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2015LIBRARY

OF THE
UNIVERSITY"
or ILLINOIS

185
Ar4eEkBOHFS CLASSICAL LIBRARY.

THE

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

r)V

ARISTOTLE.THE

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

OF

ARISTOTLE.

TRANSLATED,

WITH NOTES, ORIGINAL & SELECTED; AN ANALYTICA1
INTRODUCTION; AND QUESTIONS FOR
THE USE OF STUDENTS.

BY E, W. BROWNE, M.A., PH. D.,

Eon. Fellow of King's College, London; and Canon of Wells,

LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.

1885.LONDON t

PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CFARINGr CROSS.TO THE READER.

In giving to the public this translation of the Nicoma-
chean Ethics of Aristotle, the Translator acknowledges the
obligations he is under to former versions. He has not
hesitated to adopt such portions of them as appeared to
h\m to convey accurately the meaning of the author, whilst
he; has entirely retranslated such as he thought failed in this
respect. Every passage, however, has been in all cases care-
fully compared with the original. The text generally fol-
lowed has been that of Cardwell, but Bekker s has been
also consulted, and his readings adopted wherever they
appeared preferable.

The notes are partly original, partly selected. It has been
the object of the Translator not to overburthen the text
with them, but only to give as many as he thought necessary
to render the subject intelligible, and to explain or illus-
trate such difficulties as were incapable of being removed
by translation. The Analysis and Questions, which are
added, were thought likely to be a valuable assistance to
the student.

It is hoped that this work will be found useful to that
numerous class of readers who, though unacquainted with
the language of ancient Greece, are anxious to study the
works of the best writers of antiquity in, as nearly as
I possible, their own words.

For such further information as is not' contained in the
notes, the reader is referred to the commentaries of Michel et,fv

TO THE READER.

the notes of Cardwell, the edition of the eighth and ninth
books by Fritzsch, Brewer's edition of the Ethics, Blakesley's
Life of Aristotle, the philosophical articles in the Encyclo-
paedia Metropolitana, Whateley's Logic, and Hitter's History
of Philosophy/ in which latter work will be found an able
and lucid analysis of the Ethics of Aristotle, as well as a
complete investigation of all the systems of the ancient
philosophers. The ingenious and able defence of the sophists
tn the eighth volume of Grote's History of Greece may
be advantageously studied with reference to the bearing of
their doctrines on the subject of ethical philosophy.

* Translated by A. J. W. Morrisoa.ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION.

Ethics. according to the theory of Aristotle, formed but a
subdivision of the great and comprehensiye jcience of poli-
tics. - Man is apoliticaLor social being; that science^TBSFe"
fore, wfiicirpforessed to investigate 1 the subject of human
good, would study the nature of man, not only as an indi-
vidual, but also in his relation to his fellows, as a member
of a family, and as a member of a state, or political com-
munity.

Aristotle, therefore, following out this view, divides poli-
tics into three parts : Ethics, Economics, and Politics strictly
so called. ^Ethics, therefore, or

good^jnust be the ground-work of the rest; families and
states are • composed of individuals; unless, therefore, the
parts be good, the whole cannot be perfect. The develop-
ment, therefore, of the principles of man's moral nature
must necessarily precede, and be an introduction to an
investigation of the principles of human society. This is the
place which ethical science occupies in Aristotle's system :
it is the introduction to politics, or the science of social
life.

, It is plain, from these considerations, that ethics, accord-
ing to Aristotle, form a subdivision of a great practical
subject; he does' not therefore consider it necessary to
examine intcTtHe^aEitract nature of good, but only35rpuriue
tb.e investigation so far as it relates to man. So utterly
ui^onnected with his subject does he consider any ideal or
ab&pliite standard of good, that he even denies that the
knowledge or contemplation of it can be in any way useful
the study of that good which falls within the province of
iman nature, and is therefore attainable by man. In this.
^eE as in manv other respects, the pra ifcical nature of his
a 2analytical introduction.

mind is strongly contrasted with the poetical idealism of his
great master Plato.

The foundation of Aristotle's system of ethics is .deeply
laid in his psychological system. On the nature of the
human soul the whole fabric is built up, and depends for its
support. According to our author, we are born with a
natural capacity for receiving virtuous impressions, and for
forming virtuous habits : and his conception of the nature
of this capacity is so high a one, that he does not hesitate
to term it "natural virtue." We are endowed with a moral
, sense (atfTdrjaic), a perception of moral beauty and excellence,
and with an acuteness on practical subjects (Seivonys), which,
when cultimted, is improved into ^povrjang (prudence or moral
wisdom). /From all these considerations, therefore, it is plain
that, according to Aristotle, virtue is the law under which
we are born, the law of nature, that law whiciifc if we would
attain to happiness, we are bound to fulfil. J Happiness,
in its highest and purest sense, is our "bemg's end and
aimand this is an energy or activity of the soul according
to the law of virtue : an energy of the purest of the capacities
of the soul, of that capacity which is proper and peculiar to
man alone ; namely, intellect or reason. ( Designed, then, as
man is for virtuous energies, endowed with capacities for
moral action, with a natural taste and appreciation for that
which is morally beautiful, with a natural disposition or
instinct, as it were, to good acts; virtue, and therefore
happiness, becomes possible and attainable. /(Had this not
been the case, all moral instruction would be useless.} That
for which nature had not given man a capacity would have
been beyond his reach ; for that which exists by nature can
never by custom be made to be otherwise.

But this natural disposition or bias is, according to Aris-
totle, a mere potentiality ; it is possessed, but not active,
not energizing. It '^necessary that it should be" directed by
the will, and thacthe will in its turn should be directed to
a right end by deliberate preference; i. e. by moral prin-
^cipleA From his belief in the existence of this natural
capacity, and this bias or inclination towards virtue, and
moreover from his believing that man was a free and
voluntary agent, Aristotle nece^sarily^oldaifee^ responsibility
of man. Man has power over his individual actions to dcANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION.

to abstain. By~repeated^ots.~habits are forme<Le&hep~o£-
?irtue or vice ; and, therefore^ for bis w^lejcbapaet^rwheii
l&raaed^£^^G^rts^for each act wbXcb' -cantriiutes to _ its
formation, man is^espensM^"'l!Tot that men. haye ^always
power over tbeir acts, wben tbeir character is formed; but
what be contends for is, tbat tbey bave power over them
whilst their moral character is in process of formation ;
and that, therefore, they must, in all reason, be held respon-
sible for the permanent effects which their conduct in par-
ticular acts has produced, and which they must at every
step have seen gradually resulting.

,	% Jn the solution of that part of

this question which has not already been answered, the
practical nature of/Aristotle's -mind is exhibited in an
eminent degree. It has been seen that it is a habit, that
it is based upon tng natural capacities of the human soul,
that it is formed and established by a voluntary agent
acting unc^r the guidance of deliberate preference or moral
principle. But to these conditions it is also necessary to
add, whatsis the end or object at which the habit is to aim.
. Experience, then, that great practical guide in human

-that^end^li^ S^iMuctte^
instances showsl^	excess and defect;

not, indeed, an absolute mean, but-^^fative' "

one relative to the internal moral constituEio?!, and to the
externa! circumstances and condition, of the moral agents^
Of this relative mean, each man must judge for himself By
the light of His conscience, and his moral sense, purified by
moral discipline, and enlightened by education. The moral
philosopher can only lay down general principles for man's
guidance, and each individual man must do the rest. The
casuist may profess to be more particular, he may profess to
lay down accurate special rules of conduct, which will meet
every individual case, but his professions will be unfulfilled :
he will, from the very nature of the subject, which, lieing a
moral one, will not admit of mathematical exactness, fail of
making morals a definite and exact science. There must,
and will always be, room left for the moral sense and prac-
tical wisdom of each individual, to exercise in each case of
moral action its judicial functions. If, in this case, or in
any other, you deal with men in this way, you are dealing.ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION.

with them as children ; and, therefore, according to
totle's views, as being incapable of perfect moral action.

The discussion of these virtues or mean states, both moral
and intellectual, forms, it will be found, a very important
portion of this treatise. We shall find, amongst them,
"many virtues which belong to man in his political rather
than in his individual character :—-magnificence, that virtue
of the rich, which to an Athenian mind appeared nearly
. akin to patriotism —the social qualities, which we should
scarcely in these days formally elevate into the rank of
virtues, but which, nevertheless, practically, we value almost
as highly, and which contribute so much to the happiness of
every-day life justice, not only that universal justice which
implies the doing to every one according to the laws of Grod
and man, and therefore is synonymous with virtue, But aTso
that particular virtue which is more especially exercised by
one who is intrusted by the constitution of his country with
administrative or executive authority:—and, lastly, friend-
ship, that law of sympathy, and concord, and love bef^te
the good and virtuous, clearly and inseparably connected with
.—nay, based upon, originating in, and springing out of—a
reasonable self-love, which is not, indeed, strictly speaking, a
virtue, but indispensable to virtue and human happiness.

Friendship is a subject on which the , mind of Greece
especially loved to dwell. It pervades many of her historical
and poetical traditions ; it is interwoven with many of her
best institutions, her holiest recollections. In one of its
forms, that of hospitality, it was the bond which united
Greeks in one vast family, as it were, even in times of bitter
hostility. No Greek, therefore, could have considered that a
moral. philosopher had fully accomplished his task, and
finished his work, if the discussion of this subject had not
formed part of his treatise. And when we find that Aris-
totle places friendship so high, as to say that its existence
would supersede and render unnecessary even justice, and
that the true friend loves his Mend for that friend's sake,
and for that motive alone, it seems to approach in some
degree to the Christian rule of charity, which teaches us to
love our neighbour as ourselves,—to that love which, based on
principle, and not merely on instinct, is on divine authority
said to be " the fulfilling of the law."ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION.

ix

In the practical consideration of each individual virtue,
Aristotle necessarily treats of moral and intellectual virtue
separately from each other; but we must not suppose, for
that reason, that he thought they could exist separately.
According to liis view, moral virtue implies the due regula-
tion of our moral nature, with all its appetites, instincts, and
passions; and tins state only exists when they are subordi-
nate to the dominion and control of the reasoning faculties.
Again, the reason does not act with all the vigour of which
it is naturally capable, unless our moral nature is in a well-
regulated state. Hence the different parts of human nature
reciprocally act and react upon each other, every good reso-
lution carried into effect, every act of self-control and moral
discipline, increases the vigour of the pure reason, and renders
the highest faculty of our nature more and more able to
perform its work. Again, the more powerful the reason
becomes, the fewer external obstacles, such as vice presents
to its energies, the intellect meets with, the more effectually
does it influence the moral nature, and strengthen, confirm,
and render permanent the moral habits. Thus continence is
gradually improved into temperance; and if human nature
were capable of attaining perfection, man would attain to
that ideal standard which Aristotle terms heroic virtue.

But this is above human native, and is impossible to
attain, just as its opposite, brutality, is never found, so long
as human nature continues in its normal condition, but only
in cases where bodily mutilation, or moral perversion, or the
influence of barbarism, has so far degraded the human being,
that he may be considered as having entirely ceased to be
a man.

There k another important subject connected with morals
of which it was absolutely necessary for Aristotle to treat
fully. Pleasure, as a motive to action, had been so inter-
woven with other pliilosophical systems, that the disciple of
the Aristotelian ethical philosophy could not be content with-
out the place which it ought to occupy being accurately
defined. Pleasure, then, had been held by Plato and others
to be a motion or a generation, and therefore of a transitory
or transient nature : this Aristotle denies, and affirms it to
be a whole, indivisible, complete, perfect, giving a perfection,
a finish, as it were, to an energy ; being, as he says in orderX

ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION.

to illustrate its nature, what tlie bloom is to youth, But if
so, pleasure must be active, energetic; it cannot be simply?
rest: and yet the testimony of mankind, if we observe what
they propose to themselves as pleasure, would be in favour
of the notion of its being rest, in some sense or other. How,
then, were these apparent inconsistencies to be reconciled ?
In the following manner. It is rest as regards the body,
but energy as regards the mind. It is an activity of the
soul—not a mere animal activity. This distinction enables
us to mark the difference between tx*ue and false pleasures,
Those which are consequent upon the mere activity of our
corporeal nature are low and unreal; those which attend
upon the energies of our intellectual nature are true and
perfect, and worthy of the dignity of man.

But as happiness is an energy or activity of the soul
according to its highest excellence, and that this must be
that which is the characteristic property of man, namely,
pure intellectual excellence, it is evident that contemplative
happiness is superior to every other land, and constitutes the
chief good of man. Although happiness must be sought fo*
and arrived at by the formation of habits of practical virtue,
still all other virtues must be pursued with a view to th|
final gratification of our intellectual nature ; the end of the
cultivation of all virtue is to fit us for the pure and unmixed
enjoyment of contemplation. Contemplative enjoyment is
the most perfect, most permanent, and most independent of
external helps and appliances.

If, then, after all that has been said respecting moral
practical virtue, contemplation is the end and object of man,
his chief good, his highest happiness, why has Aristotle said
so much of the practical nature of human happiness 1 why
has he attributed so much importance to the formation of
the moral character 1 why lias he left the subject of contend
plative happiness to be briefly discussed at the veiy conclu*
sion of his treatise ?

The answer to these questions is plain. Until the moral
character is formed, man is unfit, not only for the enjoyment,
but also for forming a correct conception and appreciation of
the happiness which is derived from contemplation. Place
before his eyes in the commencement of his search after
happiness intellectual contemplation, as the end at which heANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION.

*<p aiming, and he would neither be able to understand its
nature, nor estimate its value. It is by the gradual perfec-
tion of our,, moral nature, and by this method only,; that we
are brought into that state in which the intellectual principle
is able to act purely and uninterruptedly. The improvement
of our moral and intellectual faculties will go on parallel to
one another. Every evil habit conquered, every good habit
formed, will remove an obstacle to the energy of the intellect,
and assist in invigorating its 'nature. Begin with contem-
plation, and we shall neither find subjects for it, of a nature
sufficiently exalted to insure real happiness, nor be in a
condition to derive happiness from such subjects, if suggested
to us. < Begin with moral training, and we shall attain" to
higher capacities for intellectual happiness, whether derived
from the contemplation of abstract truth, or of the perfec-
tions and attributes of the Deity.a) The Christian philoso-
pher will easily understand the value of this method of
teaching; for he knows that it is revealed to us, that in
divine tilings moral training is the way to intellectual culti-
vation, that the heart is the way to the understanding—" If
any man will do God's will, he shall know of the doctrine
whether it be of God." (St. John vii. 17.) It is plain that^
in this respect, the way which the heathen moralist has
pointed out to the attainment of happiness is that which is
most in accordance with the principles of human nature,
and therefore with the laws of Him who is both the author
of revelation, and of the moral constitution of man.

It only remains now to point out how Aristotle connects
the subject of ethics with that of which he considers it a
subordinate division ; namely, politics. The idea of a state
implies a human society united together upon just, moral,
and reasonable principles. These principles are developed
and displayed in its institutions ; its end and object is the
greatest good of the body corporate ; and, therefore, so far
as it can be attained consistently with this primary end, the
greatest good of each family and individual. ) Now, on the
morality of the individual members, the morality, and there-

* We may see from this how far the Aristotelian theory of happiness
j and man's highest good harmonizes with that of Plato, and, at the same
i time, how far more practical is the method which Aristotle recommends
i for the attainment of it.zii

ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION.

fore tlie welfare and happiness, of the body depends ; for
j.n a state, i. e. a free state, the source of power is ultimately
the people, on the moral tone of the people, the character of
the institutions framed by their representatives must depend.
Hence a state must recognize the moral culture and educa-
tion of the people as a duty. Private systems of education
may, doubtless, possess some advantages, such as their superior
capability of being moulded and adapted to the particular
circumstances of individual cases, but still they are inferior
to a public one, in uniformity, in the power of enforcing their
authority, and in producing great and extensive results.
As, therefore, the elements of moral virtue must be incul-
cated and implanted by moral education, the individual has
a right to demand, that provision be made for this by well-
regulated public institutions, and, in order to attain such
institutions, the science of politics or social life must be
investigated or systematized. But besides, in order even to
secure the advantages of private education, whatever these
advantages may be, it is necessary that every one who would
conduct and administer such a system efficiently should study
the general political principles of education, and thus endea-
vour to fit himself for legislating respecting them. ! On all
accounts, therefore, the study of morals is not complete,
unless that of politics is superadded, and the latter study
should be pursued, not only by the statesman, but by the
private citizen!

The above general outline of Aristotle's ethical system,
in which the several parts are designedly not presented to
the view in the order in which he has treated them, but
displayed in their relative bearings upon each other, will, it
is hoped, be sufficient to prepare the mind of the student
for the accurate analysis of each chapter separately which
follows.xia

BOOK I.

Introductory.—A question lies at tlie very threshold ofN
the investigation; namely, whether there is any chi6l_govxT
(swrnmum bonurri), and if there is, whether it be, or can be
brought within the reach of the capacities of man. Having
"answered these questions in the affirmative, Aristotle pro-
ceeds to show what its nature and essence is. That all, or
nearly all, agree in calling it happiness, is clear; but this is
not enough; it must be defined, its properties analyzed, its
nature explained. After, therefore, examining and seating
what opinions have been generally held respecting it, as
well popularly as by philosophers, he proceeds to define and
explain his own idea respecting it, and to defend the accu-
racy of his views by comparing it with those of others.
Certain questions arising out of the method of discussion
which he has pursued, but of no practical importance,
such, for example, as the well-known saying of Solon, are
briefly alluded to ; and respecting them he comes to no
very satisfactory conclusion. And, lastly, the theory which
he has adopted leads him to state, in a few words, the
general principles of man's psychical bonstitution.

1.—1.	Every art, system, course of action, and deliberate
preference, aims at some good.

Hence the good is defined "that which all aim at."

2.	There are differences of ends; namely, energies and
works.

3.	4.' The ends of the master-arts are more . eligible ..than
the ends of those subordinate to them.

5 This is the case, even though the end of the master*
art is an energy, and that of the subordinate art a work.

II.—1. There is some end of human action which is
desired for its own sake.

3,, 4, 5. It is the end of that which is the master-science
, in the highest sense ; i. e. the political.

The political science proved to be the chief science by
, several reasons and exam pies.

2. The.knowledge of the end useful.xiv

ANALYSIS OF

[book i

6„ The subject of ' tlie end " belongs to moral, and there-
fore to political philosophy.

III.—1, 2. "We must not expect too great accuracy in
subjects of moral investigation.

3.	These subjects having to do with contingent matter,
the conclusions arrived a 5 must be of the same kind.

4,	5. The student, therefore, must be one who is willing
to be content with this method of proof, and therefore must
be an educated person.

6.	He must, therefore, not be young, because the young
are inexperienced in the affairs of life.

7.	By the word young is meant young in character.

6.	The object of this treatise is not knowledge, but
practice.

IY.-—1. What is the aim of the political science, and the
highest of all good 1

2.	j^"agree 4n calling it happiness, but differ as to its
definition.

3,	4. Popular and philosophical theories on the subject
are at variance.

Certain notions respecting it, including that of the " idea,"
enumerated.

4.	Aristbtle proposes to consider the most reasonable.

5,	6. Of the two methods of arguing; namely,—The
synthetical and analytical; Aristotle chooses the latter, for
the following reasons :—

C&.: Things are known in two ways: (1.) Absolutely;
(2.) Relatively to ourselves.

In morals we must begin with the things known to our-
selves j i. e. the phenomena, and work backwards from facts
to causes ; sometimes it is even sufficient to know the facts
"without the causes.

7.	The student of ethics should listen to the advice of
Hegiod.

—1. The majority derive their notions respecting hap-
piness from the lives they lead.

2.	These are four :—(1.) The vulgar. (2.) The active.
{3.) The contemplative. (4.) The money-getting.

3.	The vulgar consider that happiness consists in sensual
pleasure.

This is the life of the brute creation.CHAP. VI.J

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

4, 5. The active think happiness is honourable distinction.

This is not the chief good,

(1.) Because it resides in the honourers rather than in

the honoured.

(2.) Because it is sought for the sake of virtue.

6.	Is virtue then the chief good 1

No, for a man may possess virtue, and yet not live an
active life.

7.	The contemplative life is omitted, and reserved for the
last book.

8.	The money-getting think wealth is happiness.

(1.) This life does violence to our natural constitution,
(2.) Money is useful as a means, but is not an end.

YI.—1. The chief good is not the ideal good.a

Aristotle apologizes for denying the truth of Plato's theory.

2.	Plato did not allow the existence of ideas of things in
which we predicate priority and posteriority.

The good is predicated in these.

3.	A universal idea could be predicated in only one
category.

The good is predicated in all the categories.

4.	Of things under one idea there is but one science ; of
goods there are many sciences.

& The ideal good, and the good of which it is the idea,
must be in their essence identical.

6.	The theory, therefore, of the Pythagoreans and of
Speusippus is far more reasonable.

7,	8. It may be objected to Aristotle's argument, that
goods are of two kinds : those "per se," and those "propter
alia" Now Plato's theory applies to the former.

9,10. To this it may be answered—(1.) That even goods,
"per se," do not come under our definition. (2.) If -ihe
species contain under it no individuals, the theory is foolish.

11. Why then is the term "good " applied to all goods ?

Probably from analogy.

* In the original, two words of very similar meaning are made use of,
namely, lUa aiid eldog. Now idka is the original archetypal form, which,
according to Plato, existed from all eternity : eUoq is the existing form
or resemblance to the idea, which is visible to us. Although the eternal
nature of the Platonic icka forbids us to call it an abstract idea, yet the
relation between idea and eldoQ is precisely that which subsists between
the abstract and concrete.ANALYSIS OF

[book 1.

12—16. After all, if there was an :ideal good, it woiild be
practically useless.

— VII.—1—3. Happiness has been shown to be the chief
good, as being the end of the master-science.

It is now proved to be so, because it is the end of all
human actions.

4, 5. There are three kinds of ends, of which the last is
that which is sought for its own sake alone, and happiness
is this.

6, 7. Happiness is also the chief good, because it is self-
sufficient.

8.	Its definition arrived at in the following manner :—

Happiness is the virtue of man, qua man.

We shall discover man's virtue by seeing what his epyov is.

9,	10. His 'epyov must be something peculiar to him.

This is the practical life of a being which possesses reason

11. Such a being may be either obedient to reason, oi

have it and use it.

We must, therefore, take that which is in energy, i. e.
activity.

12—16. The work of a good man, therefore, is an energy
according to virtue; if there are more virtues than one,
according to the best virtue.

Lastly, must be added the condition " in a perfect life."

Hence the definition of happiness :—" An energy of the
soul according to the best virtue in a perfect life."

VIII.—1. Aristotle confirms the correctness of his defini-
tion of happiness by comparing it with the opinions of his
predecessors.

2.	Goods have been divided by the Pythagoreans into
external goods, goods of the body, and goods of the souL
The goods of the soul have been always considered the
highest.

3.	Aristotle defines happiness as a good of the soul.

4.	The happy man has been said to live well, and to
do well.

The definition of Aristotle is almost identical.

5—8. Others have said that either one virt ie or all virtue
is happiness.

Aristotle says that happiness is net only virtue, but a
virtuous energy.chap, x.]	ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.	nil

9, 10. A fourth class have made pleasure happiness.

Aristotle makes happiness in its essence, and "per se*
pleasaut.

11. The energies of virtue, in fact, unite in themselves all
the qualities enumerated in the Delia a inscription.

12—14. External goods cannot make one happy, but it
is impossible, or at least not easy, to j perform virtuous ener-
gies without a certain quantity of them.

I IX.—1. Is happiness got by learning, or habit, or exer-
cise, or by the allotment of God, or by chance 1

2.	Whether it is the gift of God, does not belong to the
present inquiry.

3.	It is at any rate certain that it can be attained by
learning and care.

\ 4—6. It cannot come by chance : (1.) Because nature
effects her work by the best means. (2.) From its very
definition. (3.) It is the end of the political science.

7.	Brutes cannot be called happy.

Nor children except from hope.

8.	"Why (Hog reXetog is added.

X.— 1. The necessity of adding the condition kv
re\do) leads to the consideration of Solon's saying that we
ought to look to the end of life.0,

2.	The saying of Solon may be taken in two senses :—

(1.) A man is happy when he is dead.

(2.) He may then be safely said to have been happy.

The first of these involves an absurdity.

3,	4. The second leads to further questions :—

(1.) May not a man be called happy whilst alive ?

a In adding the condition lv (3it{j reXsi^ Ito his definition ot happiness,,
Aristotle seems to have been animated by an earnest desire to invest hap-
piness with a property of permanence, fixedness, and stability. He wished
to represent the happy man as beyond the reach of any liability to change.
He saw that this was impossible in the case of human beings, but there
is nothing unphilosophical in assuming a theoretical standard of this
kind, even though practically unattainable, any more than there is in
physics in laying down the lawsvof matter and motion. In morals we are
well accustomed to recognize the principle that perseverance to the end
in a course of obedience is required in order to obtain our final reward.
" When the righteous turneth away from his righteousness, all his right-
eousness that he hath done shall not be mentioned,'' &c.—Ezek. xviii.
And again, " He that endureth unto the end. the same shall be saved." —
Matt. x.rrffi	ANALYSIS OF ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [booki.

(2.) Are not tlie dead affected by the fortunes of tlie
living 1

5. Wibh regard to the first of these, it is absurd to be able
to say that a man has been happy, and yet not to be able to
Bay so when he is actually enjoying that happiness.

6—13.	But is external prosperity a part of happiness t
It is, but only to a certain extent; for virtuous energies are
very independent of it, and more permanent than anything.

14.	Therefore, whilst a happy man energizes, he may be
pronounced happy, qua man.

XI.—1,	2. As to the second question, Aristotle decides
that a man may be said to be unhappy on account of the
misfortunes of his descendants.

3, 4. Or he may really be affected by them in a slight
degree, in the same way as horrors, not acted, but related,
affect us at the theatre.

5. But still they cannot make the happy miserable, or the
miserable happy.

XII.—1.	Philosophers divided goods into honourable,
praiseworthy, and cwdfiELc.

Happiness cannot be a fivvcifxig, because dwafiuq can be
abused.

2—4. It cannot belong to the class of things praised,
because praise implies reference to a higher standard.

There cannot be a higher standard than the chief good.
f 5. Therefore happiness belongs to things honoured.
' XIII.—1—4. As happiness is an energy of the soul
according to virtue, we must know, (1) what virtue is;
(2) what the soul is.

5, 6. The soul is divided first into two parts, the rational
and the irrational.

7—9.	The irrational into the vegetative and the appe-
titive.

10—14. The rational soul into the properly rational, and
that which obeys reason.

According to another principle of division, tto part obe-
dient to reason may be considered as belonging w xhe irra-
tional soul.

15.	Virtue is therefore twofold :—

(1.) Intellectual, belonging to the rational soul.

(2 ) Moral, belonging to that which obeys reason.Introductory.—Aristotle lias prepared tlie student
contents of this book, which consist of an inquiry into?!^P|
origin and nature of moral virtue ; firstly, by defining hapl
piness as an energy of the soul according to virtue ; and,
secondly, by dividing the virtues into moral and intellectual,
in accordance^wlth-^iKHa^TiQTgH division of the human soul.
The consideration of the moral virtues takes precedence of
that of the intellectual, because the formation of moral
habits, and the consequent acquisition of moral virtue, must
be the first step to the unimpeded energy-oi^4;he-4ntellect,
and therefore to the attainment of intellectual virtue. It
will be observed, that, as the foundation on which to build-
up his moral system, Aristotle assumes the existence in
man of certain capacities for virtue, which he denominates,
at the conclusion of the sixth book, ^vowcr} apery (natural
virtue). These he conceives may be imjDroved by education
and matured by habit, and thus become " virtue proper.'^
Thus, although man does not by nature possess virtuous
habits, or even the commencements of these habits, still he is
capable of receiving virtuous impressions by instruction, and
of forming habits by performing acts of virtue and obedience.
Thus, according to Aristotle, " Yirtue is the law of our
nature, under which law we are born." The order in which
the questions connected with the subject of moral virtue are-
treated of, is

(1.) The means by which virtue is attained.

(2.) Its nature and definition.

(3.) An induction of particular instances.

(4.) Certain practical rules.

1.—1.	Intellectual virtue is principally (though noi en-
tirely, for there is such a thing as " genius") produced and
increased by teaching.

2,	3. Moral virtue, as its etymology implies, by habit.

Moral virtue is not innate—

(1.) Because that whiah is innate cannot be changed
by habit,

hxx	ANALYSIS OF	[book h.

4.	(2.) In tilings innate, the capacities exist in us prior to

tlie energies; in virtue, the case is the reverse.

5.	(3.) The practice of legislators bears testimony to the

truth of this statement.

6.	(4,) Two opposite effects, virtue and vice, are due to

one and the same cause, hut natwxd causes can-
not produce opposite effects,

7—9. Hence we must prefer energies of a certain quality
as on them the character of the habits depends,

II.—1,	2, Assuming for the present that moral acts must?
be done according to the dictates of right reason, and reserv-
ing that subject for the sixth book, let us consider the nature^
of the acts themselves.

3, 4. Warning the student again not to expect too much
exactness in ethics.

5—7. Looking at the question practically, we may ob-
serve-—

(1.) That acts, which avoid excess and defect, product
virtue, whilst excess and defect destroy it,
8, 9. (2.) Those acts which produce virtue are in their
turn produced by virtue.

III.—1.	Pleasure and pain are the tests of moral habits
being formed or not, because moral virtue is conversant with
pleasures and pains. This position is proved in the following
way:—

(1.) Because men commit sin for the sake of pleasure,
and abstain from what is right through dread of
pain.

2.	JTrom this first reason Aristotle infers the justice of
Plato's remark on the importance of a sound early education.^

3.	(2.) Virtue is conversant with aefcions and feelings, and!

these are attended with pleasure and pain*

4.	(3.) Punishments cure by pain, and cures are effected

by contraries.

(4.) Through the pursuit of pleasures and pains, habits
are made better or worse.

5.	Hence virtue has been thought by some to be drrddua* |

6.	(5.) Pleasure and pain are, after all, the final causes of

choice and aversion,

7.	(6.) Our ideas of pleasure and pain have from child-

hood become as it were ingrained in our nature.CHAP, VI.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

8. (7.) "We make, more or less, pleasure and pair the rule
of our actions; and on these our habits depend.
9,10. (8.) Virtue is shown in struggling with difficulty,
and nothing is so difficult to resist as pleasure.

IV.—1.	It may be asked, what is meant by saying that
we become just by performing just actions; are we not
then already just, as in the case of the arts ?

This question is answered—

2.	(1.) By observing that this is not the case in the arts,

for a man is not a grammarian, unless he speaks
grammatically, because he understands the rules
of grammar.

3.	(2.) Because the cases are not parallel; as in the arts

we only consider the excellence of the produc-
tion, in morals we look to the character and
motives of the person.

... The three requisites, then, for a moral act are
(1.^ Knowledge,

(2.) Deliberate preference on its own account,
(3.) Fixedness and stability.

4—6. A man, therefore, is called virtuous if he acts on
virtuous principles; and to do this requires practice.

7. The masses, however, think that theory without prac-
tice will be sufficient to make them virtuous.

V.—1—4.	"What, then, is the genus of virtue 1 In that
division of the soul in which moral virtue resides, there are
only three properties; namely, passions, capacities, and
habits.

5, 6. Now virtue and vice are not passions.

(1.) Because we are not called good or bad for our pas-
sions.

S2.) We are not praised or blamed for them.

3.) Virtue implies deliberate preference, passion does
not.

(4.) We are said to be moved by our passions, but dis-
posed by virtues or vices.

7.	They are not capacities.

(1.) For the first and second reasons given above,
(2.) Because our capacities are innate.

8.	Therefore virtue must be a habit.

VI.—1,	2, What is the differentia of virtue t**ii	ANALYSIS OF	[book in.

"All excellence makes that of which it is the excellence
good, and also its epyov.

This is seen to be the case in the arts.

Therefore, the case must be the same with moral excel-
lence, i. e. virtue.

3,	Now, everything continuous and divisible implies
more, less, and equal.

4,	5. The equal is the mean between the other two, and
is either absolute or relative.

6.	Now, every scientific man will seek the relative mean,
and avoid the extremes.

7.	If this is the case in art and science, a fortiori, virtue
will do the same.

8.	In actions and feelings, there are an excess, a mean, and
a defect, and the mean is relative.

9.	Again, we may be wrong in many ways; but there is
only one right way : now, this right way is the mean, and
the wrong ways are the excess and defect.

1 0- Virtue, therefore, is " habit founded on, and exer-
cising deliberate preference, in a mean relative to ourselves,
defined by right reason, and according to the definition of a
man of moral wisdom."

11. Hence, in its essence, virtue is a mean, but if consi-
dered with reference to the standard of excellence, it is the
highest extreme (ctKporrjg).

12—14. It must be remembered, however, that some
actions and feelings do not admit of a mean, and are there-
fore in all cases blame-worthy.

VII.—1. This chapter contains a catalogue of particular
examples illustrating the general principle.

2.	(1.) Courage is a mean, on the subject of fear and con-

fidence, between rashness and cowardice.

3.	(2.) Temperance a mean on the subject of some plea-

sures and pains, but especially pleasures, between

intemperance and a nameless extreme.

4.	(3.) Liberality on the subject of money, between prodi-

gality and illiberality.

5.	(4.) Magnificence, only on matters of great expense,

between vulgar ostentation and meanness.

6.	(5.) Magnanimity, on the subject of great honours

between empty boasting and little-mindedmsss.CHAP. IX.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

xxiii

7—9. (6.) A nameless virtue, on the subject of small ho-
nours, between ambition and the absence of it.
10. (7.) Meekness, between irascibility, or passion, and
insensibility to the feeling of anger.
11—16. (8.) Three several virtues ; namely—

(a.) With respect to truth; truthfulness, between arro-
gance and false modesty.

(b.) "With respect to "the pleasant" in amusement,
graceful wit, or easy pleasantry, between ribaldry
or buffoonery and clownishness.

(c.) "With respect to " the pleasant " in the intercourse
of life; friendship, between flattery and the being
over-complaisant and moroseness.

17—19. (9.) Two mean states in the feelings.

(a.) Modesty, between bashfulness and impudence.
(6.) Indignation, between envy and malevolence.

VIII.—1—4.	The extremes are in opposition to each
other, and the mean to both.

5, 6. But the extremes are more repugnant to each other
than each of them is to the mean.

7-—9. This may take place either from the nature of the
means themselves, or from the constitution of the person.

IX.—1,	2. Aristotle recapitulates briefly the description
of moral virtue, and states that therefore it is difficult of
attainment. Hence he gives three useful practical rules for
arriving at the mean.

3.	(1.) Go farthest from that extreme which is mos*

opposed to the mean.

4.	(2.) Struggle against that to which you have the strongest

propensity.

5.	(3.) Beware of pleasure.

6—8. As it is difficult to hit the mean exactly, slight
deviations are pardonable. No exact casuistical rules can be
laid down : our moral sense must be our guide, t-

BOOK III.

Introductory. — The principle of all moral action is
irpoctLpeaic, what is commonly termed.__moral choice^aiL.
the deliberately preferring one act or one course~of"actionANALYSIS OF

[book iii.

to any other, on sound moral grounds, under the direction
of right reason. It is this which determines the moral
quality of an act; it is the principal part of the differential
property which distinguishes the habit of virtue from an-
other. Hence Aristotle now proceeds to treat of this sub-
ject, and other subjects immediately and intimately connected
with it.

Now of these, the first, and most important, as lying at
the very threshold of the investigation, is the,freedom of the
^human..will. On the establishing of this doctrine depends
the whole question of human responsibility, and yet it is a
doctrine which Aristotle could not assume at once, because
views had been held respecting it which required refutation.
Socrates had held that all the virtues were sciences ; there-
fore, that vice was the result of ignorance ; that no one sins
contrary to knowledge ; and therefore, that vice is involun-
tary. Plato held that virtue was voluntary, because the
natural bias of the will was towards good, but that a vicious
state was an unnatural one—a morbid action, as it were, and
therefore involuntary.

Aristotle agreed with Plato so far as to maintain that a
^bias towards virtue is the normal condition of the 'will. He
saw, also, that when habits are formed, they are often beyond
bur -power, because they have become, a second nature ; and
that the reason why we are responsible for them is because
we are responsible for the original formation of them; but
still he believes that the will is necessarily free.

He supports this view by many arguments, and amongst
them, by the common-sense view of the case, as shown in the
practice of legislators. His argument is somewhat of the
same kind as that of Bishop Butler (Analogy, Part I. c. vi.),
where he says, that whatever our abstract opinion may be
respecting the doctrine of necessity as influencing practice,
there can be no doubt that men deal with one another as if
they were free agents, nor could civil society hold together
on any other principles. Educate a child in the principles
of fatalism, and however delighted he may be at first with
his freedom from responsibility, he would soon discover the
error in which he had been brought up, immediately he came
abroad into the world, and would do somewhat very soon,
for which he would be delivered over into the hands of civil
justice.CHAJ?. I.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

XXV

The third book commences with an analysis of the nature
of the EKotaLov and aMvaiov;*:^Lristotle then proceeds to
discuss the subject of Tpoatpe&is.''' ' Next, as ^irpocupeaiQ is
subsequent to the deliberative process, deliberation is next
treated of; and lastly, the subject of the will. Thef?e points
occupy the first five chapters ; and here Michelet considers
the first part of the treatise to terminate. He divides the
Ethics into three parts; the first of which treats of the
summum bonum ; the second, of the virtues in detail; the
third, of the instrumental to virtue.

1.—1.	The consideration of the voluntary and involuntary
necessary.

(1.) Because voluntary acts are praised or blamed ,

involuntary acts pardoned or pitied.

(2.) Because it will be useful to legislators to do so.

2.	Involuntary acts are of two kinds—

(!•) ra fitq, (2.) ra di ayvoiav.

By filcua is meant that of which the principle or cause is
external.

3.	4. There are also acts of a mixed nature. For example,
those which we do from fear of greater evils.

5, 6. These acts most resemble voluntary acts, because the
principle of action is in the agent.

7, 8. But abstractedly they are perhaps to be considered
involuntary.

These acts are, according to circumstances, praised, blamed,
or pardoned.

9.	There are some acts which nothing should induce us
to do.

10.	But it is difficult to decide in many cases what we
ought to prefer to do, and still more so to abide by our
decisions.

11.	The points of difference between these acts and volun-
tary and involuntary acts further considered.

12.	Everything which we do for the sake of the pleasant
and the honourable is voluntary.

13.	Acts done through ignorance (Si ayvoiav) are either
non- voluntary or involuntary.

14.	If repented of, they are involuntary.

' 15, 16. Ignorance of the principles of justice and expe-
diency (ayvowv) is always held as voluntary and inexcusablexxvi

ANALYSIS OF

[book iit.

17—20. Cases of ignorance brought forward which are
pardonable if followed by repentance.

21. The voluntary is defined as that of which the principle
is in the agent knowing the circumstances of the act.

22—24. That acts done under the influence of passion and
anger are not involuntary, proved by six reasons.a

II.—1. Deliberate preference (irpoatpeaLg) must be con-
sidered, because it is the moral principle which determines
the moral quality of an act.

2.	It is a species of the voluntary.

3.	It is not desire—

(1.) Because irrational beings participate in desire and

anger, but not in irpocdpemQ.

(2.) Because the incontinent man acts from desire, and
not from TTponipemc; the continent from irpoai-
perjLQ, and not from desire. Therefore they can be
evidently separated.

(3.) They are often opposed.

(4.) Desire, and not irpoalpsvig, has to do with pleasure
and pain.

4.	Still less is it anger, for the same reasons.

5.	It is not volition, though it approaches very near it.
(1.) Because we wish for impossibilities.

(2.) We wish things which are not in our own power.

6.	(3.) Volition is for the end, and not the means.

It is not opinion simply,

7.	(1.) Because opinion is of things eternal and impossible.
(2.) Its quality is determined by truth and falsehood,

not by virtue and vice.

It is not some particular opinion, because

a The following table will explain the division of acts adopted in this
chapter:—

Voluntary Acts.	Involuntary.	Mixed. .

1	_J_ _!_

1	I	F I 111!

Done Done through By Through Praised. Blamed. Pardoned. Not

knowingly, ignorance of constraint, ignorance
the principle.	of the fact.

of the fact.

par-
doned

Repented of
(Involuntary).

Not repented of
(Non-voluntary)-CHAP. III.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

xxvii

8.	(1.) Moral character is determined by our 7rpoaipeffis.

9.	(2.) We deliberately prefer to take a thing or not; we

form an opinion as to its nature.

(3.) Tlpoaipetng is praised for the rightness of its object;
for its truth.

10.	(4.) We form opinions respecting subjects we do not

know.

(5.) Some persons forpa good opinions, but exercise a

bad 7rpoaip£<jiQ.

II.	The definition, therefore (nominally), of the object of
7rpoaipE(TiQ is a voluntary act which has been previously the
object of deliberation.

III.—1.	The object of deliberation is that about which a
reasonable man would deliberate.

2, 3. No one deliberates about things eternal, or abou4.
those which come to pass by nature, necessity, or chance.

Nor about everything human, if it is not brought about
by our own agency.

Nor about the exact sciences.

But besides the three principles of causation—nature,
necessity, and chance—there is a fourth; namely, mind or
intellect.

4, 5. The object of deliberation, therefore, is that which
comes to pass through this fourth cause, which is in our
power, and which is uncertain as to its event.

6.	We also deliberate about means, not ends.

7.	If there are more means than one, deliberation deter-
mines which is the better.

If only one, it determines how it can be done by this, and
^o it goes backwards by an analytical process until it either
meets with an impossibility, or the first cause, which is the
first step in the constructive process.

8.	It is, therefore, a species of investigation.

9.	10. We deliberate sometimes about the instruments,
sometimes the use of them.

11, 12. Deliberation and deliberate preference differ in
that we are not obliged after all to choose the means re-
specting which we have deliberated, but if we do choose them,
we are exercising ?rpoaipemQ, and therefore its definition is
the deliberate desire of things in our power.xxviii

ANALYSIS OF

[BOOK III.

IV.—1,	2. Volition is of the end, but is its object the
good or the apparent good ?

3.	The good man wishes for the real good. The bad man
for that which he thinks good.'

4.	The case is analogous to that of the senses.

5.	The above constitutes the principal difference between
the good and the bad man.

6.	Tn determining what they ought to wish for, the masses
are deceived by pleasure.

V.	1,2. If the end is the object of volition, and the means
the object of deliberation and deliberate preference, the acts
respecting them must be voluntary; now with these acts vir-
tuous energies are conversant, therefore virtue is voluntary.
Therefore vice is voluntary; for, if we can do, we can
abstain.

If vice is not voluntary,

3. (1.) We must deny that man is the origin of his
actions.

4, 5. (2.) The principles would be in our power, and the
acts which result from them would not be.

The practice of legislators confirms Aristotle's view.

6.	They even punish ignorance itself if self-caused.

7.	Especially ignorance of the law.

8.	If it be objected that the guilty person could not pay
attention enough to understand the law, the answer is, that
vice has caused the inability.

9—11. Moreover, vicious acts, which are in our power,
produce vicious habits, and therefore we are responsible for
them.

12, 13. (3.) Bodily faults which are in our power are
blamed, and no others; therefore vice, being
blamed, must be considered as in our power too.

14.	If it be objected that all aim at what they think good,
but have not power over the conception which they, form of it,
the answer is, if we are the causes of our habits, we are also
of our imaginations.

15.	If it be objected that vice is involuntary, because it is
owing to ignorance of the end, the answer is, that in that
case virtue is involuntary.

16.	Besides, if the notion we form of the end is due to
nature, still the means are in our power.C2TAF. 7III.J

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

17, 18. If virtue is voluntary, vice must be so.

19, 20. Still, habits, when formed, are not so much in our
power as the acts were.

VI.—1.	Courage is a mean state on the subjects of fear
and confidence.

Fear is defined " The expectation of evil."

2.	Now some evils, such as disgrace, we ought to fear.

The brave man can have nothing to do with these.

3,4. Others, again, we ought not to fear; as poverty, &c. ;
still he who is fearless of these evils is not termed brave,
except metaphorically.

5. The brave man, therefore, has to do with the most ter-
rible of all things, i. e. death.

6—8. Yet not with all kinds of death, but only death in
battle.

Still the brave man will be fearless in sickness or in a
storm at sea, but not from the same cause that sailors are.

VII.—1,	2. Things terrible are of two kinds.

(1.) 'Yirep avdp<jJ7rov. (2.) Kar' avdpojirov.

Every man of sfense will fear the former.

The latter differ in magnitude.

3.	And may be feared too much or too little.

4.	The brave man fears or feels confidence at what he
ought, as he ought, when he ought, and for the right motive.

5.	This motivie is to Kakov.

He who is in the extreme of fearlessness may be called
avaXyrjrog.

7.	He who is in the extreme of confidence, Spcurvg.

8.	He who is in the extreme of fear, deiXog.

9.	10. The brave man, the coward, and the rash, are all
conversant with the same things.

11. Suicide is the act of a coward.

VIII.—1—4.	There are five other forms of courage.

(1.) Political courage.

The motive of this is not the abstractedly honourable, to
KaXov; but honourable distinction, tijuj}.

5—7. Courage arising from experience.

The difference between this and real courage is exempli-
fied by a comparison between the conduct of regular troops
and that of a native militia.

8—10. (3.) Courage arising from anger.XXX

ANALYSIS OF

[book hi.

This is not for the sake of the right motive, but in obe-
dience to the dictates of an irrational passion..

11—13. (4.) The courage of the sanguine.

Their courage is based upon like motives with that of the
experienced.

In unexpected perils it often fails.

14, 1-5. (5.) The courage of the ignorant.a

This is even worse than that of the sanguine; for when
they find they are deceived in their estimate of the danger,
they fly.

IX.—1.	Courage has more to do with fear thar. confi-
dence.

2, 3. It is painful and more difficult to attain than tem-
perance.

Not but that its end is pleasant, although the means to
that end are painful.

4, 5. The fact that the brave man feels pain, not only does
not diminish, but rather increases his reputation.

6.	It is plain, therefore, that it is not possible to energise
with pleasure in all the virtues.	*

7.	Though mercenaries are less brave, still they may be the
best fighters.

X.—1.	Courage and temperance are first discussed, be-
cause they are the virtues of the irrational part of the soul.

Temperance is a mean state on the subject of pleasure.

2, 3. Pleasures are of two kinds.

(1.) Those of the soul.

(2.) Those of the body.

4—10. Temperance belongs to the latter.

But not to those of sight, hearing, or smell, except acci-
dentally, nor of taste, except in a slight degree.

11.	It has to do with the pleasures of touch.

Touch belongs to us not so far forth as we are men, but
so far forth as we are animals, and therefore is the lowest of
the senses.

12.	Even the more liberal pleasures of touch are those
which are excluded from those with which temperance and
intemperance are conversant.

XI.—1—3.	Desires are of two kinds.

a "o toXq aWoig afiaQia fxev Spacrog, Xoyicfibq fit okvov 0spei.-^
Ihuc. ii. 40. See als:> Herod, vii. 49.chap, xii.]	ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

(1.) Common and natural.

(2.) Peculiar and acquired.

In the former, errors are seldom met with.

In the latter, they are frequent.

The intemperate are in excess under all circumstances.

If the desires are wrong, they delight in them.

If the desires are innocent, they delight in them more
than they ought.

4, 5. The difference between temperance and courage con-
sists in the relation which they respectively bear to pains.

For example, a man is called brave for bearing pain, but
temperate for not feeling pain at the absence of pleasure.

6.	The character which is in the defect as to pleasure has
no name, because it is never found.

7,	8. The chapter concludes with the character of the
temperate man.

XII.—1. Intemperance seems more voluntary than coward-
ice, and therefore more blameworthy.

(1.) Because fear gives a shock to the natural character,
and throws it off its balance.

2,3. (2.) Though cowardice as a habit is more volun-
tary than intemperance, still particular acts of
cowardice are less voluntary.

4. The term ctKoXaala, because of its etymological meaning,
is applied to the faults of children metaphorically, because
desires and children require KoXacric.

5—7. Since desires, if not controlled, will increase, the
part of the soul in which they reside should be obedient to
reason, and be in harmony with it.

BOOK IV.

Introductory.—This book requires but few words by way
of introduction. It consists of a continuation of that sub-
ject which Aristotle touched upon briefly in outline in the
second book, and commenced in detail in the sixth chapter
of Book III. The virtues investigated here are magrn-
^ftcenGe,...liberality, magnammity, and tyiXorijuda in the best
acceptation oftKe"term, meekness, the three social virtues.xxxii

ANALYSIS Or

OK IV.

and the sense of shame, which Aristotle decides is to be
considered as a passion or feeling, rather than a virtue.

The second book of the Rhetoric, and the characters of
Theophrastus, should be compared with the discussion of the
moral virtues in this book.

1.—1.	Liberality is a mean on the subject of possessions or
property.

Property is that, the value of which is measured by money,

2.	The extremes are illiberality and prodigality.

The epithet prodigal is sometimes applied to the intem-
perate.

3.	This application of the term is incorrect.

4.	Liberality has more to do with giving than with
receiving.

(1.) For the former is the use of money, the latter only
the way of acquiring it.

(2.) It is more honourable to do than to receive good.

(3.) To abstain from receiving is easier than to give;
and those who abstain from receiving are rather
praised for justice.

6, 7. The motive of liberality is to kciXov.

The liberal will give to proper objects, and in proportion
to his means.

8.	The liberal will not receive from improper sources, nor
be fond of asking favours, nor be carelessly extravagant.

9.	Though the liberal man will not look overmuch to his
own interest, still his profuseness will be proportioned to
his means.

10.	Those who inherit wealth are most liberal.

It is not easy for the liberal man to be rich.

11.	Therefore men sometimes upbraid the unfairness of
fortune.

12.	The liberal differs from the prodigal.

Kings cannot be prodigal.

13.	The liberal differs from the prodigal in receiving.

The relation of the liberal man to the feelings of pleasure

and pain.

14.	Definition of the extremes.

15.	Prodigality shown to be better than illiberality.

16.	18. Prodigals are often guilty of meannesses in order
to supply resources for their extravagance, and are general!}
intemperate.CHAP. III.]

AMSfcOTLE'S ETHICS.

xxxiii

19. Illiberality is incurable.

20—24. Various forms of illiberality. -

25. Illiberality is worse than prodigality, and is the ex-
treme to which men are most liable.

/II.—1. Magnificence is appropriate ex2)enditure in great
matters.

2.. Propriety depends—

1.)	On the relation of the expense to the expender.

2.)	On the object of the expense.

(3.) On the quantity expended.

3.	The defect is meanness, the excess, bad taste and vulgar
profusion.

4.	Magnificence implies in some degree science.

5.	The motive is to kclXov.

6.	The magnificent man will a fortiori be liberal.

Magnificence is of two kinds :—(1.) Public. (2.) Private

7—12. The poor man cannot be magnificent.

13, 14. The extremes described.

These two habits, though vicious, are neither hurtful, nor
very disgraceful.

\/III.—1. The nature of magnanimity in the abstract dis-
covered from considering it in the-concrete.

The magnanimous man is " He who, being worthy, esti-
mates his own worth highly."

2.	He whose worth is low, and who estimates it lowly, is
a modest man.

3,	4. The extremes are the vain man and the little-
minded.

5.	The magnanimous man, as to his merits, is in the ,
highest place, as to his estimate of himself, in the mean,

6.	He is conversant with honour.

7.	He must be a good man.

8 Magnanimity is an ornament of the virtues.
. The magnanimous man will accept honour from the good
with moderate gratification, but not from others.

9.	In success or failure, he will behave with modera-
tion.

10,	11. Instances of good fortune are thought to ?ontribute
to magnanimity; but without virtue men may be supercilious;
but they cannot be magnanimous.

12—19. The character of a magnanimous man will disvxxiv

ANALYSIS OF

[book rv

play itself in his views and conduct as to all tlie virtues,
and even in Ms gait, voice, and manners.

20,21. The little-minded and vain are not vicious; but
rather, the former idle, the latter foolish. The little-minded
are the worst of the two, and much opposed to the mean
state.

IY.—1. There is a nameless virtue, the object-matter oi
which is small honours.

It bears the same relation to magnanimity which liberality
does to magnificence.

2.	It is nameless, because we use the term (j>iXoTijj,ta some-
times as praise, sometimes as reproach.

3.	As the mean is as it were vacant, the extremes appear
to contend for the middle place.

Y.—1. Meekness is a mean state which has anger for its
object-matter.

Its extremes are irascibility and. insensibility to anger.

2.	The characteristic of the meek is propriety as to the
feeling of anger under all circumstances.

3.	Insensibility to anger is blameworthy and slavish.

4.	The excess cannot exist in all the categories, as the
evil would then destroy itself.

The different varieties of irascibility are—

5.	8. The choleric, the bitter, and the ill-tempered.

Irascibility is most opposed to the mean.

Although a precise rule cannot be laid down, still slight
transgressions are not blamed.

YI.—3. In the social intercourse of life, there is a virtue
which, though nameless, may be called friendliness.

It may be defined as friendship, minus the feeling of
affection.

1, 2. The characters in the extremes are—

(1.) "Ajoegkoi, men-pleasers, or the over-complaisant.
(2.) AvgtkoXol, the cross and quarrelsome.

4, 5. This virtue is true politeness, or goodrbreeding; it
avoids giving pain, it aims at giving pleasure. The polite
man will regulate his behaviour towards persons of different
ranks by a regard to propriety.

He will only inflict pain for the sake of giving greater
pleasure.

6.	He who aims solely at giving pleasure is cipeo-Kog.CHAP. IX.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

He who does so from selfishness is k6\ci£.

YII.—1, 2. The virtue which has truth for its object-
matter has no name, but it may be called truthfulness

3.	The excess is arrogance, the defect false modest/)-.

The former is more blameable than the latter.

4,	5. Truthfulness does not mean truthfulness in con-
tracts, for that is justice, but in all words and actions, even
those which are of slight importance.

The truthful rather inclines to the defect than the excess,
as being better taste.

6, 7. Arrogance for the sake of honour, not so blameable
as for the sate of money.

8.	The falsely-modest have more refinement; than the
arrogant.

9.	False modesty sometimes proceeds from arrogance.

VIII.—3.	In periods of relaxation, the social virtue.is
graceful, or polished wit, or easy pleasantry (ebrpairEXia).

1.	2. The extremes are buffoonery and clownishness.

4.	Tact peculiarly belongs to the mean habit.

The difference between polished wit and the reverse may
be seen in the wit of the old and new comedy.

5.	The evrpcnreXog will jest, but he will jest as a gentleman
ought, and not so as to pain or disgust any one. He will
have tact and good taste.

6.	The buffoon will sacrifice himself or anybody to a
joke.

The clownish will neither jest himself, nor be amused with
the jests of others.

IX.—1.	The sense of shame is rather a passion or feeling,
than a virtue.

Its physical effects are somewhat like those of fear.

2.	It is especially suitable to youth.

An older person ought to do nothing to be ashamed of.

3.	The feeling of shame is no proof of a man being good.

Hypothetically it may be a worthy feeling.

Because sliamelessness is bad, it does not follow that the
sense of shame is a virtue.

4.	In like maimer, continence, properly speaking, is not a
virtue, but a kind of mixed virtue.

cKjr*Vi

BOOK V

Introc uctory.—The analysis of a subject by contemplating
its ideal nature is a course by no means suited to the prac-
tical turn of Aristotle's mind. He prefers, therefore, gene-
rally speaking, to consider yirtues, not in the abstract, but
in the concrete, as the quality of an act, or as the charac-
teristic of a moral agent. In this way he proceeds to treat
of justice and injustice. He first investigates the nature
Df just and unjust actions, and of the just and unjust man,
and thus arrives at his definition and description of justice
and injustice. Of course, it is plain, from the nature of
•jaoral habits, that the knowledge of the principles of one
contrary, namely, justice, conveys to us an acquaintance
with the principles of the other contrary, injustice.

ISTow a man is termed unjust, for two reasons :—Firstly,
being a transgressor of the law, whether that be the
written or the unwritten; and, Secondly, as being unequal
or unfair, as taking more of good, and less of evil, which
comes to the same thing, than he has a right and title to.
Hence injustice, and therefore justice, is of two kinds:
'1) a habit of ph&dience t^JLaw ; (2) a. habit of e^slity.

Now, as law, in the"most comprehensive acceptation of
Jhe term, implies the enactment of all the principles of
virtue which axe binding on mankind as members of a
social community (which, be it remembered, Aristotle con-
siders their proper normal condition), the only difference
between universal justice (1) and universal virtue is, that
the habit of obedience to the fixed principles of moral recti-
tude is, when considered absolutely, termed virtue, when
considered relatively to others, justic^.

This universal justice is not thgjustice which Aristotle
considers in this book; as of course it forms the subject-
mattf r of his whole treatise (at least the whole of that
division of it which treats of moral virtue), if we take into
consideration the additional condition of." relation."

Jra^tkular^justice, which he does" investigate, is of two
kinds, distributive and corrective. ^Tlie former is a virtuousrook v.] ANALYSIS OF ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. xxxvii

habit, which, strictly speaking, can only be exercised by man
in his capacity as a free citizen intrusted with political func-
tions, either legislative or executive, for it deals with the
distribution, according to merit, of the public rewards and

as this idea of it would lead us at
first sight to suppose. For, in the first place, in the free
states of Greece, every citizen was, to a certain extent, in-
trusted with these functions, which is not the case under the
modern system of political institutions ; and, in the second
place, analogically, the same principles, mutatis mutandis, will
regulate our conduct in the distribution of rewards and
punishments, towards children, dependants, and so forth.

Besides, it is scarcely conceivable in how many instances
a man is called upon to act as a judge, and to exercise his
judicial functions as a divider and distributor of honours and
rewards, of censures and of punishments, and thus to keep
in mind the principles which Aristotle here lays down of
equality and impartiality.

When we contemplate justice as one of the divine attri-
butes, it is distributive justice to which we allude. God will,
and always has, dealt with mankind on principles of justice,
which are in accordance with, and proportioned to, the
position amongst created beings in which he has himself
placed him. He is the distributor of rewards and punish-
ments to every man according to his works, the punisher
of the ungodly, the rewarder of them that diligently seek
him. He doubtless weighs well, with that strict and un-
erring justice of which Omniscience alone is capable, the
circumstances and privileges of each individual, according to
that analogy which is implied in the following words of
inspiration :—" To whom much is given, from him much
shall be required."	\ x

The second division of ^Aicular justice may also be
viewed in two lights. /Firstly, as that habit by which the
state, either by criminal or civil processes, corrects the in-
equalities which unjust conduct produces between man and
man; and, Secondly, as the habit, the observance of which
prevents individuals from violating the principles of equality
which we are bound to observe in our d' alings or intercoarse
with each other, j

punishments of a state/
 

But the exercise of this virtue isxxxviii

ANALYSIS OF

[book

We may illustrate tlie nature of corrective justice by
reference to our own judicial system in the following way :—
In civil actions, such as for assault, seduction, &c., tlie amount
of tlie injury inflicted is estimated in the form of damages.
The defendant is presumed to have more than he ought, and
the plaintiff less by this amount, and the equality is re-
stored by the former paying to the latter the damages
assessed by the jury. In criminal cases—the state, and not
the person against whom the offence has actually been com-
mitted, is considered the injured party. A certain diminu-
tion has taken place in the public security of life and
property, and the balance is restored by the penalty, either
as to person or property, which the law inflicts.

— There still remain to be considered the principles of com-
mutative justice; but these Aristotle has not laid down
quite so clearly as he has those of the other two divisions.
He, evidently, as far as can be seen from the fifth chapter,
c6nsiders it as_ a branch of corrective^jnafcice, but, at the
same time, as regulated in some degree by the principles of
distributive justice also. (Equality is maintained by an
equivalent payment for the commodities exchanged or pur-
chased : and, therefore, arithmetical proportion is observed,
as in corrective justice; but this equivalent is estimated,
and the commodities and the parties compared, according to
the law of geometrical proportion.

There is one point which requires observation as presenting
an apparent difficulty. How is it that Aristotle considers
natural justice as a division of political justice, whereas it
might be supposed that the immutable principles of jus-
tice were implanted in, and formed a part of man's nature,
antecedently even to any idea of his social condition as a
member of political society? The answer to this ques*
tion is^that the natural state of man is his social conditionj
Under any other circumstances, it would be in vain to look
for the development of any one of his faculties. The his-
tory of the human race never presents man to us except in
relation to his fellow-man. Even in savage life, the rude
elements of civil society are discoverable. If we could con-
ceive the existence of an individual isolated from the rest of
his species, he would be a man only in outward form, he
would possess no sense of right and wrong, no moral srnti«CHAP. III.]

AKISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

xxxix

merits, no ideas on tlie subject of natural justice. The
principles of natural justice are doubtless immutable and
eternal, and would be the same had the man never existed;
but as far as man is concerned, the development of them
must be sought for in him as we find him ; that is, in his
social condition, and no other.

In^the tenth chapter Aristotle treats of equity, the prin*
ciples of which furnish the means of correcting the imperfec-
^iens~of lawL These imperfections are unavoidable, because,
from the nature of things, the enactments of law must be
universal, and require adaptation to particular cases.

V	I.-—1, 2. Justice is roughly defined as the habit from
which men are apt to perform just actions and entertain
just wishes.

Injustice is the contrary habit.

3, 4. The same capacity and science comprehends within
its sphere contraries, but a habit cannot be of contraries.

And if we know the things connected with a habit, we
know the habit itself.

5—7. Therefore, if we know what oclkov means, we know
what dhcaioj' and cLicatoo-vvr) mean.

Now, ahiKov implies the unlawful and the unequal.

Therefore, the just is the lawful and the equal.

8—11. The object of the law is to direct and enforco
virtue.

12—14. Therefore, justice, which has to do with law, is
perfect virtue, considered not absolutely, but relatively.

V	II.—1—5. Besides this universal justice, there is a parti-
cular justice also, which is violated when the law is broken
for the sake of gain.

It differs from universal justice as a part from a whole.

f), 7. The consideration of universal justice is dismissed.
^ 8, 9. Particular justice is of two kinds.

(1.) Distributive of the honours, &c. of the state.

(2.) Corrective, in transactions between man and man.
j Transactions are twofold—voluntary and involuntary.
* III.—1. Justice implies equality.

The equal is a mean between more and less.

Therefore the just is a mean.

2. It is conversant wit!; four terms at least, two persons
and two things.ANALYSIS OF

[book v.

3—7. Distributive justice pays respect to the relative
merits of the persons, and in it geometrical proportion is
observed.

\| IY.—1—3. Tlie province of corrective justice, is transac-
tions of all kinds.

In it no respect is paid to persons.

The object of it is to remedy inequalities of loss and gain.

Under these terms are included all cases of wrong ; as the
doer of a wrong may be considered as a gainer, and the
injured party a loser.

The proportion observed is arithmetical.

4.	The corrective just is a mean between loss and gain.

5.	The judge is a living personification of the principle.

6.	7. From his remedying inequality according to the rule
of arithmetical proportion, arises the etymology of the term
IUkcuov.

8—10. The method of determining the mean explained
and illustrated.

Y.—1. The Pythagoreans were wrong in considering reta-
liation (cWXwc) as justice.	v

That it is not distributive justice, is self-evident.

It is not corrective justice, because in many cases it would
be unjust.

2.	By retaliation (mr avaXoyiav) civil society is held
together.

3.	This proportion is attained by what Aristotle terms
diametrical conjunction.

And equality is produced by observing the relative pro-
portion between persons and things.

4.	This cannot be effected without a common measure.

5—9. This common measure is demand, or its substitute
money.

10—12. It is the least fluctuating standard of value, and
a pledge that we can at any time get what we want.

14, 15. Justice differs from all the other virtues in the
following respect; that they are mean states, whereas in
justice to Ukcllov is itself the mean.

In conclusion, Aristotle defines justice and injustice.

YI.—1, 2. It does not follow that a man is unjust be-
cause he commits an unjust act.

k / 3. Political justice is that which exists between membersCHaP. IX.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

of a free community, and this, as well as abstract justice, is
tlie object of Aristotle's investigation.

7. Justice in the cases of master and slave, father and
child, is not the same as political justice ; but that between
husband and wife most resembles it.

J VII.—1. Political or social justice is of two kinds,
v (1.) Natural. (2.) Legal.

The former is everywhere the same, the latter is arbitrary

2, 3. They are wrong who hold that all things just are
matters of law, and that there is no natural unchangeable
principle of justice.

4.	Legal justice depends upon agreement, arid varies in
different countries, like their measures of corn and wine.

5,	6. Before a thing is committed, it is unjust (clIlkov);
when committed, it is an act of injustice (adkrjjjia) ; so like-
wise, a just act is hiKaumpayrifjLa, the correction of an unjust

!'act, ^IKCUbiJia.

VIII.—1,	2. The justice or injustice1' of an act is deter-
mined by its being voluntary or involuntary.

3—6. A voluntary act is that which is done knowingly,
not by compulsion nor by accident.

7.	Voluntary acts are done from deliberate preference, or
not.

8.	9. If a hurt takes place accidentally, it is an accident. ^ /

If without wicked intent, it is an error.

10.	If knowingly, but without previous deliberation, it u
an unjust act. '	^

11,	12. If a man acts on Trpoalpevtc, he is an unjust man.

13. He who acts justly on Trpoaip^tg is a just man.

IX.—1.	Can a man be injured with his own consent ?

2.	The same question may arise as to being justly dealt with.

3,	4. Is he who has suffered an injury always necessarily
injured 1

5. Can a man injure himself?

* 6—8. These questions are answered at once, by stating,
that, in order that a man may be injured, the condition is re-
quisite, that the hurt should be inflicted against his will.

The case of the incontinent man, who often harms himself,
constitutes no objection.

9.	Does he who has awarcieci too great a share, or he who
receives it, commit the injury 'Ixiii	ANALYSIS OF ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [book v.

.Does lie wlio awards too little to himself injure himself ?

10. The second question is already answered by the fact
that the harm he suffers is not against his will.

11—14. To the first the answer is, that it is the distri-
butor, and not the receiver, who acts unjustly.

The receiver does unjust acts, but does not act unjustly

He who decides, through ignorance is unjust in a certain
sense.

15, 16. People are apt to think that the practice and
knowledge of justice are easy.

. This is not the case.

_ 17,18. ' For in estimating the justice or injustice of an
action; we must look not to the act, but the habit.

X.—1,	2. How is it if equity differs from justice, that it as
well as justice is praiseworthy 1

y 3—7. Although they differ,, they are not opposed; the fact
being, that equity corrects the errors of law, which errors
are unavoidable, because the general enactments of the law
will not alw.ays apply to particular cases.

8. The equitable man is one who does not push the letter
of the law to the furthest or the worst side, but is disposed
to make allowances.

XI.—1,	2. Although it has been already proved that a
man cannot injure himself, Aristotle adduces additional
arguments in support of this position.

In universal justice he cannot, because to do what the
law forbids is an offence against the law, not against himself.

For example, suicide is an offence against the law.

3—5. Four reasons are also given to prove that a man can-
not injure himself in particular injustice.

6, 7. Is it worse to injure or to be injured ?

Both are bad ; but to injure is the worse, as implying de-
pravity ; but, accidentally, to be injured may be worse.

8, 9. Metaphorically a man may be said to injure himself
because we may imagine a kind of justice subsisting between
the two parts of his soul.zliii

BOOK VL

Introductory.—In this book Aristotle has two objects in
view : to treat of the intellectual virtues, and to show the
relation in which right xeason a^ands to moral virtue. Ac-
cording to the definition whichfhe gave of moral virtue, the
intellect is the directing and\ governing power, to whose
dictates and suggestions the other parts of man's nature
must be obedient, and right reason and the possession of an
intellectual virtue (typovrjone) has the province of deciding the
relative mean, which constitutes the characteristic of virtuous
habits.\

Now/referring to the division of the soul in the first
bookrwe find .that one part ispurelv rational. "TPEe oBject-
matter of this part of the soul is truth : truth in necessary,'
and truth in contingent matter. The habits of mind which
contemplate truth in necessary matter are, that which
takes cognizance of principles (vovq), and that which takes
cognizance of deductions from principles {kTriarrifirj). These
two combined make up (rocjna^ which implies a perfect know
ledge of scientific truth. In contingent matter, the habit
which takes cognizance of moral truth is (ppovrjviQ, and that
which operates upon truth as related to productions is texvV*

These, then, are the five intellectual habits which Aristotle
considers it necessary to discuss as connected with the
subject of ethics. Of course, it must not be supposed that
this discussion will embrace the whole of Aristotle's psycho-
logical system, as this must be sought for in his Treatise
on the Soul.

I.—1—3. Since we ought to choose the mean, and since
right reason determines what that mean is, we must investi-
gate the subject of right reason.

4. The soul has been supposed to consist of two parts :
the rational, in which the intellectual virtues reside; the
irrational, which is the seat of the moral virtues. The
rational part is subdivided into the eTnar-qfxovLKbv^ which con-
templates necessary matter, and the AoyicrriKov, which con-
templates contingent matter.xliv

ANALYSIS OF

[book vi.

By XoyKT-riKov Aristotle means deliberative, for no one
deliberates respecting necessary matter.

Eight reason must be the virtue of one of these parts
In order, therefore, to see what it is, we must ascertain what
is the epyov of each.

II.—1,	2. There are three principles or functions of the
soul which influence moral action and truth.

These are sensation, intellect, and appetite.

Now sensation is the origin of no moral action. The
origin of moral action is 7rpoaipeaiq, which is made up of
opE^ig and Xo'yog. If, therefore, the action is virtuous, the
' opeltQ must be right, and the \6yog true.

Therefore truth is the epyov of the reasoning or delibera-
tive part.

3.	It is evident that truth is the epyov of the scientific
part.

4,	^ Practical intellect, and not pure intellect, is the
motive principle of moral action.

6. Nothing past is the object of deliberate preference.

III.—1.	There are five habits by which the soul arrives at
truth,—art, science, prudence, wisdom,a and intuition.

2.	Science is conversant with things eternal, immutable,
and is acquired by learning.

3.	We learn by means of induction and syllogism.

To know a subject scientifically, we must not only know
facts, but also the logical connection between them, and the
first principles from which they are derived.

4.	Therefore science is " a demonstrative habit." But in
order to make the definition complete, all those other parts
of it must be added which are given in the Later Analy-
tics, I. 1, 2.

TV.—1, 2. Contingent matter may be either made or
practised.

Therefore there must be two habits conversant with con-
tingent matter ; namely, a practical habit joined with reason,
and a productive habit joined with reason.

a Although ao(pia is sometimes translated science, and doubtless it
does imply that knowledge of abstract truth which is implied by that
term, I have preferred, on the whole, translating it wisdom, because wis-
dom is used by old English authors in the same way in which (rofia is
used by the Greeks, to express skill in the arts.—See Exodus xxxvi. 1.CHAP. VII.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

The latter of these is art.

3.	Art is conversant with three processes : production,
contrivance, and contemplation as to the mode of contriving
and producing.

4.	A relation subsists between chance and art.

Art is defined "a habit of making, joined with true reason."

V.—1.	According to his common practice, Aristotle inves-
tigates what prudence is, by considering it in the concrete.

The prudent man is one who is apt to deliberate respecting
that which is his interest.

2. The matter of typovijcrig differs from that of k^i(jTY]fiy\.

Prudence, therefore, is a true habit joined with reason,,
and practical, having to do with the subjects of human good
and evil.

4.	This definition is illustrated by the examples of Pericles
and'others, and also by the etymology of aoxpfwcrvrr).

5.	It is clear that intemperance destroys typovrfcriQ, although
it may not pervert our ideas on scientific subjects.

Prudence differs from art.

6.	(1.) Because in prudence there are no degrees of excel-

lence, in art there are.

(2.) Because in art voluntary error is better, in pru-
dence worse.

Prudence, finally, must be something more than a mere
habit joined with reason; for such habits can be forgotten,
prudence cannot.

VI.—1.	There must be a habit which takes cognizance of
those first principles from which science draws its conclusions.

It cannot be science, for that is a demonstrative habit.

It cannot be art or prudence, because they are conversant
with contingent matter.

2. It cannot be wisdom, because wisdom demands demon-
stration.

Therefore it must be vovg (intuition).

VII.—1.	In the arts, by the term wisdom {oro^La) we
mean skill.

But there is a general sense of the term, as well as this
opecial one.

2, 3. Wisdom is-the most accurate of all knowledge.

It knows the principles, and the facts deduced from them.

It is, therefore, intuition ancf science combined together.xlvi

ANALYSIS OF

[book vi.

It surpasses political science or prudence, (1) inasmuch, as
the subjects with which it is conversant are superior to man.

(2.) Because its suojects are invariable.

(3.) Because, in a certain sense, even brute animals may
be said to be prudent.

4, 5. "Wisdom is superior to the science of social life, be-
cause, though man may be superior to all other animals, still
there are many other things more divine than man.

Wisdom, therefore, is science, combined with intuition.

Hence Anaxagoras, Thales, &c., are called wise, but not
prudent.

7.	Prudence must have a knowledge of particulars as well
as of universals.

8.	Nay, particulars may possibly be even more important
than universals.

VIT-I.—1. Political prudence and prudence are the same
habit, but they differ, in that the object of the former is the
good of the state, that of the latter the good of the individual.

2. There are various species of prudence, which are best
exhibited in the following table :—

Prudence.

Individual prudence, Economic. Political,
(properly termed I
prudence).	_|

Legislative. Administrative,
(properly called
political;.

Deliberative. Judicial,

3, 4. Prudence properly relates to our own affairs, and hence
politicians are sometimes called busy-bodies, But still the
happiness of the individual is so intimately involved with
the good of his family and his country, that we cannot be
devoted to the one to the exclusion of the others.

5, 6. Prudence is not easy to acquire; in proof of which
we may adduce the fact that young men may become
but not easily typovifioi. Besides, the possibility of error is
twofold,—in the universal and the particular.CHAP. XI.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

Prudence is not science «; because science is conversant with
universals, prudence with particulars.

These particulars are not the first principles from which
scientific conclusions are deduced, of which vovq takes cogni-
zance, but (toward) the last results at which we arrive after
deliberation, which are perceived by common sense. There-
fore prudence is opposed to intuition.a

IX.—1.	Prudence implies deliberation, which is a kind of
investigation.

Good deliberation is not science ; becaoe no one investi-
gates what he knows.

2.	It is not happy conjecture; for this is quick, whereas
deliberation requires time.

It is not, therefore, sagacity.

3.	It is not opinion.

It is a correctness; not of science, because in science
there can be no error, and therefore no correctness.

Nor of opinion; because the correctness of opinion is
truth.

4.	It is a correctness of diarota, not simply, but of the
intellect pursuing a deliberative process.

5—8. In what, then, does correctness of deliberation
consist 1

1.)	The goodness of the end.

2.)	The propriety of the mean.

(3.) The sufficiency of the time.

9. Hence Aristotle derives his definition of ev€ov\ia.

X.—1.	Intelligence is not identical with science or opinion;
for if it were, as all men are capable of acquiring science
and forming opinions, all men might be intelligent; but
this is not the case.

2—5. It is not conversant with the objects of science,
but with those of prudence.

It differs from prudence, in that prudence dictates and
prescribes, intelligence judges and decides.

XI.—1.	Candour. (yyujfjLq) is the correct decision of the
equitable man.

Fellow-feeling (o-uyy vw/xr?), the correct discriminating can-
dour of the equitable man.

a The apxal, or principia sciendi, are those first principles which are
incapable of demonstration. The principia agendi are {Vxara, or ths
last results of deliberation.3lvi1i

ANALYSIS OF

lBOOK VI.

2—4. Ev^ouXta, gvvegiq, yvujfjLifr and vovc, or aicrdrj-Gig
(which, here means practical common sense, the habit which
takes cognizance of the practical extremes), are the practical
habits, and all tend to the same point, and are usually found
combined in the same person. As the practical habits seem
not to be the result of teaching, but rather of observation,
they have been thought natural gifts.

5.	This view is corroborated by the fact that they seem
peculiarly to belong to certain periods of life.

6.	Hence we ought to pay attention to the sayings of the
old, even though undemonstrated; because experience has'
sharpened their powers of observation.

XII.—1. A question might arise as to the utility of
wisdom and prudence; for

(1.) "Wisdom does not contemplate the means of human
happiness.

2.	(2.) If prudence is merely knowledge, that alone will

' not give us virtuous habits.

3.	(3.) Prudence is useless to whose who already possess

virtue, and also to those who have not acquired
it; for they can listen to the instructions of those
who have.

(4.) It seems absurd that prudence, the inferior, should
dictate to wisdom, the superior.

4.	To these doubts and questions, it may be answered—
(1.) That these virtues, because they are virtues, would

be eligible for their own sake, even if they pro-
duced no effect.

(2.) They do produce an effect, as being the formal
cause of happiness.

5.	(3.) Man's tpyov is accomplished by means of prudence

and moral virtue.

6, 7. (4.) Yirtue makes the deliberate preference correct;

but the acts in which the moral principle is
developed are directed by some other faculty.

8.	This faculty is detvorrjQ (cleverness). If its aim is bad,
it becomes iravovpyta (craft).

9.	It is not prudence, but is improved and educated
into prudence.

Now, when we act morally, we always act upon a syl
iogism.chat . xiiiJ	ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.	xlix

Our major premiss is—Such and such a thing is the end;
oar minor—This act is such and such a thing.

Now, prudence supplies the middle term ; and yet no one
but the good man, whose moral vision is not distorted by
depravity, can discern it.

Therefore virtue and prudence are inseparably connected.

XIII.—1. Now, as prudence is to cleverness, so is natural
virtue to virtue proper, i. e. perfected and matured.

2.	Natural virtue exists in children, but without intellect
(vovc) ; it is blind, and may stumble and fall.

Add vovc, and it becomes virtue proper.

3,	4. As virtue proper cannot be formed without pru-
dence, Socrates and others supposed that the virtues were
prudences. They were partly right and partly wrong. They
thought the virtues were simply intellectual processes. Aris-
totle says they are joined with reason.

5. Prudence, therefore, and moral virtue, are inseparable,
but when we say this, we mean virtue proper, for the
natural virtues are separable.

Aristotle again repeats his former answers to Questions (1)
and (2), and answers Question (4), by saying that prudence
prescribes and dictates, not to wisdom, but for the sake of it.

BOOK VIL

Introductory. — According to the division adopted by
Michelet, ^ristotle here commences the third part of his
treatise ; jhamely, tliat~ which treats of the instrumentals to
^virtue,-—tjj) to this point he has contemplated the virtues,
both moral and intellectual, theoretically as perfect, and as if
mankind Vere capable of attaining moral and intellectual
perfection. ) This is, of course, the most philosophical way to
investigat^/ the moral laws of man's nature, as well as the
physical—laws by which the material universe is governed
But before the results to which we arrive can be reduced to
practice, they, in both cases, require to be modified by facts
and by experience.

Now, whether man can or cannot attain to perfect virtue,
there can be no doubt that if he aims at happiness, he muatANALYSIS OF

[book vii

endeavour to do so. He must labour to form imperfect
habits of virtue in his onward course towards the acquisition
of perfect virtue. He must earnestly strive to improve
them day by day, and thus gradually approach nearer and
nearer to the standard of absolute perfection, which is coinci-
dent with the idea of perfect virtue. Now, in order to/fchig,
he must strive to form habits of self-control; Tie jnust
struggle against the obstacles which the infirmities of his
natural constitution place in his way ; he must master as
well, as he can his passions, which, by their strength and evil
bias, lead him astray from the right path.

The imperfect habit of self-restraint which man will thus
form, and which, by perseverance, he will improve and
strengthen, is termed by Aristotle ey Kpar eia (continence),
to distinguish it from awtypoavi'r] (temperance), which implies
that the bad passions and appetites are entirely overcome,
an^ are completely under the control of right reason.

The imperfect habit, then, is evidently instrumental, and
necessarily instrumental, to the formation of the perfect one ;
and to the investigation of the nature of this haMtpand the
subjects related, Aristotle devotes this book.

We must next inquire with what view Aristotle has
introduced here the subjects of heroic virtue and brutality.
There is no point which he so earnestly endeavours to im-
press upon his hearers as this, that the subject of ethical
philosophy is human happiness, and virtue and vice, so far as
they come within the province of man, and so far as his
moral nature is capable of their*. But as there are beings
whose nature is superior to that of man, that is, the Deity,
and, according to the popular belief (which he always con-
siders deserving of respect and consideration), demi-gods and
heroes, so are there human beings who, by defect of nature,
or early depravity, have become degraded below the rank
which man occupies amongst created beings.

The virtue which belongs to the former Aristotle desig-
nates heroic virtue ; the vice which characterizes the latter
he terms brutality. The discussion of these must not be,
of course, considered as forming pare of Aristotle's ethical
system, but rather as questions of curiosity parallel to his
examination of man's moral habits, and helping to illustrate
and throw light on their nature,CHAP. II.}

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

The attempt which Socrates and his followers made to
establish the purely intellectual nature of moral virtue, the
exactness and mathematical certainty of moral science, and
of the reasoning processes by which its facts and phenomena,
are demonstrated, causes another question to arise connected
with the subject of continence. This is, whether the inconti-
nent man acts contrary to knowledge.

These two dogmas are directly contradictory to the moral
theory of Aristotle, and, notwithstanding what he says in
the conclusion respecting the superiority of the happiness
and satisfaction derived from intellectual contemplation, he
is consistent in combating them throughout.

1.—1,	2. There are three forms of what is to he. avoided in
morals—vice, incontinence, and brutality.

Three contrary to these to be sought—virtue, continence,
heroic virtue.

3. Heroic virtue and brutality are extremely rare. The
latter is generally found amongst savages, and those suffering
from disease or maiming.

- 4. Aristotle, in treating of continence and patience, incon-
tinence and effeminacy, states and discusses the opinions
generally entertained, and then examines and solves diffi-
culties.

5. The opinions commonly held are seven in number ; these
he enumerates and afterwards discusses in the subsequent
chapters.

II.—1. He first discusses Opinion III.; namely, how one
who forms a right conception can be incontinent.

Socrates thought it absurd that, if a man had knowledge,
anything else should master him.

2.	Others thought that an incontinent man might possess,
not knowledge, but opinion.

If they mean a weak opinion, and his desires are strong,
then to yield is pardonable; but incontinence is blameable
and nothing blameable is pardonable.

3.	If not a weak opinion, or knowledge, they must meaa
prudence (this is Opinion YI.) ; but it is impossible, accord-
ing to Aristotle's theory already laid down, for the same max)
to be prudent and incontinent.

4.	If the continent man resists strong and bad desires
he is not the same as the temperate man (this is Opi-ftt

ANALYSIS OF

[book vii.

iiion IV.) y if lie resists weak ones, there is nothing great in
so doing.

5.	If continence is the same as perseverance in every
opinion, it would sometimes be bad, and incontinence would
oe good. (Opinion II.)

6.	Again, if, by sophistical reasoning, a man is led to
admit premisses and therefore is forced to admit, but cannot
approve of the conclusion, he would be considered inconti-
nent, because unable to refute the argument.

7.	Thirdly. If this is the case, incontinence, together with
folly, would make up virtue.

8.	Fourthly. On this supposition, incontinence would be
incurable, and therefore worse than intemperance, which
cannot be the case.

These four arguments refute Opinion II.

9.	If temperance and continence are conversant with every-
thing, what «is meant by simple continence h (Opinion VII.)

III.—1—4. Certain questions are here proposed, of which
the first and most important is answered in the following
manner. That the temperate and the continent are con-
versant with the same object-matter, but they differ in their
relation to it.

The temperate and intemperate act from deliberate prefer-
' ence ; the incontinent knows what is right, but does not
pursue it.

5.	As to the question whether the incontinent acts con-
trary to knowledge, it may be said that knowledge implies
either the possession only, or the possession and use of it.

6.	In the syllogisms of moral action, there are two pre-
misses, the universal and the particular. Now, a man may
possess both, but only use the universal.

7.	There is also a difference in the universal: it may
relate partly to oneself, partly to the matter in hand. If
the particular to be attached to the universal, as a minor
to a major premiss, relates to oneself, then the knowledge of
the major involves that of the minor ; if it relates to the
matter in hand, this knowledge is not implied: in the one
ease it would be strange that a man possessing knowledge
should act wrong; in the other it would not.

8.	Again, some obstacle, such as sleep, madness, to which
passion is similar -may prevent knowledge froin acting.CHAP. ty.J

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

lili

9) We must not suppose that the utterance of moral
sentiments is a proof of knowledge exerting itself.

10, 11. The question may also be considered physically,
that is, according to the principles on which the mind carries
on its operations.

As we always act on a syllogism, suppose, for example, the
presence in the mind of the minor premiss, " This is sweet,"
the knowledge of which we gain by ato-ffyo-ic (sensation, either
mental or bodily). To this we may apply, as a major
premiss, " Everything sweet is pleasant," instead of one
which forbids self-indulgence. The consequence is, that if
we are under the influence of desire or appetite, we act
wrong. Had we applied the other major premiss, we should
have acted right. Hence it is desire, and not the opinion to
which we have logically come, which opposes right reason.
In other words, in the case of incontinence, desire resists
reason, and is victorious; whereas, if it had not been for
desire, we should have come to a right conclusion, and acted
in obedience to the dictates of reason.

12.	Brutes, therefore, cannot be incontinent, because they
act from instinct, and not from a reasoning process.

13,	14. How the incontinent is to regain the knowledge
he has lost, Aristotle considers a question for the physiolo-
gist. (The term " physics," as used in this chapter, of course
includes metaphysics.)

IV.—1. Is there such a thing as incontinence "simply"
or "absolutely V9 (Opinion VII.)

It is plain that the continent and patient are so with
respect to pleasures and pains.

2.	The causes of pleasures are of two kinds :—
(1.) Necessary. (2.) Unnecessary.

When a man is incontinent with respect to the lattei. wxs
add the difference, as, for instance, we say—

3.	Incontinent of anger, of gain, &c. The term inconti-
nence is applied analogically.

4.	Those who are incontinent in bodily enjoyments, we
call incontinent simply.

A proof of this is, that it is only this incontinence which
is blamed as a vice, and not as an error.

5.	Another proof is, that, with respect to these pleasures,
men are called effeminate (fiaXaKol).

a 2ANALYSIS OF

£book VII.

Deliberate preference makes the difference between intem-
perance and incontinence.

6.	The degree of intemperance is inversely as tlie strength
of the temptation.

7.	Pleasant things may be arranged under three heads :—

(I.) Those which are in their nature eligible.

(2.) The contrary to these.

(3.) Those which are between both.

8.	The incontinent with respect to the first and second
kind are not blamed for desiring them, but for excess in so
doing.

9* Still, as these pleasures are not vicious, the excess,
though blameable, does not amount to vice.

The term incontinent is applied because of the similarity
of the affection, just as we may call a man a bad physician,
although we would not call him a bad man.

Y.—1—3. Things pleasant are divided in the following
way :—

Naturally.

Simply. Partially
to different
kinds of
animals and
men.

4—8. No one would call him incontinent in whom nature
or custom is the cause of his diseased state ; such a man,
strictly speaking, is not vicious, but vitiated, and his state is
a morbid one.

9. If he does conquer his brutal inclination, he is only
called continent metaphorically.

YI.—1—-3. Incontinence of anger is less disgraceful than
incontinence of desire.

(1.) Because anger does appear to listen to reason, but
listens imperfectly; whilst desire rushes to en-
joyment, in obedience to mere instinct.

4, 5. (2.) Anger is more natural, and therefore more par-
donable, than desire, even when carried to excess.

6. (3.) Anger is open in its attacks, desire is insidious,
and therefore more unjust.

Unnaturally.

From maiming. Custom. Depraved

tastes and
dispositions.CHAP, VIII.]	ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

lv

7.	(4.) The feeling of anger is attended with pain, and is

not accompanied with wanton insolence ; but the
gratification of lustful desires is attended with
pleasure, and implies wanton insult also.

8.	The object-matter of continence is the bodily pleasures
which are proper to man. The term, cannot be applied to
brutes, because they, like insane persons, have no deliberate
preference.

