6 
 
Cornell University Library 
 B 430.A5W44 1892 
 
 The Nicomachean ethics of Aristotle / 
 
 3 1924 012 537 001 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924012537001 
 
i/(sH^^¥^ 
 
 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 
 
 OF 
 
 AEISTOTLE 
 
THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 
 
 OF 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 n I 
 
 TKANSLATED 
 
 WITH AN ANALYSIS AND CRITICAL NOTES 
 
 BT 
 
 J. E. C. WELLDON, M.A. 
 
 HEAD UASTEB OF HABBOW SCHOOL. 
 
 Honiron : 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YOEK. 
 
 1892 
 
 [The Right of Translation is reserved.] 
 
 URIS LIBRARY 
 
 JUL 06 W 
 
^,,^\e s)asj^ 
 
 ffiamStiljae: 
 
 PEINTBD BY C. J. OLAT, M.A. & SONS, 
 AT TBB UNIVEBBITT PKEBS. 
 
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PREFACE. 
 
 AFTER an interval of four years it is per- 
 -OL mitted me to follow up my translations 
 of the Politics and Rhetoric of Aristotle with a 
 translation of his Nicomachean Ethics. I have 
 had a good deal of work to do in those four 
 years at Harrow and elsewhere, and it is, I fear, 
 only too likely that the translation will exhibit 
 some traces of the broken manner in which it 
 has been written. But it has been a help to 
 me in teaching my pupils the art of translation 
 to be myself a translator, and the pleasure of 
 entering into the mind of Aristotle, as none but 
 a tra 
 
^p^le s)as^ 
 
 FEINTED BY 0. J. CLAT, M.A. & SONS, 
 AT THE DNIVEBBITT PEESS. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 AFTER an interval of four years it is per- 
 -t\- mitted. me to follow up my translations 
 of the Politics and Rhetoric of Aristotle with a 
 translation of his Nicomachean Ethics. I have 
 had. a good deal of work to do in those four 
 years at Harrow and. elsewhere, and it is, I fear, 
 only too likely that the translation will exhibit 
 some traces of the broken manner in which it 
 has been written. But it has been a help to 
 me in teaching my pupils the art of translation 
 to be myself a translator, and the pleasure of 
 entering into the mind of Aristotle, as none but 
 a translator of his writings can, is a sufficient 
 reward for the pains which it is necessary to 
 take in translating them. 
 
 It hardly falls within the province of a 
 translator to give his reasons for the view which 
 he takes of particular passages. But if I feel 
 some confidence that in adopting my own viev/ 
 T have not ignored the views of others who 
 ".ave gone before me, it is in part at least 
 w. N. E. h 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 because I have had the good fortune of sub- 
 mitting my proof-sheets as they were passing 
 through the press to the careful and thoughtful 
 criticism of my friend Mr A. H. Cruickshank, 
 one of my colleagues at Harrow, and Fellow of 
 New College, Oxford, to whom I owe, and 
 desire to express, my sincere thanks. In trans- 
 lating the Nicomachean Ethics I have, I think, 
 made use of all the recent editions and commen- 
 taries (they are not very numerous), though 
 Mr Bywater's latest contributions to the study 
 of Aristotle were not within my reach during 
 the earlier portion of my work. It is perhaps 
 right to say that I refrained from consulting 
 such translations as had already been published 
 in England until I had finished my own in- 
 dependently; but in revising it I have not 
 scrupled to refer to them and occasionally to 
 borrow a hint from them. Thus to Mr Williams 
 and to Mr Peters, different as their translations 
 are, I am alike indebted. Perhaps the object 
 which I have chiefly kept in view has been to 
 make each sentence of my translation as clear 
 as possible ; the rendering may be wrong or 
 right in various passages, but at least I hope 
 it is intelligible. It may be well to add that 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 I have deliberately rejected the principle of 
 trying to translate the same Greek word by 
 the same word in English, and that, where 
 circumstances seemed to call for it, I have 
 sometimes used two English words to represent 
 one word of the Greek. But when all is said, 
 the difficulty of translating Aristotle remains 
 great ; nobody knows it so well as he who has 
 felt it by actual trial ; but I cherish the hope 
 that this translation may be the means of 
 bringing the master-treatise upon Ethics into 
 the hands of some one who has not known 
 or appreciated it before. 
 
 J. E. C. WELLDON. 
 
 Habkow School, 
 October 14, 1892. 
 
 N.B. The text from which this translation is made is 
 that of Bekker's Octavo Edition, published in 1881. The 
 marginal references are to the pages of the translation, the 
 references in the footnotes to passages of the Nicomachean 
 Ethics are to the pages and lines of Bekker's text. In 
 referring to other works of Aristotle than the NicoTnachean 
 Ethics I have quoted the pages and lines of the Berlin 
 Edition. 
 
 Where the words of the translation are printed in 
 italics, they have generally been inserted for the sake of 
 elucidating the sense. 
 
 &2 
 
ANALYSIS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BvEEr art, every science, every action or purpose, aims at some 
 good. 
 
 The good {rayaOov) is that at which all things aim. 
 
 The ends are either activities {ivipycmi) or results {ipya) 
 beyond the activities. Where the result is an end beyond the 
 activity, the result is superior to the activity. 
 
 As there are various actions, arts and sciences, the ends are 
 also various. The ends of the architectonic arts or sciences are 
 more desirable than those of the subordinate arts and sciences. 
 
 The end which we wish for its own sake, and for the sake of 
 which we wish everything else, is the good, or the supreme good 
 
 (to SpiOTOv). 
 
 The knowledge of the supreme good is of great importance 
 as regulating the aim or object of human life. 
 
 The architectonic science or faculty is the political. Its end 
 comprehends the ends of all other sciences and is therefore the 
 true good of mankind. 
 
 Ethids becomes then a department of Politics. It is not an 
 exact science. Ethical truth can be ascertained only roughly 
 and generally; it must always admit of dispute. 
 
 The young, having no experience of life, are ill judges of 
 ethical reasonings, which are conclusions from the premisses of 
 fact. 
 
X ANALYSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The supreme good is admitted on all hands to be happiness 
 (tuSat/ioi/i'a). But happiness is differently conceived. By some 
 it is defined as a visible and palpable good, e.g. pleasure, wealth 
 or honour; by others as an absolute or abstract good, which is 
 the cause of goodness in all other goods. 
 
 All reasoning is either deductive or inductive. Ethical 
 reasoning starts from ascertained and known facts. But facts 
 may be known either absolutely or relatively to the person.s 
 who know them. It is facts relatively known which form 
 the basis of Ethics. 
 
 Hence the importance of a good moral training, as supplying 
 the first principles of ethical reasoning. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The lives of men may be described as (1) sensual (2) political 
 (3) speculative. 
 
 The sensual life is the choice of slavish or brutish men. 
 
 The political life aims at honour. But honour is not identi- 
 fiable with happiness, as it depends more upon the people who 
 pay it than upon the person to whom it is paid, and is therefore 
 not something proper to the person himself. 
 
 Nor again are virtue {aperij) and! happiness (evbaifwvla) identi- 
 cal, as virtue is consistent with a life of torpor or misfortune. 
 
 The speculative life will be investigated hereafter. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Objections to the Platonic theory of the universal good. 
 
 (1) Plato did not recognise ideas of things of which priority 
 and posteriority are predicable. But good is predicated of rela- 
 tion as well as of essence, and the relative is necessarily posterior 
 to the essential. 
 
 (2) Good is predicated in all the categories. But if so it 
 cannot be a common universal idea. 
 
ANALYSIS. X^ 
 
 (3) There is no single science of all good things, as there 
 would be if the idea of good were single. 
 
 (4) Good would not become more good by being eternal, if 
 it were a universal idea. 
 
 The Pythagorean doctrine that unity is a good is more 
 reasonable than the Platonic doctrine that the good is a unity. 
 
 It has been suggested that the Platonic theory does not apply 
 to all goods and that there are two kinds of goods, viz. (1) abso- 
 lute (2) secondary. 
 
 But what are absolute goods 1 
 
 If nothing is an absolute good except the idea (iSe'a), the idea 
 will comprise no particulars. If the particulars are absolute 
 goods, the conception of the good will be the same in them all, 
 But it is not the same, e.g. in honour, wisdom, and pleasure. 
 Good then is not a common term falling under one idea. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The practicable good is different in different actions or arts. 
 e.g. in medicine, strategy, etc. 
 
