that the mass of mankind mean by Friends those who are useful? and of
course the Happy man will not need such because he has all good things already;
neither will he need such as are Friends with a view to the pleasurable, or at
least only to a slight extent; because his life, being already pleasurable,
does not want pleasure imported from without; and so, since the Happy man does
not need Friends of these kinds, he is thought not to need any at all.

But it may be, this is not true: for it was stated originally, that Happiness
is a kind of Working; now Working plainly is something that must come into
being, not be already there like a mere piece of property.

If then the being happy consists in living and working, and the good
man’s working is in itself excellent and pleasurable (as we said at the
commencement of the treatise), and if what is our own reckons among things
pleasurable, and if we can view our neighbours better than ourselves and their
actions better than we can our own, then the actions of their Friends who are
good men are pleasurable to the good; inasmuch as they have both the requisites
which are naturally pleasant. So the man in the highest state of happiness will
need Friends of this kind, since he desires to contemplate good actions, and
actions of his own, which those of his friend, being a good man, are.

Again, common opinion requires that the Happy man live with pleasure to
himself: now life is burthensome to a man in solitude, for it is not easy to
work continuously by one’s self, but in company with, and in regard to
others, it is easier, and therefore the working, being pleasurable in itself
will be more continuous (a thing which should be in respect of the Happy man);
for the good man, in that he is good takes pleasure in the actions which accord
with Virtue and is annoyed at those which spring from Vice, just as a musical
man is pleased with beautiful music and annoyed by bad. And besides, as
Theognis says, Virtue itself may be improved by practice, from living with the
good.

And, upon the following considerations more purely metaphysical, it will
probably appear that the good friend is naturally choice-worthy to the good
man. We have said before, that whatever is naturally good is also in itself
good and pleasant to the good man; now the fact of living, so far as animals
are concerned, is characterised generally by the power of sentience, in man it
is characterised by that of sentience, or of rationality (the faculty of course
being referred to the actual operation of the faculty, certainly the main point
is the actual operation of it); so that living seems mainly to consist in the
act of sentience or exerting rationality: now the fact of living is in itself
one of the things that are good and pleasant (for it is a definite totality,
and whatever is such belongs to the nature of good), but what is naturally good
is good to the good man: for which reason it seems to be pleasant to all. (Of
course one must not suppose a life which is depraved and corrupted, nor one
spent in pain, for that which is such is indefinite as are its inherent
qualities: however, what is to be said of pain will be clearer in what is to
follow.)