9.	Brutality is, morally considered, not so bad as vice, but
it is more terrible ; because it implies the entire absence and
want, not the corruption of the best principle.

VII.—1.	The incontinent is he who is disposed to yield
to such pleasures as most men are superior to.

The continent is superior to those pleasures to which
most men yield.

Substitute paips for pleasures, and the former case is that
of the effeminate, the latter that of the patient.

The moral character of most men is something between
these two.

2.	He who pursues pleasure in excess, or avoids bodily
pain from deliberate preference, is intemperate.

He is incapable of repentance, and therefore incurable.

3.	The incontinent and effeminate are not so bad as the
intemperate.

4.	5. Continence is opposed to incontinence, patience to
effeminacy. Patience implies resistance, continence victory;
therefore continence is better than patience.

6.	To yield to excessive pleasure and pain is by no means
astonishing, but pardonable.

But to yield to pleasures and pains which most men resist,
is astonishing.

7.	He who is devoted to sport is effeminate, rather than
intemperate.

8.	There are two sorts of incontinence; namely, weakness
Slid precipitancy.

9.	The latter is that to which the quick and choleric are
liable.

VIII.—1.	Intemperance is not inclined to repentance,
incontinence is j therefore the former, like chronic diseases, is
incurable, the latter, like acute diseases, is curable; the latter
is unperceived, the former not so.ANALYSIS O*

[book vil.

a incontinent persons, ol eicarrariicoi are the better.

Incontinence is not vice absolutely, but only in a

ctain sense, because the principle of moral action is not
corrupted.

4, 5. The intemperate acts from a perverted principle, and
his state, therefore, is a hopeless one.

IX.—1.	The question (II.) is again considered ; namely,
whether the continent man is identical with him who abides
by his opinion.

The answer is, that those are absolutely continent or in-
continent who abide by a true opinion, those who abide by
an opinion of any kind are only accidentally so ; i. e., whether
they are or are not, must be decided by the result.

2.	There is a class of persons called obstinate; they re-
semble in some measure the continent, but they really differ,
in that, even contrary to the suggestions of reason, they,
influenced by pleasure, abide by their opinion.

The continent may be persuaded to change, the obstinate
never.

3.	There are three kinds of obstinate persons :—

(1.) The self-opinionated.

(2.) The uneducated.

(3.) The clownish.

4.	There are also some who depart from their opinions on
J right grounds, e. g., for the sake of honourable pleasures;

these cannot be called incontinent.

5.	Since the defect as to the desire of bodily pleasures is
rare, continence is thought to be opposed to incontinence,
and temperance to intemperance.

6.	The temperate and continent, and also the intemperate
and incontinent, have points in common, although in reality
they are distinct.

X.—1.	A man cannot be both prudent and incontinent.

(1.) Because prudence implies goodness.

(2.) Because the prudent man not only knows what is
right, but is apt and inclined to practise it.

2. Cleverness, as it does not imply 7rpoaipearigji& consistent
with incontinence.

The incontinent is like a man who possesses .knowledge,
but is under the influence of sleep or wine. He acts volun-
tarily, but is not vicious absolutely. He is not unjust. HeCHAP. X.J

ARISTOTLxS'S ETHIC*.

resembles a state which has good laws, but does not use
them.

4, 5. Of the two kinds, precipitancy is more curable than
weakness; and incontinence, which is the result of custom,
than that which is the result of nature.

As the concluding chapters of this book most probably
belong to the Eudemean Ethics, and the subject of pleasure
is discussed fully in Book X., no analysis is given of them*

BOOK VIII

Introductory.—In popular language, the expression "a
state of nature," is usually applied to man in a savage state ;
this, however, is by no means a correct or philosophical use
of the term. The real natural state of man is, as Aristotle
jtruly asserts, the social state. In no nation was the prin-
ciple of social union more powerfully exemplified than it
was amongst the Greeks. Their associations for uniting the
whole race under one common name, their public games
periodically recurring, their Amphictyonic institutions, which
existed amongst them in the times of the earliest traditions,
are instances, on a vast scale, of an "esprit de corps," so to
speak, a tendency to unite closely together, on the principle
of community of interest. Founded as these unions were
on the ties of race and blood, and consecrated by religious
ceremonies and observances, in which only those of the same
race and kindred could participate, they appealed to the
same principles of human nature which hold together fami-
lies and relations. They were not merely like the alliances
between modern states, grounded upon motives of expediency
and policy, but, theoretically at least, they implied affection;
they were, in fact, international friendships.

Again, the intercourse which was kept up between the
several states of Greece by means of wpo&voi and kdeXoirpo^evo^
originated in the same mutual feeling towards each other,
and was a development of the same principle of inter-
national goodwill. It is customary to compare this institu-
tion of the ancient Greeks to the consulate of modern timesvanalysis of

[book viii.

Doubtless tlie object and effect produced are the same;
namely, the protection of foreigners ; but still the appoint-
ment of an officer to reside in a foreign country, whose duty
it is to watch .over the interests of his own countrymen,
would give a very inadequate idea of the Greek system.
The Greek 7rpoterog was one whose sacred duty it was to wel-
come as a friend and a brother the citizens of a foreign state,
whose occupations called him to a land of strangers. And
these duties, as in the case of the ideXoTrpo&vog, were often
voluntarily undertaken.

Lastly, within the states of Greece themselves, the asso-
ciations which existed for the purposes of mutual combina-
tion were innumerable, and exercised, sometimes for good,,
but far more frequently for evil, a great influence over the
political consitution of the different states. The tpavoi or
zTcitpicu were clubs instituted, some for charitable, others for
convivial purposes. Another class (ifnrop iical) were for com
mercial purposes ; and the Siaaoi were of a religious nature.
But whatever the primary objects of these combinations or
unions may have been, they were generally of a political
nature, and, so far as the testimony of history goes, their
tendency was generally prejudicial to good order and govern-
ment ; they were, in fact, antagonists, and formidable ones,
to constituted authority. Thucydides (Book III. c. 82), when
speaking of the terrible results of the Corcyrean sedition,
when moral and political corruption raged throughout the
states of Greece, and utterly disorganized society, mentions
that irrational audacity was commended as avhpia (piXerctLpoc,
meaning a devotion to those unions which, at that period of
political convulsion, usurped the place of genuine patriotism.

Pisander, too, at a. later period of Greek history (B.C. 411),
made these unions instrumental in effecting the political
changes which he contemplated. Thirlwall says (History of
Greece, vol. iv. p. 26), "In most of the Greek states, the
ambition of individuals, or the conflict of parties, had given
rise to a number of private associations, for purposes either
mainly or wholly political, some attached to a single leader,
others united by the common interests of the members.
These clubs were of long standing in Athens. Cimon had
formed one, which rallied round him as its centre, attracted
more, perhaps, by his fortune and abilities than by hisBOOK VIII.]

aristotj.&'s ethics.

Ib

principles, shared the reproach, which he incurred by his
partiality for Sparta, and proved its devoted ness to his
person at the battle of Tanagra. It seems to have been by
means of a similar union that Thucydides, the rival of
Pericles, endeavoured to defeat the attempt of Hyperbolus.
It was on his command over such associations, that Alci-
biades relied for the accomplishment of his ambitious de-
signs.

" But there appear to have been many political clubs at
Athens, which did not acknowledge any chief, but merely
aimed at certain objects in which all the members were
equally concerned. The defective administration of justice
exposed unprotected individuals fco vexation and wrong, but
enabled a number who combined their fortunes and credit,
the more easily to shield each other, or to strike a common
enemy. Another end for which such coalitions were formed,
was to control the elections for offices of trust and power,
either with a view to self-defence, or to the extension of
their influence.

" In every case both the object and the means, if not posi-
tively illegal, were such as the lav/ did not recognize ; the
mutual attachment of the associates was stronger than the
ties by which they were bound to the state, and even those
of blood; and the law of honour, which generally prevailed
amongst them, required that they should shrink from no
sacrifice, and from no crime, which the common interest
might demand. These associations, therefore, wero hot-beds
of seditious and revolutionary projects; and I'hrynicus
found it easy to engage them on his side ; and, before he
left Athens, he had organized an extensive conspiracy among
them for the immediate subversion of the democratical
government."

The above brief view of the state of feeling and habit
prevalent in Greece, in all ages, on these important points,
will account for the way in which Aristotle treats the sub-
ject of friendship. It will, hence, be seen why he discusses
it not only as a virtue of private individuals, but in relation
to social communions of different kinds, and even to the
theory of civil government itself.

The place which friendship occupies in ethics is, firstly,
as being instrumental tc moral virtue, as supplying oppor*ix

ANALYSIS OF

[book viil

tunities for the most satisfactory exercises of virtuous ener-
gies, and performance of Relative duties ; and, secondly, as
being absolutely necessary to the happiness of man, which
cannot be complete, unless his amiable affections and social
sympathies are satisfied.

/•'I.—1—3. The subject of friendship is introduced, because—
(1.) It is either a virtue or conjoined with virtue.
(2.) It is most necessary to life, to young and old, rich
and poor.

4.	(3.) The principles of friendship are innate.

5.	(4.) It is the bond of social communities.
(5.) It supplies the place of justice.

6.	(6.) It is not only necessary, but honourable.

7.	8. According to custom, Aristotle states the opinion
generally entertained respecting friendship.

Some say it originates in resemblance.

Others from physical causes.

Heraclitus, for example, asserts it is due to contrariety of
physical constitution.. Empedocles to similarity.

He dismisses the discussion of physical questions, and
confines himself to moral ones, and proposes to inquire—
(1.) Can all be friends, or is it impossible for bad men
be so 1

(2.) Are there more kinds of friendship than one ?

II.—1, 2. We must discover what is the object of friendship
It is (1.) The good.

(2.) The pleasant.

(3.) The useful.

Is it then the good, or the apparent good 1

Abstractedly, it is the good ; relatively to the individual,
it is the apparent good. This distinction, however, will
make no difference.

We cannot use the term friendship of fondness for inani-
mate things ; because friendship must be reciprocal.

3, 4. Unless reciprocity exists, the feeling is goodwill.

Friends, therefore, must feel goodwill to each other, both
parties must be aware of the feelings of each other, and they
must wish good to each other for one of the three reasons
above mentioned.

/ III.—1. There are three kinds of friendship, correspond-
ing to the three objects.CHAP. V.]

ARISTOTLE'* KTHICS.

2.	Friendship for the sake of the useful is not real friendship.

The same is the case with respect to that for the sake of

the pleasant.

3.	These two kinds of friendship are easily dissolved.

4—6. The former generally is found to exist between the
old, the latter between the young.

For this reason the young are apt to be in love.

They quickly form and quickly put an end to their friend-
ships.

7, 8. The friendship between the good and virtuous is
respect.

The virtuous are good both absolutely and relatively, and
as they are likewise mutually pleasant, their friendship
therefore comprehends all the essentials of friendship, and
consequently is permanent.

9, 10. Such friendships are rare, as they require time and
intimacy.

axIY.—1, 2. The friendships for the sake of the pleasant
'and the useful resemble true friendship, because the good are
pleasant and useful to each other.

3.	Friends for the sake of the useful cease to be so when
the usefulness ceases.

4.	For these motives bad men may be friends.

5.	The friendship of the virtuous is alone superior to
calumny.

6.	False friendships are only called so from analogy.

7.	The same persons are rarely friends for the sake both
of the pleasant and the useful, for these qualifications are
seldom found combined.

//V.—1. As in virtues some are called good according to
the habit, others according to the energy, so in friendship,
absence does not destroy it, but only impairs the energy.

2.	If the absence be long, forgetfulness is the result.
- The old and morose are not inclined to friendship.

3.	Those who do not live together and are not intimate
may be said to resemble those who have goodwill rather
than friendship.

The friendship of the good, therefore, is friendship in the
highest sense.

4.	The feeling of fondness resembles a passion, friendship
itself a habit.iii

ANALYSIS O*

^BOO.K VIII

The good when they love their friend love that which is
good to themselves.

VI.—1, 2. The old and the morose are less suited than
others to friendship, but still they are perfectly capable of
entertaining goodwill.

3.	It is impossible to entertain true friendship for many,
because—

(1.) It resembles an excess of feeling, and this can only
be felt towards one object.

(2.) It requires experience and intimacy.

We may be friends with many Ota to xpfotpov and ha to
fjdv.

4.	The friendship hia to rfiv most resembles true friend-
ship.

That dici to xp*l<rLH<>v is that of tradesmen.

5.	The happy and prosperous require pleasant friends, and
not useful ones.

6.	Men in power require friends of both kinds, because
the two qualities are seldom found in the same person.

The good man combines both; but he will not be a friend
to a man in power unless he is his superior in goodness, so
as to produce equality between them.

7.	The false friendships bear the name of friendship, from
their resemblance to the true; again, they are unlike friend-
ship in point of permanence and stability.

fy VII.—1, 2. There is also friendship between persons who
are unequal.

In the subdivision of this kind of friendship, the relative
duties are different, but the necessary equality is produced
by the person who is inferior in merit being superior in
strength of affection.

3.	The idea of equality injustice and friendship differs.

In justice, equality in proportion to merit is considered

first, and equality in quantity second; in friendship, the
reverse.

4.	The necessity of a certain equality is plain, from the
fact that, where the difference of rank is very great, friend-
ship does not exist.

5.	Hence a question has arisen, whether men really
wish to their friends the greatest goods, because, if they got
the greatest goods, they would lose their friends.CHAP. X.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

lxiii

VIII.—1—3. The love of honour leads the majority to
wish to be loved rather than to love ; therefore the majority
love flattery, for being loved resembles being honoured,
although in reality it is better.

4.	But, notwithstanding this prevalent notion, friendship
really consists in loving rather than in being loved.

This is proved by the strength of maternal affection.

5.	As, therefore, the essence of friendship is the feeling of
affection, by the superior strength of this feeling any ine-
quality which exists between parties may be readily remedied.

This stability is insured between the good, because equality
and similarity, especially in goodness, are the essentials of
friendship.

6.	The bad, on the contrary, have no stability.

7.	8. The friendship for the sake of the useful is based
upon the possession of contrary qualities, because the one
party has what the other wants.

9. But though, in a certain sense, the contrary wants the
contrary, what it really wants is the mean, for this is " the
good."

/ IX.—1. Every community implies a principle of justice,
as well as a principle of friendship.

These principles are co-extensive.

2.	For example, the relative rights, as well as the affections
between parents and children, brothers, &c. differ, and they
are in direct proportion to each other.

3.	All communities come under and form parts , of the
social community, whatever may be the motives for which
the association is formed.

Even the social community has been supposed to be the
result of some mutual compact for the sake of mutual benefit.

4.	5. At any rate, all communities or associations are
formed with a view to advantage or pleasure.

Corresponding friendships will accompany these commu-
nities.

/'X.—1—5. There are three kinds of political constitutions
and three corruptions of them.

(1.) Monarchy.

(2.) Aristocracy.

(3.) Timocracy.

Of these, monarchy is the best, and timocracy the worst.ANALYSIS OF

[HOOK Vtlf

The three corruptions are—

(1.) Tyranny.

(2.) Oligarchy.

(3.) Democracy.

Of these, tyranny is the worst, and democracy the least bad

6.	Resemblances to these constitutions may be found in
domestic life.

The relation between a father and his children is like that
between a king and his subjects.

7.	That between a master and his slaves is like a tyranny.

That between husband and wife resembles an aristocracy.

This relation, if the husband is overbearing, degenerates

into one which resembles an oligarchy.

8.	The relation between brothers is like a timocracy.

The state of families without a master is like a demo-
cracy.

XI.—1,	2. In each of these forms, there is a friendship
co-extensive with the just in each.

The friendship between a king and his subjects is like
that between a father and his children, only that the latter
is superior in the amount of benefits conferred.

3.	The friendship between husband and wife is the same
as in an aristocracy.

4.	The friendship in a timocracy is like that between bro-
thers, and also that between companions.

5,	There is but little friendship in the corrupt forms, as
there is but little justice.

In a tyranny there is least of all, perhaps none.

6,	7. In like manner, there is none between master and
slave, so far forth as he is a slave, although there may be, so
far forth as he is a man.

In a democracy there is most friendship, because equals
have many things in common.

XII.—1.	All friendships are based upon community,
which is either natural or by compact.

Civil communities exist in virtue of a compact.

2—4. The friendships between relatives are by nature, and
all depend upon the parental.

The love of parents is stronger than that of children,
because children are, as it were, part of themselves, and it
has also existed lor a longer time.CHAP. XV1.J

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

o. Brothers love one another, because they are sprung from
tlie same parents.a

The friendship of brothers resembles that between com-
panions.

The friendship between all other relations is owing to
the same cause.

6.	The friendship of children towards their parents, and
of men towards the gods, is, as it were, towards something
superior.

7.	The friendship between man and wife owes its origin
to nature; but besides, they marry for the sake of mutual
help and comfort.

This friendship unites the useful, the pleasant, and, if the
parties be virtuous, the good.

8.	Children are a common good, and therefore a bond of
union between man and wife.

XIII.—1,	2. In equal friendships, disputes arise almost
exclusively in those friendships which are for the sake of the
useful.

3, 4. In friendship for the sake of the pleasant, disputes
are ridiculous.

5.	Friendship for the sake of the useful is of two kinds.

(1.) Moral. (2.) Legal.

6.	Moral friendship is not upon settled specified terms,
legal is.

In it a man gives as to a friend, but still he expects to
receive an equivalent.

7.	Indeed, it is the duty of the receiver of a kindness to
make a return, if he is able to do so.

8.	He must measure the value of the favour received,
and estimate the kindness of the giver, and make his return
accordingly.

9.	The conclusion to which Aristotle comes appears to be
that the benefit conferred on the receiver must be the measure.

In friendships for the sake of virtue, the measure is the
irpociLpEcrig of the giver.

XIV.—1,2.	In unequal friendships, disputes arise, because
each thinks he has less than his due.

* Compare Malachi xi. 10 : " Have we not all one Father ?—hath not
one God created us ? Why do we deal treacherously every man against
his brother ?"ANALYSIS OF

[book ix.

. Both, appear to be right; bofh ought to get- more, but not
more of the same thing.

The superior should get more honour, the needy more
profit.

3.	This rule is observed in political communities.

4.	Every man must make his return according to his
ability. More than this, friendship cannot demand.

In some cases, an adequate return cannot be made, as, for
instance, to parents.

Hence it may be lawful for a father to disown his son, but
not for a son to disown his father.

BOOK IX.

Introductory.—In this book Aristotle, completes his inves-
tigation of the subject of friendship. He commences it with
a continuation of the discussion respecting the means of
preserving and preventing the dissolution of unequal friend-
ships. He devotes a chapter (chapter iv.) to the casuistical
consideration of certain relative duties, and another (chap-
ter iii.) to the enumeration of those cases in which friendships
may or may not be dissolved.

He then proceeds to the consideration of an important
branch of the subject; namely, the connection and relation
which subsists between the love of others and the love of
ourselves. A reasonable self-love, totally different and_ dig-
tinguishable from selfishness, he considers as the sburce and
origin of a real love of others. The former is indispensable
to the existence of the latter. The good man will feel a
right and proper regard for his ovn best and highest interests,
and this same regard he will entertain towards his friend,
as towards another self. The standard of his affection for
his friend will be the same as that by which the Gospel
requires us to measure our love towards all mankind, when
we are bid " to love our neighbour as ourselves." As none
but a good man can entertain a real friendship, so he alone
is capable of loving himself, in the true sense of the term ;
and, conversely, since none but a good man can entertain
towards himself those qualities wnich are the developmentsshap. in.l	ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

of friendship,—namely, beneficence, good-will, and sympathy,
—therefore none but the good can really be friends. The
other questions which are considered in this book are of
minor interest and importance, but are incidental to, and
naturally arise out of it.

1.—1.	All dissimilar friendships are rendered equal, and
therefore preserved by proportion.

2,	3. Complaints arise from three causes :

(1.^ That there is not a sufficient return of affection.

(2.) That the person who loves does not perform his
promises.

4.	(3.) When what is received differs from what was

expected.

5.	6. As to the question, " Who is to fix the value of the
return1?" the opinion of Aristotle is, that the receiver ought
to do so.

7.	When no agreement has been made, the return must be
estimated by the deliberate intention of the giver.

8.	When an agreement has been made, the return should
be such as both parties think fair.

If this cannot be, the receiver should value it at as much
as he thought the favour worth before it was conferred upon
him.

II.—1,	2. No accurate rules can be laid down as to our
relative duties towards relations and friends.

It is clear, however, that we should, generally speaking,
repay kindnesses, rather than do kindnesses to those who
have not done them to us.

3—5. Cases however may occur in which this rule will not
hold good, because the latter may be more honourable.

6.	We ought to render to all their due.

7.	For example, we ought to assist our parents rather
than any other persons, and pay them the respect due to them.

8.	We ought to pay respect to the aged.

9.	With this view, we ought to compare the claims of
relatives, fellow-citizens, &c.

To do this in the case of relat Ives, is easy; in the case of
others, it is difficult.

III.—1.	When may friendship be dissolved 1

(1.) When the motives foe the sake of which thev
were formed cease.IxvUi

ANALYSIS OF

[book ix.

2. (2.) When parties are deceived as to the real motives
which, led to the friendship.

3,4.(3.) If one party becomes wicked, and his wickedness
is incurable.

5.	6. When one party remains the same, and the other
becomes far better, and the difference becomes excessively
great, sympathy is impossible, and therefore they cannot
really be friends ; but still the one who has improved must
remember their former intimacy, and feel goodwill towards
the other as towards a friend.

TV.—1. The real source of friendship for others is the
feelings of a man towards himself.

A friend has been defined in various ways; but the neces-
sary qualities which all these definitions involve, are benefi-
cence, good-will, and sympathy.

2—5. Now, all the feelings contained in these definitions
are entertained by a good man towards himself.

By " self" is meant each man's intellectual part, or
thinking principle.

A friend is a second self.

6.	Aristotle dismisses the question as to whether there be
such a thing as friendship towards one's-self.

7.	He asserts that, though the feelings spoken of exist
in many, although they are bad, still they cannot possibly
exist in those who are utterly bad. They cannot love
themselves really, because they are at variance with them-
selves.

They choose the pleasant rather than the good, which is
their true interest.

8.	They hate life, and destroy themselves.

They shun their own thoughts, and seek, for the sake* of
distraction, the society of others.

They have no sympathy with themselves.

They look back upon their past pleasures with pain.

They are full of remorse.

They have no friendly feeling towards themselves.

In order to escape this wretchedness, their only way is to
flee feom wickedness, and to strive to become good.

V.—1. Goodwill resembles, but is not identical witlfc
friendship;

For it is felt towards those whom we do not know.CHAP. VII.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

Ixix

It is not affection, tylXrjviQ; for it has no intensity, nor
desire, and may be felt on a sudden.

2.	It is the beginning and origin of friendship, as sight is
the beginning of love.

3.	It is impossible to feel friendship without goodwill.

4.	So that it may be defined friendship in a state of
inactivity, which by intimacy becomes true friendship.

5.	It is entertained on account of virtue, or goodness.

VI.—1.	Unanimity (o/jovota) differs from unity of opi-
nion (dfjLodo'&a), in being between persons known to each
other, and on practical matters.

2.	Especially on those which are important, and of com-
mon interest.

3.	There is no unanimity when two persons covet the
same thing; but the reverse.

4.	It is therefore political friendship.

It exists between the good, for they wish and desire in
common the just and expedient.

5.	It cannot exist between the bad, because they only
agree in shunning duty, and in coveting personal advantage.

VII.—1.	The love felt by benefactors is stronger than that
felt by the benefited.

2.	Most people think the reason for this is, because the
benefactor, like a creditor, wishes for the safety and pros-
perity of his debtor, with a view to repayment.

3.	This, Epicharmus would say, is looking to the bad side
of human nature; nevertheless, it is not unlike human
nature.

4.	5. However, the true reasons are,

(1.) That the benefactor looks upon the person bene-
fited as his work, and men love their own works,
as proofs of energy, and therefore of existence.

6.	(2.) The benefactor gets honour, the benefited only

advantage; and honour is preferable to advan-
tage.

7.	(3.) The pleasure derived from the honourable is

permanent, that derived from the useful is transi-
tory.

8.	(4.) To love is an active feeling, to be loved passive.

(5.) All love that best which has cost them trouble.

VIII.—The	difficulty of deciding whether we ought to

e 2ANALYSIS

[book ix.

love ourselves or others best, arises from not distinguishing
between proper and improper self-love.

The popular opinion is, that the bad man does nothing
without reference to self.

The good man acts for the sake of the honourable, and
passes over his own interests.

2, 3. On the other hand, it is said that a man should
love his greatest friend best; now, the best friend a man
has is himself; therefore, he ought to love himself best.

4—7. ISTow, improper self-love, or selfishness, causes a
man to give to himself more than his share of money, or
distinctions, or bodily pleasures, in fact, of the gratifications
of the irrational part of his nature.

True self-love desires the honourable, and to be virtuous,
and to gratify the ruling part of his nature, i. e. the in-
tellect.

8.	Eor the intellectual part especially constitutes what
we call " self." a

9.	$Sow, all praise him who is particularly earnest in per-
forming virtuous and honourable acts.

10.	Therefore, the good man must be a self-lover, but the
wicked man ought not to be so.

11.	The good man will sacrifice everything for the sake of
appropriating to himself the greatest share of the honour-
able (to kciXov).

12.	Hence, he will sacrifice even life itself in the cause of
his country.

13.	Therefore, reasonable self-love is right, but selfishness
is wrong.

IX.—1. Some have said that the happy man does not need
friends, because he has all he wants, and needs no one to
provide^more for him.

2.	But yet it seems absurd to give a man all other goods,
and deny Tiitti the greatest of all goods.

Besides, a good man will want persons to do good to.

3.	Hence, it has been asked, when do we most need friends 1

* See Bishop Butler's Analogy, Part I. chap. i. " On a Future State,''
where he shows that the living agent or sentient being, which each man
calls himself, is related to the body merely as to a system of instruments
organs destitute of perception, which convey perceptions to the per-
ceiving ana renscting; powers.chap, x.j	ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.	bed

In prosperity, foi us to help them, or in adversity, for them
to help us 1

4.	It also seems absurd, when man is a social being, to
make the happy man a solitary being.

The happy man, therefore, does need friends.

5.	The mistake of the generality seems to be, that they
think only of useful friends.

Now, the happy man will not want either useful or plea-
sant friends.

6.	But he will want virtuous friends; because he delights
in contemplating good actions, and such actions as his own ;
and we can better contemplate a friend's actions than we
can our own.

7.	Again, a solitary life is burthensome; and it is not easy
to energize constantly by one's-self.

8.	Let the question now be examined physiologically.

That which is naturally good is good and pleasant to the

good man.

Therefore, life is good and pleasant to the good man.

9.	Now, life, in man, consists in the exercise of sensation
and intellect.

10.	When we speak of life, we do not mean a depraved
and corrupt one, but the life of the good and happy.

11.	12. Therefore, the consciousness of living and existing
must be pleasant to a good man.

Now, a friend is a second self.

13, 14. Therefore, the perception of a friend's existence
is the perception of our own.

Therefore, it is good and pleasant.

Therefore, it is good to have friends, and consequently
even a happy man will need good friends.

X.—1. Should we, then, have many friends, or, as in the
case of hospitality, should we not be without, but still not
have too many 1

2.	Of useful Mends we certainly must not have many, for
it is troublesome to requite many favours.

3.	Of pleasant friends, a few are sufficient, like sweetening
in our food.

To the number of virtuous friends there must be also
some limit, as the numbers of a political community must be
limited.lxxii

ANALYSIS OF

[bock ix.

4.	Perhaps the best limit is the greatest number with
whom we can associate.

Besides, we ought to remember that our friends ought to
be Mends to each other, and that we ought to sympathize
with them all in joys and sorrows.

These considerations will also tend to limit the number.

5.	It is as impossible to be strong friends with many as to
be in love with many.

6.	All celebrated friendships have been between two.

In a political sense only, can we have many friends.

We must be content with a few virtuous friends, because

it is even impossible to meet with many.

XI.—1.	Friends are needful, both in prosperity and in
adversity.

In the latter, we require useful friends, in the former,
virtuous ones.

In adversity, they are more necessary, in prosperity, more,
honourable.

2.	The sympathy of friends is also pleasant in adversity.

How it comes to pass that sympathy lightens the weight

of sorrow, it is unnecessary to inquire ; the fact is certain.

3.	The presence of friends, when we are in misfortune,
causes a mixed feeling. We are pleased and comforted by
their sympathy, but we are pained by seeing them grieved
Dy our misfortunes.

4.	Therefore, the manly character will be cautious of thus
causing pain to his fiiends, the effeminate will delight in
having others to mourn with him.

5.	In prosperity, friends make our time pass pleasantly
therefore, in prosperity we should be glad to invite them, in
adversity reluctant.

6.	When Mends are in trouble, we should go to them
gladly.

WTien they are in prosperity, we should go to them will-
ingly, if we can forward any object they have in view, but
reluctantly, if we go to enjoy their good fortune.

XII.—1.	As the sight of the beloved object is most
desirable to lovers, so society is most desirable to friends.

Again, a friend is a second self; as, therefore, the percep- ,
fcion of our own existence is desirable, so is the perceptioo
of the existence of a MendBOOK X.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

lxxiii

2, 3. In whatever pursuit a man thinks the enjoyment of
life consists, this pursuit he likes to enjoy with his friends.

4.	Hence, the friendship of bad men becomes depraved,
that of good men good, by intercourse.

5.	By associating together, good men mutually correct and
improve each other.

BOOK X.

Introductory.—There are two objects which Aristotle has
in view in making pleasure the subject of a great part of
this his concluding book. The first is to examine, and
refute when erroneous, the various opinions which Plato and
other philosophers had held respecting it; and the second,
to show the exact place which, pleasure occupies in relatkxn
to virtue and human happiness. This he can now safely do,
Without any risk of his hearers being misled by false notions
and incorrect estimates of its nature and value. * He has
insisted on a moral preparation and discipline of the habitSj
as the only road to happiness and, therefore, the studenf
may now be informed that pleasure, such pleasure as he i|
now fitted by moral discipline to appreciate and enjoy, shal|
be the reward of his endeavours, and the adjunct of thai
happiness which he has been seeking by the only road whic>
could really lead to its attainment.

Aristotle shows that pleasure is not "per se" an evil,
because the grounds on which it may be considered to be so
only belong to those of a grosser corporeal kind, and not to
the purer enjoyments of the ruling part of man's nature, the
intellect. By another series of arguments, he also proves,
on the other hand, that though a good, it is not the chief
good.

The connection between happiness and pleasure maybe
briefly expressed in the following words :—Happiness is an
energy, and every energy is completed and rendered perfect
by the pleasure peculiar to it. It is plain, that, although
pleasure perfects the energy, and is therefore an adjunct
to it, it is not itself an energy or activity, for it is not in*xxi*

ANALYSIS OF

[book x

any way an act either of tlie perceptive or the reasoning
faculties.

From tins definition of pleasure, we can see Low Aris-
totle, in tlie next division of tliis book, arrives at tlie con*
elusion tliat tlie highest human happiness must be sought
for in „ intellectual contemplation, and that it will be in-
separably united with^pleasure of the highest kind. It is
plain, also, that he arrives at it by the safest and most
practical road.

In order that man's divinest and purest nature, the intel-
lectual, may energize independently and without impediment,
his moral nature must have been brought into its highest-
condition ; but when this is the case, the intellect is capable
of exercising its powers, that is, it is capable of the act of
contemplation. Now happiness has been laid down to be an
energy according to the most perfect virtue ; and this must
be the virtue of the highest faculties which man possesses,
namely, the intellectual. But every energy is perfected by
its own peculiar pleasure, and therefore the most perfect
energies must be accompanied by the highest pleasures.

I.—1, 2. Pleasure is, more than anything else, intimately
bound up with the nature of man; and one of the principal
parts of education is to instil right notions respecting its
nature.

3.	For this reason, as well as because of the erroneous,
views prevalent respecting it, this subject ought not to be
passed over.

4.	The evil of erroneous views may be seen in the follow-
ing example —Suppose a teacher of morals censures plea-
sure, and is then seen to desire it, this inconsistency entirely
destroys Ms influence and authority.

/y II.—1—3. Eudoxus thought that pleasure was the chief
^ good, because—

(1.) All creatures seek it.

(2.) Pain, its contrary, is universally avoided.

(3.) It is eligible for its own sake.

(4.) If added tc> any other good, it makes it more eligible.

The excellence of his moral character gave weight to his
assertions.

4. Argument (4) proves that pleasure is a good, but noi
the chief good.CH4P* III-l

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

5.	By an argument similar to argument (4), Plato pro ved
that pleasure was not tlie chief good; for he said that a
pleasant life became more eligible by the addition of moral
wisdom.

6.	That pleasure is a good, because all aim at it, is a valid
argument, although this does not prove that it is the chief
good. Had it only been said that irrational creatures sought
pleasure, an objection might have been made to the argu-
ment, but not when rational beings are included.

7.	Again, there is no force in the objection, " that because
pain is an evil, it does not follpw that pleasure is a good."
Of course it is not necessarily so ; but still it is a probable
argument, and experience supports it.

|/ III.—1. Plato says, pleasure is not a good, because it is
not a quality; but, for the same reason, neither happiness
nor the energies of virtue would be qualities.

2.	Again, he says, that good is definite, but that pleasure
admits of degrees.

If this objection applies to the act of being pleased, it
equally applies to justice, and all the moral virtues.

3.	If it is meant to apply to pleasure abstractedly, then
the distinction is forgotten between mixed and unmixed
pleasures, for the unmixed are definite, i. e. capable of being
defined.

But, after all, health is definite, and admits of degrees;
why then should not pleasure be definite, and admit of
degrees" also h

4.	Again, it is said pleasure is a motion and generation,
and motions and generations are imperfect.

It is not a motion, for quickness and slowness oelong to
every motion.

5.	£ But although we can become pleased quickly or
slowly, we cannot feel pleaswre quickly or slowly.

7. It cannot be a generation, because that which is
generated	"	which pro-

duced it*

~"Kow those spnsations which pi
destroys^ ^ s*'

Again, it is paid pain is a wr
that want/

- 8. But/ these wants are corLXXvi

ANALYSIS OF

[book x.

were the supplying of them, the body would feel the plea-
sure ; but it is the mind, and not the body which feels it.

The truth is, when the want is supplied, pleasure is felt.

9,	10. Besides, there are many pleasures which neither
imply a want to be satisfied, nor a pain to be removed.

11.	If reprehensible pleasures be brought forward in proof,
it may be answered, that they are not really pleasures.

12.	Or it may be answered, that the eligibility of pleasures
depends upon whence they are derived.

13.	Or we may say that pleasures differ in kind.

14.	This may be illustrated by the difference between a
friend and a flatterer.

15.	16. Again, experience proves that pleasures differ;
for we should not choose to be children all our lives, even if
the pleasures of children were the highest possible.

And, on the other hand, we should be anxious for some
things, even if they brought no pleasure.

17. It is clear, therefore,

1.)	That pleasure is not the chief good.

2.)	That some pleasures are eligible, and therefore

goods ; but that others are not so.

IV.—1. Pleasure is, like the act of vision, perfect at any
moment.

2.	For this reason, it is not a motion; as a motion is
imperfect at any separate moment of time.

3,	4. This may be illustrated by the process of constructing
a building.

5, 6. One cannot form any idea of motion, except as con-
nected with place, as well as time.

But motion is more properly treated of at length in
Aristotle's Physics.

7—9. The same arguments which prove that pleasure is
not a motion also prove that it is not a generation.

10.	There is an appropriate pleasure attendant upon
every act -	n (awdr)alej,eWiy .operation of the in-
telle ^in the investigation of the truth

mplation of truth

'ire will depend upoii , the perfect
*t, and the perfect nature of the
■>r is active.	\

^gy, therefore, there kre threeCHAP. VI.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

lxxvii

requisites : a perfect faculty, a perfect object, a perfect atten-
dant pleasure.

11—14. Pleasure, therefore, as the final requisite, perfects
the energy, not as an efficient, but as a formal cause, not as
an inherent habit, but as the bloom completes the beauty of
those who are in the prime of life.

The reason why we cannot feel pleasure continually is, that
the sense of enjoyment, like other faculties, flags and wearies
and becomes blunted, and requires novelty to excite it.

15, 16. It matters not whether we choose life for the sake
of pleasure, or pleasure for the sake of life.

This is, at any rate, plain, that life is energy, that pleasure
renders our energies perfect, and therefore gives perfection
to our life.

j Y.—1,2. Pleasures differ in kind, because—
(1.) The energies which they perfect differ.
3,4. (2.) The appropriate pleasure contributes to increase
each energy; the connection, therefore, must be
so close, that if the energies differ, the pleasure
must likewise.

5—8. (3.) Energies are hindered, and the pleasures resulting
from them destroyed, by pleasures arising from
other sources. Nay, opposite pleasures act like
pains.

9—11. (4.) Energies differ in quality; therefore the atten-
dant pleasures differ also. It may be observed,
that in their nature, as well as in point of time,
the pleasures are more closely connected with
the energies than with the desires, so that they
are sometimes, though imperfectly, confounded
with them.

12, 13. Different animals, as well as men under different
circumstances, have each their proper pleasure, as they have
each their proper energy.

14—16. True pleasure, therefore, is that which appears so
to the good man; and those which attend the energies of the
perfect and happy man are properly the pleasures of man.
\j VL—1. [Recapitulating what has been said before on the
same subject, Aristotle asserts that happiness is—

2, 3. An energy, eligible for its own sake, and therefore
according to virtue,Ixxviii

ANALYSIS C F

[book x,

4, 5. That it does not consist in amusement, although the
popular opinion respecting it would lead us to suppose so,
because—

6,	7. (1.^ The best men do not think so.

8, 9. (2.) Amusement or relaxation is not an end, but a
means.

10.	(3.) Serious pursuits are held to be better than '

amusements.

11.	(4.) If happiness were mere amusement, a slave could

be happy.

— VII.—1. If happiness is an energy according to virtue,
it must be according to the highest virtue.

This must be the virtue of the best part of man.

That is, the intellect.

The highest happiness, therefore, is the contemplative.

2.	This energy is—

1.)	The noblest.

2.)	The most continuous.

3.	(3.) The pleasantest.

4,5. (4.) Self-sufficient.

Not but what it will require the necessaries of life, but it
does not, like the moral virtues, require persons to energize
upon.

6. (5.) It is loved for its own sake.

7,	8. (6.) It is consistent with leisure.

9. Now the active virtues are displayed in politics or war.

These allow of no leisure; and we do not choose all this
troublesome occupation for its own sake.

All this being the case, perfect happiness is $ tup la.

10—14. Though this happiness is beyond man, yet, as
there is in him something divine, he ought to aspire to the
satisfaction of this divine nature, and not to mind only
earthly things because he is mortal. He should remember
that this principle is his " self,"a and though it may be

a Bishop Butler, when speaking of that which constitutes each man's
" self," uses similar language, doubtless influenced by the same mode of
thought as Aristotle. He says,—" Persons can trace up the existence of
themselves to a time when the bulk of their bodies was extremely small,
in comparison of what it is in mature age." This leads him to observe,
" That we have no means of determining by experience what is the certain
bulk of the living being each man calls himself; and yet till it be deter-
mined that it is larger in bulk than the solid elementary particles of
matter, which there is no ground to think any natural power can dis»ch\p. viii.]	ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

Ixzix

small in size as compared with. Lis bodily frame, yet it
immeasurably surpasses it in value.

tVIII.—1—3. The happiness resulting from moral virtue
is of a secondary kind, because—

(1.) Moral virtues belong to our compound nature, nay,
some seem to be the consequence even of our
corporeal nature, and to be connected with the
passions.

4.	"Whereas intellectual virtue is separate and distinct.

5,	(2.) Intellectual happiness requires external good far

less than moral happiness, for the latter requires
means, resources, and occasions for its exercise.
6, 7. (3.) The perfection of a moral act consists not only
in the moral principle from which it proceeds, but
also in the act itself.

[Now, for the perfection of an act, external means are
needed.

To contemplation, these are even impediments; nor are
they required by the contemplative man, except so far forth
as he is man.

8—11. The happiness of contemplation is that which
Aristotle supposes the gods enjoy, as he conceives it ridicu-
lous that they should be represented as engaged in pursuits
which give scope and opportunity for exercising the moral
virtue.

12,13. The lower animals are incapable of true happi-
ness, because they are incapable of contemplation ; therefore,
as far as contemplation extends, so far does happiness.

14, 15. Although the happy man, so far as he is man,
requires a certain portion of external good, nevertheless, he
does not want much,—a competence is sufficient. He should
have " neither poverty nor riches he need not be lord of
earth and sea; as private individuals are at least quite as
capable of honourable acts as men in power.

16, 17. The opinions of Solon and Anaxagoras seem to
"be perfectly consistent with those of Aristotle.

18.	If arguments agree with facts, the corroborative testi-
mony borne to their correctness by the opinions of philoso-
phers ought to have weight.

19,	20. As contemplation is most probably the occupa-

soive, there is no sorfc of reason to think death to be the dissolution of
it."—Analogy, Part I. chap. i.ANALYSIS QF

[book x.

tion of the gods, lie is most likely to be a favourite of heaven^
who, in Ms occupations and enjoyments, resembles them ; so
/that, on these grounds, the wise man is the happiest man.

IX.—1, 2. Moral precepts, and a knowledge of the theory
of virtue, are insufficient to make men virtuous, and yet, as
has been said, the object of moral science is not knowledge,
but practice.

3—5. Ethical instruction has power over generous and
liberal minds, but not over the minds of the masses, who are
influenced by fear rather than by reason.

6.	Now men are made good by nature, reasoning, and
teaching.	1

Over nature we have no power, and reasoning and teach-
ing exercise an influence only over minds cultivated for their
reception by the moral cultivation of the habits, and thus
instilling right principles, and correct views respecting the
government of the passions, and on the subject of pleasure
and pain.

7,	8. The moral character, therefore, must be formed by
education, and this education ought to be enforced by law.

9—11. Nor is education and discipline necessary only so
long as we are children, but throughout the whole of our
lives. Hence it is thought that exhortations to virtue are
the duty of legislators, as much as the punishment of evil-
doers, and the entire banishment of the incorrigible from the
community.

12, 13. Paternal or individual authority has no power to
enforce its decrees, but the law has, and men are willing to
acknowledge the supremacy of law, although they will not
submit to individuals.

Therefore, the state ought to undertake education, and in
this follow the very rare example of Lacedsemon and a few
other states.

14—16. If the state neglects the duty, it devolves upon
the parent.

In order, therefore for him to qualify himself, he should
make himself acquainted with the principles of legislation,
for the same laws which regulate public systems would be
also applicable to private ones.

17, 18. There are advantages m private education ; sucli as
the force of filial duty, and the power of adapting the sys-
tem to particular cases.CHAP. IX.]

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.



6.

19—21. A mail may certainly legislate for particular
cases, even without scientific knowledge; but nevertheless a
theoretical study of the general principles of legislation will
make him a better educator.

22—28. How, then, is the science of legislation to be
acquired ?

The sophists profess to teach it, but have no experience or
practical knowledge.

The statesman has practical knowledge, but he either
does not understand teaching, or at least he does not profess
to teach.

29.	Is it then sufficient to study digests and collections of
laws ? No; unless the student has experience and know-
ledge enough to guide him in determining which laws are
best, and which, therefore, ought to be selected.

He must by habit have acquired the power of forming
a correct judgment of the relative merits of laws and insti-
tutions.

30,	31. Now, this subject has been neglected by previous
writers; therefore Aristotle proposes, in a treatise on
politics,

(1.) To explain what former writers have correctly laid
down.

(2.) To examine what are the causes of the preservation
and destruction of commonwealths.

(3.) To determine what is the best form of polity.THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

OF ARISTOTLE.*

BOOK I.—CHAP. I.

What " the Good " is, and what the different hinds of Ends.

Every art and every scientific system, and in like 1.

manner every course of action and deliberate pre-
ference, seems to aim at some good; and conse-
quently " the Good" lias been well defined as "that what rd
which all things aim at."	dyaOov is.

But there appears to be a kind of difference in 2.

ends; for some are energies ; others again beyond Ends differ;

some being

a Aristotle in his ethical system takes somewhat lower
ground than Plato, inasmuch as the latter investigates what is
good,—the former what is good for man ; nevertheless, owing
to this very difference, the system of Aristotle is more prac-
tical than that of Plato. The chief good is considered by
Aristotle to be the end of the political science, by which he
understands that science, the object of which is all that relates
to the welfare of man. It therefore branches out into three
divisions:—Ethics, which treat of the good of the individual;

Economics, of the good of a family; Politics, properly so
called, of the good of a state. Aristotle was the author of
three ethical treatises :—(1.) The Nicomachean Ethics, so
called either because he dedicated them to his son Nicoma-
chus. or because Nicomachus arranged the MS. which
his father left: Cicero appears to have considered Nico-
machus the author. (2.) The Eudemian, which were ar-
ranged and published by his pupil Eudemus. (3.) The " Magna
Moralia." It is not improbable that the two latter treatises
were compiled from the notes of Aristotle's pupils.

B2

ARISTOTLE'S

[book i

energies, these, certain works \ but wherever there are cer-
works	ends besides the actions, there the works are

naturally better than the energies.b

3.	Now since there are many actions, arts, and
sciences, it follows that there are many ends j for
of medicine the end is health; of ship-building, a
ship ; of generalship, victory; of economy, wealth.

4.	But whatever of such arts are contained under any
chief arts 6 one ^ac^7? (as> ^or instance, under horsemanship is
superior to contained the art of making bridles, and all other
those of horse furniture; and this and the whole art of war
subordinate is contained under generalship ; and in the same
ones. manner other arts are contained under different

faculties;) in all these the ends of the chief arts are
more eligible than the ends of the subordinate ones;
because for the sake of the former, the latter are
• 5. pursued. It makes, however, no difference whether
the energies themselves, or something else besides
these, are the ends of actions, just as it would make
no difference hi the sciences above mentioned.

b The term energy, which I have retained as the translation
of evepysia, requires some explanation. Energy, then, implies
an activity or active state; it is opposed to dvvafxiQ, i.e. capa-
city, faculty, potentiality, inasmuch as the latter may be
dormant, and though capable of improvement, may be left
unimproved ; and it is possible for a thing to have the capa-
city of being, and yet not to be: as, for example, a coal has
the capacity for burning, and yet it may perhaps never do so.
Energy implies actual and active existence, not a mere possi-
ble or potential one. It is opposed to e%ic, habit, because by
means of it habits are acquired and formed.

Hence we can see the difference between an energy and a
work {'ipyov) when considered as ends or final causes of.
action. Whenever we enter upon a course of action, we have
one of two objects in view,—either the action itself, or some
production or work to which it leads. For example, a painter
paints either merely for the sake of painting, feeling an actual
delight in this active exertion of his faculty for its own sake,
or in order to produce a picture ; in the former case, his end
(rs\of) is an energy, in the latter a work. An energy, there-
fore, is perfect and complete, and has its end in itself, it looks
to nothing further, it is eligible for its own sake ; and laence
seeing, contemplating, being happy. &c., are energies.DMA P. II, j

ETHICS.

3

CHAP. II

What is " the good" of Man.

If, therefore, there is some end of all that we do, l.

which we wish for on its own account, and if we The chief
wish for all other things on account of this, and do is a
not choose everything for the sake of something re °Q'

else (for thus we should go on to infinity, so that
desire would be empty and vain), it is evident that
this must be "the good," and the greatest good.

Has not, then, the knowledge of this end a great 2.
influence on the conduct of life 1 and, like archers, Knowledge
shall we not be more likely to attain that which is of lt usefuL
right, if we have a mark? If so, we ought to
endeavour to give an outline at least of its na-
ture, and to determine to which of the sciences
or faculties it belongs.

Now it would appear to be the end of that which 3.
is especially the cMef-ahdr-igaa^ter science, and this
seems to be the/political science^ for it directs what ^ef°
sciences states ought to cultivate, what individuals political
should learn, and how far they should pursue them, science.
We see, too, that the most valued faculties are com-
prehended under it, as, for example, generalship,

economy, rhetoric. Since, then, this science makes 5.

use of the practical sciences, and legislates re-
specting what ought to be done, and what abstained
from, its end must include^ those of the others ; so
that this end must be the good of man. For al-
though the good of an individual and a state be the
same, still that of a state appears more important
and more perfect both to obtain and to preserve.
To discover the good of anmdividuaLi^^	6«

butltojliscover that of a state or a nation L<~more)
noblejind divine. This, then,'is the object of my
treatise, which is of a political kind.4

ARISTOTLE'S

[book i.

CHAP. in.

Thai Exactness depends on the nature of the subject. What
are the qualifications of the Ethical Student.

1.	The subject would be sufficiently discussed, if it
Exactness were explained so far as the subject-matter allows;
Pontile ^°r exac^ness is not to be sought in all treatises
subject- alike, any more than in all productions of mechanic
matter. art. But things honourable and things just, the

2.	consideration of which falls within the province of
political science, admit of such vast difference and
uncertainty, that they seem to exist by law only,
and not in the nature of things. Things good have
also a similar uncertainty, because from them ca-
lamities have befallen many. For some, we know,
have perished through wealth, and others through

3.	courage. We must be .content, then, when 'treat-
ing of, and drawing conclusions from such subjects,
to exhibit the truth roughly, and in outline; and
when dealing with contingent matter, to'draw con-
clusions of the same kind.

4.	According to the same rule ought we to admit
each assertion ; for it is the part of an educated man
to require exactness in each class of subjects, only
so far as the nature of the subject admits; for it
appears nearly the same thing to allow a mathema-
tician to speak persuasively, as to demand demon-
strations from an orator.

5.	Now each individual judges well of what he knows,
Requisites and of these he is a good judge. In each particular
gtudent°PCr sc*ence> therefore, he is a good judge who has been
8 n* instructed in them; and universally, he who has

6.	been instructed in all subjects. Therefore a young
Young men man js not a proper person to study political science,
students ^ for he is inexperienced in the actions of life: but

these are the subjects and grounds of this treatise.
Moreover, being inclined to follow the dictates of
passion, he will listen in vain, and without benefit.CHAP. IV.]

ETHICS.

5

fcince the end is not knowledge, but practice.0 But 7.

it makes no difference, whether he be a youth in A y°uth °r
• •	• ei novice tiic

age, or a novice in character; for the defect arises same#

not from age, but from his life and pursuits being
according to the dictates of passion; for to such
persons knowledge becomes useless, as it does to the
incontinent; but to those who regulate their appe-
tites and actions according to reason, the knowledge
of these subjects must be very beneficial. Concern-
ing the student, and in what manner he is to admit
our arguments, and what we propose to treat of, let
thus much be prefaced.

CHAP. IY.

What the highest Good is. False opinions of men concerning
it. Whether we should argue Analytically or Synthetically.

But let us resume the subject from the commence- 1.

ment. Since all knowledge and every act of deli- Subject re.
berate preference aims at some good, let us show
what that is, which we say that the political science c ^

aims at, and what is the highest good of all things
which are done. As to its name, indeed, almost all 2.

men are agreed ; for both the vulgar and the edu- ^efall0(^e
cated call it happiness: but they suppose that to happiness
live well and do well are synonymous with being but differ'
happy. But concerning the nature of happiness as to its
they ar* at variance, and the vulgar do not give the nature*
bame definition of it as the educated ; for some ima- '

gine it to be an obvious and well-known object—

such as pleasure, or wealth, or honour ; but different
men think differently of it: and frequently even the Diffeient
same person entertains different opinions respecting views.

c Such^ passages as these are proofs of what was stated in
note (a) ; viz., that the system of Aristotle is more practical
than that of Plato. It was this eminently practical turn o.

mind which led him to make his principal object not so much
philosophical speculation, as the induction of facts and phe-
nomena, and *-he definition of terms.6

ARISTOTLE'S

[book i,

it at different times ; for, when diseased, he belie vea
it to be health; when poor, wealth-; but, conscious
of their own ignorance, they admire those who say
that it is something great, and beyond ^iem. Some,

4.	again, have supposed that, besides these numerous
Flaio's goods, there is another self-existent good, which is
alluded to ^iese "^ie cause of their being goods.d Now, to

examine all the opinions would perhaps be rather
unprofitable ; but it will be sufficient to examine
those which lie most upon the surface, or seem to be
most reasonable.

5.	Let it not, however, escape our notice, that ar-
guments from principles differ from arguments to
principles; for well did Plato also propose doubts
on this point, and inquire whether the right way
is from principles or to principles; just as in the
course from the starting-post to the goal, or the
contrary.e For we must begin from those things

PvujpLjjLa. that are known; and things are known in two ways;

1.	aTrXujg. for gome are known to ourselves, others are gene-

2,	YSb\\j known; perhaps, therefore, we should begin
from the things known to ourselves.

7. Whoever, therefore, is to study with advantage
The student the things which are honourable and just, and in
should be a WOrd the subjects of political science, must have
sXcated ^een we^ an(^ morally educated; for the point from
whence we must begin is the fact, and if this is satis-
factorily proved, it will be unnecessary to add the
reason.f Such a student either possesses, or would

d Aristotle is here referring to Plato's theory of ideas or
original achetypal forms, which he discusses more at length
in chap. vi.

e The geometrical and algebraic processes furnish us with
excellent illustrations of synthetical and analytical reasoning ;
i. e. of reasoning airb t&v	Kai kiri tclq apx&G- In

the former we assume certain fixed principles, the axioms, &c.,
and from them deduce new results ; from them we proceed to
others, and so on. In the latter we assume the lesult as
given, and from these conditions investigate what causes,
i. e. what values, of the unknown quantity will produce it.

f Aristotle, in his Analytics, tells us there are four subjects
of investigation ; viz., to on, to Sioti, si zvti, t'i kcrri. The
knowledge of the si6ti constitutes the difference betw^eaCHAP. V.3

ETHICS.

easily acquire, the principles. But let Mm who pos*
sesses neither of these qualifications; hear the serti®
ments of Hesiod :—

" Far does the man all other men excel,

Who, from his wisdom, thinks in all things well.

Wisely considering, to himself a friend,

All for the present best, and for the end.

Nor is the man without his share of praise,

Who well the dictates of the wise obeys :

But he that is not wise himself, nor can
Hearken to wisdom, is a useless man."

Hesiod, Op. et Di., translated.

CHAP. Y.

That Happiness is neither Pleasure, nor Honour, nor Virtue,

nor Wealth.

But let us return to the point where we commenced i#

this digression; for men seem not unreasonably to Subject-
form their notion of " the good," and of happiness,

from observing the different lives which men lead. sume
The many and most sordid class suppose it to be
pleasure, and therefore they are content with a life
of enjoyment.

For there are three kinds of lives which are most 2.
prominent—first, that just mentioned ; secondly,
the political; and, thirdly, the contemplative.

Now, the vulgar appear entirely slavish, delibe- 3.

rately preferring the life of brutes 3 but they find a Opinion of
reason for what they do, because many persons in noWoi.
positions of authority are led by the same passions
as Sardanapalus.

But those who are educated,s and fond of active 4.
pursuits, suppose it to be honour, for this may be Of xaP'uv'
almost said to be the end of political life; but it TSQ and ,
appears to be too superficial for the object of our 7I7m/CTi,COic

empirical and scientific knowledge, as empirics know the fact
on, but not the reason 81 on.

s ol xaptwreg,—homines instruits (.Michelet).s

ARISTOTLE'S

[book i.

inquiry; for it seems to reside rather in those who
confer, than in those who receive, honour: but we
have a natural conception, that "the good" is some-
thing peculiarly one's own, and difficult to be taken

5.	away. Moreover, men seem to pursue honour in
It is not ; order that they may believe themselves to be good ;
honour. at any rate they seek to be honoured by wise men,

and by their acquaintances, and on account of vir-
tue : it is plain, therefore, that, at least in their

6.	opinion, virtue is superior. But perhaps it may
Nor virtue, rather be supposed that virtue is the end of the

political life; but this appears too incomplete, for
it seems possible for a man, while in possession of
j virtue, either to sleep or be inactive through life;
and besides this, to suffer the greatest misfortunes
and calamities. But no one would pronounce a man
happy who lives such a life as this, unless he were
defending a favourite hypothesis.11 Enough, there-
fore, of these things; for we have treated of them
7 sufficiently in our encyclic works.1
The con- ' The third life is the contemplative; which we
teirplative shall make the subject of fixture consideration.

But the money-getting lifek does violence to our
8* natural inclinations ; and it is obvious that riches
getting life. are n°t the good which we are in search of; for they

h The Stoics did defend this paradox, affirming that virtue
or wisdom constituted happiness, even in the midst of the
greatest misfortunes. See Horace, Sat. I. 3.

1 The philosophers of antiquity had necessarily two methods
of teaching, the one esoteric or acroamatic, addressed to those
who pursued science in a philosophic spirit; the other exoteric
or encyclic, adapted to those who were going through a course or
curriculum of general study. The exoteric treatises therefore
would, generally speaking, embrace the usual subjects of Athe-
nian liberal education ; but as the distinction is one depending
on the method of treatment rather than on the subject-matter,
the same subjects might be treated either esoterically or
exoterically, according to circumstances. The definition given
by Cicero (de Finibus, v. 5) is not correct.

k The meaning of the term (SiaioQ, as applied to the money-
getting life, is evidently that it does violence to our natural
instincts, which lead us to look upon money as a means, and
not an end; whereas the man who devotes himself to
getting mdney generally learns to consider it as an end.CHAP. VI.]

ethics.

are merely useful, and for the sake of some other I
end. One would therefore rather suppose, that " the*
good " is one of the ends before mentioned, for they
are loved on their own account; but even they do not
appear to be so, although many arguments have been
expended upon them. Let these things be dismissed
from our consideration.

CHAP. YI.

That " the Good" is not a universal, according to one idea

But perhaps it would be better to examine the 1.

theory of a universal good, and to inquire what is Plato's
J	65	.	doctrine

1 Previous to examining the nature of the doctrine itself, Usa.
it is important to observe that Aristotle does not attempt to
discuss the truth or falsehood of the Platonic doctrine of the
idea generally; but that the only object which he has in view
is to prove that the chief good is not an idea.

Hence he assumes as true, certain acknowledged positions
in the Platonic theory, and shows that these are inconsistent
with the belief in the ideal nature of the ayaQov. After
having done this, he dismisses the subject with the remark
that such a view would be utterly unpractical; whereas some-
thing practical is the object of his investigation. Let us now
proceed to examine what the Platonic doctrine of the idea
is. According to Platq, the sensible is in a state of continual
change, and consequently the sensible is not the true. But
the object of true science is to investigate what each thing is
of itself absolutely (to avrb siccurrovy to avTO KaO' avTo).

Hence he assumed that there existed from all eternity certain
archetypal' forms immutable and absolutely existent; and
that all else which exists, either physically or metaphysi-
cally, is only real so far as it participates in them (ju,fr£%a,
Koivu)viav ex€L)' These forms are the " ideas :" and the idea
may be defined, That which makes everything which is, to
be what it is," or " whatever exhibits an eternal truth, which
forms the basis of the mutability of the sensible." These were
the types (irapaddyiiaTa) after which God made all created
tilings, impressing their likeness upon matter	which was

itself also eternal, formless, yet fitted to receive form. From
the universal nature of the idea, it follows that there must be
ideas of all abstract qualities, such as the good, the beautiful,

the evil, health, strength, magnitude, colour ; also of all sensible
objects, such as a horse, a temple, a cup, a man; even of each10

ARISTOTLE'S

[book i.

meant by it, although, such an inquiry involves diffi-
culties, because men who are our friends have
introduced the doctrine of ideas. But perhaps it
would seem to be better, and even necessary, at least
for the preservation of truth, that we should even
do away with private feelings, especially as we are
philosophers; for both being dear to us, it is a
sacred duty to prefer truth.

2.	But those who introduced this doctrine, did not
Good is suppose ideas of those things in which they predi-

^osterior catec* priority and posteriority, and therefore they
^os^enor. no£ establish an idea of number.111 But.the.good
is predicated in substance, in quality, and in relation.
But the self-existent and the essence are naturally
prior to that which is related; for this is like- an
offshoot, and an accident of the essence ; so. that
there cannot be any common idea in these.

3.	Again, since the good is predicated in as many
eac^cate *n wa^s as being (for it is predicated in essence, as God
gory. " and intellect; and in quality, as the virtues ; and in

quantity, as the mean; and in relation, as utility ;
and in time, as opportunity; and in place, as a
habitation, and so on), it is evident, that it cannot
be anything common, universal, and one : for then

individual man; e.g., Socrates and Simmias. It is evident,
therefore, that we must not confound the Platonic idea with what
we mean by abstract ideas, which are properties, accidents, &c.
drawn off from objects, and contemplated separately; as,
e. g., we may contemplate the scent or colour of a flower.
Each of these, according to the Platonic theory, would have
its corresponding "idea;" but still, as we have shown, there
are other ideas which are not abstract. Nor did Plato teach
that the idea is arrived at by abstraction or generalization ; it
is self-existent, eternal, and becomes known to us in our pre-
sent condition by reminiscence ; having been previously known
to us in a former state of being.

m As Plato held with the Pythagoreans that number and the
elements of number were the elements of all things, therefore
the ideas must be identical with numbers. In order, therefore,
to understand the assertion that Plato did not form an " idea"
of numbers, we must be careful to distinguish between the
ideal numbers (apiO/xol eldijracoi) and the numbers which
admit of continuation (<rVfi^Xrjrof), which are the mathema-
tical ; to the latter Aristotle refers in this passage. See
Brewer's Ethics, Appendix, pp. 451-2.CHAP. VI.]

ETHICS.

11

it would not have been predicated in all the cate-
gories, but in one only.n

Again, since of things which are comprehended 4.

under one idea there is also one science, there would Also in the
then be some one science of all goods; but now same cate"
there are many sciences, even of goods which fall s°ry*
under the same category; as, for instance, under the
category of opportunity; for in war there is the
science of generalship, but in disease, that of medi-
cine,; and again, in the category of the mean, in
diet, there is the science of medicine ; in labours,

that of gymnastics.

But one might doubt as to what they mean by 5.
the term se^anything, since in self-man and man
there is one and the same definition of man ; for the'same.
as far as*fchey are man, they will not differ. But if
so, neither will the good and the self-good differ, so
far as they are good; nor yet will the self-good be
more a good from being eternal; if the white which
is of long duration is not whiter than that which
lasts but for a day.

But the Pythagoreans seem to speak more plausi- 6.

bly on the subject when they place unity in the
co-ordinate series of goods;° whom Speusippus °eany
also seems to have followed.	Speusip-

The subject, however, may be discussed in pus.
another point of view ; and what has been said

n The categories are certain principles of classification, and
are ten in number; viz. substance, quantity, quality, rela-
tion, action, passion, time, place, situation, possession. See
on this subject Whateley's Logic.

° The Pythagoreans held that there were ten universal
principles, which are exhibited in the following co-ordinate
columns or <yvoToi%/a :—

ivkpaq

TTSpLTTOV

EV

ds^iov
appev
■fipefiovv

evOv
<j)&Q

ayaBov
rerpayuivov

CLTCUpOV
dpTLOV

7rXrjOog

apiffrepov

SrrjXv

KLVOVflEVOV
icctfATrvXov

tcaicoy
ivi;0Oflt}K€€t12

ARISTOTLE'S.

[boor i.

admits of dispute, because our arguments are not
Goods di- applicable to every good;(out_those things -which
rided into are pursued and loved on^fEeir own"acnoirntj'Na.re
two classes, predicated under one species, whilst (jthe iikmgB
•—which produce these, or in anyway preserve.Jhfiirt,
or prevent the contrary, are said to be goods^pn
g. account of these, and after another manner. ) It is
evident, then, that goods may be so called in two
ways; some on their own account, the others-on
account of the former. Having, therefore, separated
those whicH'are good on their own account^ ..fojn
those which are useful, let us consider whether,, .they
are predicated under one idea.

9. Now, what kind of goods may we assume to be
goods on their own account? May we assume
all those which are pursued even when alone, such
as wisdom, sight, and some pleasures and honours ?
for these, even if we pursue them on account of
something else, one would nevertheless class among
things good on their own account: or is there no-
thing else good per se besides the idea ? so that, in
this view of the subject, the doctrine of the idea is
10. without foundation. But if these also belong to
the class of goods on their own account, the defini-
tion of good must necessarily show itself to be the
same in all these ; just as the definition of white-
ness in snow, and white lead; but of honour, and
prudence, and pleasure, the definitions are distinct
and different in the very point which constitutes
them goods. The good, therefore, is not anything

common under~ong'TdBar—--------.--- .

H t In what sense,™then~ is the term good predicated
of these different things? for they are not like
Different things which are homonymous accidentally; is it
things because they all proceed from one, or tend towards
railed^ one good? or is it not rather predicated analogically?
andogy°m ^or as ^ body sight is a good, so is intellect in
the soul; and, in like manner, different things are
goods under different circumstances.
12 But perhaps these questions should be dismissed
The doc- for th'3 present, for it would more properly belongCHAP. Vf.1

i^rHica.

13

to another branch of philosophy to discuss chem trine of this
minutely. The same observation may be applied idea^ot
to the doctrine of the idea; for if there is some c
one good predicated in common, or something sepa-
rate, independent by itself, it is obvious it would
neither be practical nor capable of being acquired
by man; but something of this kind is the object
of our present inquiry.

Perhaps, however, some might think that it were 14.

well to know it, with a view to those goods which *s ,
are to be possessed and acted upon; for having this 0f itus^ful 1
as a pattern, we shall better know the goods which
are so relatively to ourselves : and if we know them,

we shall obtain them. Certainly this position has 15.

some plausibility, but it appears to be at variance
with the sciences; for all of them, although aspiring
after some good, and seeking to supply that which is
deficient, omit the knowledge of this; and yet, that all
artists should be ignorant of an aid of such conse-
quence, and never inquire for it, is not at all reason-
able. It is likewise difficult to say how a weaver or 16.
carpenter would be benefited with reference to his Probablj
own art, by knowing the self-good ;P and how will not*
he who has contemplated the idea itself be a more
skilful physician, or a more able general? for the
physician .does not appear to regard health in this
manner, but the health of man, or rather, perhaps,

that of a particular individual; for he cures indi-
vidual cases. Let it be sufficient, then, to have
said so much on these subjects.

t In this point the opinion of Cicero is at variance with that
of Aristotle, for he believed that an artist would derive prac-
tical benefit from the mental contemplation of ideal excellence,

—Vide Cic. Orat. o. 3,14

ARISTOTLE'S

[BOOK £«

CHAR vrIX

What is the End of all Human Actions.

1.	Now let us again return to tlie good we are in
Subject search of, and inquire what it is ; for it seems to
Burned6" different ^ different courses of action and arts ;

for it is different in the art of medicine, in general-
ship, and in like manner in the rest. What then
is the good in each (l Is it not that, for the sake
of which the other things are done h Now in the
art of medicine this is health ; in the art of general-
ship, victory ; in architecture, a house ; in different

2.	arts, different ends. But in every action and delibe-
rate preference, it is the end ; since for the sake of
this all men do everything else. So that, if there
is any end of all human actions, this must be the
practical good ; but if more ends than one, these
must be it. By a different path, therefore, our
argument has arrived at the same point; and this
we must attempt to explain still farther.

3.	Since ends appear to be more than one, and of
^ood^the6St ^ese WG choose some for the sake of others, as, for
most final, instance, riches, musical instruments, and univer-
sally all instruments whatever, it .is plain that they
are not all perfect. But the chief good appears to
be something perfect; so that if there is some one
end which is alone perfect, that must be the very
thing which we are in search of; but if there are

4.	many, it must be the most perfect of them. Now
Ends are we say, that the object pursued for its own sake'is
tkree, more perfect than that pursued for the sake of

another ; and that the object which is never chosen
on account of another thing, is more perfect
than those which are eligible both by themselves,
and for sake of that other: in fine, we call that
completely perfect, which is always eligible for
its own sake, and never on account of anything
fcjlse,CHAP. VII.]

ETHICS.

15

Of such a kind does happiness seem in a peculiar 5.

manner ,to be; for this we always choose on its Happiness
own account, and never on account of anything else. ^arov and
Bat honour, and pleasure, and intellect, and every ^

virtue we choose partly on their own account (for alptrov.
were no further advantage to result from them, we
should choose each of them), but we choose them also
for the sake of happiness, because we suppose that
we shall attain happiness by their means ; but no one
chooses happiness for the sake of these, nor in short
for the sake of anything else.

But the same result seems also to arise from self- 6-
sufficiency, for the perfect good appears to be self-
sufficient; but we attribute self-sufficiency not to him being
who leads,for himself alone, a solitary life, but to him avrapKtQ.
who lives also for his parents and children, and wife,

and, in short, for his friends and fellow-citizens; since
man is naturally a social being. Some limit, however,

must be assigned ; for, if we go so far as to include
parents and descendants, and the friends of friends,

we may go on to infinity. But this must be made
the subject of future investigation. We define the 7.
"self-sufficient" as that which, when separated from Avrapm®
everything else, makes life eligible, and in want of defineil«
nothing ; and such we suppose the nature of happi-
ness to be; and moreover, we suppose it the most
eligible of all things, even when not reckoned toge-
ther with any other good ; but more eligible, doubt-
less, even when reckoned together with the smallest
good; for the part added becomes an excess of
good; but of two goods the greater is always more
eligible. Happiness, then, appears something per-
fect and self:sufficient, being the end of all human
actions.

But, perhaps, to say that happiness is the s.

greatest good, appears like stating something which
is already granted; and it is desirable that we
should explain still more clearly what it is. Per- What the
haps, then, this may be done, if we take the peculiar Yov ot
work of man ; for as to the musician, and statuary. man ls'
and to every artist, and in short to all who have16

ARISTOTLE'S

[book u

any work or course of action, tlie good and excel-
lence of each appears to consist in their peculiar
work ; so would it appear to be with, man, if there
is any peculiar work belonging to him. Are there,
then, certain peculiar works and courses of action
9. belonging to the carpenter and shoemaker; and is
there no peculiar work of man, but is he by nature
without a work 1 or, as there appears to be a cer-
tain work peculiarly belonging to the eye, the
hand, and the foot, and, in fine, to each of the
members, in like manner would not one assume a
certain work besides all these peculiarly belonging
to man 1

10. What, then, must this peculiar"work be? For
life, man appears to share in common with plants;
but his peculiar work is the object of our inquiry :
we must, therefore, separate the life of nutrition
and growth. Then a kind of aensitiyejife would
next follow; but this also he apoears to enjoy in
common with the horse, the ox, and every animal.

11 • There remains, therefore, a certain practical life of a
^defini" being which possesses reason; and of this one part is,
as it were, obedient to reason, the other as possessing
it, and exercising intellect. But this life also being
spoken of in two ways [according to energy and
Kar' ivsp- according to habit], we must take that according
ysiai*. -fc0 energy ; for that appears to be more properly so

12. called. Now if the work of man is an energy of
the soul according to reason, or not without reason ;
and if we say that the work of man, and of a good
man, is the same generically, as in the case of a
harper, and a good harper (and so, in short, in all
Kar' dpe- cases, superiority in each particular excellence being
ri}v	added to each particular work) ; for it is the work

of a harper to play, of a good harper to play well:
and if we assume the peculiar work of man to be a
kind of life, and this life an energy of the sou!
and actions performed with reason ; and the pecu-
liar work of a good man to be the same things
done well, and honourably; and everything to be
complete according to its proper excellence : if, IEH AT*. VII. J

ETHICS,

17

repeat, these things are true, it follows, that man's
chief good is " an eneri y of the soul according to
virtuebut if the virtues are more than one,

according to the best and most perfect virtue ; and
besides this, we must add, in a perfect life :<i for as %v
neither one swallow, nor one day, makes a spring;
so neither does one day, nor a short time, make a
man blessed and happy.

Let this then be the good in its general outlines ; 13.

for it is necessary, perhaps, first to sketcii, then
afterwards to complete the drawing. But it would (?ntimeo
seem to be incumbent upon every one to improve
and distinctly delineate the figures which are cor-
rectly sketched, and time would seem to be the dis-
coverer of such features, as these, or at least a good
assistant; whence also proceed the improvements
in the arts; for it is the duty of every one to sup-
ply deficiencies. But it is necessary to bear in 1*

mind what has been mentioned already, and not to
demand exactness equally in all subjects, but in
each according to its subject-matter, and just so far
as is appropriate to the system to which it belongs :

for the carpenter and geometrician examine a right
angle with different views j the one, so far as it is
useful for his work, whilst the other investigates its
nature and properties; for his object is the con-
templation of the truth, for he is a contemplator
of the truth. In the same manner, then, must we 15.

act in all other instances, that the mere accessories
may not become more numerous than the works

themselves. Nor, indeed, is the cause to be re- The °!"t

cnouffli

quired in all cases alike ; but it suffices in some, as without tb
for instance, in first principles, that their existence Siotl
be clearly shown; but the existence is the first
and the principle.

Now of principles some are perceived by indue-16*

tion, others by sensation, others by a certain habit,
and different principles in different ways ; but^re

i By a porfect life (j3Log rsXsiog) Aristotle meant, first, th«i
development.of life to the highest degree of perfection : aud$

secondly, Consistency from the beginning to the end.

/ .	a

/'IH

ARISTOTLE'S

[book i

must endeavour to trace each of them in the man-
ner in winch they are formed by nature ; and we
must use our utmost endeavours that they be well
defined, for that has great weight in the discussions
which follow. For the principle seems to be more
than the half of the whole, and many of the sub-
jects of our inquiry seem to become clear by m
of this.

CHAP. VIII.

That the Ancients agree with Aristotle on the subject of
Happiness.

1.	But we must consider the subject of happiness not
Different only as regards the conclusion which we have drawn,
shown*8 and the premisses from which our arguments are
to coincide derived, but also as regards the statements of others
in some concerning it; for all the properties of a thing
degree with accord with the truth ; but the truth is at once dis-
Aristotle cordant with falsehood.

2.	Now, goods being divided into three classes/ and
Happiness some being called external, others said to belong to
the°°d l°f sou^ an(* °thers to the body, we call those be-

e sou . longing to the soul, the superior, and good, in a
higher sense than the others; but we assume, that
the actions and energies of the soul belong to the

3.	soul. So that our assertion would be correct, accord-
ing to this opinion at least, which is ancient, and
allowed by philosophers, that certain actions and
energies are the end ; for thus it becomes one of the
goods of the soul, and not one of the external ones.

4.	Also, that the happy man lives well, and does
The happy well, harmonizes with our definition ; for we have
-man lives almost defined happiness as a kind of well living,
Soes well, and well doing.

r This threefold division of goods is due to tne Pythago
reans, and was adopted by the Peripatetics.—Cic. Acad*
i. o; Tusc* v. 85. Brewerw	\CHAP. mi.J

ETHICS.

19

Again, all tlie qualities required in happiness 5.

appear to exist in our definition ;s for to some it reqai-
seems to be virtue, to others prudence, and to Aristotle's
others a kind of wisdom: to some, again, these, or definition.'
some one of these, with pleasure, or at least, not with-
out pleasure; others, again, include external pros-
perity : but of these opinions, many ancient writers
support some; a few celebrated philosophers the
others; but it is reasonable to suppose that none
of these have totally erred, but that in some one
particular, at least, they are for the most part right.

Now with those, who say that it is every 6.

virtue, or some virtue, our definition accords; for It is aotive
to this virtue belongs the energy. But perhaps it virtue-
makes no slight difference whether we conceive the
chief good to consist in possession, or in use ; in
habit, or in energy. For it is possible^ that the 7.

habit, though really existing, should cause the
performance of no good thing; as in the case of a
man who is asleep, or in any other way is incapable
of acting : but that the energy should do so is im-
possible ; for of necessity it will act, and will act
well. But as in the Olympic games, it is not the 8.

most beautiful and the strongest who are crowned,

but those who engage in the conflict (for some of
these are the conquerors); thus it is those only who
act aright, who obtain what is honourable and good
in life. Moreover, their life is of itself pleasant; 9.

for to be pleased, is. one of the goods of the soul; It is essen-
but that is to every man pleasant, with reference fcia1^ Plea"
to which he is said to be fond of such a thing; as, sant'
for example, a horse to the man who is fond of
horses, and a spectacle to the man who is fond of
spectacles; in like manner also, things just to the
lover of justice ; and, in a word, virtuous things to
the lover of virtue.

8 These primary opinions respecting happiness our author
also enumerates in his Eudemean Ethics. The first he refers
to Socrates, Plato, and some others ; the second to Socrates .,

the third to Thales and Anaxagoras. Amongst those who
added external happiness, he mentions Xenocrates.—-.Hell,

quoted by Cardwell.

C 220

ARISTOTLE'S

[book i

10. Now the tilings that are pleasant to the gene-
rality of mankind, are at variance with each other,
because they are not naturally pleasant; but things
naturally pleasant, are pleasant to those who are
fond of that which is honourable; and such are
always the actions according to virtue ; so that to
these men they are pleasant, even of themselves.
Their life therefore stands in no need of the addi
tion of pleasure, as a kind of appendage or amulet,
but possesses pleasure in itself; for, besides what
has been said, the man who does not take pleasure
in honourable actions, has no title to be called good;
for neither would any person call that man just,
who takes no pleasure in acting justly ; nor that
man liberal, who takes no pleasure in liberal actions;
and in the other cases in like manner. But if
this is the case, the actions of virtue must be
pleasant of themselves ; and yet they are also
good and honourable, and each of these in the
highest ^degree, if, indeed, the good man judges
rightly concerning them ; but he judges as we said.
Xi. Happiness, therefore, is the best, the most honour-
The three %6le, and the most pleasant of all things; and
qualities these qualities are not divided, as in the Delian
included in inscripti0n : " That which is most just is most ho-

harminess

nourable, and health is the most desirable, and the
obtaining what we love the most pleasant :"u for
all these qualities exist in the best energies; and
these, or the best one of them, we say that happi-
12. ness is. But, nevertheless, it appears to stand in
External need of the addition of external goods, as we said;
goods con- for it is impossible, or not easy, for one who is
tribute to n(^. fu^g^ed with external means, to do honour-
able actions; for many things are done, as it were,
by means of instruments, by friends, by money, or

1 Hepicnrra were amulets suspended by the women round
the necks of children, to protect them against enchantment.—
Victor.

u The same sentiment occurs in the Creusa of Sophocles «
KaXXtcrrov kari rovvdiicov 7re<pvicevai,

Awlutov ds %yv avocrov' rfdiGTOV 81 ory
^ao6(TTi 0 wv ioij, jjlsO' rjiikpavCHAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

21

political influence. And if deprived of some things, 13>

naen sully their happiness, as, for instance, of noble Mi^or~
birth, good children, or beauty : for the man of not^estrw
deformed appearance, and of ignoble birth, and the it.
solitary and childless man, is not at all likely to be
happy : and still less perhaps is he likely to be
so whose children or friends are utterly "wicked, or
have been good, and are dead. As, therefore, we 14.

said, there seems to be need of the addition of this
sort of external prosperity; whence some people set
down good fortune as synonymous with happiness,
and others virtue.

CHAP. IX.

How Happiness is acquired.

Hence also a question is raised, whether happiness 1.
is acquired by learning, by habit, or by exercise of The origin
any other kind ; or whether it is produced in a of haPPi-

•	•	X16SS

man by some heavenly dispensation, or even by
chance. Now, if there is any other thing which is 2.

the gift of God to men, it is reasonable to suppose A divine
that happiness is a divine gift, and more than any-
thing else, inasmuch as it is the best of human
things. But this, perhaps, would more fitly belong-
to another kind of investigation : but, even if it be
not sent from heaven, but is acquired by means of
virtue, and of some kind of teaching or exercise, it
appears to be one of the most divine of things ;

for the prize and end of virtue seems to be some-
thing which is best, godlike, and blessed. It must 3,

also be common to many ; for it is possible, that by Common to
means of some teaching and care, it should exist in many-
every person who is not incapacitated for virtue.

But if it is better that people should be happy by 4.

these means, than by chance, it is reasonable to Chance no*
suppose it is so, since natural productions are pro- ^e^aus.e
3uced in the best way in which it is possible for ^eggappI"22

ARISTOTLE'S

[book i.

them to be produced ; and likewise tie productions
of art, and ot every efficient cause, and especially of
the best cause. But to commit the greatest and
the noblest of things to chance would be very

5.	inconsistent. Now the thing we are at present in
search of receives additional clearness from the
definition; for happiness has been said to be a kind
of energy of the soul according to virtue; but of
the remaining goods it is necessary that some exist
in it, and that others should be naturally assistant

6.	and useful, instrumentally. But this will agree
with what we stated in the beginning ; for we set
down the end of the political science as the good,
and this devotes its principal attention to form the
characters of the citizens, to make them good, and
dispose them to honourable actions.

7.	It is with reason, then, that we do not call an ox,
Brutes a l10rse, or any other beast, happy; for none of
be^called them are able to participate in this kind of energy,
happy. ^or this cause, also, a child cannot be called happy;
Nor chil- for from his time of life he is not yet able to perform
dren, ex- such actions; but those who are so called, are
cept from caj[ec[ happy from hope j for, as we said, there is
tion. need of perfect virtue, and of perfect life. For the

8.	changes of life are numerous, and the accidents of
Why (3iop fortune various; and it is possible for the man in
added^ ^ ^ie enjoyment of the greatest prosperity to become

involved in great calamities in the time of his old
age, as is related in the story of Priam, in the
Iliad ; and no man will call him happy, who has
experienced such misfortunes, and died miserably.

CHAP. X.

Solon's Opinion discussed. The relation of external prosperity
to Happiness.

1. Are we, then, to call no other man happy as long

Solon's as he lives, but is it necessary, as Solon says, to look
opinionCHAP. X.]

ETHTCS.

to tlie end But if we must lay down this rule, considered
is lie tlien happy when he is dead 1 Or is this alto- m two
gether absurd, especially in us who assert happiness 2<

to be a kind of energy 1 But if we do not call the
dead man happy, and even Solon does not mean
this, but that a person might then securely call a
man happy, as beyond the reach of evils and misfor-
tunes, even this assertion admits of some dispute.

For if there is some good and evil to the man who is 3.

alive, and who is not aware of it, there may be sup-
posed to be some to the dead man also, as honours
and dishonours, and the good and evil fortunes of
children and descendants generally. But this too 4.
occasions some difficulty; Lr when a man has lived
happily till his old age, and has died in the same
manner, it is possible that various changes may
happen to his descendants, and that some of them

v The story of Solon and Croesus is too well known to ren-
der it necessary to do more than refer the reader to Herod.

book i. c. 32.

What the opinion of Aristotle was respecting the condition
of the soul after death is difficult to determine, even from his
treatise De Anima ; and still more so from the brief and inci-
dental way in which he introduces the subject in this book, and
in Book III. c. vi. In fact, in both places he appears to
assume the views popularly held, those vague and undefined
instincts which dictated such passages as—

toOT£ TEOvTjKOTl
Tijnag irpoadiTTSiVj e'i rig ear' eicn X<*PL£-

Soph. Electr. 348,

md to reason on them without entering into the question of
their truth or falsehood. It is evident that there is a vast
difference between a belief in the immortality of the soul, and
a belief in the permanence of its personal identity hereafter.

The former doctrine could scarcely be denied by the philoso-
pher who held that the human soul was '' particula. divinse
animse but as after death it might be reunited to the essence
of which it had been previously a part, it was quite possible
to hold such a belief, and yet to have no personal interest in
a future state.

On the whoi'e subject of the opinions of ancient philosophers
respecting the condition of the soul after death, see a most able
note to Lecture III. of Humphrey's Hulsean Lectures for
1849 ; and on the particular views of Aristotle, see also Arch
bishop Whateley's Peculiarities of the Christian Religion,

page 120.2i

AUISTOTLE'S

[book

should'be good, and enjoy a life according to their
deserts, while others obtain the contrary one : but
it is clearly possible for them, taking into consider
ation the distance of time, to stand in every imagin-
able relation towards their parents. Now it would
be absurd, if the dead man were to participate in
their changes, and be at one time happy, and then
again miserable; and it would also be absurd, that;
the fortunes of children should not, in any instance,
or at any time, reach to and affect the parents.
5, But we must return to the doubt originally started;
This opi- for perhaps from its solution the present question
uion shown might receive elucidation. Now, if it is necessary to
absurd look to the end, and then to call every man happy, not
because he is, but because he has been, happy, how
can it be otherwise than absurd, if, when he is
happy, the thing which really exists in him shall be
unable to be truly said of him, because we do not
choose to call living men happy on account of the
changes of life, and because we have in our minds
conceived happiness to be something permanent,
and by no means easily admitting of change, and
because good and evil fortune come frequently
round to the same persons 1 for it is clear, that if
we constantly attend to the chances of fortune, we
shall frequently call the same man at one time
happy, and at another miserable, exhibiting the
happy man as a kind of chameleon, and as placed
upon an insecure foundation.

0, Or is this following of the accidents of for-
External tune in no way right 1 for goodness and badness
goods not do not depend upon these, but human life, as
essential to we gaj j stands in need of external goods as

IIclDDlIlCSS#	o

additions; but virtuous energies are the essen-
tial constituents of happiness, and the contrary
7. energies of the contrary to happiness. But the
question we have just started bears testimony to
the definition ; for stability does not exist in any
The ener- human thing so much as in virtuous energies ; foi
g;es	these seem to be more permanent even than tho

nermanent^ sciences, and the most honourable of these are like*JKAP. X.]

ETHICS.

25

wise tlie most stable, because happy men most fre-
quently and most constantly pass their lives in
them * for this seems to be the reason why there is
no forgetfulness of them. Therefore, the thing
which we are in search of will exist in the happy-
man, and throughout his life he will be of this
character ; for he always, or most of all men, will
live in the practice and contemplation of virtuous
actions, and he will bear the accidents of fortune
most nobly, and in every case, and altogether suit-
ably, as a man in reality good, and a faultless cube.w
But since the accidents of fortune are numerous, g.
and differ in greatness and smallness, small instances How far thj
of good fortune, and likewise of the opposite, clearly accident*
will not influence the balance of life; but great and ^ffe°trtune
numerous accidents, if on the side of good fortune, happiness,
will make life more happy, for they naturally unite
in giving additional embellishment, and the use of
them becomes honourable and good; but if they
happen on the other side, they crush and spoil the
happiness ; for they bring on sorrows, and are impe-
diments to many energies. But nevertheless, even 9.
in these, the honourable is conspicuous, whenever
a man bears with equanimity many and great mis-
fortunes, not from insensibility, but because he is
high-spirited and magnanimous.

But if the energies are the essential constituents 10.

of the happiness or the misery of life, as we said,

no happy man can ever become miserable; for he
will never do hateful and worthless actions ; for we
conceive that the man who is in reality good and
wise, bears every accident of fortune in a becoming
manner, and always acts in the most honourable
manner that the circumstances admit of, just as the
good general makes the most skilful use of the army-
he has, and the good shoemaker of the skins that
are given him makes the most elegant shoe, and all

w A good man is compared to a cube, as being the emblem
of perfection: "Aptyu) yap rsXna,—Arist. Rhet. iii. 11.

Similarly Horace says " in seipso totus, teres, ataue rotundus."

Serm. ii. 7.26

ARISTOTI ,E'S

1 HOOK I.

11, other artificers in the same manner. But if tliis is
the case, the happy man can never become miser-
alone can" a^e J yet he would not be perfectly blessed, if he
make a were to be involved in calamities like Priam's,
man mise- Not that for this reason he is variable, or easily
rable. liable to change ; for he will neither be moved
it . 12' from his happiness easily, nor by common misfor-
not vari- tunes, but only by great and numerous ones ; and
ble.	after these, he cannot become happy again in a

short time : but if he does at all, it will be after
the lapse of some long and perfect period of time,
having in the course of it successfully attained to
13. great and honourable things. What then hinders
us from calling that man happy, who energizes
according to perfect virtue, and is sufficiently fur-
nished with external goods, and that not for a short
time, but for the full period of his life h or must we
add, that he is to go on living in the same manner,
and die accordingly 1 since the future is to us invi-
sible. But happiness we set down as in every way
and altogether the end, and perfect. But if this be
A man true, we shall call those men blessed amongst the
must be living, in whom the things we have mentioned
blessed onl ex*s^ anc^ continue to exist, but only blessed
as a man. as men- And let these subjects have been thus
far defined.