 But in each it is that for the sake of which all else is done. 
 
 If then there is a certain end of all action, it will be this 
 which is the practicable good ; or if there are several such ends, 
 it will be these. 
 
 Happiness answers to this description of the supreme good; 
 for whereas other goods are desired partly for their own sakes 
 and partly as means to happiness, happiness is always desired 
 for its own sake. 
 
 Also the final good may be assumed to be self-sufficient, and 
 happiness is pre-eminently self-sufficient. 
 
 Also happiness is distinct from other good things, as being 
 the end or object of them. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The nature of happiness depends on the proper function of 
 Man. As every part of Man, e.g. his eye, his hand, his foot, has 
 its function, so has Man himself. 
 
 What is his function ? 
 
XU ANALYSIS. 
 
 Not the life of nutrition and increase (i) Spctttik^ koI av^rjriKr} 
 iwij), for that is common to man with the plants; nor the life of 
 sensation (ij aiV^iyriKi;), for that is common to man with the 
 lower animals. It is the practical life of the rational part of 
 man's being (irpaKTiKij ns tov Xayov.ex""^"^)- 
 
 The function of man defined as an activity of soul in accord- 
 ance with reason or not independently of reason {fjnxv^ ivipyeia 
 Kara \6yov rj ovK avev \6yov). 
 
 But the functions of a person of a certain kind, and of a 
 person who is good of his kind, e.g. of a harpist and a good 
 harpist, are the same. 
 
 The function of the good man then will be an activity of soul 
 in accordance with virtue, or if there are several virtues, in 
 accordance with the best and most complete virtue, that activity 
 being exhibited not in a chance period of time but in a complete 
 
 life [iv /Si'ij) reXeioi). 
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 The degree of accuracy attainable in Ethics is not greater 
 than is proper to the subject. We must be content vrith such 
 accuracy as is attainable. 
 
 Ethical science proceeds from first principles, and these prin- 
 ciples are discovered sometimes by induction, sometimes by 
 perception, sometimes by habituation and so on. 
 
 CHAPTER, VIII. 
 
 Goods are divisible into three classes viz. (1) External goods 
 (2) Goods of the soul, (3) Goods of the body. ' 
 
 Of these the goods of the soul are goods in the strictest 
 sense. 
 
 The end of human life then will be some good of the soul 
 
 Accordingly the happy man will live well and do well as 
 happiness is a kind of living and doing well {d^mla tJ koI 
 €v7rpa^ia). 
 
ANALYSIS. xm 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 This definition of happiness embraces and includes the con- 
 ceptions of happiness as prudence or wisdom whether (a) absolute 
 or (6) associated with pleasure or external prosperity. For if 
 happiness is activity in accordance with virtue, it implies virtue. 
 
 KB. Happiness must be an activity rather than a moral 
 state (eJis), as a moral state may exist and yet may be unpro- 
 ductive, but activity implies action. 
 
 Activity in accordance with virtue implies pleasure, as if a 
 person is good, he finds pleasure in noble actions. 
 
 Lastly, activity in accordance with virtue implies nobleness. 
 
 Happiness then is the best and pleasantest and noblest thing 
 in the world. But it requires the addition of external goods, as 
 nobleness of action is impossible without external means. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It is questioned whether happiness can be learnt or acquired, 
 or is a gift of Heaven. 
 
 Happiness, as being the best of human things, may be reason- 
 ably supposed to be a divine gift ; for how can the best of things 
 be left to chance ? 
 
 But even if it can be acquired by learning or discipline, still 
 in its nature it is divine. 
 
 It is also of wide extent, as being capable of realization in all 
 persons, except such as are' morally deformed. 
 
 The definition of happiness agrees with the end of political 
 science as already defined ; for the end of political science is to 
 produce a character of goodness in the citizens. 
 
 The lower animals are incapable of happiness, as being in- 
 capable of virtuous activity. 
 
 Children are incapable of happiness, except prospectively, 
 for happiness requires complete virtue and a complete life. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Can a man be called happy so long as he is alive 1 
 The Solonian dictum that it is necessary to look to the end 
 would seem to forbid the ascription of happiness to any one 
 
XIV ANALYSIS. 
 
 until after he is dead. But if happiness is a species of activity, 
 how can a person be happy not in his life time, but after his 
 death ? Nor is it right to conceive a person to be happy after 
 his death, as being at last exempt from the changes and chances 
 of Mfe; for it may reasonably be believed that the dead are 
 affected more or less by such good or evil as occurs to their 
 children and descendants. 
 
 To call a person happy after his death is to predicate happi- 
 ness of him, not when the happiness exists, but when it has 
 existed and is past. 
 
 Again, to make happiness dependent upon the fortune of the 
 moment is to destroy its stability and completeness. But no 
 human function is so constant or stable as activity in accordance 
 with virtue. 
 
 The conclusion is that happiness possesses the element of 
 stability. It is not affected by petty incidents of good or ill 
 fortune, nor is it destroyed, although it may be impeded, by 
 serious pains and calamities. 
 
 Happiness being determined by virtuous activity the happy 
 man can never become miserable, as he will never commit mean 
 actions. His happiness will be seldom disturbed, but if disturbed, 
 as e.g. by heavy misfortune, will be only slowly restored. 
 
 The happy man then is one whose activity accords with 
 perfect virtue, and who is adequately furnished with external 
 goods, not for a casual period of time, but for a complete life- 
 time. 
 
 It is probable that a person after death is affected, but not 
 affected to any great extent, by the fortunes of his descendants 
 or friends, i.e. they do not create or destroy his happiness. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Is happmess properly an object of praise or an object of 
 honour ? 
 
 Praise implies a certain character and a certain relation to 
 somebody or something else in the object of praise. Hence 
 praise is inapplicable to the Gods, as they stand above com- 
 parison. 
 
 It follows that praise is inapplicable to the highest goods. 
 
ANALYSIS. XV 
 
 Happiness then, as being the supreme good, is an object, not 
 of praise, but of something higher than praise, yiz. honour. 
 
 Prom another point of view happiness, as being a first prin- 
 ciple {apx^f), is equally an object of honour. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Happiness being an activity of soul in accordance with com- 
 plete or perfect virtue, the consideration of virtue aflfords the 
 best insight into happiness. 
 
 Human excellence or virtue is not that of the body but that 
 of the soul. 
 
 Now the soul has two parts, one irrational (aXoyov) the other 
 rational (XoyoK e^ov). The rational part is also capable of division 
 into 
 
 (1) the "vegetative part which is common to man with all 
 living things, and is removed from the sphere of virtue 
 
 (2) the emotional or concupiscent part, which is irrational, 
 and yet may be said to partake of reason, not as possessing or 
 understanding reason, but as being capable of obedience to 
 reason. 
 
 There are therefore in man 
 
 (1) Intellectual virtues (Siai/oijTjKoi dperaC) Le. virtues of 
 the rational part of his soul, e.g. wisdom and prudence, 
 
 (2) Moral virtues (ijSucal apercu) i.e. virtues of the irra- 
 tional part of his .soul when acting in obedience to reason, e.g. 
 liberality and temperance. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Virtue or excellence (dpenj) then is twofold, viz. 
 
 (1) Intellectual 
 
 (2) Moral 
 
 Intellectual virtue is originated and fostered mainly by teaching ; 
 it therefore demands time and experience. 
 
XVI ANALYSIS. 
 
 Moral virtue is created by habit. It follows that moral 
 virtue is not implanted by nature, as a law of nature cannot be 
 altered by habituation. 
 
 Nature affords the capacity for virtue, and that capacity is 
 perfected by habit. 
 
 There is a marked difference between the natural powers or 
 faculties {Swafj-eis) of man and his virtues. 
 
 The faculties are acquired before the corresponding activities 
 are displayed. Thus the faculty of sight or hearing precedes its 
 active exercise. But the virtues are acquired by their exercise ; 
 justice by just action, temperance by temperate action, and so on. 
 
 Legislation aims at making the citizens good by discipline of 
 the habits. 
 
 It is true of virtue as of art that the causes and means by 
 which it is produced, and by which it is destroyed, are the same. 
 A person becomes a good or bad musician by practising music 
 well or badly. Similarly he becomes brave or cowardly by 
 acting rightly or wrongly in the face of danger. 
 
 In a word, moral states are the results of activities cor- 
 responding to the moral states themselves. Hence the serious 
 importance of the training of the habits from early days. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The study of Ethics is not speculative only but practical. 
 Our object is not merely to know the naturQ of virtue, but to 
 become ourselves virtuous. 
 
 It is necessary therefore to consider the principle of right 
 action. But reasoning upon practical matters cannot be scientifi- 
 cally exact ; it can only be tentative or approximate. 
 
 Excess and deficiency are alike fatal in conduct. Excess or 
 deficiency of gymnastic exercise is fatal to strength, excess or 
 deficiency of, meat and drink to health. Similarly in respect of 
 courage, temperance, and the other virtues, excess or deficiency 
 is destructive, the mean or intermediate state is preservative, of 
 the virtues. 
 
 As the causes and agencies which produce, increase, and 
 destroy the moral states are the same, so is the sphere of their 
 activity the same also. Strength e.g. is produced by taking food 
 
ANAIiYSIS. XVII 
 
 and undergoing toil ; but nobody can take so much food or 
 undergo so much toil as the strong man. The same is true of 
 courage or temperance. The pleasure or pain which follows 
 upon actions is the test of a person's moral state. 
 
 The essential quality of courage lies in facing dangers with 
 pleasure, or of temperance in abstaining from physical gratifica- 
 tions with pleasure. Hence the importance of such a training as 
 produces pleasure and pain in presence of the right objects. 
 This is the true education. 
 
 The connexion of virtue with pleasures and pains follows 
 
 (1) because the virtues are concerned with actions and 
 emotions, and every action or emotion is attended by pleasure 
 and pain 
 
 (2) because the employment of pains as means of punish- 
 ment implies the pleasantness of the condition which punish- 
 ments are intended to remedy. 
 
 Certain philosophers, e.g. the Cynics, seeing the influence of 
 pleasures and pains upon conduct, have been led to define the 
 virtues as apathetic states. 
 
 Moral virtue then tends to produce the best action in respect 
 of pleasures and pains. 
 
 Again, there are three natural objects of desire, viz. the 
 noble, the expedient, and the pleasant, and three natural objects 
 of avoidance, viz. the shameful, the injurious, and the painful 
 It follows that the good man vrill take a right line in respect of 
 all these, but especially of pleasure, as pleasure is an element of 
 nobleness and expediency. 
 
 Also pleasure is a sentiment fostered in men from early 
 childhood. Pleasure and pain too are in a greater or less degree 
 the standards of human action. 
 
 The study of Ethics then is throughout concerned vrith plea- 
 sures and pains, as right or wrong pleasures and pains have a 
 mat-erial influence upon actions. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 When it is said that a person becomes just by just aqtion, or 
 temperate by temperate action, justice and temperance as quali- 
 ties imply not only the corresponding actions but the correspond- 
 ing knowledge or motive. 
 
XVm ANALYSIS. 
 
 In order to just or temperate actions it is necessary- 
 
 (1) that a person should know what he is doing 
 
 (2) that he should deliberately choose to do it 
 
 (3) that he should choose to do it for its own sake 
 
 (4) that it should be an instance or evidence of a fixed 
 and immutable moral state. 
 
 Hence virtue, as necessitating these conditions, differs from 
 art, which requires none of these conditions or only the condition 
 of knowledge. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The nature op Viktue. 
 
 The qualities of the soul are three (viz.) 
 
 (1) emotions {rrddri) 
 
 (2) faculties (Swa/icn) 
 
 (3) moral states (e^ets). 
 
 Virtue then must be one of these three. 
 
 But the virtues like the vices are not emotions, for 
 
 (1) praise and blame attach to virtues or vices but not to 
 emotions 
 
 (2) the virtues imply, but the emotions do not imply, 
 deliberate purpose 
 
 (3) a person is said to be moved {Kive'ia-dai) in respect of 
 his emotions, but to have a certain disposition (SiaKflo-fiai was) 
 in respect of his virtues or vices. 
 
 Nor again are the virtues faculties, for 
 
 (1) it is not an abstract capacity for emotion which is the 
 subject of praise or censure 
 
 (2) the faculties are gifts of nature, the virtues are not. 
 
 If then the virtues are neither emotions nor faculties, they 
 must be moral states. 
 
ANALYSIS. XIX 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 It is not enough to show that virtue is a moral state, it is 
 necessary to describe the character of that moral state. 
 
 Every virtue or excellence has the effect of producing a good 
 condition of that of which it is a virtue or excellence, and of 
 enabling it to perform its function well. The excellence of the 
 eye e.g. makes the eye good and its function good. Similarly 
 tlie excellence or virtue of a man will be such a moral state as 
 makes him good and able to perform his proper function well. 
 
 In everything there is 
 
 (1) a greater 
 
 (2) a smaller 
 
 (3) an equal 
 whether 
 
 (a) absolute or 
 
 (6) relative to ourselves. 
 
 The equal is a mean between excess and deficiency. The 
 absolute mean is equally distant from both extremes, the relative 
 mean is neither too much nor too little for ourselves. 
 
 In practical matters the wise man seeks and chooses the 
 relative mean. 
 
 Every science or art, if it is to perform its function well, 
 must regard the mean and refer its productions to the mean. 
 Accordingly, successful productions are those to which nothing 
 can be added, and from which nothing can be taken. But virtue 
 is superior to any science or art. Virtue therefore will aim at 
 the mean. 
 
 All emotions and actions admit of excess and deficiency, 
 they admit also of the mean. 
 
 To experience emotions at the right times, on the right 
 occasions, towards the right persons, for the right causes, and in 
 the right manner is the mean, or the supreme good, and this is 
 characteristic of virtue. 
 
 Virtue then is a mean state as aiming at the mean. 
 
 Again, there are many different ways of going wrong, but 
 there is only one way of going right. Evil is infinite, good 
 finite; hence excess and deficiency are characteristics of vice, 
 and the mean state is characteristic of virtue. 
 
XX 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Definition op Viktue. 
 
 Virtue is a state of deliberate moral purpose, consisting in a 
 mean that is relative to ourselves, the mean being determined by 
 reason or as a prudent man would determine it (e|is jrpoaiptTiKij, 
 iv lictTOTrjTi ottra T^ irpos iJ/iSs, dpuTfiivri Xdym Km oSs av 6 ^povifioi 
 opLceuv). 
 
 It is a mean state 
 
 (1) as lying between the two vices of excess and deficiency 
 
 (2) as discovering and embracing the mean in emotions 
 and actions. 
 
 But while virtue is a mean state if regarded in its essence, it 
 is an extreme if regarded from the point of view of the supreme 
 good. 
 
 It is not every action or every emotion that admits of a mean 
 state. 
 
 Some emotions, e.g. malice and envy, some actions, e.g. theft 
 and murder, are intrinsically wicked. These actions and emo- 
 tions are in themselves excesses or deficiencies ; they do not 
 therefore admit of a mean state. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Paeticular vietubs as exemplifications of the mean state. 
 
 Excess Mean State D^iency 
 
 {vmp^o'Kri) {p.ecr6Tr]s) (S^Xei\^is) 
 
 Foolhardiness Courage Cowardice 
 
 {6paa-os) (di/Spei'a) _ (gfiXi'a) 
 
 Licentiousness Temperance Insensibility 
 
 (aKoXaa-la) {aai^poavvrj) (dvaur6rja-ia) 
 
 Prodigality Liberality lUiberality 
 
 (aa-ana) (eXeu^epjorTjf) (dve\ev6epla) 
 
 Vulgarity Magnificence Meanness 
 
 (^avavcria) ■ (jicyaKoirpiircia) {piKponpin€i.a) 
 
 Vanity ^ Highmindedness Littlemindedness 
 
 {xavvoTrjs) (juyaXofvxla) {luKpo^vxla) 
 N.B. Magnificence diflFers from liberality as having to do 
 with large sums of money. 
 
ANALYSIS. 
 
 XXI 
 
 Excess Mean State Deficiency 
 
 Ambition Lack of ambition 
 
 ((^iXoTt/iia) {d<j>iXctTifiia) 
 
 N.B. There is no name for the mean state ; hence sometimes 
 ambition, sometimes lack of ambition is praised. 
 