CHAP. XI.

That the Good or Ill-fortune of Descendants and Friends
contributes somewhat to Happiness, and the reverse,

1. But it appears a very unfriendly idea, and one
Whether contrary to universal opinion, to suppose that the
are affected ^or^I,Ties descendants and friends do not in the
by the for- smallest degree affect the dead man. But since the
tunes of accidents of fortune that occur are numerous, and
the living.

* LKavtuQ KtxoprjyrjfJisvov, literally sufficiently equipped to
act his part on the stage of human life ; one duty of tbfl
%opr}y \g being to dress the characters suitably to their parts.CHAP. XT.]

ETHICS*

27

differ in various ways, and some of them come more
home, and others less, it seems to be a tedious and
endless task to discuss them individually; but per-
haps it would be sufficient if what we say were said
generally and in outline.

If, then, as in the case of misfortunes occurring 2.

to one's self, some have weight and influence in life,

while others appear lighter; the same exactly is the
case with those which happen to all our mends.

But it makes a great difference whether each mis- 3.

fortune happen to living or to dead persons; much Illustrated
greater difference than it makes in a tragedy/from Gree^
whether atrocious and horrible crimes are supposed trage^'
to have been committed previously, or form part of
the action of the play. We may then, in this way, 4.

come to a conclusion respecting the extent of this
difference ; or rather, perhaps, respecting the answer
to the question about the dead, and their participa-
tion in good and its opposites; for it appears from
these observations, that, even if anything reaches
them, whether good or evil, it must be weak and
small, either absolutely, or relatively to them ; or, if
not this, it must be of such extent and description as
not to make those happy who are not already happy,

nor to deprive those who are happy of their happi-
ness. Therefore the good fortune of their friends 5.

seems in some degree to affect the dead, and in like
manner their ill fortunes; but only in such a man-
ner and to such an extent as neither to make the
happy ifnhappy, nor to do anything else of this
kind.

y In the prologues of many Greek tragedies, previous
events are related, which form part of the plot without forming
part of the action of the drama. To these the words of Horace
will apply :—

" Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures,

Quam qure sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus."—A. V. 181,

See on this subject Cic. 3e Sen. xxiii.28

ARISTOTT F.'S

[book i.

CHAP. XII

That Happiness belongs to the class of things Honourable, and
not of things Praised.

1. These points being determined, let us next consider
Happiness happiness, whether it be one of things praised or
ItivauiQ. ra^ier filings honourable ; for it is clear that it is
not one of the faculties. Now, everything that is
Nor does ft Pra^sec^ seems "to be praised because it is of a certain
belong to character, and has a certain relation to something ;
§7raiverx. for we praise the just man, and the brave man, and
the good man generally, and virtue, on account of
their works and actions; and the strong man, and
the good runner, and every one else whom \ve praise,
because he naturally is of a certain character, and
has a certain relation to something that is good and
excellent.

3.	But this is clear from the praises that are given
to the gods; for they appear ridiculous when re-
ferred to us; but this happens because praises are
bestowed relatively to some standard, as we said.
But if praise belongs to things of this kind, it is
clear that it does not belong to the best things, but
something greater and better is bestowed upon
them, as also seems to be the case : for we predicate
blessedness2 and happiness of the gods, and of the
most godlike of men; and likewise of the most
godlike of goods; for no man praises happiness as
he would justice, but calls it blessed, as being some-
thing more divine and excellent.

4,	But Eudoxus also appears to have pleaded well for
Aristotle the claim of pleasure to the highest place; for he
Rgrees thought that its not being praised, when it was one
Eudoxus. goods, proved it to be superior to all things

praised; but God and the highest good are of this

,z The term fiaicapiog, m Latin " beatus," applies to per-
fect happiness; hence, in both the Greek and Latin churches,
these words have been used to express the happiness of the
saints ; e. g., o fiaicapioQ UavXog, Beata virgo, &c.; whereas,
tvdaifUMv (felix) applies to such happiness as it is possible fo<
a mortal to attain to.*hap. nis.]

ETHICS,

29

kind, for everything else is referred to these; for
praise is of virtue, for from this men are able to
perform honourable actions; but encomiums are of
works, as well bodily as mental. But to discuss 5.
these matters with exactness belongs perhaps more
properly to those who study encomiums; but for
our purpose it is clear, from what has been said, that
happiness is one of things honourable and perfect.
And this seems to be the case, from its being a
principle ; for, for the sake of this all of us do every-
thing else; but we assume the principle and the
cause of goods to be something honourable and
divine.

CHAP. XIII.

Concerning the Divisions of the Soul, and concerning Virtue.

But since happiness is a certain energy of the soul i.
according to perfect virtue, we must next consider Reasons
the subject of virtue ; for thus, perhaps, we should why we
see more clearly respecting happiness. But he who °?n'
in reality is skilled in political philosophy, appears tue.
to devote the principal part of his study to this ; for 2.
he wishes to make the citizens good and obedient
to the laws; but we have an example of this in the
legislators of the Cretans and Lacedaemonians, and
any others who may have become like them. But if
this is the peculiar study of political philosophy, it
is clear that the investigation would be consistent
with our original plan.

We must therefore next examine virtue, that 3.

is to say, of course, human virtue ; for the Why hu-
good which we were in search of is human good, man virtue
and the happiness, human happiness; but by
human happiness we mean, not that of the body,

but that of the soul; and happiness, too, we de-
fine to be an energy of the < soul. But if these 4.

things are true, it is evidently necessary for the And why-
political philosopher to have some knowledge of
what relates to the soul; just as it is necessarv 0 *ne so"30

ARISTOTLE'S

(book i

the man who intends to cure tlie eyes, to study the
whole body ; and still more, in proportion m poli-
tical philosophy is more honourable and excellent
than the science of medicine; and the best educated
physicians take a great deal of pains in acquiring a
knowledge of the human body.

5.	The student of political philosophy must therefore
The soul study the soul, but he must study it for the sake of
considered, these things, and only so far sm is sufficient for the

objects which he has in view; for greater exactness
requires more labour perhaps than the subject in

6.	hand demands. But some things are said about it
Its divi- sufficiently in my exoteric discourses ; and these we
sions. must make use of: as, for instance, that one part of

it is irrational, and the other possessing reason. But
"AXo'yov. whether these things are really separate, like the
members of the body, and everything that is capa-
ble of division; or whether, being by nature indi •
visible, they are only in word two, as in a circum-
ference the convex and concave side, matters not
for our present purpose.

7.	But of the irrational part, one division is like
"AXoyov that which is common, and belonging to plants;
subdivided that, I mean, which is the cause of nourishment
The and growth : for a person might assert that such a
vegetative, faculty of life as this exists in all beings that are

nourished, even in embryos, and the very same in
perfect beings: for it is more reasonable to call it

8.	the same than any other. The excellence of this
Virtue does part, therefore, appears common to other beings,
r°th*el°ng an<^ no^ Pecu^ar mai1 > f°r this part of the soul,
iX) 1S* and its faculties, seem to energize principally in

sleep; but the good and the bad man are in sleep
least distinguishable ; whence men say, that for
half their lives there is no difference between the

9.	happy and the miserable. But it is reasonable that
this should be the case; for sleep is the inaction of
the soul, so far forth as it is called good or bad ;
except if some emotions in a small degree reach
it, and in this manner the visions of good men
become better than those of the generality. ButCHAP. XIII.'J

HICS.

31

enough of these things, we must therefore put aside
the part which consists in noiTrishment, since it;
has naturally no connection with human virtue.

Now another natural power of the soul appears
to be irrational, but to participate in reason in some
sort; for we praise the reason of the continent and
incontinent man, and that part of the soul which is
endued with reason; for it exhorts us aright, and
to the best actions. But there seems to be in man
something else by nature contrary to reason, which
contends with and resists reason. For, in reality,

just as the paralyzed limbs of the body, when we
intend to move them to the right hand, are turned
aside the opposite w;ay to the left, so it is with
the soul; for the impulses of the incontinent are
directed towards the contraries. But in the case of
the body we see the part that is turned aside, in the
soul we do not see it; but perhaps we must no less
believe that there is in the soul something contrary
to reason, which opposes and resists it; but how it
differs it matters not. But this part also seems, as 12.
we said, to partake of reason; at least in the con-
tinent man it obeys reason ; but in the temperate or
brave man it is perhaps still more ready to listen to
reason : for in them it entirely agrees with reason.

The irrational part therefore appears to be two- 13.

fold; for the part which is common to plants does not
at all partake of reason; but the part which contains
the desires and the appetites generally in some sense
partakes of reason, in that it is submissive and obe-
dient to it. Thus, in fact, we say that a man has
regard for his father and friends, but not in the same
sense in which we use the expression \oyov zytlv ^n
mathematics.aa But the giving of advice, and all
reproaching and exhorting, prove that the irrational
part is in some sense persuaded by reason. But if jongS t0 ^
it is necessary to say that this has reason likewise, \6yov,
the part which has reason will be twofold also ; another

88 There is an ambiguity in the original whicii does net
exist in the translation, as \oyov ex£lv means, (1) pay regard
to, (2) to bear a ratio to, in the mathematical sens^

10.

The appe-
titive has a
capacity foi
submitting
to reason,
and a ten-
dency to
be opposed
to it.

11.32

ARISTOTL* ETHICS.	[book i♦

15. part properly and in itself, the other as though lis-
division is tening to the suggestions of a parent.

requisite.	a}so js divided according to this

difference ; for we call some of the virtues intellec-
tual, others moral—wisdom, and intelligence, and
prudence, we call intellectual, but liberality and
temperance, moral; for when speaking of the moral
character of a man, we do not say that he is wise
or intelligent, but that he is meek or temperate ;
but we praise the wise man also according to his
habits; but praiseworthy habits we call virtues.

bb The soul is considered by Aristotle as the only cause and
principle of all the phenomena of physical and intellectual life,
tyvxv therefore includes " animus " and " annua." His divi-
sion of \pvxri may be explained by the two following tables

A.

$vxv

fxspog aXoyov	Xoyov 't%ov

$VTlKOV	S7riQufA7]TLKbv KCLl OpSKTLKOV

Iusrexov [jlsvtoi iry \oyov.

T(ji \oy(fj tvuQov rip \oyip avriru

B.

fax1?

fitpog akoyov	Xoyov &xov

\pvriKOv r<£ koyy clvt'itelvov, ry X6y(p 7teWov. Xoyov

exov

KVpiMQ
teal sv
avTu'i.

The second table must be adopted if the rational part is sue,
iavided.28

BOOK II.

CHAP. I.

How Virtue is produced, and increased.

Virtue being twofold, one part intellectual and l.

tlie other moral, intellectual virtue lias its origin The origin

j.	r 11	j. I n .-!•	andmcrease

and increase for the most part irom teaching; there- of intel_

fore it stands in need of experience and time ; but lectual and

moral virtue arises from habit, whence also it has moral vir-

got its name, which is only in a small degree altered tue-

from £0o£.a Whence it is also clear, that not one

of the moral virtues springs up in us by nature, for 2-

none of those things which exist by nature expe- yirj
•	tuG is not

rience alteration from habit; for instance, the stone innate.

which by nature goes downwards could never be ^ ^

accustomed to go upwards, not even if one should cause it caa

attempt ten thousand times, by throwing it up, to be altered.

give it this habit; nor could fire be accustomed to

burn downwards; nor could anything else which

has one natural bent get another different one from

habit. The virtues, then, are produced in us neither 3.

by nature nor contrary to nature, but, we being

a Anglice " habit." rH9og is the result of the accumulation
of habits, i. e. character. Plato taught that the moral virtues
were not generated in us either by nature or by learning, but
were divinely bestowed. The Stoics rejected the twofold divi-
sion of the soul and of virtue, mentioned in Book I., and
asserted that they were all sciences. Hence Cicero says (de
Off. lib. iii.), temperantia est scientia. They believed, how-
ever, that the virtues were acquired ; for that there were
innate in us certain common ideas (icoivai evvoiai), cer-
tain " seeds of virtue," and " lights of nature," which could
be cultivated and brought to perfection. Aristotle, on the
other hand, denied the existence of innate ideas, and com-
pared the soul to a blank tablet, on which nothing was in-
scribed except to 7TS(pvKbQ, i. e. natural inclination.34

ARISTOTLE'S

[book it,

naturally adapted to receive them, and this natural

4.	capacity is perfected by habit. Further, in every
it.) Be- case where anything is produced in us naturally.

eet thtT We &St get the caPacities for doing these things, and
energies afterwards perform the energies; which is evident
first. ^ the case of the senses; for it was not from fre-
quently seeing or frequently hearing that we got
the senses, but, on the contrary, we had them first,
and then used them, and did not get them by
having used them. But we get the virtues by
having first performed the energies, as is the case also
in all the other arts; for those things which we
must do after having learnt them we learn to do by
doing them ; as, for example, by building houses men
become builders, and by playing on the harp, harp-
players ; thus, also, by doing just actions we become
just, by performing temperate actions, temperate,
and by performing brave actions we become brave.

5.	Moreover, that which happens in all states bears
Jf Le^s^ testimony to this; for legislators, by giving their
iators.1S citizens good habits, make them good; and this is

the intention of every lawgiver, and all that do
not do it well fail; and this makes all the differ-
ence between states, whether they be good or bad.

6.	Again, every virtue is produced and corrupted

Virtue and froni anc[ fcy means of the same causes ;b and in

vice arise vi	J	„ „	. ,3

from the	manner every art; for from playing on the

same cause, harp people become both good and bad harp-

players j and, analogously, builders and all the

rest; for from building well men will become good

builders, and from building badly bad ones ; for if

this were not the case, there would be no need of

a person to teach, and all would have been by

7.	birth, some good and some bad. The same holds
good in the case of the virtues also ; for by per-
forming those actions which occur in our inter-

b Actions produce contrary moral effects. Two men en-
gaged in the same pursuits, exposed to the same temptations,
may become, the one virtuous, the other viciofts. In the
order of nature, causes act uniformly, they cannot produce
opposite effects ; therefore, virtue does not come by nature.CHA.P. >1.]

ETHICS.

35

course with other men, some of us become just and
some unjust; and by acting in circumstances of
danger, and being accustomed to be fearful or con-
fident, some become brave and others cowards. The
same thing is true in cases of desire and anger ; for
some become temperate and mild, and others in-
temperate and passionate—one class from having
"behaved themselves in such cases in one way, and
the other class in another. In a word, the habits are 9.
produced out of similar energies; therefore, the ener- Import
gies which we perform must be of a certain cha- early
racter ; for, with the differences of the energies the e ucatl0ne
habits correspond. It does not therefore make a
slight, but an important, nay, rather, the whole
difference, whether we have been brought up in
these habits or in others from childhood.

CHAP. II.

That Excess and Defect destroy Virtue, but thai being in
the mean preserves it.

Since our present treatise is not for the purpose j.
of mere speculation, as all others are, for the object Why ae-
of our investigation is not the knowing whattions mu^
virtue is, but to become good (since otherwise ^r^nsi"
there would be no use in it), it is necessary to
study the subject of actions, and how we must
perform them; for these have entire influence
over our habits to cause them to become of a
certain character, as we have said. 2STow, to say 2.

that we must act according to right reason is a Explana-
general maxim, and let it be assumed; but we ^on
will speak hereafter about it, and about the dismissed^
nature of right reason, and its relation to the for the
other virtues.0 But this point must first be present,
fully granted, that everything said on moral sub- .

c Aristotle discusses the nature of right reason {opOeg
\oyog) in the sixth book.36

ARISTOTLE'S

[BOOK I'm,

jects ought to be said in outline, and not with ex-
actness ; just as we said in the beginning, that
arguments must be demanded of such a nature
only as the subject-matter admits; but the subjects
of moral conduct and of expediency have no stabi-

4.	lity, just as also things wholesome. But if the
^tiuC<imit treatment of the subject generally is of this nature,
of exact- less does it admit of exactness in particulars ;
ness. for it comes under no art or set of precepts, but it

is the duty of the agents themselves to look to the
circumstances of the occasion, just as is the case in
the arts of medicine and navigation. But although
the subject before us is of this description, yet we
must endeavour to do the best we can to help it.

5.	This, then, we must first observe, that things of
Actions this kind are naturally destroyed both by defect
admit of and excess (for it is necessary in the case of things
defect an cannot be seen to make use of illustrations

which can be seen), just as we see in the case of
strength and health; for too much as well as too

6.	little exercise destroys strength. In like manner
drink and food, whether there be too little or too
much of them, destroy health, but moderation in
quantity causes, increases, and preserves it. The
same thing, therefore, holds good in the case of tem-
perance, and courage, and the other virtues ;d for he
who flies from and is afraid of everything, and
stands up against nothing, becomes a coward; and
he who fears nothing at all, but goes boldly at every-

7.	thing, becomes rash. In like manner, he who in-
dulges in the enjoyment of every pleasure, and re-
frains from none, is intemperate; but he who shuns
all, as clowns do, becomes a kind of insensible man.
For temperance and courage are destroyed both by the
excess and the defect, but are preserved by the mean.

8.	But not only do the generation, and increase, and
destruction of these originate in the same sources and

d This assertion must be limited to the moral virtues, of
which he is now about to treat, as in the intellectual virtues
there can be no excess, it being impossible to carry intellectual
excellence to too high a point.CHAP. III.]

ETHICS.

37

through the same means, but the energies also will 9.
"be employed on the same;e for this is the case in Energies
other things which are more plain to be seen; as an^ habits
in the case of strength, for it is produced by taking act re°l"
much food and sustaining many labours ; and the
strong man is more able to do these things than
any other person. The case with the virtues is
the same; for by abstaining from pleasures we be-
come temperate, and when we have become so, we
are best able to abstain from them. The same also
is the case with courage ; for by being accustomed
to despise objects of fear, and to bear them, we
become brave, and when we have become so, we
are best able to bear them*

CHAP. III.

That Virtue is concerned vjith Pleasures and Pains.

But we must make the pleasure or pain which fol- 1.

lows after acts a test of the habits ;f for he who Pleasure
abstains from the bodily pleasures, and in this very ^ ^P^11
thing takes pleasure, is temperate ; but he who feels 0f0ur
pain at it is intemperate ; and he who meets dangers habits,
and rejoices at it, or at least feels no pain, is brave; but
he who feels pain is a coward; for moral virtue is con-
versant with pleasures and pains ; for by reason of
pleasure we do what is wicked, and through pain 2
we abstain from honourable acts. Therefore it is importance
necessary to be in some manner trained imme- of early
diately from our childhood, as Plato says/ to feel duration.

e For example, circumstances of danger produce, improve,

and educate courage; and it is in the same circumstances that
the energies of the brave man are called forth avnd exerted.

f This is another instance of the practical turn of Aristotle's
mind. We can scarcely have a more useful test. So long as
any uneasiness or pain is felt at doing any action, we may be
quite sure that the habit is imperfectly formed.

* Plato (de Leg. ii.) says, Aeyw roivvv riov 7raidu>v
waiCiKrjv elvai irpojTT/v x'lcrOrjdLv, ijdovrjv ical Xv7Ti]v»38

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ii.

pleasure and pain at propei objects, for this is

^ riglit education. Again, if the virtues are conver-
* sant with actions and passions, and pleasure and
pain are consequent upon every action and passion ,
on this account, also, virtue must be conversant
with pleasures and pains. Punishments also, which

4.	are inflicted by means of pleasure and pain, indi-
cate the same thing ; for they are kinds of reme-
dies, and remedies naturally work by contraries.
Again, as we said before, every habit of the soul
has a natural relation and reference fco those things
by which it naturally becomes better and worse.
But habits become bad by means of pleasures and
pains, by pursuing or avoiding either improper
ones, or at improper times, in improper ways, or
improperly in any other manner, which reason
determines.

5.	Hence some have even defined the virtues to be
Virtue is certain states of apathy and tranquillity ;h but not
not air a- correctly, in that they speak absolutely, and not in
9sia. relation to propriety of time or manner, and so on

through the other categories. Therefore virtue is
supposed to be such as we have said, in relation to
pleasures and pains, and apt to practise the best
things ; and vice is the contrary.

6.	These subjects may also become plain to us from
Additional the following considerations. Since there are three
consider- things which lead us to choice, and three to aver-
ations. si0n,—the honourable, the expedient, and the plea-
sant ; and three contraries to them,—the disgraceful,
the inexpedient, and the painful; on all these sub-
jects the good man is apt to be right in his actions,
and the bad man is apt to be wiong, and especially
on the subject of pleasure; for this is common to
all living creatures, and accompanies all things
which are the objects of choice; for both the
honourable and the expedient appear pleasant.

1. Again, from our infancy it has giown up with all of

h The Cynics, and after them the Stoics and Epicureans,
adopted this theory of virtue ; it is probable that Aristotle is
here alluding to it as an opinion held by Socrates.CHAP. IV.]

ETHICS.

S9

us j and therefore it is difficult to rub out this affec-
tion, which is, as it were, engrained in our very 8.
existence. Again, we make pleasure and pain the
rule of our actions, some of us in a greater, some in
less degree. For this reason, therefore, it is neces-
sary that our whole business must be with these
subjects; for, to feel pleasure or pain, properly or
improperly, makes no slight difference to our ac-
tions. Again, it is more difficult to resist pleasure
than anger, as Heraclitus says, and both art and
excellence are always conversant with that which
is more difficult; for excellence in this case is
superior. So that, for this reason also, the whole
business of virtue, and political philosophy, must
be with pleasures and pains; for he who makes a
proper use of these will be good, and he who makes
a bad use will be bad. Now on the point that 10.

virtue is conversant with pleasures and pains, and Virtue and
that it is increased and destroyed by means of the vlce' con"
game things from which it originally sprung, when with piea_
they are differently circumstanced; and that its sure and
energies are employed on those things out of which pain,
it originates, let enough have been said.

CHAP. IV.

Thai Men become just and temperate by performing just
and temperate Actions.

But a person may be in difficulty as to what we l.

nean when we say that it is necessary for men to How men
become just by performing just actions, and tem-
perate by performing temperate ones j1 for if they doing vJrm

1 The ethical student of course will not fail to consult on tuous ao
this subject Bishop Butler's Analogy ; he will there observe not tions.

only the parallelism between his moral theory and that of
Aristotle, but also the important distinction which he draws
between practical habits and passive impressions. " In like
manner," he says, "as habits belonging to the body are pro-
duced by external acts, so habits of the mind are produced by40

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ii.

do just and temperate actions, they are already just
and temperate ; just as, if they do grammatical
and musical actions, they are grammarians and

2.	musicians. Or, is this not the case in the arts also ?
lh? case for ft ^ possible to do a grammatical action acci-
the arts'1 cl ent>ally-, or at another's suggestion. A man, there-
and the f°rej only "then be a grammarian, when he not
virtues. only does a grammatical action, but also does it

grammatically, that is, in accordance with the
grammatical science, which he possesses in himself.

3.	Again, the case is not similar in the arts and in
What con- the virtues, for the productions of art have their
action exce^ence in themselves. It is enough, then, that
tuous. these should themselves be of a certain character ;

but acts of virtue are done justly and temperately,
not, if they have themselves a certain character, but
if the agent, being himself of a certain character,
perform them : first, if he does them knowingly }
then if with deliberate choice, and deliberate choice
on their own account; and, thirdly, if he does them

^ on a fixed and unchangeable principle. Now. as to
In the arts* ^ie possession of all other arts, these qualifications,
mere know- with the exception of knowledge, do not enter into
ledge is the calculation; but towards the possession of the
sufficient, virtues, knowledge has little or no weight; but the
other qualifications are not of small, but rather of
Just ac- infinite importance, since they arise from the fre-
tions. quent practice of just and temperate actions.

5. Acts then are called just and temperate, when
J use man. they are such as the just or temperate man would
do; but he who performs these acts is not a just
and temperate man, but he who performs them in
such a manner as just and temperate men do

the exertion of inward practical principles; i. e. by carrying
them into act, or acting upon them ;—the principles of obe-
dience, of veracity, justice, and charity. But going over the
theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking well, and drawing
fine pictures of it, may harden the mind in a contrary course,
and render it gradually more insensible; i. e. form a habit of
insensibility to all moral considerations. For from our very
faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being repeated, grow
weaker."—Anal. Part I. ch. vchap. v.]

£THICS.

41

ihem.k It; is well said, therefore, that from perform- 6.
ing just actions, a man becomes just; and from
performing temperate ones, temperate ; but witli-
out performing them no person would even be
likely to become good. But the generality of men 7.

do not do these things, but taking refuge in words, A common
they think that they are philosophers, and that in ®|T°r
this manner they will become good men; and what p
they do is like what sick jDeople do, who listen
attentively to their physicians, and then do not
attend to the things which they prescribe. Just as
these, then, will never be in a good state of body
under such treatment, so these will never be in
a good state of mind, if this is their philosophy.

CHAP. Y.

What is the " Genus " of Virtue. That it is a Habit.

But we must next find out what the genus of 1.

virtue is. Since, then, the qualities which have their In the sou.
origin in the soul are three,—Passions, Capacities, *£®r® are
and Habits,—Virtue must be some one of these. qUalit-es
By passions, I mean, Desire, Anger, Fear, Confi-2.

dence, Envy, Joy, Love, Hatred, Begret, Emulation, HaQr}.
Pity ; in a word, those feelings which are followed
by pleasure or pain ; by capacities, those qualities 3.
by means of which we are said to be able to be Awa/m;,
under the influence of these passions; as those by
means of which we are able to feel anger, pain, or
pity; by habits, those by means of which we are 4.

well or ill disposed with relation to the passions ;"E£tie.
as with relation to being made angry, if we feel

k Cicero, giving a short analysis of the doctrines of the Old
Academy and Peripatetics (nihil, enim inter Peripateticos et
illam veterem Academiam differebat), thus describes their doc-
trine of moral virtue :—" Morum autem putabant studia esse
et quasi consuetudinem (£9og) : quam partim exercitationis
assiduitate, partim ratione formabant; in quibus erat philoso-
phia ipsa. In qua quod inchoatum est neque absolutum pro-
gressio qusedam ad virtutem appellatur : quod autem absolutum,

id est virtus, quasi perfectio naturae."—Acad. i. 5. Brewer.42

ARISTOTLE'S

[booic II.

anger too vehemently or too remissly, we are ill
disposed; if we do it moderately, well disposed ;
and in like manner with relation to the others.

5. Neither the virtues, therefore, nor the vices are
tue and1" Paf?sions; because we are not called good or bad
vice are according to our passions, but according to our
not 7rcWif, virtues or vices, and because we are neither praised
nor blamed according to our passions (for the man
who fears or is angry, is not praised ; nor is the
iuan who is simply angry, blamed; but the man who
is angry in a certain way); but according to our

6* virtues and vices, we are praised or blamed. Again,
we feel auger and fear without deliberate preference;
but the virtues are acts of deliberate preference, or
at any rate, not without deliberate preference. But
besides these things, we are said to be "moved"
by our passions, but we are not said to be moved,
but in some way to be " disposed,"1 by our virtues

7.	and vices. For these reasons, also, they are not
U*or, capacities ; for we are neither called good nor bad,
ouvctfuig. nej|jier praisecj nor blamed, for our being able to

feel passions simply. And again, we have our
capacities by nature ; but we do not become good
or bad by nature; but of this we have already

8.	spoken. If, then, the virtues are neither passions
Virtue is nor capacities, it remains that they are habits.
*htg' What, therefore, the "genus" of virtue is, has been

sufficiently shown.

1 Aristotle (Categ. c. vi. 4) thus explains the difference
between disposition	and habit (t&g) :—" Habit is

more lasting and more durable than disposition. The former
term applies to the sciences, virtues, &c.; the latter to such
states as are easily and quickly changed ; as heat and cold, sick-
ness and health." This verbal argument is an indication of
the importance which the Aristotelian philosophy attaches to
language. Verbal arguments are seldom very conclusive, but
as doubtless words are the signs of things and ideas, there
are instances, like the present, in which such arguments are of
some value. The definition of terms was Aristotle's passion.

The following is, according to Aspasius, quoted by Miehelet,
the relation between	h'zpyein, and " Facultas a

nuturft insita jam est potentia qucedam, sed nondum vobis, ufc
loquimur, potentia, cujus ex ipso vigore operatio proftuat 5
bono demum potentiam philosophus habitmn vocat,"CHAP. VI.]

etiiics.

43

CHAP. YI.

That Virtue is a mean state, and how it is so.

But it is necessary not only to say that virtue is a 1.

liabit, but also what sort of a habit it is. We must7roia '^tq'
say, therefore, that eveiy virtue m both makes that
of which it is the virtue to be in a good state, ancl
makes its work good also ; for instance, the virtue
of the eye makes both the eye and the work of the
eye good ; for by the virtue of the eye we see well.

In like manner, the virtue of a horse makes a horse 2.

good, and good in speed, and in carrying its rider,

and in standing the attack of the enemy. If, then,

this is the case in all instances, the virtue of man
also must be a habit, from which man becomes
good, and from which he will perform his work well.

But how tins will be, we have already stated." And 3.

again, it will be made manifest in the following
manner, if we investigate the specific nature of isaniean
virtue. Now, in all quantity, continuous or dm- (/<l<rof.)
sible, it is possible to take the greater, the less, or
the equal) and these either with relation to the
thing itself, or to ourselves ; but the equal is some 4.

mean between excess and defect. But by the mean This is
with relation to the tiling itself, I mean that which twofoW'
is equidistant from both of the extremes, and this 1. Tow
is one and the same in all cases; but b}r the mean, np"WlC1-
with relation to ourselves, I mean that which is S°"
neither too much nor too little for us. But this 2 n ^
is not one and the same to all; as, for example, if
ten is too many, and two too few, six is taken for tive).
the absolute mean, for it exceeds two as much as it
is exceeded by ten. But this is the mean according 5.
to arithmetical proportion. But the relative mean

" The word c'lptrt) means not only moral virtue but the
excellence and perfection of anything whatever. Thus Cicero
says (dc Leg. i. 8) : " Est nut em virtus nihil aliud qunm in se
perfecta et ad summum perducta natura."

n See Book II. ch. ii.44

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ii.

is not to be taken in tliis manner; for it does not
follow, that if ten pounds are too much for any per-
son to eat, and two pounds too little, the training-
master will prescribe six pounds; for perhaps this
is too much or too little for the person who is to
eat it. For it is too little for Milo,0 but too much
for one just commencing gymnastics ; and the case
is similar in running and wrestling. Thus, then,
Virtue every person who has knowledge shuns the excess
relative16 7anc^ defect, but seeks for the mean, and chooses
mean.	j not the absolute mean, but the relative one.

6.? If, then, every science accomplishes its work
Why virtue well, by keeping the mean in view, and directing
a°mean m wor^s "to & (whence people are accustomed to
say of excellent works, that it is impossible to take
anything away, or add anything to them, since excess
and defect destroy the excellence, but the being in
the mean preserves it), and if good artisans, as we
may say, perform their work, keeping this in view,
then virtue, being, like nature, more accurate and
excellent than any art, must be apt to hit the
mean. But I mean moral virtue; for it is con-
versant with passions and actions ; and in these
there is defect and excess, and the mean; as, for
....	example, we may feel fear, confidence, desire, anger,

pity, and, in a word, pleasure and pain, both too
much and too little, and in both cases improperly.
But the time when, and the cases in which, and
the persons towards whom, and the motive for
which, and the manner in which, constitute the
mean and the excellence; and this is the character-
istic property of virtue.

8. In like manner, in actions there are excess and
defect, and the mean; but virtue is conversant
with passions and actions, and in them excess is
wrong, and defect is blamed, but the mean is praised^
and is correct; and both these are properties of

• The story of Milo is well known :—

" Remember Milo's end,

Wedged in the timbers which he strove to rend."

Roscommon.wHAP. VI. J

ETHICS

45

virtue. Virtue, then, is a kind of mean state, being
at least apt to hit the mean. Again, it is pos- 9,

sible to go wrong in many ways (for evil, as the To hit the
Pythagoreans conjectured, is of the nature of the ™ean is
infinite, but good of the finite P) ; but we can go difficult*
right in one way only ; and for this reason the
former is easy, and the latter difficult; it is easy to
miss a mark, but difficult to hit it; and for these
reasons, therefore, the excess and defect belong to
vice, but the mean state to virtue; for, " we are
good in one way only, but bad in all sorts of
ways."

Virtue, therefore, is a " habit, accompanied with 10.
deliberate preference, in the relative mean, defined
by reason, and as the prudent man would define
it." It is a mean state between two vices, one
in excess, the other in defect; and it is so, more-
over, because of the vices one division falls short
of, and the other exceeds what is right, both in
passions and actions, whilst virtue discovers the
mean and chooses it. Therefore, with reference 11.

to its essence, and the definition which states its Virtue is
substance,virtue is a mean state ; but with re- also an
ference to the standard of " the best" and " the /
excellent," it is an extreme. But it is not every ' '
action, nor every passion, which admits of the 12 >

mean state; for some have their badness at once
implied in their name ; as, for example, malevolence,
shamelessness, envy ; and amongst actions, adultery,

theft, homicide. For all these, and such as these,

are so called from their being themselves bad, not
because their excesses or defects are bad. In these,

then, it is impossible ever to be right, but we must IS.
always be wrong. ]STor does the right or wrong in
such cases as these depend at ail upon the person
with whom, or the time when, or the manner in

p See the co-ordinate catalogue of goods adopted by the
Pythagoreans, given p. 11„

* The original expression, here translated " substance," is
ro tl 7jv tlvai' literally, "the being what it is." This is
equivalent to " substance or essential nature."46

ARISTOTLE'S

[boor 11.

which, adultery is committed; but absolutely the
doing of any one of these things is wrong. It
would be equally absurd, then, to require a mear*
state, and an excess, and a defect, in injustice, and
cowardice, and intemperance. For thus there would
14. be a mean state of excess and defect, and an excess
of excess, and a defect of defect. But just as there
is no excess and defect of temperance and courage
(owing to the fact that the mean is in some sense
an extreme), so neither in the case of these is
there a mean state, excess, or defect; but however
they be done, sin is committed. For, in a word,
there is neither a mean state of excess and defect,
nor an excess and defect of a mean state.

CHAP. YII.

An Enumeration of Mean Habits.

1.	But it is necessary that this should not only be
An indue-	stated generally, but that it should also be applicable:
fcion of	^]ie particular cases : for in discussions on subiects
virtues to	^oral action, universal statements are apt to be
show that	too vague, but particular ones are more consistent
virtue is a	with truth; for actions are conversant with par-
mean.	ticulars; but it is necessary that the statements

should agree with these. These particulars, then,

2.	we must get from the diagram.1 Now, on. the
Courage, subject of fear and confidence, courage is the mean

state. Of the persons who are in excess, he who is
in the excess of fearlessness has no name ; but
there are many cases without names; and he who
is in the excess of confidence, is called rash ; but
he who is in the excess of fear, but in the defect
of confidence, is cowardly.

3.	On the subject of pleasures and pains (but not all
ance^61"" pleasures and pains, and less in the case of pains

r Probably some diagram to which he referred during the
oral delivery of his lectures.CHAP. VII.]

ETHICS,

47

than pleasures), temperance is the mean state, and
intemperance the excess. But there are, in fact,

none who are in the defect on the subject of
pleasures; therefore these also have no name; but
let them be called insensible.

On the subject of the giving and receiving of
money, liberality is the mean state, and the excess ^beialltI
and defect, prodigality and illiberality. But in
these, the excess and defect are mutually contrary
to each other; for the prodigal man is in the
excess in giving money, but is in the defect in re-
ceiving ; but the illiberal man is in the excess in
receiving, but in the defect in giving. Now, there-
fore, we are speaking on these points as in an out-
line, a.nd summarily, because we consider this suffi-
cient ; but afterwards more accurate distinctions shall
be drawn respecting them.

But on the subject of money there are other dis- 5.
positions also : magnificence is a mean state; but Magnifi-
the magnificent man differs from the liberal man; cence*
for one has to do with great things, the other with
small ones; the excess is bad taste and vulgar pro-
fusion, the defect shabbiness. But these differ from
tbe vices which are related to liberality ; but their
points of difference shall be stated hereafter.

On the subject of honour and dishonour, mag- 6.
nanimity is the mean ; the excess, a vice called Magnani-
empty vanity; the defect, meanness of spirit.	mlty*

But as we said that liberality, when compared 7.

with magnificence, differed from it in being con- Anony-
cerned with small things, so there is a kind of feeling
which, being itself about small honour, has the same
relation to magnanimity, which is about great ho-
nour ; for it is possible to desire honour as we ought,
and more than we ought, and less than we ought.

Now he who is in the excess in the desire of honour 8.
is called ambitious, and he who is in the defect
unambitious, but he that is in the mean has no
name; and the dispositions are likewise nameless,

except that of the ambitious, which is called ambi-
tion ; and from this cause the extremes claim the48

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ix.

9.	middle place. And we sometimes call him who fs
in the mean ambitious, and sometimes unambitious ;
and sometimes we praise the ambitious man, and
sometimes the man who is unambitious. But here-
after the reason why we do this will be explained ;
but now let us go on speaking of the others in the
way in which we have begun.

10.	There are also on the subject of anger an excess.
Meekness. a defect, and a mean state; but since they may be

said to be nameless, and as we call him who is in
the mean meek, we will call the mean meekness;
but of the extremes, let him who is in excess be
called passionate, and the vice passion; him who is
in defect insensible to anger, and the defect insensi-
bility to anger.

1 There are also three other mean states, which are
aocte^vfr s0111^*1^ alike, but yet differ from each other ; for
tues. they all have to do with the intercourse of words
and actions; but they differ, in that one respects
truth,; the other two pleasantness ; and of this
there is a subdivision, namely, pleasantness in sport,
and pleasantness in all things which concern

12.	life. We must therefore treat of these also,
in order to see more distinctly that the mean
state is in all cases praiseworthy, and the ex-
tremes neither right nor praiseworthy, but blame-

13.	able. ]STow the greater number of these likewise
are nameless; but we must endeavour, as in
the other cases, to make names ourselves, for the

14-	sake of clearness and perspicuity. On the sub-
ject of truth, therefore, let him who is in the mean
be called truthful, and the mean truthfulness j but
the pretence to truthfulness on the side of excess is
arrogance, and he who has it is arrogant; that on
the side of defect is false modesty, and the person

15-	falsely modest. On the subject of pleasantness in
sport, he who is m the mean is a man of graceful
wit, and the disposition graceful wit;s the excess
ribaldry, and the person ribald ; he who is in defect

8 EvTfjctTreXia. Sse note to translation of Rhet c. ii. 12,
p. 152.CHAP. VII.]

ETHICS.

49

a clown, and the habit clownishness. With respect lti.
to the remaining pleasantness, namely, in all things
which concern life, he who is pleasant as he should
be is friendly, and the mean state friendliness; he
who is in excess, if it be done without any object in
view, is over-complaisant, if for his own advantage,
a flatterer ; but he who is in the defect, and in all
cases unpleasant, is quarrelsome and morose.

But there are also mean states both in the pas- 17.
sions and also in cases which concern the passions ; The pas-
for modesty is not a virtue ; and yet the modest man ^^gtv
is praised ; for in this case also there is one who is
said to be in the mean, another in the extreme, of
excess (as the bashful, who is ashamed at every-
thing) ; the man who is deficient in shame, or does
not feel it at all, is impudent; but he who is in the
mean is modest. But indignation1 is a mean state 18.
between envy and malevolence; but these affections Indig-
are concerned with the pain and pleasure which are natlon«
felt at the circumstances of our neighbours ; for
he who is apt to feel indignation, feels pain
at those who are undeservedly successful; but the
envious man, going beyond him, feels pain at every
one's success; and the malevolent man falls so far
short of being pained, that he evon rejoices. But 19.
in another place, also, we shall have an opportunity
of speaking of these things, and on the subject of
justice11 also, since the word is used not in one sense
only. Afterwards we will divide these subjects,
and state respecting each in what way they are
means. We will in like manner treat of the in-
tellectual virtues.

* On the subject of indignation (vkfiscnQ} see Rhetoric,

Book II. ch. ix.

u Justice is treated of in Book V. The view which Aris-
totle there takes of it is exactly that which we should expect
of one who considers ethics as a branch of political science, for it
will be seen that he considers Justice as a link between Ethics
and Politics, the connecting virtue between the individual and
the social community.

E50

AKKSTOTLE

book n«

CHAP. YIII.

How Virtues and Vices are opposed to one another.

1.	But since thgre are three dispositions,—two vicioun,
The mean 0ne in excess and the other in defect, and one
and the virtuous, namely, the mean state, they are all in
are opposed sonie sense opposed to each other ; for the extremes
in three are opposed both to the mean state and to each
ways. other, and the mean state to the extremes. For as

2.	the equal when compared with the less is greater,
The mean an(j when compared with the greater is less; so
tremes6X" ^ie mean states when compared with the defects

•are in excess, and when compared with the excesses
are in defect, both in the passions and in the
actions; for the brave man in comparison with
the coward appears rash, and in comparison with

3.	the rash man a coward. In like manner also the
temperate man in comparison with the insensible
is intemperate, and in comparison with the intem-
perate is insensible ; and the liberal man in com-
parison with the illiberal is prodigal, and in com-
parison with the prodigal is illiberal.

4.	Therefore those who are in the extreme thrust
away from them him who is in the mean state, each
to the other, and the coward calls the brave man
rash, and the rash man calls him a coward; and so

5.	on in the other cases. But though they are thus
The ex- opposed to each other, there is a greater opposition
tremes to between the extremes one to the other, than to the
eac 1 ot er* mean ; for these stand farther apart from each

other than from the mean; just as the great is
further from the small, and the small from the

6.	great, than either from the equal. Again, there
appears in some extremes some resemblance to the
mean, as rashness seems to resemble courage, and pro-
digality liberality ; but there is the greatest dissimi-
larity between the extremes. Now things that are
furthest apart from each other are defined to beCHAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

dl

opposites ; so that those that are farther off are more
opposite. But in some cases the defect is more op-
posed to the mean, and in some cases the excess; Extremes to
• as, for example, rashness, which is the excess, is not the means

so much opposed to courage as cowardice, which is m two#_

the defect; and insensibility, which is the defect, avrov
is less opposed to temperance than intemperance, rov 7rpay-
which is the excess.	fiaroQ.

But this happens for two reasons; the first from
the nature of the thing itself; for from one extreme 2\

being nearer and more like the mean than the
other, it is not this but its opposite which we set
down as most opposite; as, since rashness appears
to be nearer and more like courage than cowardice,
and cowardice less like than rashness, we oppose
cowardice to courage rather than rashness, because
those things that are further from the mean appear
to be more opposite to it. This, therefore, is one 9.

reason arising from the nature of the thing itself;

the other originates in ourselves; for those things
to which we are more naturally disposed, appear to
be more contrary to the mean; as, for instance, we
are more naturally disposed to pleasures, and there-
fore we are more easily carried away to intem-
perance than to propiiety of conduct. These, then,

to which the inclination is more decided, we call
more opposite ; and for this reason, intemperance,

which is the excess, is more opposite to temperance.

CHAP. IX.

How we shall arrive at the Mean and at Excellence.

Now that moral virtue is a mean state, and how, 1.
and that it is a mean state between two vices, one Recapitu-
on the side of excess, and the other on the side of 5^°^° ie
defect; and that it is so from being apt to aim at book>
the mean in. passions and actions, has been suffi-
ciently proved. It is therefore difficult also to be 2.52

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ii.

Difficult good; for in each, case it is difficult to find the
to be good, mean ; just as it is not in every man's power, but
only in the power of him who knows how, to find the
centre of a circle ; and thus it is easy, and in every
man's power, to be angry, and to give and spend
Rules for money; but to determine the person to whom, and
discovering the quantity, and the time, and the motive, and the
ie mean. manrLer? js no longer in every man's power, nor is
it easy therefore excellence is rare, and praise-

3# worthy, and honourable. It is therefore needful
1st rule. for him who aims at the mean, first to keep away
from that extreme which is more contrary, like
the advice that Calypso gave :v

" Keep the ship clear of this smoke and surge.''

For of the extremes, one is more and one les?
erroneous.

4.	Since, then, it is difficult to hit the mean exactly,
we must, as our second trial,w choose the least of
these evils; and this will be best done in the man-

2nd rule, ner which we have stated. But it is necessaiy to
consider to which of the vices we ourselves are
most inclined; for some of us are naturally dis-
posed to one, and some to another; and this we
shall be able to discover from the pleasure and
pain which arise in us. But it is necessary to drag
ourselves away towards the opposite extreme; for
by bringing ourselves far from the side of error, we
shall arrive at the mean ; as people do with crooked

5.	sticks to make them straight. But in every case
3rd rule, we must be most upon our guard against what is

pleasant, and pleasure, for we are not unbiassed5

T Aristotle has here evidently quoted from memory, and
substituted Calypso for Circe. See Horn. Od. xii. 219.

" Bear wide thy course, nor plough those angry waves,
Where rolls yon smoke, yon trembling ocean raves."

Pope.

w The proverb u Kara rov devrspov ir\ovv" is thus ex-
plained by the Scholiast to the Phsedo of Plato :—" Those
who fail in their first voyage, make secure preparations foi
+&&& second."

* ddeKadroL' literally, unbribed. The origin of this woyd is
unknown, except so far as that it is derived from fojcd, 1en.CHAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

53

judges of it. Just, then, as the Trojan elders felt
respecting Helen/ must we feel respecting plea-
sure, and in all cases pronounce sentence as they
did; for thus, by " sending it away," we shall be
less likely to fall into error. By so doing, then, to
speak summarily, we shall be best able to hit the
mean. But perhaps this may be difficult, and &
especially in particular cases ; for it is not easy to
define the manner, and the persons, and the occa-
sions, and the length of time for a person to be
angry; for we sometimes praise those who are in
the defect, and call them meek • and sometimes
those who are easily angered, and call them manly.

But he who transgresses the right a little is not
blamed, whether it be on the side of excess or Difficult
defect, but he who does it too much; for he does ^jggprecis8
not escape notice. But it is not easy to define
verbally how far, and to what point, a man is blame-
able, nor is anything else that is judged of by the
common feeling and sense of mankind easy to be
defined ; but such questions as these belong to par-
ticular cases, and the decision of them belongs to
moral perception. "What we have said hitherto,

therefore, proves, that the mean state is in every
case praiseworthy, but that we must incline *
sometimes towards excess, and sometimes towards
deficiency; for thus we shall most easily hit the
mean and that which is excellent.

Avkov deic&q was a term applied to Athenian dicasts who were
bribed, and Askcktijlov ypcupri was an action brought against 8
person for bribing another.

y See Horn. Iliad, iii. 158.

- " What winning graces ! what majestic mien !

She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen 1
Yet hence, O heaven ! convey that fatal face,

And from destruction save the Trojan race."

Pope's Hasher, iii. 207®a4

BOOK III.

CHAP. I.

What is the Voluntary, and what the Involuntary.

SiiccEj then, virtue is conversant with passions anu
actions, and praise and blame are bestowed on
and invo- voluntary acts, but pardon, and sometimes pity, oil
luntary. those which are involuntary, it is perhaps necessary
for those who study the subject of virtue to define
what is the voluntary and what is the involuntary.
It is moreover useful to legislators, for the regula-
tion of rewards and punishments.

2.	Now, it appears that those things which are done
Axovcria. ^ cons{,raint, or through ignorance, are involun-
rt w' tary ;a and that is done by compulsion, of which
ayvoiav. the principle is external, and is of such character
BLaiov. that the agent or patient does not at all contribute

* towards it; as, for example, if the wind should

3.	carry a man anywhere, or persons having supreme
Mi/crai authority over him. But all those actions which

are ^one	the fear of greater evils, or be-

cuities1 " canse something honourable,—as if a tyrant,
respecting having in his power our parents and children,
them ex- should order us to do some base deed, and they
plained.

a Since those actions are voluntary of which the principle is
in the agent, he not being ignorant of the particular circum-
stances, an act is involuntary if one of the two conditions
which constitute voluntariness is wanting. If the agent
knows the circumstances, but the principle is external, the act
is done by compulsion ; if the principle is internal, but the
agent is ignorant of the circumstances, it is done through igno-
rance. Aristotle has omitted the third kind of involuntary
actions, viz., where both conditions are wanting \e.g. where
there is an external force, sucn as sleep, insanity, drunkenness,
impelling us to act by means of ignorance of the crrrum-
utsaces.—MicheletChap, i.]

ETHICS.

55

in. the case of our obedience should be saved,

but in the case of our refusal should be put to
death,—it admits of a question whether they are
involuntary or voluntary. Something of this land 4,

happens likewise in the case of throwing things
overboard in a storm; for, abstractedly, no one
voluntarily throws away his goods, but for his
own and his companions' safety every sensible man
does it.

Such actions as these, therefore, are of a mixed 5.
character; but they resemble voluntary acts most, for Reasons
at the time of their performance they are eligible, ™ Q^fc r(fy
and the end of the action depends upon the time of semble tha
performance. An act, therefore, is to be called volun- kKovuia.
ta/ry and involuntary at the time when a man does 6*
it. But he does it voluntarily, for the principle of
moving the limbs, which are used as instruments,

rests in such actions with the man himself; and
where the principle is in himself, the doing or not
doing the actions is in himself also. Such actions 7.
as these, therefore, are voluntary, but abstractedly
they are perhaps involuntary, for no person would
choose anything of the kind for its own sake. In Sometimes
such acts as these people are sometimes even praised and
praised, whenever they undergo anything disgrace- ™es
ful or painful for the sake of great and honourable
consequences, but if it be the reverse, they are
blamed ; for to undergo very disgraceful things for
no honourable or adequate cause is a mark of a
worthless man. But in some cases praise is not 8.
bestowed, but pardon, when a man does what he pardoned
ought not to do, owing to causes which are too or no *
strong for human nature, the pressure of which no
one could support. But there are some things 9.

which it is wrong to do, even on compulsion, and
a nr^n ought rather to undergo the most dreadful
sufferings, even death, than do them; for the causes
which compelled the Alcmseon of Euripides b to
fill his mother appear ridiculous.

b This play of Euripides being lost, it is not known what
the ridiculous causes are to which Aristotle alludes.56

ARISTOTLE'S

Cboor Ul.

10- Bab it is sometime hard to decide wbat kind of
tiling we ought to choose in preference to another,
and what thing in preference to another we ought
to undergo ; ana ^till more difficult is it to abide by
the decisions we make ; for, for the most part, what
we are expecting is painful, and what we are com-
pelled to do is disgraceful; and hence praise and
blame are bestowed with reference to our being or

11.	not being compelled. Now, what kind of things are
to be called compulsory ? Are they, absolutely, all
those in which the principle is external, and to
which the doer contributes nothing 1 But those
acts which abstractedly are involuntary, but which,
in the present case, and in preference to these
things, are eligible, and of which the principle is
in the doer, are abstractedly involuntary, but in
this case, and in preference to these things, volun-
tary ; nevertheless they more resemble voluntary
acts, for actions are conversant with particulars, and
particulars are voluntary.

12.	But it is not easy to lay down a rule as to
what kind of things are eligible in preference to
other things, for there are many differences in par-

ReasoL ticulars. But if any one should say that pleasant
why i)dea anc[ honourable tilings are compulsory, for, being
external, they force a person to act, everything
would in this way be compulsory; for, for the sake
of these things, everybody does everything; and
those who act from constraint, and involuntarily,
do it painfully; but those who act for the sake of
pleasure and honour do it pleasantly; consequently,
it is ridiculous for a man to complain of external
circumstances, and not himself, who has been a
willing prey to such things ; and to call himself the
cause of his honourable acts, and pleasure the cause
of his dishonourable ones. Now, the compulsory
appears to be that of which the principle is ex-
ternal, and to which the person compelled contri-
butes nothing.

13.	But that which is through ignorance is in all cases

Td #*.' ay- non-voluntary • "but only that which is followed by
voi.av are,

are not

compul-

gory.CHAP. I.]

ETHICS.

57

pain and repentance, is involuntary;c for he who Voluntary
has done any action through ignorance, and who Non-
feels no annoyance at it, did not indeed do it volun- j°^ntary'
tarily, inasmuch as he did not know it; nor, on the iuJta"ry
other hand, did he do it involuntarily, inasmuch as
he feels no pain at it. Now, of the two kinds of 14.
people who act through ignorance, he who feels M^ra/Xf-
repentance appears to be an involuntary agent; of thi
but he who feels no repentance must be called, since
he is not of the same character, by a different name
—non-voluntary; for, since there is a difference, it
is better that he should have a name of his own.

But there seems to be a difference between acting 15.
through ignorance, and acting ignorantly; for he Difference
who is under the influence of drunkenness or anger ^etwee^,
does not seem to act through ignorance, but for one ^Ctl 1
of the motives mentioned, not knowingly but igno- and
rantly; for every vicious man is ignorant of what ayvow>.
he ought to do, and from what he ought to ab-
stain ; and through such faulty ignorance men be-
come unjust and altogether depraved. But the 16.
meaning of the term "involuntary" is not if a
person is ignorant of what is expedient, for igno-
rance in principle is not the cause of involuntari-
ness, but of viciousness; nor is ignorance of uni- Ignorance
versals the cause of involuntariness (for on account either
of such ignorance we are blamed), but ignorance of universal
particulars in the circumstances of the action; for j^ular"
in these cases we are pitied and pardoned, for he
who is ignorant of any of these things acts involun-
tarily. Perhaps, then, it would be no bad thing 17.
to define what these circumstances are, and how When ig-

c By the expression "acting ignorantly" (ayvoStv) is
meant ignorance of the principle. This is considered by all "a 0na
moralists and jurists voluntary, and therefore blameable, as it
is assumed that all persons are, or ought to be, acquainted with
the principles of right and wrong, and with the law of the land.

To act lt through ignorance " (Si' ayvoiav) signifies ignorance
of the fact. If an action of this kind is followed by repent-
ance, Aristotle calls it involuntary (aKovviov), and therefore
considers it excusable; but if not repented of, he terms it
non-voluntary (ovk ekovgiov), and pronounces it unpardon-
able.53

ARISTOTLE'S

[book iii.

many there are of them, and who the person is
who acts, and what he does, and about what and in
what case he does it; and sometimes with what, as
the instrument; and from the motive, as safety $ ,

18.	and in what manner, as gently or violently. No
person except a madman could be ignorant of all
these particulars; and it is clear that he cannot be
ignorant of the agent, for how could he be ignorant
of himself ? But a man might be ignorant of what
he does, as those who say that they had forgotten
themselves, or that they did not know that they
were forbidden to speak of it, as JEschylus said
respecting the mysteries ;d or that, wishing to ex-
hibit an engine, he let it off by mistake, as the man

19.	let off the catapult. Again one might fancy one's
son an enemy, as did Merope ;e and that a sharp-
ened spear was rounded at the point, or that a
stone was pumice; and, striking a person in order
to save him, might kill him, and wishing to show a
hit, as boxers do when they spar, might strike a

20.	person. Ignorance, therefore, being possible on all
these circumstances connected with the act, he
who was ignorant of any one of these, seems ta
have acted involuntarily, and particularly in the
principal circumstances; but the principal circum-
stances appear to be those of the act itself, and the
motive. But though involuntariness is said to
consist in such ignorance as this, still the act must
be painful, and followed by repentance.

21.	But, since the involuntary is that which is done
Definition through constraint and that which is done through
voluntary ignorance? it would appear that the voluntary is

d A Greek scholiast says, that JEschylus, in five of his tra-
gedies, spoke of Demeter, and therefore may be supposed in
these cases to have touched upon subjects connected with the
mysteries; and Heraclides of Pontus says, that on this account
he was in danger of being killed by the populace, if he had not
fled for refuge to the altar of Dionysus, and been begged off
by the Areopagites, and acquitted on the grounds of his ex-
ploits at Marathon.

® The Cresphontes of Euripides is mentioned by Aristotle ir
his Poetics; in the denouement Merope recognizes her sou
when on the point of killing him.CHAP. II.]

ETHICS.

59

that of which the principle is in tlie doer himself,

having a knowledge of the particulars, namely, the
circumstances of the act; for perhaps it is not Why acts
correct to say that the acts of anger or desire are from
involuntary. For if so, in the first place, no other ^
living creature except man, and no children, will are not in«
be voluntary agents ; and in the second place, voluntary,
we may ask the question, is no one of the acts of 22 •

desire or anger, which we do, done voluntarily ^ or
are the good ones done voluntarily, but the bad ones •
involuntarily ? or is it not ridiculous to make such
distinctions, when the cause of both is one and
the same Perhaps, too, it is absurd to call objects 23.
of proper desire involuntary; and in some cases it
is right to be angry, and some things it is right to
desire, as health and learning; but things involun-
tary seem to be painful, whilst things done from
desire are pleasant. Again, what is the difference 24.

with respect to involuntariness between the faults
that are committed on principle and in anger 1
for both are to be avoided; and the irrational
passions appear to be no less naturally belonging
to man; and therefore irrational actions equally
belong to him. It is absurd, therefore, to call
these actions involuntary.

CHAP. II.

What is the nature of deliberate Preference.

The nature of the voluntary and the involuntary 1.

having been described, the next thing is, that we npoaipsaiQ
should examine the object of deliberate prefer- considered,
ence; for it appears to be most intimately con- js ^K(.^
nected with virtue, and even more than actions to ctov oh
be a test of character. Now, deliberate preference ravrov dst
appears to be voluntary, but not the same as " the
voluntary," but "the voluntary" is more extensive :

for both children and other beings participate in60

ARISTOTLE'S

[book III.

the voluntary, but not in deliberate preference ;
and we call sudden and unpremeditated acts volun-
tary, but we do not say that they were done from
deliberate preference. But those who say that it
is desire, or anger, or volition, or any opinion,
3. do not seem to speak correctly. For deliberate
Why it preference is not shared by irrational beings; but
*s I^)t , desire and anger are; and the incontinent man
Em vfxia. ac£s from desire^ and not from deliberate prefer-
# ence; and the continent man, on the other hand,
acts from deliberate preference, and not from desire.
And desire is opposed to deliberate preference, but
not to desire ; and desire is conversant with the
pleasant and painful, but deliberate preference with
neither. Still less is it anger; for acts done from
Why it is anger do not at all seem done from deliberate pre-
not 3-i/juog. ference. Nor yet is it volition, although it appears
. 5* to approach very near it; for there is no deliberate
is not1 preference of impossibilities ; and if any person
(3ov\r}Gig. should say that he deliberately preferred them, he
would be thought a fool; but there is volition of
impossibilities, as of immortality. And there is
volition about things which cannot by any possi-
bility be performed by one's self; as, that a par-
ticular actor, or wrestler, should gain the victory;
but no person deliberately prefers such things as
these, but only such things as he thinks may come
6. to pass by his own agency. But, further, volition
is rather of the end, and deliberate preference of
the means ; for instance, we wish to be in health,
but we deliberately prefer the means of becoming
so ; and we wish to be happy, and say so; but
it is not a suitable expression to say, we deliberately
prefer it; for, in a word, there appears to be no
deliberate preference in matters which are out of
our power.

Nor yet can it be opinion; for opinion seems to
Why it be about all objects, and on things eternal and
is not do%a. impossible, just as much as on things which are in
our own power; and opinions are divided according
10 their truth and falsehood not according toCHAP. III.]

ETHICS.

81

vice and virtue ; but the contrary is the case with g#

deliberate preference. But, perhaps, no one says Why not

it is the same as opinion generally ; but it is not somf

even the same as any particular opinion ;f for we Payt,culaf

0D2ni0n«

get our character from our deliberate preference of
things good or 6ad, and not from our opinions.)

And we deliberately prefer to take a thing, or not 9.

to take it, or something of this kind ; but we form
an opinion as to what a thing is, or to whom it is
advantageous, or how; but we do not form an
opinion at all about taking or not taking it; and
deliberate preference is rather praised for its being
directed to a right object, or for being rightly directed,
but opinion, for its being true. And we deliberately 10.

prefer those things which we most certainly know
to be good, but we form opinions about those things
which we do not know for certain. And it does not
appear that the same people are the best both in
forming opinions, and in exercising deliberate pre-
ference ; but some are good in opinion, but through
vice prefer not what they ought. But whether opi- 11.

nion arises before deliberate preference, or whether
it follows upon it, matters not; for this is not the
point which we are investigating, but whether it
is the same with any opinion. What, then, is its
genus, and what its species, since it is not any of
the things we have mentioned 1 { It seems, in fact,
voluntary; but not everything which is voluntary
is the object of deliberate preference, but only that jts nominal
which has been previously the object of deHbera- definition,
tion; for deliberate preference is joined with reason err-
and intellect; and its name seems to signify that cnf)€"
it is somewhat chosen before other things.)

CHAP. III.

Respecting Deliberation, and the Object of Deliberation.

But do men deliberate about ever v £hing, and is 1.
everything an object of deliberation, or are there Things62

ARISTOTLE'S

[book III.

which some things about which, there is no deliberation 1
th1111^ 1)6 Per^aPs WG mus"^ call that an object of delibe-
matter^f" ra^i°n; about which, not a fool or a madman, but a
fiovXr]. reasonable man would deliberate. About things

2.	eternal no man deliberates, as about the world, or
the diagonal and the side of a square/ because
they are incommensurable; nor yet about things in
motion, which always go on in the same manner,
whether it be from necessity, or nature, or any
other cause, as the solstices and the sunrise; nor
yet about things which are different at different
times, as droughts and showers ; nor about things
accidental, as the finding of a treasure; nor yet
about everything human, as no Lacedemonian
deliberates how the Scythians might be best go-
verned; for none of these things could be done

3.	through our own agency. But we deliberate about
those subjects of action which are in our own
power : and these are the cases which remain; foi
the principles of causation appear to be, Nature
Necessity, and Chance ; and, besides these, Mind,
and all that takes place through the agency of man.
But each individual man deliberates about those
subjects of action which are in his own power.
And respecting the exact and self-sufficient sciences,
there is no deliberation ; as respecting letters, foi

4.	we do not doubt how we ought to write. But
we deliberate about all those things which happen
by our own means, and not always in the same
manner; as about the art of medicine, of finance,
and the art of navigation, more than gymnastics,
inasmuch as it is less exactly described: and
likewise about the rest; and more about the arts
than the sciences ;S for we debate more about

1 The diagonal and side of a square are incommensurable ;
for let the side = a, then the diagonal = </2 • a, and y'2
cannot be expressed by a finite number.

s We debate more about the arts than the sciences, because
the former are concerned with contingent matter, the latter
with necessary matter. Still, however, the Greeks divided the
sciences into aicpiGtig and <rToxaaTiKal, and of these the latter

Object-
matter of
8oi\r).CflLAP. Ill/}

ETHICS#

63

them. But deliberation takes place in the case
of things that generally happen, but respecting
which it is uncertain how they may turn out, and
in which there is indefiniteness. But we take 5.

advice of others on great matters, because we ]SovXt) is,
distrust ourselves, as unable to decide with sufft- concerning
cient accuracy. And we do not deliberate about ^eans*
ends, but about means ; for the physician does not
deliberate whether he shall heal, nor the orator
whether he shall persuade, nor the lawgiver whether
he shall make good laws, nor anybody else about
the end; but having determined on some end,

they deliberate how and by what means it may be
effected.

And if it appears that it may be done by f»

more means than one, they next deliberate by
which it may be done most easily and honourably ;

but if it can be accomplished by one means, how it
can be done by this, and by what means this can
be effected, until they arrive at the first cause,

which is the last in the analysis ; for he who delibe-
rates appears to investigate and analyze the subject
like a mathematical problem, in the way that we
have mentioned. Now, not all investigation seems 8.

to be deliberation, as the investigations of mathe- It differs
matics; but every deliberation is an investigation ; from inves*
and the last thing in the analysis is the first in the tISatl0n*
execution. And if men come to an impossibility,

they leave off deliberating; as, for example, if
money is necessary, but it is impossible to get it;

but if it appears possible, they set about acting.

For those things which can be done through our
own agency are possible; for those things which
happen by means of our friends, happen in some
sense through our own agency; for the principle
k in ourselves. But sometimes the instruments,
and sometimes the use of them, are the subject of 9*
investigation, and in like manner in the other
categories, sometimes we investigate by whose as-

s'ons are capable of being made the subjects of deliberatioF
on the subject of deliberation, Rhet. Book I. c. iv.64

ARISTOTLE'S

[BOOK III;

sistance, and sometimes how, or by what means.

herefore, as we have said, it seems that man is the
origin of all actions ; but deliberation is about those
subjects of moral conduct which are in one's own
power; but actions are for the sake of other things.

10.	The end, therefore, cannot be a subject of delibera-
BovXgvroi/ tion, but the means; nor yet are particulars the
rs\o£ ^ °bjec^ °f deliberation; as whether this is a loaf or

whether it is baked as it ought; for these points
belong to the province of sensual perception, and
if a man is always deliberating, he will go on for

11.	ever. Now, the object of deliberation and that of
BovXevtov deliberate preference are the same, except that

the object of deliberate preference has already
differ. been restricted in its meaning; for that which
after deliberation is preferred, is an object of de-
liberate preference; for every person ceases to
deliberate how he shall act, when he refers the
principle to himself, and his ruling part; for it is

12.	this which deliberately prefers. But this is clear
from the ancient forms of government also, which
Homer mentions in his poems ;h for the kings used
to refer to the people those measures which they
had decided to be preferable. Now, since the ob-
ject of deliberate preference is the object of delibe-
ration and of desire, and for things in our own power,
it follows that deliberate preference is the deliberate

Upoaipevig desire of things in our power; for having made our
defined. decision after deliberation, we desire according to
our deliberation. Now, let deliberate preference
have been sufficiently described in outline, and
its object stated, and that it is respecting the
means.

h See for example Horn. II. ii. 66, Pope's translation.

" Th' assembly placed, the king of men expressed
The counsels lab'ring in his artful breast.

Friends and confederates ! with attentive ear
Receive my words, and credit what you hear."
The illustration of which Aristotle here makes use reminds us
of the psychical theory of Plato: for he compares the ra-
tional part of the soul to kings, as though it possessed a divine
right of ruling and advising; and the appetitive part to the
people whose duty it is to listen and obey.CHAP. IV."}

ETHICS,,

65

CHAP. IT.

Respecting Volition, and the object of it.

That volition is of the end, has been stated; but 1.

to some it appears to be of the good, and to others Whether
of the apparent good. Now the conclusion to which
they come who say that the object of volition is the
good, will be, that what he wishes who chooses in- is the real'
correctly, is no object of volition at all (for if it is or apparent
to be an object of volition, it must also be good ; &ood*
but it might be, if it so happens, bad) ; but according 2*
to those who, on the other hand, tell us that the
object of volition is the apparent good, there will be
no natural object of volition, but only that which
seems to each person to be so ; and different things
appear so to different persons, and as it might
happen, contrary things.

Now if these accounts are unsatisfactory, must 3.
we then say that, abstractedly, and in reality, the <^uestion
good is the object of volition, and to each indi-solved*
vidual, that which to him appears to be so 1 That
the good man's object of volition is the real good,

but the bad man's anything which he may happen
to think good 1 Just as in the case of the body, 4.

those things are wholesome to persons in a good Cases of
state of body, which are in reality wholesome, analosy*
but different things to persons diseased ; and like-
wise things bitter and sweet, and warm and heavy,
and everything else; for the good man judges
everything rightly, and in every case the truth
appears so to him; for there are certain things
honourable and pleasant in every habit. And per- 5*

haps the principal difference between the good and
the bad man is that the good man sees the truth in
every case, since he is, as it were, the rule and
measure of it. But the generality of mankind ®', ,
seem to be deceived by pleasure ; for it appears to ied astray
be the good, though it is not so ; and therefore bypleasure.

FARISTOTLE'S

[book iii.

men choose what is pleasant, under the idea that
it is good, and avoid pain, as an evil.

CHAP. V.

That Virtues and Vices are voluntary}

1.	Now the end being an object of volition, and the
Virtue means objects of deliberation and deliberate pre-
be°volun- ference, the actions which regard these must be in
tary. accordance with deliberate preference, and volun-
tary ; and the energies of the virtues are conversant
with these. And virtue also must be in our own
power ; and in like manner vice : for wherever we
have the power to do, we have also the power not
to do ; and wherever we have the power not to

2.	do, we have also the power to do. So that if it be
in our power to do a thing, which is honourable, to
leave it undone, which is disgraceful, will be in our

Reasons power likewise ; and if it be in our power to leave
why vice a thing undone, which is honourable, to do it, which
is also vo- js disgraceful, is in our power likewise. But if the
untary. d0ing things honourable and disgraceful be in our
power, and the abstaining from them be likewise in
our power (and this is the meaning of being good
and bad), then the being good and bad will be in
our power also.

3.	But as to the saying, that "No person is will-
First ingly wicked, nor unwillingly happy," it seems
reason. partly true, and partly false ; for no one is un-
willingly happy; but vice is voluntary. Or else
we must contradict what we have just said, and

* The freedom of the will in the case of vice as well as
virtue, forms a most important subject of investigation, be-
cause, although Greek philosophers generally allowed that
virtue was voluntary, still Socrates held that vice was involun-
tary. The reader is recommended to study attentively, in
connection with this part of the subject, Butler's Analogy,
Part I. c. vi., " On the opinion of necessity as influencing
practiceand alao his Sermons on Human Nature.CHAP. V.]

ETHICS.

67

deny that man is the origin ana the parent of
his actions, as of his children. But if this appear 4.

true, and we have no other principles to which we
may refer our actions than those which are in our
own power, then those things, the principles of Second
which are in our own power, are themselves also reason,
in our own power, and voluntary : and testimony
seems to be borne to this statement both by private
persons individually, and by legislators themselves ;

for they chastise and punish those who do wicked
deeds, unless they do them upon compulsion, or
through an ignorance for which they are them-
selves to blame ; and they confer honour on those
who do good actions, with a view to encouraging
the one and restraining the other. And yet no 5.

person encourages us to do those things which are
neither in our own power, nor voluntary, consider-
ing it not worth while to persuade us not to be
hot, or cold, or hungry, or anything of this kind ;

for we shall suffer them all the same. For they g.

punish people even for ignorance itself, if they ap- First
pear to be the cause of their own ignorance ; just as objection
the punishment is double for drunken people ; for ^g^ght
the principle is in themselves, since it was in their answered.
own power not to get drunk, and this is the cause
of their ignorance. And they punish those who are 7 #
ignorant of anything in the laws, which they ought
to know, and which is not difficult ;k and likewise in
all other cases in which they appear to be ignorant
through negligence, on the ground that it was in
their own power not to be ignorant; for they had
it in their own power to pay attention to it. But
perhaps a person is unable to give his attention; g
but they are themselves the causes of their inability, Second
by living in a dissipated manner ;1 and persons are objection,

k Ignorantia juris nocet, ignorantia facti non nocet, is a
well-known axiom of jurists.

1 Reason and revelation alike teach us the awful truth tha*
sin exercises a deadening effect on the moral perception 9s
right -and wrong. Ignorance may be pleaded as an excuse,

but not that ignorance of which man is himself the cause.

Such ignorance is the result of wilful sin. This corrupts thf
F 268

A RISTOTLE'S	[book III.

themselves the cause of their being unjust, by per-
forming bad actions, and of being intemperate, by
passing their time in drinking-bouts and such-like ;
for energies of any description make men of such
a character : but this is clear from those who prac-
tise any exercise or course of conduct; for they

9. continue energizing. Now, to be ignorant that by
energizing on every subject the habits are produced,

10.	shows a man to be utterly devoid of sense. And
Vicious further, it is absurd to suppose that the man who
c(mfirmed6n ^oes nnjus^ actions does not wish to become un-
voiuntary' just, or that the man who does intemperate actions
and why. does not wish to become intemperate. But if any

one without involuntary ignorance does those acts,
from doing which he will become unjust, he must
be unjust voluntarily ; nevertheless, he will not be
able to leave off being unjust, and to become just,
. when he pleases; for the sick man cannot be-
come well, even though it so happen that he is
voluntarily ill, owing to an incontinent life, and from

11.	disobedience to physicians. At the time, therefore,
it was in his own power not to be ill, but when he
has allowed himself to become ill, it is no longer in
his own power; just as it is no longer in the power
of a man who has thrown a stone, to recover it;
and yet the throwing and casting it was in his
own power ; for the origin of the action was in his
own power; and thus in the beginning it was in
the power of the unjust and the intemperate man
not to become such; and therefore they are so
voluntarily; but when they have become so, it is no
longer in their own power to avoid being so.

12- But not only are the faults of the soul voluntary,
Third rea- ^ gome pergons those of the body are so like-
wise, and with these we find fault; for no person
finds fault with those that are ugly by nature,
but only with those who are so through want of

moral sense, hardens the heart, destroys the power of con-
science, and afflicts us with judicial blindness, so that we
actually lose at last the power of seeing the things which be-
long unto our peace.CHAP. V.]

ETHICS.

69

gymnastic exercises or through carelessness. The 13,

case is the same with weakness and mutilation;

lor no person would blame a man who is born
blind, or who is blind from disease, or a blow, but
would rather pity him; but everybody would
blame the man who is blind from drunkenness, or
any other intemperance. Now of the faults of the
body, those which are in our own power are blamed,
but those which are not in our own power are not
blamed. And if this is true, it will follow that in
the case of faults of every other description those
which are blamed must be in our own power.

But if any one should say that all men aim at 14.
the apparent good, but that they have not power Tllird.'
over their own imagination, and that, according 0 •}ec I0rx'
to the character of each individual, is the end which
presents itself to him; if, as we have said, every
person is in scpne way the cause of his own habit,

he will be in some way the cause of his own
imagination. But if no one is to himself the 15.
cause of his doing bad actions, but he does them Fourth
through ignorance of the end, thinking that by objection,
these means he will have what is best; and that
the aiming at the end by which he judges well,

and will choose the true good, is not a matter of 9
choice, but that it is necessary for a man to be
born with it, as with the faculty of sight; and he
is well gifted by nature, who is born with this
good faculty ; (for he will have a most honourable
and excellent thing, and one which he cannot get
or learn from any other person, but which he must
have just as he has it by nature, and to have this
well and excellently by nature constitutes perfect
and true natural goodness;) if this be true, how
can virtue be more voluntary than vice 1 for to
both the good and the bad man alike the end is, by
nature, or in some way apparent and laid down ;
and referring everything else to this, they act ac-
cordingly. "Whether then the end does not appear
by nature to every man of one kind or other, but Fourth
the light in which it presents itself depends in reason.TO

ARISTOTLE'S

[book III.

some measure upon himself; or whether the end
is by nature fixed, and from the good man's per-
forming the means voluntarily, virtue is voluntary ;
in both cases vice is just as voluntary as virtue ;
for the bad man is just as much a voluntary agent

] 7. in his actions as the good man. If then, as is said,
Fifth rea • the virtues are voluntary, (for we are in some sense
son- joint causes of our habits, and from our being of a
certain character, we propose to ourselves the same
kind of end,) the vices must be voluntary also;

IB. for they are just as much so as the virtues. Now
The ar- about the virtues we have spoken generally; we
summed up ^ave sa^ i*1 ou^line, as it were, that they are mean
* states, and that they are habits; we have stated
from what things they derive their origin, and that
these things they are themselves apt to practise ;
that they are in our own power, that they are
voluntary, and that they are under the direction
of right reason.

19.	But the actions and the habits are not in the
Habits not same manner voluntary ; for we are masters of our
asTctions^ ac^i°ns from the beginning to the end, since we

know the particulars; but we are masters only of
the beginning of our habits; but the addition of
particulars we are not aware of, as we are in the case
of sicknesses; but because it was in our power to
make this or that use of particulars in the first

20.	instance, on this account they are voluntary. Let
us then take up the virtues again separately, and
state what they are, what their subjects are, and
how they are virtues; and it will be at the same
time clear how many there are : and first of
courage.

CHAP. YI.

The definition of Courage.

1. Now that courage is a mean state on the subjects
Courage, of fear and confidence has been already made appa-CHAP. VI.]

ETHICS*

71

rent: but it is evident that we fear tilings terrible ;

and these are,, to speak generally, evils ; and there-
fore people define fear " the expectation of evil." Fear.
Now we fear all evils, as disgrace, poverty, disease, 2.
friendlessness, and death. But the brave man does
not appear to have to do with all evils; for some it
is right and good to fear, and not to fear them is
disgraceful, as, for example, not to fear disgrace; for
he who fears this is a worthy and modest man, and
he who does not fear it is shameless. But by some
people he is called brave, metaphorically; for he
bears some resemblance to the brave man ; for the
brave man too is fearless. But poverty, perhaps, 3.
and disease, and all those things which do not hap- Moral
pen from vice, or our own fault, it is not right to courage*
fear; but yet the man who is fearless in these
things is not brave. But him, too, we call so, from
the resemblance; for some who in war are cowards,
are liberal, and behave with courage under pecu-
niary losses. Nor yet is a man a coward if he 4.
is afraid of insult to his children and wife, or of
envy, or anything of this kind; nor is he brave if
he feels confidence when about to be scourged.m
What sort of fearful things, then, has the courageous 5,

man to do with ; the greatest 1 for no man is more Cases in
able than he is to undergo terrible things ; but death which the

is the most terrible of all things : for it is a limit :n b^ave

• •	SllOW cou-

and it is thought that to the dead there is nothing rage>

beyond, either good or bad. And yet the brave man 6.

does not appear to have to do with death in every Death is <po«

form; as at sea, and in disease. With what kinds ^EP^rarov*

of death, then h Is it with the most honourable ? courage

But those that occur in war are of this kind, for in is not

war the danger is the greatest and most honourable, shown in

The public honours that are awarded in states and ^a^nds °*

by monarchs attest this.

Properly, then, he who in the case of an honour- 8.

m Aristotle is here alluding to the severities of the Lace-
daemonian law.

n Mors ultima linea rerum.—-Hor. See on this subject,

note, Book I. chap, ii.72

ARTSTOTLE'S	[book in,

able death, and under circumstances close at hand
which cause death, is fearlesp, may be called courage-
ous; and the dangers of war are, more than any
9. others, of this description. Not but that the brave
ractercrf man *S ^ear^ess sea; an<^ in sickness; but not
sailors not ^rom "^e same cause as seamen; for the brave give
truly cou- UP all hope of safety, and are grieved at such a
rageous. kind of death; but seamen are sanguine, because
10. of their experience. Moreover, brave men show
manliness in cases where there is room for exerting
themselves, and in which death is honourable ; but
in such deaths as those above-mentioned there is
neither one of these conditions nor the other.

CHAP. VII.

Of the Brave Man, and those who are in the extremes on
either side of Bravery.

1.	But the terrible is not to all persons the same; and
foktpa there is something which we say is beyond the
V7rep av- p0wer 0f man t0 bear; this, therefore, is terrible to

2.	every man, at least to every man of sense. But
K-or' av- those which are within the power of man to bear
Qpioirov, differ in magnitude, and in being some greater and

some less ; and circumstances which cause con
fidence differ likewise. But the brave man is fear-
less, as becomes a man; therefore at such things
he will feel fear; but he will bear up, as far as
right and reason dictate, for the sake of what is
honourable; for there is this same end to all the

3.	virtues. But it is possible for these things to be

feared too much and too little, and, again, for

things not terrible to be feared as if they were so.
But of faults, one is that the thing itself is not
right; another, that the manner is not right;
another, that the time is not right, and so on;
and the case is similar with respect to things that
cause confidence. Now he who bears bravely, andCHAP. VII.]

ETHICS.

73

who fears what he ought, and from the right mo- Brave maa
tive, and in the right manner, and at the light defined,
time, and feels confidence in like manner, is brave.

For the brave man suffers and acts just as the
nature of the case demands, and right reason war-
rants.

But the end of every energy is that which is ac- 5
cording to the habit; and courage is that which is
honourable in the case of the brave man; such
therefore is his end ; for everything is defined by
its end. For the sake, therefore, of what is honour-
able, the brave man bears and performs those tilings
which belong to courage. But of those who are in 6.
the extreme of excess there are two kinds, one who >Ar^yn1
is excessive in fearlessness, who is not named (and rol'
we have before stated, that many of these extremes
are not named); but he (if, as is said of the Celts,0
he fears nothing, neither earthquake nor waves) may
be called mad or insensate. The other, who is ex- 7.

cessive in his confidence in terrible circumstances,

is rash; and the rash man is thought to be arro- epaveig,
gant, and a pretender to courage. He then wishes
to seem what the courageous man is in terrible cir-
cumstances ; wherever he can, therefore, he imitates
him. Most of these, therefore, are at once bold and
cowardly; for though they are bold in these cases,

yet they do not bear up under circumstances of
terror. But he who is excessive in fear is a cow- 8. AeiXoL
ard ; for he has all the attendant characteristics of
fearing what he ought not, and as he ought not,

and so forth; besides, he is deficient in confidence;
but where he is called upon to bear pain, he more
especially shows that he is in excess. Now the
coward is desponding, for he fears everything ; but
the brave man is just the reverse, for confidence
belongs to the sanguine temper. With the same sub- 9. AetXoc,
jects, therefore, are conversant the characters of the

0 Aristotle makes similar mention of the Celts (Eudem.

Eth. iii. i.):—olov 01KsXrol 7rpQQ rd Kvfiara oirXa airavruxri
XatovTtg. See also Lilian, Var. Hist. xii. 23 ; Strabo, vii .
p. 293 (Cardwell),74

ARISTOTLE'S

[book iii.

aidpuoQ coward, the rash, and the brave man, but they are
all conver- differently disposed with respect to them ; for the
the* same ^wo are *n excess an(^ defect; the other is in
things. the mean, and as he ought to be ; the rash are pre-
cipitate, and though beforehand they are full ol
eagerness, yet in the midst of clangers they stand
aloof; the brave are in action full of spirit, but

10.	beforehand tranquil. As we said, therefore, courage
is a mean state with respect to subjects of con-
fidence and terror • i. e. in those which have been
specified ; and it chooses and bears up, because it is
honourable to do so, or because it is disgraceful not

11.	to do so. But to die, and thus avoid poverty or
Suicide l0ye, or anything painful, is not the part of .a brave
cowardice man? but rather of a coward ; for it is cowardice to

avoid trouble ; and the suicide does not undergo
death because it is honourable, but in order to avoid
evil. Such, then, is the nature of courage. #

CHAP. VIII.

Five other Forms of Courage.

1.	There are, besides this, five other forms of courage
Five spu- gpoken of: first, the political, for it is most like
o^co m S ^rue co"urage ; for citizens seem to undergo dangers,
UoXltlkt}.' on account of the rewards and punishments enacted

by law, to avoid reproach and to obtain distinction.

2.	And for this reason those nations appear to be the
most valiant, among whom cowards are disgraced,
and brave men honoured; and it is characters ot
this kind that Homer makes the heroes of his
poems, as Diomede and Hector,—" Polydamas will
be the first to load me with reproach." p And
Diomede says, " For Hector will one day say, when
speaking among the Trojans, The son of Tydeus

3.	beneath my hand." But this most nearly resein-

v See Horn. II. xxii. 100, or Pope's translation, line 140;
and viii. 148, or Pope, line 179.CHAP. VIII.]

ETHICS.

75

bles tlie courage before mentioned, because it arises
from virtue; for it arises from shame, and tlie de-
sire of what is honourable, that is, distinction, and
from shunning reproach, which is disgraceful. But 4.
one might class with these those who are com-
pelled by their commanders to fight; but they
are worse, inasmuch as they do it, not from shame,
but from fear, and in order to avoid, not what is
disgraceful, but what is painful; for those who have
power over them compel them, as Hector says, m
" Whomsoever I shall find crouching far away
from the battle, it shall not be in his power to
escape the dogs ;M<1 and those who issue orders to
them, and strike them if they retreat, do the same ;

also those who draw up their men in front of
trenches, or things of the kind, for they all use
compulsion :r a man must therefore be brave, not
because he is compelled, but because it is honourable
to be so.

Again, experience on every subject appears to be 5#
a kind of courage ; whence even Socrates thought 'E k rrjc
that courage was a science.83 Now some people are
experienced in one thing, and some in another ;

and in warlike matters soldiers are experienced ;
for there seem to be many things in war newt to
There are two passages in the Iliad which bear a close
resemblance to this ; one in which Agamemnon is speaking
(II. ii. 391; Pope, 466) ; the other in which the words are
Hector's (II. xv. 348 ; Pope, 396).

r Herodotus, in his account of the battle of Thermopylae,
(vii. 223), says that the Persian officers stood behind the troops
with whips, and with them drove the men onwards against the
enemy.

8 The moral theory of Socrates was, that as virtue was the
only way to happiness, and no one could be willingly his own
enemy, so no one could do wrong willingly. Hence, whoever
did wrong did it through ignorance of right, and therefore
virtue resolved itself into science (sttkttjjiat)). Courage, there-
fore, being a virtue, would be, according to this theory, a
science likewise.

4 It is doubtful whether the reading here should be Kaiva
(things new), or Ksva (groundless terrors). The following
expressions,—inania belli (Tacit. Hist. ii. 69), and scis enim
dici qusedam iraviica, dici item ra ksvcl rov ttoXs/jlov (Cic. ad
Attic, v. 20), support the latter reading. Om the other hands76

ARISTOTLE'S

£book III.

other men, with, which, soldiers, more than any one
else, have become acquainted. They therefore ap-
pear courageous, because all other people are not
aware of the nature of these things; besides,
through their experience they are better able to
do, and not to suffer, and to protect themselves,
and to wound others, because they are able to use
dexterously their arms, and because they have such
arms as are best adapted for offence and defence.

g. In battle, therefore, they are like armed men
against unarmed, and like professional wrestlers
against amateurs; for in conflicts of this kind, it is
not the bravest men, but those who have the
greatest strength, and who are in the best state of

7,	body, who make the best fighters. Now regular
troops become cowardly when the danger surpasses
their experience, and when they are inferior in
numbers or equipments ; for they are the first to
fly ; but a native militia stands its ground, and
dies, which happened in the Hermseum ;u for to
them flight is disgraceful, and death is preferable to
such safety; while the others only expose them-
selves to danger at the beginning, under the idea
that they are superior ; but when they discover
the true state of the case they fly, because they
fear death more than disgrace. But this is not the
character of the courageous man.

8.	Again, some people refer anger to courage; for
E<c Bvfxov. ihoge w}10 are borne on by anger, like wild beasts,

against those who have wounded them, are thought
to be courageous ; because courageous men have the
appearance of being under the influence of anger;

voniaavreg ovk aXXo ri elvat to icaivov rov 7ro\s[iovy k. r. X.
(Thucyd. iii. 30), is in favour of the former. And this, Came-
rarius, Cardwell, and Miclielet prefer. Bekker, however,
adopts the latter reading.

u The Greek scholiast infttrms us that the Hermseum was
an open space in the city of Coronsea, in Boeotia. Here the
Coronseans, assisted by some Boeotian auxiliary troops, fought
an engagement with Nonarchus the Phocian, who had got
possession of the citadel. In this battle the native troops
stood their ground, and were all killed to a man ; the auxili-
aries fled, on hearing of the death of one of their generals.CHAP. VIII.J

ETHICS*.

77

for anger is a tiling which above all others is apt
to rush into dangers; whence Homer also says—

-4i it infused strength into his soul."

-" it aroused his fury and rage."

-" he breathed stern fury thro' his nostrils."

-" his blood boiled." v

For all such signs as these seem to denote the
rousing and awakening of anger. Now brave men 9.
act for the sake of what is honourable ; and anger
co-operates with them; but beasts act from pain;
for it is owing to their being struck or frightened ;
at least when they happen to be in a wood or a
marsh, they do not attack. Now it is not courage
in them to rush into danger, because they are im-
pelled by pain or rage, without foreseeing anything
of the danger they incur. Since, according to such
an idea, even asses would be brave when they are
hungry; for even when, they are beaten they do
not leave their pasture ; and adulterers also do
many acts of daring through lust. Therefore those
who from pain or rage are urged forward into
danger are not brave. But that form of courage xo.
which owes its origin to anger, appears to be more
physical than the other forms; but when deliberate
preference and the proper motive are added, it
becomes real courage. And men who are angry
suffer pain, and when they have have satisfied their
vengeance they feel pleasure; but those whose
courage is owing to this feeling, are fond of fight-
ing, but not really courageous; for they do not act
from the motive of the honourable, nor according
to the suggestion of reason, but in obedience to
passion, and yet they bear a strong resemblance to
real courage.