 Excess Mean State 
 
 Passionateness Gentleness 
 
 (opyiXdnjs) (n-paorijr) 
 
 Boastfulness Truthfulness 
 
 (aXa^oxei'a) (oXij^eui) 
 
 Buffoonery Wittiness 
 
 (^miioKoxia) {evrpaneXia) 
 
 Obsequiousness (if Friendliness 
 
 disinterested {(fnXla) 
 {ApeiTKeia) or 
 
 Flattery (if inte- 
 rested) ((coXaMia) 
 
 Bashfolness Modesty 
 
 (? KaTcar\j)^is) {alSdtj 
 
 Envy Righteous Indigna- 
 
 {(pBovos) tion {v€fie(ris) 
 N.B. This last example is inexact, as Aristotle saw in his 
 
 Rhetoric Envy and Malice are not opposites, but compatible 
 and co-existent. 
 
 Deficiency 
 Impassivity 
 {aopyT]aia) 
 Self-depreciation 
 or Irony (elpavela) 
 Boorishness 
 (aypoott'a) 
 Quarrelsomeness 
 {bvo-KoXia) 
 
 Shamelessness 
 {avaurxvvria) 
 Malice 
 
 {eTTixatpeKaKLo) 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The extremes are opposed both to the mean and to each other; 
 the mean is opposed to the extremes. But the opposition between 
 the two extremes is greater than that between either extreme 
 and the mean. 
 
 In some cases the excess, in others the deficiency, is the more 
 opposed to the mean. Foolhardiness e.g. is more opposed to 
 courage than cowardice, licentiousness is more opposed to tem- 
 perance than insensibility. The reason of this greater opposition 
 lies partly>in the nature of the thing itself, partly in the greater 
 inclination of human nature to one extreme than to the other. 
 
 W. N. E. 
 
XXU ANALYSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Moral virtue then is a mean state as lying between two vioes^ 
 and as aiming at the mean in the emotions and actions. Hence 
 the difficulty of virtuous living, as it is always difficult to find the 
 mean. 
 
 Practical rules for human life. 
 
 (1) To depart from that extreme which is the more opposed 
 to the mean. 
 
 (2) To pull ourselves in the direction opposite to our natural 
 inclination. 
 
 (3) Where the attainment of the mean is impossible, to 
 choose the lesser of two evils. 
 
 Beyond these rules it is impossible to go. No theory will 
 define the limits of right conduct. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Virtue being concerned with emotions and actions, and volun- 
 tary emotions and actions being subjects of praise and blame, but 
 involuntary emotions and actions the subjects of pardon or pity, 
 it is necessary to distinguish what is voluntary from what is. 
 involuntary. 
 
 Actions done under compulsion or from ignorance are involun- 
 tary. But an action is compulsory if its origin is external to the 
 person who does it, e.g. if the wind carries him out of his course. 
 
 It is sometimes difficult to decide whether a particular action 
 is voluntary or involuntary, e.g. if a person does some shameful 
 action at a tyrant's command to save the lives of his parents 
 or children, or if he throws his goods overboard to save his ship. 
 Such actions may be said to be voluntary, as being chosen by 
 the person at the time of doing them, but in the abstract they 
 are involuntary. 
 
ANALYSIS. Xxm 
 
 They may be either laudable or censurable or simply pardon- 
 able. Yet there are probably some actions which a good man could 
 not be compelled to do ; he would rather die any death, however 
 dreadful. 
 
 As a general rule it is a mistake to lay the blame of wrong 
 actions upon external causes rathep than upon our own moral 
 weakness. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 An action which is due to ignorance is non-voluntary, but it is 
 not involuntary unless it is followed by a feeling of pain and 
 regret. 
 
 To act yrojM ignorance is one thing, to act in ignorance is 
 another. A person e.g. who is intoxicated acts not from ignor- 
 ance, but from intoxication, but he acts in ignorance. 
 
 Ignorance is a frequent cause of injustice. But the ignorance 
 which is the cause of injustice is ignorance which affects the 
 moral purpose ; it is also ignorance of the universal ; but the 
 ignorance which is the cause of involuntary action is ignorance of 
 particulars, i.e. of the particular circumstances and occasion of the 
 action. This latter ignorance admits of pity and forgiveness. 
 
 The particulars of action are 
 
 (1) the agent. 
 
 (2) the action itself. 
 
 (3) its occasion, or circumstances {vepi ri fj iv rivi). We 
 may add 
 
 (4) the instrument. 
 
 (5) the object {evcKa tIvos). 
 
 (6) the manner of acting. 
 
 Nobody but a madman' can be ignorant of all these particulars ; 
 but a person may be said to have acted involuntarily if he was 
 ignorant of any one of them, especially if he was ignorant of the 
 most important particulars, although an action cannot be called 
 involuntary in respect of such ignorance, unless it occasions pain 
 and regret to the agent. 
 
 c2 
 
XXIV ANALYSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Action being involuntary, if done under compulsion or from 
 ignorance, it appears to be voluntary, if the agent originates it 
 with a knowledge of the particular circumstances of the action. 
 
 Actions due to passion or. desire are not involuntary for 
 
 (1) if they were, no lower animal would act voluntarily 
 
 (2) it cannot be supposed that nothing which is done from 
 desire or passion is voluntary, or that noble actions are voluntary 
 and shameful actions involuntary. 
 
 There are certain things which ought to be objects of desire, 
 and it cannot be said that these are desired involuntarily. 
 
 Again, what is involuntary is painful, what is done from desire 
 is pleasant. 
 
 Again, there is no difference in respect of involuntariness 
 between errors of reason and errors of passion ; it is a duty to 
 avoid both. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 MoKAL Purpose {irpoalpcms). 
 
 It is closely related to virtue and is a better criterion of 
 character than actions. 
 
 Moral purpose is voluntary (eKova-iov), but volition is a wider 
 term than moral purpose for 
 
 (1) children and the lower animals have volition, but not 
 moral purpose 
 
 (2) actions done on the spur of the moment are voluntary 
 but lack moral purpose. 
 
 (1) Moral purpose is not desire (eVi^u/ii'a), for 
 (a) irrational creatures are capable of desire, but not of 
 moral purpose. 
 
 (6) Moral purpose, but not desire, is proper to continence ; 
 desire, but not moral purpose, to incontinence. 
 
 (c) desire is contrary to moral purpose, but one desire 
 is not contrary to another 
 
 (d) pleasure is the object of desire, but not of moral 
 purpose. 
 
ANALYSIS. XXV 
 
 (2) Moral purpose is not passion {6vn6s) ; for where actions 
 are due to anger, they are not directed by moral purpose. 
 
 (3) Moral purpose is not wish (/SowXTjo-ir), for 
 
 (a) we may wish for impossibilities, e.g. immortality, but 
 we do not purpose them 
 
 (p) we may wish for things which are possible in themselves 
 but lie wholly beyond our own power ; but we do not purpose 
 things, unless it is more or less in our own power to effect them. 
 
 (c) Wish is directed to the end, moral purpose to the 
 means. 
 
 (4) Moral purpose is not opinion (So^a), for 
 
 (a) Opinion applies to all things, i.e. to things which are 
 eternal or impossible, as well as to things which lie within our 
 own power ; moral purpose is confined to things which lie within 
 our own power. 
 
 (6) Opinion is distinguished by being true or false, moral 
 purpose by being good or evil. Nor is moral purpose opinion of a 
 particular kind ; for character depends upon purposing good or 
 evil, not upon holding particular opinions. 
 
 (c) Opinion relates to the nature of things, moral purpose 
 to the duty of accepting or avoiding things. 
 
 (d) Moral purpose is praised rather as being directed to a 
 proper end than as being correct, opinion is praised as being true. 
 
 (e) We purpose such things as we best know to be good ; 
 we foi-m an opinion of things of which we have no knowledge. 
 
 (/) The power of forming the best opinion does not imply 
 the power of making the best moral- choice ; for a person may 
 form a good opinion, but, being vicious, may not purpose good 
 action. 
 
 Moral purpose is not only voluntary, but implies previous 
 deliberation. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 What are the proper subjects of deliberation (jSouXfuujr) ? 
 A subject of deliberation must be understood to be that about 
 which a sensible person would deliberate. It will not be then 
 (as) A thing which is eternal or immutable, e.g. the universe 
 
XXVI ANALYSIS. 
 
 or the incommensurability of the diagonal and the side of a 
 square. 
 
 (p) A thing which follows the same invariable course, e.g. 
 the rising and setting of the sun. 
 
 (c) A thing which is wholly irregular, e.g. the rain. 
 
 {d) A mere accident, e.g. the finding of a treasure. Nor will 
 it be any human aflfair which lies beyond the control of our own 
 action; the matters about which we deliberate are practical 
 matters within our own power. Deliberation relates not to ends 
 but to means. A doctor does not deliberate whether he shall 
 cure his patients, but how he shall cure them. All deliberation 
 is investigation (fijTijo-is) ; but there are forms of investigation, e.g. 
 mathematical investigations, which are not forms of deliberation. 
 The objects of deliberation and of moral purpose are the same, 
 except that the object of moral purpose is itself the result of 
 deliberation. 
 
 Moral purpose then is a deliberative desire of something which 
 it is in our power to effect (/3ou\«ur«i7 Spf^is rav ((j) ruiiv). 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The wish is directed to the end; but what is the end? Is it 
 the good (ro aya66v), or what appears to be the good (ro <j>aiv6ii€vov 
 aya66v) ? In an absolute sense it is the good which is the object 
 of wish, but in reference to the individual it is that which appears 
 to be good. The true good is good relatively to the virtuous man, 
 as the truly wholesome is that which is wholesome to a person in 
 a good state of health. 
 
 Pleasure is a frequent cause of erroneous moral purpose, as 
 appearing to be, but not actually being, good. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Virtue and vice are both voluntary ; for if it is in our power 
 to act, it is in our power to refrain from acting, and if it is in our 
 power to refrain from acting, it is in our power to act. 
 
 This is the justification of the rewards attached to good and 
 the punishments inflicted for evil, action. Ignorance itself is 
 punishable, if it is due to vice or negligence. 
 
ANALYSIS. XXVll 
 
 A person is responsible for his own demoralization. It is no 
 excuse for injustice or licentiousness that a person has formed the 
 habit of unjust or licentious action ; he ought not to have formed 
 the habit. 
 
 Vices of the body, as well as of the soul, are censurable, if they 
 are the results of intemperance or folly. 
 
 The appreciation of virtue is itself the consequence of moral 
 discipline. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Actions (jrp(i|«r) and moral states (e|«r) are both voluntary, 
 but not voluntary in the same sense or degree. 
 
 Actions are voluntary throughout, moral states are voluntary 
 in their inception but not in their development. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Discussion of the several Virtues. 
 I. Courage (dvSpeia). 
 
 It has been defined as a mean state in regard to sentiments of 
 fear and confidence (^etrdrijr Trepl <^oj3oue ral Bapptj). All evil 
 things are objects of fear, but they do not all afford scope for a 
 display of courage. There are some things which it is right to 
 fear, and disgraceful not to fear, e.g. ignominy. Poverty or sick- 
 ness, as not being vicious or the consequence of vice, is not a 
 proper object of fear, although it is an evil. A person is not 
 necessarily courageous if he does not fear poverty or sickness, nor 
 is he cowardly, if he fears insult offered to his wife or children. 
 What are then the fearful things in regard to which a courageous 
 man displays his courage 1 Firstly death. Secondly, the perils of 
 death, and therefore especially the chances of war. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 II. Fear (,<j)6^os). 
 
 There are some things which all men fear, as exceeding the 
 power of human endurance. The things which excite fear, but do 
 not exceed the power of endurance, are of various magnitudes and 
 
XXVUl ANALYSIS. 
 
 degrees. It is the manner in which a person faces these thing* 
 which proves him to be courageous or cowardly. Fear may be 
 wrong either in itself or in its manner, time, etc. The courageous 
 man is he who faces and fears the right things for the right motive, 
 in the right way, and at the right time. To the courageous man 
 courage is noble ; hence nobleness is the end or object of courage. 
 There is no name for excessive fearlessness ; excessive confidence 
 in facing fearful things is called foolhardiness (dpa<ros). Fool- 
 hardiness is a species of imposture, as affecting an unreal courage. 
 Most foolhardy people are cowards at heart. Excessive fearful- 
 ness is cowardice (SeiKia), it is fear of the wrong things in the 
 wrong way, and at the wrong time etc. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Courage then is a mean state in regard to the causes of confi- 
 dence and fear. It chooses action, or endures pain, from love of 
 ntfbleness or fear of disgrace. Suicide, as seeking refuge from 
 evil in death, is an act not of courage but of cowardice. There 
 are five spurious kinds of courage. 
 
 (1) Political or civil courage (ttoXitoc^ di/8ptia), viz. courage 
 engendered by penalties which the laws inflict or honours which 
 they confer. It resembles true courage, as its motive is a sense of 
 honour. Similar to it is the courage of compulsion, as when 
 soldiers are flogged into battle. 
 
 (2) Experience {iineeipia). In war regular troops, having 
 greater experience, are more courageous than raw recruits. On 
 the other hand regular troops in the face of overpowering danger 
 are the first to flee. Experience then is courage only in certain 
 circumstances. 
 
 (3) Passion (dt/ids) spurs men like wild beasts to encounter 
 perils. But nobleness, not passion, is the motive of true courage. 
 The courage of passion must be reinforced by right purpose, if it 
 is to become true courage. 
 
 (4) Sanguineness (to eritKnt). It resembles courage in 
 respect of its confidence, but it differs from courage inasmuch as 
 the confidence of the courageous is due to nobleness, and that of 
 the sanguine to the belief in their own superiority and in their 
 probable immunity from suffering. Sanguine people turn tail, but 
 
ANALYSIS. XXIX 
 
 courageous people do not, if the result does not correspond with 
 their expectation. Courage in meeting unforeseen perils is an 
 evidence of the moral state. 
 
 (5) Ignorance {ayvoia). Ignorance is shortlived courage, as, 
 it is generally destroyed by enlightenment. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Courage in its nature is painful, as it is especially seen in the 
 endurance of painful things ; but the end which courage proposes 
 to itself is pleasant. If the circumstances in which courage is dis- 
 played are painful, courage sees through the circumstances to the 
 end. Still the happier a man is, the greater will be his pain at 
 the prospect of death, and the greater his courage in meeting it 
 bravely. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 III. Temperance {(ra^po(rivrj). 
 
 Temperance is a mean state in respect of pleasures (fieo-ori;? 
 jTfpi i/Soras) ; it is not equally concerned with pains. What are 
 these pleasures 1 They are not mental pleasures such as ambition 
 or the love of learning, neither are they innocent pleasures such 
 as the pleasures of conversation. Temperance applies to bodily 
 pleasures exclusively, but not to all bodily pleasures. A person 
 is not called intemperate or licentious for taking pleasure in the 
 gratification of the sight or hearing, or, as a rule, of the smell. 
 The lower animals are generally incapable of the pleasures of 
 these senses. Temperance and licentiousness (aKoXacria) have to 
 do with such pleasures as the lower animals generally are capable 
 of, i.e. with the pleasures of the touch and the taste, especially of 
 the touch. The touch is the most universal of the senses and it is 
 this of which incontinence is predicable. It is because the plea- 
 sures of touch are shared by man with the lower animals that 
 such pleasures are called brutish. 
 
 Desires are 
 
 (1) universal {Koivai) and natural (<^uo-ueai). 
 
 (2) individual (tStoi) and acquired (iwiSfroi). 
 
 The desire of food e.g. is natural, the desire of a particular 
 food is individual and may be acquired. In respect of the natural 
 
XXX ANALYSIS. 
 
 desires mistakes are rare, and they always take the form of excess. 
 In respect of individual pleasures many people go wrong, and 
 they go wrong in many different ways. Excess in respect of 
 pleasures is licentiousness (dKoXaa-ia). 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The licentious man then desires all pleasures or the greatest 
 pleasures, and desires them above all else. Deficiency in the 
 love of pleasures is non-existent. Temperance is the mean state 
 in respect of pleasures. The temperate man is eager in a mode- 
 rate and right spirit for all such things as are pleasant and whole- 
 some, and for all other pleasures, so long as they are not prejudicial 
 to these, or inconsistent with noble conduct, or extravagant beyond 
 his means. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Licentiousness is more strictly voluntary action than coward- 
 ice, as the former is due to pleasure the latter to pain, for 
 
 (1) we choose pleasure but avoid pain 
 
 (2) pain distracts our nature, pleasure leaves it free. 
 Cowardice as a moral state is less voluntary than particular 
 
 acts of cowardice. Particular acts of licentiousness are more 
 voluntary than licentiousness as a moral state. The tei-m licen- 
 tiousness is applicable to the faults of children as well as to those 
 of grown up people ; hence the necessity of producing an obedient 
 disposition in children. 
 