Nor yet are the sanguine courageous; for they 11.
feel confidence in dangers, because they have
been victorious many times and over many oppo-
nents; but they resemble the courageous, because

v The fourth quotation does not occur in either the Iliad or
Odyssey, but in Theocritus, Id. xx. 15.—Michelet. T<i
7ro\iTiica7 are forces composed of citizens (iroXirai). Oi
frpaTi&rai, are hired auxiliaries, or mercenaries.ARISTOTLE'S

[book iii*

both are apt to feel confidence; tat courageous
men are apt to feel confidence from the above-men-
tioned causes, and men of sanguine temperament
because they believe themselves superior, and ex-
pect that no evil will happen to them; and this
is the case with drunken men ; for they become
sanguine ; but when things happen contrary to

12.	their expectation, they fly. Now it was said to be
the part of the brave man to withstand everything
which is or which appears to be terrible to man,
because it is honourable to do so, and disgraceful

13.	not to do so. And therefore, also, it appears to be
characteristic of a brave man to be fearless and
imperturbable in cases of sudden danger, than in
those which are previously expected; for it arises
more from habit, and less from preparation ; for in
the case of things previously expected, a man might
prefer them from calculation and reason, but in
things unexpected, from habit.

14.	Again the ignorant appear courageous, and are
'E£ ay- not far removed from the sanguine ; but they are
voia,?. worse, inasmuch as they make no estimate at all

of the danger, whilst the others do ; for which rea-

15.	son they stand their ground for awhile. But men
who have been deceived fly, as soon as they dis-
cover that the case is different from what they
suspected ; as was the case with the Argives when
they fell among the Lacedaemonians, mistaking
them for Sicyonians.w We have now given the
character of the really brave, and of those who are
only apparently so.

CHAP. IX.

Of certain features peculiar to Courage.

1. But though courage is conversant with confidence

Courage and fear, it is not equally conversant with both,

J® *n°re but has more to do with fearful things : for he who
ronver-	&

want with w See the Hellenics of Xenophon, Book VI. c. iv. sec. 10,,CHAP. TX.]

ETHICS.

79

in these oases is undisturbed, and w.ao feels as lie (pottpa
ought in them, is more truly brave than he who tnan Sap-
feels as he ought on subjects of confidence. Now sa"
men are called brave for bearing painful things : it is pain-
arid hence it follows also that courage is attended ful, and
with pain, and is justly praised; for it is more diffi- more
cult to bear painful things than to abstain from ^harf
pleasant things.x Not but that the end in courage tempe-
is pleasant, but it is kept out of sight by the ac- ranee,
companying circumstances: just as is the case in 3-
the gymnastic exercises; for, to pugilists, the end
for which they act, namely, the crown and the ho-
nours, is pleasant; but the being beaten is painful,

at least, if they are made of flesh, and all toil is
painful; and because the painful circumstances are
numerous, the motive, which is a small matter,

appears to have nothing pleasant in it.

Now, if in the case of courage this be equally 4. Feeling
true, death and wounds will be painful to the brave pain will
man, and against his will; but he will bear them no} con-
because it is honourable to do so, and because it is a
disgraceful not to do so. And in proportion as he coward,
is nearer the possession of all virtue and happiness, 5.

he will be more pained at death; for to such a man
as this, more than to any other, it is worth while
to live, and he will knowingly be deprived of the
greatest goods : and this is painful; but he is not
the less brave ; but perhaps he is even more brave,

because in preference to these advantages he chooses 6 ^ ^
the honour to be obtained in war. Consequently, it is kvsp-yelv'ls
not possible to energize pleasantly in the case of all not possi-
the virtues, except so far as that they attain to their ble in all
end. And perhaps there is no reason why those ^gvir'
soldiers who are not of this character, but are less ^

brave, and have no other good quality, should not Merce-
be the best fighters: for these men are leady to nary sol-
face dangers and hazard life for the chance of great £iers not

0F&V6

profit. Of courage, therefore, let so much have g#

x Because pain is sharper and more bitter than the mere
loss of pleasure.80

ARISTOTLE'S

[book in.

been said; but it is not difficult, from what has
been said, to comprehend, in outline, at least, what
it is.

CHAP, X.

Of Temperance and Intemperance.

1.	But, after this, let us speak of temperance ; for
Why cou- these two, courage and temperance, seem to be the
rage and virtues of the irrational parts of the soul. Now, we
are first have said that temperance is a mean state on the
considered, subject of pleasures; for it has not the same, but
Tempe- less connection with pains ; and with the same k>-
rance is temperance appears to be conversant likewise. Bat

TTEOL 1100m

v{jQm let us now distinguish the kinds of pleasures which
are the subject of it.

2.	Let pleasures be divided into those of the soul,
Pleasures and those of the body; as, for example, the love ol
mental ^0n0Tir? ^ie l°ve learning; for, in both these cases,
and corpo- a man "^kes pleasure in that which he is art to love,
real. while his body feels nothing, but rather his intellect;
Mental are but those who have to do with pleasures of this kind
love of are neither called temperate nor intemperate. Nor

honour

' 3' are those called temperate nor intemperate who
have to do with the other pleasures which do not
belong to the body ; for, as to those who are fond
of fables, and telling long stories, and those who pass
their days idly in indifferent occupations, we call
them triers, but not intemperate; nor yet do we
call those intemperate who are too much grieved
at the loss of money or friends.

4.	Temperance must therefore belong to bodily
ar^thoseof P^easures J but no^	even of these. For those
oipig. who are delighted at the pleasures derived from

sight, as with colour, and form, and painting, are
neither called temperate nor intemperate, and yet
it would seem to be possible for a man to bo

5.	pleased even with these as they ought, or too much,
dicon. or too little. The same thing holds good in casesCHAP. X.]

ETHICS.

81

of hearing; for no person calls those who are ex-
travagantly delighted with songs or acting intem-
perate, nor does he call those who take proper
pleasure in them temperate ; nor yet in cases of 6.

smell, except accidentally for we do not call those
who are pleased with the smell of fruit, or roses, or
aromatic odours, intemperate, but rather those who
delight in the smell of perfumes and viands; for
the intemperate are pleased with these, because by
them they are put in mind of the objects of their
desire. And one might see even others besides 7.
intemperate people, who when hungry take delight
in the smell of meat; but taking delight 111 these
things is a mark of the intemperate man, for to him
these things are objects of desire. But even other 8«

animals perceive no pleasure through the medium
of these senses, except accidentally; for dogs do not
take delight in the smell of hares, but in eating
them, although the smell caused the sensation. Nei-
ther does the lion feel pleasure in the lowing of an
ox, but in eating it; but he perceived from the low-
ing that the ox was near, and therefore he appears
to be pleased at this; and likewise he is not de-
lighted at merely seeing or finding a stag or wild
goat, but because he will get food. Therefore tem- 9.

perance and intemperance belong to those pleasures
in which other animals participate; whence they
appear slavish and brutal; and these are touch and
taste. Now they seem to have little or nothing 10. yevaiQ,
to do with taste ; for to taste belongs the judging Wltl1 which
of flavours ; as those who try wines do, and those
who prepare sauces; but the intemperate do not ^ut
take much or indeed any pleasure in these flavours, convex
but only in the enjoyment, which is caused en- sjmfc*
tirely by means of touch, and which is felt in meat,

in drink, and in venereal pleasures. Wherefore 11. dcpri,
Philoxenus, the son of Eryxis, a glutton, wished with which

it is chie%

y Because neither the gratification of sight, nor smell, nor con^01"
hearing, is the final cause to animals, but the satisfying hun- san '
ger, the means of doing which are announced by the senses.

Compare Horn, Iliad, iii. 23.—Michelet.

a82

ARIS'IOTLE'S

[BOOK liii

that he had a throat longer than a crane's ; because
he was pleased with touch, the most common of
senses, and the one to which intemperance belongs;
and it would appear justly to be deserving of
reproach, since it exists in us, not so far forth as we
12, are men, but so far forth as we are animals. Now,
to delight in such things as these, and to be better
pleased with them than anything else, is brutal;
for the most liberal of the pleasures of touch are
not included, those, namely, which arise from fric-
tion and warmth in the gymnastic exercises; for
the touch in which the intemperate man takes
pleasure belongs not to the whole body, but to
particular parts of it.

CHAP. XI.

Different kinds of Desires.

1.	But of desires, some appear to be common, and
E7nQvfxlai others peculiar and acquired ; as, for example, the
foldtWO" desire of food is natural; for every man desires, when

2.	hungry, meat or drink, or sometimes both; and a
koivoi ; in young man in his prime, Homer says, desires the
these error nuptial couch; but it is not every man who feels
is rare. this or that desire, nor do all feel the same.

Therefore this appears to be peculiarly our own;
not but that it has something natural in it, for
different things are pleasant to different people, and
some things are more pleasant universally than
others which might be selected at random. In the
natural desires, then, few err, and only on one side,
that of excess; for to eat or drink anything till a
man be overfilled is exceeding the natural desire in
quantity; for the object of natural desire is the
satisfaction of our wants. Therefore these are
called belly gods, because they satisfy their wants
more than they ought : people of excessively slavish
Idiai. 3, dispositions are apt to do this. But in the case of
Errors fre- peculiar pleasures many people err, and frequently ;CHAP, xaj

ETHICS

8Z

for people -who are called lovers of these things,

are so called either from being pleased with im-
proper objects, or in improper degree, or as the
vulgar are, or in an improper manner, or at an
improper time; but intemperate persons are in
the excess in all these particulars; for they are
pleased with some things that ought not to please
them, because they are hateful; and if any of these
things are proper objects of delight, they are de-
lighted with them either more than they ought,

or as the vulgar are.

It is clear, therefore, that excess in pleasures is
intemperance, and blameable. But as to pains, a Courage
man is not, as in the case of courage, called tem- prance"
perate for bearing them, nor intemperate for not differ as to
bearing them; but a man is called intemperate for pains,
feeling more pain than he ought at not obtaining
pleasant things; and (so the pleasure is the cause
of the pain;) but the temperate man is called so
from not feeling pain at the absence of and the
abstaining from pleasure. Now, the intemperate 5.
man desires all things which are pleasant, or those Intempe-
which are not so, and is led by his desire to choose rate man*
the tie things in preference to others; for which
reason he feels pain both on account of his failure
in obtaining, and his desire to obtain; for desire is
accompanied by pain; but it seems absurd to be
pained through pleasure.

But there are, in fact, none who fall short on the 6-
subject of pleasure, and who delight less than they T}1® defect
ought in it; for such insensibility is not natural to ^ectTto
man; for all other animals discriminate between pleasure
the things which they eat, and like some, and dis- never
like others. But if'any one thinks nothing plea- *ound-
sant, and sees no difference between one thing and
another, he would scarcely be ? man; but this
character has no name, because it is never found.

But the temperate man is in the mean in these 7.
matters; for he is not pleased, but rather annoyed, The tem*
at the principal pleasures of the intemperate man • described"
nor is he pleased with any improper objects, nor
q284

ARISTOTLE'S	[book in.

excessively with anything ; nor is he pained at their
absence ; nor does he feel desire, except in modera-
tion, nor more than he ought, nor when he ought
g# not, nor in any case improperly. But he feels
moderate and proper desire for all those pleasant
things which conduce to health, or a sound habit of
body; and he feels the same desire for those other
pleasures which do not hinder these, which are not
contrary to the honourable, nor beyond his means;
for he who feels otherwise sets too high a price
upon such pleasures. But this is not the character
of the temperate man; but he feels them according
to the suggestions of right reason.

CHAP. XII.

That Intemperance appears more Voluntary than Cowardice.

!• But intemperance seems more voluntary than cow-

Whyin" ardice ; for one arises from pleasure, and the other
temperance „	.	j? i • i • j. i_ i	i j.t_

% more from pam; one 01 which is to be chosen, and the

voluntary other to be avoided. And pain puts a man beside
than himself, and disturbs his natural character; whereas
cowardice, pleasure has no such effect. It is, therefore, more
voluntary, and for this reason more deserving of
reproach ; for it is easier to become accustomed to
resist pleasures, because they frequently occur in
life ; and in forming the habits there is no danger;
but the case of things formidable is just the con-
trary.

2.	And it would appear that cowardice is not
equally voluntary in the particular acts ; for cow-
ardice itself is not painful; but the particular

3 circumstances through pain put a man beside him-
self, and cause him to throw away his arms, and to
do other disgraceful things ; and therefore it appears

3.	to be compulsory. In the case, however, of the
intemperate man, on the contrary, his particular
acts are voluntary ; for they are committed in obe-CHAP. XII.]

ETHICS.

85

dience to Ms lusts and desires; but the whole habit
is less voluntary ; for no one desires to be intempe-
rate. We apply the term intemperance to children's 4,

faults also ; for there is some resemblance between Analogy
the two cases; but which use of the word is derived
from the other, matters not for our present purpose, (etymolo-
But it is evident that the latter meaning was derived gically un-
from the former ; and the metaphor seems to be by chastened-
no means a bad one : for whatever desires those
things which are disgraceful, and is apt to increase 0f children
much, requires chastisement; and this is especially
the case with desires and children; for children
live in obedience to desire, and in them the desire
of pleasure is excessive. If, therefore, it is not 5.
obedient, and subject to rule, it will increase greatly; Rules. re-
for the desire of pleasure is insatiable, and attacks t^e ^sires
the foolish man on all sides; and the indulgence of
desire increases the temper which is congenial to it,

and if the desires are great and strong, they expel
reason also. Hence it is necessary that they should be 6.
moderate and few, and not at all opposed to reason:

and this state is what we call obedient and disci-
plined ; for as a child ought to live in obedience to
the orders of his master, so ought that part of the
soul which contains the desires, to be in obedience
to reason. It is therefore necessary for that part 7.

of the soul of the temperate man which contains
the desires, to be in harmony with reason; for
the honourable is the mark at which both aim;

and the temperate man desires what he ought, and
as he ought, and when he ought; and thus reason
also enjoins. Let this suffice, therefore, on the
^ 1 Meet, of temneranco.88

BOOK IV.

CHAP. L

Of Liberality and Illiberality.

1.	LEr us next speak of liberality. Now it appears to
Liberality "be a mean on the subject of possessions; for the
defined. liberal man is praised, not for matters which re-
late to war, nor for those in which the temperate
character is exhibited, nor yet for his judgment, but
in respect to the giving and receiving of property;
and more in giving than receiving. But by pro-
perty we mean everything, of which the value is

2.	measured by money. Now, the excess and defect
The ex- on the subject of property are prodigality and
tremes are illiberality ; the term illiberality we always attach
founded11" ^ose are more anxious than they ought
with other about money; but that of prodigality we sometimes
vices. use in a complex sense, and attach it to intem-
perate people, for we call those who are inconti-
nent, and profuse in their expenditure for purposes
of intemperance, prodigal; therefore they seem to
be the most wicked, for they have many vices at

3# once. Now, they are not properly so called, for the
meaning of the word prodigal is the man who has
one single vice, namely, that of wasting his fortune ;
for the man who is ruined by his own means is
prodigal, and the waste of property appears to be a
sort of ruining one's self, since life is supported by
means of property. This is the sense, therefore,
that we attach to prodigality. But it is possible
to make a good and bad use of everything which
has use. Now, money is one of the useful things;
and that man makes the best use of everything
who possesses the virtue which relates to it, and,CHAP. I.]

ETHICS.

87

therefore, lie who possesses the virtue that relates
to money will make the best use of it, and the
possessor of it is the liberal man.

But spending and giving seem to be the use of 4.

money, and receiving and taking care of it are more Why
properly the method of acquiring it; hence it is

J.-U «i. x? i.i v-u i	x • x	sists more

more the part of the liberal man to give to proper jn giving
objects than to receive from proper persons, or to than re -
abstain from receiving from improper persons ; for ceiving.
it belongs more to the virtue of liberality to do than
to receive good, and to do what is honourable than
to abstain from doing what is disgraceful. And it 5.
is clear that doing what is good and honourable
belongs to giving, and that receiving good and ab-
staining from doing what is disgraceful, belongs to
receiving; and thanks are bestowed on the giver,

and not on him who abstains from receiving, and
praise still more so; and abstaining from receiving
is more easy than giving, for men are less disposed to
give what is their own than not to take what be-
longs to another; and givers are called liberal, while
those who abstain from receiving are not praised
for liberality, but nevertheless they are praised for
justice; but those who receive are not praised at all.
But liberal men are more beloved than any others,

for they are useful, and their usefulness consists in
giving.

But actions according to virtue are honourable, 6.
and are done for the sake of the honourable; the The mo-
liberal man, therefore, will give for the sake dinner o/
the honourable, and will give properly, for he will liberality,
give to proper objects, in proper quantities, at pro-
per times; and his giving will have all the other
qualifications of right giving, and he will do this
pleasantly and without pain ; for that which is done
according to virtue is pleasant, or without pain, and
by no means annoying to the doer. But he who 7.

gives to improper objects, and not for the sake of
the honourable, is not to be called liberal, but some-
thing else ; nor yet he who gives with pain, for lit;

would prefer the money to the performance of an88

ARISTOTLE'S

[book iv.

honourable action, and tliis is not the part of a libe-

8.	ral man. Nor yet will the liberal man receive from
Requi- improper persons, for such receiving is not charac-
the liberal ^er*s^c him who estimates things at their propei
receiver. value ; nor would he be fond of asking, for it is not

like a benefactor, readily to allow himself to be be-
nefited ; but he will receive from proper sources;
for instance, from his own possessions; not because
it is honourable, but because it is necessary, in order
that he may have something to give; nor will he
be careless of his own fortune, because he hopes by
means of it to be of use to others; nor will he give
at random to anybody, in order that he may have
something to give to proper objects and in cases
where it is honourable to do so.

9.	It is characteristic of the liberal man to be pro-
Requisites fuse and lavish in giving, so as to leave but little
liberal ^or himself, for it is characteristic of him not to look
giver. to his own interest. But the term liberality is ap-
plied in proportion to a man's fortune, for the liberal
consists not in the quantity of the things given,
but in the habit of the giver; and this habit gives
according to the means of the giver. And there is
nothing to hinder the man whose gifts are smaller
being more liberal, provided he gives from smaller

10.	means. But those who have not been the makers
Those of their own fortune, but have received it by in-
who inherit heritance, are thought to be more liberal, for they
most'11 the are ^experienced in want, and all men love their own
liberal. productions most, as parents and poets. But it is

not easy for the liberal man to be rich, since he is not
apt to receive or to take care of money, but rather
to give it away, and to be careless of it for its own
sake, and only to care for it for the sake of giving

11.	away. And for this reason people upbraid fortune,
because those who are most deserving of wealth are
the least wealthy. But this happens not without
reason, for it is impossible for a man to have money
who takes no pains about getting it, as is the case
in other things.

Liberal 12. Yet the liberal man will not give to impropertaXp. i.]

ETHICS.

89

persons, nor at improper times, and so forth, for man dif-
if he did, he would cease to act with liberality; ferent
and if he were to spend money upon these things, from the
he would have none to spend upon proper objects,	m

for, as has been observed, the man who spends"
according to his means, and upon proper objects, is
liberal, but he who is in the excess is prodigal. For Kings
this reason we do not call kings prodigal, for it cannot be
does not appear easy to exceed the greatness of prodigals,
their possessions in gifts and expenditure.

Liberality, therefore, being a mean state on the 13.
subject of giving and receiving money, the liberal
man will give#and expend upon proper objects, and
in proper quantities, in small and great matters
alike, and this he will do with pleasure ; and he will Liberal
receive from proper sources, and in proper quanti- man du-
ties; for, since the virtue of liberality is a mean state
it both giving and receiving, he will in both cases pro(iigal i
act* as he ought; for proper receiving is naturally receiving,
consequent upon proper giving, and improper re-
ceiving is the contrary. Habits, therefore, which
are naturally consequent upon each other are pro-
duced together in the same person, but those that
are contrary clearly cannot. But if it should happen 14.

to the liberal man to spend in a manner inconsistent When and
with propriety and what is honourable, he will feel
pain, but only moderately and as he ought, for it is ^eel pailu
characteristic of virtue to feel pleasure and pain at
proper objects, and in a proper manner. And the 12.

liberal man is ready to share his money with others ;

for, from his setting no value on it, he is liable to
be dealt with unjustly, and he is more annoyed at
not spending anything that he ought to have spent,

than pained at having spent what he ought not;

and he is no friend of Simonides.a But the prodigal 13,
man even in these cases acts wrongly, for he neither
feels pleasure nor pain, where he ought nor as
he ought. But it will be more clear to us as we
proceed.

a The poet Simonides is generally accused of avarice. Com-	4

pare Rhet. Book III. ch. ii90

iRISTOTLE'S

[book iv.

14,

Prodigal-
ity and il-
liberally
defined.

15,
Why pro-
digality is
better
than illi-
berally.

16.

Other
character-
istics of
prodigality.

But we have said that prodigality and illiberality
are the excess and the defect, and that they are
conversant with two things, giving and receiving,
for we include spending under giving. Prodigality,
therefore, exceeds in giving, and not receiving, and
falls short in receiving; but illiberality is deficient
in giving, but excessive in receiving, but only in
cases of small expenditure. Both the characteristics
of prodigality, therefore, are seldom found in the
same person; for it is not easy for a person who
receives from nobody to give to every body, for their
means soon fail private persons who give, and these
are the very persons who seem to be prodigal. This
character now would seem considerably better than
the illiberal one ; for he is easily to be cured by age
and by want, and is able to arrive at the mean 3 for
he has the qualifications of the liberal man ; for
he both gives and abstains from receiving, but in
neither instance as he ought, nor well. If, there-
fore, he could be accustomed to do this, or could
change his conduct in any other manner, he would
be liberal, for he will then give to proper objects,
and will not receive from improper sources; and for
this reason he does not seem to be bad in moral
character, for it is not the mark of a wicked or an
ungenerous man to be excessive in giving and not
receiving, but rather of a fool. But he who is in
this manner prodigal seems far better than the illi-
beral man, not only on account of the reasons already
stated, but also because he benefits many people,
while the other benefits nobody, not even himself.

But the majority of prodigals, as has been stated,
also receive from improper sources, and are in
this respect illiberal. Now, they become fond of
, receiving, because they wish to spend, and are not
able to do it easily, for their means soon fail them;
they are, therefore, compelled to get supplies from
some other quarter, and at the same time, owing to
their not caring for the honourable, they receive
without scruple from any person they can; for they
are anxious to give, and the how or the whence theyCHAP. I.]

ETHICS.

91

get the money matters not to them.b Therefore
their gifts are not liberal, for they are not honour-
able, nor dene for the sake of the honourable, nor
as they ought to be done j but sometimes they
make men rich who deserve to be poor, and will
give to men of virtuous characteis nothing, and to
flatterers, or those who provide them with any
other pleasure, much. Hence the generality of pro- is.
digals are intemperate also; for, spending money
carelessly, they are expensive also in acts of in-
temperance, and, because they do not live with a
view to the honourable, they fall away towards
pleasures. The .prodigal, therefore, if he be without
the guidance of a master, turns aside to these vices;

but if he happen to be taken care of, he may pos-
sibly arrive at the mean, and at propriety.

But illiberality is incurable, for old age and im- ^
becility of every kind seem to make men illiberal; Illibera-
and it is more congenial to human nature than pro- lity is in.
digality; for the generality of mankind are fond of cura^le*
money rather than of giving, and it extends very
widely, and has many forms, for there appear to Various
be many modes of illiberality; for as it consists in modes of
two things, the defect of giving, and the excess illiberality
of receiving, it does not exist in all persons entire,

but is sometimes divided; and some exceed in re-
ceiving, and others fall short in giving. For those 20.
who go by the names of parsimonious, stingy, and (petdwXoi
niggardly, all fall short in giving• but do not desire y^XP0L
what belongs to another, nor do they wish to /Cl^ £c*
receive, some of them from a certain fairness of
character, and caution lest they commit a base
action; for some people seem to take care of
their money, or at least say that they do, in order
that they may never be compelled to commit a 21.
disgraceful action. Of these also is the cummin- Kvyivo~

°	TTjOtOT^y,

b How often do we find the most profuse and extravagant
persons guilty of the most illiberal actions, and least scru-
pulous as to the means of getting money! This union of the
two extremes in the same individual is exemplified in the
character of Catiline, whom Sallust describes as being " Alieni
appetens, sui profusus."92

ARTSTOTLE'S

[book i?.

splitter, and every one of similar character, and he
derives Ids name from being in the excess of unwil-
lingness to give. Others, again, through fear abstain
from other persons' property, considering it difficult
for them to take what belongs to other people, with-
out other people taking theirs. They therefore are

22.	satisfied neither to receive nor give. Again, in re-
llopvoj3o<j- ceiying^ Some are excessive in receiving from any
-oKiffrai. source; and any thing; those, for instance, who ex-
ercise illiberal professions, and brothel-keepers, and
all persons of this kind, and usurers, and those who
lend small sums at high interest; for all these re-
ceive from improper sources, and in improper quan-

23.	tities. And the love of base gain appears to be
common to them all; for they all submit to re-
proach for the sake of gain, and even for small
gain. For we do not call those illiberal who receive
great things from improper sources, as tyrants, who
lay waste cities, and pillage temples, but rather
we call them wicked, impious, and unjust. But the

24.	gamester, the clothes-stealer, and the robber, are of
KvtevTrjg, the illiberal class, for they are fond of base gain;
\oj7toSv- for, for the sake of gain, both of them ply their

trades, and incur reproach. Clothes-stealers and
robbers submit to the greatest dangers for the sake
of the advantage they gain, and gamesters gain from

2«"». their friends, to whom they ought to give. Both,
therefore, are lovers of base gain, in that they desire
to gain from sources whence they ought not; and
all such modes of receiving are illiberal. With
reason, therefore, is illiberality said to be contrary
to liberality; for not only is it a greater evil than
prodigality, but also men are more apt to err on this
side than on the side of the prodigality before men-
tioned. Respecting liberality, therefore, and the
vices which are opposed to it, let thus much have
bacn said.CHAP. II.J

ETHICS.

93

CHAP. II.

Of Magnificence and Meanness.

But it would seem that tlie subject of magnificence 1.

is the next to be discussed ; for this likewise is a vir- How .
tue on the subject of money ; but it does not, like ^ciTdif
liberality, extend to all acts that pertain to money, fers from
but only those which involve great expenditure, liberality.
And in these it surpasses liberality in greatness ;

for, as its name signifies, it is appropriate expendi-
ture in great matters; but greatness is a relative
term; for the expense of the office of trierarch
and of the chief of a sacred embassy0 is not the
same. Propriety therefore depends upon the rela- 2.

tion of the expense to the expender ; the object of °n what
the expense ; and the quantity expended. But he j?l opri?ty
who in trifling, or in moderate matters, spends with
propriety, is not called magnificent; as in the line,
"I often gave to the wandering beggarj"d but
he who expends with propriety in great matters
is so called ; for the magnificent man is liberal;

but it does not follow any more for that, that the
liberal man should be magnificent. Of this habit 3.
the defect is called meanness ; the excess, bad taste
and vulgar profusion,e and all other names which
are applied to excess, not on proper, but improper
objects. But we will speak of them hereafter.

The magnificent man resembles one who pos- 4.

sesses knowledge, for he is able to discover what is How

c The rpi7)papxoL were those rich citizens at Athens, on
whom was imposed the public burden of furnishing and equip-
ping a trireme ; the Stiopoi were those who were sent on any
embassy for sacred purposes, such as to consult an oracle, or
attend a solemn meeting, &c. On the Xurovpyiai of the
Athenians, see Dr. Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities.

d See Horn. Odyss. xvii. 420.

c The Greek word is (Savavaia. This vice is callcd in the
Magn. Mor. i. 27, aaXaKiovela ; and in Eudem. Eth. ii. 3,
dcnvavripLa.94

ARISTOTLE'S

[ItOOK IV-

magnifi- appropriate, and to incur great expense in accor-
cence dance with it; for, as we said in the beginning, the
must be habit is defined by the energies, and by the acts of
prac ise . whjch ^ ^he habit. The expenses of the magni-
ficent man, therefore, are great and appropriate ;
such also are his works ; for so will his expense be
great, and be appropriate to his work. So that the
work ought to be worthy of the expense, and the
expense worthy, or even more than worthy, of the

5.	work. Now the magnificent man will incur such
Motive. expenses for the sake of the honourable ; for this

is common to all the virtues ; and besides, he will
do it with pleasure and with profuseness ; for exact
accuracy is mean ; and he would be more likely to
consider how he could do the thing most beautifully
or most appropriately, than how much it would
cost, or how he might do it at the smallest price.

6.	Consequently the magnificent man must necessarily
be liberal also ; for the liberal man will spend
what he ought, and as he ought; but in these cases
greatness is characteristic of the magnificent man.
Since, then, liberality belongs to these subjects, mag-
nificence will, even with the same expense, make its
work - more magnificent; for the excellence of a
possession and a work is different; for a possession
is most excellent when it is of the greatest value,
and would fetch most money, as gold; but a work,
when it is great and honourable ; for the contem-

• ^ piation of a work like this causes admiration, and
the magnificent causes admiration. The excellence
of a work, therefore, is magnificence in greatness.

Now all those things which we call honourable,
are included under the term expenses, as, for
example, those that relate to the gods, offerings,
temples, and sacrifices; likewise all those that
relate to anything divine ; and those which, being
done for the public good, are objects of laudable
ambition; as if men think that a person ought to
be splendid in the offices of ehoragus, or trierarch,
or public entertainer. But in all cases, as has been
said, there must be a reference to the rank and

Public
magnifi-
cence.«HAP. IT.Jj

ETHICS.

95

property of the person who expends; for the ex-
pense must have proper relation to these things.

and not only be appropriate to the work, but to the
doer of the work also. Hence a poor man cannot gm
be magnificent, for he has not property from which The poor
he can expend large sums with propriety; and the man cannot
poor man who attempts it is a fool; for it is incon-
sistent with his rank, and with propriety; but
excellence consists in doing it rightly. But magnifi- 9.

cent actions become those, to whom magnificent pro-
perty belongs previously, either by their own means,

or their ancestors, or any with whom they are con-
nected ; they also become the nobly born, the
famous, and so on ; for all these have greatness and
dignity. Such, then, is the character of the magni-
ficent man as near as possible, and in such expenses
is magnificence displayed; for these are the greatest
and most had in honour.

But of private expenses, those are the most 10.
magnificent which only happen for once ; as, for Private
example, a wedding, and anything of that kind ; magnifie
or anything in which the whole city, or the princi-
pal people, take an interest, and those which relate
to the reception and dismissal of strangers, and to
honorary gifts and recompenses ; for the magnificent
man is not inclined to spend upon himself, but
upon. the public; but gifts bear some resemblance
to offerings. It is also characteristic of the mag- u.
nificent man to furnish his house in a manner be-
coming his wealth; for this is an ornament to him ;

and to be more disposed to spend money on such
works as are lasting ; for these are the most honour-
able ; and in every case to attend to propriety; for
the same tilings are not suitable to gods and men,

nor to a temple and a tomb. And in the case 12.
of expenses, everything that is great in its kind,
is magnificent, and that which is great in a great
kind, is most magnificent; and next to that, that
which is great in another kind. And there i? a
difference between that which is great in the work,

and that which is great in the expenditure ; for a96

ARISTOTLE'S

[book m

most beautiful ball or oil-bottle is magnificent as a
pffc to a child, but the price of it is trifling and
illiberal. Hence it is the part of tlie magnificent
man to do what he does, of whatever description
it be, magnificently; for this is not easily sur-
passed, and has a due reference to the expense.
Such, then, is the character of the magnificent man.

13.	But he who is in excess, and is vulgarly profuse,
ftavavGOQ. is in excess, as we have said, in spending impro-
perly ; for in small expenses he will spend large
sums, and be inconsistently splendid ; for instance,
he will entertain his club-fellows with a marriage
feast;f and when furnishing a chorus for a comedy,
will introduce a purple robe into the parode, 8 like
the Megareans; and all this he will do, not for the
sake of the honourable, but to display his wealth,
imagining that by this means he shall be admired ;
and where he ought to spend much, he will'spend
little, and where he ought to spend little, much.

14.	But the mean man in all cases will be in the
MifcpoTrpe- defect, and though he may have spent very large
***?£• sums, will spoil the beauty of the whole for the

sake of a trifle ; and whatever he does, he will do
with hesitation, and will calculate how to spend
least money; and this he will do in a complaining
spirit, and will always think that he does more
than he has occasion to do. These two habits
are vices ; nevertheless they do not bring reproach
upon those guilty of them, from their neither being
hurtful to their neighbour, nor very disgraceful to
themselves.

f See Horn. Odyss. i. 225.

" But say, you jovial troop so gaily dress'd,

Is this a bridal or a friendly feast ? "

s The irapodoQ was the first speech of the whole chorus in
a Greek tragedy. It was so named as being the passage of the
chorus-song, sung whilst it was advancing to its proper place
in the orchestra, and therefore in anapaestic or marching verse.
The (Trdaifiov was chanted by the chorus when standing in its
proper position, See Smith's Diet Antiq. p. 983.cm A i*. m.]	ETHICS	$7

CHAP. III.

Of Magnanimity and Little. Mindedness.

Magnanimity,11 even from its very name, appears to 1.
be conversant with great matters. First let us de- Magnani
termine with what kind of great matters. But it lts

OD16Ct-

makes no difference whether we consider the habit, matter.
or the man who lives according to the habit. Now, Magna_
the magnanimous man appears to be he who, being nimous
really worthy, estimates his own worth highly; for man.
he who makes too low an estimate of it is a fool;

and no man who acts according to virtue can be a
fool, nor devoid of sense. The character before- 2.
mentioned, therefore, is magnanimous; for he whose
worth is low, and who estimates it lowly, is a modest
man, but not a magnanimous one; for magnani-
mity belongs to greatness, just as beauty exists only
with good stature;1 for little persons may be pretty,
and well proportioned, but cannot be beautiful.

He who estimates his own worth highly, when in 3.
reality he is unworthy, is vain ; but he who esti- Xavvoc.
mates it more highly than he deserves, is not in all
cases vain. He who estimates it less highly than 4.
it deserves, is little-noinded, whether his worth be
great or moderate, or if, when worth little, he esti-
mates himself at less; and the man of great worth Mi/cpo^t
appears especially little-minded; for what would he x°£-

h Magnanimity as described by Aristotle cannot be con-
sistent with the humility required by the Gospel. The Chris-
tian knows his utter unworthiness in the sight of God, and
therefore cannot form too low an estimate of his own worth.
Nevertheless that? there is such a virtue as Christian magna-
nimity is abundantly shown in the character of St. Paul. The
heathen virtue of magnanimity constituted a marked feature
in the character of a virtuous Athenian, and was doubtless also,

as Zell observes, a strong feature in the character of Aristotle
himself.

1 The Greeks considered a good stature a necessary charac-
teristic of beauty.—See the Rhetoric, I. v., also Horn. Odyss.

adii. 289.

H

ARISTOTLE'S

[book iv.

have done if bis worth, had not been so great %
£• The magnanimous man, therefore, in the greatness
of his merits, is in the highest place; but in his
proper estimation of himself, in the mean ; for he
estimates himself at the proper rate, while the
others are in the excess and defect. If, there-
fore, the magnanimous man, being worthy of great
things, thinks himself so, and still more of the great-
est things, his character must display itself upon
some one subject in particular.

g. Now, the term value is used with reference to
external goods; ^and_we must assume that to be

and which men of eminence are most desirous of.
and which is the prize of the most honourable acts :
and such a thing as this is honou:iLAJbiL±Ms is the
Ma nani greatest of external goods. The magnanimous man,
mous man therefore, acts with propriety on subjects of honour
conver- and dishonour. And, even without arguments to
sant with prove the point, it seems that the magnanimous
honour are concerned with honour, for great men esteem
which is themselves worthy of honour more than anything
the great- else; for it is, according to their desert. But the
est of ex- little-minded man is in the defect, both as regards
ternal ]^s own real merit and the magnanimous man's
dignity; but the vain man is in the excess as
regards his own real merit, but is in the defect as
regards that of the magnanimous man.
7. The magnanimous man, if he is worthy of the
The mag- highest honours, must be the best of men ; for the
nammous "better man is always worthy of the greater honour,
man 3. goo an(j	man 0f the greatest. The truly mag-

nanimous man must therefore be a good man ; and
it seems, that whatever is great in any virtue be-
longs to the magnanimous character; for it can in
nowise be befitting the magnanimous man to swing
his arms and run away1, nor to commit an act of

k The word here translated honour is	which signifies,

not the abstract principle to tcakov, but honourable distinc-
tion ; hence it is called an external good, for it is conferred on
us by others.

1 The phrase in the original srapacrdcravra Qevyeiv has theCHAP. III.]

ETHICS.

99

injustice; for what could be tlie motive to base
conduct to him to whom nothing is great 1 And if
we examine the particulars of the case, it will ap-
pear ridiculous that the magnanimous man should
not be a good man; and he could not even be de-
serving of honour, if he were a bad man; for honour
is the prize of virtue, and is bestowed upon the good.

Magnanimity, then, seems to be, as it were, a kind 3.
of ornament of the virtues ; for it makes them Magnani-
greater, and cannot exist without them. And for *s
this reason it is difficult to be really magnanimous;

for it is impossible, without perfect excellence and
goodness. The magnanimous character, therefore, The mag-
is principally displayed on the subject of honour nanimous
and dishonour. And in the case of great instances ™an con"
of honour, bestowed by the good, he will be mode-
rately gratified, under the idea that he has ob- gar(j to
tained what is his due, or even less than he de- honours,
serves; for no honour can be equivalent to perfect
virtue. Not but that he will receive it, because
they have nothing greater to give him; but honour
from any other persons, and on the score of trifles,

he will utterly despise; for these he does not de-
serve ; and likewise he will despise dishonour ; for
he cannot justly deserve it.

The magnanimous character is, therefore, as has 9.

been said, principally concerned with honours ; not To wealth,
but that in wealth and power, and all good and bad
fortune, however it may come to pass, he will behave
with moderation; and not be too much delighted
at success, nor too much grieved at failure; for he
will not feel thus even at honour, though it is the
greatest thing of all; for power and#wealth are
eligible because of the honour they confer ; at any
rate, those who possess them desire to be honoured
on account of them. To him, therefore, by whom
honour is lightly esteemed, nothing else can be im-
portant ; wherefore magnanimous men have the 10.
appearance of superciliousness. Instances of good Success

same signification as the Latin phrase demissis mmiibus fiigere;

«. e. to fly very rapidly.

H 2100

ARISTOTLE'S

[book iv.

contributes fortune also appear to contribute to magnanimity;

to magna- for the nobly born are thought worthy of honour,
nimitv

and those who possess power and wealth, for they
surpass others; and everything which is superior in
goodness is more honourable. Hence, such things
as these make men more magnanimous ; for by some

11.	people they are honoured. But in reality the good
man alone is deserving of honour ; but he who has
both is thought more worthy of honour; but thtose
who, without virtue, possess such good things as
these, neither have any right to think themselves
worthy of great things, nor are properly called mag-
nanimous ; for magnanimity cannot exist without
perfect virtue. But those who possess these things
become supercilious and insolent; for without virtue
it is difficult to bear good fortune with propriety;
and being unable to bear it, and thinking that
they excel others, they despise them, while' they
themselves do anything they please; for they imi-
tate the magnanimous man, though they are not
like him; but this they do wherever they can. Ac-
tions according to virtue they do not perform, but
they despise others. But the magnanimous man
feels contempt justly; for he forms his opinions
truly, but the others form theirs at random.

12.	The magnanimous man neither shuns nor is fond
As fco of danger, because there are but few things which he
courage. cares for; but to great dangers he exposes himself,

and when he does run any risk, he is unsparing of
his life, thinking that life is not worth having on

13.	some terms. He is disposed to bestow, but ashamed
to receive benefits; for the former is the part of a

As to libe - superior, the latter of an inferior; and he is dis-
rality. posed to make a more liberal return for favours;

for thus the original giver will have incurred an ad-
ditional obligation, and will have received a benefit.
He is thought also to recollect those whom he has
benefited, but not those from whom he has re-
ceived benefits; for the receiver is inferior to the
giver : but the magnanimous man wishes to be
superior and the benefits which he confers he hearsCHAP. III.]

ETHICS.

101

of with pleasure, but those which he receives with
pain. Thetis therefore says nothing to Jupiter about
the benefits she has conferred upon him, nor do the La-
cedaemonians to the Athenians, but only about those
which they have received.111 Against is characteristic 14.

of the magnanimous man to ask no favours, or very As to ask-
few, of anybody, but to be willing to serve others; inSfavours
and towards men of rank or fortune to be haughty
in his demeanour, but to be moderate towards men
of middle rank ; for to be superior to the former is
difficult and honourable, but to be superior to the
latter is easy; and among the former there is no-
thing ungenerous in being haughty; but to be so
amongst persons of humble rank is bad taste, just
like making a show of strength to the weak.

Another characteristic is, not to go in search of 15.
honour, nor where others occupy the first places; As to seek,
and to be inactive and slow, except where some in& honour
great honour is to be gained, or some great work to
be performed; and to be inclined to do but few
things, but those great and distinguished. He must
also necessarily be open in his hatreds and his friend-
ships ; for concealment is the part of a man who
is afraid, lie must care more for truth than for 16.
opinion. He must speak and act openly ; for this
is characteristic of a man who despises others; for
he is bold in speech, and therefore apt to despise

m See Horn. II. i. 503; where Thetis only hints at any
benefits which she may have conferred on Jupiter, but does not
dwell upon them at length or enumerate them.

" If e'er, O father of the gods ! she said,

My words could please thee, or my actions aid."

Pope, i. 652.

Callisthenes, who wrote a history (as we learn from Diodorus,

xiv. 117) commencing from the peace of Artaxerxes, says that
the Lacedaemonians, when invaded by the Thebans, sent for bid
to Athens, and said that they willingly passed over the benefits
which they had conferred on the Athenians, but remembered
those the Athenians had conferred upon them. Xenophon,

however (Hell. VI. v. 53), relates that they made mention of
the good offices that they conferred upon each other. It has
been supposed by some that both these examples are instances
of Aristotle's having quoted from memory, and thus having
fallen into error.W2

ARISTOTLE'S

[book iv

others, and truth-telling, except when he uses dis-
simulation;11 but to the vulgar he ought dissemble.

17. And he cannot live at the will of another, except it
r*5 % v a friend ; for it is servile; for which reason all
friendship, flatterers are mercenary, and low-minded men are
flatterers. He is not apt to admire ; for nothing is
ks to 18' ^reat to 3liin- does not recollect injuries; for
manners accurate recollection, especially of injuries, is not
and con- characteristic of the magnanimous man; but he ra-
duct. ther overlooks them. He is not fond of talking of
people; for he will neither speak of himself, nor of
anybody else; for he does not care that he himself
should be praised, nor that others should be blamed.
He is not disposed to praise; and therefore he does
not find fault even with his enemies, except for the
sake of wanton insult. He is by no means apt to com-
plain or supplicate help in unavoidable or trifling cala-
mities; for to be so in such cases shows anxiety about
them. He is apt to possess rather what is honourable
and unfruitful, than what is fruitful and useful; for

19.	this shows more self-sufficiency. The step of the
His gait, &s\ magnanimous man is slow, his voice deep, and his

language stately; for he who only feels anxiety
about few things is not apt to be in a hurry; and
he who thinks highly of nothing is not vehement;
and shrillness and quickness of speaking arise from
these things. This, therefore, is the character of
the magnanimous man.

20.	He who is in the defect is little-minded; he who
XogP ' is. ^ t]ae excess is vain- "these d° not seem to be
' * vicious, for they are not evil-doers, but only in error;

for the little-minded man, though worthy of good
things, deprives himself of his deserts; but yet he
resembles one who has something vicious about him,
from his not thinking himself worthy of good things,
and he seems ignorant of himself, for otherwise he

n EIpujv is a dissembler, one who says ,ess than he thinks,,
and is opposed to dXrjdrjg. Jtipujve'ia, dissimulation, espel
cially an ignorance purposely affected to provoke or confound
an antagonist,—irony, used by Socrates against the Sophists.
See Scott and Liddell's Lexicon. See another sense, in which
tlpuvua is used in the 7th chapter of this book.chap, ir.]

ETHICS.

103

would have desired those things of which ha was
worthy, especially as they are good things. Yet
such men as these seem not to be fools, but rather
idle. And such an opinion seems to make them
worse; for each man desires those things which are
according to his deserts; and they abstain even from
honourable actions and customs, considering them-
selves unworthy; and in like manner from exter-
nal goods.

But vain men are foolish, and ignorant of them- 21.^
selves, and this obviously; for, thinking them-
selves worthy, they aspire to distinction, and then
are found out; and they are fine in their dress, and
their gestures, and so on; and they wish their
good fortune to be known, and speak of it, hoping
to be honoured for it. But little-mindedness is
•more opposed to magnanimity than vanity, for it is
oftener found, and is worse. Magnanimity, there-
fore, as we have said, relates to great honour.

CHAP. IY.

Of the nameless Virtue which is conversant with the desire of
Honour.

There seems to be another virtue conversant with X.
the same habit, as was stated in the earlier part of Of the
our treatise,0 -which would appear to bear the same ^r^eess
relation to magnanimity, which liberality does to conver-
magnificence ; for both these have nothing to do sant with
with what is great, but dispose us as we ought to be sma11 in-
disposed towards what is moderate and small. And nours#
as in receiving and giving money there is a mean
habit, an excess, and a defect; so in the desire of
honour P also, there is the "more and the less" than we
° See Book II. ch. vii.

p An ambiguity might result from the difficulty of distin-
guishing in English between to kclXov and rifirj. The former
is the abstractedly honourable, the morally beautiful,—in Latin,
" honestumthe latter is honourable distinction conferred
on us by others.104

ARISTOTLE'S

[book IV,

ought, as well as the proper source, and the proper
manner; for we blame the lover of honour as desir-
ing honour too much, and from improper sources;
and the man who is destitute of the love of honour,
as one who does not deliberately prefer^ to be
honoured even for honourable things; .and some-
times we praise the lover of honour as manly and
noble ; at other times, him who is destitute of the
love of honour, as moderate and modest;r as we
2- said before. But it is clear, that as the expression,
" lover of anything," is used in more senses than
one, we do not use the term lover of honour always
with the same signification j but when we praise
him, we mean that he loves honour more than most
men ; and when we blame him, that he loves it
3. more than he ought. But since the mean state
The ex- ]las no name, the extremes seem to contend for
pear toaP" middle place, as being vacant; but wherever
contend there are an excess and defect, there is also a
for the mean. And men desire honour both too much
»ean. and too little, so that it is possible to desire it as
they ought. At any rate, this habit is praised,
being a nameless mean state on the subject of
honour. But compared with love of honour, it
appears to be the absence of all love for it; and
compared with this, it appears to be love of honour.
Compared with both, therefore, it in some sense has
the nature of both ; and this seems to be the case
with the other virtues also. But in this case the
extremes seem opposed, because the mean has no
name.

* Jlpoaipscng is translated throughout this work " deli-
berate preference," as expressing most literally the original.
It implies preference, not from mere impulse, but on principle,
as a matter of moral choice—as the act of a moral being.

r The word in the original is auxppwv. Considered as a
moral virtue, (Jhxppoavvr] signifies temperance,—the virtue, as
Aristotle says, rj aco'Cet rrjv typkva, which preserves the vigour
of the intellect. Here it signifies modesty, the virtue of a
sober and well-regulated mind.CHAP. V.]

ETHICS.

105

CHAP. V.

Of Meekness and Irascibility.

But meekness is a mean state on the subject of 1.

angry feelings. But because the mean has no TLp$6rrfg

name, and we can scarcely say that the extremes

have any, we give to the mean the name of

meekness, though it declines towards the defect,

which has n% name. But the excess might be its ex-

called a species of irascibility; for the passion is tremes.

anger, and the things that cause it are many and

various. He, therefore, who feels anger on proper 2.

occasions, at proper persons, and besides in a proper Clmrac-

manner, at proper times, and for a proper length of teristics of

time, is an obiect of praise. This character willthe mee^

•	• • m&n

therefore be the meek man, in the very points in

which meekness is an object of praise; for by thG
meek man we mean him who is undisturbed, and
not carried away by passion, but who feels anger
according to the dictates of reason, on proper occa-
sions, and for a proper length of time. But the
meek man seems to err rather on the side of defect;

for he is not inclined to revenge, but rather to for-
give. But the defect, whether it be a kind of 3.
insensibility to anger, or whatever it be, is blamed; The defect,
for those who do not feel anger in proper cases,
are thought to be fools, as well as those who do
not feel it in the proper manner, nor at the proper
time, nor at the proper persons; for such an one
seems to have no perception, nor sense of pain;

and from his insensibility to anger, he is not dis-
posed to defend himself; but it is like a slave to
endure insults offered to one's self, and to overlook
them when offered to one's relations. But the excess 4.

takes place in all the categories; for it is possible The excess,
to be angry with improper persons, on improper
occasions, too much, too quickly, or too long; yet
all these circumstances are not united in the same106

ARISTOTLE'S

[book it.

person; for it is impossible that they should be;
for the evil destroys itself, and if entire, becomes
intolerable.

5.	Irascible men, therefore, are easily angered, with
Oryi\oi. improper objects, on improper occasions, and too

much; but their anger quickly ceases, and this is
the best point in their character. And this is the
case with them, because they do not restrain
their anger, but retaliate openly and visibly, be-
because of their impetuosity, and then they be-

6.	come calm. The choleric, who are disposed to be
Afcpoxo- angry with everything, and on evey occasion, are
^01• likewise in excess; whence also they derive their

7.	name. But the bitter are difficult to be appeased,
UiKpoL and retain their anger a long time, for they repress

their rage ; but there comes a cessation, when they
have retaliated; for revenge makes their anger
cease, because it produces pleasure instead of the
previous pain. But if they do not get revenge, they
feel a weight of disappointment: for, owing to its
not showing itself, no one reasons with them; and
there is need of time for a man to digest his anger
within him.* Persons of this character are very
troublesome to themselves, and to their best friends.

8.	But we call those persons ill-tempered who
feel anger on improper occasions, too much, or
too long, and who do not become reconciled with-
out revenge or punishment. But we consider the
excess to. be more opposite to the mean than the
defect, for it occurs more frequently ; for revenge is
more natural to man than meekness: and the ill-
tempered are worse to live with than any. But the
.observation which was made in the former part, is
clear from what we are now saying ; for it is diffi-
cult to determine with accuracy the manner, the
persons, the occasions, and the length of time for

8 Etymologists have doubted whether the composition of
aicpoxoXog be aicpog, or atcparog, but this observation of
Aristotle shows that in his opinion the word is derived from
dfcpog, an extreme.

* Hoc est conficere ac seel are perturbationem.—Felicianus.

KaXeiroi„

Irascibi-
lity is
more op-
posed to
7rpyorriQ
than the
opposite
extreme.CW VP. vs.]

ETHICS.

107

•which one ought to be angry, and at what point
one ceases to act rightly, or wrongly. For he 9.
who transgresses the limit a little is not blamed, Slight
whether it be on the side of excess or deficiency : ^^lamed.
and we sometimes praise those who fall short, and no m
call them meek ; and we call the irascible manly,

as being able to govern. But it is not easy to lay
down a precise rule as to the extent and nature of
the transgression, by which a man becomes cul-
pable ; for the decision must be left to particular
cases, and to the moral sense. Thus much, how- 10.

ever, is clear, that the mean habit is praiseworthy,

according to which we feel anger with proper per-
sons, on proper occasions, in a proper manner, and
so forth : and the excesses and defects are blame-
able ; a little blameable when they are only a little
distance from the mean; more blameable when they
are farther; and when they are very far, very blame-
able. It is clear, therefore, that we must hold to
the mean habit. Let the habits, therefore, which
relate to anger have been sufficiently discussed.

CHAP. VI.

Of the Social Virtue and its Contraries.

But in the intercourse of life and society, and the 1
interchange of words and actions, some people Of the so-
appear to be men-pleasers ; who praise everything cial virtue
with a view to give pleasure, and never in any APS<7(C0(-
case take the opposite side, but think they ought
to give no pain or annoyance to those in whose
society they happen to be; others, contrary to
these, who oppose everything, and are utterly
careless of giving pain, are called cross and quar-
relsome. That these habits are blameable, is 2,
tvident; and likewise that the mean habit be- Av<tko\o
Iween them is praiseworthy, according to which
A man will approve and disapprove of proper108

ARISTOTLE'S

[book 1v„

3.	objects, and in a proper manner. There is no
The mean name assigned to this habit, but it most resembles
^Jsv'rov ^en^skip > f°r he who acts according to the mean
arepyeiv h&bit is such as we mean by the expression, "a kind

and gentle friend," if we add thereto the idea of
affection; while this habit differs from friendship,
in being without passion and affection for those
with whom one has intercourse ; for it is not from
being a friend or an enemy that he approves or dis-
approves in every case properly, but because it is
his nature ; for he will do it alike in the case of
those whom he knows, and those whom he does not
know, and to those with whom he is intimate, and to
those with whom he is not intimate, except that he
will always do it properly; for it is not fit in the
same way to pay regard to, or to give pain, to
intimate friends and strangers.

4.	Generally, therefore, we have said, that in his
It aims at intercourse he will behave properly; and referring
giving Ixis conduct to the principles of honour and ex-

DiB&surp	xx

pediency, he will aim at not giving pain, or at
giving pleasure. For he seems to be concerned
with the pleasures and pains that arise in the inter-
course of society ; and in all of these in which it is
dishonourable or inexpedient to give pleasure, he
will show disapprobation, and will deliberately prefer
to give pain. And if the action bring upon the
doer disgrace or harm, and that not small, and the
opposite course of conduct only slight pain, he will

5.	not approve, but will disapprove of it highly. But
his manner of intercourse will be different with
persons of rank, and with ordinary persons, and
with those who are more or less known to him;
and in all other cases of difference he will act in
like manner, awarding to each his due : and
abstractedly preferring to give pleasure, and
cautious about giving pain, but yet attending
always to the results, I mean to the honourable
and the expedient, if they be greater than the
pain. And for the sake of giving great pleasure
afterwards, he will inflict small pain. Such, then,CHAP. VI*.]

ETHICS,

309

is lie who is in the mean, but it has not a name. 6.
But of those who give pleasure, he who aims at being Distinc-
pleasant, without any further object, is a man- J^en
pleaser • he who does it that some benefit may and iipta
accrue to him in money or that which money pur- koq.
chases, is a flatterer. But as for him who gives
pain and always disapproves, we have said that he
is morose and quarrelsome. But the extremes
appear opposed to each other, because the mean
has no name.

CHAP. YII.

Of the Truthful, and those in the Extremes.

The mean state on the subject of arrogance is con- 1.

cerned with almost the same object matter as the Truthfu-.
last; this also has no name. But it would be no bad ness*
plan to go through and enumerate such habits as
these; for we should have a more accurate knowledge
of what relates to moral character, when we have gone
through them individually ; and we should believe
that the virtues are mean states, if we saw at one
comprehensive view that the position was true in
every instance. .Now, in social intercourse, those 2.
persons who associate with others for the purpose
of giving pleasure, and those who do it for the
purpose of giving pain, have been treated of. But
let us speak of those who are true, and those who
are false, in their words, their actions, and their
pretensions.

Now, the arrogant man appears inclined to pre- 3.

tend to things honourable, which do not belong to Excess
him, and to things greater than what belong to ^fect3^
him : the falsely modest, on the other hand, is apt povtia
to deny what really does belong to him, or to (false mo-
make it out to be less than it is. But he who is desty)«
in the mean is, as it were, a real character, truthful
in his actions and his words, and ready to allow
that he possesses what he really possesses, without110

ARISTOTLE'S

{•BOOK IV.

making it greater or less. But it is possible to do
all these things with or without a motive. But
every one, except he acts with a motive, speaks,
acts, and lives, according to his character. But
falsehood, abstractedly, is bad and blameable, and
truth honourable and praiseworthy ; and thus the
truthful man being in the mean, is praiseworthy ;
while the false are both blameable; but the arrogant

4.	man more so than the other. But let us speak
mot a\rj- about each separately: and first, about the truthful;
SevTiKov. for we are not speaking of him who speaks truth

in his agreements, nor in matters that relate to
injustice or justice; for this would belong to another
virtue; but of him who in cases of no such conse-
quence observes truth in his words and actions,
from being such in character.

5.	But such a man would appear to be a worthy
man ; for the lover of truth, since he observes it in
matters of no consequence, will observe it still more
in matters of consequence ; for inasmuch as he who
is cautious of falsehood for its own sake, will surely
be cautious of it as being disgraceful; and such a man
is praiseworthy. But he declines from the truth
rather on the side of defect; for this appears to be
in better taste, because excesses are hateful.

6.	But he who makes pretensions to greater things
Arrogant, than really belong to him, without any motive, re-
sembles a base man, for otherwise he would not have
taken pleasure in the falsehood; but still he appears
foolish rather than bad. But if it be with a motive,
he who does it for the sake of glory or honour is
not very blameable, as the arrogant man ; but he
who does it for the sake of money is more dishonour-

h able. But the character of the arrogant man does
not consist in the power of being so, but in the de-
liberate preference to be so; for he is arrogant, just
as the liar, from the habit, and from his being of
this character. Those, therefore, who are arrogant
for the sake of honour, pretend to such things
as are followed by praise or congratulation ; those
who are so for the sake of gain pretend to such<JHAP VII.]

ETHICS.

Ill

things as their neighbours reap the advantage of,

and of which the absence in themselves may escape
notice, as that they are skilful11 physicians or sooth-
sayers j wherefore most men pretend to such things
as these, and are thus arrogant; for they possess
the qualities which we have mentioned.

But the falsely modest, who speak of themselves 8.

on the side of defect, seem more refined in character; Falsely
for they are not thought to speak for the sake of moc^stl
gain, but to avoid that which is troublesome to
others. These, too, more than other men, deny that
they possess honourable qualities; as Socrates also
did. But those who pretend to things of small im-
portance, and which they evidently do not possess,

are called cunning and consequential, and are very
contemptible. And false modesty appears some- 9.

times to be arrogance; as the dress of the La- BavKowaw
cedsemonians; for too great defect, as well as ovpyoifi
excess itself, looks like arrogance. But those who False
make a moderate use of false modesty, and in cases modesty
where the truth is not too obvious and plain, appear sometime
polished. But the arrogant seems to be opposed to 1S arro"
the truthful character, for it is the worse of the two §ance°
extremes/

u If (TG(pbv is here a substantive, it must be an attack upon
the Sophists as pretenders to wisdom which they did not pos-
sess. The preceding passage renders this not improbable, for
one great difference between the Sophists and the philoso-
phers, who were, like Plato and Aristotle, opposed to them,

was that they taught for gain. This their opponents thought
unworthy of the dignity of a philosopher. The teaching of
Socrates professed to be, as Aristotle asserts below, directly
opposed to anything like pretension, hence the elpojveia,

which was one characteristic of it. On this subject Michelet
refers to an essay of Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil., torn. ii. pp. 53-57.

For an able and elaborate defence of the Sophists, and most
interesting observations on the teaching of Socrates, see Grote's
Hist, of Greece, vol. viii. pp. 67 and 68.

T Bavico7ravovpyo£, a rogue who puts a good face on the
worst case.—Liddell and Scott.112

ARISTOTLE S

[book xvt

CHAP. VITT.

Of graceful or polished Wit, and its contrary.

1.	Bur since there are periods of relaxation in life,

The virtue and in them sportive pastime is admissible, in

in periods of case also there seems to be a certain method
relaxation. « . ,	. , ,

oi intercourse consistent with propriety and good

taste, and also of saying proper things and in a

proper manner; and likewise a proper manner

of hearing. But there will be a difference in point

of the persons among whom we speak, or whom

2.	we hear. But it is clear that on these subjects
there is excess and defect. Those, therefore, who

Bw/,to\6%of exceed in the ridiculous appear to be buffoons
and vulgar, always longing for something ridi-
culous, and aiming more at exciting laughter
than speaking decently, and causing no pain to
*A}pioi. the object of their sarcasm. But those who neither
say anything laughable themselves, nor approve of

3.	it in others, appear to be clownish and harsh ; but
'EvrpaiTE- those who are sportive with good taste are called
\°i. men of graceful wit (evrpaireXoi, from ev, well, and

Tpe7ro), to turn), as possessing versatility, for such
talents seem to be the gestures of the moral
character; and the character, like the body, is
judged of by its gestures. But since what is ridi-
culous is on the surface, and the generality of man-
kind are pleased with sport, and even with over-
much jesting, even buffoons are called men of grace-
ful wit, as though they were refined ; but from
what has been said, it is clear that they differ from
them, and differ considerably.

4.	But tact peculiarly belongs to the mean habit;
Tact. and it is the part of a clever man of tact to

speak and listen to such things as befit a worthy
man and a gentleman; for in sport there are some
things which it is proper for such a man to say and
to listen to. And the sportiveness of the gentle-
man differs from that of the slave, and that of tha*H<AP. VIII.]

ETHICS.

113

educated from that of the uneducated man : and a
person might see this difference from the difference Comedy,
between old and recent comedies ;w in the old ones
obscenity constituted the ridiculous; in the modern
ones inuendo ; and there is considerable difference
between these in point of decency.

Must we, then, define the man who jests with *»•
propriety as one who says such tilings as are not 0 £v <TKOja
unbefitting a gentleman ? or who takes care not to
give pain to his hearer, but rather to give plea-
sure ? or is such a thing as this incapable of defini-
tion? for different things are hateful and pleasant
to different people. The tilings which he will say
he will also listen to ; for it is thought that a man
would do those things which he would bear to hear
of. Now, he will not do everything that he will
listen to ; for a scoff is a sort of opprobrious ex-
pression ; and there are some opprobrious expres-
sions which are forbidden by legislators; and
perhaps there are things at which they ought to
have forbidden men to scoff. Now, the refined
and gentlemanly man will so behave, being as it
were a law to himself: and such is he who is in
the mean, whether he be called a man of tact, or of
graceful wit.

But the buffoon cannot resist what is ridiculous, 6.
and spares neither himself nor anybody else, if he Bw/ioXoxoj
can but raise a laugh ; and this he will do by
saying such things as the gentleman would not
think of saying, or sometimes even of listening "^y^l0Q,
to. But the clownish man is in all such companies
useless, for he contributes nothing, and disapproves
of everything. But recreation and sport appear to
be necessary in life.

Now, .these just mentioned are the mean states The*e
in the social intercourse of life; they all refer to the
interchange of certain words and actions, but they refer t0
differ, in that one relates to truth, and others to the social

w The dramatic literature of our own country, as well as
that of Athens, furnishes a valuable index to the progress of
refinement and moral education.114	ARISTOTLE'S	[book iv.

intercourse pleasure. But of those that relate to pleasure, one is
of life. concerned -with sport, the other with the other in-
tercourse of life.

CHAP. IX.

Of the Sense of Shame.

1.	But it is not proper to speak of the sense of shame
AISuq de- as a virtue, for it is more like a passion than a habit;
fined: it ^ js therefore defined as a kind of fear of disgrace ;
virtue \ut e^ec^s ^ resembles very nearly the fear
a passion, that is experienced in danger ; for those who are

ashamed grow red, and those who fear death turn
pale. Both, therefore, appear to be in some sort
connected with the body; and this seems charac-

2.	teristic of a passion rather than a habit. But this
Adapted passion befits not every age, but only that of youth;
properly for we think it right that young persons should be
to yout . £eej s}iaiIie^ because from living in obedience

to passion they commit many faults, and are re-
strained by a sense of shame. And we praise those
young persons who are apt to feel shame; but no
man would praise an older person for being shame-
faced ; for we think it wrong that he should do
anything to be ashamed of; for shame is no part
of the cnaracter of the good man, if, indeed,
it be true that it follows unworthy actions; for
such things he ought not to do. But whether the
things be in reality or only in opinion disgraceful,
it makes no difference; for neither ought to be
done; so that a man ought not to feel shame.

3_ Moreover, it* is a mark of a bad man to be of
Shame not such character as to do any of these things. But
the proof to be of such character as to feel shame in case he
mang°°d should do any such action, and for this cause to
think himself a good man, is absurd; for shame
follows only voluntary actions ; but the good man
will never do bad actions voluntarily. But shame
may be hypothetically a worthy feeling; for if a manCHAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

were to do such a tiling, lie would be ashamed; „

tliis has nothing to do with the virtues : but though
shamelessness, and not to be ashamed to do dis-
graceful actions, be bad; yet it is not on this account
a virtue for a man who does such things to be 4.
ashamed. Neither is continence, properly speak- Continence
ing, a virtue, but a kind of mixed virtue; but the (£YKPa-
subject of continence shall be fully discussed here- ^
after. But now let us speak of justice.	t&e.116

> 0 0 K V

CHAP. I.

Of Justice and Injustice.a

1, But we must inquire into the sub ject of justice arid
injustice, and see what kind of actions they are con-
cerned with, what kind of mean state justice is, and

a This book is almost identically the same with the fourth
book of the Eudemean Ethics. A passage in Plato's treatise
De Legibus, p. 757, quoted by Brewer, p. 167, shows how
far the views of the great master and his distinguished pupil
coincided on this subject of particular justice. As far as
regarded universal justice, the theory of Plato was as fol-
lows:— He considered the soul a republic (De Rep. iv.),
composed of three faculties or orders. (1.) Reason, the go-
verning principle. (2.) The irascible passions. (3.) The
concupiscible passions. When each of these three faculties of
the mind confined itself to its proper office, without attempt-
ing to encroach upon that of any other; when reason go-
verned, and the passions obeyed, then the result was that
complete virtue, which Plato denominated justice. Under
the idea of universal justice will be comprehended the " jus-
titia expletrix," and u justitia attributrix," of Grotius; the
former of which consists in abstaining from what is another's,
and in doing voluntarily whatever we can with propriety be
forced to do ; the latter, which consists in proper beneficence,
and which comprehends all the social virtues. This latter
kind has been by some termed il distributive justice," but in
a different sense from that in which the expression is used by
Aristotle. — (A. $mith, Mor. Sent. Part VII. 2.) With
respect to particular justice, distributive justice takes cogni~
zance of the acts of men, considered in relation to the state,
and comprehends what we call criminal cases. Corrective
justice considers men in relation to each other, and compre-
hends civil cases. Aristotle has also treated the subject o.f
justice and injustice, though in a less scientific manner, in
his Rhetoric, Book I. cc. xii. xiii. xiv., to the translation of
which, in this series, together with the accompanying notes,
the reader is referred.6hap. I ]

ETHtCS.

117

betweea what things "the just/' that is, the ab-
stract ^principle of justice, is a mean. But let our
investigation be conducted after the same method as
in the case of the virtues already discussed., We see. 2.

then, that all men mean by the term justice that Justice
kind of habit from which men are apt to perforin fn(i ^ns'

•	tlCG Qft»

just actions, and from which they act justly, and fine(j#

wish for just things; and similarly in the case of in justice
injustice, that habit from which they act unjustly, three
and wish for unjust things.) Let these tilings, thmSs are
therefore, be first laid down as it were in outline; ^ecessar^*
for the case is not the same in sciences and capacities j" Capacity,
as in habits; for the same capacity and science seems 2. Moral
to comprehend within its sphere contraries; but choice,
one contrary habit does not infer the other con- 3. Action,
trary acts :b for instance, it is not the case that, from a^dXt-
the habit of health, the contrary acts are performed, (TT^V may
but only the healthy ones ; for we say that a man be of con-
walks healthily when he walks as a healthy man !;r^*.ies 5
would walk. Hence a contrary habit is often n^t<lfc can'
known from its contrary; and the habits are often ^

known from the things connected with and attend- A* habit
ant upon them; for if the good habit of body be may be
well known, the bad habit becomes known also ; and known
the good habit is known from the things which be- fro"1 its
long to it, and these things from the good habit; con iary*
for if the good habit of body be firmness of flesh, it
necessarily follows that the bad habit of body is
looseness of flesh; and that which is likely to cause
the good habit of body is that which is likely to
cause firmness of flesh.

But it, generally speaking, follows, that if the one

of two contraries be used in more senses than one,

the other contrary is likewise used ih more senses

than one : for instance, if the just is so used, so also 5.

is the unjust. But justice and injustice seem to be The terms

used in more senses than one ; but because of their justice and

injustice

b The same habit cannot have to do with contraries, whereas
the same science can, e. g. the habit of health can only produce
healthy action, but the science of healing can, if abused, pio-
iJuce unhealthiness.118

AttlSTOTLE'S

['BOOK T.

have more close affinity, their homonymy escapes notico, and is
than one not so clear to be understood, as in the case of things
tion^hich ^^ely differing; for the difference in species is a
however, ' great difference : for instance, both the bon<< under
is scarcely the neck of animals, and that with which they
observa- iock doors, are called by the same Greek word
ble, did, ^ K\eiQt Let us, then, ascertain/in how many senses
r*/raT°fc 1 the term unjust man is used. / Now, the transgressor
6. of law appears to be unjust, and the man who takes
The just more than his share, and the unequal man; so that
man is j ^ ciear that the just man also will mean the maiji
andl%aoQw^° ac^s * accor(^I1g to law, and the equal man}
the SucaiQv The just will therefore be the lawful and the equal;
is v6ixi}xov and the unjust the unlawful and the unequal. But
therefore" s*nce unjust Inai1 is also one who takes more
the^ucov than his share, h6 will be of this character with re-
is 7rapavo- gard to goods; not, indeed, all goods, but only those
juov and in which there is good and bad fortune ; and these
civiGov. are absolutely always good, but relatively not always.
' Yet men pray for and pursue these things; they
ought not, however ; but they ought to pray that
absolute goods may be goods relatively to them-
selves, and they ought to choose those things which
are good to themselves.0
8. But the unjust man does not always choose too
much, but sometimes too little, in the case of things
absolutely bad, but because even the smaller evil

:—0----- appears to be in some sense a good, and covetous-

just. / negg for is good, for this reason he appears
v—to take more than his share. He is also unequal;

/for this includes the other, and is a common term.
But since the transgressor of law is, as we said, un-
just, and the keeper of law just, it is clear that all
c See Juven. Sat. x. :—

" Say, then, shall man, deprived all power of choice,

Ne'er raise to Heaven the supplicating voice ?

Not so; but to the gods his fortunes trust:

Their thoughts are wise, their dispensations just.

What best may profit or delight they know,

And real good for fancied bliss bestow :

With eyes of pity they our frailties scan ;

More dear to them than, to himself, is man."

Gifford's Transl. 5GaT.

All lawful

CHAP. I.]

ETHICS.

119

lawful things are in some sense just ; for those
things which have been defined by the legislative
science a>re lawful: and each one of these we assert
to be justA But laws make mention of all subjects, iq.

with a view either to the common advantage of all, Object oi
or of menrin power, or of the best citizens ;d accord- la^s-
ing to virtue, or some other such standard. So
that in one way we call those things just which are
adapted to produce and preserve happiness and its
parts for the social community. But the law di- 11.

rects the performance of the acts of the brave man;
for instance, not to leave his post, nor to fly, nor to
throw away his arms; and the acts of the temperate
man; for instance, not to commit adultery or out-
rage ; and the acts of the meek man; for instance,

not to assault or abuse ; and in like manner, in the
case of the other virtues and vices, it enjoins one ^

class of actions, and forbids the other; a well-made \

law does it well, and one framed off-hand and with-
out consideration badly.

( This justice, therefore, is perfect virtue) not abso- 12.

lutely, but relatively. And for this reason -justice Fn/.ver®aA
«/j^ -	v	v ^ mstice xs

often appears to be the most excellent of the vir- ra^e'ia but

tues; and neither the evening nor the morning star relatively
is so admirable.e And in a proverb/ we say, " In it is Ka\-
justice all virtue is comprehended." ?And it is more ^L(JTri-
than any others perfect virtue, becausi it is the exer-
cise of perfect virtue; and it is perfect, because the	|

possessor of it is able to exercise his virtue towards
another person, and not only in reference to him-
self ; for many men are able to exercise virtue in
their own concerns, but not in matters which con- hepov,
cern other peopled For this reason, the saying of
Bias seems to be'a good one, " Power will show the

d This distinction is drawn in order to make the assertion
applicable to the circumstances both of democratical and aris- t
tocratical states. Oi apivroi, the best citizens, i. e. the
aristocracy.

e There is no doubt that this is a proverbial saying, but
whence it comes is doubtful; by some it has been attributed
to Euripides, by others, on the authority of Theophrastus, to
Theognis.—ZelL120	ARISTOTLE'S	[book v.

1^, man;" for tlie man in power is at once associated
with and stands in relation to others. And for this
same reason justice alone, of all the virtues, seems
to be a good to another person, because it has rela-
tion to another; for it does what is advantageous
to some one else, either to tl^e head, or to some
member of the commonwealth! That man, there-
fore, is the worst who acts viciously both as re-
/ gards himself and his friends ; and that man is the
I / best who acts virtuously not as regards himself, but
[/ as regards another; for this is a difficult task.
14. This kind of justice, therefore, is not a division of
virtue, but the whole of virtue ; nor is the contrary
Universal injustice a part of vice, but the whole of vice. But
justice the difference between virtue and this kind o£ jus-
differs from ^jce js dear from the preceding statements; for the
tue 60 Vlr" habits are the same, but their essence is not the
same ; but so far as justice in this sense relates to
^another, it is justice; so far as it is such and such
a habit, it is simply virtue/

CHAP. II.

Of the nature and qualities of Particular Justice,

1. But that justice which is a part of virtue is the ob-
That there ject of our investigation; for (as we say) there is
lar^fn'ustice suc^ a kind of justice : and, likewise, that injustice
(tt\tove- which is a part of vice : and this is a proof that
\ia)	there is ; for he who energizes according to the other

vices acts unjustly, but does not take more than
his share ; as the man who through fear has thrown
away his shield, or through moroseness has used abu-
sive language, or through illiberality has refused to
give pecuniary assistance ; but whenever a man takes

f Virtue and universal justice are substantially the same,
hut in the mode of their existence they differ; or, in other
words, the same habit, which, when considered absolutely, is
termed virtue, is, when considered as a relative duty; termed
universal Justice.CHAP. II,]

ETHICS.

121

mere than his share, he does so frequently not from
any one of these vices, still less from all of them,

but still from some vice (for we blame him);

namely from injustice. /There is, therefore, some 2.

other kind of injustice, Which is as a part to-a It differs
whole, and some " unjust," which is related to that ^e°r^]U ^g" (
"unjust" which transgresses the law, as a part to a part
whole. \ Again, if one man commits adultery for a whole,
the ssfcke of gain, and receives something for it in
addition, and another does so at some cost for the
gratification of his lusts, the latter would seem to
be intemperate rather than taking more than his
share; and the former unjust, but not intemperate:

it is clear, at any rate, that he committed the crime
for the sake of gain. Again, in all other acts of 3. /
injustice it is possible always to refer the action to\/

some specific vice : for instance, if a person has
committed adultery, you may refer it to intempe-
rance ; if he has deserted his comrade's side in the
ranks, to cowardice; if he has committed an assault,

to anger; but if he has gained anything by^he
act, you can refer it to no vice but injustice. P'So'4
that it is evident that there is another kind of\iii\

justice besides universal injustice, which is a part of
it, and is called by the same name, because the
generic definition of both is the same; for the whole ^

force of both consists in relation; but one is conver-ZParticulaiK
sant with honour, money, safety, or with whateveiyustice- J
common term would comprehend all these ; and its^—•—
motive is the pleasure arising from gain; whilst the Universal
other is conversant with all things with which a justice,
good man is concerned. \ It is clear, therefore, that
there are more kindsf of justice than one, and that
there is another kind besides that which is universal
virtue : but we must ascertain its generic and spe^

cific character.	\

jNow, the " unjust" has been divided into the un-Jj
lawful and the unequal; and "the just" into the
lawful and the equal, ., 7 Now, the injustice before
mentioned is according to the unlawful. But since
the unequal and the more are not the same, but122

ARISTOTLE'S

[book v.

different, tliat is, that one bears to the other the
relation of a part to a whole/ for everything which is
more is unequal, but it is not true that everything
which is unequal is more ; and in the same way the
unjust and injustice &re not the same, but different
in the two cases; in the one case being as parts, in the
other as wholes ; for this injustice of which we are
now treating is a part of universal injustice ; and
in like manner particular justice, is a part of uni-
versal justice ; so that we must speak of the parti-
cular justice and the particular injustice ; and in
like manner of the particular just, and the parti-

6.	cular unjust. Let us, then, dismiss that justice and
Universal injustice which is conversant with universal virtue,
justice dis- the one being the exercise of universal virtue with
mlsse ' relation to another, and the other of universal vice ;

and it is clear that we must dismiss also the just and
j unjust which are involved in these ;r%r one may
f almost say that the greater part of things lawful
! are those the doing of which arises from universal
i virtue ; for the law enjoins that we live according
j to each particular virtue, and forbids our living ac-
I cording to each particular vice ; and all those law-
* ful things which are enjoined by law in the matter
of social education are the causes which produce

7.	universal virtue. But as to private education, ac-
cording to which a man is good absolutely, we must
hereafter determine whether it belongs to the poli-
tical or any other science ; for it is not perhaps en-
tirely the same thing in every case to be a good
man and a good citizen. But of the particular jus-
tice, and of the particular just which is according
to it, one species is that which is concerned in the

« The generic word " unequal" comprehends under it the
specific ones "more" and "less," and therefore is to them
as a whole to its parts. Hence it is to be observed that the
words "whole" and "part" are used in their logical rela-
tion : for, logically, the genus contains the species; whereas,
metaphysically, the species contains the genus : e. g. we divide
logically the genus " man" into "European, Asiatic," &c.,
but each of the species, European, &c., contains the idea of
together with the characteristic difference.

8

Particular
justice di-
vided into
Distribu-
tive.CHAP. III.]

ETHICS.

123

distributions of honour, or of wealth, or of any pf
those other things which can possibly be distributed x
among the members of a political community ; for
in these cases it is possible that one person, as com-
pared with another, should have an unequal or an 9.

equal share ; the other is that which is corrective Corrective,
in transactions11 between man and man. And of	\

this there are two divisions ; for some transactions	1

are voluntary, and others involuntary : the vo- Transac-
luntary are such as follow; selling, buying, lending,

pledging transactions, borrowing,1 depositing of trusts, Voluntary j
hiring; and they are so called because the origin of Involun- /
such transactions is voluntary. Of involuntary trans- tary. /
actions, some are secret, as theft, adultery, poison-
ing, pandering, enticing away of slaves, assassination,

false witness ; others accompanied with violence, as
assault, imprisonment, death, robbery, mutilation,
evil-speaking, contumelious language.

CHAP. III.

Of Distributive Justice.

But since the unjust man is unequal, and the unjust 1. _

'is unequal, it is clear that there is some mean of the A Just act.

•« i 2.1 • • .li	i j?	x* is a mean in

unequal; and this is the equal; lor in every action tw0 thingS)

in which there is the more and the less equal, there and with

is the equal also: If, therefore, the unjust be un- reference to

equal, the just is equal; but this, without argument, ^sper"

h The word avvaWayixara, here rendered "transactions,"

must not be understood as being limited to cases of obligations
voluntarily incurred, but as comprehending all cases of obli-
gation which exist in the dealings between man and man,

whether moral, social, or political. A avvaXkayiia ttzovaiov
may be either verbal or written; if written, it may be
(1.) crvvOrjKrjf which term is generally used of political agree-
ments or conventions ; (2.) avyy^d^rj, a legal bond; (3.)
ayiutoXaiov, an instrument in the case of a pecuniary loan.

See Rhet. I. xv.

* %pi?criq is that contract which the Roman jurists terra
u commodatum."—Michelet.124	ARISTOTLE'S	[book v4

must b2 clear to everybody. ^But since the equal is
a mean, the just must also be a kind of mean.) But
the equal implies two terms at least; the just, there-
fore, must be both a mean and equal, it must relate
to some things and some persons. In that it is a
mean, it must relate to two things, and these are
the more and the less; in that it is equal, to two
\/ ^hings, and in that it is just to certain persons.
_ 2./lt follows, therefore, that the just must imply four
b^four^11 *erms a"k leas"k J f°r the persons to whom the just
terms • relates are two, and the tilings that are the subjects
two per- of the actions are two. \ And there will be the
sons and same equality between the persons and between the
two things, things; for as the things are to one another so
are the persons, for if the persons are unequal, they
will not have equal things.

3. /But hence arise all disputes and quarrels, when
equal persons have unequal things, or unequal per-
sons have and have assigned to them equal thmgl
Again, this is clear from the expression " according
to worthj" for, in distributions, all.agreetliat justice
—Ought to be according to some standard of worth, yet
all do not make that standard the same; for those
^ who are inclined to democracy consider liberty as
\ the standard ; those who are inclined to oligarchy,
\ wealth ; others, nobility of birth and those who are
Y4. inclined to aristocracy, virtue.k / Justice, therefore, is
n\ something proportionate^ for proportion is the pro-
perty not of arithmetical numbers only, but of num-
ber universally; for proportion is an equality of ratio,
and implies four terms at least. Now it is clear,
that disjunctive proportion implies four terms; but
continuous proportion is in four terms also; for it
will use one term in place of two, and mention it
twice ; for instance, as A to B, so is B to 0 ; B has
therefore been mentioned twice. So that if B b(
put down twice, the terms of the proportion are four,
Moreover, the just also implies four terms at least,
and the ratio is the same, for the persons and the
things are similarly divided. Therefore, as the terra
k Compare Arist. Rhet. Book I. c< vixi.CHAP. IV. j

ETHICS.

125

A to the term B/so will be the term C to the term D;
and therefore, alternately, as A to C so B to D. So
that the whole also bears the same proportion to the
whole which the distribution puts together in pairs;

and. if it puts them together in this way, it puts
them together justly.1 The conjunction, therefore,
of A and 0 and of B and D is the just in the dis-
tribution ; and this just is a mean, that is, a mean
between those things which are contrary to propor-
tion ; for the proportionate is a mean, and the just
is proportionate. But mathematicians call this kind 6.
of proportion geometrical, for in geometrical propor-
tion it comes to pass that the whole has the same ratio
to the whole which each of the parts has to the other;
but this proportion is not continuous, for the^person The pro,
and the thing are not one term numerically. (But the portions'
unjust is that which is contrary to proportion; there J^ouls f
is one kind, therefore, on the side of excess, and one	;

on the side of defect; and this is the case in acts,

for he who acts unjustly has too mu and the man	!

who is treated unjustly too little good'. But in the 7. \j
case of evil, the same thing happens inversely, for
the less evil compared with the greater becomes a
good; for the less eidl is more eligible than the
greater, and the eligible is good, and the more
eligible a greater good. This, therefore, is one
species of the just.

CHAP. IY.

Of Justice in Transactions between Man and Man. S

>j

But the other one is the corrective, and its pro vince vi.

is all transactions, as well voluntary as involuntary. In correc*
But this just has a different form from the preeed- j;|ve iu.s'
ing; for that which is distributive of common pro- j^icaT

1 A : B :: C : D.

Alternando, A : C : : B : D.

Componendo, A+C : B + D : : A : U.

Alternando, A+C : A :• B + D : B.126

ARISTOTLE'S

[book v\

propor- perty is alway^according to the proportion before
tion is ob- mentioned. For if the distribution be of common
^use^it^6" ProPerty> ^ will be made according to the propor-
regards tie tion which the original contributions bear to each
acts, and! other j and the unjust which is opposed to this just is
not the j contrary to the proportionate^/ /But the just which
Pxce°°S?o ex^s transactions is something equal, and the
far as ve- ^j11^ something unequal, but not according to
gards / —i geometrical but arithmetical proportion; for it mat*
Ztjfiid. ters not whether a good man has robbed a bad man,

2.	or a bad man a good man, nor whether a good or a
bad man has committed adultery; the law looks to
the difference of the hurt alone, and treats the per-

\sons, if one commits and the other suffers injury, as
equal, aird^also if one has done and the other suf-

3.	fered hurt,) So that the judge endeavours to make
this UBjlisf which is unequal, equal ; for when one

x man is struck and the other strikes, or even when

\ one kills - and the other dies, the suffering and the
doing are divided into unequal parts ; but then he
endeavours by means of punishment to equalize
them, by taking somewhat away from the gain.j For
the term " gain" is used (to speak once for "all) in
such cases, although in some it may not be the exact
word, as in the case of the man who strikes a blow,
and the term " loss" in the case of the man who
suffers it; but when the suffering is measured, the
expressions gain and loss are used.

4.	So that the equal is the mean between the more
and the less. But gain and loss are one more, and
the other less, in contrary ways; that is, the more
of good and the less of evil is a gain, and the

Correc- contrary is a loss. Between which thre mean is
tive justice the equal, which we call the just. |3o that the
a mean just which is corrective must be the^mean be-

I>etWend tween loss and gainj> Hence it is that when men

gain&n have a quarrel they go to the judge; but going to

5.	the judge is going to the just ; for the meaning

of the word judge is a living personification of the

just; and they seek a judge as a mean ; some call

them mediators, under the idea that if they hitCHAP. IV.]

ETHICS.

127

the mean, they will hit the just; the just, therefore,

is a kind of mean, because the judge is.

But the judge equalizes, and, just as^if a line 6.
had been cut into two unequal part^fhe takes How
away from the greater part that quantityby which ^mined *
it exceeds the real half, and adds it to the lesser,

part j^jbut when the whole is divided into two
equSX parts, then they say that the parties have

their own when they have got an equal share......

But the equal is the mean between greater and 7. \

less, according to arithmetical proportion. For J

this reason also it is called Elkcllov, because it is

Six a (in two parts), just as if a person should call Etymology

it ILxcllov (divided in two), and the SiKcuTrrjg is sc of biKcaov.

called, being as it were cLycwrriQ (a divider). For

when two things are equal, and from the one

something is taken away and added to the other,

this other exceeds by twice this quantity ; for if it

had been taken away from the one, and not added

to the other, it would have exceeded by once this

quantity only; it would therefore have exceeded the

mean by once this quantity, and the mean would

have exceeded that part from which it was taken

by once this quantity. |By this means, therefore, 8.

we shall know both whalk it is right to take away

from him who has too much, and what to add

to him who has too little. For the quantity by

which the mean exceeds the loss must be added to

him who has the loss, and the quantity by which

the mean is exceeded by\the greater must be taken

away from the greatest^

For instance, the lines AA, BB, CC, are equal to 9.

each other; from the line AA, let AE be taken,

or its equal CD, and added to line CC ; so that the
whole DCC exceeds AE by CD and CZ; it there-
fore exceeds BB by CD.m But these terms, loss and Origin of
m The following figure will explain Aristotle's meaning:— andizaiD^8

A--1--A

B---B

Zj	128	ARISTOTLE'S	[book v.

I	gain, take their rise from voluntary barter ; for the

|	having more than a man's own is called gainings

|	and to have less than he originally had, to suffer

loss ; as in selling and buying, and all other trans-
| 10. actions in which the law affords protection. | But
I when the result is neither more nor less, butHhe
\| condition of parties is the same as before, they say
that men have their own, and are neither losers nor
gainers. So that the just is a mean between gain
and loss in involuntary transaction^, that is the
having the same both before and aft en

CHAP. Y.

Of Retaliation.n

1- Some people think that retaliation is absolutely

organs	as ^e Pythagoreans said ; for they- simply

called defined justice as retaliation to another. / But reta-

Justice liation does not fit in either swith the idea-of distri-

retaliation, butive or corrective justice j and yet they would

tacauseCtly' -^ave that this is the meaning of the Bhadamanthian

they called ruH " If a man suffers what he has done, straight-

it so simply, forward justice would take place:" for in many

and^not points it is at variance; as for example, if a man

Kar ava- -n ailf)]3 ority has struck another, it is not right that
\oy iclv •	m	•

he should be struck in return j and if a man has

struck a person in authority, it is right that he

should not only be struck, but punished besides.

\	n The law of retaliation, "lex talionis," or commutative

justice, differs in the following respect from distributive and
corrective justice. As we have seen, distributive justice pro-
ceeds on the principle of geometrical proportion,—corrective
justice on that of arithmetical; commutative justice, on both.
For instance, we first compare the commodities and the per-
sons geometrically ; as the builder is to the shoemaker, so is
the number of shoes to the house. Next we give the shoe-
maker a house, which renders the parties unequal. We then
restore the equality arithmetically, by taking away from the
shoemaker the equivalent to the house reckone i in shoes, and
restoring it to the builder.CHAP. V.]

ETHICS.

129

Again, tlie voluntariness and mvokTntariness of an 2.

action make a great difference. /But in the inter- avrnn*
course of exchange, such a notioi/ of justice as reta- L^va_
liation, if it be according to proportion and not \0yiav,
according to equality, holds men together. For by the cases
proportionate retaliation civil society is held toge- are brought
ther; for men either seek to retaliate evil (for °ther- *°^a^tain
wise, if a man must not retaliate, his condition
appears to be as bad as slavery) or to retaliate good
(for otherwise there is no interchange of good offices,

and by these society is held together) ; and for this
reason they build the temple of the Graces in the
public way,0 to teach that kindness ought to be re-
turned, for this is peculiar to. gratitude; for it is right
to return a service to the person who has done a
favour, and then to be one's self the first to confer the
next.I But diametrical conjunction causes propor- 3.

tiopjfte return ;P for example, let the builder be A, The rule of

thlf&hoemaker B, a house C, and a shoe D : the builder diametrical

conjunc-

0 The temples of the Graces were usually built in the tion.
ayopai. This was the case at Sparta ; and Pausanias informs
us that it was also the case at Orchomense and Olympia. The
Graces, therefore, must be reckoned amongst the Qeoi ayo-
paioi. Cicero says,—" Oportet quoquein civitate bene insti-
tuta templum esse Gratiarum, ut meminerint homines gratias
. esse referendas."

p The following figure will explain what is meant by diame-
trical conjunction : —

In commercial intercourse, A takes so many D's as are equal
to C, and B takes in exchange C, and this equalization is
effected either by direct barter, or by means of the common
measure, money. Respecting " value," and the subjects con-
nected with it, the student is referred to any treatises on poli-
tical economy. Aristotle treats of the relation which subsists
between demand la) and value in the Politics, I. iii.130

ARISTOTLE'S

[book v.

therefore ought to receive from the shoemaker some
of his work, and to give him. some of his own in re-
turn. If, therefore, there be proportionate equa-
lity in the first instance, and then retaliation take
place, there will be the state of things which we
described ; if not, there is no equality, nor any
Equality bond to hold commercial dealings together : for
wlU be , there is no reason why the work of one should not
byobsCTv- better than the work of the other; these things,
ing the re- therefore, must be equalized; and this is true in
lative pro- the case of the other arts also ; for they would be
portion of pUt an end to, unless equality were observed be-
things.S an "tween dealer and the person .dealt with, both

4.	as regards quantity and quality. | For commercial
intercourse does not take place between two physi-
cians, but between a physician and an agriculturist,
and generally between persons who are different,
and unequal; but it is necessary that these be made
equal. Therefore it is necessary that all things, of
which there is interchange, should be in some

5.	manner commensurable^ And for .this_jpuj:p.Qse
-money came into use,^ and it is in some sense a
medium7'for it measures everything; so that it

; measures excess and defect; for example, it measures
/ how many shoes are equal to a house or to a certain

6.	quantity of food. As therefore the builder to the
neces- shoemaker, so must be the number of shoes to the

sity of a house or the food; for if this be not the case, there
Measure.	he no interchange, nor commerce. But this

\ proportion cannot exist, unless the things are in
some manner equal. It is therefore neoessary tl;at
all things should be measured, as was before said,
by some one thing.

7.	Now, demand is in reality the bond which keeps
The com- all commercial dealings together. For if men
■won mea- wanted nothing, or not so much, there would not
'demand),ta any? or no^ so much commerce. But money is
or its sub- as it were the substitute for demand; and hence
ititute, it has the name vo^ic/ja, because it is not so by
money. nature, but by law	and because it is in oar
defined own Power to change it, and render it useless.

chap, v.]	ETHICS.	131 /

V

There mil, therefore, be retaliation, when equaliza- 8.

tion lias taken place. As, therefore, the agriculturistIllustr3B
to the shoemaker, so is the work of the shoemaker tloa*
to that of the agriculturist. But when they make
an exchange, it is necessary to bring them to the
form of a proportion, for otherwise one extreme will
have both excesses of the mean. But when they
have their own rights they are equal, and able to deal
with one another, because this equality is able to
take place between them. Let the agriculturist be A, 9.
the food C, the shoemaker B, and his work made
equal to the agriculturist's work D. But if it had
been impossible for them to have made this mutual
return, there would have been no commercial in-
tercourse between them. Now that demand, being
as it were one thing, is the bond which, in
such circumstances, holds men together, is proved
by the fact that when two men have no need of one
another (nor one has need of the other) they do not
have commercial dealings together : as they do when
one is in need of what another has (wine, for in-
stance), giving in return corn for exportation. They
must, therefore, be made equal.

But with a view to future exchange, if we have 1()
at present no need of it, money is, as it were, our Money a
surety, that when we are in need we shall be able pledge that
to make it; for it is necessary that a man who we ^ay
brings money should be able to get what he requires. Change
But even money is liable to the same objection as when we
other commodities, for it is not always of equal want it.
value ; but, nevertheless, it is more likely to re-,

main firm. Therefore all things ought to have
measure of value; for thus there will always be|\
exchange, and if there is this, there will be com-j \

merce. 1 Money, therefore, as a measure, by making '

things commensurable, equalizes them; for there
could be no commerce without exchange, no ex-
change without equality, and no equality without
the possibility of being commensurate) Now, in
reality, it is impossible that things-^o widely dif-
ferent should become commensurable, but it is sufE-

KO132

ARISTOTLE'S

£book v.

ciently possible as far as demand requires. It is
necessary, therefore, that there be some one thing;
and this must be decided by agreement. Where-
fore it is called money (vo/xtcr/ia); for this makes
all things commensurable, for all things are mea-
ts^ sured by money. Let a house be A, ten minse B, ci
Illustra- xa bed C. Now, A is half B (supposing a house
tlon* to be worth or equal to five minse), and the bed
0 a tenth part of B, it is clear, therefore, how
many beds are equal to a house, namely, five. But
it is clear that this was the method of exchange
before the introduction of money; for it makes no
difference whether five beds, or the price of five

13.	beds, be given for a house. ISTow we .have said
what the just and what the unjust are. i But this
being decided, it is clear that just acting'\s a mean
between acting and suffering injustice ; for one is

Justice and having too much, and the other too little. But
virtues161" jus^ce a mean state, but not in the same manner
differ in as before-mentioned virtues, but because it is of
that Siicaiov a mean, and injustice of the extremes.^ And jus-
is itself a tice is that habit, according to which-the just man
mean. js saj^ to be disposed to practise the just in accord-
ance. .with deliberate preference, and to distribute
justly, .between himself and another, and between
twa-Qther--persons ; not so as to take more of the
good himself, and give less of it to the other, and
inversely in the case of evil; but to take an equal
share according to proportion ; and in like nianner

14.	between two other persons\ But injustice, on the
Injustice contrary, is all this with rp^pect to the unjust; and
defined. this is the Excess and delect of what is useful and

hurtful, contrary to the proportionate. "Wherefore
injustice is both excess and defect, because it is pro-
ductive of excess and defect; that is, in a man's

4 On the subject of Greek money, see the articles and
tables in Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities.

r The other virtues are mean habits between two extremes ;
e. g., courage is a mean between rashness and cowardice;
justice, on the other hand, is not in the mean between two
extremes, but its subject-matter (to dUatov) is a mean be-
tween too much and too little.CHAP. VI.]

ETHICS.

138

own case excess of what is absolutely good, and de-
fect of what is hurtful; but in the case of others,
his conduct generally is the same : but the violation
of proportion is on either side as it may happen.
But in the case of an unjust act, the defect is the 15*
being injured, and the excess to injure. Now, re-
specting justice and injustice, and the nature of
each, as also respecting the just and the unj'ist, let
the manner in which we have treated the subject be
deemed sufficient.

CHAP. YL

Of Political and Economical Justice.s

pUT since it is possible for him who does unjust 1.

Wits to be not yet unjust, by the commission of An unjust
what sort of unjust acts does a man become at once ^an^act * '
unjust in each particular kind of injustice 1 as, for 0f
example, a thief, an adulterer, or a robber nor is this
question of no consequence 1 for a man might have
connection with a woman, knowing perfectly who
she is, and yet not at all from deliberate preference,

but from passion. He therefore commits an unjust 2-<

act, but is not unjust; just as he is not a thief, but
he has committed theft; nor an adulterer, but he
has committed /Adultery ; and in like manner in all
other cases. Mow, the relation which retaliation 3.

bears to justice has been already stated. But it
ought not to escape our notice, that the abstract,
and political just^is the just of which we are in
search"; "buOEistakes place in the case of those Political
who live as members of society, with a view to self- justice.

8 From the discussion of the subject of moral justice, Aris-
totle proceeds to that of political, and states that, according to
its principles, he who commits an unjust action is not neces-
sarily a morally unjust man: as he might have acted not of
deliberate purpose (which is essential to a moral act), but
from impulse or passion. In morals, regard is paid to tshe
intention, in civil wrongs we only look to the action done, and
the damage or wrong inflicted.—See Michelet's Com. p. 177.134

ARISTOTLE'S

[book v.

sufficiency, and who are free and equal either pro-

4.	portionately or numerically So that all those
who are not in this condition have not the political
just in relation to one another, but only a kind of
just, so called from its resemblance. For the term
just implies the case of those who have laws to
which they are subject: and law implies cases of
injustice; for the administration of law is the de-
cision of the just and the unjust. Now, injustice
always implies an unjust act, but an unjust act does

/not always imply injustice. ]STow, to act unjustly
means to give to one's self too great a share of abso-
lute goods, and too small a share of absolute evils.

5.	/This is the reason why we do not suffer a man
We do not to rale, but reason; because a man rules for him-
manV but anc^ becomes a tyrant. But a ruler is the
reason to / guardian of the just ;ss and if of the just, of equality
govern us .i also. But since a man seems to get no advantage

/ himself if he is just (for he does not award too
much absolute good to himself, except it be propor-
tionately his due), for this reason he acts for others ;
and hence they say, as was before also observed,

6.	that justice is another man's good. Some compen-
sation must therefore be given ; and this is honour

A£<t7rori- and prerogative : but all those who are not content
kov d'ucai- ^vvith theirs become tyrants. But the just in the
Dv'	case of master and slave, and father and child, is not

the same as these, but similar to them ; for there is
not injustice, abstractedly, towards one's own; a
possession and a child, as long as he be of a certain
age, and be not separated from his father, being as
it were a part of him; and no man deliberately
chooses to hurt himself ; and therefore there is no
injustice towards one's self: therefore there is
neither the political just nor unjust; for politic,1
n/ justice was stated to be accordingute-l&w... and in the
case^oFtho^Jxe££een_whom^la^ naturally exist";
anthtfresew eresaid to be persons" tcT^EomtKere
belongs equality of govemmg and being governed.

\	18 For rulers axe not a terror to good works, but to tho

^	evil.—Rom. xiii. 3 ; see also 1 Pet. ii. 14.CHAP. VII.]

ETHICS

135

Hence, the just exists more between a husband 8.
and wife than between father and child, or master
and slave; for this is economic justice; but this, oUopofti
too, differs from political justice.11	nov.

CHAP. VII.

Of Natural and Legal Justice.

Of the political *~kist, one part is natural,u and 1. ^
tike other legal. J ffhe natural is that which every- Political
where is equSHy vglid, and depends not upon being ls
or not being received? But the legal is that which kjnds:
originally was a matter of indifference, but which, Natural.'
when enacted, fsTD^no—longer ; as the price of Legal.
ransom7 being fixed at a mina, or the sacrificing a
goat, and not two sheep ;w and further, all parti-
cular acts of legislation ; as the sacrificing to Bra-
sidas,x anciall those matters which are the subjects
of decrees^A But to some persons all just things 2,

*	It is frequently Aristotle's practice to examine different
existing theories, and to show how far his own coincides with
them. Hence, as justice was divided into political and econo-
mic, his object is to show that the justice which he has
treated of comes under the division of political justice. It \

cannot belong to the economic, as it assumes the existence ofx ;
two persons; whereas a man's wife or children, or servants, TJ
are considered as parts of himself.	j

u See the Rhetoric, Book I. xiii., in which he quotes Anti-
gone's defence of her determination to bury Polynices, as an
example of natural justice. Legal justice is that which is
established by the law of the land, or arbitrarily and conven-
tionally ; e, g. killing a man is naturally unjust,—killing a
hare, conventionally or legally.

v The price of redemption was different at different periods.

Acciajoli says, that in the Peloponnesian war it was fixed at one
mina; Herodotus (Book VI. lxxix.) states, that the Pelo-
ponnesians fixed two minse as the ransom of a prisoner of war.

w Herodotus (II. xlii.). All who sacrifice to the Theban
Zeus, or who belong to the province of Thebes, abstain from
offering sheep, and sacrifice goats ; it is probable that Aristotle
is alluding to this Egyptian custom.

x See Thucydides, BookV. xi., where the historian speaks
of the hero-worship offered to Brasidas by the Amphipolitans.

*	The decree (xl/q<pi<y/ia) was an act of the legislaturex\?vISTOTLE'S

[book v-

appear to be matters of law, because that which ls
natural is ue changeable, and has the same power
everywhere, just as fire burns both here and in
Persia ;z but they see that just things are subject to
change. This is not really the case, but only in some
sense ; and yet with, the gods perhaps it is by no
means so; but with us there is something which ex-
ists by nature; still it may be argued, everything
3. with us is subject to change, yet nevertheless there
That na- is that which is by nature and that which is not.aa

tural justice q£ things contingent, what is natural, and what is

is subiect to	o	o ✓	s

change no^ natural, but legal, and settled by agreement

does not (even granting that both are alike subject to change),,

prove that is evident ; and the same distinction will apply to

exist** n0t °^er casesj for, naturally, the right hand is

stronger than the left; and yet it is possible for

^ some people to use both equally. But that justice

' which depends upoa agreement \and expediency,

resembles the cas?/j to measures; vfor measures of

wine and corn are not everywhere equal; but where

men buy they are larger, and where they sell again

smaller.bb And in like manner, that justice which

for a temporary purpose, whereas a law (voiioq) is perpetual.—
See also c. x., and Polit. IV. iv.

z This Greek proverb is said to have originated from the
circumstance, that the Greeks came in contact with Persia
.almost exclusively among foreign nations. Compare Cic. de
Repub. iii, : 11 Jus enim de quo quserimus, civile est, aliquod
naturale nullum ; nam si esset, ut calida et frigida et amara
et dulcia, sic essent justa et injusta eadem omnibus." This
was the opinion of the Pvrrhonists, and was afterwards sup-
ported by Carneades, the founder of the new academy. On the
opinions of the Sophists on this subject, see Plato de Leg.
p. 889 ; Gorgias, p. 482; Repub. d. 338 ; Protag. p. 337 ;
Theset. p. 172.—Brewer, p. 195.

The text here followed is that of Bekker : that of Cardwell
is somewhat different; but, nevertheless, whichever reading is
adopted, the meaning of the passage will still be the same.
Michelet gives the following Latin paraphrase: " Jus apud
Deos est immutabile, jus apud homines mutabile omne ; sunt
tamen nihilominus hominum jura queedam naturalia, qusedam
non." He adds, that he considers Bekker's reading the true
one: for further discussion of this passage the reader is re-
ferred to his Commentary, p. 182.

bb It is difficult to say whether Aristotle here alludes to aCHAP. VIII.]

ETHICS.

137

is not natural, but of man's invention., is not e very- /
where the same; since neither are all political con-
stitutions, although there is one which wo aid be by
nature the best everywhere ; J)ut there can be but
one by nature best everywhere!

(Every principle of justice /4nd of law has the 5.
remtion of a universal to a particular ; for the
things done are many; but each principle is sin-
gular ; for it is universal. There is a difference
between an unjust act and the abstract injustj and	,

between a just act and the abstract just; for a differ: so
thing is unjust partly by nature, or by ordinance, also do Si*
But the same thing, as soon as it is done, becomes
an unjust act; but before it was done it was not yet ov an^
an unjust act, but unjust; and the same may be tcaioTrpd-
said of a just act. The common term for a just yrjfxa.
act is more correctly hiKaioirpaynna, and dueaiufia is
the correction of an unjust act. But of each of
these, what and how many species there are, and
with what subjects they are conversant, must be
ascertained afterwards.

CHAP. VIII.

Of the Three Kinds of Offences.

Now, since the abstract just and unjust are what
^they have been stated to be, a man acts unjustly
and justly whenever he does these things volun-
tarily ; but when he does them involuntarily, he
neither acts unjustly nor justly, except accidentally ;
for they do kits which accidentally happen to be
just or unju^ft But an unjust act and a just act &
are decideaby the voluntariness and involuntari-

local custom or to one acted upon generally between exporting
and importing nations. He may possibly be referring to one
similar to that which exists in the London milk-trade, in
which the barn gallon, as it is called, of the wholesale dealer,
is larger than the imperial gallon, by which milk is retailed.138

ARISTOTLE S

[BOOK V.

An action ness of tliem ; for whenever an act is voluntary it
minecTb ^ainec^ i and at. tlie same time it becomes an un-
itseeing5" jus^ ac^ : so that there will be something, unjust
done vo- which is not yet an unjust act, excepVfche condi-
luntarily tion of voluntariness be added to it. f I call that
or invo- voluntary, as also has been said before, which (being
un an y. ^ ^ ^ 0wn power) a man does knowingly, and
not from ignorance of the person, the instrument,
or the motive ; as of the person he strikes, the
instrument, and the motive of striking, and each
of those particulars, not accidentally, nor by com-
pulsion ; as if another man were to take hold of his
hand, and strike a third person ; in this case he did
it not^ voluntarily, for the act was not in his own

4. powers Again, it is possible that the person struck
Also by the shoTffd be the father of the striker, and that the
knowled I striker should know him to be a man, or be one of
and by j' the company, and yet not know him to be his own
the motive, father. Let the same distinction be applied in the
s I case of the motive, and #11 the other particulars
i attending the whole act. Consequently, that which
is done through ignorance/or if not done through
ignorance, is not in a man's own power, or is done
through compulsion, is involuntary. For we both
do and suffer many things which naturally befall
us, not one of which is either voluntary or invo-
luntary ; as, for example, growing old, and dying)

6.	/But the being done accidentally may occur in the
Accident. cag^ 0f unjust as well as of the just; for a man

might return a deposit involuntarily, and through
fear, and yet we must not say that he does a just
act, or acts justly, except accidentally.! And in
like manner we must say that that man -afccidentally
does an unjust act, and acts unjustly, who upon com-
pulsion, and against his own will, refuses to return a

7.	deposit. But of voluntary acts, some we do from
deliberate preference, and others not. We do those
from deliberate preference which we do after pre-
vious deliberation ; and we do those not from deli-
berate preference which we do without previous

8.	deliberation. Now, since there are three kh)ds ofCHAP. VIII.]

ETHICS,

139

liurtscc in the intercourse of society, those which are BX«£at.
done in ignorance are mistakes, i. e. whenever a
man does the mischief to a different person, in a
different manner, with a different instrument, or
from a different motive from what he intended 3 for /
perhaps he did not intend to strike, or not with /

this instrument, or not this person, or not for this V

Eurpose, but something different to his purpose
appened; as, for example, he did not intend to
wound, but merely to prick; or he did not mean
to jfound this person, or not in this manner.

"When, therefore, the hurt takes place contrary 9.
to expectation, it is an accident; when not contrary 'Arvxv^>
to expectation, but without wicked intent, it is a
mistake ; for a man makes a mistake when the fia'
principle of causation is in himself; but when it is
external, he is unfortunam But when he does it 10.
knowingly, but without previous deliberation, it is 'A^k^/in.
an unjust act, as all tho^e things which are done
through anger, and the other passions, which are
necessary or natural; for by such hurts and such
mistakes they act unjustly, and the actions are un-
just ; still the doers are not yet on this account
unjust ok wicked; for the hurt did not arise from
depravity J put when any one acts from-deliberate n.
prefej^ttee, Be is then unjust and wicked. ) Hence, Upoaipema
very properly, acts done through angier are de- constitutes
cided not to proceed from premeditation ; for he q^^usT*
who acts through anger is not the originator, but -j2
he who angered him. Again, even the question is
not one of fact, but of justice ; for anger is felt at
apparent injustice.dd For there is no dispute, as in
the case of contracts, respecting the fact (in which
case one of the two must be vicious, unless they do
it from forgetfulness), but, agreeing about the fact,

cc See the Rhetoric, I. xiii. Properly there are four kinds of
&urts:—

1.	orav itapaXoywg 77	y'evrjrai—Casus.

2.	orav fii] 7rapa\oyu)g, avev de Kaiciag—Culpa.

3.	orav eldojg fiev firi TrpotovXevcrag de—Dolus mdirectw

4.	orav ek rrpoaLpecreutg—Dolus directus.—Michelet.

** See definition of anger in Rhet. Book II.140

ARISTOTLE'S

[book v.

they dispute on which, side is the justice of the case,
/But he who plotted against the other is not igno-
I rant, so that the one thinks himself injured, but
the other does not think so. If a man has done
harm from deliberate preference, he acts unjustly;
and he who in such acts of injustice acts unjustly is
forthwith unjust whenever his acts are contrary to
the proportionate and the equal act.\
13.	ma^e.^.too, the j ust maii_is he, who on

deliberate preference acts justly ; but/he acts justly,
provided he only acts voluntarily." /But of inVolun-
tary actions, some are pardonable,! and others un-
pardonable ; for all those acts which are done, not-
only ignorantly, but through ignorance, are par-
donable ; but all which are done not through igno-
rance, but ignorantly, through passjon neither
natural nor human,ee are unpardonable./

CHAP. IX.

Of being Injured, and that no one can be injured with his own
consent.

1. But it might be questioned whether sufficiently ac-
Whetl.er curate distinctions have been made on the subject of
fn*ure ^ receiving and committing injustice. First, whether
himself. be, as Euripides has absurdly said, " He slew my
mother; the tale is short; willing he slew her
willing; or unwilling he killed her willing."ff For
is it really true, or is it not true, that a person can
with his own consent be injured 1 or is not being
injured altogether involuntary, just as committing

ee Human passions are Xv7rrj, <po€og, ZXeog, grief, fear, pity ;
I the natural appetites are TreXva, dixjja, hunger and thirst.
1 We-are inclined to pardon him who acts at -the,,jnstjg.ation of
these; e.g. we readily make allowance for,a starving man who
steals a. loaf to satisfy the cravings of his hunger.
; ff Michaelis Ephesius, and a scholiast, quoted by Zell, attri-
bute these lines to the Bellerophon, but it is much more pro-
bable that they are derived from the Alcmena —Brewer.*HAP. IX.3

ETHICS.

141

injury is altogether voluntary ? or are all cases this
way or tliat way, just as committing injury is en-
tirely voluntary; or are some cases voluntary and
others involuntary 1

And the same question arises in the case of being 2.

justly dealt with; for. all just acting is voluntary,

so that it is reasonable to suppose that the receiving
of unjust or just treatment should be similarly op-
posed with respect to the question of voluntariness
or involuntariness. But it would seem absurd, in
the case of being justly dealt with, that it should
be altogether voluntary; for some people are justly
dealt by without their consent, ss The truth is, even 3.
the following question might be raised, whether he
who has suffered an injury is necessarily injured, or Whether
whether the case is not the same in suffering as in a man is
acting ? for in both cases it is possible to participate flways V1"
in what is just accidentally. But it is clear that it
is the same in unjust actions; for doing unjust unjustly,
actions is not synonymous with being unjust, and 4.
suffering unjust actions is therefore not the same^

with being injured ; and in the case of acting justly \
and being justly dealt by, the case is similar, for it J
is impossible to be unjustly dealt by when nobody j
acts unjustly, or to be justly dealt by when nobody/

actsf justly.

put if acting unjustly simply means hurting any 5.
onp voluntarily, and the expression " voluntary" What
means knowing the person, the instrument, and the anTn'ur^*
manner, and if the incontinent man hurts himself an mjur^'
voluntarily, then he would be injured voluntarily,

and it would be possible for a man to injure him-
self ; but this likewise is one of the disputed points,

whether it is possible for a man to injure himself.)

Again, a man might, through incontinence, be 6.
voluntarily hurt by another person acting volun-
tarily, so that it would be possible for "him to be

w A.cciajoli says, that Aristotle distinguishes eight conditions
of just and unjust actions 5 viz. injuriam agere, injuriam pati;

jus agere, jus pati; iDjustum agere, injustum pati; juhtua?

agere, justum pati.142

ARISTOTLE'S

[rook v

voluntarily injured. Or is the definition incorrect,
and must we add to the statement that he who
hurts must know the person, the instrument, and
the manner, the condition that it must be against
7./the other's will 1 Then it follows, that a person
/ can be- voluntarily hurt and suffer acts of injus-
/ tice, but that no one can be voluntarily injured;
for no one, not even the incontinent man, wishes to
be injured, but he acts against his wish; for no one
I wills what he does not think good, but the incon-
\ tinent man does what he thinks that he ought not
8/to do. But he who gives away his own property
Tae ca.se (as Homer says that Glaucus gave to Diomede
o aucus. «golden arms for brazen, the price of a hundred
oxen for the price of nine")hh is not injured, for the
act of giving is in his own power ;A>ut being injured
is not in a man's own power, but There must be an
injurer. With respect to being Injured, therefore,
it is plain that it is not voluntary^/

9. Of the questions we proposed, two yet remain to
Whether be discussed : first, whether he who has awarded
the giver or the larger share contrary to right valuation, or he
injuresC;1Ver wll° ^as. ^ commits the injury; secondly, whe-
and whether ther it is possible for a man to injure himself;
a man by for, if the truth of the first question be possible,
awarding and it is the distributor, and not he who gets

to°himself t0° &reat a sliare> tlien> a man knowingly and
injures ^ voluntarily gives to another a greater share than
himself. / to himself, this man injures himself; and moderate
10. men seem to do this, , for tW-equitable man is apt
! to take too small a share. ( Or is it that this is
i never absolutely the case K for perhaps he got
j more of some other goo,d, as of reputation, or of
| the abstract honourable,/ Besides,-4he difficulty is

] solved by the definition of the......ter-m-^-aeting un-

\ justl^^fftf lie suffers nothing against, his wisfr yaa ■

kh u por DiomeJe'g brass arms, of mean device,

For which nine oxen paid (a vulgar price),

He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought,

A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought.''

Pope's Horn. II. vi, 292.^chap. ix.]	ETHICS.	143

thafcfor this reason at least he is not injured, but
if

Moreover, it is clear that the distributor, and not n.
he^&Kgets.±^o m^h-j-aets unjustfy j for he-does not The ques-
act i^xmt^tp^^|om ^he-abstraet unjust ^attaches,tion an"
bi3^e"ttr whom attaches the acting voluntarily; and swel 3(*"
the ydto%|3^ps~a&tScEes to him in whojn is the
origiSr$f~^^	this case is in the dis-

tributor, and not "in the' receiver. Again, since the 12.
expression " to do a thing" is used in many senses,

and in one sense inanimate things, and the hand,

and a slave at his master's bidding, may kill; the
doer in these cases does not act unjustly, but does
Unjust things. Again, if a man decided through 13.
ignorance, he is not 'unjust according to the legal
idea, nor is his decision unjust; but it is in some
sense unjust, for there is a difference between legal
and abstract justice. But if he has knowingly made
an unjust decision, he himself gets some advantage,

either in the way of favour or of revenge. The case 14.

is just the same if a man participates in an act of
injustice, and he who from such participation passes
an unjust judgment is considered to be a gainer;

for, even in the other cases, he who adjudged the
field did not get the field, but money.

But men suppose, that to act unjustly is in their 15. Whe- /
own power, and for this reason they think that to ther it be/
act justly is also easy. But this is not the case; £as7 to /
for to have connection with a neighbour's wife, and eju§ \j
to assault a neighbour, and to give away money with
one's hand, is easy, and in one's own power; but to
do this with a particular disposition is neither easy
nor in one's own power. In like manner, men think 16*

that there is no wisdom in knowing things just and
things unjust, because it is not difficult to com-
prehend the cases of which the laws speak ; but
these are not just acts except accidentally—when,

indeed, they are done in a certain manner, and
distributed in a certain manner, they become just.

But this is a more laborious thing than to know
what things are wholesome, since even in that144

ARISTOTLE'S

[book v,

sort of knowledge it is easy to know honey, wine,
and hellebore, and burning and cutting; but to know
how to apply them for the purposes of health, and
to whom, and at what time, is as difficult as to be
a physician.

17. For this very same reason it is supposed that
Erroneous acting unjustly belongs to the just man as much
views. ag ac£jng justly, because the just man would be
no less, or rather more able to do each of these
things ; for he might have connection with a woman,
and commit an assault, and the brave man might
.throw away his shield and turn and run away.

18/But it is not merely doing these things (except
/ accidentally), but doing them with a particular dis-
" position, that constitutes the being a coward or an
unjust man , just as it is not performing or not per-
forming an operation, nor giving or not giving
medicine, that constitutes medical treatment or
healing, but doing it in this particular way. But
just acts are conversant with the case of those who
participate in things absolutely good,11 and who can
have of these too much or too little; for some
beings perhaps cannot possibly have too much, as,
for example, the gods perhaps; to others, again, no
part of them is useful, but all injurious, as to those
who are incurably wicked; others, again, are bene-
fited to a certain extent; for which reason justice is
conversant with man/

CHAP. X.

Of Equity, and, the Equitable Man.kk

1. The next thing to speak of is the subject of " the
Equity equitable " and equity, and the relation that the

differ18^6 " ^irX&g ayaOa, are not only mental goods, but also riches,
honours, and all things instrumental to virtue, which are in
themselves absolutely good, but become evil by the abuse of
them.—Michelet.

kk On the subject of equity see also Rhet. I. xiii.CHAP. X.]

ETHICS.

145

equitable bears to the just, and equity to justice;

for when we examine the subject, they do not seem
to be absolutely the same, nor yet generally different.

And we sometimes praise " the equitable," and the
man of that character ; so that we even transfer the
expression, for the purpose of praise, to other cases,

showing by the use of the term " equitable" instead
of " good," that equity is better. Sometimes, again, if 2.
we attend, to the definition, it appears absurd that
equity should be praiseworthy, when it is something
different from justice for either justice must be not
good, or equity must be not just, that is, if it is x<
different from justice; or, if they are both good,

they must be both the same.

From these considerations, then, almost entirely 3.

a&ises the difficulty on the subject of the equitable. They are not
/But all of them are in one sense true and not incon- °PPose<*.
Vistent with each other; for " the equitable " is just, tlie/differ.
being better than a certain kind of "justand it is
not better than " the just," as though it were of a
different genus. Just and equitable, therefore, are 1.
identical j^and both being good, " the equitable " is
the better, j The cause of the ambiguity is this, that *
" the equitable " is just, but not that justice which is /
according to law, but the correction of the legally ^

just. And the-reason of this J.s, that law is in all
cases .universal, and on some subjects it is ^-not pos-
sible to speak uiiiversally with correctness, tin those 5.

bases where it is" necessary to speak universally, but
impossible to do so correctly, the law takes the most
general case, though it is well aware of the incor-
rectness of it. And the law is not, therefore, less
right; for the fault is not in the law, nor in the
legislator, but in the nature of the thing; for the
subject-matter of human actions is altogether of this
description.

When, therefore, the law speaks universally, and &»
something happens different from the generality of
cases, then it is proper that where the legislator
falls short, and has erred, from speaking generallv
to correct the defect, as the legislator would himself

L146

ARISTOTLE'S

[book v,

direct if lie were then present, or as he woujd have
legislated if he had been aware of the case, / There-
fore the equitable is just, and better than some kind
of "just;" not indeed better than the "absolute
just," but better th^n the error which arises from
*	universal enactments

7.	And this is the nature of "the equitable," that
The use of ft is a correction of law, wherever it is defective
equity. owing to its universality. This is-the -reason why

all things are not according to law, because on some
'' subjects it is impossible to make a law. So that
there is need of a special decree : for the rule of
what is indeterminate, is itself indeterminate also ;
like the'leaden rule in Lesbian building;11 for
the rule is altered to suit the shape of the stone,
and does not remain the same; so do decrees differ

8.|according	to the circumstances. It is clear, there-
| fore, what " the equitable " is, and that it is just,

'ETtieiKm I and also to what "just" it is superior. And from
defined. \j this it is clear what is the character of the equitable
man ; for he who is apt to do these/tilings and to
do them from deliberate preference/ who does not
push the letter of the law to the mrthest on the
worst side,mm but is disposed to make- allowances,
even although he has the law in liisk. favour, is
equitable ; and this habit is equity, beingxa kind of
justice, and not a different habit from justice.

CHAP. XI.

That no Man injures himself.

1. But the answer to the question, whether a man is
Whether a able to injure himself or not, is clear from what has
man can

11 Michael Ephesius says,—" The Lesbians did not build
with stones, arranged so as to form a plane surface, but
alternately projecting and retiring."—Michelet. See also,
Rhet. I. i.

mm This is the meaning of the well-known proverb,—
" Summum jus gumma injuria."chap. xi.3	ETHICS.	147

been already said. i For one class of tiings just injure him*
is that which is enjoined by law, according to virtue,

in the universal acceptation of the term ; as, for ^US"
example, it does not command a man to kill him-
self ; and whatever it does not command, it forbids.

Again, whenever a man does hurt contrary to la^, 2.
provided it be not in retaliation, he voluntarily
injures: and he acts voluntarily who /knows the
person, the instrument, and the manner. (But he who An ob-
kills himself through rage voluntarily does a thing jection
contrary to right reason, which the law does not answered.
allow. He therefore commits injustice, but against
whom1? is it against the state, and not against
himself? for he suffers voluntarily; arid a person
cannot be injured with his own consent. \Therefore,

also, the state punishes him, and there-is a kind of
disgrace attached to the suicide, as acting unjustly
towards the state. Again, in that kind of injustice 3.
according to which he who only acts unjustly, and Why a
not he who is entirely wicked, is called unjust, it ^r^him*"
is impossible for,a man to injure himself; for this jnim~
kind is different from the other ; for he who is particular
in this sense unjust, is in some sort wicked, like justice,
the coward; not as being wicked in the fullest
sense of the term. So that he does not injure him-
self even in this way ; for if he did, it would be
possible that the same thing should be taken from
and given to the same person ; but this is impossi-
ble ; but the just and the unjust must always imply
the existence of more persons than one. Again, an 4.

injury must be voluntary, proceeding from delibe-
rate preference, and the first of two hurts; for he

nn The Greeks recognized the principle that it was the duty
of their state to support the sanctions of virtue by legislative
enactments ; the moral education of the people formed part of
the legislative system. Hence the rule which Aristotle states,

u Quae lex non jubet vetat." The principles of our law, o\\
the contrary, are derived from the Roman law, which confines
itself in all cases to forbidding wrongs done to society. Hence
the rule with us is exactly the contrary, u Quae lex non vet&t
permittit."—See Michelet's Notes, p. 195.148

AitlSTOTLiS"S

[BOOK V,

who retaliates because he- has suffered, and inflicts
/ the very same hurt which he suffered, does not seem
I to act unjustly; but he who injures himself is at
\ once and in the same matter both agent and patient.
5*\A.gain, if this were the case, it would be possible to
be voluntarily injured. And besides, no one acts
unjustly without committing particular acts of in-
justice ; but no man commits adultery with his own
wife, nor breaks into his own house, nor steals his
own property. But the question of injuring one's
self is finally settled, by the decision we made on
the subject of being voluntarily injured/

6. It is also plain, that both to be injured and to

iTb^worse 1116 are > ^or one imP^es having less, the
to commit °^er having more, than the mean ; and the case is
or to re- like that of the wholesome in the science of medi-
ceive an cine, and that which is productive of a good habit
injury. 0f koc[y in gymnastics. But yet to injure is the

' w&rse ofthe twoj......for.. ..to- inji^edBSd^Qlvfes-^^a^ty,

.and is culpable,; and either perfect -and absolute
depra^jyf or sometMnglike. it; for not every volun-
/ taiy' act is necessarily joined with injustice; but
% / to suffer injustice is unconnected with depravity and
\j injustice; Absolutely, then, to suffer injustice is
less bad, but there is no reason why it should not
8* accidentally be worse. But science cannot take
notice of this ; for science calls a pleurisy a worse
disorder than a bruise from a fall; and yet the
contrary might accidentally be the case, if it should
happen that the man bruised was, owing to his
fall, taken prisoner by the enemy, and put to
death. But, metaphorically speaking, and accord-
ing to some resemblance, there is a kird of "just,"
not, indeed, between a man and himself, but be-
tween certain parts of himself: but it is not " just"
in the universal acceptation of the term, but such
as belongs to a master or head of a family; for
the rational part of the soul has this relation to
6w the irrational part. Now, looking to these points,
it seems that there is some injustice towards one'sCHAP. XI.]

.ETHICS.

149

self, because it is possible, 'in these eases, to suffer
something contrary to one's own desires. Precisely,
therefore, as there is some kind of " tast" between
the governor and the governed, m there is between
these parts of the soul also. "With respect to jus-
tice, therefore, and the rest of the moral virtuea
let the distinctions drawn be considered sufficient. )150

BOOK VI.

CHAP. I.

That it is necessary to define right Reason.*

!• But since we happen to have already said that we
Right rea-	to choose the mean, and not the excess or de-

tfidered."	i an(^ since the mean is as right reason L deter-

2. mines, let us discuss this point. In all the habits
Joined with already mentioned, just as in everything else, there is
virtues a cer^a^n mark which he who possesses reason looks at,
sometimes slackening, at others making more intense
his gaze; and there is a definite boundary of the mean
states, which we assert to be between the excess and
the defect, and to be in obedience to right reason.

3* But this statement, although it is true, is by no
discover t0 means clear j f°r in all other studies which are the
what it is. subjects of science, it is quite true to say, that we
ought not to labour too much or too little, nor to be

a Aristotle does not attempt to analyze ail the intellectual
virtues, nor indeed is this to be expected in a treatise which is
practical rather than theoretical,—ethical, and not meta-
physical. The proper place for the consideration of these is
his treatise " de Anima.";, His great object in this book is to
ascertain the connection between the intellectual and moral
, virtues.

b Right reason (o opQog \oyog) is that faculty of the soul
which takes cognizance of truth and falsehood, both moral and
scientific. All the virtues, therefore, both moral and intel-
lectual, will be joined with right reason; the moral virtues
being joined with right reason on practical subjects, which is
the same as prudence ((ppoi'rjffig). The superiority of
Aristotle's system in a practical point of view over that of
Plato and Socrates, is clear from the following consideration,
amongst others, that the latter thought all the virtues
" sciences," and Xoyoi, whereas Aristotle held them all to
be according to " reason" (Xoyov), and the moral 7irtues to
be according to " reason on practical subjects."CHAP. I.]

ETHICS.

15i

idle too much or too little, but in the mean, and
according to the direction of right reason ; yet he
who only knows this would not possess any more
of the knowledge which he requires ; he would not,
for instance, know what applications ought to be
made to the b^dy, if a person were to tell him, that
they are those which the science of medicine orders,
and which the person acquainted with that science
makes use of. Hence, it is necessary with respect to i,
the habits of the soul also, not only that this should
be stated truly, but that it should also be determined
what right reason is, and what is the definition of it.

Now, we made a division of the virtues of the soul, virtues m
and said that part of them belonged to the moral cha- the soul,
racter, and part to the intellect. The moral virtues, are —
we have thoroughly discussed; but let us in the
same manner discuss the remainder, after having iectual.
first spoken about the soul.

There were before said to be two parts of the Parts of

soul,—the rational and the irrational; but now we the sou1'

must make the same kind of division in the case of Rational —

the rational part; and let it first be laid down, that irrational.

there are two divisions of the rational part; one, Rational

by which we contemplate those existing things, the subdivided

principles of which are in necessary matter ; the1,nt0~_

other, by which we contemplate those, the principles of

which are contingent. For for the contemplation of which is

objects which differ in kind there are corresponding conver-

parts of the soul differing in kind also, and naturally sant with

necessarv

adapted to each; if it is from a kind of resemblance matter.
and affinity that they obtain the knowledge of Aoyian-
them. Let one of these be called the scientific, which
and the other the reasoning part ;c for deliberating ^nt with"

i.	, . , , ✓ % / „	, contingent

c In this division of the rational soul ( Aoyov e%o^ Kvpiojg matter.
Kal sv avrijf) into two parts, the scientific (kTCiarniioviKov)
and reasoning (XoyicrriKov), it must not be forgotten that
" reason " is used in its limited sense ; namely, that it is re-
stricted to the faculty which takes cognizance of moral truth,

and is synonymous with deliberation.—See Book I. xiii. ; also
Arist. de Anima, iii. 9> s. 3. The faculty by which the mind
contemplates eternal and immutable matter, tfte scientific part
ikiri(jtriiiovvx6v), or vovq, is termed in German, Vernunft j152

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vi.

and reasoning are equivalent. But no person deli-
berates upon necessary matter; so that the reasoning
part must be one division of tlie rational part. We
must therefore ascertain which habit is the best of
each of these two parts ; for this is the virtue of
each; but the virtue has reference to its peculiar
work.d

CHAP. II.

That Truth is the peculiar work of all Intellect.

Now, there are three principles in the soul which
^re® , have power over moral action and truth : Sensa-
Kvpia rrjg	Intellect,e and Appetite ; but of these, sensa-

7rp&Zewg. tion is the principle of no moral action; and this is
ALdOrjaig. clear from the fact that beasts possess sensation,
hut do not participate in moral action. But pur-
l£>* suit and avoidance in appetite are precisely what
2* affirmation and denial are in intellects So that
J™)!; ofthe ™ce moral virtue is a habit together with deli-
XoyujTLKov berate preference, and deliberate preference is ap-
uepog. petite, together with deliberation, it is necessary, for
these reasons, that the reasoning process be true,

that which contemplates contingent matter (to Xoyurrucbp), or
diavoia, is Verstand.—See Michelet.

d Genus is ascertained by considering the matter on which
each art, &c. is employed: this the schoolmen called subjec-
tum materiale,—v\r). The differentia by considering its effect
or object; this is the subjectum formale. Truth, therefore, is
the subjectum formale, or object-matter ; necessary or contin-
gent matter the subjectum materiale, or subject-matter.—See
Brewer, p. 221.

e The word in the original* which is here translated " intel-
lect, " is voug, and is used in its most comprehensive sense;
not in the limited sense in which it is used in chapter vi.
By sensation '(aifjOrjcig) is meant the perception of the ex-
ternal senses.

f The Greek word is diavoia, which properly meaiis
" the movement of the intellect (vovg) onward in the inves-
tigation of truth ; " but here, as in some other places, it if
used loosely as synonymous with vovq..CHAP. II. j

ETHICS,

153

and the appetite correct, if the deliberate preference
is good j and that the one affirm, and the other
pursue, the same things. This intellect, therefore,

and this truth are practical.

Of the intellect, which is contemplative, and not 3.
practical, or productive ; truth and falsehood con- And of the
stitute the goodness and the badness ; for this is 87rd°Tr)fio-
the work of every intellectual faculty; but ofVIK0V'
that part of it which is both practical and intel-
lectual, truth, which is in agreement with right
desire.

The deliberate preference, therefore, by which we 4.
are moved to act, and not the object for the sake of
which we act, is the principle of action; and desire
and reason, which is for the sake of something, is
the origin of deliberate preference ; hence deliberate
preference does not exist without intellect and
reason, nor without moral habit; for a good course
of action and its contrary cannot exist without in-
tellect and moral character.

Intellect of itself is not the motive principle of 5,
any action, but only that intellect which is for the
something, and is practical; for this governs the
intellect which produces also ; for every person that
makes anything, makes it for the sake of some-
thing ; and the thing made is not an end abso-
lutely, but it has reference to something, and
belongs to some one : but this is not the case with
the thing practised; for excellence of action is the
end, and appetite is for this. Wherefore deliberate 6.
preference is either intellect influenced by appetite,
or appetite influenced by intellect; and such a prin-
ciple is man. But nothing past is the object of Man the
deliberate preference; as no one deliberately prefers origin of
that Troy should have been destroyed ; for a man own

artionq

does not deliberate about what has happened, but
what is future and contingent. But what is past
does not admit of being undone; therefore Aga-
thon rightly says, " Of this alone even God is tie
prived, the power of making things that are past154

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vi.

7, never to have been."? Truth, therefore, is the work
of both the intellectual parts of the soul; and those
habits by which each part will best arrive at truth
must be the virtues of them both.

CHAP; III.

Five Intellectual Virtues, and Science in particular*

1.	Begiiotng, therefore, from the commencement, lot us
There are speak of these things again. Let the habits, there-
b^which8 ^orej ky which the soul arrives at truth by affirm-
the soul ation, or denial, be five in number ;h and these are
arrives at«T Art, Science, Prudence, Wisdom, and Intuition ; for
truth. > it is possible to be deceived by supposition and

( opinion. Now, the nature of science is evident
from this consideration (if it is necessary to speak
accurately, and not to be led by resemblances), that
we all suppose, that what we know scientifically is
necessary matter.

2.	But contingent matter, as soon as it is beyond the
province of contemplation, may exist or not, with-
er Non tamen irritum

Quodcunque retro est, efficiet; neque
Diffinget infectumque reddet,

Quod fugiens semel hora vexit.—Hor.

h The five habits here spoken of have been arranged by
Brewer, as follows, according to the kind of truth which each
has for its object. See on this and other points connected
with this part of the subject, his able introduction to the
Ethics, Book V.

Abstract truth. Practical or moral Truth with
|	truth.	production.

Contin
gent matter
defined.

Principles. Deductions from
principles.

1. vovg. 2. £7rtcrr?7,a^. 3. (ppovrjffig,

. rexvri.

These united make up
5. aofy'ta.CHAP. IV.]

ETHICS.

155

out our being aware of it. The subject of science,

therefore, has a necessary existence ; therefore, it is 'Ettkjtyjm
eternal; for things that absolutely1 exist from ne- is conver-
cessity, are all eternal, and things eternal are both sant with
uncreated and indestructible. Again, all science is jitter"'*
thought to be taught, and the subject of science to 3^ er*
' be acquired by learning. But all learning is derived ^

from things previously known, as we also stated in Z
the Analytics ; and is derived partly from induction, 4
and partly from syllogism. Now, induction is the &-Q& is af.
origin of the universal; but a syllogism is deduced fected by
from universale There are, therefore, some princi- syllogism
pies, from which a syllogism is deduced, which are ^mduc
not themselves syllogistically established, they are 10n'
therefore established by induction.5 Science, there- 4.

fore, i$ a demonstrative habit, and to this definition"'Etrtorr^
we must add the other parts, which we have given defined,
in the Analytics ; for whenever a man is convinced
of anything, and the principles are known to him,

he knows it scientifically; for unless he knows tlie>
principles even better than the conclusion, he will
. only possess science accidentally. Let science, there-
fore, have been defined after this manner.

CHAP. IV.

Of Art.

Of contingent matter, one species is that which is 1.

made, and the other that which is practised. Now Difference

making and practice differ from each other ; but {Letween
.	.	lLoirjcrig

_1 There are, according to Aristotle, two kinds of necessity,— asi&irpa!£tJQ,
absolute (a7r\wg) and hypothetical (l£ v7roQkaE(oc). The for-
mer is in its own nature immutable and eternal, the latter only
conditionally so ; as. for instance, to use the illustration of
Eustathius, a man is of necessity sitting so long as he is sitting.

—Brewer.

^ By the observation of a number of particular facts we
arrive at a universal principle, which can be used as one of
the premisses of a syllogism. This process is induction.—See
Arist. Rhet. Book I. c. i. ; also Whateley's Logic.ARISTOTLE'S

[buok VI

tliese points have been proved in our exoteric dis-
courses : so tliat the practical habit, together with
reason, differs from the productive habit together
with reason : nor are they included one under the
other : for neither is practice making, nor making

2.	practice. But since house-building is an art, and
the same thing as a habit of making joined with
reason, and there is no art which is not a habit of
making joined with reason, nor any such habit
which is not an art, an art and a habit of making
joined, with reason must Le one and the same thing.

3.	All art is conversant with three processes,—Pro-
Art is con- duction, Contrivance, and Contemplation; in order
versantwith that something may be produced, the existence and
rlxv&Zeiv non*exis"tence °f which are contingent, and the
yevscrig. ' principle of which is in the doer, and not in the

thing done ; for art is not concerned with things
that exist or originate necessarily or naturally; for

4.	these things have their origin in themselves. But
/ since making and practice are different things, it is
) necessary that art should relate to making, and not
( to practice. And in some sense chance and art are
( conversant with the same subjects, as Agathon also

says, "Art loves chance, and chance loves art."k
Art defined. Art, therefore, as has been said, is a certain habit
of making joined with true reason ; and absence of
art, on the contrary, is a habit of making joined
WTfch false reason, in contingent matter.

CHAP. Y.

Of Prudence, or moral Wisdom.

1. We should best understand the subject of prudence
The cha- if we were first to consider whom we call pru
racteristics dent. Now it seems to be the mark of the prudenl

m<ppomixoQ,	*■

k Art and chance are concerned with the same subject*
matter, and so closely connected are they, that it is a well-
known fact that many of the most important discoveries ir,
.lie arts have originated in accident.CHAP. V ,]

ETHICS.

157

mail to lie able to deliberate well respecting what is
good and expedient for himself; not in particular
instances, as what sort of things are good for his
health or strength, bat what is good and expedient
fo? living well. And a sign of this is, that we call
men prudent on any particular subject, when they
reason well, with a view to obtain some good end,
in subjects where art is not concerned. (So that
generally he who is apt to deliberate, is prudent.,

But no one deliberates about things that cannot 2.

possibly be otherwise than they are, nor about things Difference
which do not admit of being done by himself. So between
that if science is with demonstration, and there is
no demonstration in matters the premises of which kirKTrrjur].
are contingent (for such conclusions must all be
contingent likewise), and it is not possible to deli-
berate on necessary matter,1 then prudence cannot
be science, or art: it is not science, because the sub-
ject-matter of moral action is contingent; it is not
art, because the nature of practice differs from that of
making. It remains, therefore, that it is a true habit 3.

joined with reason, which is practical on the subjects
of human good and evil; for the end of making is
something different from this,111 but the end of
practice is not; for goodness of practice is itself the
end.

For this reason we think Pericles, and those 4.

like him, prudent men, because they were able to Illustration,
perceive what was good for themselves, and for
mankind ; and we think that this is the character
of those who understand oeconomics and politics.

Hence likewise we give to temperance its appella- Nominal
Hon (T(i)(j)po(rvprj, as preserving jDrudence ;n for it pre- definition of

<TO)<f>pO(TVPtl

1 I have followed the text of Bekker, in enclosing the second
clause in the parenthesis; Michelet, however, considers that
this ought not to be the case.

m The end of TroirjcriQ is the thing made, the end of irpa^ig
is to gain skill, and to acquire the habit of making.

n This derivation is given by Plato in the Cratylus, § 62.

There are few truths more self-evident or more important
than this, that temperance and virtue have a tendency to pre-
serve, whilst intemperance and vice inevitably pervert and158

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vi,

serves moral ideas : for the pleasant and the painful
do not destroy or pervert all ideas ; for instance,
tliat a triangle has or has not its interior angles
equa. to two right a&gles, but only the ideas which
relate to moral conduct. Now the motives of moral
ranee*1*6" conc^uc'fc are tiie principles of moral conduct; but
destroys	w-^° ^ias heen corrupted through pleasure,

tpoovqais, or pain, the principle will immediately be invisible,
but not and the knowledge that he ought to choose and
ETnarrjixr].	eveiytbiiig for the sake and on account of this ;

®povri<TLQ f0r yice has a tendency to destroy the principle.

6 ne (So that it necessarily follows that prudence is a true
habit joined with reason, practical on the subject
of human goods.

6. Moreover there a.ro degrees of excellence in art,
Why it dif- not in prudence. And in art, he who volun-

rprs from	*

rkxrn. Warily errs is the better man f but in prudence he
is worse, just as is the case in the virtues; it is
v. J plain, therefore, that it is a virtue, and that it is not
j ' art. And since there are two parts of the soul which
u have reason, it must be the virtue of one ; namely,
I the part which forms opinions :P for both opinion

destroy the moral sense, and the knowledge of the principles
of right and wrong. Although, owing to the intimate and
close connection between the mind and the body, vicious in-
dulgence of the passions will sometimes weaken the intellectual
powers; yet it will not deprave and distort the power of
apprehending scientific truth ; and there is no impossibility in
a vicious man being a good mathematician. But vice will
inevitably and certainly destroy the moral judgment, and make
us think evil good, and good evil. As in the case of revealed
truth, a blessing is promised to obedience to that law of virtue
under which we are born :—" He that doeth my will shall
know of the" doctrine whether it be of God so in the case of
moral truth, the heart is to the way to the understanding.

° See Seneca's Epistles, xv. " Vis scire quam dissimilis
sit aliarum artium conditio et hujus ? In illas excusatius est
voluntate peccare quam casu : in hac maxima culpa est sponte
delinquere. Quod dico tale est. Grammaticus noil erubescit
si solecismum sciens facit, erubescit si nesciens. At in hac
arte vivendi turpior volentium culpa est."

p This is the same part of the soul which Aristotle has
already called to Xoyicrnicov ; for when it is employed upon
contingent matter it arrives not at truth absolutely, but
opinion. Stability and permanence are characteristic ofCHAP. Tt.]

ETHICS.

359

and prudence take cognizance of contingent sub-/
jects. But yet it is not only a habit joined with(
reason : and a proof of this is, that there is a/
possibility of forgetting a habit of this kind, but no
possibility of forgetting prudence.

CHAP. YI.

Of Intuition.

But since science is a supposition, formed upon
universals, and on things necessarily existent, and l
there are principles of the subjects of demonstra- js tj€
tion, and of all science (for science is joined with habit mpi
reason), the habit which takes cognizance of the
principles of that which is the subject of science
cannot be science, or art, or prudence. For the
subject of science is capable of demonstration ; but
these two habits are conversant with contingent
matter. Consequently neither is wisdom conversant
with these ; for it is the part of the wise man to
have demonstration on some subjects. If, then, the 2#

means by which we arrive at truth, and are never
deceived on subjects immutable and contingent, are
science, prudence, wisdom, and intuition^ and it is
impossible to be any one of the first three, I mean
prudence, wisdom, and science ; it remains that in-
tuition must be the habit which takes cognizance of
the principles of science.

virtuous energies, as contrasted with those of science ; as our
virtuous principles are developed and called into action every
hour of our lives ; and hence we cannot forget them, as we
can the subjects of scientific knowledge.—See Book I. c. x.

i The following is Aristotle's definition in the Magna
Moralia (i. 35) of voug, which I have translated " Intuition
i. e. the habit which apprehends without any reasoning pro-
cess. 'O vovg sari irtpi rag apxag rwv vorjr&v Kai r&v
bvTiov* t) fiiv yap kiriGrij^ri rwv fier' airoddUitig ovtuv sari*

at df dpxai avairodeiKTUi.160

ARISTOTLE'S

[bcok VI.

CHAP. VII.

Of Wisdom.

1- But in the arts we attribute wisdom1 to those who
of two ^ ar3 mos^ accura"telj skilled in the arts : for example,
kinds : we ca^ Phidias a ^se worker in stone, and Polycli-
Universal. tus a wise statuary, in this use of the word, meaning
Particular, nothing more by wisdom than that it is the excel-
lence of art. But we think that some are universally
wise ; and not wise only in some particular art; as
Homer says in his Mar git e^s " Him the gods made
neither a digger, nor a ploughman, nor wise in any
other way."

2. So that it is clear that wisdom must be the
It is aicpL- most accurate of all the sciences. The wise man
fSttrrdrrj. must therefore not only know the facts which are
deduced from principles, but must also attain truth
Is com- respecting the principles themselves. So that wis-
posed of dom must be intuition and science together, and
v°vq and science of the most honourable subjects, having as
Sffersfro'm ^ were a head; for it is absurd if a person thinks
fpovflffig. political science, or prudence, the best thing pos-

r	in its particular application to the arts signifies

skill; in its general signification the term is used to express
the habit which apprehends both the principles of science and
the deductions derived from them by demonstrations ; for this
reason it is said to be composed of vovq and STrierr^jti??. The
following are instances given by Muretus of different applica-
tions of the word oocpia :—Homer (II. xv. 412) attributes to
a skilful shipbuilder iraaav cro<piav. Xenophon called skil-
fully-seasoned dishes aotyivfiara. Atheneeus applies the word
to musical skill; and hence Cicero says, in his Tusculan Dis-
putations (Book I.), " Summam eruditionem Grseci sitam
censebant in nervorum vocumque cantibus.'' The term was also
applied to poets. Thus Plato in the Phsedrus calls Anacreon
o Go<pbQy and Cicero in the oration for Milo calls poets
44 Homines sapientissimi."

8 Aristotle mentions the Margites of Homer in the Poetic,
§ 7 : besides the genuine poem, a spurious one appeared in
later times.CHAP. VII.]

ETHICS.

161

sible,* unless man is allowed to be the most excellent
of all created things. If, then, what is wholesome 3.
and. good is different in the case of a man and a
fish, but what is white, and straight, is always the
same ; all will allow, that wisdom is always the same,
but prudence different in different cases. For they
would say, that, considering every point well with a
view to sel£ is prudent, and to prudence they would
commit the decision of these matters. Hence men
say that some brutes even are prudent; and from
all, namely, which appear to have a faculty of pro-
viding for their own sustenance. But it is plain 4.

that wisdom and the science of social life cannot The scienai
be the same : for if men will call that wisdom ^soc*ai
which refers to what is expedient for themselves,

there will be many kinds of wisdom : for there
is not one single one which takes cognizance of
the good of all animals, but a different one for
each : unless, indeed, there is but one medical treat-
ment for beings of all kinds. But if it be said 5.

that man is the best of all living creatures, it makes
no difference; for there are other things of a much
more divine nature than man : to take, for instance,

those which are most plainly so, the elements of
which the world is composed. From what has been
said, therefore, it is clear that wisdom is science and
intuition -united, -upon subjects the most honourable
by nature.

1 As Socrates held the virtues to be sciences, and Plato
taught that (j>p6vr)<TLQ was the contemplation of the iUa, it
became necessary that Aristotle should carefully distinguish
aocpia and (ppovrjvi.g. He therefore tells us that the end of
the latter is practical truth, of the former theoretical truth ;

that the latter is conversant with particulars as well as univer-
sal, because in all moral action the important part is the
practical application ; whereas the former is conversant with
universals only. The practical application he calls afterwards
(c. viii.) the extreme (to f'cr%arov), and (c. xi.) the minor
premiss. It has often been observed with truth, that the syl-
logistic process is confined to the conviction of the intellect,

but that in whatever cases we act as moral and rational beings,

we act upon a syllogism. In this we are distinguished from
the inferior animals, who act from instinct.162

ARISTOTLE'S

[book VI.

6.	For this reason men call Anaxagoras, and Thales,
ofAnax68 anc^ °^ers of this description, wise, but not pru-
agoras:and ^ent>	^ey see tiiat they are ignorant of what
Thales. is expedient for themselves. And they say that they

are acquainted with subjects which are superfluous,
and wonderful, and difficult, and divine, but yet use-,
less, because they do not study the subject of human
good. But prudence is concerned with human
affairs, and those subjects about which it is pos-
sible to deliberate. Tor this, that is, to deliberate
well, we say is the work of the prudent man espe-
cially.

7.	But no one deliberates about things which cannot
be otherwise than they are, nor about those of
which there is not some end, and this end a good
capable of being the subject of moral action. But
absolutely the good deliberator is he, who is skilful
in aiming at the best of the objects of human
action. Sfor yet "Vis prudence limited to universals
only, but it is necessary to have a knowledge of
particulars also : for prudence is practical, and prac-
tice turns upon particulars. Therefore some who
have no theoretical knowledge, are more practical
than others who have it; those, for example, who

3. derive their skill from experience. For if a man
should know that light meats are easy of digestion,
and are wholesome, without knowing what meats
are light, he will never produce health ; but he who
knows nothing more than that the flesh of birds is»
light and wholesome, will be more likely to produce
it. But prudence is practical, so that it is good
to have both, or if not both, it is better to hove
tltis. But there must be in prudence also some
m^ter virtue.CHAP. VIII.]

ETHICS.

163

CHAP. YIII.

Of the different parts of Prudence.

Now political prudence, and prudence, are the same l.

habit, yet their essence is not the same. But of Qpovqais

prudence which is conversant with the state, one and the .
v ■ •	i* r •	-i . -i n , science or

division, which is, as it were, a kind of master- social life

prudence, is legislative ; a second, which is parti- differ in
cular, is called by the common name political; but essence,
this is practical; for a decree, as being the last
thing, is the subject of action. Hence men say
that practical statesmen alone regulate the state;
for these alone act, like artificers.11 But the pru- ^

dence which refers to one's self and the individual Various
appears to be most properly prudence : and this species of
bears the common name of prudence. But of those
three divisions/ one is economical, the second legis-
lative, and the third political; and of this last
there are two sub-divisions, one the deliberative,
the other the judicial.

Now there must be a certain species of know- 3.

ledge, namely, the knowing what is good for one's
self; but on this question there is great difference

u Practical statesmen manage the detail, and therefore are
more properly saici to regulate the state, as a mason, properly
speaking, builds the house, and not the architect.

v <ppovr]<ji£

TTCpl aVTOV' OLKOVOfllKT].	7TSpl 7ToXlV

(Kvpicog)	|

VOfioOsriKf/	TToXlTlKr}

i. e. 7Tpa.KTlK7j%

(3ov\evriKrj, dlKCLGTlKTl;
The divisions of prudence may be denominated personal,
economical, legislative, administrative, executive.

M 2164

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vi.

of opinion; and lie who knows his own concerns,
and employs himself in them, is thought to be pru-
dent, but politicians appear busy-bodies. Therefore
Euripides says, " How can I be prudent, I who had
it in my power without trouble, by being numbered
among the multitude of the army, to share alike ?
For Zeus hates those who are busy-bodies, and do

4.	too much."w For men seek what is good to them-
selves, and think that this is what they ought to
do : from this opinion, therefore, arose the idea that
such people as these are prudent; and yet perhaps
it is not impossible to attain one's own good without
economical, nor without political prudence. But
still, it is an obscure subject, and one which requires
investigation, how one ought to manage one's own
affairs.

A young This is an evidence of the truth of what we have
man maybe that young men become geometricians and
but°not mathematicians, and wise in things of this kind;
ppovijxoQ. but it is thought that a young man cannot become

5.	prudent. The reason of this is, that prudence is
conversant with particulars, and the knowledge of
particulars is acquired by experience alone ; but a
young man is not experienced ; for length of time

6.	causes experience. One might study this question
also, why a child can become a mathematician, but
not wise, i e. a natural philosopher ?x Is it because
the former subjects are derived from abstraction,
whilst the principles of the latter are learnt from
experience 1 And the latter subjects young men
enunciate, though they are not persuaded of their
truth ; but the reality of the former is evident.
Again, errors in deliberation are either in the
universal, or the particular; for the error is, not
knowing, either that all heavy waters are bad,
or that this water is heavy.

w These lines are said to be taken from a lost tragedy of
Euripides, entitled " the Philoetetes."

x 2o(pog rj tyvGucbg in the original. It is clear, therefore,
that (pvaucoQ is the explanation of the preceding word
and that the two together denote one acquainted with natural
philosophy.CHAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

165

It is clear that prudence is not science; for 7.
prudence, as has been said, is of the extreme ; for 1>r)ldence
this is the subject of moral action. Prudence is No/intu^
therefore opposed to intuition : for intuition is of ition.
those principles respecting which there is no reason-
ing ; but prudence is of the extreme, of which there
is no science, but only perception, not that percep-
tion, which takes cognizance of particular objects,

but such perception a.s that by which we perceive
the extreme in mathematics, a triangle for instance ;

for it will stop there. But this is rather perception
than prudence; but still it is of a different kind
from sensual perception.y

CHAP. IX.

Of good Deliberation.

Investigation and deliberation differ, for delibera-1.

tion is a kind of investigation. But it is necessary Evfioi\ia
to ascertain the genus of good deliberation, whether *s not,
it is a kind of science, opinion, happy conjec- &7VL<JTr,^h
ture, or what not. ISTow it certainly is not
science ; for men do not investigate subjects which
they know ; but good deliberation is a kind of
deliberation; and he who deliberates investigates
and reasons. Nor yet is it happy conjecture; for 2.

this is something unconnected with reason, and Nor

<7 tovici*

* Prudence (<ppovrjcrig) is not science (sTricrrr/jix??), because
science is conversant with universals, whereas prudence is
conversant with particulars. These particulars are extremes
(tffxccra), since they are the last results at which we arrive
before we begin to act. The faculty which takes cognizance
of them is perception (aiadrjcrig) ; not the perception of the
five external senses, but that internal perception which is
analogous to them, and which is popularly called common sense.

Hence we can see the difference between prudence and intuition
(vovq) ; for the extremes of which intuition takes cognizance,

are the first undemonstrable principles {apxah npwroi opot),

such as the axioms,definitions, &c. in mathematical science.
The intuition {vovq), therefore, here spoken of, is the pure
intellectual intuition, not practical or moral intuition.16b

ARISTOTLE'S

[BOOK VI

quick ; but we deliberate for a long time, and
say, that it is right to execute quickly what we
have resolved upon, but to deliberate slowly.2
Again, sagacityaa is a different thing from good deli-
beration ; and sagacity is a kind of happiness of

3.	conjecture. Therefore no kind of good deliberation
it is an is opinion. Now since he who deliberates badly,
Sp96rrjg, errs^ font he who deliberates well, deliberates cor-
?ot °f, rectly, it is plain, that good deliberation is a kind
Nor oT >?' °"^ correc^ness- is not correctness either of science
$6%a, or opinion (for there is no correctness of

science, because there is no error :) and truth is
the correctness of opinion ; besides, everything of
which there is opinion has been already defined.

4.	Still, however, good deliberation cannot be without
reason. It remains, therefore, that it is the correct-
ness of the intellect, moving onwards in the inves-
tigation of truth, i. e. dtavoici, for it is not yet an
assertion; but opinion is not investigation, but is
at once an assertion.cc But he who deliberates,
whether he does it well or ill, investigates something

But of and reasons. But good deliberation is a sort of cor-
fiovXrj. rectness of deliberation ; therefore we must inquire
what is the nature, and what the subject-matter, of
deliberation.

5.	Since the term correctness is used in more senses
'OpOorrjQ than one, it is plain that good deliberation is not
is used in -every kind of correctness; for the incontinent and
sensJs. depraved man will from reasoning arrive at that

which he proposes to himself to look to ; so that he
will have deliberated rightly, and yet have arrived at

z BovXevofiev fipadkiog, hrireksi da rax'^Q-—Isocrat.

In the later Analytics, i. 34, ay%ivoia is defined tvcrroxix
rig kv auKSTTTtj) xpovip tov fiscrov. A happy conjecture, with-
out previous consideration, of the middle term.

bb Good deliberation is (1) not a correctness of science
because there is no such thing as incorrectness of it; (2) it is
not a correctness of opinion (SoZa), because (a) the correctness
of doZ,a is truth ; because (b) doZct is an assertion (^atric;), and
not an investigation (^r^crtg).

cc Such I take to be the meaning of this difficult passage,
which has been so misunderstood by the majority of com-
mentators. See on diavoia, note, p. 145.3 HAP. X.]

ETHICS.

16>

great evil. Whereas good deliberation seems to be
a good thing; for good deliberation is only sucli a
correctness of deliberation as is likely to arrive at
good. But it is possible to arrive at even this by 6e
a false syllogism; and to be right as to what one
ought to do, but wrong as to the means, because
the middle term is false. So that even this kind of
deliberation, by which one arrives at a proper con-
clusion, but by improper means, is not quite good
deliberation. Again, it is possible for one man to 7
be right after deliberating for a long time, and
another man very soon. So that even this is not
quite good deliberation ; but good deliberation is
that correctness of deliberation, which is in accord-
ance with the principle of utility, which has a
proper object, employs proper means, and is in
operation during a proper length of time.

Again it is possible to deliberate well both abso- 8
lutely, and relatively to some specific end ; and that
i,S absolutely good deliberation which is correct with
reference to the absolutely good end, and that is a
specific kind of good deliberation which is correct
with reference to some specific end. If, therefore, 9.
to deliberate well is characteristic of prudent men, ^(3ov\i&
good deliberation must be a correctness of delibera- 6 ne *
tion, in accordance with the principle of expediency
having reference to the end, of which prudence is
the true conception.

CHAP. X.

Of Intelligence.

Intelligence, and the want of intelligence, according 1.
to which we call men intelligent, and wanting in in- ^vvsmg is
telligence, are neither universally the same as science
or opinion, for then all men would be intelligent; noi 86%a,
nor is intelligence any one of the particular sciences,
aa medicine is the science of things wholesome ; or168

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vi.

2.	as geometry is the science of magnitudes. Nor is
intelligence conversant with things eternal and im-
mutable, nor with everything indiscriminately which
comes to pass ; but it is conversant with those
things about which a man would doubt and delibe-

3.	rate. Wherefore it is conversant with the same
Its object- subjects as prudence, yet prudence and intelligence
matter. are not the game • f0r the province of prudence is

to order (for its end is what it is right to do, or
not to do) ; but the province of intelligence is only
to decide; for intelligence, and good intelligence,
are the same thing ; for intelligent people, and

4.	people of good intelligence, are the same. But
intelligence is neither the possessing, nor yet the
obtaining, of prudence ; but just as learning, when
it makes use of scientific knowledge, is called intel-
ligence, thus the word intelligence is also used when
a person makes use of opinion, for the purpose of
making a decision, and making a proper decision,
on the subjects of prudence, when another person
is speaking; for the terms well and properly are

5.	identical. And hence the name of intelligence, by

Whence. which we call intelligent people, was derived, namely,

the term from that intelligence which is displayed in learning:
derived •

since for the expression " to learn," we often use the
expression " to understand."

CHAP. XI.

Of Candour,

1. But that which is called candour, with reference to
which we call men candid, and say that they possess
candour, is the correct decision of the equitable
Vvwfjirj de- man.dd But this is a sign of it; for we say that the
fined. equitable man, above all others, is likely to entertain
a fellow-feeling, and that in some cases it is equit able

dd Intelligence is that faculty which forms a judgment oti
things ; candour that whicli judges of persons.CEaP, XI.]

ETHICS.

169

to entertain it. ."Now fellow-feeling is the correct SvyyvwM
discriminating candour of tlie equitable maa ; and defined,
that is correct which is the candour of the truthful
man. But all these habits reasonably tend to the 2.

same point; for we speak of candour, intelligence, Different
prudence, and perception, referring to the same	^

characters the possession of candour, of perception, t]ie sa^e
of prudence, and of intelligence; for all these facul- point.

ties are of the extremes, and of particulars. And
it is in being apt to decide on points on which the
prudent man decides, that intelligence, kind feel-
ing, and candour, are displayed. For equitable con-
siderations are common to all good men in their
intercourse with others. But all matters of moral
conduct are particulars and extremes; for the
prudent man ought to know them, and intelli-
gence and candour are concerned with matters of
moral conduct, and these are extremes.

Intuition is of the extremes on both sides ;ee for
intuition, and not reason, takes cognizance of the
first principles, and of the last results : that intu-
ition which belongs to demonstration takes cogni-
zance of the immutable and first principles ; that
which belongs to practical subjects takes cognizance

ee Intuition (vovg), as we have seen above, properly signi-
fies the faculty which takes cognizance of the first principles
of science. Aristotle here, whether analogically or considering
it a division of the same faculty, it is difficult to say, applies
the term to that power which we possess of apprehending the
principles of morals, of seeing what is right and wrong by ar
intuitive process, without the intervention of any reasoning
process. It is what Bishop Butler calls "our sense of dis-
cernment of actions as morally good or evil." In thi^ two-
fold use of the term vovq there is no real inconsistency, because
it is evidently, as Mr. Brewer says, p. 247, note, " the same
faculty, whether employed upon the first principles of science
or of morals." Every moral agent acts upon a motive (ou
svSKa), whether good or bad. This motive is, in other words,
the principle upon which we act, and is the major premiss of
the practical syllogism (vvWoyHJiiog rwv 7rpaKruiv). But
the minor premiss of the practical syllogism bears relation to
the major, of a particular to a universal; therefore as univer-
sal are made up of particulars, it follows that the origin
{apx*}) of the motive or principle is the minor premiss.170

ARISTOTLE'S

[book VI.

of the last result of contingent matters, and of the
Two kinds minor premiss; for these (i. e. minor premisses) are
of intuition, the origin of the motive ; for universals are made
AtcOrjuLg. up of particulars. Of these, therefore, it is neces-
sary to have perception ; and perception is intu-

5.	ition. Therefore these habits have been thought
to be natural; and although no man is naturally
wise (co0oc); he is thought to have candour, intelli-
gence, and intuition, naturally. A sign of this is,
that we think that these qualities naturally accom-
pany certain ages; and that one particular age
possesses perception and candour, as though nature
were the cause of it.ff

6.	Therefore intuition is at once the beginning and
the end; for demonstrations have extremes both

Attention for their origin and their subjects.So that we
toautho- ought to pay attention to the undemonstrated
nty-	sayings and opinions of persons who are experi-

enced, older than we are, and prudent, no less than
to their demonstrations ; for because they have ob-
tained from their experience an acuteness of moral
vision, they see correctly. "What, therefore, is the
nature of wisdom and of prudence, what the ob-
jects of both, and the fact that each is the virtue
of a different part of the soul, has been stated.

ff The meaning of this passage is as follows : It has been
held that a disposition to form a candid judgment of men and
things, an ability to comprehend and grasp the suggestions of
other minds, independently of the power of reasoning out con-
clusions for ourselves ; and, lastly, a moral sense of right and
wrong, by which we have a perception of the principles of
moral action, are natural gifts ; as a sign or evidence of
this, it has been observed that these faculties are more espe-
cially developed at particular periods of life, in the same
way that physical properties are. But <jo(pia, i.e. scientific
knowledge, which is based upon demonstration, and is in fact
a demonstrative habit, must for this reason be the result of an
active exercise of the perceptive and reasoning powers, and
therefore cannot be natural, but must be acquired.

se That is, demonstrations have for their origin and foun-
dation first principles, of which intuition takes cognizance, and
the object of demonstration is to arrive at conclusions which
come under the province of intuition likewise.CHAP. XII.J

ETHICS.

171

CHAP. XII.

On the utility of Wisdom and Prudence.

The question might be asked, how are these habits 1.

useful ? for wisdom does not contemplate any of Three ob-
■ the means by which, a man will become happy ; for th^^tilit °
it relates to no production. Prudence, indeed, has 0f
this property; yet with a view to wliat is there and <7o<pia.
any need of it, if it is the knowledge of the things First,
which are just, and honourable, and advantageous
to man, and these are what the good man practises h
But we are not at all the more apt to practise them 2.
because we know them, that is, if the virtues are
habits; just as we are not more apt to be healthy
from the knowledge of wholesome things, nor of
things likely to cause a good habit of body (that
is, the things which are so called not because they
cause the habit, but because they result from it)

for we are not at all more apt to put in practice
the arts of medicine or gymnastics, merely because
we know them.

But it may be said, if we must not call a man 3.
prudent on these grounds, but only for becoming Second,
virtuous, it would not be at all useful to those who
are already good ; again, it would not be useful to
those who do not possess prudence; for it will make
no difference to them whether they possess it them-
selves, or obey others who possess it; for it would
be quite sufficient for us, just as in the case of

hh This sentence which I have enclosed in a parenthesis is
intended to explain the sense in which Aristotle uses the terms
vyieiva and eveicruca. A passage in the Topios, I. xiii. 10,

illustrates this:—

f to fxev vyiuctQ ttoititikov. (1.)

vyieivov Xkyerai ro de ... (pvXaKTiicov. (2.)

[ ro de ... vrifiavTiKov. (3.)

Now as the symptoms or evidences of health are the results of
the healthy habit or condition, the sense in which the term is
aised here is the third.—See Chase's note, p. 225172

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vi.

health ; for when we wish to be well, we do not
Third. "begin to learn the art of medicine. But besides,
it would appear absurd, if, though it is inferioi
to wisdom, it is, nevertheless, to be superior to
it; for that which produces, always rules and
directs in each particular case. On these subjects,
therefore, we must speak, for hitherto we have only
raised questions about them.

4. First, then, let us assert, that wisdom and pru-
Answers to dence must be eligible for their own sakes, since
tions °b^ec" they are the virtues, one of each part of the
soul, even if neither of them produces any effect.
Secondly, they do really produce an effect, although
not in the same way as medicine produces health,
but as health is the efficient cause of healthiness,
so is wisdom the efficient cause of happiness; for
being part of virtue in the most comprehensive sense
of the term, it causes, by being possessed, and by
energizing, a man to be happy. Again, its work
will be accomplished by prudence and moral virtue;
for virtue makes the end and aim correct, and pru-
The use- dence the means. But of the fourth part of the
fulness ot	that is, the nutritive, there is no such virtue;

ippovrjaig. £or performa,nCe or non-performance of moral
action is not in any case in its power.

To answer the objection, that we* are not at all
more likely to practise honour and justice on
account of prudence, we must begin a little further
back, making this our commencement. Just as we
say that some who do just actions, are not yet
just; those, for instance, who do what is enjoined
by the laws involuntarily, or ignorantly, or for
some other cause, and not for its own sake, though
nevertheless they do what they ought and what a
good man ought to do ; in the same manner, it
seems, that a man must do all these things, being
at the same time of a certain disposition, in order
*o be good; I mean, for instance, from deliberate
preference, and for the sake of the acts themselves,
f. Virtue, therefore, makes the deliberate preference
correct; but it is not the part of virtue, but otCHAP. XII.]

ETHICS.

173

some other faculty, to direct aright those things
which must be done with a view to that principle.

But we must stop and tpeak on these subjects with
more clearness.

Now, there is a certain faculty which is called S.
cleverness; ^ the nature of which is to be able to
do, and to attain, those things which conduce to
the aim proposed. If, 8 therefore, the aim be good,
the cleverness is praiseworthy ; but if it be bad, it
becomes craft therefore we call prudent men clever,

and not crafty. ISTow prudence is not the same 9.

as this faculty, nor is it without this faculty. But It is not
the habit is produced upon this eye, as it were,

of the soul, not without virtue, as we have already
stated, and as is manifest. For the syllogisms of although'

n Cleverness (daivoTTjg) is, according to Aristotle, a natural
faculty, or aptness, which, in itself, is neither good nor bad ;

it may be either used or abused,—if abused, it is craft (7rav-
ovpyia). It is capable of being cultivated and improved,

and when perfected it becomes (pp6vt]<JiQ. As cleverness thus
perfected by the addition of moral virtue becomes prudence,

so natural virtue, with Aristotle, who believes that man is
endowed, becomes perfect virtue by the addition of prudence.

Not that Aristotle believed that man was capable of actually
attaining such a height of perfection: he evidently belie\ed
that it was beyond human power. It is the theoretical standaid
which he proposes to the Ethical student for him to aim at,

and to approach as near as his natural powers will permit him.

Thus, Revelation, whilst it teaches us the corruption of human
nature, bids us be perfect even as our Father which is in
heaven is perfect.

Aristotle's theory of the existence of natural virtue bears a
close resemblance to Bishop Butler's idea of the constitution
of human nature as laid down in his first three sermons and
the preface to them :—" Our nature is adapted to virtue as
much as the nature of a watch is adapted to measure time*

Nothing can possibly be more contrary to nature than vice.

Poverty and disgrace, tortures and death, are not so contrary
to it. Every man is naturally a law to himself, and may find
within himself the rule of right, and obligations to follow it."

jj The original word here translated craft is irav ovpyia. As
Seivorjjc, which signifies cleverness, generally is, when directed
to a good end, subject to the restrictions of sound and upright
moral principles ; so when these are removed, it degenerates
into iravovpyia, which signifies equal ability, but in addition,
an unscrupulous readiness to do everything whatever. Thi*

is implied in its etymology.174

ARISTOTLE'S

[book yi.

moral conduct have as their principle, i. e. their major
premiss : since such and such a tiling is tlie end
and tlie cliief good, i. e. anything. For let it be for
the sake of argument, anything ; but this is not
visible except to the good man ; for depravity dis-
torts, the moral vision, and causes it to be deceived
on the subject of moral principles. So that it is
clearly impossible for a person who is not good to
be prudent.

CHAP. XIII.

Of Virtue -proper.

1.

4s 0jOO-
urjvig is to

\lV0T7]Q,

60 is natural
virtue to
virtue
proper.

Difference

between

natural

virtue and

virtue

proper.

We must again investigate the subject of virtue. For
virtue admits of relation of the same kind as that
which prudence bears to cleverness ; that is, the
two kinds of virtue are not identically the same, but
similar ; such is the relation which exists between
natural virtue and virtue proper. For all men
think bhat each of the points of moral character
exists in us in some manner naturally; for we possess
justice, temperance, valour, and the other virtues,
immediately from our birth. But yet we are in
search of something different, namely, to be pro-
perly virtuous, and that these virtues should exist
in us in a different manner ; for natural habits
exist in children and brutes, but without intellect
they are evidently hurtful. Yet so much as this is
evident to the senses, that as a strong body which
moves without sight meets with great falls, from
the want of sight, so it is in the present instance ;
but if it gets the addition of intellect, it acts much
better. Now the case of the habit is similar, and
under similar circumstances will be properly virtue.
So that, as in the case of tlie faculty which forms
opinions, there are two forms, cleverness and pru-
dence; so in the moral there are likewise two,
natural virtue and virtue proper; and of these,
virtue proper is not produced without prudence.CHAP< XIII.]

ETHICS.

175

Therefore it has been said that all the virtues 3.
iwe prudences. And Socrates, in one part was right
in his inquiry, but in the other wrong. For in
that he thought that all the virtues are prudences,

he was 'wrong; but in that he said that they are
not without prudence, he was right. And this is
a sign ; for now all men, when they define virtue,

add also that it is a habit, according to right reason,

stating also to what things it has reference ; now
that is right reason which is according to prudence.

All men, therefore, seem in some way to testify 4.

that such a habit as is according to prudence, is
virtue. But it is necessary to make a slight change ; Virtue, 11 yl
for virtue is not only the habit according to, but in °nly Ka\
conjunction with, right reason; and prudence is the
same as right reason on these subjects. Socrates, dpOoi
therefore, thought that the virtues were " reasons,7' Xoyov.
i. e. reasoning processes ; for he thought them all Socrates'
sciences : but we think them joined with reason. opimon.

It is clear, therefore, from what has been said, 5.

that it is impossible to be properly virtuous with- Prudence
out prudence, or prudent without moral virtue,

Moreover, the argument by which it might be separable",
urged that the virtues are separate from each This is true
other, may in this way be refuted, for (they say) of virtue
the same man is not in the highest degree naturally
adapted for all : so that he will have got one al- turalvirtue
ready, and another not yet. Now this is possible in
the case of the natural virtues ; but in the case of
those from the possession of which a man is called
absolutely good, it is impossible ; for with prudence,

which is one, they will all exist together.kk It is 0.

kk This view of the practical nature of (ppovrjaig, and of its>

being inseparable from moral virtue, so that if a man possesses
perfect prudence, it develops itself in perfect obedience to the
moral law ; and the perfection of the one implies the perfection
of the other also, is analogous to the relation which exists be-
tween faith and obedience in Christian ethics. A living faith
necessarily brings forth good works, and by them a living faith
is as evidently known as a tree is discerned by its fruits. He?

therefore, who possesses true faith possesses all virtue ; and in
proportion to the imperfection of obedience is the imperfection
cf faith.176

AR. STOTLE'S ETHICS. [book vi

<;lear, too, even if prudence were not practical, there
would be need of it, because it is the virtue of one
part of the sou], and because the deliberate pre-
ference cannot be correct without prudence, nor
without virtue ; for the one causes us to choose the
end, and the other to put in practice the means;
yet it has not power over wisdom, nor over the
superior parts of the soul; just as medicine is not
better than health ; for it does not make use of it,
but sees how it may be produced. It gives direc-
tions, therefore, for its sake, but not to it. Besides,
it would be the same kind of thing as if one should
say, that the political science has power over the
gods, because it gives directions respecting all things
m them

BOOK VIL

CHAP. I.

Of a kind of Heroic Virtue, and of Continence, and in like
manner of their contraries.

After what has been already said, we must make 1.
another beginning/ and state, that there are three J^ree .
forms of things to be avoided in morals—vice, in-
continence, brutality. The contraries of two oi vice. In-
these are self-evident: for we call one virtue, the continence,
other continence : but, as an opposite to brutality, Brutality,
it would be most suitable to name the virtue which opposites •
is above human nature, a sort of heroic and divine virtue,
virtue, such as Homer has made Priam attribute t#> Continence
Hector, because of his exceeding goodness—	Heroic

---"Nor did he seem -

The son of mortal man, but of a god." b

a It is not very easy to see at first the connection between
the four remaining books and the preceding six. The follow-
ing is the explanation given by Muretus. In the commence-
ment of the sixth book Aristotle has taught that two conditions
are requisite to the perfection of moral virtue : first, that the
moral sense (o vovq o irpaktikoq) should judge correctly;

next, that the appetites and passions should be obedient to its
decisions. But though the moral judgment should be correct,

the will is generally in opposition to it. If in this conflict
reason is victorious, and compels the will, though reluctant, to
obey, this moral state is continence ; if, on the contrary, the
will overcomes the reason, the result is incontinence. It was
essential to a practical treatise to treat of this imperfect or in-
choate virtue, as well as to discuss the theory of moral perfec-
tion. The case is somewhat analogous to that of physical
science, in which we first lay down theoretically the natural
laws without reference to the existence of any impediments,

and then modify our theory by calculating and allowing for
the effects of perturbations and resistances.

0 II. xxiv. 258.

n178

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vii.

£. So that if, as is commonly said, men become gods
because of excess of virtue, the habit, which is op-
posed to brutality, would evidently be something of
that kind : for just as there is no vice or virtue in
a brute, so also there is not in a god :c but in the
one case there is something more precious than
virtue; and in the other something different in
kind from vice.

3. But since the existence of a godlike man is a
rare thing (as the Lacedaemonians, when they admire
any one exceedingly, are accustomed to say, He is
Brutality a godlike man), so the brutal character is rare
rare, chiefly amongS£ men; and is mostly found amongst barba-
barbavians. rians.cc But some cases arise from disease and bodily
mutilations : and those who go beyond the rest of
mankind in vice we call by this bad name. Of
such a disposition as this we must make mention
subsequently :d of vice we have spoken before.

4 We must, however, treat of incontinence, and
of'The^11 s°ftness> and luxury, and of continence and patience :
gumentr" ^or we mus^ neither form our conceptions of each of
them as though they were the same habits with virtue
and vice, nor as though they were belonging to a
different genus. But, as in other cases, we must first
state the phenomena ; and, after raising difficulties,
then exhibit if we can all the opinions that have
been entertained on the subject of these passions *
or if not all, the greatest number, and the meal
important; for if the difficulties are solved, and the
most approved opinions left, the subject will have
been explained sufficiently.