 In the temperate man the concupiscent element (t6 eViflv/njTtKov) 
 lives in harmony with the reason. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 IV. Liberality (eXevSeptor^s) 
 
 Liberality is a mean state in regard to property (fica-oTris 
 TTcpi xprjiiaTa) i.e. in regard to the giving and taking of property, 
 particularly in giving it. All such things as have their value 
 
ANALYSIS. XXXI 
 
 measured by money {voiuaiui) are property. Prodigality (dcriaria) 
 and illiberality {a.ve\ev6eptn) are excesses and deficiencies in regard 
 to property. 
 
 Things which admit of use may be used either well or badly, 
 bvit riches are a useful thing. He will make the best use of riches 
 who possesses the virtue appropriate to property, i.e. the liberal 
 man. Right giving is more truly distinctive of the liberal man 
 than right taking, for 
 
 (1) virtue is better seen in the author than in the recipient 
 of benefactions 
 
 (2) gratitude is the reward of giving rather than that of 
 not taking 
 
 (3) there is less virtue in not taking than in giving 
 
 (4) giving is a sign of liberality, not taking is rather a 
 sign of justice. 
 
 Of all forms of virtue liberality is the best beloved. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The liberal man gives from a noble motive and in a right 
 spirit, i.e. he gives the right amount to the right persons and 
 at the right time ; also his giving is done with pleasure or without 
 pain. He does not take from wrong sources, nor is he inclined to 
 ask favours ; his taking is only a means to subsequent giving ; he 
 is careful of his own property as being anxious to employ it in 
 relieving others ; he refrains from giving indiscriminately in order 
 to have the means of giving aright. Excessive liberality is pre- 
 judicial to a person's own interest. 
 
 Liberality consists not in the amount of the money given, but 
 in the moral state of the giver. People who have inherited money 
 are more liberal than people who have made it. The liberal man 
 values wealth not for its own sake but as affording an opportunity 
 of giving ; but he does not give to the wrong people, or on the 
 wrong occasion etc. The liberal man may be defined as one who 
 spends in proportion to his substance and who spends upon the 
 right objects ; he takes too from the right sources and to the right 
 amount; he is easy to deal with in money matters, for if he spends 
 more than is right, it is less painful to him than if he does not 
 spend enough. 
 
XXXU ANALYSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Prodigality (da-coTla) exceeds in giving and in not taking but is^ 
 deficient in taking. 
 
 lUiberality {avekevBepla) is deficient in giving and exceeds in 
 taking, but on a small scale. 
 
 The two characteristics of prodigality, viz. giving and not 
 taking, can seldom be combined in the same person; for the one 
 naturally prevents the other. 
 
 A prodigal is a liberal man who has run wild ; let him be re- 
 formed, and he will become liberal. The fault of his nature is not 
 vice but folly. But a prodigal often does more harm than good, as he 
 spends his money recklessly, and his extravagant spending leads to 
 unscrupulous taking. - Thus the prodigal becomes selfish and 
 licentious. But while prodigality may be cured, illiberality is 
 incurable ; it is more natural to man than prodigality, it is of wide 
 extent too, and assumes numerous forms. But the characteristics 
 of illiberality, viz. deficient giving and excessive taking, are not 
 always found together. 
 
 Some people, e.g. misers, are deficient in giving, but they do 
 not covet other people's property ; others again, while naturally 
 abstaining from giving, are induced by fear to abstain from 
 taking. 
 
 Others are unscrupulous as to the sources from which they 
 take ; but if people take large sums from wrong, sources, e.g. by 
 sacking cities or plundering temples, they are called wicked and 
 impious rather than illiberal. 
 
 The essence of illiberality is a sordid love of gain. 
 
 Illiberality may be regarded as the opposite of liberality, and 
 as being a greater and more natural evil than prodigality. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 V. Magnificence (iieyaXoTrpeneia). 
 
 It resembles liberality as having to do with property or having 
 to do with the use of property, but diflTers from it in scale. 
 
 Magnificence is suitable expenditure upon a great scale (iv 
 H^yieei. wpenovira Sairavt]), but the greatness is relative to the 
 person, occasion, and circumstances. 
 
ANALYSIS. XXXUl 
 
 The deficiency corresponding to magnificence is meanness 
 
 ■(/UKpOTrporcio), the excess vulgarity (fiavava-ia). 
 
 It is essential to magnificence that the result as well as the 
 occasion should be worthy of the large expendittire- 
 
 The nature of magnificence is nobleness, its spirit is cheerful 
 and lavish ; in a word magnificence is excellence of work on a 
 great scale. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 It follows that a poor man is incapable of magnificence. A 
 rich man may display magnificence 
 
 (a) in the ceremonial of divine worship. 
 (6) in liturgies (Xetroupytai) or services rendered to the 
 state. ' 
 
 (c) on private occasions of rare occurrence, e.g. marriage. 
 
 (d) on any occasion of peculiar interest to the state or the 
 upper classes. 
 
 Magnificence in all cases presupposes propriety. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Vulgarity consists in excessive expenditure, i.e. in expenditure 
 disproportionate to the occasion. Its motive is ostentation not 
 nobleness. 
 
 Meanness is deficiency of expenditure ; it often ruins a great 
 work for the sake of petty economy. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 VI. High-Mindedness (jieydko\jrvxia)- 
 
 A highminded person is one who regards himself as worthy of 
 Ugh things and who is worthy of them (o neyakav avrov d^mv 
 a|(or uk). He is distinguished from 
 
 (a) a person who is worthy of small things and who regards 
 himself as worthy of them. 
 
 (6) a person who regards himself as worthy of high things 
 and is unworthy of them. 
 
 (c) a person who takes too low a view of his own worth. 
 
XXXIV ANALYSIS. 
 
 The highminded person, as estimating his own desert neither 
 too highly nor too lowly, occupies an intermediate position. 
 
 The thing for which he cares most is honour. Meanminded- 
 ness (jiiKpoyjrvxia) is an under-estimate, conceit {xaworris) an over- 
 estimate, of one's personal desert. 
 
 The highminded man, as being worthy of the highest things, 
 must be in the highest degree good. Highmindedness then is, as 
 it were, the crown of the virtues {Koa-fios ris rav. aperav). 
 
 While caring principally, but not inordinately, for honour, the 
 highminded man takes a moderate view of wealth, political power 
 etc. ; he is not excessively elated by good, nor excessively de- 
 pressed by illfortune. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The gifts of fortune contribute to highmindedness, as high 
 birth and great political power or wealth are considered to be 
 titles to honour; but virtue constitutes the sole true title to 
 honour. 
 
 People who possess wealth, power etc. without virtue are apt 
 to become supercilious and insolent. 
 
 The highminded man alone is justified in his contempt for 
 others. 
 
 Characteristics of highmindedness 
 
 [a) To shrink from encountering small dangers, but to be 
 ready to encounter great dangers. 
 
 (&) To be fond of conferring benefits but ashamed of re- 
 ceiving them. 
 
 (c) To try to return benefits with interest. 
 
 {d) To be unwilling to ask favours. 
 
 («) To bear oneself with dignity towards the great, but 
 with moderation towards the middle class. 
 
 (/) To be free from self-assertion. 
 
 \g) To avoid fussiness or hurry. 
 
 (Ji) To act seldom, but effectively. 
 
 (i) To be open in one's hatreds and friendships. 
 
ANALYSIS. XXXV 
 
 (j) To care more for reality than for reputation ; therefore 
 to be truthful. 
 
 (k) To eschew servility. 
 
 (^ To be little given to admiration. 
 
 (m) Not to bear grudges. 
 