It is a common opinion, then, first, that con-
tinence and patience belong to the number of things
good and praiseworthy; but incontinence and effe-
minacy to that of things bad and reprehensible.
That the continent man is identical with him who
c In the tenth book, c. viii., it will be seen that Aristotle
proves that the gods cannot possess any virtuous energies,
except that of contemplation.

cc See the description of the cannibalism of the inhabitants
of f'Optus and Tentyra, Juv. Sat. xv.

See the fifth and sixth chapters of this book®

Seven
points,CHAP, II.]

ETHICS.

179

abides by bis determination; and the incontinent,
with him who departs from his determination. That
the incontinent man, knowing that things are bad,
does them at the instigation of passion; but the
continent man, knowing that the desires are bad,
refuses to follow them in obedience to reason. That
the temperate man is continent and patient : but
some think that every one who is both continent
and patient is temperate; others do not. Some
call the intemperate man incontinent, and the
incontinent intemperate, indiscriminately ; others
assert that they are different. As to the prudent
man, sometimes it is said that it is impossible for
him to be incontinent • at other times, that some
men both prudent and clever are incontinent.
Lastly, men are said to be incontinent of anger,
and honour, and gain. These are the statements
generally made.

CHAP. II.

Certain Questions respecting Temperance and Intemperance.

A question might arise, how any one forming a 1.

right conception is incontinent. Some say, that if 3ni Point
he has a scientific knowledge, it is impossible : for considere^
it is strange, as Socrates thought,e if science exists
in the man, that anything else should have the
mastery, and drag him about like a slave. So- The opi
crates, indeed, resisted the argument altogether, as nion of
if incontinence did not exist: for that no one form- Socrates*
ing a right conception acted contrary to what is

e Aristotle (Magna Moral.) says, that in the opinion of
Socrates no one womld choose evil, knowing that it was evil:

but the incontinent man does so, being influenced by passion,

therefore he thought there was no such thing as incontinence.

This doctrine of Socrates doubtless originated, firstly, from his
belief that man's natural bias and inclination was towards
virtue, and that therefore it was absurd to suppose he would
pursue .vice except involuntarily or ignovantly. Secondly,

from his doctrine that the knowledge of the principles and
laws of morality was as capable of certainty and accuracy
.hose of mathematical science.

2sr 2180

ARISTOTLE'S	[book vn

best, but only through, ignorance. Now, this ac-
count is at variance with the phenomena ; and we
must inquire concerning this passion, if it proceeds
from ignorance, what manner of ignorance it is ;
for that the incontinent man, before he is actually
under the influence of passion, thinks that he ought

2.	not to yield, is evident. There are some who con-
cede one point, but not the rest; for that nothing
is superior to science they allow : but that no one
acts contrary to what they think best they do not
allow : and for this reason they say, that the incon-
tinent man is overcome by pleasures, not having
science, but opinion. But still, if it is opinion, and
not science, nor a strong conception, which opposes,
but a weak one, as in persons who are doubting, the
not persisting in this in opposition to strong de-
sires is pardonable : but vice is not pardonable, nor
anything else which is reprehensible.

3.	Perhaps, then, it may be said that it is pru-
6th point, dence which opposes, for this is the strongest. But

this is absurd ; for then the same man will at once
be prudent and incontinent: but not a single indi-
vidual would assert that it is the character of the
prudent man willingly to do the most vicious things.
Besides this, it has been shown before that the pru-
dent man is a practical man; for he has to do with
the practical extremes, and possesses all the other
virtues.

4.	A gain; if the continent character consists in hav-
ith point, ing strong and bad desires, the temperate man will

not be continent, nor the continent temperate ; for
excess does not belong to the temperate man, nor
the possession of bad desires. But, nevertheless,
the continent man must have bad desires ; for if
the desires are good, the habit, which forbids him
to follow them, is bad : so that continence would
not be in all cases good ; and if they are weak and
not bad, there is nothing grand in overcoming
them ; and if they are both bad and weak, there is
Toothing great in doing so.

Jk Again, if continence makes a man inclined toCHAP. II.]

ETHICS.

181

adhere to eveiy opinion, it is bad ; as, tor instance, 2nd point,
if it makes Mm inclined to adhere to a false one :

and if incontinence makes him depart from every
opinion, some species of incontinence will be good;

as, for instance, the case of Neoptolemus in the
Philoctetes of Sophocles ; for he is praiseworthy
for not adhering to what TJlysses persuaded him
to do, because he felt pain in telling a lie. Again, 6.
the sophistical argument, called " \pevd6fievog" causes
a difficulty :f for because they wish to prove para-
doxes, in order that they may appear clever when
they succeed, the syllogism, which is framed, be-
comes a difficulty : for the intellect is as it were
in bonds, inasmuch it does not wish to stop, because
it. is not satisfied with' the conclusion ; but it can-
not advance, because it cannot solve the argument.
And from one mode of reasoning it comes to pass ft.

that folly, together with incontinence, becomes vir-
tue ; for it acts contrary to its conceptions through
incontinence; but the conception which it found
was, that good was evil, and that it ought not to
be done : so that it will practise what is good, and
not what is evil.

Again, he who practises and pursues what is 8.

pleasant from being persuaded that it is right, and On this ^

after deliberate choice, would appear to be better

than the man who does so not from deliberation, per^

but from incontinence ; for he is more easily cured, m0re cura.

because he may be persuaded to change ; whereas ble than

to the incontinent man the proverbial expression t(ie incon-

i. -|i	x	tment.

is applicable,

" When water chokes, what is one to drink after ?" %

f This fallacy is denominated by Cicero " Mentiens." The
author of it is said to have beenEubulides, the Milesian. The
following is the form of it: '' When I lie, and say that I lie,

do I lie or do I speak the truth ? Thus, e. g., Epimenides, the
Cretan, said that all his countrymen were liars ; did he then
speak the truth ? If you say he did, it may be answered, that
he told a lie, inasmuch as he himself was a Cretan ; if you say
he did not, it may be answered, that he spoke the truth, for
the same reason."

8 This proverb is applicable to the arerumfint in the follow-182

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vx^

For if lie liad been persuaded to do what lie does,
lie miglit have been re-persuaded, and thus have
desisted ; but now, although persuaded, nevertheless
he acts contrary to that conviction.

9. Again, if there are incontinence and continence
7th point. on every object-matter, who is he who is simply
called incontinent 1 for no one is guilty of every
species of incontinence; but there are some whom
we call incontinent simply. The difficulties, then,
are somewhat of this nature; and of them we
must remove some, and leave others ; for the solu-
tion of the difficulty is the discovery of the truth.

CHAP. III.

How it is possible for one who has Knowledge to be
Incontinent.

1.	First, then, we must consider whether men are
Three incontinent, having knowledge or not, and in what
questions way having knowledge. Next, with what sort of

objects we must say that the continent and incon-
tinent have to do ; I mean, whether it is every
pleasure and pain, or some particular ones. Thirdly,
whether the continent and patient are the same
or different. And in like manner we must con-
sider all other subjects which are akin to this
speculation.

2.	The beginning of the discussion is, whether the
The object- continent and incontinent differ in the object, or
matter and ^ manner : I mean, whether the incontinent
considered. man incontinent merely from being employed in

this particular thing ; or whether it is not that,
but in the manner; or whether it is not that,

3.	but the result of both. Next, whether inconti-

ing way. Water is the most natural remedy for choking; but
if water itself chokes, what further remedy can be applied. So
reason is the best remedy for vice; but the incontinent man
acts in defiance of reason,—he has the remedy, but it dots not
profit him, what more then can be done ?a-HAP. III.]

ETHICS.

133

nence and continence are on every object-matter
or not : for lie that is called simply incontinent, is
not so in everything, but in the same tilings with
which the intemperate is concerned : nor is he so
from having reference to these things absolutely
(for then it would be the same as intemperance),

but from having reference to them in a particular
manner : for the intemperate is led on by deliberate
choice, thinking that he ought always to pursue
present pleasure : the incontinent does not think
so, but nevertheless pursues it.

Now as to the question whether it be a true 4,

opinion, and not science, in opposition to which ^ matters

A	• j • * I	-i ■ nn	, notwhetliei

men are incontinent, makes no aiiierence as to	0

/%	iii ••	^ay

the argument : for some who hoid opinions, do man acts
not feel any doubt, but think that they know for napa
certain. If then those, who hold opinions, be- ^°3av
cause their convictions are weak, will act contrary ,ri' orJraf)a

.	.	T	1	11	S 7TI or 27/^71-

to their conception, more than those who have
knowledge, then knowledge will in nowise differ
from opinion : for some are convinced of what they
think, no less than others are of what they know :
Heraclitus is an instance of this.h But since we 5.

speak of knowing in two ways (for he that pos- How the
sesses, but does not use his knowledge, as well as incontinent
he that uses it, is said to have knowledge), there c°"~
will be a difference between the having it, but not ^iar^fJlrim
using it, so as to see what we ought not to do, and First way.
the having it and using it.

Again, since there are two kinds of propositions, 6.
universal and particular, there is nothiiig to hinder Second
one who possesses both from acting contrary to way*
knowledge, using indeed the universal, but not the
particular ; for particulars are the subjects of moral
action. There are also two different applications of 7.
the universal—one to the person and one to the

h Heraclitus, although lie said that all his conclusions rested
on opinion, not on knowledge, still defended them as perti-
naciously, and believed their truth as firmly as other philoso-
phers, who asserted that theirs were founded on knowledge.—

Giphanius184

ARISTOTLE'S	^book VII.

thing as, for instance, a person knows tliat dry
food is good for every man, and that this is a man
or that such and such a thing is dry; but as to
whether this is such and such a thing, either he
does not possess the knowledge or does not use it.
In these two cases the difference will be inconceivably
great, so much so, that in one case knowledge involves
no absurdity, but in the other a very great one.

8.	Again, it is possible to possess knowledge in a
Hikdway. different manner from those above mentioned; for

we see the habit differing in the possessing but not
using knowledge, so that in a manner he has it and
has it not; such as the person who is asleep, or mad,
or drunk. Now, those who are under the influence
of passion are affected in the same way ; for anger,
and sensual desires, and so forth, evidently altet
the bodily state, and in some they even cause
madness. It is evident, therefore, that we must
say, that the incontinent are in a similar condition

9,	to these. But the fact of their uttering sentiments
which must have proceeded from knowledge is no
proof to the contrary, for those who are under the
influence of these passions recite demonstrations and
verses of Empedoclesjj and those who have learnt

1 The great difficulty which commentators have found in
explaining this confessedly obscure passage appears to me to
arise from this ; they have not observed that the expressions
to KaOoXov h<p' eavrov, and ro KaOoXov kiri tov trpayiicttog,
do not describe two different kinds of universals, but the uni-
versal as related to two different kinds of particulars; e.g., to
the major premiss, " All dry meats are good for man," may
be attached two different kinds of minors ; either, i 1 This is a
man," or " Such and such a thing is dry." The relation of
the major to the minor in the first case is ro KaOoXov s(f>'
eavrov, and it would appear absurd to conceive that any one
could go wrong. In the second case the relation is ro KaOoXov
€7tl tov 7tpayfjiat0q, and here there is no absurdity. We
cannot help knowing that this is a man,—we may not know
that such and such a thing is dry.

As rational beings, we all act on a syllogistic process. It is
generally found that even in the case of lunatics the reasoning
is correct, though the premisses are false,—the premisses being
influenced by the delusions under which they labour.

J How often do we find that the giving utterance to goodCHAP. III.j

ETHICS

186

for the first time string sentences together, but do
not yet understand them, for they must grow with
their growth, and this requires time ; so that we
must suppose the incontinent utter these sentiments
in the same manner in which actors do.

Again, one might consider the cause physicallyk 10.

in the following manner:—There is one opinion Fourth way*
upon universals, and another upon those particulars
which are immediately under the dominion of sensa-
tion ; and when one opinion is formed out of the
two, the soul must necessarily assert the conclusion,

and if it is a practical matter1 must immediately act
upon it: for instance, if it is right to taste every-
thing sweet, and this is sweet, as being an individual
belonging to this class, then he who has the power
and is not prevented, when he puts these two to-
gether, must necessarily act. "When, therefore, one 11.
universal opinion exists in us, which forbids us to
taste; and another that everything sweet is pleasant,

and this particular thing is sweet; and the last
universal energizes, and desire happens to be pre-
sent j the first universal tells us to avoid this par-
ticular thing, but desire leads us to pursue it; for
it is able to act as a motive to each of the parts of
man's nature. So that it comes to pass that he in 12.
a manner acts incontinently from reason and from Why bru*ei
opinion : not that the latter is opposed to the ^iJecHn6
former naturally, but accidentally ; for it is the de- continent*
sire, and not the opinion, which is opposed to right
reason. So that for this reason brutes are not in-

moral sentiments is quite consistent with hypocrisy ; and that
the use of a particular system of religious phraseology is no
sure indication of a truly Christian temper and character. In
such cases as these the characters of Charles Surface and
Mawworm furnish us with a valuable moral lesson.

k The subject is here said to be treated physically, because
the argument is founded upon the nature of the soul, its parts,

functions, &c. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say
" physiologically."

1 The word in the original (7roiyriica) is here translated
" practical matter," because it is used as opposed to Sreajpn-
riKOL; just as in English we oppose the words practical and
theoretical.186

ARISTOTLF/S

[book vii

continent, because they have no universal concep-
tions, but only an instinct of particulars and
memory.

13.	But as to how the ignorance is put an end to,
How the in-and the incontinent man again becomes possessed
continent 0£ knowledge, the account to be given is the same
knowledge! as ^at a mSin ^run^ or asleep, and is not pecu-
liar to this passion; and this account we must hear
from physiologists. But since the last [i. e. the
particular] proposition is an opinion formed by the
perceptive faculties, and influences the actions, he,
who is under the influence of passion, either does
not possess this, or possesses it not as though he had
knowledge, but merely as though he repeated, like
a drunken man, the Yorses of Empedocles. And
this is the case, because the last proposition is not
universal, and does not appear to be of a scientific
character in the same way that the universal does.

14.	And that which Socrates sought seems to result :
Socrates' for the passion does not arise when that, which
opinion. appears properly to be knowledge, is present; nor

is this dragged about by the passion; but it is,
when that opinion is present which is the result of
sensation. On the question, therefore, of acting
incontinently "with knowledge, or without, and how
is it possible to do so with knowledge, let what has
been said be considered sufficient.

CHAP. IY,

With what sort oj subjects he who is absolutely incontinent
has to do.

1. We must next consider, whether any one is abso-
Pih point, lutely incontinent, or whether all are so in particular
cases; and if the former is the case, with reference
to what sort of things he is so. Now that the
continent and patient, the incontinent and effemi-
nate, are so with respect to pleasures and pains,CHAP. IV.J

ETHICS.

187

is evident. But since some of tliose things which 2.

produce pleasure are necessary, and others, though Pleasures

chosen for their own sakes, yet admit of excess, tj0

those which are corporeal are necessary : I mean Necessary

those which relate to th e gratification of the appetite,

and such corporeal pleasures as we have stated to be

the object of intemperance and temperance ; others Unneces-

are not necessary, but chosen for their own sakes; sary.

I mean, for instance, victory, honour, wealth, and

such like good arid pleasant things. Now those, 3

who are in excess in these, contrary to the right Inconti-

reason which is in them, we do not call simply incon- nence in

Unent, but we add, incontinent of money, of gain, oftlie latter
7	. • . • n so termed

honour, or anger, but not simply incontinent; as 11 fromana.

they were different, and called so only from ana- logy.

logy ; just as to the generic term man we add the
difference, " who was victor at the Olympic games
for in this case the common description differs a little
from that which peculiarly belongs to him.131 And
this is a sign : incontinence is blamed, not only as
an error, but also as a sort of vice, either abso-
lutely, or in some particular case : but of the other
characters no one is so blamed. But of those who 4.

indulge in carnal pleasures, with respect to which Character
we call a man temperate and intemperate, he, who of t^ie m"

continent

pursues the excesses of things pleasant, and avoids
the excesses of things painful, as hunger and thirst,

heat and cold, and all things which have to do with
touch and taste, not from deliberately preferring,
but contrary to his deliberate preference and judg-
ment, is called incontinent simply, without the addi-
tion, that he is so in this particular thing; anger,
for example.

A sign of it is this : men are called effeminate 5.

in these, but in none of the others : and for this The incon-

reason we class together the incontinent and intern- firJent and
0	intemperate

classed

m As we distinguish an Olympic victor from other men by foggier
the addition of this differential property to the common term ®
man; so we distinguish simple from particular incontinence
by adding to the word " incontinent; the difference " of
inger," &c.ARISTOTLE'S	[book vn.

perate, and also tlie continent and temperate, but
not any of the others, because the former are in u
manner conversant with the same pleasures and
pains. They are indeed concerned with the same,
but not in the same manner; for the temperate
and intemperate deliberately prefer them, the others
do not.

6. Therefore we should call him who pursues ex-
Difference cesses and avoids moderate pains, not from desire,
4hcm6en or? ^	a slight desire, more intemperate than

he who does so from strong desire :11 for what
would the former have done, if he had been influ-
enced in addition by youthful desire, and excessive
pain at the want of things necessary h But since
some desires and pleasures belong to the class of
those which are honourable and good (for of things
pleasant, some are eligible by nature, some the con-
trary, and others indifferent, as, for instance, accord-
ing to our former division, the pleasures connected
with money, and gain, and victory, and honour),
in all such pleasures, and in those which are indif-
ferent, we are not blamed for feeling, or desiring,
or loving them, but for doing this somehow in

8. excess. Therefore all who are overcome by, or

Excess even pursue what is by nature honourable and good,
in Dleasures	^	°

naturally contrary to reason, are blamed; as for example,

good is those who are very anxious, and more so than they

blamed. ought to be, for honour, or for their children an£

parents (for these are goods, and those, who a?

anxious about them, are praised); but, nevertheless,

there may be excess even in the case of these, if

any one, like JSTiobe, were to fight against the gods,

or were to act like Satyrus surnamed Philopater, with

respect to his duty to his father; for he was thought

to be excessively foolish.

9 There is therefore no depravity in those cases
It is not * for the reason given, that each belongs to the class
actually 0f things which are by nature chosen for their own

fioxOrjpia.

n The yielding to slight temptations shows greater depravity
than the giving way to strong ones. A similar maxim is laid
down in the Rhet. I. xiv., with respect to acts of injustice.chap. v.]

ETHICS.

189

sakes; but still the excesses are bad and to be
avoided. So also there is no incontinence ; for in-
continence is not only to be avoided, but it belongs
also to the class of things blameable. But from the
similarity of the affection, we use the term incon-
tinence, with the addition of the idea of relation :

just as we call a man a bad physician and a bad
actor, whom we would not absolutely call bad. As,

therefore, in these instances we would not call them
so absolutely, because each is not really a vice, but
we call them so from analogy ; so in the other case Object-
it is clear that we must suppose that only to be in- matter of
continence and continence, which has the same and^ncoiT
object-matter with temperance and intemperance, tinence
In the case of anger, we use the term analogically ; the same aa
and therefore we call a man incontinent, adding " of that of tem-
anger," just as we add " of honour," or " of gain." ^a^cteem

__perance.

CHAP. Y.

Of Brutality, and the forms of it.

But since some things are pleasant by nature (and 1.
of these, some are absolutely so, others relatively Division
to different kinds of animals and men), others are of ^Ea'
pleasant not from nature, but some owing to bodily
injuries, others from custom, and others from na-
tural depravity, in each of these we may observe
corresponding habits.1111 I mean by brutal habits, 2.
for instance, the case of that woman,0 who, they say, Examples

of &r)pior qg

nn 'Htfea

(pvusi	OV (pVGSl

®7TXw£ icard ykvrj did irlypwcreLQ di' 'iOtj did [XOxOtfpdc

(pVGUC.

• See Hor. de Arte Poet. v. 340.

" Neu pransse Lamise vivum puerum extrahat alvo 'y190

ARISTOTLE'S	[book yii„

ripped up women with, child, find devoured the
children ; or the practices, in which it is said that
some savages about Pontus delight, such as raw
meat, or human flesh, or in giving their children
to each other for a feast; or what is said of Phalaris.

3.	These are brutal habits. Others originate in some
people from disease and madness; such was the
case of him who sacrificed and ate his mother, and
of him who ate his fellow-slave's liver. Others
arise from disease and custom; as the plucking of
hair and biting of nails, and further the eating coals
and earth ; to which may be added unnatural pas-
sion ; for these things originate sometimes from
nature, sometimes from custom ; as in the case of
those who have been corrupted from childhood.

4.	Those in whom nature is the cause, no one would

When na- call incontinent; as no one would find fault with

ture is the womeil for -t}ie peculiarities of their sex : and the
cause.	•

case is the same with those who are through habit

diseased. Now to have any of these habits is out of

5.	the limits of vice, as also is brutality. But when
one has them, to conquer them or to be con-
quered by them is not absolutely [continence or]
incontinence, but only that which is called so from
resemblance; in the same manner as we must say
of him who is affected in this way with respect to
anger, that he is incontinent of anger, not simply
incontinent: for as to every instance of excessive
folly, and cowardice, and intemperance, and rage
some of them are brutal, and some proceed fro^i

Disease. disease ; for he, whose natural constitution is such,
as to fear everything, even if a mouse squeaks, is
cowardly with a brutish cowardice; as he who was

6.	afraid of a cat was cowardly from diseased And of
fools, those who are irrational by nature, and live
only by sensual instincts, are brutish, like some
tribes of distant barbarians ; but others are so from
disease ; for instance, epilepsy, or insanity.

f. But it is possible only to have some of these

" Some that are mad, if they behold a cat."

Shak. Merch. of Ven.e&jp. vi.]

ETHICS.

191

occasionally, and not to be overcome by them ; I
mean, for instance, if Plialaris bad restrained him-
self, wben be felt a desire to eat a child, or for
un natural pleasures. It is possible also not only to
ha v^e, but to be overcome by them. As, therefore, 8.

in the case of depravity, that which is human, is
simply called depravity : and tbe otber kind is called
so with tbe addition that it is brutisb or caused
by disease, but not simply so : in tbe same manner
it is clear that incontinence is sometimes brutish,
and sometimes caused by disease ; but that is only
called so simply, which is allied to buman intem-
perance. Therefore that incontinence and conti- 9.

nence are only concerned witb the same things as Metapho-
intemperance and temperance, and that in otber *1°^^ ^
tilings there is another species of incontinence, called continence,
so metaphorically and not absolutely, is plain.

CHAP. YI.q

That Incontinence of Anger is less disgraceful than Incon-
tinence of Desire.

Let us now consider tbe fact, that incontinence of J^cor)ti
anger is less disgraceful than incontinence of desire. nence 0}
For anger seems to listen somewbat to reason, desire worse
but to listen imperfectly; as basty servants, wbo than in-
before tbey have beard tbe wbole message, run continents
away, and then misunderstand tbe order; and dogs, 0 angei'
before they have considered whether it is a friend,

if they only hear a noise, bark : thus anger, from a
natural warmth and quickness, having listened, but
not understood the order, rushes to vengeance, For 2*

reason or imagination has declared, that the slight
is an insult; and anger, as if it had drawn the in-
ference that it ought to quarrel with such a person,
is therefore immediately exasperated. But desire,

if reason or sense should only say that the thing is

Compare with this chapter, Arist. Rhet. II. ii. ; and Bishop
Butler's Sermon upon Resentment.192

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ¥11

3,	pleasant, nisb.es to the enjoyment of it. So that
anger in some sense follows reason, but desire does
not; it is therefore more- disgraceful; for he that
is incontinent of anger, is, so to speak, overcome by
reason; but the other is overcome by desire, and
not by reason.

4.	Again, it is more pardonable to follow natural
natural*101^ aPPe^es> ^or ^ is more pardonable to follow such

desires as are common to all, and so far forth as

they are common. But anger and asperity are more

5> natural than excessive and unnecessary desires. It

is like the case of the man who defended himself

for beating his father, because, said he, my father

beat his father, and he again beat his ; and he,

also (pointing to his child) will beat me, when he

becomes a man; for it runs in our family. And he

that was dragged by his son, bid him stop at the

door, for that he himself had dragged his father so

6. far. Again, those who are more insidious, are

Less in- m0re unjust. Now the passionate man is not in-
sidious	•	•

sidious, nor is anger, but is open ; whereas desire is

so, as they say of Yenus,

" Cyprian goddess, weaver of deceit."

And Homer says of the Cestus,

" Allurement cheats the senses of the wise."1

So that if this incontinence is more unjust, it is

also more disgraceful than incontinence in anger,

and is absolute incontinence, and in some sense vice.

_	Again, no one commits a rape under a feeling of

Does not .

imply pain; but every one, who acts from anger, acts
wanton under a feeling of pain; whereas he that commits
insolence, a rape, does it with pleasure. If, then, those things
are more unjust with which it is most just to be
angry, then incontinence in desire is more unj ust;
8 for there is no wanton insolence in anger. Conse-
quently, it is plain, that incontinence of desire is
more disgraceful than that of anger, and that con-
tinence and incontinence are conversant with bodily
desires and pleasures. But we must understand

" Horn II. xiv. 214 ; Pope's transl. line 243—252.ghap. vii.]

ETHICS.

193

the different forms of these; for, as has been said at
the beginning, some are human and natural, both in
kind and in degree ; others are brutal; and others
arise from bodily injuries and disease ; but tem-
perance and intemperance are only conversant with
the first of these. For this reason we never call
beasts temperate or intemperate, except metapho-
rically, or if any kind of animals differ in some
respect entirely from another kind in wantonness
and mischief, and voracity; for they have no deli-
berate choice, nor reason; but are out of their
nature, like human beings who are out of their
mind.

But brutality is a less evil than vice, though m^re 3.
formidable; for the best principle has not been Brutality,
destroyed, as in the human being, but it has never
existed. It is just the same, therefore, as to com-
pare the inanimate with the animate, in order to
see which is worse ; for the viciousness of that which
is without principle is always the less mischievous;
but intellect is the principle. It is therefore almost
the same as to compare injustice with an unjust
man; for it is possible that either may be the
worse ; for a vicious man can do ten thousand times
as much harm as a beast.

CHAP. YII.

On the difference between Continence and Patience, and
between Incontinence and Effeminacy.

With respect to the pleasures and pains, the 1.
desires and aversions which arise from touch and These ha*
taste (with which intemperance and temperance *

have already been defined as being conversant), it
Is possible to be affected in such a manner, as to
give way to those which the generality overcome ;

and it is possible to overcome those to which the
generality give way. "Whoever, then, is so affected
as regards pleasure, is either incontinent or conti-
o104

ARISTOTLE'S	[boos: VII.

nent ; and as regards pain, either effeminate oj*
patient. But the habits of the generality are be-
tween the two, although they incline rather to
2- the worse. Now since some pleasures are necessary,
Intempe- while others are not so, or only up to a certain
point, whilst their excesses and defects are not
necessary; the same holds good with desires and
pains; he who pursues those pleasures which are in
excess, or pursues them to excess, or from delibe-
rate preference, and for their own sakes, and not
for the sake of any further result, is intemperate ;
for this man must necessarily be disinclined to re-
pentance, so that he is incurable; for the impeni-
tent is incurable. He that is in the defect, is the
opposite ; he that is in the mean, is temperate.
The case is similar with him who shuns bodily
pains, not from being overcome, but from delibe-
rate preference.

3. Of those who act without deliberate preference,
one is led by pleasure ; another by the motive of
avoiding the pain which arises from desire ; so that
they differ from each other. But every one would
think a man worse, if he did anything disgraceful
when he felt no desire, or only a slight one, than if
he felt very strong desires; and if he struck
another without being angry, than if he had been
angry ; for what would he have done, had he been
under the influence of passion ? Therefore, the in-
4# temperate is worse than the incontinent. Gf those
Worse than then that have been mentioned, one is rather a
inconti- species of effeminacy, the other is incontinent. The
nen?e. continent is opposed to the incontinent, and the
patient to the effeminate; for patience consists in
resisting, continence in having the mastery; but
to resist and to have the mastery differ in the same
Continence wa7 as no^ being defeated differs from gaining %
better than victory. Therefore, also, continence is more eligi-
patience. ble than patience.

5. He who fails in resisting those things against
Effeminacy. ^hich the generality strive and prevail, is effemi-
nate and self-indulgent (for sell-indulgence is a spe*CHAP. VII.]

ETHICS,

195

cies of effeminacy);' lie who dragsP his robe after
liim, that he may not be annoyed with the pain of
carrying it; and who, imitating an invalid, does not
think himself a wretched creature, although he
resembles one who is. The case is the same with 6.
continence and incontinence ; for it is not to be
wondered at, if a man is overcome by violent and
excessive pleasures or pains ; but it is pardonable,

if he struggles against them (like the Philoctetes
of <Theodectes, when he had been bitten by the
viper, or the Cercyon of Carcinus in the Alope ;

and like those, who, though they endeavour to
stifle their laughter, burst out, as happened to
Xenophantus); but it is astonishing, if any one is
overcome by and cannot resist those which the
generality are able to resist, and this not because of
their natural constitution, or disease, as for exam-
ple, effeminacy is hereditary in the Scythian kingS ; 9
and as the female sex differs from the male.

He, too, who is excessively fond of sport, is 7.

thought intemperate; but in reality he is effemi-
nate ; for sport is a relaxation, if it is a cessation
from toil; and he who is too greatly given to
sport, is of the number of those who are in the
excess in this respect. Of incontinence, one species 8.
is precipitancy, another is weakness ; for the weak, Division cl

P To allow the robe to drag along the ground was amongstlncon^'
the Greeks a sign of indolence and effeminacy. Amongst the
Asiatics, trains were worn; hence Homer says, II. vi. 442
(Pope's transl. 563) :—

"And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground."

On the contrary, the expression well-girded {avr)p (.v^ojvoq)
was synonymous with an active man. " To gird the loins"

is a phrase familiar to every one.

i Theodectes was an orator and tragic poet, a pupil of Iso-
crates, and a friend of Aristotle. To him Aristotle addressed
his Rhetoric. There were two Carcini, one an Athenian, the
mother an Agrigentine. It is uncertain to which this tragedy
should be attributed. Carcinus is mentioned with praise, both
in the Rhetoric and Poetic. Of Xenophantus nothing certain
is known. The mention here made of the Scythian kings
refers to a passage in Herodotus (Book I. c. cv.), where he
speaks of the punishment inflicted on that nation for spoiling
the temple of Venus in Ascalon.196

ARISTOTLE'S

[book VU

nence into when they have deliberated, do not abide by their
npoirkreia determinations, owing to passion ; but the precipi-
and a<708-	from not having deliberated at all, are led by

v ' passion. For some (just as people, who have
tickled themselves beforehand, do not feel the
tickling of others), being aware of it previously,
and having foreseen it, and roused themselves and
their reason beforehand, are not overcome by the
9. passion, whether it be pleasant or painful. And it
is the quick and choleric who are most inclined
to the precipitate incontinence ; for the former from
haste, and the latter from intensity of feeling, do
not wait for reason, because they are apt to be led
by their fancy.

CHAP. VIII.

The difference between Incontinence and Intemperance.

1. The intemperate, as has been said, is not inclined
Whyincon-to repent; for he abides by his deliberate prefe-
rence is rence; but the incontinent, in every case, is inclined
intempe-911 rePen^- Therefore the fact is not as we stated
ranee. in the question which we raised above: but the
former is incurable, and the latter curable; for de-
pravity resembles dropsy and consumption amongst
diseases, and incontinence resembles epilepsy; for
the former is a permanent, the latter not a perma-
nent vice." The genus of incontinence is altogether
different from that of vice; for vice is unperceived
by the vicious; but incontinence is not.r

* Intemperance is perfect vice, incontinence, imperfect. In
the intemperate, therefore, the moral principle is destroyed,
the voice of conscience silenced, the light which is within him
is become darkness. He does not even feel that he is wrong ;
he is like a man suffering from a chronic disease, which is so
much the more dangerous and incurable because it is painless.
Pain has ceased, mortification, so to speak, has begun. The
incontinent man, on the other hand, feels the pangs of remorse,
hears the disapproving voice of conscience, experiences uneasi-
ness, the " sorrow which worketh repentance his disease is
acute, and may be cured.LH IkP. VIII.]

ETHICS.

197

Of the characters themselves, the precipitate are 2.
better than those who have reason, but do not abide
by it; for these last are overcome by a weaker
passion, and are not without premeditation, as the
others are : for the incontinent resembles those
who are intoxicated quickly, and with a little wine,
and with less than the majority. Consequently
that incontinence is not vice, is evident : but per- Inconti-
haps it is so to a certain extent: for the one nence is
is contrary, the other according to deliberate pre-
ference. Not but that they are similar in their
acts : as Demodocus said of the Milesians; " the
Milesians are not fools, but they act like fools
and so the incontinent are not unjust, but they act
unjustly. But since the one is such, as to follow inconti-
those bodily pleasures, which are in excess, and nence is
contrary to right reason, not from being persuaded curable'
to do so; but the other is persuaded to it, because
his character is such, as inclines him to pursue them ;
therefore, the former is easily persuaded to change,
but the latter is not. For as to virtue and de- 4
pravity, one destroys, and the other preserves the
principle: but in moral action the motive is the
principle, just as the hypotheses are in mathematics.
Neither in mathematics does reason teach the prin-
ciples, nor in morals, but virtue, either natural or
acquired by habit, teaches to think rightly respect-
ing the principle. Such a character, therefore, is
temperate, and the contrary character is intem-
perate.

But there is a character, who from passion is pre- 5,
cipitate contrary to right reason, which passion so
far masters, as to prevent him from acting accord-
ing to right reason ; but it does not master him so
far, as to make him one who would be persuaded that
he ought to follow such pleasures without restraint.

This is the incontinent man; better than the in-
temperate, and not vicious absolutely ; for the best
thing, i. e. the principle, is preserved. But there is
another character opposite to this ; he that abides
by his opinions, and is not precipitate, at least, not198

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vr*v

through, passion. It is evident, then, from the above
considerations, that one habit is good, the other
bad.

CHAP. IX.

The Difference between the Continent and those who abide by
their Opinion.

1. Is he. then, continent, who abides by any reason and
Difference any deliberate preference whatever, or he who abides
between by the right one % and is he incontinent who does
and^obsti-6 no^ a^e by an7 deliberate preference, and any
nacy. reason whatever, or he who abides by false reason
and wrong deliberate preference 1 on which points
we raised a question before ; or is he that abides or
does not abide by any whatever accidentally so,
but absolutely Jie who abides or does not abide by
true reason and right deliberate preference ? For
if any one chooses or pursues one thing for the sake
of another, he pursues and chooses the latter for its
own sake, but the former accidentally. By the
expression " for its own sake" we mean " abso-
lutely." So that it is possible that the one adheres
to, and the other departs from, any opinion what-
ever ; but absolutely the true one.

2# But there are some who are apt to abide by their
'I<rxvP°- opinion who are commonl/ called obstinate ; as, for
yjwfioviQ example, those who are difficult to be persuaded,
and Svff- anc[ ^0 are not easily persuaded to change : these
bear some resemblance to the continent, in the same
way that the prodigal resembles the liberal, and the
rash the brave ; but they are different in many re-
spects. For the one (that is, the continent) is not
led by passion and desire to change ; for the conti-
nent man will be easily persuaded under certain
circumstances ; but the other not even by reason j
since many feel desires, and are led by pleasures.
The obstinate include the self-willed, and the un-
educated, and the clownish ; the self-willed are ob-CHAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

199

stinate from pleasure and pain ; for they delight 3.
in gaining a victory, if they are not persuaded to Three divi-
change their opinion; and they feel pain if their g^ac°f
decisions, like public enactments, are not ratified.

So that they resemble the incontinent more than
the continent.

There are some who do not abide by their 4.
opinions, but not from incontinence ; for instance,
JSeoptolemus in the Philoctetes of Sophocles; it
was on account of pleasure that he did not abide
by it; still it was an honourable pleasure ; for to
speak truth was honourable to him, and he had
been persuaded by Ulysses to speak falsely: for
not every one that does anything from pleasure is
intemperate, or vicious, or incontinent, but he who
does it for the sake of disgraceful pleasure.

Since there is such a character as takes less 5.

delight than he ought in bodily pleasures, and Extreme on
does not abide by reason, he who is in the mean defect
between that and the incontinent is the conti- nameless,
nent: for the incontinent, in consequence of some
excess, does not abide by reason ; and the other,
in consequence of some defect; but the continent
abides by it, and does not change from either cause.

Now if continence is good, both the opposite habits
must be bad, as they appear to be : but because the
one is seen in few cases and rarely, in the same manner
as temperance is thought to be the only opposite to
intemperance, so is continence to incontinence. But 6.

since many expressions are used from resemblance, The mutual
this is the reason for the expression " the continence r,elati?n,?5

tll6S6tlSultSi

of the temperate man for the continent man is one
who would do nothing contrary to reason for the
sake of bodily pleasures, and so is the temperate ;

but the former possesses, the latter does not possess,
bad desires : and the latter is not one to be pleased
contrary to reason, but the former is one to feel
pleasure, though not to be led by it. The case is
the same with the incontinent and intemperate ;

they are different, but both pursue bodily plea-
sures : the one thinking that he ought, the -other
not thinking so.200

ARISTOTLE'S	[book vh»

CHAP. X.

That it is not possible for the same Man to be at once
Prudent and Incontinent.

1.	It is impossible for the same man to be at once
Why the prudent and incontinent : for it lias been shown
incontinent a pruc[ent man is at the same time good in

rftTinor hp	o

prudent. moral character. Again, a man is not prudent
from merely knowing, but from being also disposed

2.	to act; but the incontinent is not disposed to act.
There is nothing to hinder the clever man from
being incontinent : and therefore some men now
and then are thought to be prudent, and yet incon-
tinent, because cleverness differs from prudence in
the manner which has been mentioned in the earlier
part of this treatise (Book YI. c. xii.), and resembles
ifc with respect to the definition, but differs with
respect to deliberate preference.

'6. The incontinent therefore is not like one who has
knowledge and uses it, but like one asleep or drunk;
and he acts willingly ; for he in a manner knows
both what he does and his motive for doing it; but
Difference he is not wicked; for his deliberate preference is
between in- good ; so that he is half-wicked, and not unjust, for

aruWice06 *S no^ ^ns^c^ous- ^or one °f them is not disposed
to abide by his deliberations; and the choleric is
not disposed to deliberate at all. Therefore, the in-
continent man resembles a state which passes all
the enactments which it ought, and has good laws,
but uses none of them, according to the jest of
An axandrides,s

" The state willed it, which careth nought for laws :M

but the wicked man resembles a city which uses

4. laws, but uses bad ones. Incontinence and conti-

s Anaxandrides was a comic poet, of Rhodes, who waa
starved to death by the Athenians, for writing a poem against
them.—See Athenseus, IX. c. xvi.CKA.P. X.]

ETHICS

201

nence are conversant with, tlie excess over the habit
of the generality ; for the one is more firm and
the other less, than the generality are able to be.

But the incontinence of the choleric is more curable The incon-
than that of those who have deliberated, but do tinence of
not abide by their deliberations; and that of those ^c^?len4
who are incontinent from custom, than those who ^QLa^0v,
are so by nature ; for it is easier to change custom more cura«
than nature. For the reason why it is difficult to hie.
change custom is, because it resembles nature, as
Evenus says,1

14 Practice, my friend, lasts long, and therefore is
A second nature, in the end, to man."

What, then, continence is, and what incontinence, £•.
and patience, and effeminacy, and what relation these
habits bear to one another, has been sufficiently
explained."

4 Evenus was an elegiac poet of Paros.

u The four concluding chapters of this book, as printed In
the Greek, are considered spurious, it being most improbable
that Aristotle would have treated of the subject of pleasure
here in an imperfect manner, and again fully in the tenth
book. The opinion of Casaubon is that these chapters were
improperly transferred to this place from the Eudemian
They are therefore omitted.202

BOOK VIII

CHAP. I.

Of Friendship.*

It would follow next after tliis to treat of friend-
whaSfriend	f°r ^ *s a kind of virtue, or joined with

ship i"611 " virt116' Besides, it is most necessary for life : for
treated of. without friends no one would choose to live, even
The rela- if he had all other goods.b For to the rich, and to

a Friendship, although, strictly speaking, it is not a virtue,
is, nevertheless, closely connected with virtue. The amiable
feelings and affections of our nature, which are the foundation
of friendship, if cultivated and rightly directed, lead to the dis-
charge of our moral and social duties. It is also almost indis-
pensable to the highest notions which we can form of human
happiness. On these accounts the subject is appropriately
introduced in a treatise on Ethics. But friendship acquires
additional importance from the place which it occupied in
the Greek political system. As, owing to the public duties
(\firovpyiai) which devolved upon the richer citizens,
magnificence (fxeyaXoirpErreia) was nearly allied to patriotism ;
as, again, to make provision for the moral education of the
people was considered one of the highest duties of a states™
man, so friendships, under which term were included all the
principles of association and bonds of union between indivi-
duals, involved great public interests. " The Greeks,'' says
Mr. Brewer, " had been accustomed to look upon the friend-
ships of individuals, and the kraipeXai which existed in
different forms among them, as the organs, not only of great
political changes and revolutions in the state, but as influ-
encing the minds and morals of the people to an almost in-
conceivable extent. The same influence which the press exerts
amongst us, did these political and individual unions exert
amongst them." Many occasions will of course opcur of
comparing with this book the Lselius of Cicero.

b Nam quis est, pro deum atque hominum fidem ! qui velit,
ut neque diligat quenquam, nec ipse at) ullo diligatur, circum-
fluere omnibus copiis, atque in omnium rerum abundantia
vivere ?—Cic. L«l. xv. 52.CHAP. I.]

ETHICS.

203

those wlio possess office and authority, there seems to friendsnip
be an especial need of friends; for what use is there to virtue,
in such good fortune, if the power of conferring 2-
benefits is taken away, which is exerted principally
and in the most praiseworthy manner towards
friends 1 or how could it be kept safe and preserved
without friends ? for the greater it is, the more in-
secure is it. And in poverty and in all other mis- 3.
fortunes men think that friends are the only refuge.0
It is also necessary to the young, in order to keep
them from error, and to the old, as a comfort to
them, and to supply that which is deficient in their
actions on account of weakness; and to those in the
vigour of life to further their noble deeds, as the
poet says, 1

11 When two come together," &c.

Horn. ii. x. 224.d

For they are more able to conceive and to execute.
It seems also naturally to exist in the producer 4.
towards the produced f and not only in men, but Tlmt 11 i2
also in birds, and in most animals, and in those of natura1,
the same race/ towards one another, and most of
all in human beings : whence we praise the philan-
thropic. One may see, also, in travelling, how in-
timate and friendly every man is with his fellow-
man.

Friendship also seems to hold states together, and 5.
c Adversas res ferre difficile esset, sine eo, qui illas gravius
etiam, quam tu ferret. Nam et secundas res splendidiores
facit amicitia, et adversas partiens communicansque leviores.

—Lsel. vi. 22.

d The whole passage is thus translated by Pope :—

" By mutual confidence, and mutual aid,

Great deeds are done, and great discoveries made;

The wise new prudence from the wise acquire,

And one brave hero fans another's fire."

Pope, Horn. 11. x. 265.

e Filiola tua te delectari lsetor, et probari tibi, <pvalkt/v esse
ri)v itpog ra reicva.—Cic. ad Att. vii. 2, 4.

f Quod si hoc apparet in bestiis, primum ut se ipsse diligant,

deinde ut requirant atque appetant, ad quas se applicent ejuss-
dem generis animantes.—Lael. xxi. si. See also Theocr.

ix. 31.204

ARISTOTLE'S	[book vm,

Friendship legislators appear to pay more attention to it than
of impur- justice ; for unanimity of opinion seems to be
states -°it something resembling friendship; and tliey are
supersedes most desirous of this, and banish faction as being
justice. the greatest enemy. And when men are friends,
there is no need of justice :S but when they are

6.	just, they still need friendship. And of all just
things that which is the most so is thought to belong

It is kciXov. to friendship. It is not only necessary, but also
honourable ; for we praise those who are fond of
friends ; and the having many friends seems to be
one kind of things honourable.

7.	But there are not a few questions raised concern-
ing it; for some lay it down as being a kind of
resemblance, and that those who resemble one
another are friends ; whence they say, " Like to
like,"11 " Jackdaw to jackdaw,"- and so on : others,
on the contrary, say that all such are like potters
to one another. And on these points they carry
their investigation higher and more physiologically.
Euripides says,

" The earth parch'd up with drought doth love the rain:
The lowering heavens when filled with moisture love
To fall to earth." 1

Heraclitusk also thought that opposition is advan-
tageous, and that the most beautiful harmony arises
from things different, and that everything is pro-

e This is true upon the same principle which is the foun-
dation of the Christian maxim, " Love is the fulfilling of the
law."

h See Horn. Od. xvii. 218 :—

" The good old proverb does this pair fulfil,

One rogue is usher to another still.

Heaven with a secret principle endued
Mankind, to seek their own similitude."—Pope.

The proverb KEpafxevg Kepafxel tcoreei, is from Hesiod,
Works and Days, 25. It is equivalent to our own proverb-—
#	" Two of a trade can never agree."—See also Arist. Rhet.

Book II. c. iv.

1 The whole passage may be found in Athenseus's Deipnos.
XIII.

k Heraclitus of Ephesus held that all things were produced
u ex motu contrario rerum contrariarum."CHAP XI.J

ETHICS.

205

duced by strife. Others, and especially Empedocles,1 8.

held contrary opinions, for they held—that like is
fond of like.

Now, let the physiological questions be passed over,

for they do not belong to our present consideration.

But as for all the questions which have to do with
man, and refer to his moral character and his pas-
sions, these let us consider ; as, for instance, whe-
ther friendship exists between all, or whether it is
impossible for the wicked to be friends : and, whe- Whether
ther there is only one species of friendship, or more ; friendship
*br those who think there is only one, because it ^0^xl^e
admits of degrees, trust to an insufficient proof : w?cked.T 6
for things differing in species admit of degrees; Whether it
but we have spoken of this before.111	ot' more

kinds than
one.

CHAP. II.

What the Object of Love is.

Perhaps we might arriye at clear ideas about these 1.

matters if it were known what the object of love is: ^tXrjrd, are,
for it is thought to be not everything which is loved, a<X(t®0V\
but only that which is an object of love ; and this
is the good, the pleasant, or the useful. That would
be thought to be useful, by means of which some
good or some pleasure is produced : so that the good
and pleasant would be objects of love, considered
as ends. Do men, then, love the good, or that which
is good to themselves ? for these sometimes are at
variance. The case is the same with the pleasant.

Each is thought to love that which is good to him-

1 Compare what Cicero says of Empedocles, in the Lselius,

C. vii.:— " Agrigentinum quidem doctum qusedam carminibus
Grsecis vaticinatum ferunt, quse in rerum natura totoque
mundo constarent, quseque moverentur, ea contrahere amici-
tiam, dissipare concordiam."

m The scholiast says that the passage in which this subject
was before spoken of must have been lost, but it probably
refers to Eth. Book II. c. viii.206

ARISTOTLE'S	[book vtii.

self; and absolutely the good is an object of love,
but relatively to each individual, that which is so
t to each.

2.	Now, each loves not that which is in reality good

The fi\n- to himself, but that which appears so ; but :his will

tov is the make no difference; for the object of love will be

fiaoZ.™ that wliich appears to be good. But since there

We have 110 are three motives on account of which men love, the

friendship term friendship cannot be used to express a fond-

fcr inani- nesg for things inanimate : for there is no return
mate things	•

* of fondness, nor any wishing of good to them.n For

it is perhaps ridiculous to wish good to wine ; but if

a man does so, he wishes for its preservation, in ordei

3.	that he himself may have it. But we say that
men should wish good to a friend for his sake ; and
those who wish good to him thus, we call well-dis-
posed, unless there is also the same feeling enter-
tained by the other party ; for good-will mutually
felt is friendship; or must we add the condition,
that this mutual good-will must not be unknown

4.	to both parties 1 For many feel good-will towards
those whom they have never seen, but who they
suppose are good or useful to them; and this same
feeling may be reciprocated. These, then, do in-
deed appear well-disposed towards one another;
but how can one call them friends, when neither

Definition, knows how the other is disposed to him ? They
ought, therefore, to have good-will towards each
other, and wish each other what is good, not with-
uot each other's knowledge, and for one of the mo-
tives mentioned.

CHAP. III.

On the different kinds of Friendship,

!• But these motives differ in species from one ano-

T,hr.ekfds ther; therefore the affections do so likewise, and the
or mend-	3

*hip.	B Compare Rh'et. II. iv.e»A*». tn.]

ETHICS.

207

friendships ; consequently there are three species of
friendship, equal in number to tlie objects of love,

since in each there is a return of affection, and both
parties are aware of it. But those who love one
another wish what is good to one another, according
to the motive on account of which they love. Now, 2.

those who love one another for the sake of the use-
ful, do not love each other disinterestedly, but only
so far forth as there results some good to themselves
from one another. The case is the same with those
who love for the sake of pleasure, for they do not
love the witty from their being of such a character,
but because they are pleasant to them; and, there-
fore, those who love for the sake of the useful love
for the sake of what is good to themselves, • and
those who love for the sake of pleasure love for the
sake of what is pleasant to themselves, and not so
far forth as the person loved exists, but so far forth
as he is useful or pleasant.

These friendships, therefore, are accidental; for 3.
the person loved is not loved for being who he is, but	.

for providing something either good or pleasant; con- s "l
sequently such friendships are easily dissolved, if the anci Sid r'd
parties do not continue in similar circumstances; for r/dv, are
if they are no longer pleasant or useful, they cease easily dis-
to love. Now the useful is not permanent, but be- ^use acci&
comes different at different times ; therefore, when dental,
that is done away for the sake of wliich they be-
came friends, the friendship also is dissolved; which
clearly shows that the friendship was for those mo-
tives. Such friendship is thought mostly to be formed 4.
between old men;0 for men at such an age do not The formei
pursue the pleasant, but the useful; and it is found
amongst those in the prime of life and in youth tween the
who pursue the useful.	old.

But such persons do not generally even associate
with one another, for sometimes they are not plea-
sant ; consequently they do not need such intimacy,

0 See on characters of the young sCnd the old Arist. Rhet.

Lib. II. cc. xii. xiii. ; also Hor. de Art. Poet., and Ter. Adelpb
V. iii.208

ARISTOTLE'S

[book vm,

unless they are useful to each other; for they are
pleasant so far as they entertain, hopes of good.
Amongst friendships of this kind is ranked that of

5.	hospitality. The friendship of the young is thought
The latter to be for the sake of pleasure ; for they live accord-
between the ing to passion, and mostly pursue what is pleasant
young. to themselves and present; but as they grow older,

their idea of what is pleasant also becomes different;
therefore they quickly become friends and quickly
cease to be so ; for their friendship changes together
with what is pleasant; and of such pleasure as this

6.	the change is rapid. Young men also are given to
sexual love; for the principal part of sexual love is
from passion and for the sake of pleasure ; there-
fore they love and quickly cease to love, changing
often in the same day; but they wish to pass their
time together and to associate, for thus they attain
what they sought in their friendship.

7.	The friendship of the good and of those who
The friend- are alike in virtue is perfect; for these wish good
ship of the £0 one anofc}1(er in the same way, so far forth as

they are good; but they are good of themselves;
and those who wish good to tlieir friends for the
friends' sake are friends in the highest degree, for
they have this feeling for the sake of the friends
themselves, and not accidentally; their friendship,
therefore, continues as long as they are good; and
includes the virtue is a permanent tliiug.P And each is good ab-
btfkXifiov solutely and also relatively to his friend, for the
and yov. good are both absolutely good and also relatively to
one another; for to each their own actions and
those which are like their own. are pleasant, but the
actions of the good are either the same or similar.

8.	SSuch friendship as this is, as we might expect,
Is perma- permanent, for it contains in it all the requisites for
nent. friends ; for every friendship is for the sake of good

or pleasure, either absolutely or to the person loving,
and results from a certain resemblance. In this

P Virtus, virtus inquam, et conciliat amicitias et conservat;
in ea est eriim convenientia rerum, in ea stabilitas, in ea con-
itautia.—Cic. Lael. xxvii.CHAP. IV.]

ETHTCS.

289

friendship, all tliat lias been mentioned exists in
the pai ties themselves, for in this there is a simi-
larity, and all the other requisites, and that which
is absolutely good is also absolutely pleasant; but
these are the principal objects of love, and therefore
the feeling friendship, and friendship itself, exists,

and is best, in these more than in any others.

It is to be expected that such would be rare, 9.
for there are few such characters as these. More- Rare, re-
over, it requires time and long acquaintance, for, ciuires tmvr«
according to the proverb, it is impossible for men to
know one another before they have eaten a stated
quantity of salt together,9 nor Jan they admit each
other to intimacy nor become friends before each
appears to the other worthy of his friendship, and
his confidence. Those who hastily perform offices of 10.
friendship to one another are willing to be friends,

but are not really so unless they are also worthy
of friendship, and are aware of this ; for a wish for
friendship is formed quickly, but not friendship.

This species of friendsliip, therefore, both with respect
to time and everything else, is perfect, and in all
respects the same and like good offices are inter-
changed ; and this is precisely what ought to be the
case between friends.

CHAP. IV.

That the Good are Friends absolutely, but all others
accidentally.

Friendship for the sake of the pleasant bears a l.

resemblance to this, for the good are pleasant to

one another; so also that which is for the sake of

the useful, for the good are useful to one another.

Between these persons friendships are most perma- 2.

nent when there is the same return from both to Equality

causes pen

i Verumqu^ illud est quod dicitur multos modios salis manencs.
simul edendos esse, ut amicitse munus expletum sit.—Cic.

L'<el. xix.

yARISTOTLE'S	[book vui*

both, for instance, of pleasure. And not only so,
but a return from tlie same cause, for instance, in
the case of two persons of easy pleasantry ; and not
as in the case of the lover and the person beloved,
for these do not feel pleasure in the same things, but
Friendship "the one in seeing the beloved object, and the other
between in receiving attention from the lover; but when the
lovers not bloom of youth ceases, sometimes the friendship
permanent. ceases alSOj for the sight of the beloved object is
no. longer pleasant to the one, and the other does
not receive attention; many, however, continue
friends if from long acquaintance they love the cha-
racter, being themselves of the same character.

3.	Those who in love affairs do not interchange
the pleasant but the useful are both friends in a less
degree, and less permanently; but those who are
friends for the sake of the useful dissolve their
friendship when that ends; for they were not friends
to one another but to the useful.

4.	Consequently, for the sake of pleasure and the
Between useful, it is possible for the bad to be friends with
ma"31^ ^16ie one mother, and the good with the bad, and one
friendships w^° neither good nor bad with either; but for
did rd xph- sake of one another, evidently only the good can
r.rifiov and be friends, for the bad feel no pleasure in the per-
sia to sons themselves, unless so far as there is some ad-
r'0v' 5 vantage. The friendship of the good is alone safe
Friendship' from calumny, for it is not easy to believe any one
of the good respecting one who has been proved by ourselves
alone safe during a long space of time; and between such per-
from ca- sons there is confidence and a certainty that one's

friend would never have done wrong/ and every-

5.	thing else which is expected in real friendship. In
the other kinds of friendships there is nothing to
hinder such things from occurring , consequently,
since men call those friends who are so for the sake
of the useful, just as states do (for alliances seem
to be formed between states for the sake of advan-

r Nunquam Scipionem, ne minima quidem re offendi, quod
quidem seuserim; nihil audivi ex eo ipse, quod nollem.-—Cic.
lift!, xxvii •CHAP. 7.]

ETHICS.

211

tage), and also those who love one another for the
sai^e of pleasure, as children do, perhaps we also
ought to say that such men are friends, but that
there are many kinds of friendship ; first and prin-
cipally, that of the good so far forth as they are
good, and the others from their resemblance; for
so far forth as there is something good or simi-
larity of character, so far they are friends; for tJae
pleasant is a kind of good to those who love the
pleasant.

These two latter kinds do not combine well, nor 7.
do the same people become friends for the sake of
the useful and the pleasant; for two things which
are accidental do not easily combine. Friendship,
therefore, being divided into these kinds, the bad
will be friends for the sake of the pleasant and the
useful, being similar in that respect; but the good
will be friends for the friends' sake, for they will be
so, so far forth as they are good; the latter, there-
fore, are friends absolutely, the former accidentally,
and from their resemblance to the latter.

CHAP. Y.

Certain other distinctive Marks which belong to the
Friendship of the Good.

As in the case of the virtues some are called good 1.
according to the habit, others according to the Difference
energy of it,s so is it also in the case of friendships; J^^een
for some take pleasure in each other, and mutually g^g^f
confer benefits by living together; but others being friendsw|
asleep or locally separated, do not act, but are in a
state so as to act in a friendly manner; for difference
of place does not absolutely dissolve friendship, but
only the exercise of it. But if the absence is long, it g,

8 Fritzsch compares s%iq (habit) with the German das Ver-
halten, and ivspytia (energy) with die Verwirklichung, Wirk
lichkei*212

ARISTOTLE'S	[book rm.

seems to produce a cessation of friendship; and
hence it has been said,

" Want of intercourse has dissolved many friendships.''
But the aged and the morose do not appear suited
for friendship, for the feeling of pleasure is weak
in them, and no one can pass his time with that
which is painful or not pleasant, for nature is espe-
cially shown in avoiding what is painful and desir-

3.	ing what is pleasant. But those who approve of one
Without another, without living together, seem rather well
intercourse inc^ne(j than friends, for nothing is so characteristic

it U0COIH0S

ivvoia.	friendship as the living together ; for the needy-

desire assistance, and the happy wish to pass their
time together, since it least of all becomes them to
be solitary. But it is impossible for men to asso-
ciate together if they are not pleasant, and if they
do not take pleasure in the same things; which seems
to be the case with the friendship of companions.1

4.	The friendship of the good, then, is friendship in
the highest degree, as has been said frequently; for
that which is absolutely good or pleasant is thought
to be an object of love and eligible, and to each
individual that which is so to him ; but the good
man is an object of love and eligible to the good,

Difference for both these reasons. Fondness11 is like a pas-
between sion, and friendship like a habit; for fondness is
tyikrjciQ and no less towards inanimate things, but we re-
ia' turn friendship with deliberate choice, and deliberate
choice proceeds from habit. "We also wish good to
those whom we love for their sakes, not from pas-
sion but from habit; and when we love a friend,
we love that which is good to ourselves; for the
good man, when he becomes a friend, becomes a good
to him whose friend he is. Each, therefore, loves
that which is good to himself, and makes an equal
return both in wish and in kincl for equality is said

1 By eraipticri <pi\ia Aristotle means that intimacy which
exists between those who have grown up together, and been
accustomed to each other's society from boyhood.

* Amor, ex quo amicitia nominatur, est ad benevoientiam
jungendam.—Cic. Lael. viii.chap. vi.]

ETHICS.

213

proverbially go be friendship.7 These conditions,
therefore, exist mostly in the friendship of the
good.

CHAP. YI.

Certain other distinctive marks which belong to Friendship.

In the morose and the aged friendship less frequently 1.

arises, inasmuch as they are more ill-tempered, and men do
take less pleasure in society; for good-temper and formfriend-
sociality seem to belong to friendship, and to pro- ships.

duce it in the greatest degree. Therefore young
men become friends quickly, but old men do not;

for they never become friends of those in whom
they do not take pleasure ; nor in like manner do
the morose. But such men as these have good-will 2.

towards one another ; for they wish what is good,
and supply each other's wants; but they are not
friends at all, because they do not pass their time
together, nor take pleasure in each other; and
these conditions are thought especially to belong to
friendship.

To be friends with many, is impossible in per- 3.

feet friendship j just as it is to be in love with many True friend,
at once; for love appears to be an excess; and such slliP wirh
a feeling is naturally entertained towards one db-
ject. And that many at once should greatly please
the same person is not easy, and perhaps it is not
easy to,find many persons at once who are good.

They must also become acquainted with one another,

and be on intimate terms, which is very difficult.

For the sake of the useful and the pleasant, it is
possible to please many; for many are of that cha-
racter, and the services required are performed in a
short time. Of these, that which is for the sake of 4.
the pleasant is most like friendship, when the same Friendship
T See Milton's Par. Lost, viii. 333 :—	of-he\oung

" Among unequals what society

Can sort, what harmony, or true delight214

ARISTOTLE'S

Tbook Vlli,

good offices are done oy both, and they take pleasure
in one another, or in the same things ; of which
description are the friendships of the young ; for
Of trades- there is more liberality in them. That which is for
men. the sake of the useful, is the friendship of tradesmen.

5.	The happy do not want useful but pleasant friends,
Of the for they wish to have some persons to live with ;
happy. and they bear anything painful for a short time

only; nor could any one bear it constantly, not even
good itself, if it were painful to him; hence they
seek for pleasant friends. Perhaps also they ought
to seek such as are good, and good also to them-
selves : for thus they will have all that friends
ought to have.

6.	Those who are in authority seem to make use
Of men in 0f different kinds of friends; for some are useful to
powei. them, and others pleasant; but the same men are

not generally both; for they do not seek for friends
who are pleasant and good as well, nor such as
are useful for honourable purposes : but they wish
for , men of wit, when they desire the pleasant, and
they wish for clever men to execute their com-
mands : and these qualities are not generally
united in the same person. But we have said
that the good man is at once pleasant and useful;
but such a character does not become the friend of
a superior, unless the latter is surpassed by the
former in virtue ; otherwise the person who is infe-
rior in power, does not make a proportionate return;
but such men are not usually found.

7# All the friendships, therefore, which have been
mentioned consist in equality : for the same things
result from both parties, and they wish the same
things to each other; or else they exchange one thing
for another, such as pleasure for profit. But that
these friendships are less strong and less permanent
has been mentioned , they seem also from their simi-
larity and dissimilarity to the same thing to be, and
yet not to be, friendships; for from their resem-
blance to that which is formed for virtue's sake, they
appear friendships ; since one contains the pleasant,chap. vii ]

ETHICS.

215

and the other the useful, and both of these exist in
the former also. But from the former being free
from complaints, and lasting, whereas these rapidly
change, and differ in many other respects, they
appear not to be friendships, from theii want of
resemblance to true friendship.

CHAP. VII.

Respecting Friendship between Persons who are Unequal.

There is another species of friendship, where one 1.

of the parties is superior; as that of a father for fM*
his son, and generally an older for a younger per- v7ref>0xriv-
son, and a husband for his wife, and a governor for
the governed. But these differ from one another ;

for the case is not the same between parents and
children, as between governors and the governed ;

nor is the feeling of a father for his son the same
as that of a son for his father, nor of a husband for
his wife, as of a wife for her husband ; for the per-
fection and office of each of these is different; there-
fore the motives of their friendship are different.

' Consequently their affections and their friendships
themselves are different; hence the same offices are
not performed by each to the other, nor ought they
to be required. But when children pay to their 2.

parents what is due to those who begat them, and
parents to their children what is due to them, the
friendship in such cases is lasting and sincere. But
in all friendships, where one party is superior, the
affection also ought to be proportionate; as, for
example, that the better person should be loved in
a greater degree than he loves, so also the more use- There will
fill person, and in like manner in every other case. be equal) ty
For when the affection is proportional, then there
is in a manner an equality; which seems to be the propor" **
property of friendship.	tional.

The equal does not seem to be the same in justice216

ARISTOTLE'S

[book viti.

as in friendship , for equality in proportion to merit
holds the first place in justice, and equality as to
quantity the second ; but in friendship, that which
relates to quantity is first, and that wliich relates
to merit is second. This is evident, if there is a
great distance between the parties in virtue, or
vice or wealth, or anything else : for they are then
no longer friends, and they do not even expect it.

4.	This is most evident in the case of the gods ; for
they are most superior in all goods: it is also evident
in the case of kings; for they who are very infe-
rior do not presume to be friends with them ; nor
do the worthless presume to be so with the best or
wisest men. In the case of such persons as these,
there can be no exact definition how far they may
be friends ; for though we may take away much from
one party, still the friendship continues; but when
one is very far removed from the other, as from a

5.	god, it continues no longer. Hence also a question
Whether arises whether friends wish their friends the greatest
men wish g00ClSj for instance, that they should become gods :
B^ood™ S ^or then they would no longer be their friends ; and

therefore they would not be goods to them : for
friends are goods. If, therefore, it has been rightly
said, that a friend wishes his friend good for that
friend's sake, he ought to continue, relatively to
that friend, the same as he was before. He will,
therefore, wish him to have the greatest goods which
he can have being a man : though perhaps not
every good ; for each wishes goods for himself more
. than to any one else.w

w Great difference of opinion exists amongst commentators
as to the way in which this passage ought to be translated ;
the following paraphrase will explain that translation which
appears to me the only one consistent with the argument,
and at the same time grammatical. If a friend wished his
friend to become a god, he would be wishing him to be so far
removed as that he would cease to be a friend. Consequently,
as friends are goods, in wishing such change of circumstances
as would deprive him of his friendship, he is really wishing to
deprive his friend ot a good. Now, if a friend wishes good to
bis friend for that friend's sake, of course he will not wish their
relative position to be altered in such a way as to put an end taohap. viii.j

ETHICS.

CH AP. VIII.

That Friendship seems to consist in loving more than in
being loved.

Most men, from the love of honour, are thought to 1.

wish to be loved, rather than to love ; therefore the Most men,
generality are fond of flattery ; for the flatterer is [rom tJieu
an inferior friend, or pretends to be so, and to love
rather than to be loved : and being loved seems wish to
to bear a close resemblance to being honoured, of be loved
which most men are desirous. They do not, how- rather tiiaE
ever, seem to choose honour for its own sake, butt0 love*
accidentally ; for the generality delight in being
honoured by those in power, because of hope ; for
they think that they shall obtain from them what-
ever they want. Thus they delight in honour, as a
sign of future favours. But those who are desirous 3.
of receiving honour from good men and men who
know their worth, are anxious to confirm their own
opinion of themselves: thus they delight in the idea
that they are good, trusting to the judgment of those
wilo say so. But they delight in being loved for its
own sake ; therefore to be loved might seem to be
better than to be honoured, and friendship might
seem eligible for its own sake.

But it really seems to consist in loving, rather 4.

than being loved. A proof of this is, that mothers ^enc^ *
delight in loving; for some give their children to be sjst^ more
nursed, and, knowing that they are their children, in loving,
love them, though they do not seek to be loved in than being
return, if both cannot be ; but it seems sufficient to k>ved* Mo"
them if they see them doing well: and they love their pr^f of
children, even if the latter, from ignorance, cannot this.

repay to their mother what is due. But since friend- 5.

ship consists more in loving, and those who love their J*\ree con-
friends are praised, to love seems to be the excel-	°

their friendship. He would, therefore, only wish his friend ^enas^P'
such goods as are consistent with his friend remaining a man.213

ARISTOTLE'S

[BOOK VIII.

ence of friends. So tliat the parties between whom
this takes place proportionately are lasting friends,
and the friendship of such is lasting. In this
manner those who are unequal, may also be the
greatest friends ; for they may be equalized. But
equality and similarity constitute friendship, and
particularly the similarity of those who are alike
with respect to virtue ; for as they possess stability
in themselves, they also possess the same towards
each other, and neither ask nor render base services,
but, so to speak, they even prevent it: for it is the
characteristic of the good neither to commit faults
themselves, nor to suffer their friends to commit
them. The wicked have no stability; for they
do not continue consistent even with themselves ;
but they become friends for a short time, taking
delight in each other's wickedness. The useful and
the pleasant continue friends longer than these ; for
they continue as long as they furnish pleasure and
profit to one another.

7. The friendship which is for the sake of the useful
Friendship appears generally to be formed out of opposite el'e-
cidro ments ; for instance, it arises between a poor man
Sstschiefly an(^ a one> an uneducated and a learned man ;
between for whatever a needy person wants, being desirous
opposites. of that, he gives something else in return. Under
this head one might bring the lover and the beloved,
the beautiful and the ugly. Hence, also, lovers some-
times appear ridiculous if they expect to be loved as
much as they love : when they are equally suitable
objects of love, they may perhaps expect it; but when
they possess no qualification of the kind, it is ridi-
9, culous. But perhaps the opposite never desires its
opposite for its own sake, but accidentally; and the
desire is for the mean, for that is a good : for exam-
ple, what is dry desires not to become moist, but to
arrive at the mean ; so also what is warm, and
everything else in the same way. Let us, however,
leave these considerations as foreign to our pur*
pose-CHAP. XX. j

ETHICS.

CHAP. IX.

Respecting Political or Social Friendship,

Friendship and the just appear, as was said at first, l.

to be conversant with the same things, and between In every

the same persons : for in every community there community

•	•	•	•	there is ft

seems to exist some kind of just and some kind of friendship.

friendship. Thus soldiers and sailors call their com-
rades friends, and so likewise those who are asso-
ciated in any other way. But as far as they have
anything in common, so far there is friendship ; for
so far also there is the just. And the proverb, that
the property of friends is common, is correct; for
friendship consists in community : and to brothers
and companions all things are common ;x but to
others, certain definite things, to some more, to
others less; for some friendships are stronger, and
others weaker.

There is also a difference in the just; for it is 2.

not the same between parents and children as
between brothers ; nor between companions as be- ^se^the
tween citizens; and so on in every other friend- same.

ship. Acts of injustice, therefore, are different be-
tween each of these, and are aggravated by being
committed against greater friends ; for instance, it
is more shameful to rob a companion of money than
a fellow-citizen, and not to assist a brother than a
stranger, and to strike one's father than any one
else. It is the nature of the just to increase together
with friendship, as they are between the same par-
ties, and of equal extent. All communities seem 3.

like parts of the political community; for men unite All com-
together for some advantage, and to provide them- munities arc
selves with some of the things needful for life. Po-
litical community seems also originally to have been P° 1 c *

x In the same way the early Christian brotherhood had all
things in common.220

ARISTOTLE'S	[book vizi.

forme and still to continue, for tlie sake of ad-
vantage ; for legislators aim at this, and say tliat
what is expedient to the community is just.

4 ISTow all other communities desire advantage in
particular cases ; as, for example, sailors desire that
for which they make their voyage,—money, for in-
stance, or something of that kind; soldiers that
which belongs to war,—either money, or victory, or
the taking of a city ; and in like manner people of
the same tribe and borough seek each their own
advantage. Some communities seem to have been
formed for the sake of pleasure; such as bacchanalian
revels and clubs : for these were formed for the

5, sake of sacrifice and associating togetherJ All these
seem to be included under the social community;
for this does not aim at mere present expediency, but
at that which influences the whole of life ; hence
sacrifices are instituted and honours paid to the gods
in such assemblies, and men are themselves furnished
with opportunities of pleasant relaxation; for the
ancient sacrifices and general meetings seem to have
been held as first-fruits after the gathering in of
harvest; for the people had most leisure at that time.
All communities, therefore, seem to be parts of the
political community ; and similar friendships will
accompany such communities.

CHAP. X.

Of the three forms of Civil Government, and the Deflections
from them.

1. There are three forms of civil government,2 and as
noX(re..i« many deflections, which are, as it were, corruptions

y Compare Hor. Ep. II. i. 139.

* If this chapter is compared with the eighth chapter of the
first book of the Rhetoric, it will be found that this subject is
treated more scientifically and with greater accuracy in the
Ethics than in the Rhetoric. The reason of this evidently is.

are,CHAP. X.]

ETHICS.

221

of them. Tlie former are, Mona thy, Aristocracy, Monarchy,
and a third, on the principle of property, which it Aristo-
seems appropriate to call a Timocracy; "but the cracy.
generality are accustomed to apply the term'*' polity" Timocracy.
exclusively to this last. Of these, monarchy is the
best, and timocracy the worst. The deflection from 2.
monarchy is tyranny ; for both are monarchies : Tyranny,
but there is the greatest difference between them;

for the tyrant looks to his own benefit, the king to
that of his subjects ; for he is not a king who is not
independent, and who does not abound in all goods ;

but such an one as this wants nothing else; and
consequently he would not be considering what is
beneficial to himself, but to his subjects; for he
that does not act so, must be a mere king chosen
by lot.aa Bat tyranny is the opposite to this ; for a
tyrant pursues his own peculiar good. And it is 3.

more evident on this ground, that it is the worst
form of all; for that is worst, which is opposite to
the best. But the transition from kingly power
is to tyranny; for tyranny is a corruption of mo-
narchy, and a bad king becomes a tyrant.

The transition from aristocracy is to oligarchy, 4.

through the wickedness of those in power, who dis- Oligarchy,
tribute the offices of the state without reference to
merit, give all or most good things to themselves,

and the offices of state constantly to the same people,

setting the highest value upon wealth: conse-
quently a few only are in power, and the bad instead
of the best. The transition from timocracy is to 5.
democracy ; for they border upon one another, since Democracy,
a timocracy naturally inclines to be in the hands of

that a discussion on the different forms of government forn*s
an essential part of the former treatise; whereas it only be-
longs accidentally to the latter. It is only necessary for the
orator to know the nature and principles of government as
they are found practically to exist. The Ethical student, on
the contrary, should know what they ought to be in theory as
well as what they really are in their practical developments.

These considerations will account for the different modes of
treatment which Aristotle has adop^d in his two treatises.

** That is, a king who owes his idgnity to his good fortune,

«nd not to any merits of his own.222

ARISTOTLE'S

[book viii.

the multitude, and all who are in the same class as
to property are equal. But democracy is the least
vicious, for its constitutional principles are but
slightly changed. Such, then, are the principal
changes in. forms of government; for thus they
change the least and in the most natural manner.

6.	One may find resemblances, and as it were, ex-
Analogy amples of these, even in private families; for the
vernment°" re^a^on a father to his sons wears the form of
in a state, monarchy: for the father takes care of the chil-
and govern- dren. Hence, also, Homer calls Jupiter father ;bb
ment in a for the meaning of a kingdom is a paternal govern-
family. ment. But in Persia the authority of a father is

tyrannical, for they use their sons like slaves.

7.	The authority of a master over his slaves is also
tyrannical; for in that the benefit of the master is
consulted. This, therefore, appears right, but that
of the Persians is wrong; for the power of those
who are in different circumstances ought to be
different. The relation of a man to his wife
seems to be aristocratical; for the husband go-
verns because it is his due, and in those things
which a husband ought; and whatever is suitable
for the wife he gives up to her. When the husband
lords it over everything, it changes into an oli-
garchy ; for he does this beyond what is his right,
and not only so far forth as he is superior But
sometimes women, when they are heiresses, govern.
Thus they govern not according to merit, but
because of wealth and influence, as in oligarchies.

8.	The relation which subsists between brothers is like
Timocracy, a timocracy; for they are equal; except so far as
brothers. they differ in age. Therefore, if there is a great

disparity in their ages, the friendship is no longer
Democracy, like that of brothers. A democracy takes place
mostly, in families where there is no master (for
u	there all are equal); and wherever the ruler is

is ho illas-	>''

ter.	weak, and each member acts as he likes.

bb Tlar^p avdp&v re Se&v re,—" Father of gods and men "
—Horn, passim.cha* xi,]

ETHICS.

CHAP. XI.

Of the friendship which exists under each form of
Government.

In each of these forms of government there is 1«
evidently a friendship, coextensive wlbh " the just"

in each.CG Friendship between a king and his sub- g0vernmen.
jeets consists in conferring superior benefits ; for there is a
he does good to his subjects, if he is good and takes friendship,
care of them, that they may be well off, as a shep-
herd takes care of his sheep ;dd whence also Homer
calls Agamemnon " the shepherd of the people."

Such also is paternal friendship ; but it exceeds the
former in the greatness of the benefits which it
confers; for the father is the cause of the son's
existence, which is esteemed the greatest thing,

and also of food and of education. The same things 2
are also ascribed to ancestors; for a father is by
nature the governor of his sons, and ancestors of
their descendants, and a king of his subjects. These
friendships imply superiority; whence also parents
receive honour; therefore also the just is not the
same between the two parties, but according to
proportion ; for thus also must the friendship be.

Between husband and wife there is the same 3.
friendship as in an aristocracy ; for their relation is
according to merit, an.1 the greater is given to the
better * person, and to each that which is suitable.

The just also subsists between them in the same
way. The friendship of brothers is like the friend-
ship of companions ; for they are equal and of the
same age; and such persons generally have the

cc Wherever the expression " the just" occurs, it must be
remembered that its signification is 14 the abstract principle of
justice."

dd The Christian student need not be reminded how often
this metaphor is made use of in Holy Scripture to describe the
relation in which ou^ heavenly King stands to his kingdom the
(Jhnrcn.224

ARISTOTLE'S

[bo k ntu

4# same feelings aJtvi tlie same moral character. The
friendship of a timocracy is therefore like this ,
for citizens think themselves equal and equitable ;
consequently, the government is held by all in

5-	turn, and equally. The friendship also in a fcimo-
tbere^no ^ crac3r *s the same kind But in the deflections,
friendship. as there is but little of " the just," so also there is

but little friendship, and least of all in the worst.
For in a tyranny there is no friendship, or very
little; for between those parties, where the ruler
and the ruled have nothing in common, there is no

6-	friendship ; for there is no principle of justice. The
case, in fact, is the same as between a workman and
his tool, the soul and the body, a master and his
slave; for all these are benefited by the users. But
there is no friendship nor justice towards inani-
mate things, neither is there towards a horse or ail
ox, nor towards a slave, so far forth as he is a slave ;
for there is nothing in common; since a slave is an
animated tool, and a tool is an inanimate slave.

7. So far forth, therefore, as he is a slave, there is
no friendship towards him, but only so far forth
as he is a man; for it is thought that there is
some sort of justice between every man, and every
one who is able to participate in a law and a con-
tract ; and therefore that there is some sort of
In demo- friendship so far forth as he is a man. Hence friend-

often fund	anc^ ^e iust exis"fc but to a small extent in

en oun .	governments ; but in democracies they are

found to a considerable extent; for there are many
things in common to those who are equal

CHAP. XII.

Of ike friendship which subsists between companions zud
relations and the members of a family.

L The essence, therefore, of every friendship is com
munity, as has been said already; but one might,
perhaps, make an exncnfcion in the case of thatCHAP, xi;.]

ETHICS.

225

between relations and of that between companions.
The friendships between citizens and fellow-tribes-
men, and fellow-sailors, and such like, more resemble
those which depend upon community; for they
seem as it were to exist in accordance with some
agreement. Amongst these also one might classify
the friendship of hospitality. That also between
relations seems to have many forms, and to depend
entirely upon the paternal friendship. Parents love 2.

their children as being a part of themselves ; chil- The love ca
dren love their parents as being themselves some- Parents«
thing which owes its existence to them. Now,

parents know their offspring better than the off-
spring knows that it comes from them; and the
original cause is more intimately connected with
the thing produced, than the thing produced is
with that which produced it; for that which pro-
ceeds from a thing, belongs to the thing from which
it proceeded, as a tooth, or hair, or anything what-
soever, belongs to the possessor of it; but the origi-
nal cause does not at all belong to what proceeds
from it, or, at least, it belongs in a less degree.
On account of its duration, also, the love of parents 3.

exceeds that of children ; for the former love them
as soon as ever they are born; but the latter
love their parents in process of time, when they
have acquired intelligence or perception : from this,

also, it is evident why mothers feel greater love
than fathers.

Parents then love their children as themselves; 4.

for that which proceeds from them, becomes by the
separation like another self; but children love
their parents, as being sprung from them. Bro- 5.

thers love one another, owing to their being sprung Of bro«
from the same parents : for identity with the t*iers*
latter produces identity with each other. "Whence
the expressions, " the same blood," " the same
root," and so on. They are, therefore, in some sense
the same, even though the individuals are distinct.

The being educated together, and being of the same
age, greatly contributes to friendship ; for men like
Q228

ARISTOTLE'S	[book vui.

tliose of their own age, and those of the same charac-
ter are companions. Hence also the friendship of'
brothers resembles that of companions. The friend-
ship between cousins and. otner relations is owing to
the same cause ; for it is owing to their being sprung
from the same stock ; some are more, others less
warmly attached, according as the parent stock is

6.	nearer or further off. The friendship which chil-
Of children dren feel towards parents, and men towards gods, is
rentTandof as ^ were towards something good and superior;
men to- f°r they have conferred on them the greatest bene-
wards the fits ; since they are the cause of existence and of
gods. support, and of education when brought into exist-
ence. Such a friendship as this involves pleasure and
profit, more than that between strangers, inasmuch
as they live more together. There is contained also in
the friendship between brothers, all that is in that
between companions ; and more so between the
good, and in general between those who are alike,
inasmuch as they are more connected, and love one
another immediately from their birth; and inas-
much as those are more similar in disposition, who
come from the same stock, and have been nurtured
together, and educated similarly; and the trial,
which is the result of time, is here the longest and
most certain.

7.	The duties of friendship are analogous in all other
Ofhusband relationships. Between husband and wife, friend-
arid wife, js thought to exist by nature ; for man is by

nature a being inclined to live in pairs rather than in
societies, inasmuch as a family is prior in point of
time and more necessary than a state, and procrea-
tion is more common to him, together with animals.ce

ee Nam quum sit hoc natura commune animantium, ut
habeant libidinem procreandi, prima societas in ipso conjugio
est; proxima in liberis : deinde una domus, communia omnia.
—Cic. de Off. I. From this chapter, as well as from what
Aristotle afterwards says of self-love, we may see how clear an
idea he entertained of the progressive and gradually expansive
nature of human sympathies. Their source he held to be a
reasonable self-love, their simi lest and earliest development
conjugal affection; they next 3mbrace within their spheraCHAP, xiri.]

ETHICS.

227

To otlier animals, therefore, community proceeds
thus far only ; but human beings associate not only
for the sake of procreation, but for the affairs of
life ; for the duties of husband and wife are distinct
from the very first, and different. They, therefore,

assist one another, throwing into the common stock
their private resources. For this reason, also, the
■useful and the pleasant are thought to exist in this
friendship : it may also be formed for virtue's sake,

if they are good ; for there is a virtue of each, and
they may take delight in this. But children are 8.
thought to be a bond; and therefore those who have Children a
no children sooner separate ; for children are a k°nd
common good to both; and that which is common
is a bond of union.- But the inquiry how a man
is to live with his wife, and, in short, a friend with
his friend, is plainly in no respect different from
the inquiry, how it is just that they should : for the
case is evidently not the same between friends,
as between strangers, companions, and fellow-tra-
vellers.

CHAP. XIII.

Of the disputes which arise in friendships formed for the
sake of utility.

Since there are three kinds of friendship, as was 1
said at the beginning of the book, and since in each
of them some are friends on an equality, and others
are in the relation of superiors to inferiors; (for

parents, children, kindred, and the whole circle of our domes-
tic relations ; and, still extending, include all who are natives
of the same country with ourselves. And when we find that
he considered that even a slave, so far forth as he is a man, .is
not without the pale of friendly regards, it is not improbable
that, though the men of his &ge were not capable of such
liberal philanthropy, still the philosopher could imagine the
existence of a brotherly kindness and affection wide enough to
comprehend the whole society of the human race.

Q 2228

ARISTOTLE'S > [book VIII.

tlie good become friends, and the better become
lriands with, the worse : as also do the pleasant, and
those who are friends for the sake of the useful,
forming an equality by mutual benefits, although
they differ:) those who are equal ought to main-
tain their equality, by equality in their love and
everything else; and the unequal should be friends,

2.	by one making a return proportionate to the supe-

i>ompaints riority of the other party. Accusations and com-

nrise almost piain-fcs arise in the friendship for the sake of the
exclusively	♦

in friend- useful, and in that only, or mostly so, as might be
smp Sid to expected ; for those who are friends for virtue's
tprjcrifxov. Sake, are anxious to benefit each other; for such is
the property of virtue and friendship ; and when
they are struggling for this, there are no com-
plaints or quarrels; for no one dislikes one who
loves and benefits him ; but if he is a man of
refinement, he returns the kindness. And he who
is superior to the other, since he obtains what he
wants, cannot complain of his friend; for each is
aiming at the good.

3.	Nor do they arise at all in friendships formed
for the sake of pleasure ; for both parties obtain at
once what they want, if they take pleasure in
Miring together; and he would appear ridiculous,
who complained of another not giving him plea-
sure, when it is in his power to cease to live with

4.	him. But the friendship for the sake of the useful
is fruitful in complaints; for since each makes use
of the other for his own benefit, they are con-
stantly wanting the greater share, and think that
they have less than their due, and complain that
they do not receive as much as they want, although
they i^sGrve it; and those who confer benefits can-
not assist them as much as the receivers require.

5.	But it seems that, in like manner as the just is
Friendship twofold (for one kind is unwritten and one accord-
ed to ing to law), so also the friendship for the sake of the
h^ofold is partly moral and partly legal. Now com-
Legai. ' plaints arise chiefly when men do not make a return

in t'ie same kind of friendship which they formedCHAP. X1IT.]

ETHICS.

m

at first; now legal friendship is upon settle 1 terms.

one kind of it altogether mercenary, from iiand to
hand ; the other kind more liberal, as it allows time,

out it is still settled by mutual consent what return
*s to be made : in this kind the obligation is evi-
dent, and does not admit of dispute, but it allows a
friendly delay in the payment; hence in some
countries there are no actions at law allowed in
these cases, but it is thought that those who have
made any contract upon the faith of another, should
be satisfied with that.

Moral friendship is not upon settled terms, but 6.'

each party gives, or does anything else to the other Moral,
as to a friend. But he expects to receive what is
equal, or more, as if he had not given, but lent;

and if the contract is not fulfilled 011 the terms or
in the manner in which he made it, he will com-
plain. This happens because all, or the greatest
number, wish what is honourable; but upon deli-
beration they choose what is profitable : now it is
honourable to confer benefits, not with the inten-
tion of receiving again; but it is profitable to receive
benefits. He, therefore, who is able, must return 7.
the value of what he has received, and that volun- The duty oj
tarily: for we must not make a man our friend
against his will, but we must act as if we had made a re-
a mistake at the beginning, and as if we had turn,
received a kindness from one, from whom we
ought not; for we have not received it from a
friend, nor from one who conferred it for the sake
of friendship : we must therefore repay it, as much
as if we had received the benefit upon settled
terms ; and a man would be ready, if he had the
means, to repay the kindness; and if he had not,

the giver would not even expect it. So that if he
is able, he must repay it : but he should consider
at first by whom he is benefited, a*id upon what
terms, in order that he may or not submit to the
obligation on these terms,

But it admits of a question, whether we ought tQ
to measure the return by the benefit done to the measurethe230

ARISTOTLE'S	[book viil

value of the receiver, and make it according to that; or by the
favour con- kindness of him who confers it. For the receivers
ferred. say that they have received such things from those
who conferred them as were trifling to them, and
which they might have received from others, thus
depreciating the favour : the others, on the contrary,
say that they were the greatest favours they had to
bestow, and favours which could not have been re-
ceived from any others, and that they were conferred
9. in time of danger, or such like exigencies. Is not,
therefore, the benefit of the receiver the measure in
* friendship for the sake of the useful1? for he is
the person in want, and the other assists him, as if
hereafter to receive an equivalent: the assistance
therefore is as great as the benefit which the other
receives : and consequently he must repay as much
as the fruit which he has reaped from it, or more;
In friend- that is more honourable. But in friendships
ship 81 Ape for the sake of virtue there are no complaints; and
ti)v, the the deliberate preference of the conferrer seems to
of thecorf ^e measure j for the essential part of virtue and
ferrer is the moral character consists in the deliberate pre-
measure. ference.

CHAP. XIY.

On the complaints which arise in unequal friendships.

\. Differences also arise in friendships where one
Complaints party is superior; for each expects to receive more :
shi TkgcO' anc^ w^en khi_s takes place, the friendship is dis-
vTrepoxvv. s°lved : f°r the superior thinks that it is his due to
have more, because more is assigned to the good
man ; and in like manner he thinks so who renders
the greater assistance ; for they say that an useless
person should not have an equal share, since it be-
comes a tax,ff and not friendship, if the fruits of the

ff The word here translated "tax" is in the original
Xurovpyia. The XtiTovpyiai were public burthens imposedCriA r, XIV.]

ETHICS

231

friendship are not in proportion to the good offices
done. For they think, that as in pecuniary part-
nerships those who contribute more, receive more,

so also it ought to be in friendship.