 (n) To avoid gossip or evil speaking. 
 
 (o) Not to whine over what is inevitable or insignificant. 
 
 (p) To prefer nobleness to profit. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The deficiency corresponding to highmindedness is mean- 
 mindedness (juKpoyfrvxi<^), the excess conceit (xavvon;;). 
 
 The meanminded person is one who, being worthy of good 
 things, deprives himself of the things of which he is worthy ; his 
 spirit is one of self-ignorance and self-depreciation. It results in 
 deterioration of character. The conceited person aims at effect ;. 
 his spirit is one of self-ezaltation. 
 
 Meamuindedness, rather than conceit, is opposed to high- 
 mindedness. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Highmindedness then has to do with honour on a large scale. 
 The virtue which is related to highmindedness as liberality is 
 related to magnificence, i.e. which has to do with honour on a 
 small scale, has no name. The excessive desire of honour is called, 
 ambition ((^iXoTJ/xm; ; but ambition is a neutral term, being some- 
 times I'egarded as a vice, at other times as a virtue. The opposite- 
 of ambition is lack of ambition {a<f>t\oniiia). 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 VIL Gentleness (npaanis). 
 
 Gentleness, or good temper, is a mean state in respect of angry 
 feelings (fieo-onyr Trepi opyds) ; the excess is irascibility (opyiXon/s), 
 the deficiency may be described as a phlegmatic disposition 
 (dopyiiiria). 
 
 The excess may take the form of 
 
XXXVl ANALYSIS. 
 
 (a) irascibility {opyiXorrji). 
 
 (6) quick temper (aitpoxoXia). 
 
 (c) sullenness {m.Kpim]s). 
 
 (d) sternness (xaKeircmis). 
 
 The mean state, i.e. good temper, is tlie state of a person who 
 does not get angry, except with the right persons, on the right 
 occasions, in the right manner etc. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 VIII. Friendliness ((piKia). 
 
 There is no name for the mean state between complaisance 
 '{apea-Keiaj and surliness (Svo-KoX/a) ; it most nearly resembles 
 friendliness. It is the state of a person who in association with 
 other people is neither over-anxious to give pleasure nor over- 
 indifferent about giving pain. If a person seeks to give pleasure 
 without any ulterior object, it is called complaisance, if he seeks 
 to give it for the sake of some personal advantage, it is called 
 ftattery (itoXaiceia). 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IX. Truthfulness {dX^6cia). 
 
 There is also no name for the mean state between boastfulness 
 (aXaCoveia) and irony or self- depreciation {elpaveia). The inter- 
 mediate character is a species of truthfulness. A departure from 
 truth on the side of exaggeration may be either pretentiousness 
 or boastfulness; such a departure on the side of depreciation is 
 irony or if it applies to small things, humbug ; but exaggerated 
 deficiency, as well as excess, is a form of boastfulness. 
 
 Boastfulness is more opposed to truthfulness than irony. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 X. Wittiness {fvrpaireXia). 
 
 In respect of relaxation (avdirava-is) or diversion (Staymyij) the 
 excess is buffoonery {^apoKoxla), the deficiency boorislmess 
 ■.(aypioTtjs), the mean state is wittiness (cvrpairfXia). 
 
ANALYSIS. XXXvii 
 
 The characteristic of wittiness is tact (im&e^iorrjs). 
 A re6ned gentleman is in action and conversation a law to 
 himself. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Shame {alBai) is rather an emotion than a moral state. It is 
 an emotion appropriate not to all ages, but to youth. It is virtuous 
 only hypothetically, i.e. it is virtue subsequent to deeds which are 
 wrong in themselves, and ought not to have been done. 
 
 BOOK V. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JUSTICB (Sucaiatru'i/ij) AND INJUSTICE (dfioem). 
 
 Justice is the moral state which makes people capable of 
 doing what is just and makes them just in action and intention. 
 Injustice is the opposite moral state. 
 
 The moral states (?^«s) are different from the sciences («Vt- 
 arrjfiai,) and faculties (SuKa/iets) ; for the same faculty or science 
 applies to contraries, but one of two contrary moral states does 
 not apply to its contraries. 
 
 One of two contrary moral states may be ascertained from 
 the other, or moral states may be ascertained from a considera- 
 tion of their phenomena. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The words justice and injustice are used in a plurality of 
 senses, and the various senses being closely allied are apt to be 
 confiised. A person is said to be unjust 
 
 (a) if he breaks the law of the land 
 
 (b) if he takes more than his share of anything. 
 Similarly he is said to be just 
 
 (a) if he keeps the law 
 
 (6) if he acts fairly towards others. 
 
 W. N. E. d 
 
XXXVm ANALYSIS. 
 
 Where injustice is equivalent to unfairness, i.e. where it means 
 taking more than one's share (n-Xeow^ia), it is concerned with the 
 goods of fortune. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The law-breaker being unjust and the law-abiding person just, 
 it follows that whatever is lawful is in some sense jjist. The 
 object of laws is the interest of the community as a whole. All 
 that tends then to create and to conserve happiness in the body- 
 politic is in one sense just. 
 
 Justice as so defined is complete virtue in relation to one's 
 neighbours ; hence justice alone of the virtues seems to be the 
 good of others. This justice is not a part of virtue but the whole 
 of virtue ; the corresponding injustice is not a part of vice but , 
 the whole of vice. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Justice then is either virtue as a whole or a part of virtue; 
 injustice either vice as a whole or a part of vice. In the large 
 sense justice and injustice are concerned with the whole sphere 
 of virtiious or vicious action, in the narrow sense with the goods 
 of fortune, i.e. honour, property etc. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The unjust then is 
 (a) the illegal ■ 
 (J?) the unfair. 
 Similarly the just is 
 (a) the legal 
 (6) the fair. 
 But illegality stands to unfairness in the relation of the whole 
 to its part. The partial justice and injustice then are parts of 
 justice and injustice as wholes. 
 
 Justice and injustice as wholes are generally determinable by 
 law; they are coextensive with the field of legal enactments. 
 Particular justice may take two forms, viz. 
 
ANALYSIS. XXXIX 
 
 (1) the distribution of honour, wealth etc. among the 
 members of the community 
 
 (2) the correction of wrong in private transactions. 
 Private transactions again may be 
 
 (a) voluntary, such as buying, selling, etc. 
 (6) involuntary : 
 and, further, involuntary transactions may be 
 {a) secret, e.g. theft, adultery etc. 
 (&) violent, e.g. assault, rape, murder etc. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Particular injustice being equivalent to unfairness, the mean 
 state is fairness or equality {to io-ok). 
 
 But fairness or equality implies twO' persons or things at least. 
 The just then is 
 
 (1) a mean 
 
 (2) fair or equal, 
 
 (3) relative to certain persons. 
 
 Consequently the just implies four terms at least, the persons 
 relatively to whom it is just being two, and the things in which 
 it consists being also two. Also, if the persons are equal, the 
 things will be equal, and where there is inequality of persons, 
 there ought to be inequality in the shares of the things. Justice 
 then is a sort of proportion [avoKoyov n). Proportion implies 
 four terms ; hence the just requires four terms at least, and an 
 equality of ratio between them. Thus, if A and B are persons, 
 C and D things, as A is to B, so will C be to Z>. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The conjunction of A with C and of B with D will be what is 
 just in distribution {8tavoiJ,ri). This justice is a mean between the 
 violations of proportion, it is in mathematical language a geome- 
 trical proportion. Hence injustice, being disproportionate, may 
 take the form either of excess or defect, or rather of excess on 
 the one side and of defect on the other. 
 
 d2 
 
xl ANALYSIS, 
 
 Corrective justice (ro hiop6aTiK.6v) occurs in private trans- 
 actions, whether voluntary or involuntary. It is also a form of 
 proportion, but it is an arithmetical not a geometrical proportion. 
 It presupposes an injustice, i.e. an unfairness or unequality, and 
 aims at redressing it by taking away so much from one party and 
 adding so much to the other. Fairness or inequality in this 
 sense is the mean between excess and defect. It is as if a line 
 be divided into unequal segments, and the part by which the 
 larger of the two segments exceeds the half be cut oflf and added 
 to the smaller segment. It aims at placing people, after ex- 
 change, in the same position in which they stood before it. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Retaliation (to avmreirovBos) is not equivalent to justice whether 
 distributive {hiaveiofriKov) or corrective {hmpBanKov). Retaliation 
 takes no account of 
 
 {a) a person's character or office 
 (6) his will. 
 