But the needy and the worse character argue 2.
the contrary way ; for they say, that it is the duty
of a good friend to assist the needy; for what ad-
vantage is there, they say, in being the friend of a
good or powerful man, if we are to reap no advan-
tage from it 1 Now, the claim of each party seems
to be right, and it seems that each ought to give
to each a greater share out of the friendship, but
not of the same thing : but the superior should
receive a greater share of honour, the needy a
greater share of gain; for honour is the reward of
virtue and kindness, and gain is an assistance to
indigence. The case also is evidently the same in 3.
political communities ; for he who confers no be- The rule
nefit on the community, is not honoured ; for that observed
which is public property is given to the public stat"s*
benefactor, and honour is public property. Now
we cannot receive both money and honour from
the public stock; for no one submits to a less
share of everything.^ Consequently to him. who
is content with less money, the state.gives honour ;

and to him who prefers gifts, money; for propor-
tion equalizes and preserves friendship, as has been
said.

On these terms, then, must the unequal asso- 4.

ciate ; and he, who has received benefit as regards A man
money or virtue, must make a return in the shape	^

of honour, repaying whatever he is able ; for friend- tl^rn ac_
ship requires what is possible, not what is exactly cording to
due ; this not being possible in every case, for his ability,
instance, in the honours paid to the gods and to
parents ; for no one can ever make an adequate-
return; but he, who pays attention to them to the

upon the richer citizens of Athens by way of taxation. See on
the subject, Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities, in loco.

And consequently the^ state would not submit to narfc
ndth ooth money and honour to the same individual.232	ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [book vm.

•

5# extent of his ability, is considered good. Hence
also it would be thought unlawful for a son to dis-
own his father, but lawful for a father to disown his
son: for he that is in debt, ought to pay ; but there
is nothing which a son can do equivalent to the be-
nefits received, so that he is always a debtor; and
creditors have power to send away their debtors ;

i. consequently a father has. At the same time per-
haps it would be thought that no father would
separate himself, unless the son were excessively
depraved ; for independently of the natural feeling
of affection, it is natural to man not to reject the
assistance which a son might afford ; nevertheless,
if the son is depraved, he would avoid assisting
his father, or at least would not be anxious to do
so. For most men wish to receive benefits, and
avoid conferring them, as unprofitable. Let ao
much then suffice on these matters.235

BOOK IX

CHAP. I.

Of what hind are the preservatives of Friendship

In all cases of dissimilara friendship, proportion 1.
equalizes and preserves tlie friendship, as has been <Pl^aL
stated; for example, in the political friendships, the ^re^re-
shoemaker receives a return for his shoes according served by
to their value, and the weaver, and every one else. avaXoyia*
In these instances a common measure is provided,

namely, money ; everything therefore is referred to
this, and is measured by it. In the friendship of 2.

love, the lover sometimes complains, that although Complaints
he loves exceedingly, he is not loved in return, ^
when it may happen that he possesses nothing causesv*1
which can be the object of love : and frequently
the person loved complains, that the other having
promised everything at first, now performs nothing.

Such cases as this occur, when the lover loves the
beloved object for pleasure's sake, and the latter
loves the former for the sake of the useful, and
these qualifications do not exist in both. For as 3.
the friendship was formed on these motives, a sepa-
ration takes place, as soon as ever they do not obtain
that for which they loved ; for it was not the per-
sons that they loved, but something belonging to
them, which is not permanent; and therefore the
friendships are not permanent. But a friendship
founded upon moral character, as it is felt for its
own sake, continues, as has been stated.

Differences also arise, when the parties receive 4*

some other thing than that of which they were de-

a In the Greek avojAoetdsai, dissimilar in species, that is,

when two parties become friends, each from a different motive.234

ARISTOTLE'S	[book ix.

sirous; for it is the same as getting nothing, when
they do not get what they desired. The case is like
that of him who made promises to the harper, and
the better he performed the more he promised ; and
when in the morning he claimed the performance
of these promises, he said he had repaid him
pleasure for pleasure.13 Now if each party had
wished this, it would have been sufficient; bu b if
the one wishes entertainment, the other gain, and
the one received what he wished, the other not,
the exchange cannot be fair. For each fixes his
mind on that which he happens to want, and for

5.	the sake of that will give what he does give. But

Sthe^alue W^° *s	va,^ue •	person who first

6va ue* gives ? or he who first receives 1 for he who gives,
seems to leave it to the other to fix the value :
which they say is what Protagoras did; for when
he gave any lessons, he ordered the learner to fix
how much he thought the knowledge was worth,
and so much he received. In such transactions,
some persons approve of the principle, " Let a
friend be content with a promised payment."—Hes.

6.	Op. et Di. v. 368. But those who receive the
money beforehand, and then perform none of their
promises, because they were so extravagant, are
with justice complained of; for they do not fulfil
their agreements. And tliis, perhaps, the So-
phists are obliged to do, because no one would
give a piece of silver for what they know. These,
therefore, because they do not perform that for
which they received pay, are justly complained of.

1* Whenever there is no agreement made about
the service performed, as has been stated, those
who confer a favour freely for the sake of the per-
sons themselves on whom they confer it, cannot com-

b The story to which Aristotle refers is thus related by
Plutarch. Dionysius, the tyrant, hearing a famous harper,
promised him a talent. The next day, when the harper de-
manded the performance of his promise, he replied, " Yesterday,
during the time that I was delighted with your singing, I
delighted you with hopes, so that you have receiver1 youi
reward,—delight for delight."CHAP. I.]

ETHICS.

235

plain ; for friendship -which is founded on ^ irtue is
of this kind. The return must be made aecordii g When no
to the deliberate intention ; for it is this which ?g^™eent
characterizes a friend and virtue. It seems also that ^eTretu'rr
those who have intercourse with one another in must be
philosophy must act thus; for the value of it is not /card
measured by money, and no equivalent price can be npoaipsv .
paid. But perhaps, as in the case of our duty to the
gods and our parents, that which is in our power is
sufficient.

"Where the act of giving is not of this kind, s<
but for the sake of something, perhaps it is best
that a return should be made, which seems to
both parties to be proportionate. If this cannot
be, it would seem not only necessary that he who
first receives should settle it, but also just: for in
proportion to the benefit which one received, or to
the cost at which he would have purchased the
pleasure, will be the equivalent which the other
ought to receive in return ; for in things bought
and sold this seems to be done : and in some places
there are laws forbidding suits upon voluntary con-
tracts ; as if it was right, when we have trusted any
one, to settle with him, as we dealt with him ori-
ginally : for they think that it is more just for him
to fix the value who was trusted, than for him
to do so who trusted him; for men do not in
general put the same value upon things which
they have received, as they did when they were
wishing to receive them ; for what belongs to us,
and what we give away, seems to each of us to
be very valuable. But, nevertheless, the return is How the
made with reference to such a standard of value as receiver i*
the receiver would fix : though, perhaps, he ought
not to value it at so much as it seems worth when
he has got it, but according what ha valved ;t at
before he g:,t it.236

ARISTOTLE'S	Tbook IX.

CHAP. II.

Of (asts of Relative Duties.

1.	Such questions as the following cause a difficulty ;c
Of the for instance, whether we ought to perform services
relative 0f every kind to our father, and obey him in every-

u ies. thing 1 or whether, when sick, we should obey a
physician, and choose a general on account of his
military skill 1 In the same manner must we serve
a friend rather than a good man 1 and must we
rather repay a favour to a benefactor than give to
a companion, supposing that we cannot do both 1

2.	To determine all these points accurately is not easy;
for they contain many and various differences as to
their being great or small, honourable or necessary.

We must But that we are not to bestow everything upon the
be just be- same person needs no proof: and, generally, we must
tore we are ra-Qier requite kindnesses, than give to compa-
nions, in the same manner as we ought rather xo
pay a debt to a creditor, than give to a companion.

3.	But perhaps this is not always the case : for in-
stance, must a person who has been ransomed from
robbers do the same in return to him who ransomed
him, whoever he may be 1 or should he repay him
though he has not been taken prisoner, but demands
payment as a debt ? or should he ransom his father
rather than the other ? for it would be thought that
he ought to lansom his father even in preference
to himself.

4.	As we stated, therefore, in general a debt should
be repaid : but if a gift surpasses a debt in being
honourable, or necessary, we should defer to this
consideration ; for sometimes the making a return
for a favour previously conferred is not even equal;

c In this chapter, says Michelet, we have the commence-
ment of those casuistical ethics, to which, first the Stoics,
afterwards the Jesuits, and lastly the German philosophers,
Kant and Fichte, were so strongly attached.CHAP. II.]

ETHICS.

237

when. for instance, the other conferred it, knowing
tha"* the person was good : but the latter has to
repay it to one whom he thinks wicked. For some- 5.

times a man must not lend in return to him who
lent to him ; for the latter, thinking that he should
be repaid, lent to him being a good man: but he
cannot hope to be repaid by a wicked man. If, then,
the circumstances are really such as I have stated,
the claim is not equal; or if they are not so really,

but the parties think that they are, it would not be
thought that they acted strangely. Therefore, as
we have frequently stated, assertions respecting
feelings and actions admit of exact definition only in
proportion to the object-matter.

Now that we must not perform the same service 6.
to everybody, nay, even not to our father, in
the same manner that we do not sacrifice every-
thing to Jupiter, is obvious. But since different We must
services are due to parents, and brothers, and com- render to
panions, and benefactors, we must give to each their ^etQe:r
own, and that which is suitable to them. In fact,
men seem to act in this way ; for they invite rela-
tions to marriages, since the family to which they
belong is common to them, and consequently acts
which have to do with the family ; and, for the
same reason, they think that it is more suitable for
relations than other persons to meet at funerals.

And it would seem that we ought to assist our 7.
parents, in preference to all other persons, in sup-
porting them; being, as it were, their debtors; and
that it is more honourable to assist the authors of
our existence in that respect than ourselves. We
should also give honour to our parents, as to the
gods ; but not every kind of honour; for we do not
give the same to father and mother : nor, again,

do we give a father the honour of the man of science,

or the general, but the honour of a father, and we
act in the same way in the case of a mother. We $,
should also give to every old man the honour be-
coming his age, by rising up in his presence, and
giving him the place of honour, and such like238

ARISTOTLE'S

[boor IX,

marks of respect. To companions and brothers we
should give liberty of speech, and a partnership in
everything we have. To our relations, and mem-
bers of the same tribe, and fellow-citizens, and
every one else, we should always endeavour to
give what belongs to them., and to compare the
claims of each with respect to relationship, or virtue,
or acquaintance. Now, between relations the de-
cision is easy; but between different people it is
more difficult: we should not, however, for that
reason, give up the attempt, but as far as it is possi-
ble distinguish between them.

CHAP. III.

On the cases in which Friendship may or may not be
dissolved.

Whether * ^HEKE a difficulty in the question, whether or
friendship no we should. dissolve friendship with those who do
may be no^ continue the same as they originally were. Is
dissolved there, then, in the case of those who became friends
when its on account of the useful or the pleasant, when they
motives a . no jonger p0ssess those qualities, nothing strange in
dissolving the connection 1 for they were friends
only for those qualities, upon the failure of which it
2. is natural to cease to feel friendship. But a man
might fairly complain if another, who loved him
really for the sake of the useful or the pleasant, pre-
tended that it was on account of his character ; for,
as we stated at first, most differences in friendships
arise when the parties are not friends on the ground
on which they think they are. "When, therefore, a
man is deceived, and has fancied that he was loved
for his character when the other did not at all act
as if it was so, he has himself to blame. But when
he is deceived by the profession of the other, he has
to complain of the deceiver, and even more so
than of those who counterfeit money, inasmuch aswHAP. III.]

ETHICS.

235

the crime is committed with regard to an object o^

greater price.

But if he admits him to his friendship, as being 3.
a good man, and then he becomes wicked, or is Jfa

turns out

thought to be so, must he still love him'? or is this wicked>
impossible, since not everything is an object of love,

but only the good? "We are not obliged, then, to
love a wicked man, nor ought we; for we must
not be lovers of wickedness, nor assimilate ourselves
to the bad : and it has been stated that like is
friendly to like.d Must we, then, immediately dis- 4-
solve the connection 1 or not with all, but only with
those who are incurable on account of their wicked-
ness 1 and should we not rather assist those who
admit of improvement in character than in property,
inasmuch as it is better, and belongs more peculiarly
to friendship'?6 But, still, he who dissolves the
friendship would not be thought to do anything
extraordinary; for it was not such an one as he,

that he was a friend to : when, therefore, he is
unable to recover the friend so estranged from him,
he withdraws.f

But if the one continues the same, while the other

If one r®*

d Dispares enim mores disparia studia sequuntur, quorum
dissimiiitudo dissociat amicitias; nec ob ullam aliam causam
boni Improbis, improbi bonis amiciessenon possunt, nisi quod
tanta est inter eos, quanta maxima potest esse, morum studio-
rumque distantia.—Cic. Lsel. xx.

e Primum danda opera est, nequa amicorum dissidia fiant;

sin tale aliquid evenerit, ut extinctse potius amicitise quam op-
pressse esse videantur.—Cic. Leel. xxi.

f Compare the Christian rule:—41 If thy brother trespass
against thee, rebuke him ; and if he repent, forgive him.

And if he trespass against thee seven times in a day, and
seven times in a day turn again to thee, saying, I repent; thou
shalt forgive him."—St. Luke, xvii. 3, 4. " Moreover, if
thy brother shah trespass against thee, go and tell him his
ftiult between thee and him alone ; if he shall hear thee, thou
hast gained thy brother. But if he will not hear thee, then
take with thee one or two more, that in the mouth of two oi
three witnesses every word may be established. And if he
shall neglect to hear them, tell it unto the church : but if he
neglect to hear the church, let him be unto thee as an heathen
man and a publican."—St. Matt.xviii. 15—17.240

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ix

mains the becomes better, and widely different in virtue, must
th^other^ la"^er s"till consider the former as liis friend % or
improves. *s no^ Possible 1 The case is plainest when the
difference becomes very great, as in friendships con-
tracted from childhood ; for if one continues a child
in intellect, and the other becomes a man of the
highest character, how can they be friends, when
they no longer take pleasure in the same things, nor
sympathize in joy and grief together ? for these feel-
ings will not exist in them towards each other. But
without these it has been stated that they could not
be friends; for it is impossible that they can live
together : and we have treated of all this already.

6. Must he, then, feel no otherwise towards him than
if he had never been his friend 1 or ought he to
remember their past intimacy, and just as we think
that a man should confer favours on friends rather
than on strangers, ought he in like manner to be-
stow something upon those who were his friends for
the sake of past friendship, when the separation does
not take place because of excessive wickedness 1

CHAP. IV.

That the Good Man is a Friend to himself, but the Bad Man
neither to himself nor others.

1. The feelings of friendship towards friends, and those

The feel- which distinguish the different kinds of friendship,

friendshi seem "t° he derived from the feelings of a man to-

are derived wards himself; for a friends is defined as being one

from the who wishes and does to another the good, or the appa-

feelings of rent good, for the other's sake : or, one who wishes

a good man frj,enc[ exist and to live for that friend's own
towards

himself.	g qUaiities which are popularly held to be the develop-

ments of friendship are beneficence, benevolence, and sym-
pathy ; these no one but a good mai. 3an entertain towards
himself. If, therefore, all feelings of friendship are derived
from the feelings of a man towards himself, none but the good
can be really friends ,-JHAP. IV. f

ETHiCS.

241

sake, which is tlie feeling of mothers towards their Various de-
children, and of those friends who have come into finitions of
collision. Others define a friend, one who passes his a frienr1,
time with, or chooses the same things, as another;

or, one who sympathizes in joy and sorrow with
his friend : this latter definition applies mostly to
the case of mothers. In some one of these ways all
men define friendship.11

Now each of these feelings exists in the good man 2.

towards himself; and in all others, so far forth as How the
they fancy themselves to be good ; for virtue and fs°^e^.g^
the virtuous man seem, as has been stated, to be towards
a standard to each ; since he agrees in opinion himself,
with himself, and desires the same things with aE
his soul. Hence, he wishes for himself what is
good, or what appears so, and practises it; for
it is characteristic of the good man to labour for
what is good, and for his own sake; for it is
for the sake of his intellectual part, which is
thought to constitute each man's self.1 Again, he 3.

wishes himself to live and be preserved, and parti-
cularly that part by which he thinks : for existence
is a good to the virtuous man: and each one wishes
good to himself; and no one, were he to become
another person, would wish his former self to possess
everything : for the Deity now possesses the chief
good; but he possesses it because he is what he
is. And the thinking principle—or at least that
rather than any other principle—must be taken to
be each man's self. Again, such a man wishes to 4.

pass his life with himself; for he does this pleasantly
to himself; since the recollection of the past is
pleasant, and the hopes of the future are good j but
such recollections and hopes are pleasant. More-
over, he has abundant subjects for his intellect to
contemplate. He also sympathizes most with him-
self in joys and sorrows; for the same thing is con-

h Compare Arist. Rhet. II. : also the saying of Tercnce,

(< Idem velle et idem nolle, ea demum firma est amicitia."

1 Thus Cicero (Somn. Scip. c. 8) writes : u Nec enim tu is
es, quem forma ista declarat: sed mens cujusque, is est

quisque ; non ea figura, quae digito demenstrari potest."

&242

ARISTOTLE'S	[book ix.

stantly painful or pleasant, and not sometimes one
tiling and sometimes another ; for he is without re-
A friend is pentance, if we may so speak.k Consequently, from
a second ^ie g00(J man having all these feelings towards
himself, and feeling towards his friend as he does
towards himself (for his friend is another self),
friendship also is thought to consist in some one ot
these feelings, and they are thought to be friends in
whom they reside.

6.	But as to the question whether there is or is not
friendship towards one's self, let it be dismissed for
the present. But friendship may be thought to
exist in this case, inasmuch as it is one in which
there are two or more of the above-mentioned qua-
lifications; and because excess of friendship seems

7.	to resemble that of a man towards himself. The
feelings spoken of, however, plainly exist in many,
although they are bad men. Do they, then, partake
of them so far as they are pleasing to themselves,
and suppose themselves to be good 1 for assuredly
they do not exist, nor even appear to exist, in any

True self- who are utterly bad and impious: indeed, they
love cannot scarcely exist in the bad at all; for the bad are at
men & var^ance with themselves; and they desire one thing,
but wish for another, as for example, the inconti-
nent ; for instead of what seems to them to be good,

8.	they choose the pleasant, which is hurtful. Others,
again, from cowardice and indolence, abstain from
doing what they think best for themselves. As for
those who have committed many atrocious crimes
through depravity, they hate and fly from life, and
destroy themselves.

The vicious, also, seek for persons with whom they
may pass their time, and fly from themselves; for
they call to mind many unpleasant subjects, and
expect others of the same kind when they are by
themselves; but when they are with others, they

k Chase compares to this passage, " God is not a man, that
he should lie ; neither the son of man, that he should repent."
—Numbers, xxiii. 19. Compare also, " Sapientis est pro-
priuin, nihil quod poenitere possit facere."—Cic. Tusc. v. 28.c1up. v.J

ETHICS.

243

forget them; and since they possess no amiable qua-
lities, they have no friendly feeling towards them-
selves. Therefore, such men do not sympathize &
with themselves in joy or sorrow ; for their soul is
divided, as it were, by faction, and one part from
depravity feels pain, because it abstains from some-
thing, while the other part feels pleasure; and one
draws him this way, another that, just as if they
were dragging him asunder. But though it is im-
possible to feel pain and pleasure at the same time,
yet after a little time he feels pain at having been
pleased, and wishes that these things had not been
pleasant to him; for bad men are fall of repent-
ance. It is plain, then, that the bad man has no
friendly disposition even to himself, because he has
in him nothing amiable. If, then, such a condition
as this is excessively wretched, he should anxiously
flee from wickedness, and strive to be good; for
by this means a man may have friendly feelings
towards himself, and become a friend of another.

CHAP. V.

On Good-will.

Good-will resembles friendship, and yet it is not 1*
friendship; for good-will is felt towards those whom Evvoia dil
we do not know, and without their being aware of fronl
it; but friendship is not: all this has been said
before. Nor yet is it affection ; for good-will has
no intensity, nor desire : but both of these accom-
pany affection. Affection too is formed by intimacy;
but good-will may be sudden; as comes to pass in
the case of antagonists; for we wish them well, and
partake in their wishes, but we would not assist
them at all; for, as we have stated, we feel good-
will suddenly, and our love is superficial. It seems, 2.

then, to be the beginning of friendship : in the same
manner as the pleasure derived from sight is the
R 2244

AKISTOTLE'S

[book i*«

beginning of love : for no 3ne feels love, unless
lie is first pleased with personal appearance : but he
that takes pleasure in the personal appearance is
not necessarily in love, except he longs for the
object when absent, and desires its presence. In
:i the same manner, then, it is impossible to be friends
without good-will. But those who have it are not
necessarily friends; for they only wish good to those
for whom they have good-will; but they would not
assist them at all, nor take any trouble about
them.

4.	So that one might call it, metaphorically, friendship
Goodvift in a state of inactivity; and say, that when it has
defined. continued some time, and arrived at familiarity, it

becomes friendship, but not that for the sake of the
useful or the agreeable: for good-will is not pro-
duced by those motives. For he who has received
a benefit, returns good-will for what he has received,
therein acting justly : but he who wishes any one to
be prosperous, having some hope of profiting by
his means, appears to be well-disposed, not to that
other person, but rather to himself; in the same
manner as he is not a friend, if he pays attention

5.	to him for the sake of some advantage. Upon the
whole, good-will arises on account of virtue, or some
goodness, when any one is seen to be honourable,
or manly, or something of that kind : as we have
stated is the case with antagonists.

CHAP. YI.

On Unanimity.

1. Unanimity also seems to be connected with friend-
Difference ship; hence it is not the same as unity of opinion ;
between for may exist between persons who are unac-
and^o. Tainted with each other. Neither do we say, that
Softa. they who think the same upon any subject whatever
are unanimous; for instance, those who think theCHAP. VI.]

ETHICS.

m

same about tlie heavenly bodies ; for unanimity upon
these matters does not belong to friendship. But
we say, that states have unanimity, when they
think the same upon questions of expediency, and
deliberately make the same choice, and execute
what has been determined in common.

Consequently, men have unanimity upon practical 2.
matters; and amongst these, upon those which are
important, and which are of mutual or common
interest; for instance, states are unanimous when
all agree that the magistrates should be elected,

or that alliance should be made with Sparta, or
that Pittacus should be Archon, when he wished
it also himseE1 But when each party wishes him- x
self to be in power, as the two brothers in the
Phoenissse, they quarrel; for this is not unanimity,

that each party should conceive the same idea,
whatever it may be, but that their conceptions
should fix upon the same object: for instance, when
both the people and the better part agree for an
aristocracy ; for thus all obtain what they desire.

Unanimity then is plainly political friendship, as 4.
indeed it is said to be; for it is upon matters of^Ofiovota
expediency, and those which have a reference to fS-endshi
life. But such unanimity exists between the good ;
for these are of one mind both with themselves and
each other, being engaged, as we may say, upon the
same subjects; for the counsels of such men as
these continue firm, and do not ebb and flow, like
the Euripus :m and they wish what is just and expe-
dient ; and this also they desire in common. But it 5.

1 Pittacus, with the unanimous consent of the republic and
his own also (for this is requisite to constitute perfect unani-
mity), was intrusted with the government for ten years : after
which, although the state wished him to continue in office, he
refused.—Giph.

111 Compare Cicero pro Mureena, xvii. :—" Quod fretum,

quem Euripum tot motus, tantas, tam varias habere putatis
agitationes fluctuum, quantas perturbationes et quantos sestus
habet ratio comitiorum."—Michelet. Brewer also quotes
here, Isaiah, lvii. 20: " The wicked are like the troubled sea,

tfhen it cannot rest."24b

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ix.

is impossible for bad men to have unanimity, except
to a slight extent; as it is impossible for them to
be friends, since they are desirous of more than
their share in what is profitable, but in labours and
public services they take less. But when each party
wishes the same things for himself, he searches
minutely into the qualifications of his neighbour,
and hinders him, and as they are not watchful for
the public interest, it is sacrificed. The result,
therefore, is that they quarrel, using force to one
another, and not being willing themselves to do
their duty.

CHAP. VII.

That the Love of Benefactors is stronger than that of those
benefited.

1.	Benefa.ctoks are thought to love those whom they
have benefited, more than they who have received
favours love those who have conferred them; and

2.	as though this were contrary to what we might
Beneficence expect, it is made a subject of inquiry. Now, the
not an opinion of the generality is, that the one party are
debtorand debtors, an(* the other creditors; consequently, in
creditor, the same manner as in the case of debts, the debtors

wish their creditors not to live, but those who have
lent are careful for the health of their debtors; so
also they think that those who have conferred
favours, wish the receivers of them to live, as
though in that case they would receive them back
again, while the other party does not care about
repaying them.

3.	Now, Epicharmus perhaps would say that they
hold this language, because they look to the bad
side of human nature: yet still it seems like human
nature; for the generality are forgetful, and are
more desirous of receiving than conferring benefits.
But the real reason it would appear is more natural,
and the case does not resemble that of lenders ; forCHAP. VII.]

ETHICS.

247

they have no fondness towards the other party,

but only a wish for their preservation, for the sake
of receiving a return.

Those who have conferred favours, are fond of 4.
and love those who have received them, even if they Why bene-

neither are, nor are likely to be, useful to them: factors love

. , , .	.,14/	n	more than

which also is the case with workmen; tor every one those wj10

loves his own work, more than he could be loved receive.

by the work, were it to become animated. This

perhaps is most the case with poets ; for they love

their own poems above measure, having a parental

affection for them. Such then seems to be the case 5.

of benefactors; for he who has received a kindness

is a work of theirs; consequently they love him

more than the work loves the producer of it. The

reason of this is, that existence is an object of

choice and love to all; but we exist by energy; for

we exist by living and acting. He then who has

produced a work, in a certain sense exists by the

energy ; hence he loves the work, because he loves

his own existence. But this is natural; for the

work shows by energy that which existed only in

power.

At the same time, also, the result of the action is 6*
honourable to the benefactor, so that he takes plea-
sure in the person in whom that exists : but to the
receiver there is nothing honourable in relation to
his benefactor ; but if there is anything, it is .id-
vantage : and this is less agreeable, and less an
object of love. In the case of a present act, the
energy is pleasant; in that of a future act, the
hope ; in that of a past act, the memory : but the
pleasure resulting from the energy is the greatest,

and most an object of love. To the benefactor, f,
therefore, the work continues; for that which is
honourable, is permanent : but as regards the re-
ceiver, the useful soon passes away. The recollection
also of honourable things is pleasant; but of useful
things, not generally so, or in a less degree. The
expectation, however, of advantage seems to be the
aontrary of this.248

AUISTQTLE'S

[bO^K IX.

3. Tlie feeling of affection also resembles produc-
tion ; but tlie being loved is like something
passive; thosp? therefore, who are superior in the
active conferring of a kindness, love, and all tlie
feelings of friendship accompany. Again, all feel
greater love for what they have acquired with
labour; as those who have earned their money,
love it more than those who have inherited it.
Now, to receive favours seems to be without labour;
but to confer them is laborious. For this reason
also mothers are more fond of their children than
fathers are; for the bringing them forth is more
painful, and they feel more convinced that they are
their own,n The same also would seem peculiarly to
belong to benefactors.

CHAP. VIII.

Of Self-love.0

1. It admits of a question whether a man should

Whether l0ye himself best, or another : for we are apt to
a man

n Thus Euripides, —

1 i The pangs of labour are a powerful bond,

And every mother dotes upon her child."

And, again,—

" The mother loves her child more than the father ;
For she knows it is hers, he only thinks so."

0 The preface to Bishop Butler's Sermons, as well as the
first and eleventh sermons, furnish a valuable commentary on
the place which a reasonable self-love occupies amongst moral
duties, its relation to benevolence or the love of others, and
the difference between it and selfishness, which are often con-
fused one with the other. " Self-love," says Bishop Butler,
" in its due degree, is as just and morally good, as any
affection whatever." " Benevolence is so perfectly coincident
with it, that the greatest satisfaction to ourselves depends upon
our having benevolence in a due degree : and self-love is one
chief security of our right behaviour towards society." How
consistent is this view with HIS doctrines, who has made re-
gard to ourselves the standard by which to measure our love
toothers, and has said, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as
thyself.''CHAP. VIII.1

ETHICS.

249

censure those who love themselves best and as if should 1 ova
it were disgraceful, we call them selfish. The bad himself
man also seems to do everything for his own sake, best'
and, the more so the more wicked he is. They
therefore complain of him, as doing nothing without
reference to himself: but the good man acts from Distinction
honourable motives, and the better he is, the more between
he acts from honourable motives, and for his friend's ProPer an(*
sake; and he passes over his own interest. But s^Jf.^ove^
facts are at variance with these remarks, and that 2
not unreasonably : for it is a common saying, that
a man should love his greatest frier d best. Now
he is the best friend, who wishes another good
for that person's sake, even if nobody knows it;

but this and every other feeling which enters
into the definition of a friend, exists most of
all in a man with regard to himself; for we have
stated, that from himself proceed all the feelings
of friendship which he has for others. All the 3.
proverbs agree in this : such as " one soul: " and
" the property of friends is common :" and " friend-
ship is equality :" and " the knee is nearer than
the shin : " for all these feelings exist mostly .with
reference to a man's self; for he is the best friend
to himself; and therefore he must love himself
best.

But the question is reasonably asked, which of 4.

these two must we follow, since both seem worthy
of credit 1 Perhaps, then, we should divide and dis-
tinguish such conclusions as these, and show how
far, and in what respect each is true. If, then, we
can understand in what sense each uses the word
self-love, perhaps the point would be plain. Those, 5„
therefore, who use it as a reproach, call those men The self-
self-lovers, who give to themselves the greater share of }°\e of

i	i iM i	n .I	bsd nicin*

money, or honour, or bodily pleasures; ior the gene-
rality of men are grasping after these, and extremely
anxious about them, as if they were the best
things; whence, also, they are objects of con-
tention. Those, therefore, who are covetous of these
things, gratify their desires, and, in short, their250

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ix.

6.	passions, arid tlie irrational part of the soul. But
the generality are of this kind : whence, also, the
appellation has arisen, from the generality, which
are bad. Consequently reproach is justly cast upon
those who are selfish in this sense. But that the
generality are accustomed to call those self-lovers,
who give such things as these to themselves, is

The self- quite plain. For if any one is constantly anxious
love of a that he himself more than any other person should
good man what is just, or temperate, or anything else in
ambits ^ accor(^-ance with virtue, and in short is always for
motives. gaining something honourable for himself, no one
would call such a man a self-lover, nor blame him.

7.	And yet such a character as this would seem to
Why the be more than any other a self-lover ; for he gives
good man himself what is most honourable, and the
have^elf- greatest goods, and gratifies the authoritative part
ove. of himself, and obeys it in everything. And as

that part, which has most authority, seems especially
to constitute the state, and every other system, so
it constitutes a man; and therefore he who loves
this part and gratifies it, is especially a self-lover.

8.	So also a man is called continent or incontinent,
according as the intellect has authority or not, as if
this constituted each individual. And men think
that what they do with reason, they do themselves,
and voluntarily, more than any other things. That
this, therefore, especially constitutes the individual,
is quite plain, and that the good man especially
loves this. Therefore he must be especially a
self-lover, after a different manner from the person
who is reproached for it, and differing in as great a
degree, as living in obedience to reason differs from
living in obedience to passion, and as desiring the
honourable differs from desiring what seems to be
advantageous.

9.	Now, all approve of and praise those who are
Why the particularly earnest about performing honourable
good man acti0ns : and if all contended for what is honour-
have self- a^le, and strove to perform the most honourable
love. acts, there would be to every one generally what isCHAP. VIII.]

ETHICS.

251

right and proper, and to each individually the
greatest goods; at least if virtue is such as we have
described it. So that the good man must neces-
sarily be a self-lover : for he will be delighted in
performing honourable acts himself, and will benefit
others. But the wicked man ought to be so : for
he injures both himself and his neighbours, by fol-
lowing evil passions. To the wicked man, therefore,
what he ought to do, and what he does, are at
variance ; but the good man does what he ought to
do ; for all intellect chooses what is best for itself;
and the good man obeys his intellect. It is true I1-*
also of the good man, that he performs many acts for
his friends and his country, nay, even if it is his duty
to die for them : for he will give up money and
honours, and, in short, all the good things which
others contend for, if he can secure to himself that
which is honourable. For he would prefer being
pleased for a short time exceedingly, than for a long
time slightly; and to live one year honourably,
than many years in the ordinary manner; and to
perform one honourable and great act, rather than
many small ones. Those who die for their coun- 12,
try, this perhaps actually befalls: they choose
something highly honourable for themselves, and
they would give up money on condition that
their friends should receive more of it: for the
friend receives the money, and he himself the
honour; so he gives the greater good to himself.
The same rule holds good with respect to honour-
able distinctions and offices; for he gives up all
these to his friend; since this is honourable to
himself and praiseworthy. "With reason, then, he
is thought to be a good man, for choosing what
is honourable in preference to everything else. It
is possible, also, that he may give up the perform-
ance of these actions to his friend, and that it may
be more honourable for him to be the cause of a
friend's doing a thing, than to do it himself. In all
praiseworthy things, therefore, the good man seems
to give himself the greater share of what is honour-252

ARISTOTLE'S

[BOOK IX,

able. In this sense, therefore, one ought to love one's
self, as lias been stated; but in the way that the
generality do, one ought not.

CHAP. IX.

That even the Happy Man will need good friends.

1.	But a question also arises about the happy man,
whether he will need friends or no : for it is com-
monly said that those who are prosperous and inde-
pendent, do not need friends, since they have all
goods already, and therefore that, being indepen-

Why the dent, they require nothing more ; but that a friend,
happy man being another self, provides what a man is unable
needs to provide of himself. Hence comes the saying,—-
When fortune gives us good, what need of friends ?

2.	And yet it seems an absurdity to attribute all goods
to the happy man, and yet not to give him friends,
which are thought to be the greatest of all external
goods. And it it is more the part of a friend to
confer than to receive favours, and to do good is
characteristic of a good man and of virtue, and it is
more honourable to benefit friends than strangers,
the good man will want some persons to be bene-

3.	fited. Hence it has also been asked, whether there
is a greater need of friends in adversity or pros-
perity : as in adversity we want persons to benefit
us, so in prosperity we want persons whom we

4# may benefit. And it is perhaps absurd to make
the happy man a solitary being; for no one
would choose to possess all goods by himself;
since man is a social being, and formed by nature
to associate : this, therefore, is the case with the
happy man ; for he possesses whatever is by nature
a good. But it is evident that it is better to pass
our time with friends and good men, than with
strangers and anybody indiscriminately. The happy
man, therefore, wants friends.CHAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

2c 3

What, thsn, do the first-mentioned people say, 5.
and how far do they speak truth 1 is it not that The h»PP?
the generality consider those only to be friends ^Qatnnle°|js
who are useful h The happy man will have no useful
need of such friends as these, since he is in posses- friends,
sion of all goods; nor, consequently, of those who
are friends for the sake of the pleasant, or only in a
small degree ; for his life being pleasant, does not
require any adventitious pleasure. But since he Nor plea-
does not require such friends as these, he has been sant>
thought not to require friends at all. This per- 6.

haps is not true ; for it was stated at the begin-
ning that happiness is a kind of energy : and an
energy is evidently produced, not merely possessed,

like property. And if happiness consists in living but virtuous
and energizing, and the energy of the good man is friends,
good and pleasant in itself, as was stated at the
beginning; and if that which peculiarly belongs to
us is of the number of pleasant things, and we can
contemplate others better than we can ourselves, and
their actions better than our own, then the actions
of good men, when they are their friends, are pleasant
to the good ; for both possess what is naturally Why so.
pleasant; and consequently the happy man will
want such friends as these, if he deliberately prefers
to contemplate virtuous actions, and those which
are peculiarly his own. And the actions of the 7
good man are such, when he is his friend. But it
is thought that the happy man ought to live plea-
santly. Now, to a solitary person life is burthen-
some i*. for it is not easy to energize constantly by
one's self, but with and in relation to others it is
easy. The energy, therefore, will be more conti-
nuous when it is pleasant in itself, which ought to
be the case with the happy man; for the good man,

so far forth as he is good, takes delight in actions
according to virtue, and feels pain at those which
are according to vice: just as the musician is
pleased with beautiful melodies, but feels pain
at bad ones. And there may be a kind of prae-254

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ix.

tice of virtue from living with good men, a?
Theognis says. P

8.	If we examine the question more physiologically,
The ques- it appears probable that the good friend is by
dered°hS1" na^are an °bject choice to the good man ; for it
siologicajjy. has been stated, that what is good by nature, is in

itself good and pleasant to the good man. But
life is defined to consist, in animals, in the faculty
of sensation, and in men, of sensation and intelli-
gence and the faculty is referred to the energy,

9.	and properly consists in the energy. Life, then,
seems to be properly the exercise of sensation or
intellect; and life is one of the things which are
good and pleasant absolutely; for it is something
definite ; and that which is definite partakes of
the nature of the good ;r and that which is a
good by nature, is a good also to the good man:
and therefore it seems to be pleasant to all.

10.	But we must not take a depraved and corrupt
life, nor one passed in sorrow; for such a life as
this is indefinite, just as the circumstances belong-
ing to it are ; which will be more evident in what
is to follow upon the subject of pain. But if life

Conscious- itself is a good, it is also pleasant; and this seems

tence°f leaS"	case ^rom desiring it, and par-

sank ticularly the good and happy: for to them life is

11.	most eligible, and their life is most happy. Now, he

p The verses of Theognis are as follows :—

" With these eat and drink, with these

Sit, and please those whose power is great.

For from the good thou shalt learn good ; but if with
the wicked

Thou minglest, thou wilt lose the intellect thou hast."

i The dwafxeiQ (faculties or capacities) of the whole animal
and vegetable creation are SpETCTiKrj, alaQriTiKr}, opeKTtKrj,
KivrjriKi}, diavorjriKri. Of these the first alone is possessed
by vegetables. The first four by brute animals. The whole
by man.

r Aristotle is here referring to the Pythagorean theory as
set forth in their co-ordinate catalogue of goods (see Book I.),
m which the definite is classed amongst goods, the indefiniteCHAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

255

tliat sees, perceives that lie sees ; and lie tliat hears,

that lie hears; and lie that walks, that he walks;

mid in every other case, in the same manner, there is
some faculty which perceives that we are energizing:

bo that we perceive that we are perceiving, and
understand that we are understanding. But this is
the same as saying that we perceive or understand
that we exist; for existence was defined to be per-
ceiving, or understanding. Now, to perceive that one 12
is alive, is of the number of those things which are
pleasant in themselves: for life is a good by nature:

and to perceive the good which is inherent in one's
self is pleasant. But life is eligible, and particu-
larly to the good, because existence is to them good
and pleasant; for by the consciousness of that
which is absolutely a good, they are pleased.

Now, the good man has the same relation to his 13*

friend as he has to himself; for a friend is another
self; in the same manner, therefore, as to exist one's
self is eligible to every one, so also, is it for one's
friend to exist, or nearly so. But existence was said
to be eligible on account of the perception of that
which is a good : and such a perception is pleasant
in itself. "We ought, therefore, to be conscious of the 14.
existence of our friend; and this would result from We ought,
associating with him, and sharing his words and con'
thoughts; for this would seem to be the meaning scious 0f
of the word society, when applied to men, and not, onr friend's
as in the case of cattle, the merely feeding in the existence,
same place.s If, then, existence is in itself eligible

* The philosophy of Aristotle is the exact opposite of any-
thing approaching to asceticism. The relation subsisting be-
tween a man and his friend is the same as that between him
end another self. He is to love his friend as himself. The
enjoyments of friendship are derived from as clear a conscious-
ness of our friend's existence as we have of our own. The
nourishment and support of friendship are intercourse, asso-
ciation, communion. Carry these principles a little further to
their legitimate conclusion, and to what important results do
they lead ! Self-knowledge and the satisfaction of an approv-
ing conscience are the result of self-communion. Friendship,

or, to speak more properly, love to God, is kept up by that
intimate and close communion which the Christian is ea«

souraged to hold with him.$55

ARISTOTLE'S

[book ix

to the happy man, being by nature something good
and pleasant, and if the existence of a friend is
nearly the same, then a friend must also be of the
number of eligible things. But that which is
eligible to a man, he ought to possess; or else he
is deficient in that respect; he, therefore, that is to
be happy will need good friends.

CHAP. X.

How many Friends a Man ought to have.

1.	Must we then make as many persons our friends as

How many possible % or, as it seems to have been appropriately

friends it is ga^ the case of hospitality,—

desirable to	r J'

have.	6i Have neither many guests nor none."

Hesiod, Works and Days, 713,

So will the rule also apply in the case of friendship,
that we should neither be without friends, nor yet

2.	have too many. The saying would seem to be
Useful suitable altogether to those who are friends for the
friends, ga^e 0£ usef1£[ . for ft troublesome to make a

return of favours to a great many, and life is not
long enough to do it. Consequently, more than
what are sufficient for each particular kind of life,
are superfluous, and an impediment to living well,
3# and therefore there is no need of them. And
a few friends for pleasure's sake are enough; like
sweetening in our food. But with respect to the
good, should we have as great a number as possible 1
or is there some limit to number in friendship, as
there is in a political community ; for neither can
there be a political community composed of ten
people, nor is it any longer a political community
when composed of a hundred thousand :fc but the

4 This limitation of the number of persons constituting a
political community may at first appear strange to us, who are
accustomed to the large and populous communities of modern
times ; but we mtist remember how very small was the num«

Pleasant
friends.
Virtuous
friends.CHAP. X.J

ETHICS.

257

quantity is not perhaps some particular number,
but only one between certain fixed limits. In the 4
<;ase of friends, therefore, there is also some definite
number; and perhaps it is the greatest number with
whom one can associate ; for this was thought to be
the greatest sign of friendship. But that it is not
possible for the same person to associate and con-
tinue in friendship with many, is plain. Besides,
these must also be friends to each other, if all
intend to pass their time with each other ; and
this is difficult in the case of a great number. It
is also difficult to sympathize in pleasures and pains
with many people ; for it is likely to happen at the
same time, that a man may be rejoicing with one
friend, and grieving with another.

Perhaps, then, it is as well not to seek to have as 5.
many friends as possible, but only as many as are
sufficient for society ; for it would seem impossible
to be a very strong friend to many. Hence, also,
it is impossible to be in love with many ; for love
is a kind of excess in friendship : and it is felt
towards one object; and therefore excess in it can
only be felt towards a few. So it seems to be in g,
real fact : for in friendship between companions,
many do not become friends ; and those friend-
ships which are most celebrated, are between two
only.11 Those who have many friends, and are
familiar with everybody, are by no one thought to
be friends, except in a political sense ;v and these
are called men-pleasers. In the above sense, then,
a man may be a friend to many, even without being
a man-pleaser^ but really as a good man : but for

ber of enfranchised citizens, in even the largest of the Grecian
states, as compared with the rest of the population. See Polit.
rii. 4.

u The friendships of Saul and Jonathan, Damon and Pythias,
Pylades and Orestes, and so forth.

v In a political sense, i. e. in the same sense in which a man
may be said to have a love for his country. The feeling of
patriotism is of a wider and more extensive kind, not so much
a matter of personal at ichinent; or based, as friendship is, in
personal qualities.

SARISTOTLE'S

[book ix.

tiie sake of virtue and the persons themselves, it is
impossible to be a friend to many j one must be
content indeed to find a few such.

CHAP. XL

Whether Friends are more needed in Prosperity or in
Adversity ?

1.	Is there greater need of friends in prosperity or
JB riends jn adversity h for they are sought for in both : since
both in unfortunate want assistance, and the fortunate
prosperity want persons to live with and to benefit; for they
and ad- wish to do good. It is more necessary to have
versity. them in adversity; whence in adversity there is
More ne- need of useful friends ; but it is moi?e honourable
cessary in to have them in prosperity ; whence also the pros-
adversity, perous seek for good friends ; since it is more
nourable" in desirable benefit the good, and to live with them,
prosperity. Besides, the very presence of friends is pleasant

2.	both in prosperity and adversity ; for those who are
in pain feel relieved when their friends sympathize
with them. Hence one might ask the question,
whether they as it were share the burthen; or
whether perhaps it is not that, but that their pre-
sence being pleasant, and the idea of sympathy,
make the pain less. Whether they feel relieved
from this or any other cause, let us dismiss from
our consideration ; but what we stated is evidently
the fact.

3.	The presence of friends seems in a manner to
cause a mixed feeling ; for the fact of seeing friends
is pleasant, and particularly to one in misfortune,
and it becomes a kind of assistance, so as to prevent
pain : since the sight and conversation of a friend
is able to comfort us, if he has tact; for he knows the
character of his friend, and what things give him
pleasure and pain. But to perceive one's friend
feeling paiu at one's own misfortunes, is painful;CHAP. XI.]

ETHICS.

2*§

for every one avoids being the cause of pain to his
friends. Therefore, those who are of a manly 4.
disposition are cautious how they let their friends
share their pain ; and unless a person is himself
without sensibility, he cannot endure that liis friends
should feel pain on his account: nor does lie at all
call in fellow-mourners, because he is not given to
mourning himself. But women and effeminate men
delight in having people to mourn with them, and
love them as friends and partners in affliction. But
in every case we ought of course to imitate the
best.

The presence of friends in prosperity makes us 5.

pass our time pleasantly, and makes us conscious
that our friends are feeling pleasure at our good.
Therefore, it would seem that we ought to invite In pros-
friends to share our prosperity with alacrity; for it is perity we
an honourable thing to be ready to do good to others :

but to share our adversity, we should invite them with friericj"s
Reluctance, for we ought to share our misfortunes as in adver-
iittle as possible : whence the saying,—	sity reluct.

ant.

It is enough that I myself am unfortunate.

We should call them in especially, when they 6.
may render us great assistance, with a little trouble.
We should perhaps, on the contrary, go to those
who are in misfortune, without being called in, and
with alacrity. For it becomes a friend to confer
benefits, and particularly upon those who are in
need, and did not ask it as a right: for in both
cases it is more honourable and pleasant: but to
those who are in prosperity, if it is to co-operate
with them, we should go willingly ; for this is the
use of a friend : but if it is to enjoy their good
fortune, we should go reluctantly; for it is not
honourable to be anxious to receive assistance.
But perhaps we must guard against appearing un-
gracious in our refusal; for this sometimes takes
place. The presence of friends, then, i* necessary
under all circumstances.

s 2260

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [Vook ix

CHAP. XII.

That the most desirable thing for frieids is Intimacy.

1. Is it not the case, then, that as the sight of the
Society the beloved object is most desirable to lovers, and they
bond^of^ c^oose sense rather than the others, as if love
friendship. derived from it especially its existence and its
origin, so also society is most desirable to friends 1
for friendship is communion. And as we feel
towards ourselves, so do we towards our friends;
and with respect to ourselves, the perception of
existence is desirable ; it is the same, therefore,
' 2. with respect to our friends. But the energy of
friendship consists in society; so that it is with
reason that friends are desirous of it. And in
whatever each thinks that existence consists, or
on whate ver account they choose life, in this they

3.	wish to \ ass their time with their friends. Hence,
some drink together, some dice together, others
exercise and hunt together, or study philosophy to-
gether ; each passing their time in the occupation
which they like best of all things in life ; for as
they wish to live with their friends, they do and
partake with them those things, Jby which they

4.	think that they can live in intimacy. Therefore,
the friendship of bad men becomes depraved: for
they partake of what is bad, being unstable ; and
they become depraved, by growing like each other;
but the friendship of good men is good, being

5.	mutually increased by intercourse. Besides, men
The moral are thought to become better by energizing, and
of fdend-6 by correcting one another: for they receive an
ghip. " impress from each other in whatever they are

pleased with : whence it is said,—

You will learn what is good from the good.

Of friendship, therefore, let so much be said. The
next thing is to treat of the subject of pleasure.101

BOOK 3L

CHAP. I

Of Pleasure.*

After this, perhaps the next subject for discussion i„
is pleasure ; for it seems above everything else to Pleasure
'he intimately connected with our nature. Hence,
we educate the young, steering them, as it were, by its ethica]
pleasure and pain. It seems also to be of the importance
greatest consequence towards laying the foundation
of the moral character, that men should take
delight in what they ought, and hate what they
ought; for these feelings continue throughout life,

carrying with them great weight and influence
on the side of virtue and a happy life; for men
deliberately choose what is pleasant, and avoid
what is painful.

It would seem, then, that we ought by no means 3.

to pass over such subjects as these; especially as
they involve much difference of opinion. For some Erroneous
say that pleasure is the chief good; others, on the opinions
contrary, that it is altogether bad ; some of these concerning
last, perhaps, fro,n a persuasion that it really is so ;

others, thinking that it is better in reference to
human life, -jto declare pleasure to be among bad
things, even if it be not so ; because the mass of
mankind haVe a propensity to xfcj and are slaves to

a " The opinion that pleasure is uie cmei good had been
much advanced by the efforts of Democritus, the Sophists,

Aristippus, &nd others, and was entertained by many of the
contemporaries of Aristotle and Plato. The dialogues of the
latter are/uif of objections to this popular theory : but in none
are they refuted with more care and labour than in the
Philebus."—Brewer. To this dialogue the ethical student fe
referred.262

ARISTOTLE'S

[book x.

their pleasures ; and therefore tliat it is right to
draw them away to the opposite; by which means
tliey would arrive at the mean. But perhaps this
is not well said; for arguments about matters of
feeling and action are less convincing than facts.

4. When, therefore, arguments are at variance with
Bad conse- what is evident to the senses, they are despised, and
of such8 are destruction of the truth also ; for if he who
opinions, censures pleasure is ever seen to be desiring it, he
appears to have a leaning towards it, as if all plea-
sure were of the same nature ; for to draw nice
distinctions is not the character of the multitude. b
True statements, therefore, seem not only to be the
most useful for obtaining knowledge, but also for
the regulation of life ; for when they agree with
, facts, they are believed. Hence, men exhort those
who understand them to live according to them.
Enough, then, of such matters : let us now enume-
rate the doctrines which have been held on the
subject of pleasure.

CHAP. II.

Opinions held on the subject of Pleasure.

1. Eudoxus c thought that pleasure was the chief
ment^of" g°°d' because saw all> both mtional and irra-
Eudoxus* to	seeking it; and in every a se that which is

b The slightest inconsistency of conduct is fatal to the
authority and influence of a moral teacher. If he warns his
hearers against pleasure, and is then seen to dJ/ote himself to
the pursuit of pleasure, even of an innocent ird, his argu-
ments are ineffectual, and his warnings are unheeded, because
the mass of mankind are unable to draw nice dk tinctions, and
to distinguish between lawful and unlawful pleasures.

U ®udoxus was a native of Cnidus, who flourished about
01. c. iii. (B. C. 366). He was a disciple of the geometrician
Archytas, and subsequently of Plato, by whom he was accom-
panied in his travels to Egypt. He was the auth or of a work
on astronomy, which was translated into verse by Aratus.
*	See Matthise's History of Greek and Roman T *' , and Clinton's

Fasti, p. 366, note (e).CHAP, II.]

ETHICS.

263

Ail object of choice is good, and that which is most prove that
so is the gi Batest good ; consequently, he considered Pleas^re
that the fact of all having a bias towards the same good
object proved that object to be the best for all; pirst
because each finds what is good for himself, as he argument,
does food; he argued, therefore, that what is good
to all, and what all aim at, was the chief good.

And his words were believed, more from the 2.
excellence of his moral character than for their Hls c^a*
own sake; for he had the reputation of being iacter*
eminently temperate : it was therefore thought
that he did not use this language as being a friend
to pleasure, but that the case really was so. But 3.
he considered this doctrine to be no less evident Second
from considering the contrary of pleasure ; for pain ar§ument'
is in itself an object shunned by all, and its contrary
is, in the same manner, an object chosen by all;

and that is especially an object of choice, which we Third
choose, not on account of anything else ; but plea- argument,
sure is confessedly of this nature ; for no one asks
for the sake of what he is pleased, as though he
knew that pleasure was eligible on its own account;
and pleasure, if added to any good whatsoever, Fourth
makes it more eligible; for instance, if added to argument,
the act of justice or temperance; and good can
only be increased by the addition of itself.

This argument certainly seems to prove it to be 4,

amongst goods, but not more so than anything else;

for everything is more eligible when in conjunction

with another good, than when left alone. By a 5.

similar argument, indeed, Plato overthrows the idea PIat0 f

of pleasure being the chief good; because a plea-

sant life is more eligible when joined with prudence opinions of

than without; but if the union of the two is Eudoxus,

better, pleasure simply cannot be the chief good ; and ^ris-

for you can add nothing to the chief good which totle s

answers.

will make it more eligible : and it is plain that
nothing else can be the chief good, which becomes
more eligible when joined to any of those things
which are eligible on their own account. What
is there, then, of this nature in which we can parti-
cipate 1 for such is the object of our inquiry. Those 6.264

ARISTOTLE'S

[book X

Objection who insist that that is not a good which all aim at,

argument must take care tiiat wliat tlie7 say does not amount
refuted. "k0 nothing : for we assert that what all think, must
really be. And he who tries to overthrow this
proof will not state any other more convincing j
for if it had been said that irrational beings only
sought pleasure, there might be something in the
objection; but if rational beings also seek it, how
can there be anything in what they say ? And per-
haps even in the inferior beings there is some
natural good principle, superior to their general
instincts, which aims at that good which is pecu-
liarly suited to them.

7. Neither does what is said respecting the argu-
Objection ment from the contrary appear to have any weight:
argument for ^ is said tliat though pain be an evil, it does
efuted. no^ follow that pleasure is a good; for evil is
opposed to evil, and both are opposed to that which
is neither good nor evil; in which they say what
is by no means wrong in itself, but they do not
happen to speak the truth in the case before us :
for if both were evils, both must be objects of
aversion; or if neither of them were, then neither
would be; at least, they would be circumstanced
alike : but now it is evident that men avoid the one
as an evil, and choose the other as a good : they
are therefore opposed in the manner stated.cc

cc The object of this chapter is as follows:—Aristotle is
quite ready to allow that pleasure is a good, but not that it is
the greatest good. Whilst, therefore, he is opposing Eudoxus,
who held the latter opinion, he does not disagree with Plato,
so far as he also is an opponent of Eudoxus, and denies that
pleasure is the chief good. This, however, does not prevent
him in the next chapter from objecting to and answering the
arguments which Plato adduces to prove that pleasure is
literally not a good, but an absolute evil. That it is an evil, is
proved by Plato in the following syllogism :—

Whatever admits of more and less is indefinite—
Pleasure admits of more and less—

Therefore pleasure is indefinite.

Whatever is indefinite is an evil—

Pleasure is indefinite—

Therefore pleasure is an evil.

See the avfTToixia of the Pythagoreans.CHAP* III.]

ETHICS.

CHAP, III.

Other Opinions on the subject of Pleasure.

Nor yet, because pleasure is not of the class of 1.
qualities, is it for that reason not a good; for the	^

energies of virtue are not qualities, nor is happi- mr^Qta^"
ness.d But it is said that good is definite, but futed.
pleasure indefinite, because it admits of degrees. 2,
Now, if this opinion is derived from the act of His second
being pleased, the same thing will apply to justice
and the other moral virtues (according to which it
is evidently allowed that men become of a certain
quality in each several virtue) ; for some men are
just and brave in a greater degree : it is possible
also to perform the acts of justice and temperance
in a greater or less degree. But if what they say 3.

applies to pleasure abstractedly, there is reason to
fear that they do not state the cause, if pleasures
are some unmixed, some mixed. But what reason
is there why, as health, which is definite, admits of
degrees, pleasure should not be definite and do so
likewise1? for there is not the same symmetrical
arrangement in all men, nor in the same person

d The arguments here refuted by Aristotle may be thus
briefly stated :—(1.) All goods are qualities; pleasure is not a
quality, therefore it is not a good. (2.) Pleasure admits of
degrees, therefore it is indefinite : now the Pythagoreans placed
the indefinite (aopiarov, aTreipov) in their catalogue of evils.
(3.) All motions are imperfect, and consequently all generation,

which is a species of motion, is imperfect. But '' good" is
perfect; if, therefore, pleasure is a icivrjcriQ, it is not a good.
(4.) The same argument applies to avair\i]pit}Gir, which is a
ysvecrig.

The following are the subdivisions of kivi)giq given in the
Categories, c. xi., and quoted by Chase in the notes to his
translation.

" From not being to being.—Generation.

From being to not being.—Destruction.

From being to being more.—Increase.

From being to being less.—Decrease.

From being here to being there.—Change of place.

From being in this way to being in that way.—Alteration/''266

ARISTOTLE'S

(.BOOK X,

is there alwa/s the same, but although relaxed, still
health continues up to a certain point, and differs
in degree. It is possible, then, that the case of.
pleasure may be the same.

4.	Assuming the chief good to be perfect, and motions
His third, and generations to be imperfect, they attempt to

prove pleasure to be a motion and a generation.
But it seems that what they say is not correct, and
that it is not a motion: for quickness and slowness
appear to belong to every motion; if not absolutely,
as in the motion of the universe, yet relatively.

5.	Now, neither of these conditions belongs to pleasure;
for it is possible to become pleased quickly, it is
to become angry; but not to feel pleasure quickly,
not even relatively ; but it is possible to walk, or to

6.	grow, and so forth, quickly or slowly. It is possi-
ble, therefore, to change into a state of pleasure
quickly or slowly ; but to energize according to it
quickly is not possible (by which expression I mean,
" to be pleased ").

7.	How also can it be a generation ? for it appears
His fourth, that not anything is generated from anything; but

from whatever it is generated, into that it is dis-
solved ; and yet that which pleasure generates, pain
destroys.e And again, it is said that pain is a want
of that which is according to nature, and that plea-

8.	sure is the supplying of that want. But these are
bodily affections ; consequently, if pleasure is the
supplying of that which nature requires, that must
feel the pleasure in which the supply takes place ;
that is, the body must feel it. This does not seem
to be the case; therefore, pleasure is not the sup-
plying of a want; but when the supply has taken
place, then a man will feel pleasure ; and when the
supply is cut off, he will feel pain. This opinion

e Everything which is generated is dissolved into the
elements out of which it was originally produced. This pro-
cess, which is opposite to ykvecic, is termed <pQopa. Pleasure
cannot therefore be a yev€(ng, because it produces nothing
which can be dissolved into its original elements. In fact, on
trie contrary, the sensations which pleasure generate, pain, and
not pleasure, destroys.CHAP. III.]

ETHICS.

267

seems to ha-v3 originated in the pains and pleasures 9.
connected with, food : for when men are in want, ^ienc.e
and have previously felt pain, they feel pleasure at
having the want supplied.	a

This does not happen in all pleasures : for the 10.
pleasures of mathematical studies are without pain.;

and, of the pleasures of the senses, those which come
by smelling are so : and so are sounds, and sights,

and many recollections also, and hopes. Of what,

then, will these be generations ? for there have been
no wants of anything to be supplied.

In answer to those who bring forward reprehen- 11.

sible pleasures, one might say, that these are not The case
pleasant; for we must not think that because they
are pleasant to ill-disposed persons, they are also
pleasant in themselves, except to these particular plained,
persons ; in the same way as we must not think
those things wholesome, or sweet, or bitter, which
are so to the sick : nor those white, which appear
so to those who suffer from ophthalmia. Or should 12.

this be said, that pleasures are eligible, but not
from these sources ; just as wealth is eligible, but
not to one who gets it by treason ; or health, but not
to one who gets it by eating all kinds of things ?

Or may it be said that pleasures differ in kind 1 for 13.

those which proceed from honourable sources differ
from those which proceed from disgraceful ones;

and it is impossible to feel the pleasure of the just
man without being just, or that of the musician,

without being musical: and so on in other cases.

But the difference which exists between a friend 14.

and a flatterer seems to prove either that pleasure The ar2u"
is not a good, or that pleasures are different in ^ateVbyS"
kind ; for the former seems to associate with a comparison
view to the good, the latter with a view to plea- between a
sure ; and the latter is reproached, but the former friend and
is praised; as associating with a different motive. a flatterer'

Again, no one would choose to live, having the 15.
intellect of a child all his life long, taking pleasure
in those things which please children, even if that
pleasure were the highest possible; nor to take26c!.

ARISTOTLE'S

[book x.

delight ill doing any thing disgraceful, even if he
was never to feel pain for so doing, Besides, we
should be diligent about many things, even if they
brought no pleasure ; as about seeing, remembering,

16.	knowing, possessing virtue. But whether pleasures
are consequent upon these things of necessity or
no, makes no difference ; for we should choose them,

17.	even if pleasure did not result from them. Conse-
Conclusion. quently, that pleasure is not the chief good; nor

every pleasure eligible, seems to be evident : and
that some are eligible for their own sakes, differing
either in kind, or in the source from whence they
are derived. Let this, then, be sufficient as to the
opinions which have been entertained upon the
subject of pleasure and pain.

CHAP. IV.

What Pleasure is, and that it renders perfect every energy.

1.	What the genus or species of pleasure is, will be-
resembles conie more evident if we resume the subject from
vision. GS beginning. For vision seems to be perfect at any

period of time ;f for it is not in want of anything,
which by coming afterwards will make its species
perfect. But pleasure resembles this; for it is a
whole : and we cannot at any particular time re-
ceive pleasure, the species of which would be per-

2.	fected if it lasted a longer time. Therefore it is

Why it is no^ a mo£j_on • for every motion takes place in time,
not 8, mo-	• •

tion nor a anc^ ^as some end in view; as, for instance, the
generation, motion of building : and it is perfect, when it has
produced what it aims at; or in the whole time of

3.	its being built, s But in separate portions of the

f See Addison's beautiful paper on the perfection of sight,
in the Spectator, No. 411.

* The reading here adopted of this somewhat obscure pas-
sage is that approved by Michelet, who says, with truth, that
it is the only reading which conveys any sense. The argument
is as follows:—Pleasure is perfect at any moment; whereas,CHAP. IV.]

ETHICS.

269

whole time, all the motions are imperfect, and differ Time,
in species from the whole motion, and from one
another; for the putting of the stones together is
different from the fluting of the column, and these
again differ from the building of the whole temple.

And the building of the temple is perfect : because 4.
it wants nothing towards the end proposed : but
the construction of the foundation and the triglyph
is imperfect: for each belongs only to a part. Con-
sequently they differ in species; and it is not pos-
sible at any particular time to take a motion which
is perfect in its species ; but if ever we can, it must
be in the whole time.

It is the same in walking, and every other mo- 5.

tion. For if motion be the moving from one part Place,
of space to another, there must be also specific
differences of motion; as flying, walking, leaping,

and so on. And not only thus, but even in walk-
ing itself; for the whence and the whither are not
the same in the whole stadium, and in part of the
stadium, or in one part of it and the other. Nor is 6.

it the same thing to cross this line or that; for a
person not only crosses a line, but a line in a parti-
cular place; and this is in a different place from
that. We have treated accurately of motion in
another place.11

It seems, however, not to be perfect in every part 7.
of time, but that the greater number of motions ^ecaIjit aia
are imperfect and different in species, if the whence lon
and the whither constitute species. But the spe-
cies of pleasure is perfect at any time whatsoever.

It is plain, therefore, that pleasure and motion 8.

must be different from each other, and that plea-

any motion, e. y. the act of building, is imperfect at the end of
any portion of time, and not perfect until the whole time of
building is completed. With respect to the architectuiai
terms here used, the KpqiriQ is the base (the shoe as it were, in
French le soc) of the column. 'Pa^wo-ic by some has been
understood to mean the levelling or erecting the column, by
others the measuring it with a wand. Its true meaning is the
fluting ; in French cannelure.

h In his Physics, Books III. and IV.270

ARISTOTLE'S

[liOOK JC.

sure is of the number of tilings entire and perfect.
This also would appear from the fact of its being
Impossible to move except in time, but we may feel
pleasure without reference to time ; for that which
is felt at any particular moment is something
entire.

9. But from all this it is clear, that it is incorrectly
said that pleasure is a motion or generation; foi
these terms are not applied to everything, but only
to those things which are divisible and not entire :
few: there is no generation of vision, nor of a point,
nor of a unit: nor is any one of these a motion or
generation, nor consequently is there a motion or
generation of pleasure ; for it is something entire.

. 10. But since every perception energizes with refe-
rence to its object, and that energizes perfectly
which is well-disposed with reference to the best of
Pleasure	^ie objects which fall under it (for this more

accom- than anything else appears to be the nature of a
panies, and perfect energy ; and whether we say that the per-
the^er^01'6 ceP^orL energizes, or that in which the perception
fection of asides, makes no difference : but in everything the
every ale- energy is best of that which is well-disposed with
On (rig, did- reference to the best of all the objects which fall
voia, and	it) : this must be the most perfect and the

wpia. most pleasant : for pleasure is attendant upon
every sense, as it is also upon every act of intellect
and contemplation; but the most perfect is the
most pleasant, and the most perfect is the
energy of that which is well-disposed with reference
to the best of all the objects which fall under it.
Pleasure, therefore, perfects the energy : but plea-
sure does not perfect it in the same manner that
the object and the perceptive faculty do if they are-
good ; just as health and the physician are not in
the same manner causes of a person being healthy.3'
12 But that there is a pleasure in every act of the per-

1 The physician is what the logicians call the efficient cause,
whilst health is the formal cause, of our being healthy. In
like manner, the object is the efficient cause, pleasure the
formal cause.CHAP. IV.J

ETHICS.

ceptive faculty is evident: for we say that sights
and sounds are pleasant : and it is also evident
that this is most so, when the perceptive faculty
is the best, and energizes upon the best object.

When the object perceived, and the faculty which
perceives it, are of this nature, there will always be
pleasure as long as there are an agent and a patient.

Again, pleasure makes the energy complete, not as 13.
the inherent habit would, but as some end added Pleasure
to it; it is just what the freshness of youth is to Perfects the
those in the prime of life.	asTan'mhe^

As long, therefore, as the object of perception or rent halit,
intellect be such as it ought to be, as also the but as an
faculty which judges or contemplates, there will be en(* added
pleasure in the energy : for when the patient and	1S

the agent are similar, and correspond to one tinuous."
another, the same effect is naturally produced.
Why, then, is no one continually pleased 2 is it
that he becomes fatigued 1 for no human faculties
have the power of energizing continually. Pleasure,

therefore, cannot result, for it follows the energy.

But some things cause delight when they are 14.
new, and for the same reason they do not cause it
in the same degree afterwards; for at first the in-
tellect is awakened, and energizes intensely in them,

as, in the case of sight, those do, who look stead-
fastly ; but afterwards the energy is not of the same
kind, but relaxed, and therefore the pleasure also
becomes dulled. But one might imagine that all 15.
men seek pleasure, because all are desirous of life; j)0 men
and life is a kind of energy ; and every one ener- from the ,
gizes upon and with those things which he loves desire of
best; as, for example, the musician, with his hear- ^ love r
ing, upon music; the studious man, with his in- thereversd
tellect, upon matters of speculation; and so on
with the rest. But pleasure makes the energy
perfect, and therefore it makes life perfect, which
men desire. It is with reason, therefore, that they 16,

also desire pleasure; for it makes life, which is
eligible, perfect to each one. But let the question,

whether we choose life for the sake of pleasure, or272

ARISTOTLE'S

[book x.

pleasure for the sake of life, be dismissed for the
present, for these seem to be intimately connected,
and not to admit of separation; for without an
energy pleasure is not produced, and pleasure per-
fects every energy.

CHAP. Y.

That Pleasures differ in species.

1. Hence also pleasures seem to differ in species; for
Pleasures we think that things which differ in species are
differ in made perfect by different things : for such seems to
cause the6"	case natural and artificial productions,

energies as animals and trees, and paintings and statues,
which they and houses and furniture. And also we think that
perfect energies, which differ in species, are made perfect
dlffer' by things which differ in species. But the energies
of the intellect differ from the energies of the
senses, and each of these differ from one another in
species ; consequently the pleasures which perfect
them (lifter.

3.	This would also appear from the intimate con-

Because of nection subsisting between each pleasure and the

the con- energy which it perfects; for the appropriate
nexion De~	, .-i , . <	, i	/>

tween the pleasure contributes to increase the energy; lor

pleasure persons who energize with pleasure judge of every-

and the thing and perform everything with a higher degree

wMch^it	accuracy > as	wh° "take pleasure in geo-

perfects. niefcry become geometricians, and comprehend

everything more distinctly. So also those who are

fond of music, or fond of building, and so forth, make

a progress in their peculiar employment, because

4.	they take pleasure in it. Pleasures, therefore, con-
tribute to increase the energy • but what contributes
to increase must be intimately connected; and
things which are intimately connected with objf cts
differing in species, must themselves also differ in
species.CHAP. V.J

ETHICS.

M'o

Again, this would appear still more plainly from 5.
the fact tliat pleasures arising from other sources Because
are impediments to energies ; for those who love
music cannot pay attention to conversation ifsources
they hear any one playing, because they take destroy-
more pleasure in music than in the energy in energies,
which they are engaged. The pleasure, therefore,

which is attendant upon music, destroys the energy
which was employed in conversation. It is the 6.

same in every other case, when a man is employed
upon two subjects at once: for the pleasanter
energy d fives out the other ; and if there is a
great difference as to the pleasure, so much the
more, so that he cannot energize at all upon the
other. When, therefore, we take very great delight 7.
in anything, we cannot do anything else at all;

and it is only when we are but moderately pleased
with one thing, that we employ ourselves in another 3
just as persons who eat sweetmeats in the theatre
do so most when the actors are bad. But since the
pleasure properly belonging to them makes the
energies accurate, and more lasting, and better, but
the pleasures arising from anything else spoil them,

it is evident that they are very distinct. For plea- Opposite
sures arising from something else produce nearly pleasures
the same effect as pains arising from the thing act \ 6
itself; for energies are destroyed by the pains pams'
which belong to them; for instance, if writing or
reasoning is unpleasant and painful to any one, he
does not write or reason, because the energy is
painful. The contrary effect, therefore, is produced 8.
on energies by the pleasures and pains which pro-
perly belong to them : but those properly belong to
the energy, which follow upon it independently of
anything else. It has been said also, that pleasures
arising from other objects produce nearly the same
effect as pain ; for they destroy the energy, but not
in the same way.

But since energies differ in goodness or badness, 9.
and some are to be chosen, some to be avoided., and
others neither, the pleasures also are related in the g0odne^%274

ARISTOTLE'S

[book X.

wid bad saiiie way ; for there is a pleasure properly belonging
nes?. to every energy. That, therefore, which is proper
to the good energy is good, and that which is proper
to the bad energy is bad ; for the desires of honour-
able things are praiseworthy, the desires of dis-

10.	graceful ones to be blamed] But the pleasures,
which are contained in the energies, more properly
belong to them than the desires ; for the latter
are distinct both as to time and nature ; but the

- former follow closely upon the energies, and are so
inseparable from them, that it is questionable whe-
ther the energy is not the same as the pleasure. It
appears, however, that pleasure is not an operation
of intellect or of the senses ; for that would be
absurd; but because they are not separated, they
appear to some to be identical.

11.	As, therefore, the energies are different, so are
Pleasures the pleasures. Now sight differs from touch in
differ in purity, and hearing and smelling differ from taste ;
Punty their pleasures, therefore, differ in the same way ;

and the pleasures of the intellect differ from these,

12.	and each differs from the other. There seems to
d^fferln68 a P^easure properly belonging to every animal,
menVnd as "^ere eac^ ^s proper work; for it is that
animals, which is according to its energy. And if we exa-
because mine each case separately by itself, this would seem
their ener- to be the case; for the pleasures of a horse, of a
gles 1 er. an(j 0f a man differ . as Heraclitus says, that

an ass would prefer litter to gold; for food is

-3. pleasant er than gold to asses. The pleasures, there-
fore, of things which differ in kind are different
also; but it is reasonable to expect that the plea-
sures of the same things should not differ. But
they differ in no slight degree, at least in the case
of men; for the same things give pain to some,
and pleasure to others ; and to some they are pain-
ful and objects of hate, to others pleasant and
objects of love. The case is also the same in sweet
things ; for the same things are not thought sweet
by a man in a fever, and a man in health ; nor is
fche same thing thought warm by an invalid and bvCHAP, VI.]

ETHICS.

275

a man in a good state of body : the same also is tlie
case with, everything else. But in all such in-
stances, that is thought to be the truth which
appears so to the good man.

If this is well said, as it appears to be, and if 14.
excellence, and the good man, so far forth as he is True pica-
good, are the measure of everything: those must
be pleasures which appear so to him, and those to the good
things pleasant in which he delights. But if what man.
is disagreeable to him seems pleasant to any one, it
is no wonder ; for there are many things which de-
prave and injure men ; but such things are not
pleasant, except to those men, and to others who
are so disposed. With respect to those pleasures 15.

which are confessedly disgraceful, it is evident that
we must not call them pleasures except to the
depraved. But of those pleasures which seem to
be good, what particular one or what kind must
we say is the pleasure of man ? or is not this plain
from the energies 1 for pleasures follow upon them.

Whether, then, there be one or more energies of 16.
the perfect and perfectly happy man, the pleasures
which perfect them must properly be said to be
the pleasures of man ; and the rest must be so in a
secondary or even very inferior degree,k just as the
energies are.

CHAP. YI.

On Happiness.

Since we have spoken of the virtues, of the differ- l.

ent kinds of friendships, and of pleasures, it remains Definition

that we should discuss the subiect of happiness in ot iiaPPi'

•	ncss re-

outline, since we assumed this to be the end of sumecj.

k The original is ttoWogt&q, for which we have no equiva-
lent in English. We could use the expression " lower in an
infinitesimal degree;" but we cannot say " a multesimal de-
gree." This, however, would exactly express the signification
of the Greek.

t 2276

ARISTOTLE'S

[book x.

human actions. Therefore, if we recapitulate what
has been said before, the argument will be more
concise.

2.	We have said that it is not a habit; for if it
Happiness were, it might exist in a man who slept throughout

accordirP	°f a- plant, and suffering

to Virtue, the greatest misfortunes. If, then, this does not

3.	please us, but if we must rather bring it under
a kind of energy, as was said before; and if, of
energies, some are necessary1 and eligible for the
sake of something else, others are eligible for their
own sakes; it is plain that we must consider
happiness as one of those which are eligible for
their own sakes, and not one of those which are
eligible for the sake of something else; for happi-
ness is in want of nothing, but is self-sufficient,

4.	Now those energies are eligible for their own sakes,
from which nothing more is sought for beyond the
energy. But of this kind, actions done according
to virtue seem to be : for the performance of ho-
nourable and good acts is amongst things eligible

Reasons for their own sakes. And of amusements, those
why happi- are eligible for their own sakes which are plea-

notTconsist san^ : T men no^ c^oose these for the sake of
in amuse- anything else : for they are rather injured by them
ment. than benefited, since they neglect their persons and

5.	property. But the majority of those who are
called happy fly to such pastimes as these ; and,
therefore, those who have a happy turn for such
pastimes as these are in favour with tyrants ; for
they make themselves agreeable in those things
which tyrants desire; and such are the men they
want.

6.	These things are thought to belong to happiness,
because those who are in power pass their leisure in
them. But such men are perhaps no proof; for
neither virtue nor intellect consists in having power,
and from these two good energies proceed; nor if

Necessary does not here imply necessary per se (inner^
Nothwendigkeit), but means and instruments necessary to the
accomplishment of some end.—Michelet.CHAP* VI.]

ETHICS.

27?

those, who have never tasted pure and liberal plea-
sure, fly to bodily pleasures, must we therefore
think that these pleasures are more eligible : for
children think those things which are esteemed by
them the best. It is reasonable, therefore, to sup- y
pose, that as the things which appear honourable to
children and men differ, so also those which appear
so to the bad and the good will differ likewise, and
therefore, as we have very often said, those things
are honourable and pleasant which are so to the
good man. But to every man that energy is most
eligible which is according to his proper habit; and,

therefore, to the good man, that is most eligible
which is according to virtue.

Consequently happiness does not consist in 8
amusement; for it is absurd that the end should
be amusement; and that men should toil and suffer
inconvenience all their life long for the sake of
amusement; for we choose everything, as we might
say, for the sake of something else, except happi-
ness ; for that is an end. But to be serious and 9.
to labour for the sake of amusement appears foolish
and very childish. But to amuse ourselves in order Saying of
that we may be serious, as Anacharsis said, seems Anacharsis.
to be right : for amusement resembles relaxation.
Relaxation, therefore, is not tlie end, for we have
recourse to it for the sake of the energy. But the
happy life seems to be according to virtue; and
this is serious, and does not consist in amusement,

We say also that serious things are better than 10.

those which are ridiculous and joined with amuse-
ment ; and that the energy of the better part and
of the better man is more serious ; and the energy
of the better man is at once superior, and more
tending to happiness. Besides, any person what- u.

ever, even a slave, may enjoy bodily pleasures no
less than the best man ; but no one allows that a
slave partakes of happiness except so far as that
he partakes of life : for happiness does not consist in
such modes of passing life, but in energies accord-
ing to virtue, as has been said already.ARISTOTLE'b

[T.ook X,

CHAP. YII.

On Contemplative Happiness.

1.	If happiness be an energy according to virtue, it is
Reasons # reasonable to suppose that it is according to the
ness is^an.1" virtue j and this must be the virtue of the
energy ac- best part of man. Whether, then, this best part be
cording to the intellect, or something else—which is thought
the best naturally to bear rule and to govern, and to possess
according*' ^eas UP011 honourable and divine subjects, or
to intel- whether it is itself divine, or the most divine of any
lectual property which we possess ; the energy of this part
virtue. according to its proper virtue must be perfect hap-
piness : and that this energy is contemplative has

2.	been stated. This also would seem to agree with
It is the what was said before, and with the truth : for this
noblest. energy is the noblest; since the intellect is the

noblest thing within us, and of subjects of know-
ledge, those are noblest with which the intellect is
conversant.

The most It is also most continuous ; for we are better
constant, able to contemplate continuously than to do any-

3.	thing else continuously. "We think also that plea-
The plea- sure must "be united to happiness : but of all the
Ban test. energies according to virtue, that according to wis-
dom is confessedly the most pleasant: at any rate,
wisdom seems to contain pleasures worthy of admi-
ration, both in point of purity and stability : and it
is reasonable to suppose that this mode of life should
be pleasanter to those who know it than to those who

4.	are only seeking it. Again, that which is called self-
sufficiency must be most concerned with contem-
plative happiness ; for both the wise man and the
just, and all others, need the necessaries of life ; but
supposing them to be sufficiently supplied with
such goods, the just man requires persons towards

5.	whom and with whom he may act justly ; and in
like manner the temperate man, and the braveCHAP. VII.]

ETHICS.

279

man, and so on with all the rest But the wise
man, if even by himself, is able to contemplate ;

and the more so the wiser he is; perhaps he will
energize better, if he has co-operators, but neverthe- 6.

less he is most self-sufficient. This would seem also to
be the sonly energy which is loved for its own sake;

for it has no result beyond the act of contemplation ;

but from the active energies, we gain more or less
beyond the performance of the action.

Happiness seems also to consist in leisure ; for 7.
we are busy in order that we may have leisure; ^ implies
and we go to war in order that we may be at peace. leiimre-
Now the energies of the active virtues are exerted
in political or military affairs ; and the actions with
respect to these are thought to allow of no leisure.
Certainly military actions altogether exclude it;

for no one chooses war, nor makes preparations for
war for the sake of war; for a man would be
thought perfectly defiled with blood, if he made
his friends enemies in order that there might be
battles and massacres. The energy of the states- 8
man is also without leisure; and besides the actual
administration of the state, the statesman seeks to
gain power and honours, or at least happiness for
himself and his fellow-citizens, different from the
happiness of the state, which we are in search of,

clearly as being different.

If, then, of all courses of action which are accord- 9.
ing to the virtues, those which have to do with Recapitu.
politics and war excel in beauty and greatness ;■< and latioTi*
these have no leisure, and aim at some end, and
are not chosen for their own sakes; but the energy
of the intellect is thought to be superior in inten-
sity, because it is contemplative; and to aim at no
end beyond itself, and to have a pleasure properly
belonging to it j and if this increases the energy ;

and if self-sufficiency, and leisure, and freedom from
cares (as far as anything human can be free), and
everything which is attributed to the happy man,
evidently exist in this energy; then this must be
the perfect happiness of man, when it attains tbo280

ARISTOTLE'S

[book %

end of life complete; for nothing is incomplete ot
those things which belong to happiness.

Id. But such a life would be better than man could

Such a life attain to ; for he would live thus, not so far forth as

approaches man j^t as there is in him something divine.111
nearest to

the divine. Bub so far as this divine part surpasses the whole
compound nature, so far does its energy surpass the

11.	energy which is according to all other virtue. If,
then, the intellect be divine when compared with
man, the life also, which is in obedience to that,
will be divine when compared with human life.

12.	But a man ought not to entertain human thoughts,
as some would advise, because he is human, nor
mortal thoughts, because he is mortal :n but as far
as it is possible he should make himself immortal,
and do everything with a view to living in accord-
ance with the best principle in him; although it
be small in size, yet in power and value it is far

13.	more excellent than all. Besides, this would seem
to be each man's " self," if it really is the ruling
and the better part. It would be absurd, there-
fore, if a man were to choose not his own life, but

14.	the life of some other thing. And what was said
before will apply now; for that which peculiarly
belongs to each by nature, is best and most pleasant
to every one ; and consequently to man, the life
according to intellect is most pleasant, if intellect
especially constitutes Man. This life, therefore, is
the most happy.

m Compare' what Cicero says respecting the Stoics (de
Fin. Y. iv.) : " Vitse autem degendse ratio maxime quidem illis
placuit quieta, in contemplatione et cognitione posita rerum :
quae quia deorum erit vitse simillima, sapienti visa est dignis-
sima, atque his de rebus et splendida est eorum et illustria
oratio."—Brewer.

n Compare Hor. Od. IV. vii.:—

u Immortalia ne speres, monet annus, et almum
Quge rapit hora diem."CHAP VIII.J

ETHICS.

231

CHAP. VIII.

Continuation of the same subject.

But that life which, is according to the other kind 1.
of virtue, occupies the second place in respect to in~
happiness; for the energies according to it are be- jfap^ine^s
longing to human nature ; for we do what is just is superioi
and brave, and everything else which is in accord- to moral
ance with the virtues, one towards another, in our happiness-
dealings and our needs, and in actions and passions
of every kind, observing what is becoming to each.

But all these appear to belong to human nature; 2.
in some points moral virtue even seems to be the
consequence of our corporeal nature, and, in many,

to be intimately connected with the passions. Pru- 3.

dence also is closely united to moral virtue, and
moral virtue to prudence; if the principles of pru-
dence are in accordance with the moral virtues, and
the correctness of the moral virtues in accordance
with prudence.0 But these are knit together with
the passions, and must relate to the whole compound
nature of man; and the virtues of the compound
nature are human; and therefore the life according
to them, and the happiness according to them, are
human. But the happiness of the intellect is sepa- 4
rate ; and let it be enough to have said thus much
about it, since extreme exactness is beyond the
subject proposed.

Intellectual happiness also would seem to requiiv 5.
external good in a small degree, or in a less degree Ifc is in(*;-
than moral happiness. For let it be granted that Sterna! °*
both equally stand in need of the necessaries of life g00(j.
(even though he who is engaged in social duties

0 Moral virtue chooses the right end ; prudence directs us
in the choice of the right means to that end; each is therefore
imperfect without the other, and hence the intimate and ,• in-
separable union between the two of which Aristotle here
speaks.282

ARISTOTLE'S

[book x,

employs himself more about the body, and things
of that kind, for there would be some little differ-
ence), yet with respect to the energies there will
be a great difference ; for the liberal man will want
money in order to perform liberal acts, and the
just man will want means to make returns, for
wishes are uncertain, and even the unjust pretend
that they wish to act justly ; the brave man also
will want power, if he is to perform anything
according to his virtue; and the temperate man
will want an opportunity to show his temperance.
For, otherwise, how will he or any other character
be known.

6.	A question has arisen, whether the deliberate
preference, or the actions themselves, have the
greater influence over virtue, since it consists in
both : now it is evident that it's perfection must
reside in both; but for the perfection of actions,
many things are needed ; and the more so, the

7.	greater and nobler the actions are. But the con-
templative man requires no such things, at least, to
perform his energy ; but they are, so to speak, im-
pediments, at least they are so to his contempla-
tion. So far forth as he is man, and associates with
many, he chooses to perform acts of moral virtue ;
he will therefore require such things in order to
maintain his character as a man.

8.	That perfect happiness is a kind of contemplative
It is the energy, might be shown also from the following
wWch^e8 considerations} that we suppose the gods to be pre-
may sup- eminently blessed and happy. But what moral ac-
pose that tions can we attribute to them ? shall they be just
the good actions; or will it not appear ridiculous to represent
enjoy- ^ them as making bargains, and restoring deposits,

* and so forth 1 Shall we, then, attribute to them
courageous acts, making them undergo formidable
thing's, and meet danger, because it is honourable i
or liberal acts ? But to whom will they give ? and it
is absurd to suppose that they have money, or any-
thing of that sort. But if we say that they are
temperate, what would that mean? is not the praiseCHAP. V.II.]

ETHICS.

283

absurd, because they have not bad desires ?i} And if 10.
we went through every case, moral actions would We cannot
seem insignificant, and unworthy of gods. But yet ^m moral
all suppose that they live, and therefore energize ; actjons#
for we do not imagine that they sleep like Endy
mion.q To him, therefore, who lives, if we take
away moral action, and still more so, production,

what is left besides contemplation'? So that the 11.

energy of the Deity, as io surpasses all others in But oni?
blessedness, must be contemplative : and therefore, ^ctsof °:011"
of human energies, that which is nearest allied to
this must be the happiest.

A proof of this also is, that other animals do not 12.
partake of happiness which are deprived altogether
of such an energy. For to the gods, their whole
life is blessed; and to men, as far as there belongs
to them some resemblance to such an energy : but
no other animal is happy, because they in no way
partake of contemplation. As far, therefore, as 13.
contemplation extends, so far does happiness; and N° ammal
whoever have more capacity for contemplation, ^abie^f
have more happiness, not accidentally, but in the it.

way of contemplation itself, for it is of itself valu-
able. So that happiness must be a kind of contem-
plation.

p How much more philosophical are the following observa-
tions of Bishop Butler on the happiness of heaven (Anal.

Part I. c. v.) :—" Nor is our ignorance, what will be the em-
ployment of this happy community, nor our consequent igno-
rance^ what particular scope or occasion there will be for the
exercise of veracity, justice, and charity, amongst the members
of it with regard to each o^er, any proof that there will be
no sphere of exercise for Lnose virtues. Much less, if that
were possible, is our ignorance any proof that there will be no
occasion for that frame of mind, or character which is formed
by the daily practice of those virtues here, and which is a result
from it. This at least must be owned in general, that, as the
government established in the universe is moral, the character
of virtue and piety must, in some way or other, be the condi-
tion of our happiness, or the qualification for it."

i The story of Endymion is well known. Cicero alludes to
it in his De Finibus, Y. xx.:—" Itaque ne si jucundissimis
quidem nos somniis usuros putemus, Endymionis somnum
nobis velimus dari: idque si accidat, mortis instar putemus."284

ARISTOTLE'S

[book x,

14.	The happy man will need external prosperity, so
How far far forth as he is man; for human, nature is not
™ sufficient of itself for contemplation.; but the body
necessary, must be in health, and it must have food and all

other care and attendance. We must not however
imagine that the person who is to be happy will
want many and great goods, because we say that
without external good he can be blessed • for self-
sufficiency does not consist in excess, nor does

15.	action. But it is possible to perform honourable
things without being lord of earth and sea; for a
man may be able to act according to "virtue with
moderate means. We may see this plainly : for
private individuals are thought to perform good
acts no less than men in power, but even more so.
And it is sufficient to have a competence, for the
3ife of that man will be happy, who energizes accord-

16.	ing to virtue. Solon also perhaps gave a good
The opi- description of the happy man, when he said, that
Solon and opinion it was he who was moderately sup-
Anaxago- plied with external goods, who had done the most
ras. honourable deeds, and lived temperately : for it is

possible that men who have moderate possessions

17.	should do what they ought. Anaxagoras also seems
to have conceived the happy man to be neither rich
nor powerful, when he said, that he should not be
surprised if he was thought absurd by the multi-
tude ;r for they judge by externals, having a percep-
tion of such things only.

18.	The opinions of wise men, therefore, seem to
agree with what has been said; such statements,
therefore, carry with them some weight. But we
judge of truth, in practical matters, from facts and
from life, for on them the decisive point turns; and
we ought to try all that has been said by applying
it to facts and to life ; and if our arguments agree

rThe meaning of this passage is, that Anaxagoras evidently
did not think that riches or power constituted happiness ; be-
cause, he said, that if he was asked who was a h&ppy man, he
should probably point out one whom the world would consider
foolish and absurd.CHAP. IX.]

El HICS.

285

with facts, we may receive them ; but if they are at
variance, we must consider them as mere words.

He also who energizes according to intellect, and 19.

pays attention to that, and has it in the best state, He who
is likely to be most beloved by the gods; for if any energizes
regard is paid to human affairs by the gods, as it is ^ostTe- b*
thought that there is, it is reasonable to suppose i0Ved by
that they would take pleasure in what is the best the gods,
and nearest allied to themselves : but this must be because *1G
the intellect; and that they would be kind in re- ^^les"
turn to those who love and honour this most, as to them,
persons who pay attention to their Mends, and who 20.
act rightly and honourably. But that all these
qualities especially belong to the wise man, is quite
clear; it is probable, therefore, that he is at the
same time most dear to the gods, and most happy;

so that even in this way the wise man must be the
happiest man.

CHAP. IX.s

That it is not sufficient to be acquainted with the Theory of
Virtue, but to possess Virtue, and practise it.

If, then, we have spoken at sufficient length of these 1.
matters, and of the virtues, and also of friendship Moral pre-
and pleasure, must we think that our original plan cePjs.not
is completed ? or is the end in practical matters, unlessThe
according to the common saying, not the coutem- student
plating and knowing all things, but rather the has been
practising them ? If so, it is not sufficient to know Previou^
the theory of virtue, but we must endeavour to t^Wnue -
possess and employ it; or pursue whatever other therefore'
means there may be of becoming good. Now, if education
mere treatises were sufficient of themselves to make must be
men good, justly "would they have received many £onsidereo
and great rewards," as Theognis says,ss and it would '

* This chapter is the connecting link between the Ethics and
Politics.

88 The passage to which Aristotle alludes is as follows286

ARISTOTLE'S

[BOOK Xi

S. be our duty to provide ourselves with them. But
the truth is, that they seem to have power to urge
on and to excite young men of liberal minds, and
to make a character that is generous and truly fond
of the honourable, easily influenced by virtue ; but
that they have no power to persuade the multitude

4.	to what is virtuous and honourable. For it is not
The masses the nature of the masses to obey a sense of shame,
led by fear, £ear. nor ^	from vicious things because

it is disgraceful, but for fear of punishments; for
they live according to the dictates of passion, and
pursue their own peculiar pleasures, and the means
of gratifying them ; they fly also from the contrary
pains ; but of what is honourable and truly pleasant,
they have no idea, inasmuch as they never had a

5.	taste for them. "What reasoning, then, can effect a
Cannot be change in such men as these 1 for it is not possible,

or at least not easy, to alter what has been for a
long time impressed upon the moral character; but
it is perhaps a great thing, if, when everything is
present by which we are thought to become good,
we can partake of virtue.

6.	But it is thought that men become good, some
Ways of by nature, others by practice, others by teaching,
becoming }tfow it is plain that whatever belongs to nature is
?0° ' not in our own power, but exists by some divine

causes in those who are truly fortunate. But rea-
soning and teaching, it is to be feared, will not
avail in every case, but the mind of the hearer must
be previously cultivated by habits to feel pleasure
and aversion properly, just as the soil must, which
nourishes the seed. For he who lives in obedience
. to passion, would not Hsten to reasoning which
turns him from it; nay, more, he would not under-
stand it. And how is it possible to change the
convictions of such a man as this ] On the whole,
it appears that passion does not submit to reasoning,
but to force. There must, therefore, previously exist

(( If to the sons of ,/Esculapius had been given
To cure the vices and bad hearts of men,

Many and great would their rewards have been. *CHAP. XX.]

ETHICS.

287

a character in some way connected with virtue,

loving what is honourable, and hating what is dis-
graceful.4 But to meet with right education in the 8.

path of virtue from childhood is difficult, unless one Education
is brought up under such laws : for to live tempe- ^f^ced ^
rately and patiently is not pleasant to the majority, ^wWce *
and especially to the young. Therefore, education
and institutions ought to be regulated by law; for
they will not be painful when they have become
familiar.u

Perhaps it is not sufficient that we should meet 9
with good education and attention when young; Education
but since when we arrive at manhood we ought aP;d disci"
also to study and practise what we have learnt, we
should require laws also for this purpose: in short, men as
we should want laws relating to the whole of life ; well as
for the masses are obedient to compulsion rather children,
than to reason, and to punishments rather than to
the principle of honour. Therefore, some think io.

that legislators ought to exhort to virtue, and to
urge men on by appealing to the principle of
honour, since those who are good in their practice
will obey when they are led; but to impose chas-
tisements and punishments on those who are dis-
obedient and naturally indisposed to virtue, and to
banish altogether the incurable ; because he who is
good, and lives with regard to the principle of
honour, will obey reason; but the bad man desires
pleasure, and is corrected by pain, like a beast of

1 In the original, icaro/cwxifiog, from fcar£%w. Hence the
signification of the word is, so disposed as to be restrained or
kept in check by virtuous principles.

u It is remarkable to observe how little practical benefit the
moral philosophers of antiquity seem to have felt would be
derived from their writings; what faint motives they could
urge to influence the generality of mankind. For how far
could the love of virtue in itself urge men to become virtuous,

who had no taste for virtue ? The very fact of loving virtue
for virtue's sake, pre-supposes a proficiency in morals far
beyond the general state of mankind. Some other motive was
then clearly necessary for men sunk in vice as the heathen
world, a powerful motive, which no heathen, no human philo*

sophy, could supply.288

ARISTOTLE'S

[book x«

11.	burthen. Therefore, it a common saying, that
the pains ought to be such as are most opposed to
tl e pleasures which are loved.

12.	Now, then, as has been said, he that is to be a good
Recapitu- man must have been educated well, and have been
htion. made to form good habits, and thus continue to

live under good institutions, and never practise
what is bad, either involuntarily or voluntarily; and
this is to be done by living in obedience to some
intelligent principle, and some right regulation,
which has the power of enforcing its decrees. But
the paternal authority has no strength, nor com-
pulsory force; nor, in short, the authority of any
one man, unless he is a king, or some one of that
sort; but the law does possess a compulsory power,
since it is reason proceeding from a certain pru-
dence and intelligence; and besides, men hate
those individuals who oppose their appetites, even
if they do it rightly; but the law is not odious

13.	when it prescribes what is good. In the city of
The ex- Lacedsemon alone, with a few others, the legislator
ample of seems to have paid attention to education and insti-

pai a* tutions; whilst in most states such matters have
been neglected, and each lives as he pleases, like
the Cyclops,

Administering the law for his children and wife.v

14.	It would therefore be best that the state should pay
Education attention to education, and on right principles, and
the state.0 ^at it should, have power to enforce it : but if

neglected as a public measure, it would seem to be
the duty of every individual to contribute to the
virtue of his children and friends, or at least to
make this his deliberate purpose.

15.	From what has been said, it would seem that a
man would be best able to do this if he made him-
self fit for legislation ; for public systems of educa-

* " Each rules his race, his neighbour not his care ;
Heedless of others, to his own severe."

Pope, Horn. Od. ix.

So also Juvenal (Sat. xiv.) describes a domestic tyrant as
•' Antiphates trepidi laris, ac Polyphemus."CHAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

289

tion are evidently made by the laws ; and those are
good which are made by good laws. But whether
these laws be written or unwritten would seem to
make no difference ; nor whether they are those by
which one or many persons are to be educated, as
it makes no difference in music, in gymnastics, and
other branches of education. For in the same way 13,

that legal enactments and customs have authority
in states, so also the words of a father, and customs,

have authority in private families; and still greater
authority on account of the relationship, and the
benefits conferred: for children have a natural affec-
tion for their parents, and are naturally disposed
to obey. Moreover, private education differs from
public : as is the case in medicine : for universallv "Pub^Jc am

•	private

abstinence and rest are good for a man in a fever; education

but to a particular individual perhaps they are not; compared.

and the pugilist perhaps does not use the same style

of fighting with all. It would seem, therefore, that 18.

the case of the individual might be studied with

greater accuracy, if the education was private ; for

then each is more likely to meet with what suits

him. But still a physician, or a gymnastic master,

or any other master, would take the best care of the

individual, if he knew the general rule, namely,

what is good for all men, or for all of a certain

class : for the sciences are said, and with truth, to

have to do with general rules.

Nevertheless, perhaps, there is nothing to hinder 19.
one from taking good care of an individual, even if
one has no scientific knowledge, but only accurately
examines by experience what happens to each
individual; as some physicians seem to be the best
physicians to themselves, although they are not
at all able to assist another. Perhaps it may be 20
thought that he who wishes to become skilled in
art, or fit to study any subject theoretically, should
no less have recourse to the universal, and make
himself acquainted with it, as far as may be ; for
we have said that the sciences have to do with the
universal. And perhaps he who wishes to make The study
y	of legisla290

ARISTOTLE'S

[book x.

tion neees- men better by education, -whether many or few,
educator11 s^on^ endeavour to become fit for the duties of a

2it legislator, if it is by laws that we become good.
For to give a good disposition to any one, and to
the particular person intrusted to him, is not in
the power of every one, but if of any, it is in the
power of him who possesses knowledge : as is the
case in medicine and other arts, in which it is pos-
sible to study and become wise.

22.	Should we not, then, after this, ascertain from
what sources, and by what means, a man might
become fitted for the duties of a legislator, or, as in
other cases, must he learn the science of legislation
from those who are skilled in politics 1 for it was

How legis- supposed to be a part of political science. Or does
lation is to the case of political science appear to be different
be taught. from that of the other sciences and faculties ? for
in the others the same men seem to teach the fa-
culties, and energize upon them; as, for example,

23.	physicians and painters. Now the sophists profess
Professions to teach politics, but not one of them is a practical
so hists politician; statesmen do this, who would seem to

do it in consequence of a kind of faculty, and from
experience rather than on any intellectual prin-
ciple : for they do not seem to write or to speak
upon such subjects (and yet it would perhaps be a
more honourable employment than to make forensic
speeches and public harangues) : nor do they seem
to make their own sons, or any others of their

24.	friends, politicians. But it is reasonable to suppose
that they would do so if they could; for they
could not have left any better legacy to their
fellow-citizens, nor could they have wished any
better thing for themselves than this faculty, nor
consequently to their best friends.

25.	However, experience seems to contribute not a
Advantages little; for otherwise men would not become better
HenceTo politicians by being accustomed to political affairs,
the poli- seems, therefore, that those who are desirous of
tieian. knowledge on political science, need also experience.

26.	But those sophists who profess it, seem to be veryCKAP. IX.]

ETHICS.

2 91

far from teaching it : for they do not at all know
either what is its specific nature, nor what is its
object-matter: for else they would not have
assumed it to be the same with rhetoric, or even
worse; nor would they have thought that it is
easy to legislate, merely by making a collection of
approved laws, because it is possible to select the
best; as if this selection were not a work requiring
intelligence ; and as if a correct discrimination
were not of the utmost importance here, just as it
is in music. For the experienced form a right 27»
judgment of works in every case, and understand
by what means, or how they will be accomplished,

and what sort of things harmonize with each other;

but the inexperienced may be contented, if they
are not ignorant whether the work is executed well
or ill, as in the case of painting. Now, laws are, 280
as it appears, " the works" of political science.
How then can a man from the study of these
become fit for the duties of a legislator, or select
the best ? for it does not appear that men become
physicians from studying prescriptions; and yet
the authors endeavour to state not only the cases,

but also in what manner they may be cured,

and the proper mode of treatment, distinguishing
the symptoms of each disease. But these are
thought useful to the experienced; but to those
who have no knowledge upon the subject, useless.

Perhaps, then, collections of laws and of consti- 29.
tutions w would be useful to those who are able to 11 ow tar
study the theory, and to decide what is done well, of1aws°arc
or the contrary, or what kind of laws are suitable useful,
to certain cases : but to those who go through such
collections without having formed a habit, the
power of forming a correct judgment cannot
belong, except it belongs to them spontaneously;
but perhaps they might thus become more intelli-
gent on these subjects. Since, therefore, all former
writers have passed over without examination the

w Aristotle himself wrote a treatise on this subject, which is
now lost to us.	*

u 2292

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [book x.

30.	subject of legislation, it would perhaps be better
Since for us examine it ourselves, and, in short, the
has been11 w^10^e subject of politics, in order that the philo-
passed over sophy of human nature may, as far as is in our
by others, power, be completed. First,x then, if anything
Aristotle has "been well said by our predecessors on any par-
wi^teon^he ^^cu^ar P°in^ let us endeavour to explain it : then
subject. from a comparison of the different forms of govern-

31.	ment, let us examine what kind of qualities pre-
serve and destroy commonwealths, and each par-
ticular form of government, and for what reasons
some are administered well, and others the contrary:
for when these points are considered, we shall
perhaps be better able to have a comprehensive
view of what form of government is best, and how
each is regulated, and what are its laws and insti-
tutions. Let us then make a commencemeu t

x Aristotle here prepares the reader for the three parts into
which his Politics is divided. Namely :—(1.) Books 1. II.
(2.) III.—VI. (3.) VII. VIII.QUESTIONS

TO

THE MCOMACHEAN ETHICS

OF ARISTOTLE.

BOOK I.

CHAP. I.

Contrast the ethical system of Aristotle with that of Plato,
and illustrate your assertions by quotations from his works.
Define the chief good.

Of what science does Aristotle consider the chief good to
be the end 1

What are the subdivisions of that science
Of how many ethical treatises was Aristotle the author 1
Kame them, and state what you know respecting each.
Explain fully the terms ip£pyeia, '£pyov, SvvafjiiQ^

Show that the ends of tETcHef arts are superior to those
of the subordinate arts.

CHAP. II.

Show the practical utility of the knowledge of the chief
good.

Prove that the political, i. e. the science of social life, is
the master science.

What arts are comprehended under it 1
Show that Aristotle's doctrine of the subordination of
ethics to politics harmonizes with the way in which the294

QUESTIONS TO THE

[eook i.

Greeks viewed tlie relation between an individual and the
state.

CHAP. III.

What do you mean by an exact sciei ce ?

Give instances in illustration.

Sliow that neither politics nor ethics are exact sciences,
On what does exactness depend 1
Distinguish between necessary and contingent matter.
How are men qualified to judge of subjects ?

Why is a young man not a fit student of ethics 1
What do you mean by a young man ?

CHAP. IY.

What is the good aimed at by the political science 1
What is the name universally given to it ?

Mention different theories respecting it.

Which of these is the Platonic theory %

Explain fully the difference between analytical and syn-
thetical reasoning.

What is to direct us in the selection of either of these
two methods %

Distinguish between empirical and scientific knowledge.
What previous education is necessary for the ethical
student ?

Quote the passage from Hesiod given in this chapter.
CHAP. Y.

How many theories of happiness does Aristotle enumerate
in this chapter 1

Why does he enumerate so many ?

Name them, and show their incorrectness.

Explain the terms esoteric, exoteric, encyclic, and acroa-
matie.

Give Cicero's definition (de Fin. Y. v.), and show its in-
correctness.

In what part of this treatise does Aristotle consider the
contemplative life %CKAP» VII.1

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

295

Why does he defer it so long 1

Explain the term fiiaiog.

Show that wealth cannot be the chief good.

CHAP. VI.

Explain Plato's doctrine of the idea.

Distinguish between Idea and dcoc.

Does Aristotle fully examine the truth or falsehood of
Plato's theory or not ?

Distinguish between " idea " and " abstract idea."

What points in Plato's theory does Aristotle show to be
inconsistent with the doctrine that " the good " is an idea ?
Has Aristotle's behaviour to Plato ever been impugned 1
State what you can in his defence.

Distinguish between aptOfxot elhrjTiicol, and avixt>\riToL
Name the ten categories.

Give an account of Pythagoras and Speusippus.

What is meant by the (rvaroL^la rtiv ayadwv ?

How is the argument affected by the division of goods
into two classes 1

What are those classes 1 Give examples.

If in different things the definition of their goodness
differs, how do you account for the common name 1

After all, what is the principal objection to the ideal
theory ?

If the idea existed, would it be practically useful 1
CHAP. VII.

Explain the meaning of deliberate preference (jpoaLpecic).
"By a different path our argument has arrived at the
same point." Explain this.

How many degrees of finality are there ?

Prove that happiness is final, "per se," and self-sufficient.
Explain self-sufficiency.

What is the epyov of any species.

What, therefore, is the epyov of man ?

State the successive steps by which Aristotle builds up
kis definition of happiness.

Define happiness.296

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book i,

Explain the meaning of JjIoq tsXeioq.

By what methods are first principles obtained ?

Explain the meaning of the term induction, taking the
lihetoric as your authority.

CHAP. VIII.

"What is Aristotle's object in quoting prevalent opinions
on the subject of happiness 1
State those mentioned by him.

To what philosophers are they to be attributed 2
To what sect of philosophers is the threefold division of
goods due %	v

What sect adopted this division ?

"What three qualities are combined in Aristotle's notion oi
happiness 1

Quote the Delian inscription.

How far is external prosperity necessary to happiness ?
CHAP. IX-

What three questions does Aristotle discuss as to the
source of happiness ?

How does he settle that of its being of divine origin ?

Does this illustrate his practical turn of mind T

Why does it not come by chance %

Prove that it is acquired by training.

Why cannot brutes be called happy 1

How far can children be called so %

CHAP. X.

In what sense is the happiness of the dead consistent
with Aristotle's theory 1

What idea would you form of Aristotle's opinion respect-
ing the condition of man after death, from this or any other
part of his works h

Quote any passages from ancient authors which embody
the prevalent views on this subject.

State the different steps in Aristotle's examination of
Solon's saying.chap, xiii.]	NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

297

What conclusion would you draw from this chapter gene-
rally as to Aristotle's opinion of the relation between happi- .
ness and the accidents of fortune ?

What is the only source of wretchedness2
Explain the expression hcavujg Kexoprjyn^og.

Distinguish between fxaKapiog and evdcdf.nov.

When we call men happy, with what reservation do we
do so ?

CHAP. XL

What does Aristotle think of the degree in which the
daad are affected by the good or ill-fortune of the living h

Does he think that their happiness is increased or
diminished thereby?

How does he illustrate his opinion with reference to Greek
tragedy ?

Quote parallel passages from Horace and Cicero.

CHAP. XII.

To what class of things does happiness belong ?

Can it be a capacity ?

What are the characteristics of things praised %
Can happiness be of the number of these 1
What objects are beyond praise 1

What was Eudoxus's opinion ? and how far did it agiee
with that of Aristotle ?

Who was Eudoxus ?

Distinguish between praise and encomium.

CHAP. XIIL

Why is it requisite to inquire into the nature of virtue ?
Why of human virtue ?

How does this lead to the necessity of an analysis of the
nature of the soul %

How far is the investigation to be carried 1
How many parts are there of the soul 1
Are these necessarily physically divisible ?

What are they 1298

QUESTIONS TO THE

[BOOK lit

What are the subdivisions of the iiTational part 1

With which of these is virtue concerned ?

Whence arises a doubt as to the manner in which the
division should be made ?

Draw out tabular views of the divisions according as you
adopt one or other principle.

Compare the Greek word \bvxv with the Latin words
'minims and anima.

How does the division of the soul lead to a division o!
virtues h

BOOK II.

CHAP. I.

How many kinds of virtues are there ?

How is each produced ]

State the verbal argument of which Aristotle makes use
here.

Mention any other verbal arguments which he uses.

Is the use of verbal arguments to be expected from the
tenor of his philosophy ?

By how many arguments does he prove that moral virtue
is not a natural gift 1

State them, and give some of the examples which he
adduces in illustration.

Show how his argument bears on the question of education.

CHAP. II.

Show from examples the truth of Aristotle's assertion
that this treatise is eminently practical.

What does he mean by ov SniopictQ IvtKa dWep cu a Wat 1

What relation does right reason (opdog koyog) bear to
virtue generally I

In what part of his treatise does he enter upon the sub-
ject of right reason fully h

Why is it more appropriate there than here '1CHAP. V.]

N1COMACHEAN ETHICS.

299

Why should the discussion of the moral virtues precedo
that of the intellectual ?

Why is it unadvisable to lay down particular rules of
conduct'?

Would it interfere with our moral responsibility?

Show by example that what is right is destroyed by
excess and defect.

Show how the moral habits, and the means of forming
them, act reciprocally on each other.

CHAP. III.

What are the tests of habits being perfected 1

Prove that pleasures and pains are the object-matter of
moral virtue.

What Stoical doctrine respecting virtue is refuted in this
chapter %

CHAP. IY

What objection might be brought to Aristotle's theory of
the formation of moral habits 1

State his answers to this objection.

(1.) By denying the fact.

(2.) By denying the parallelism of the cases.

What is the difference between the arts and the virtues 1

Distinguish between 7rpayfjia and ttjoat;ig.

Show how the one may be right and the other wrong.

Give examples.

State the physical analogy by which Aristotle illustrates
the uselessness of mere theorizing.

CHAP. Y.

Define genus, species, differentia.

Define and explain TraOrj, dvvajbieig, e'feic.

Proye that neither virtue nor vice can be a wciOog.

Prove that they cannot be Svvajuetg.

What then is the genus of virtue 1

What mode of reasoning is adopted in this chapter 1300

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book III.

CHAP. VI.

What is the signification of the term, apery generally ?
What as applied to man 1
How many kinds of means are there 1
Give examples of each.

Which is according to arithmetical proportion 1
How does every one who possesses kwiarrjfir] act with
respect to the mean 1

Does the rule apply to both feelings and actions 1
From these considerations deduce the differentia of virtue.
Apply the Pythagorean argument here mentioned to
arrive at the same conclusion.

From the previous steps derive the definition of virtue.
Show how virtue can be both a mean and an extreme.
What actions and passions are incapable of a mean state

CHAP. "VII.

What advantage results from applying general statements
to particular cases 1

What does Aristotle allude to when he uses the term

diaypa(f){] ?

Apply the definition of virtue to the following particular
cases:—

(1.) Fear and confidence.

(2.) Pleasures and pains.

(3.) Giving and receiving.

(4.) Honour and dishonour (great).

(5.) Honour and dishonour (small).

(6.) Anger.

(7.) The social virtues.

(a.) Truth.

(b.) Relaxation.

(c.) Friendliness.

&pply these statements to the cases of feelings,
(a.) Shame.

(b.) Indignation.CHAP. 1.]

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

301

CHAP. YIIL

Explaiu and illustrate the opposition between the mean
and the extremes; and between the extremes with regard
to each other.

Show that the mean is not always equi-distant from the
extremes.

How many reasons are there for this fact 1

Illustrate one by the case of courage, and the oth^r by tha
case of temperance.	y

CHAP. IX.

Why is virtue difficult of acquirement, and excellence
rare, praiseworthy, and honourable 1

State the practical rule which Aristotle here gives for
attaining the mean.

Quote the illustrative passage from the Odyssey.

What practical rule will result from the knowledge of our
natural propensity 1

What bias must we especially guard against ?

Quote the illustrative passage from the Iliad respecting
Helen.

How much must after all be left to the moral sense ?

BOOK III.

CHAP. I.

Why is it necessary to consider the subject of the voxun*
tary and involuntary ?

Why is it useful to legislators to do so ?

How many kinds of involuntary actions are enumerated
by Aristotle 1

What other class is there which he has omitted 1
Explain and illustrate the meaning of the expression
* mixed actions."502

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book iii>

Do mixed actions most resemble voluntary or involuntary
actions h "Why is this ?

How many kinds of mixed actions are there 1
What practical difficulty is there in judging of these
actions 1

Show that things pleasant and honourable are not com-
pulsory.

What does Aristotle mean by non-voluntary actions 1
What place does repentance occupy in Aristotle's theory 1
Explain the difference between ayvoCjv and $£ ayvoiav.
When is ignorance pardonable/and when not ?

Define to ikovctiov.

Why are actions done through anger or desire voluntary 1
CHAP. II.

Explain what is meant by deliberate preference ; show that
it is the principle of all moral action, and that it determines
the character of every act.

What are the erroneous views respecting it mentioned by
Aristotle 1

Prove that it is not—

(1.) Desire.

(2.) Anger.

(3.) Yolition.

(4.) Opinion either general or particular.

Give its real and nominal definitions.

CHAP. Ill

Define what is the subject of deliberation.

Enumerate the four tilings which cannot come within its
sphere.

About what matters then do we deliberate 1
What is meant by the illustration that the diagonal and
the side of a square are incommensurable 1

Why do we deliberate about the arts more than about the
sciences 1

Are any arts excluded 1

What division of the sciences did the Greeks adopt ?CHAF. r.l

ICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

303

Which of these divisions may be made the subjects of
deliberation ?

What is the office of deliberation ?

Are ends or means its matter 1

Describe the process of deliberation.

When do we cease to deliberate 1

Apply the illustration given from Homer.

Does this remind you of the psychical theory of Plato ?

Define irpocupeariQ.

CHAP. IY.

What is the object of volition ?

What are the difficulties in the way of determining this
question 1

Solve these difficulties.

Compare the statement made respecting volition in
Rhet. I. x.

Mention the physical analogies adduced here by Aristotle.

How do good and bad men differ on this point ?

How does pleasure influence volition 1

CHAP. Y.

State Socrates's opinion respecting the freedom of the
will.

State the successive steps in the argument by which Aris-
totle proves that vice is voluntary.

What does the conduct both of legislators and individuals
prove respecting their opinions on this question 1

What does Bishop Butler say on this point in his chapter
on Necessity 1

Does the way in which ignorance is treated support
Aristotle's view'?

How is drunkenness and ignorance of the law dealt with 1

What is the effect of wilful sin on the moral sense1

To what conclusion does this effect lead us in judging of
confirmed habits of vice ?

State any physical analogies in support of Aristotle's
doctrine.

Answer the objection "that men have no control over304

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book III,

their imaginations, and tlaerefore are not responsible fot
their opinions."

Answer the objection " that the aiming at the end ia
not a matter of choice."

Show that such arguments prove too much.

Are acts and habits voluntary in the same manner or
degree 1

CHAP. VI.

"Why does Aristotle discuss courage an:l temperance in
this part of his treatise %

On what subjects is courage a mean state 1
Has courage reference to evils of all kinds 1
What kinds are excluded %

Why then is a man called brave with reference to these ?
Are there any evils, which it is our duty not to fear, in
which, nevertheless, a man is not called brave 1
Are there any which a brave man ought to fear 1
In what cases then will the brave man show courage ?
In what kinds of deaths especially ?

Does Aristotle take notice of moral courage ?

What does Aristotle say of the courage of sailors 1

CHAP. VII.

How many divisions are there of <j>o€epa 1
Name them.

In what ways are faults possible as regards fear and
confidence h

What relation does the end bear to the habit 1
Define "the brave man."

What is the brave man's motive ?

Name the excess and defect.

Desciibe the characters of the rash and the coward.

Show that the three characters are all conversant with
the same things.

What is Aristotle's opinion of suicide ?

Show by examples and quotations how hr it agr ses or
disagrees with opinions generally prevalent in Greece.BttAP. X.]

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS,

CHAP. VIII.

How many imperfect forms of courage are there 1

Name them.

What are the motives to that which is called 7ro\n ncl] ?

Show by examples that this is the courage displayed by
Homer's heroes.

Why does this kind most nearly resemble gennine courage 1

Do those who are brave under compulsion belong to this
class 1

Explain and illustrate the courage which proceeds ek tt}g

kfJLTTEipiciQ*

What was Socrates's opinion, and how does it bear u).on
his moral theory 1

What was the affair in the Hermseum to which he alludes '{■

Show that by Svjuog Aristotle means mere animal instinct.

Why are the sanguine brave ?

How does the courage of the ignorant resemble that of
the sanguine ?

Illustrate any of these forms of courage by instances from
either poets or historians.

CHAP. IX.

Show that courage has more to do with ^o€epa than
SappaXect.

Show (1) that it is ettiXvttov.

Show (2) that it is more difficult to acquire than tem-
perance.

Is a brave man less brave for feeling pain 1

Is he more so for that reason 1

How far does energizing with pleasure belong to all the
virtues ?

CHAP. X.

To what part of the soul do courage and temperance
belong 1

Define temperance and intemperance.

How many divisions of pleasure does Aristotle make ?

X306

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book iv,

Give examples of each.

State the subdivisions of the corporeal pleasures.

With what class of pleasures is temperance conversant ?

Analyze the argument by which Aristotle arrives at this
conclusion.

How is Aristotle's theory illustrated by the case of brute
animals %

What distinction does Aristotle draw between the plea-
sures of touch, and to which does he limit the province of
intemperance 1

CHAP. XI.

State the divisions of h-mOv/iUii.

In which of these is error rare, and in which frequent 1

How far may both these classes of desires be said to be
natural 1

How is the temperate man affected with regard to
pleasures h

How with regard to pains h

In this latter respect, distinguish between the temperate
and the courageous man.

Why has the vice in the defect with respect to pleasure
no name 1

Describe the character of the temperate man.

CHAP. XII.

Which is more voluntary, intemperance or cowardice ?

State the reasons.

Draw a distinction in both cases between the voluntariness
of the habit and of the particular acts.

What analogy is there between aKokavla and the faults cf
children ?

What does Aristotle mean by an obedient and disciplined

state 1

What rules does he give for attaining this state 1chap. i.]	nicomachean ethics.

m

BOOK IV.

CHAP. L

Define liberality.

Show tlie correctness of tliis definition.

Define property.

What are the excess and defect of this virtue 1
Is the term prodigality used in more senses than one r(
Is liberality shown more in giving or in receiving 1
Account for this.

For what virtue are those who abstain from receiving
improperly rather commended 1

What is the motive of the liberal man 1
In what manner will he exercise this virtue 1
Is the man who gives with pain a liberal man ?

State some of the characteristics of the liberal man.
(1.) In respect to receiving.

(2.) In respect to giving.

In relation to what must we judge of a man's liberality 1
Illustrate the answer to this question by examples.

What is Aristotle's opinion of those who make their own
fortunes 1

Is it easy for a liberal man to do so 1
Distinguish between the liberal and prodigal man.

1.)	In giving.

2.)	In receiving.

Can monarchs be prodigal 1
In what cases would the liberal man feel pain 1
Why is Simonides used as an illustration of this subject r(
Define and compare together prodigality and illiberality.
Why are both characteristics of prodigality seldom found
in the same person 1

Why is the prodigal man thought better than the
illiberal 1

Which does most harm socially, the miser or the spend-
thrift?

xS308

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book iv.

State some of the principal peculiarities in the cliaractei
of tlie prodigal man.

Account for the union of profuseness and illiberality in
the same person.

"Why is illiberality incurable %

Mention the different modes of illiberality.

Are all called illiberal who receive gain from, improper
sources 1

What distinctions then do you make h
CHAP. II.

Define magnificence.

Show in what it differs from liberality.

Show, by reference to the public duties of an Athenian
citizen, the great importance of this virtue.

Give an account of the Athenian Xsirovpyiai.

On what does propriety depend fl
Name the excess and defect.

Does magnificence imply	h

What is the motive h

Give examples of public and private magnificence.

Gan a poor man be magnificent 1

Describe the characters of the fiavawog and fiLKpoTrpeTriig.
What is the parode of a comedy h

Why are the Megareans introduced as an example here h

CHAP. III.

What is the object-matter of magnanimity ?

Does Aristotle examine this virtue in the abstract or the
concrete 1

Does he pursue the same plan in any other cases 1

Define the magnanimous man.

Define the modest man.

Name and define the excess and defect.

Contrast heathen and Christian magnanimity.

Mention examples of both.

Give some illustrations of the idea which the Greeks had
of personal beauty.

Show how taste and the idea of beauty enter into their
qi oral system.chap, v.]	NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

309

Distinguish between rifir] and to kciXov,

In what way is the magnanimous man conversant with

Ttfxrj %

What does Aristotle mean by saying that magnanimity
is KOcrfiOQ tojv aperwv %

State some peculiarities in the character of the magnani-
mous man :—

(1.) As to honour.

(2.) As to wealth.

(3.^ As to courage.

(4.) As to liberality.

(p.) As to asking favours.

(6.) As to seeking honour.

(7.) As to truth.

(8.^ As to friendship.

(9.) As to manners and conduct.

(10.) As to his gait; speech, &c.

Why are magnanimous men thought supercilious ?
How does good fortune contribute to magnanimity ?

What is the meaning of elpojvela 1
Is the magnanimous man ever eiptov 1
Describe the fiiKpo-^vxoQ, and the ycivvoQ.

Which is most opposed to the mean, and which is worse $

CHAP. IV.

What virtue is there whi$h has to do with the sane
habit as the former ?

Has Aristotle treated of it before 1
What relation does it bear to magnanimity 1
Illustrate this by referring to liberality.

Whence arises the difficulty of assigning a name to this
virtue 1

Why do the extremes assume the appearance of the mean %

CHAP. Y.

Define meekness, and name the extremes.

Describe the character of the meek.

Is the defect blamed ?

Show that the excess takes place in all the categories310

QUESTIONS TO THE

[POOK V,

How many species are there of the excess 1

Name them, and distinguish between them.

Which extreme is furthest from the mean ?

"What milder terms do we apply to slight transgressions ?

How must the extent and nature of transgression be
decided 1

CHAP. YI.

Show, from what is known of Athenian life and manners,
the importance of treating of the social virtues.

Name the extremes.

Will the term " politeness " designate the mean habit ?

Distinguish between the mean and friendship.

What is the end and aim of the polite h

Within what limits will he aim at giving pleasure ?

Distinguish between ifivg and cwegkoq,

CHAP. YII.

Describe the truthful character, and also the excess and
defect.

In what limited sense is the term truthfulness here used h

Is truthfulness more shown in matters of great or of little
moment ?

Distinguish between him who makes pretensions with,
and him who makes them without a motive.

Show the possible connection between false modesty and
arrogance.

Give example

Which is the worst of the two extremes 1

CHAP. VIII.

Name and describe the social virtue in periods of relax-
ation.

What is the etymological meaning of the term evrpairekia

Name and describe the extremes.

Why does one extreme sometimes get the credit of being
the mean?

What do you mean by ta.ct ?CHAP. I.]

NICOMACHEAN ETHTCS.

311

Contrast the character, m respect to this virtue, of the
educated and uneducated.

How is this difference illustrated by Athenian comedy ?
What considerations will regulate the behaviour of him
who jests with propriety 1

Distinguish between the three social virtues.

CHAP. IX.

Define sense of shame.

Is it a passion or a habit ?

To what period of life is it especially becoming h
Show that a sense of shame is no part of the character of
a good man.

In what sense is shame a worthy feeling 1
What kind of virtue is continence 1
Where does he speak of it more fully

BOOK V.

CHAP. I.

State Plato's theory of universal justice.

Show how far the views of Plato and Aristotle on the
subject of justice coincide.

Define justitia expletrix and justitia attributrix.

When the latter of these is termed distributive justice, is
the expression used in Aristotle's sense 1

In what way has Aristotle treated the subject of justicc
in the Rhetoric ?

How does he investigate the subject here 1

Define justice and injustice.

What point of difference does Aristotle speak of as exist-
ing between capacities, sciences, and habits ?

Does this furnish us with a means of ascertaining the
nature of habits ?

In how many senses are the terms just and unjust used %

Why is it difficult to distinguish between them 1312

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book tr

State and explain these senses.

Distinguish between b^tovvfia and crvvwvvfjca.

What is the object of laws ?

Show that universal justice is perfect virtue, not abso-
lutely, but relatively.

Show the difference between universal justice and perfect
virtue.

CHAP. II.

Why is particular justice the object of Aristotle's inves-
tigation h

Show how universal injustice differs from particular.

Show that all acts of particular injustice may be termed
acts of 7rXeovelLa.

What are the subdivisions of particular justice ]
How many sorts of transactions are there 1
Give examples of each.

CHAP. III.

Show that a just act implies four terms at least.

Of what will those terms consist ?

Which justice is Aristotle here considering 2

According to what proportion is it h

How many sorts of geometrical proportion are there 2

Which kind is here spoken of h

CHAP. IY.

Show that in corrective justice arithmetical proportion la
to be observed.

How far are the persons to be considered ?

In this justice, what is " the just" a mean between ?

In what sense is the judge a mean ?

How is the mean determined %

What is the etymology of oUaiov I

Illustrate Aristotle's theory by a diagram.

Account for the use of the term loss and gain.CHAP. VIII,J

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

313

CHAP. V,

What was the Pythagorean notion of justice %

Is it a correct one %

Show the difference between commutative justice and
distributive and corrective justice.

Show the necessity of observing analogy.

Explain, and illustrate by examples and by a diagram, the
meaning of the expression " diametrical conjunction."

Prove the necessity, in dealings between man and man, of
a common measure of value.

What is that common measure, and what its representative ?

Why is money called vofxtafia %

What is the use of money with reference to future
exchange 1

Is money, strictly speaking, an invariable standard h

In what respect does justice differ from the other virtues %

Define injustice.

CHAP. YL

Distinguish between moral and political justice.

Show that, according to the principles of political justice,
an unjust act does not necessarily imply moral injustice.

How far does the idea of justice enter into the relations of
masters and servants, parents and children, <fcc. 1

CHAP. VIL

What are the divisions of political justice 1

Explain and illustrate each of them.

Prove the existence of natural justice, and refute the
objections.

Distinguish between ackrjfjia and ciSucov, also between
CLKalcjfia, hiicaiov, and B tKai07rp ay

CHAP. VIIL

What determines the justice and injustice of an act 1

How does Aristotle here define and explain the term
voluntary V9514

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book vi

How many kinds of /3Xd€at are there I

Is Aristotle's division quite correct 1

State them, and give the corresponding Latin terms.

Describe and give examples of arvxn^b cifxaprrjfxa, and

a^iKYifxa,

Are acts done through anger unjust 1
Give Aristotle's definition of anger in the Rhetoric.
Distinguish between human passions and natural appetites.
Are acts done under the influence of these pardonable or
unpardonable 1

CHAP. IX.

Can a man be injured with his own consent 1
Is a man always injured when unjustly dealt with 1
Can a man injure himself 1
Illustrate this question by the case of Glaucus.

Does the giver of too much, or the receiver, commit the
act of injustice ?

Refute the following common errors :—

(1.) That as to act unjustly is always in our power, to

act justly is so likewise.

(2.) That it is easy to know what is just and what is
unjust.

(3.) That a just man can do an act of injustice.

In what sense does Aristotle use the expression cnrXwc
ayada here 1

CHAP. X.

Distinguish between justice and equity.

How has Aristotle treated the subject of equity in the
Rhetoric 1

Show that justice and equity are not opposed.

Define equity, and show its superiority to justice.

In what does law fail of its object %

Why does it fail 1

What is the use of equity ?

Define the equitable man.

Explain the proverb " Summum jus, summa injuria."chap, i.j	NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

315

CHAP. XI.

Prove tJiaej a. man cannot injure himself.

(1.) In "universal justice.

(2.) In particular justice.

According to tlie principles of Greek law, " Quse lex non
jubet vetataccording to those of ours, " Quse lex non
vetat permittitaccount for this difference.

Why is it worse to do, than to suffer injustice %

Can the contrary be true accidentally 1

Does this consideration come within the province of
science ?

Show that metaphorically a man can injure himself.

BOOK VI.

*

CHAP. I.

What is Aristotle's object in treating of the intellectual
virtues %

What course does he consequently pursue %

Why is it necessary to examine the nature of dpdog Xoyogl

Define right reason.

What connection is there between right reason and
prudence ?

Show from Aristotle's theory of the relation of reason tc
virtue, the practical superiority of his system to that of
Plato and Socrates.

Whence arises the difficulty of examining the nature of
right reason ?

Divide the rational soul according to the matter with
which it is conversant.

In this division, in what sense is Xo'yoc used ?

How are genus and differentia ascertained 1

Distinguish between subjectum materiale and subjectum
formale316

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book vi.

CHAP. IL

Name the three principles which influence moral action
and truth.

Which of these is the principle of moral action 1
In what sense are vovq and diavoia here used ?

Distinguish between vovq and Ziavoia.

How do we discover the virtue of each part of the soul ?
Show that truth is the epyov of both parts.

Explain the relation which subsists between diavota,
7rpoalp£(TLQj and ope'&Q in moral action.

What matter comes within the province of deliberation %

CHAP. III.

Name the five intellectual habits.

Why are supposition and opinion excluded %

Arrange these habits in a table, according to their matter.
How many kinds of necessity are there according to
Aristotle ?

Distinguish between them.

How is science acquired %

From what two sources is all learning derived 1
Explain syllogism and induction.

Define science.

CHAP. IY.

How many kinds of contingent matter are there 1
Distinguish between Troirja-iQ and irpd^ig.

With what three processes is art conversant ?

Explain the connection between art and chance.

Define rij^vr} and areyvia.

CHAP. Y.

By what process does Aristotle arrive at tiio investigation
of (f)p6vr)(TLQ ?

In what other cases has he pursued a similar one 1
State the characteristics of the prudent man.chap, VIII.]	NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

317

Distinguish between <j)povr}(riQ and £7rtcrrrjfiii.

Define it really and nominally.

Support Aristotle's definition by reference to general
opinion.

Show the moral effect of intemperance.

Has intemperance any effect upon science 1
What is the difference between prudence and art 1
Of what part of the soul is prudence the virtue ?

Which part does Aristotle here term to So^chttlkov ?
Why are virtuous energies more stable than those of
science ?

Has Aristotle alluded to this fact before ?

CHAP. VI.

With what is vovq conversant ?

Give Aristotle's definitions both here and in the magna
moralia.

Show that the habit 7repl apx&v canilot be science or art,
or prudence or wisdom.

What kind of reasoning is this called ?

CHAP. VII.

What does crofpia signify when applied to the arts?

What is its general signification 1

Give instances of different applications of the term.

How many kinds of aroyia are there %

Prove that it is the most accurate of all the sciences.

Of what two intellectual habits is it composed h

How does it differ from typovrjffLg 1

Why is it practically important to establish this difference 1
Show how it differs from the political science.

Support the distinction drawn between wisdom and pru-
dence by reference to general opinion.

Show that prudence has to do with particulars as well as
universals.

CHAP. VIII.

How far are prudence and the political science similar,
and how far do they differ 1518

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book Vi.

Name the different species of prudence.

Exhibit them in a table.

Can the prudence which relates to the individual be
really separated from the other kinds ?

Why can a young man be votyog, but not <j>povifjioQ 1
Show how prudence differs from science and intuition.
What does Aristotle here mean by to 'kayarov 1
What faculty takes cognizance of these layara 1

CHAP. IX.

What relation do deliberation and investigation bear to
one another 1

Show that ev^ovXia is not—

(1.) Science.

(2.) Happy conjecture.

Show what kind of an opOorr/c it is.

In how many ways may correctness be predicated 1
Give Aristotle's definition of evtovkia.

CHAP. X.

Show that intelligence is neither science nor opinion.
With what subjects is it conversant ?

How does it differ from prudence 1
What is its province 1

Is it exactly synonymous with judgment or not 1
CHAP. XI.

Define candour, and distinguish it from intelligence.
Define ovyyv(o\xy\, and state in what its correctness consists.
Explain the connection between candour and other intel-
lectual habits.

Compare the sense in which vovq is used here with that
in which it has been used previously.

Is there any inconsistency in this twofold use of the term 1
Explain the expression crvXk6yic>faoq t&v ttpwcr wv.

Show that the minor premiss is the origin of the motive.
Explain why the habits here discussed have been held to
be natural.

Show the importance of attention to authority.CHAi'. xiii.) NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

CHAR XII.

State the objections which, have been urged to the utility
of wisdom and prudence.

What is meant by the objection that wisdom relates to no
act of generation or production 1

State the argument on which the objections are founded.

1.)	That prudence is useless to one who has virtue.

2.)	That it is so to one who has not yet attained it.

"What illustration is here adduced 1

In how many senses is vyieivov used ?

In which of these significations is it used here 1

"What objection is founded on the relative importance of
wisdom and prudence 1

Refute these objections.

(1.) By showing that even if that which is alleged be
granted, still the objection will not hold good.

(2.) By denying the allegation altogether.

Prove that prudence is inseparable from moral virtue.

Show the usefulness of prudence as regards the tpyov.

Explain what is meant by heivorriQ, state its relation to
(ppovr)(TiQ and iravovpyla.

Exhibit the process of moral action in a syllogistic form.

Which part of this syllogism is capable of being discerned
only by a good man %

CHAP. XIII.

Distinguish between natural virtue and virtue proper.

Show that the relation between them is the same as that
between cleverness and prudence.

Show how far Socrates was right, and how far wrong, in
his view of the connection between virtue and prudence.

What change must be made in the expression tear opOor
\oyov, and why 1

In what sense may it be said with truth that the virtues
are separable 1'

Is there any ambiguity in the use of the term (ppovrjaig in
tbis cJiapter 1£20

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book VII

BOOK VII.

CHAP. I.

Explain the difference in the mode of treating- the subject
of virtue and vice here, and in the former books.

Name the three things to be avoided in respect of morals,
and also their opposites.

Amongst whom is brutality chiefly found 1

What virtues and vices does Aristotle here propose to
speak of 1

In what manner does he propose to treat of them 1

State the seven common opinions which he proposes foi
discussion.

CHAP. II.

What was Socrates's opinion respecting incontinence 1

Trace this opinion to the theory of virtue.

Show that his system is at variance with what we see.

How have some people endeavoured to modify the views
of Socrates ?

Befute the doctrine that the incontinent man possesses only
opinion, and not knowledge.

Prove that he cannot possess prudence.

Prove that continence and intemperance are incompatible.

Prove that continence does not make a man abide by
every opinion.

How does the case of Neoptolemus illustrate this 1

Explain the sophistical argument ipevSo/jevog, and show
how it is applicable as an illustration here.

Show that, on the supposition that the continent abides by
every opinion, the intemperate is better and more easily
cured than the incontinent.

What observation does Aristotle make on the seventh
opinion enumerated ?CHAP. IV.]

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

*21

CHAP. III.

State the three questions which Aristotle here especially
proposes for investigation.

What two points does he consider it necessary first to
determine ?

State the comparison which he draws between the intem-
perate and the incontinent as the result of this investigation.

Why does it not matter whether a man acts contrary to a
true opinion or to science h

Illustrate this from the example of HeracLLtus.

Explain fully the four ways in which the incontinent acts
contrary to knowledge.

Explain wRat is meant by the expressions to kciOoXov
eavrov and to KadoXov kirl tov 7rpctyfj,aTO£.

How do lunatics generally act %

Is the giving utterance to good moral sentiments a proof
of virtuous character h

Is the reverse a proof of the contrary character 1
In the fourth method which Aristotle discusses, why is
the subject said to be treated physically 1
Why cannot brutes be called incontinent ?

From whom must we learn how the incontinent can regain
knowledge 1

Show how far the view elicited in this chapter is in
harmony with that of Socrates.

CHAP. IY.

Which of the seven common opinions (c. i.) does Aristotle
here discuss 1

In order to this, what division does he make of the causes
which produce pleasure 1
Give examples of each.

To which class does he confine incontinence Kara fiepoQ 1
For what reason is the vice in this case called incontinence 1
Explain Aristotle's illustration of the oXvfnrLoviKrjQ.
Describe the character of the aKparijc aTrXtic.

What relation subsists between effeminacy a ad inconti
nonce 1

Y322

QUESTIONS TO THE

[hook VII,

"Winch, is worse to yield to, strong or slight temptations ?

Do you find a similar maxim in the Rhetoric with respect
to injustice 1

Why does he make another division of pleasures here ?

In what pleasures does even excess never amount to
uoy(8r]pla %

Give examples.

Does incontinence (clttXCjc) exist in respect of them 1
CHAR V.

How does pleasure affect the consideration of the subject
of brutality ?

Give examples of S-qpwrriQ.

From how many causes is brutality produced*?

Show that you cannot properly term brutality vicious.

Can brutal propensities be resisted and overcome ?

CHAP. YI.

Prove that incontinence of appetite is worse than incon-
tinence of anger.

What does Aristotle say in his Rhetoric on the subject of
anger %

Illustrate this chapter by reference to Bishop Butler's
sermon on resentment.

Show that anger acts according to the suggestions of
reason.

Show that anger is more natural than desire.

Show that it is less insidious.

Support this by a quotation from Homer.

How is the fact, that pain, and not pleasure, accompanies
anger, a proof of the point in question 1

How does v&piQ (wanton insolence) affect the consideration
of the question ?

What does Aristotle say of v£pig in the Rhetoric h

With which of the two divisions of bodily pleasures here
given are temperance and intemperance conversant 1

Can we speak of brute beasts or insane persons as tempe-
rate and intemperate ?

Why can we not ?CHAV. IX.]

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

323

Can any comparison in point of badness be instituted
between vice and brutality %

CHAP. YII.

What distinction does Aristotle draw between continence
and patience ?

What between intemperance and incontinence ?

Is intemperance attended with an inclination to repent-
ance?

Is it incurable 1

Which is the worse, intemperance, incontinence, or effemi-
nacy 1

What does Aristotle mean by rpvfr) ?

In what way does he illustrate its nature 1

In what case is incontinence pardonable 1

Mention the subdivisions of incontinence.

CHAP. VIII.

Why are the kKorariKol less blameable than other inconti-
nent persons 1

How far is incontinence to be considered a vice ?

Illustrate this by the saying of Demodocus.

Prove that the intemperate is incurable, but the inconti-
nent not.

*

CHAP. IX.

Has the question " whether the continent is the same as
he who adheres to his opinion " been proposed before 1
* In how many ways may it be considered 1

State them accurately.

Show that from the first two an absurdity necessarily
arises.

Show that from the third a fresh distinction between con-
tinence and incontinence may be deduced.

How far do the obstinate resemble, and how far do uney
differ from, the continent and incontinent?

What does Aristotle remark respecting those who do no*
abide by a bad resolve ?

Y 2324

QUESTIONS TO TEJ2

[book viii,

Is tliere any vicious defect on the subject of continence 3

State Aristotle's concluding remarks on tlie relation of
continence to temperance.

CHAP. X.

Prove tlie incompatibility of prudence and incontinence.

Prove that, owing to the difference between cleverness
and prudence, the former is compatible with incontinence.

Prove that the incontinent is not unjust.

Give Aristotle's illustration here of the incontinent cha-
racter.

Why are some species of incontinence more curable than
others 1

BOOK VIII.

CHAP. I.

How does the subject of friendship belong to ethics ?
Would its connection with ethics be considered as import-
ant by a Greek more perhaps than by any other person 1
Is friendship of great practical utility to the young 1
Illustrate this from Homer.

Is it implanted in us by nature ?

How far does it appear to be the bond of human society ?
How far does it supply the place of justice ?

Compare it with Christian love or charity.

Show from common opinion that it is honourable.

What proverbs have originated in supposing friendship to *
arise from similarity of character 1
What from the reverse ?

How far are both these theories reconcilable with the
truth ?

What physical theory is embodied in a passage of Euripides 1
What were the opinions of Heiaclitus and Empedo'cles 1
Why does Aristotle dismiss the consideration of these
questions 1

What questions does he propose to examine 1chai.iv.]	NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

325

CHAP. II.

How does lie propose to commence the inquiry 1
What are the objects of friendship ?

When Aristotle speaks of good as one object, does he mean
absolute or relative good?

What, then, are the three causes of friendship ?
Why cannot the term friendship be applied to affection
for inanimate things %

What do you call the feeling where there is no recipro-
city ?

Is any other condition necessary to friendship besides reci-
procity ?

Define the necessary conditions of friendship.

CHAP. III.

How many species of friendship are there ?

Are two of these not really so 1
Give your reasons for your statement.

Why are these two species of friendship easily dissolved ?
Amongst whom is the friendship dia to x?v<jlljiov usuall/
found %

Why is this the case 1
Amongst whom that fita to f)sv ?

Why are the young fickle in friendship h
, What does Horace say on this point h
To which species of friendship does that of hospitality be-
long ?

Between whom does true friendship subsist ?

On what is it based 1
Describe true friendship.

Show that it has in it a principle of permanence.

Does it include under it the two false kinds ?

Why is true friendship rarely found ?

Why can it not be rapidly formed t

CHAP. IY.

Show that the two imperfect species are copies of fcha
true.S26

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book viii.

Why is it more permanent than love ?

Prove that it cannot subsist except between the good,
whereas the other species can.

Why is it superior to calumny ?

Why are the false kinds called friendship at all ?

^Vre the two false kinds ever found combined 1

CHAP. Y.

What effect does absence produce on friendship ?

Why are the old and morose ill-suited to friendship ?

Show that intimacy is necessary in order to maintain
friendship.

What remarks already made does Aristotle here briefly
recapitulate 1

Distinguish between	and tyikla.

Prove that when the good love their friend, they love that
which is good to themselves.

CHAP. YI.

Can the old and ill-tempered feel evvoia ?

Why can you not entertain true friendship for a great
number, whereas you can entertain the two other kinds?

Which of the two false kinds most resembles the true ?

Why is this the case ?

Which friendship do the happy and prosperous need ?

How are men in power influenced in their choice of friends 1

What considerations will regulate the friendship between
a good man and a great man ?

CHAP. YII.

Show that in the friendships hitherto treated of, equality
between the parties has been considered.

Give instances of unequal friendships.

In these friendships, what will insure permanence ?

Between parties who are unequal, on which side will the
feeling be the stronger ?

What contrast does Aristotle here draw between justice
and friendship 2CHAP. X.]

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS,

327

Show tlat even between persons unequal, equality m
some sense must be produced.

Illustrate this by the case of the gods and of kings.

What question has arisen from the fact, that friendship
ceases in cases of great inequality 1

CHAP. YIIL

In our opinions of friendship, are we influenced by the
desire of honour ?

Is friendship generally thought to consist most in being
the object of friendship or in feeling the sentiment 1

How is this opinion supported by the case of "mothers ?

"Why is there stability in the friendship of the good, and
instability in that of the wicked 1

Show that friendship dia to xpwlj^ov is produced by tho
existence of contrary qualities.

CHAP. IX.

What is the relation which subsists between justice and
friendship 1

How is justice affected by the degree of friendship 1

What is the principal object of political or civil society ?

Show that all associations or communions are parts of
this.

Illustrate by examples what is meant by Koivuviai.

Show that corresponding friendships will accompany these
several Koivwviai.

CHAP. X.

How many kinds of political constitutions are there ?

How many corruptions of them ]

Name them all, and state which are the best and worst.

Give a definition of each, and state what is the end and
object of each.

Compare the theory here given with that given in the
Rhetoric, and account for the difference between them.

Explain how each of the forms passes into its corresponding
irruption.328

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book ix.

Give the parallels to those forms of government winch
exist in private life.

CHAP. XI.

Show at greater length the parallelism between the justice
and friendship which exists in each form of government and
that which exists in the corresponding cases in private life.

Can friendship and justice exist in a despotism 1

Can they exist at all, and if at all, how far, between a
master and a slave 1

Compare 4on these points despotisms and democracies.

CHAP. XII.

On what does the friendship which subsists between rela-
tions depend ?

Compare the grounds, motives, and degrees of filial and
parental affection.

Why is the affection of mothers stronger than that of

fathers 1

What is the origin of fraternal love ?

Why does it resemble that between companions 1

What is the law of variation in friendship between rela-
tions 1

Why does the friendship between relations include more
of the r]lv and ^priatfiov than any others?

What is the origin of conjugal love or friendship 1

On what is it based h

On what grounds does Aristotle consider children a bond
of union between married persons 1

CHAP. XIII.

In which kind of equal friendships do disputes mostly arise ?

For what reason ?

Why are friends diet to ayadbv not inclined to complain ?

Why are disputes unusual between friends dia to rjdv 1

What are the subdivisions of friendship c)ta to %or\(rifiov ?

Show how they differ from each other, especially as regards
tie question of disputes."5H A.P. I.]

NICOMACHEAN ETHTCS.

329

"What rule does Aristotle lay down to guide us in recog-
nizing an obligation 1

Is tlie standard of obligation to be the benefit conferred
011 the receiver, or the benevolence of the doer h

How is this question to be answered in the case of friend-
ships c)ia to ay ado v %

CHAP. XIY.

"Whence do complaints originate in unequal friendships ?
What is the view taken by the superior 1
What argument is used by the inferior h
How does Aristotle settle the question between the two
parties ?

How does he illustrate it by the practice of states ?

What rules does he lay down to regulate the intercourse
of unequal friends ?

What observations result from the above view of the
subject respecting the parental and filial relations ?

BOOK IX.

CHAP. I.

What is it which preserves and renders equal unequal
friendships 1

Give an illustration of this.

In the friendship of lovers, what complaints arise ?
On what is this friendship founded, and therefore why is
it liable to be dissolved, whereas the friendship founded on
moral qualities is permanent 1

What case of complaint is illustrated by the story of the
musician ?

Who then is to fix the rate of compensation ?

What is said to have been the practice of Protagoras 1
What does Aristotle say was the practice of the sophists,
and why was it so 1

What rule must be observed when no previous agreement
has been made 1QUESTIONS TO THE

[book ix

Why must the same rule be observed between teacher and
pupil ?

What rule must be observed in cases where the expecta-
tion of a return is avowed h

On what principles should the receiver estimate the value,
of what he has received 1

CHAP. II.

Give examples of other questions which arise in connection
with this subject.

Show in what consists the difficulty of settling them.

Does the rule " to be just before you are generous " admit
of exceptions ?

State what they are, and examine them.

Show (1) that different persons have different claims,
according to the relation in which they severally stand to
us : and (2) that duties and obligations differ in the same
way.

Give examples.

Does any difficulty arise from this circumstance 1
How should we meet the difficulty 1

CHAP. III.

On what grounds may friendships be dissolved 1
Under what circumstances might a man justly complain
of another for dissolving a friendship %

What is the common source of disagreement between
friends %

What may we do in the case of being deceived as to
character %

What is an absolute duty in such a case %

What is to be done if one party improves morally, and
the other continues unchanged 1

CHAP. IY.

Describe the relation which friendship bears to self love-
State the definitions which are commonly given of a
friend.CHAP. VII.]

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

331

Show that a good mail entertains all these characteristic
feelings towards himself.

What does Aristotle say, with reference to this subject, of
the intellectual principle in man h

How does he illustrate his view by reference to the case
of a god 1

Why is a good man fond of self-communion ?

Does Aristotle enter into the question of whether a man
can be a friend to himself 1

What objection may be urged to Aristotle's theory ?

How may it be answered 1

Why cannot a bad man sympathize with, or be a friend to
himself?

What is consequently our duty ?

CHAP. Y.

Show that good-will is neither friendship nor fondness.

Describe "raat it is, and illustrate by the case of pleasure
as connected with love.

Show that it is necessary to friendship.

What may it be called metaphorically 1

Into which species of friendship may it be improved 2

Why does it not become either of the other two 1

What is the origin in all cases of good-will 1

CHAP. YI.

Distinguish between unanimity and oneness of opinion.

To agreement on what subjects does the latter term
apply ?

In what cases is the former term used ?

Illustrate it from politics, and from the Phoeuissse.

Define unanimity, and prove your definition.

Amongst whom alone can it exist ?

Why is it never found among the wicked ?

CHAP. YIL

Compare the feelings of benefactors, and those whom the^
have benefited.332

QUESTIONS TO THE	[book ix.

Is the result such as might have been expected ?

How do most persons account for the existence of this
result 1

What would Epicharmus say of the account thus given ?
What does Aristotle consider the true account 1
Illust :ate his view by the cases of poets and artisans.
By hew many arguments does Aristotle prove his point ?
State them all in order.

CHAP. VIII.

What is the reason that self-love is blamed 1
Distinguish between reasonable self-love and selfishness.
What does Bishop Butler say respecting self-love 1
Show that facts contradict the view that self-love is always
wrong.

Quote the proverbs which Aristotle adduces in support
of his view.	*	^

Does the difference of opinion on this subject arise from
the term self-love being used in different senses ?

What is self-love understood to mean when it is blame-
able 1

Is this the sense in which the term is generally used 1
In what sense, however, is the term mor§ correctly used 1
Prove that this is the case.

In order to this, show that the intellectual principle
constitutes each man's self.

What advantage results to society from real self-love 1
Show that self-love is an absolute duty.

In cases of self-sacrifice, what motive acts upon our self-
love ?

How will this motive lead the good man to act ui der
certain circumstances 1

CHAP. IX.

What idea is commonly entertained respecting the need
of friends to a happy man ?

What absurdity is involved in this opinion 1
How can it be refuted by considering the nature of bene-
ficence 1chap, xi.]	NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

333

"What question arises out of this consideration as to the
comparative need of friends in prosperity and adversity ?

How does the nature of man contradict this commonly
received opinion %

Account for the existence of this opinion, and show how
far it is correct.

Show from the" definition and nature of happiness itself,
that the happy man needs friends.

Show that they are necessary on the hypothesis that
happiness implies pleasure.

Show that, if good, they improve virtue.

Prove the same fact from the pleasure which is derived
from the consciousness and perception of existence.

CHAP. X.

What precept respecting hospitality may perhaps be con
sidered as applicable to friendship ?

Does this precept certainly apply to the case of friend-
ships sta to yjpijaiijiov and dia to fjdv ?

Why so 1

Is any limit to be put to the number of virtuous friends
How is this illustrated by referring to political commu-
nities 1

What practical rule is to guide us in limiting the number 1
What other fact ought we to keep in mind ?

Why is it difficult to sympathize with many 1
What lesson do all the well-known examples of friendship
teach us on this point 1

By what name do we designate those who seem intimate
with everybody 1

In what way may a man be a friend to many, and yet
not deserve the above name ?

CHAP. XI.

Prove that friends are requisite both in prosperity and
adversity.

Why are they more necessary in adversity 1
Which kind are most wanted in prosperity, and which in
adversity 1334

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book x.

What is the reason tliat friendship diminishes the weight
of affliction ?

Does Aristotle pursue the investigation of this question to
any length 1

Is not the effect produced by the presence of a friend
on a man under calamity of a mixed kind 1

Under such circumstances, what is the conduct of the
manly character 1

"What is our duty in such circumstances ?

What are the advantages of friends when we are in
prosperity 1

How should we treat our friends when we are in adver-
sity, and how when we are in prosperity 1

What caution is requisite when we decline sympathy ?
What is the general conclusion to which Aristotle comes 1

CHAP. XII.

What is the chief bond of friendship ]

Is the case the same in love ?

How do men usually like to pass their time when
society of their friends %

Hence, what effect is produced on the friendship
wicked 1

What on that of the good 1
Quote a sentiment in support of your assertion.

in the
of the

BOOK X
CHAP. I.

Give Aristotle's reasons for entering upon a iliscussion of
the subject of pleasure.

What are the two opposite opinions usually entertained
on this subject h

What are the grounds and motives for them 1«ap. iv."1	NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

What does Aristotle consider tlie proper course to pursue i
How must the truth of theories be proved 1
To what difficulty is he liable who declaims against plea-
sure 1

CHAP. II.

What was the opinion of Eudoxus 1
What were the grounds of it 1
How does he argue in favour of it ?

State his four arguments in support of his views.

What was the reason that his views found favour 1
What objection is first made to his theory 1
Is there any similarity between this argument and that by
which Plato proves that pleasure is not the chief good 1

How may the objection to the first position of Eudoxus be
answered 1

CHAP. III.

How many objections are made to his second position ?—
What are they 1

Answer the first by a counter objection, and the second,
by drawing a distinction between pleasures.

What is the objection on the ground that pleasure is a
motion and a generation 1

How many kinds of motion are there, according to Aris-
totle 1

Answer the objection, by proving that pleasure is neithei
a motion nor a generation.

Prove that pleasure is not a supplying a deficiency.
Suppose base pleasures are brought forward, how would
you answer this 1

Support your argument by analogy.

What farther illustrations may be adduced in support
of the assertions, (1) that pleasure is not the chief good;
(2) that neither every eligible thing is pleasant, nor every
pleasure eligible 1

CHAP. IY.

Explai? what is meant by o\ov rc, by the example of
Sight.336

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book X.

Prove, then, that pleasure is a whole.

Show that for this reason it differs from a motion or a
generation.

Give an illustration derived from architecture.

Give another, taken from the different kinds of motions.

In order to get at Aristotle's theory of pleasure, describe
what he means by the best energy.

Prove that pleasure makes the energy perfect, and state
the way in which it does so.

Explain how it is that we cannot feel pleasure continuously.

Prove that the love of pleasure is the consequence of the
love of life.

Does Aristotle here enter upon the question whether we
choose life for the sake of pleasure, or pleasure for the sake
of life %

CHAP. V.

In proving that pleasures differ in species, show

(1.) That they perfect different productions and different
energies.

(2.) That each energy is increased by its proper plea-
sures.

(3.) That the pleasures resulting from one kind of
energy are a hinderance to other energies.

If we are engaged in two different energies at the same
time, what becomes of the least pleasant %

When are we inclined to engage in two occupations at
once

Compare the effect of pleasures which are foreign to any
energy with the pains proper to it; and give an example in
illustration.

How are we to estimate the qualities of pleasures ?

Which are most closely connected with the energies, the
pleasures which attend thereon, or the desires which originate
them 'i

Compare in point of purity the various pleasures of the
intellect and the senses.

Show that different men, and the same men under dif-
ferent circumstances, entertain different ideas of pleasure.

Describe then fully true pleasure, and show how Aristotle
investigates its nature.chap, VHI.] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS.

33*

CHAP. YI.

Why does Aristotle now return to the discussion of the
subject of happiness 1

What does he say that happiness is not ? and why so ?
"What division does he make of energies ?

To which of these classes does happiness belong 1
Are any other energies besides virtuous energies eligible for
their own sakes %

Are amusements of this number 1

How comes it that amusements are sometimes mistaken
for happiness 1

Prove that amusement does not constitute happiness.
Prove that in reality amusement is not eligible for its own
sake.

Why cannot bodily pleasure constitute happiness 1
CHAP. YIL

Show that happiness must be an energy of the best part
of our nature, whatever that be.

Prove that this energy is (1) contemplative, (2) continuous,
(3) self-sufficient, (4) eligible for its own sake, (5) consistent
with a state of perfect rest.

What energies are inconsistent with the idea of rest ?
Show that the qualities above mentioned are united in the
energy of the intellect, and in no other.

Why is the condition kv j3l<p reXela) added %

How far may men be considered capable of enjoying such
happiness 1

What, then, must be our earnest endeavour, if we would
possess this happiness h

Prove that this happiness is most proper to man.

CHAP, YIII.

How far is moral virtue productive of happiness %

Does moral virtue depend at all upon a man's physical
constitution ?

Show the superiority of intellectual to moral virtue aa
regards external goods.

z338

QUESTIONS TO THE

[book x,

How does tlie example of the gods support Aristotle's
view?

How does tlie case of tlie lower animals support it %

On what, then, will tlie degree of liappiness depend ?

But though contemplative happiness is independent of
external goods, are they necessary to man ?

To what extent are they necessary 1

What argument may be drawn from the virtues observable
in different classes of society ?

Compare Aristotle's statements with those of Solon and
Anaxagoras.

Although the opinions of the wise are evidences in
Aristotle's favour, still what is the grand test 1

Who is likely to be the greatest favourite of the godi ?

CHAP. iX.

What is the general object of this chapter ?

What is the proper end of all ethical investigations ?

In what do moral precepts fail, and how far are they
useful 1

What motive has the strongest influence over the masses 1

By how many means is it supposed that men are made
virtuous 1

How many of these are in our power 1

To what influence does Aristotle attribute natural gifts ?

Is any predisposition to virtue absolutely necessary, in
order to learn 1

How is that to be acquired ?

Show the importance of a national system of education.

Is this system to be confined to the young, or to be far
more comprehensive 1

Hence, what views have been held respecting the duties of
legislators in this respect ?

Why is the authority of law preferable to the paternal
authority 1

Has any state laid down laws to enforce education ?

If the state neglects this duty, what subject must private
individuals study, in order to educate successfully ?

What are the advantages of a system of private education
over a public one 1CHAP. IX.]

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

339

Does this also show the importance of the knowledge of
the principles of legislation %

Whence is this knowledge to be obtained 1

To whom would the student apply in vain ?

Why so 1

Show the importance of a practical acquaintance with the
subject.

State the errors into which the sophists have fallen.

Although collections of laws will not do everything, how
far are they useful 1

Why is it necessary for Aristotle to investigate the subject
of legislation ?

How does this lead him to undertake a treatise on
politics ?INDEX

to

ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS.

A.

Accidental injuries, 138.

Accidents, how far they affect happi-
ness, 25.

Actions, voluntary, involuntary, and
mixed, 54, and n.; done from
&vpbg and eTriOvfJiict, ib.

iEschylus, 48.

Affection resembles production, 248.

Agathon, 156.

Ambition, 48.

Anacharsis, 277.

Analysis, 6, n.

Anaxagoras, 162, 284.

Anaxandrides, 200.

Anger, 139 ; natural, 192»

Antigone, 135, n.

Appetite, 31.	*

Argives, mistake of the, 78.

Arguments from principles, and vice
versa, 6.

Aristocracy, 221.

Aristotle's system compared with
Plato's, 1 ,n. j most practical, 5,n.;
reconciled with others, 18 ; poli-
tics, 292; idea of the soul after
death, 23, n.; antagonistic to as-
ceticism, 255, n.

Arrogance, 48, 110.

Art, with what conversant, 156.

Asceticism, 255, n.

Authority, 170.

Aypioi, 112, 113.

I 'Ay%tvoia, 166.

j'AdsKciGToi, 52, n.

I A'ltjQnffiQ, 152, 170.

'AfcoAatna, 85.

'AicpoxoXog, its derivation, 106*
'AvaXyrjTOL, 73.

"Apevrcoi, 107.

'ApsTrj, 43, n.

"Apicrroi, 119.

'Arvxv^t ccfidprrjfia, and ddiKrjfJLa

differ, 139.

AvrapKSia, 15.

B.

Bashfulness, 49.

Benefactors love more than those
benefited, 247.

Blessed, how applicable to man, 26 ;
to the gods, 28.

Brasidas, 135, and n.

Brave men, how fearless, 73 ; de-
fined, ib.; their excesses and de-
fects, ib.

Brutality, 178, 189, et seq., 193.

Brutes not happy, 22; nor incon*
tinent, 85.

Butler, 39, n.; 283, n.

Bavavcrla, 93.

Bavico7ravovpyoQ, 111, n*

Biaios, 8, n.

BXa&u, 139.

B (iifjLoXoxot, 112, 113.342

INDEX.

c,

Callisthenes, 101, n.

Calypso, 52.

Candour, 168.

Capacities, 41.

Carcinus, 195.

Casuistic ethics, 236, n.

Categories, 11, n.

Catiline, 91, n.

Celts, their bravery, 73.

Chance not the cause of happiness,21.

Children, a bond of union, 227.

Cicero, 13, n.; 41, n.

Cleverness, 173 ; not identical with
prudence, ib.

Clownishness, 49,

Comedy, the old and new, 113.

Complaisance to excess, 49.

Compulsory actions, 56.

Contemplative life most divine, 280,
283.

Continence, 115 ; different from pa-
tience, 193 ; contingent matter,
154.

Correctness, how used, 166.

Courage, 46, 70; moral, 71; when
shown by the brave, ib.; not in
all kinds of death, ib.; five spuri-
ous kinds of, 74—78 ; conversant
with tcl <po€epa, 79.

Cretans, 29.

Cube, man compared to a, 25.

Cyclops, 288.

Cynics, 38, n.

XapievTeg, 7, n.

D.

Dead, whether affected by the condi-
tion of the living, 26.

Death the most fearful of things, 71.

Defect, 35.

Delian inscription, 20.

Deliberation, its subjects, 61, 62 ;
concerning means, 63 ; differs from
investigation, ib.; not concerning
ends, 64 ; differs from deliberate
preference, ib.; how limited, 162 ;
good, 165, 167.

Democracy, 221,222 ; favourable to

friendships, 224.

Demodocus, 197.

Desires twofold, 82 ; rules concern

ing the, 85.

Diagrams, 46, 62, 125,127, 129.
Diametrical conjunction, 129.
Dionysius, 234, n.

Due to be given to all, 237.

AuXol, 73.

AiaOeffig, 42, n.

Aiavoia, 152, n.

Aiicaiov, its etymology, 127.
ALKaL07rgayrifjLa and cSifccuwju-a, 137.
Avvafxig, 2, n.j 254, n.

Av<tko\oi, 107.

E.

Education, early, important, 35, 37 ;
to be enforced bylaw, 287 ; neces-
sary for adults, ib.; public and
private compared, 289.

Effeminacy, 194.

Empedocles, 184, 186, 205.

Ends, different, 1; of two kinds, 2,
and n.; threefold, 14.

Endymion, 283.

Energy, 2, n., 24, 25 ; and habit re-
ciprocal, 37.

Envy, 49.

Equality, how produced, 130 ; con-
ducive to permanence, 209^

Equity, 144 ; its relation to justice,
145 ; use of, 146 ; definition, ib.

Ethifcs, three treatises on, 1, n., a
political treatise, 3.

Eudoxus, 28, 262, ?c. '

Euripus, 245.

Euripides, 204; Alcmseon, 55and%.
Cresphontes, 58, n.; Bellerophon
or Alcmena, 140, n.; Philoctetes,
164.

Evenus, 201.

Exactness depends upon the subject-
matter, 4 ; how far to be required,
ib., 36 ; errors regarding, ib.

Excess and defect fatal to virtue, 35 ;
admitted by actions, 36.

Experience in politics useful, 290.INDEX.

343

External goods, 20, 24, 284.
Extremes compared, 50; with the

means, 51.

Eipwj/, 102, n., 109.

"Epyov of man, 15, 16 ; defined ac-
cording to energy and excellence,
16 ; ev (3iq> re\ei(p, 17.

E v(3ov\ia, 167.

Evvoia, 212, 243.

Evrpa7rt\oi, 112.

KHdvg and apEo-icog differ, 109.

F.

Facts to be known before reasons,
6, 17.

Favour, how measured, 230.

Fear, 71.

Fellow-feeling, 169.

Flattery, 49.

Friend defined^241; a second self,
242. m

Friends, how many are proper, 256
et seq.; when needed, 258 et seq.

Friendship, 49, 202, n.; natural,
203; supersedes justice, 204;
whether it is resemblance, ib,; its
connection with love, 205 ; three
kinds of, 206 et seq.; of the
young, old, &c., ib., 208; rare
and a work of time, 209 ; of lovers
not permanent, 210 ; of the good
alone safe, ib.; other distinctions
of, 211 et seq., 213 et seq.; be-
tween unequal persons, 215 ; how
made equal, 216; consists in
loving rather than being loved,
217; its conditions, ib.; did. to
XpriGifiov, 218 ; political or social,
219 et seq.; under forms of go-
vernment, 223 et seq.; of com-
panions, relations, &c., 224 et
seq.; of parents, brothers, 225 ;
of children, of men towards the
gods, of husband and wife, 226 ;
of utility subject to disputes, 227
etseq.; dia to xprjffinov twofold,
legal, 228; moral, 229; prefe-
rence its measure, 230; complaints
In unequal friendship, ib

also in states, 231 ; preservatives
of, 233 et seq., when to be dis-
solved, 238 et seq.; moral advan-
tage of, 260.

G.

Genus, how ascertained, 152.

Glaucus, 140.

" Good," the, that at which all things
aim, 1,5,14; of man, its end, uti-
lity, and bearing on the treatise on
Ethics, 3; a universal, not accord-
ing to one idea, 9 ; how predicated,
10; of two classes, 12; analogically
considered, ib.; the most final, 14;
general sketch or outline of the, 17;
three classes of, and opinions upon
each, 18, 19 ; an active virtue, 19;
essentially pleasant, ib.; external,
contributes to happiness, 20 ; the,
are friends absolutely, 209 ; to
themselves, 240; how affected,
241 ; ways of becoming, 287;
good-will, 243, 244.

Government, civil, its three forms,
and their deflections, 220; of a
family and a state bear analogy,
222.

Graces, temples of the, 129 and n.

FXicr%pot, 91.

Vvwjjltj, 168.

Tvwpifia, either a7r\w£ or rjfiTv, 6.

H.

Habit, 33, n., 37, 41; less volun-
^ tary than action, 70.

Happiness the chief good, 5, 275;
different views of, ib., 7 ; its prse-
cognita, or requisites, 15—21,
276; how acquired, 21; a divine
gift, ib. s not a dvvajjLie, nor of r<l
kiraivETCL, ib.; contemplative, 278;
most near to a divine life, 280;
^-intellectual superior to moral, 281.
Happy, the man, requires friends,

252 ; of what kind, 253.
Heraclitus, 185.344

INDEX.

Hermgeum, 76 and n.	»

Heeiod, 7, 204., 234.

Homer, 52, 53, 64, 74, 75, 77, 82,
93, 96, 101, 140, 177, 192, 203,
204, 222, 237, 288.

Homer's "Margites," 160.

I.

Ideal good not useful, 13.

Ideas of Plato, 9 n.; rejected by
Aristotle, 10, 13.

Ignorantly, and through ignorance,
how they differ, 57.

Ignorance of two kinds, 57 ; when
pardonable, 58.

Illiberality, 90; incurable, 91; its
kinds, ib.

Impudence, 49.

Incontinence, how it may exist with
knowledge, 182 et seq.; with what
subjects conversant, 186 et seq.;
classed with intemperance, 187;
of anger, 191; differs from effemi-
nacy, 194; its divisions, 195;
differs from intemperance, 196 et
seq.; from obstinacy, 198 et seq. ;
incompatible with prudence, 200;
differs from vice, ib.; of the cho-
leric, 201.

Indignation, 49.

Induction, 155, n.

Injure, a man cannot himself, 140,
146, et seq.

Injury, whether worse to do or re-
ceive, 148; its conditions, 141
and ra., et seq.

Injustice, 116 et seq., 132; parti-
cular, 120.

Intellect, 1,52 et seq.

Intelligence, 167 ; its object, 168.

Intemperance more voluntary than
cowardice, 84; its effects, 158,
194.

Intimacy, most desirable for friends,
260.

Intuition, 159, 169, n.; its kinds,
170.

Involuntary actions, 54; how resem-
bling voluntary, 55 ; how received,

ib ra dif ayvoiav, 56 ; non-vo-
luntary, 57 ; tested by repentance,
ib.

Irascibility, its divisions, 106.

J.

Just acts and men, 40; mistake
thereupon, 41.

Justice, 49, n.y 116, and»., three
requisites of, 117 ; and injustice,
how meant, ib.; connection of
with law, 118 ; universal, the most
excellent of virtues, 119; differs
from perfect virtue, 120; from
other virtues, 132 ; whether easy,
144; particular, 120 et seq.; dis-
tributive, 122, 123, et seq.; cor-
rective, 123, 126 ; in transactions,
125 et seq.; political? 133 and »./
economical, 135^ natural and
legal, 135 et seq.; before gene-
rosity, 236.

Juvenal, 118, n.

K.

Kings cannot be prodigals, 89.
KLJJ^lksq, 91.

kivtjgiq, 268, n.

K,o?77rt£, 269, n.
KviMvo7rpiorr}g, 91.

L.

Lacedaemonians, 29, 71, 101, 178fj
288 ; their dress, 111.

Law, how connected with justice,
118 ; its object, 119.

Laws, collections of, useful, 291.

Legislators, 34 ; how to be taught,
290.

Lesbian buildings, 146.

Liberality, 47, 86 ; its purpose, mo-
tive, and manner, 87 ; of receiv-
ing, of giving, 88 ; mostly among
those who inherit wealth, ib.; dif-
ferent from prodigality, 89.INDEX.

Ml

Lives not conducive to happiness,

which, 7, 8.

Loss and gain, 127.

Love, its objects, 205 ; of benefac-
tors strongest, 246.

Aeirovpyia, 230, n.

Aoy ov e%aj/ used ambiguously, 31, n.
A(jJTradvTrjs, 92.

M.

Magnanimity, 47, 97, and n.; con-
versant with honour and goodness,
98 ; the ornament of virtues, 99 ;
variously considered, ib., 102.

Magnificence, 47, 93; public and
private, 94—96.

Malevolence, 49.

Man, the origin of his own actions,
153.

Mean in all things, and this twofold,
43 ; difficult,., 45 ; not found in
every action or passion, ib.; habits
enumerated, 46 ; compared with
the .extremes, 50 ; rules for dis-
covering, 52 ; difficulty of, ib.

Meanness, 93, 96.

Measure, common, 130 ; is xpsia or
money, ib.

Meekness, its excess and dsfect, 105.

Mentiens fallacia, 181.

Mercenaries not brave, 79»

Milesians, 197.

Modesty, 97.

Monarchy, 221.

Money, 130; a pledge, 131,

Money-getting, 8.

Multitude, led by fear, 286.

Mysteries, 58.

Matcapioe, 28, n.

Macpoipvxog, 97, 102.

Mitcral 7Tp&Zeig, 54.

N.

Necessity, two kinds of, 155, n
Neoptolemus, 181, 199.
Nicomachus, 1, n.

Niobe, 188.

Novices, unfit students of ethics,, 5.

Numbers, the Pythagorean and
PMonic ideas concerning, 10,
and n.

No vg, 151, 152, 159.

O.

Obstinacy, 198; its divisions, ib,
et seq.

Offences, their three kinds, 137 ; how
determined, 138.

Oligarchy, 221.

Olympic games, 19.

'Ojttovota, 245.

"Ope%iQ, 152.

P.

Passions, 41.

Pericles, 157.

Persian government, 222.

Phalaris, 190.

Philoctetes, 195.

Philoxenus, 81.

Pittacus, 245, n.

Plato, 1, n.; his theory of ideas, 6,
and n,s his objections to Eudoxus,
263 ; Philebus, 261, n. / arguments
on pleasure refuted, 265, n.

Pleasant things, 20; not compul-
sory, 56.

Pleasantness, 48.

Pleasure and pain the test of habits,,
37; pleasureleads most men astray,
65; whydiscussod, 261; erroneous
ideas of, ib.; opinions concerning,
262 et seq.; defined, 268 ; per-
fects every energy, ib. et seq.; and
aiaOrjviQ, diavoia, and $reu)piat
270 ; whether loved for the love of
life, or vice versa, 271; true, 275.

Pleasures, how divided, 80; of sight,
hearing, ib.; smell, taste, touch,
81, 82; two kinds of, 187 ; their
excess, 188 ; differ in species, 272
et seq. / opposite are like pains,
273 ; differ in goodness, ib.; in
purity, 274 ; among men and ani-
mals, ib.546

INDEX.

Pontus, savages of, 190.

Preference, deliberate, how distin-
guished from " the voluntary,"
59; notETriQvfjLLajBrviJLbQj^ovXrjcnQ,
or do%a, 60; defined, 61, 64;
constitutes an injury, 139.

Priam, 22, 26, 177.

Principles, how perceived, 17.

Prodigality, 86, 90.

Propriety, 93.

Protagoras, 234.

Proverbs, 52, 119, 136, 181.

Prudence, 156; different from know-
ledge, 157 ; from art, 15"8; its
distinctions, 163, n.; not science,
165 ; its utility, 171 ; inseparable
from moral virtue, 175.

Uavucd, 75, n.

HapcKre'icravTa Qevyeiv, 98, n.

Uepicnrra^O, n.

TLoiriGiQ and 7rpa%igt 155.

IlopvotoGKoi, 192.

<p£idu)\oi, 91.

$ikri<TiG and (j>iXia, 212.

LKOQy 164.

^rj^iafxa, 135, n.

R.

Reasoning of two kinds, 6.

Reason, not man, the ruler, 134 ;
right, considered, 150 ; joined with
all virtues, ib.; difficult to dis-
cover, ib., n.

Receiver, duty of the, 229.

Redemption, price of, 135, n.

Relative duties, 236.

Repentance the test of an involuntary
action, 57.

Retaliation, 128 ; tear'avaXoylav, ib.

Return to be made according to abi-
lity, 231.

Rhadamanthian rule, 128.

Ribaldry, 48.

*PaGduxjig, 269, n.

S.

Satyrus, 188.
Science, 155.

Scythians punished by "Venus, 195, nt

Self-love, 242, 248, n.„ its kinds,
249 et seq.

Shame, adapted to youth, not the
proof of a good man, 114.

Simonides, 89.

Social life, the knowledge of, 161;
differs from prudence, 163.

Socrates, 111, 161, n., 175, 179,
186, 75, n.

Solon, 22, 284.

Sophists, 111, n., 290.

Sophocles, 181, 199.

Soul, its condition after death, 23, n. ;
its divisions, 29, 30, 32, n.; its
virtues, ibXoyacrj and aXoyog,
30 ; its qualities, how divided, 151.

Speusippus, 11.

Stature essential to beauty, 97, n.

Stoics, 8, n.

Student, of what kind fit for et<hi<?4,
4, 5, 6.

Suicide an act of cowardice, 74.

Synthesis, 6, n.

S vvaWayfiara, 123.

'Stojcppocrvvrjf 104, n.

T.

Tact, 112/

Teaching, two methods of, 8, n.

Temperance, 46. 80; how different
from courage, 83; described, ib, •
questions on, 179 et seq.

Thales, 162.

Theocritus, 77.

Theodectes, 195.

Theognis, 254, 285.

Theory of virtue not sufficient, 285.,

Thermopylae, treatment of the Persian
soldiers at, 75, n.

Timocracy, 221, 222.

Tragedies, 27.

Trains worn by the Asiatics, 95, n.

Transactions, twofold, 123.

Truth, its mean, excess, and defect,
48, 109, 152.

Tyranny, 221; adverse to friendships
224, /3loq t&XeioQt 17, n.f 22.

TLfirj, 98, n.; distinguished from rh
KaXov, 103, n.INDEX.

34?

toKiffraiy 92.

To ri itv slvai, 45, n.
Tpirjpdpxoh 93, n.
0£a>pol, 93, n.
Qpaatig, 73.

U.

Ulysses, 199.

Unanimity, 244 ; political friendship,
245.

Unhappiness produced by fjLUjrjra
and <pav\af 26.

y.

Vain man, who, 97, 103.

Value, how fixed, 234.

Vicious, over fond of society, 242.

Virtue, reasons for considering, 29;
human, ib.; of the soul, ib.;
various divisions of, 30 et seq.;
how produced and increased, 33;
moral virtue not innate, ib.; and
vice arise f;om the same cause,
34; how destroyed and how pre-
served, 35 ; conversant with plea-
sure and pain, 37, 38 ; not cnra-
9etaf 38; acquired by virtuous

actions, 39; but not so in arts,
40; its genus, 41; and vice not
iraOri nor dwdfieiQ, but 42
(see n. ib.); a mean state, 43 ; its
mean relative, 44 ; defined, 45 ; an
aicporrjg, 45 ; three nameless so-
cial virtues, and others, 48; how
opposed to vices, 50; conversant
with what, 54 ; and vice voluntary,
66, and n.; objections to this state-
ment, 67—70; the nameless one
conversant with the desire of
honour, 103 ; social, 107 ; its mean
is (pikia avev rov arepyeiv, 108;
proper, 174; natural, ib.; heroic,
177.

Virtues of the soul, how divided,
151; the five intellectual, 154.

Volition, whether it has the real or
the apparent good for its object,
65.

"Voluntary and involuntary, 54, 58,
129.

W.

Wisdom, 160, and n.; its kinds, ib.
how compounded, ib.; objections
to its utility considered, 171 et seq
Wit, 48 5 its kinds, 112, 113.

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