 Requital may be requital either of good or evil. Propor- 
 tionate requital is produced by cross conjunction (ij Kara 8ta/*e- 
 rpov avCfv^ts). Suppose .4 is a builder, B a cobbler, C a house, 
 D a shoe. In order that retaliation or reciprocity {avrairoSoa-is) 
 may be attained, it is necessary to equate the goods, viz. the 
 house and the shoe; in other words, the subjects of exchange 
 must be comparable. 
 
 Money (j/o/xto-;ua) is the means of comparison or equation 
 between objects of exchange. It serves as a single universal 
 standard of measurement. Society rests upon thfe demand for 
 mutual services. Money is the most stable of goods, its value is 
 the most cdnstant. Thus society implies exchange, exchange 
 equality of goods, equality commensurability, and commensura- 
 bility money. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Just conduct then is a mean between committing and suffer- 
 ing injustice. Injustice is an extreme, whether of excess or of 
 defect, justice a mean. 
 
ANALYSIS. xli 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It does not follow, if a person commits injustice (dS««T), that 
 he is necessarily unjust (S&ikos). To be uiyust is not to commit 
 an unjust action but to have the moral state of injustice. 
 
 Justice, i.e. political justice, implies law, it can only exist 
 where the relations of people are legally defined. A magistrate 
 is a guardian of justice and therefore of equality. Justice as 
 between masters and slaves or between parents and children is 
 different from political justice. 
 
 Political justice is partly natural, partly conventional The 
 part of political justice which is natural is that which has the 
 same authority everywhere and is independent of opinion. The 
 part which is conventional is dependent upon law or custom and 
 differs in different places. It is wrong to hold that all political 
 justice is conventional. Every rule of justice or law stands to 
 individual actions in the relation of the universal to particulars. 
 Just or unjust action implies that a person acts voluntarily. 
 Voluntary action has been defined to be such action as is in a 
 person's power and is done by him knowingly; involuntary 
 action such aa is not done knowingly or is done knowingly but is 
 not in a person's power or is done by him imder compulsion. If 
 a person performs just or unjust actions involuntarily, the justice 
 or injustice is accidental, it is not inherent in the actions. 
 
 Voluntary actions are done either with or without deliberate 
 purpose. An action done in ignorance is called a mistake (d/uip- 
 TTjiia), if the person affected, or the thing done or the instrument 
 or the effect is not such as the agent supposed. It is called a 
 mishap (i-rvxriiia) if the hurt done is contrary to the expectation 
 of the agent. But an unjust action done vrith knowledge though 
 vrithout deliberation, is an act of injustice {dSUrjfia). But it is 
 only when the action is the result of deliberate purpose that the 
 agent deserves to be called unjust. Involuntary actions are 
 either venial or not. They are venial, if they are committed not 
 only in ignorance but Jrom ignorance. They are not venial, if 
 they are not committed from ignorance but in ignorance and 
 from an emotion which is neither natural nor human. 
 
xlii ANALYSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Is it possible for a person to suffer injustice voluntarily ? 
 
 The answer seems to depend upon the definition of doing 
 injustice. If to do injustice means simply to hurt somebody 
 voluntarily, and voluntariliness implies knowledge of the person, 
 the instrument, and the manner, then a person, e.g. an inconti- 
 nent person, if he hurts himself voluntarily, may be said to suffer 
 injustice voluntarily. But if, as is probable, to do injustice 
 implies action contrary to the wish of the person to whom it is 
 done, the suffering of injustice cannot be voluntary. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 (1) Is it he who assigns to somebody else more than he 
 deserves, or he who enjoys it, thkt commits injustice ? 
 
 (2) Can a person do injustice to himself ? 
 
 It is the distributor who commits the injustice, for his action 
 is voluntary. 
 
 An action, unless it is voluntary, cannot be unjust. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Justice is difficult of attainment, as it consists not in actions 
 but in a moral state. Consequently the idea that it is not less 
 characteristic of the just man to act unjustly than to act justly is 
 absurd. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Equity [muiKeia). 
 
 Equity is not identical with justice nor is it generically diffe- 
 rent from it. The just and the equitable are both good, but the 
 equitable is better. The equitable is just, but it is not just in 
 the eye of the law; it is a rectification of legal justice. For all 
 law is couched in general terms ; but there are cases upon which 
 it is impossible to pronounce correctly in general terms, and 
 equity applies to these cases. Equity in fact represents the 
 mind, as opposed to the rule, of the legislator. 
 
ANALYSIS. xliii 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The question of acting unjustly to oneself affects the right of 
 suicide. The suicide acts unjustly, but unjustly to the state, not 
 to himself. This is the reason why the state punishes suicide. 
 An act of injustice is not only voluntary and deUberate but prior 
 in time to the injury received ; but if a person can act unjustly to 
 himself, he will be simultaneously the author and the victim of 
 the same injustice. It is bad to suffer injustice and bad to 
 commit it, but worse to commit it than to suffer it. Speaking 
 metaphorically we may say that there is a justice between the 
 different parts of a man's being ; it is in respect of these different 
 parts that a person may be said to be capable of injustice to 
 himself. 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The mean lies between the excess and the deficiency. It is 
 also such as right reason decides. But it is necessary to explain 
 this definition of the mean and to explain it by defining the 
 nature of right reason. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It has been laid down that the soul is divisible into two 
 parts, 
 
 (1) the rational (to \6yov txP") 
 
 (2) the irrational {to aXoyov). 
 
 But the rational p:irt may be similarly subdivided. 
 It includes 
 {a) the scientific part {to ivurrriiioviKov), i.e. the part with 
 which we contemplate such existences as have invariable prin- 
 ciples {to. ovra Sacov al apxai. lO) ev84xovTai aWas fx^'")- 
 
 (6) the ratiocinative part (to XoyianKov), i.e. the part with 
 which we contemplate such existences as are variable (ra fV8e- 
 XOfieva SKkas cx^"')- 
 
xliv ANALYSIS. 
 
 It is necessary to ascertain the perfect state of each of these 
 parts of the soul. 
 
 There are three faculties of the soul which determine action 
 and truth, viz. 
 
 (1) Sensation (ata-Sria-is) 
 
 (2) Reason (voOt) 
 
 (3) Appetite or Desire (opef«). 
 
 Sensation cannot originate moral action, for brutes possess 
 sensation but are incapable of such action. But as moral virtue 
 is a state of deliberate moral purpose, and moral pui-pose is 
 deliberative desire, it follows that moral virtue implies 
 (a) truth of reason, 
 (6) Tightness of desire. 
 
 Moral purpose then is the origin of action. The mere intel- 
 lect by itself possesses no motive power, it must be intellect 
 directed to a certain end, i.e. it must be practical. The moral 
 purpose can have no relation to the past; it is the future or 
 contingent, not the past, which is the subject of deliberation. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 There are five means by which the soul arrives at truth, viz. 
 
 (1) Art («'x>^) 
 
 (2) Science {emtn-rijui) 
 
 (3) Prudence {i^povrjais) 
 
 (4) Wisdom {(Tofpia) 
 
 (5) Intuitive Reason (voCi). 
 
 (1) Whatever is the object of science is invariable and 
 eternal. It is also capable of being learnt, whether by induction 
 (inayayij) or by syllogism ((ruXXoyttr/idt). Science then is a 
 demonstrative state of mind ; it implies certainty. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 (2) That which is variable includes the objects 
 (a) of production 
 
 (6) of action. 
 
ANALYSIS. Xlv 
 
 Art may be defined as a rationally productive state of mind ; 
 it relates to the creation of things -whose existence was not 
 necessary but contingent, and whose original cause lies in the 
 producer himself. The end of art is production, not action. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 (3) Prudence is the capacity of deliberating well upon 
 what is good or expedient for oneself, not in a particular but in a 
 general or comprehensive sense. But deliberation does not 
 apply to such matters as are incapable of alteration or as lie 
 beyond one's own power of action ; its end is not production but 
 action. 
 
 Prudence therefore is neither a science nor an art. It may 
 be said to be a true rational and practical state of mind in the 
 field of human good and evil. Prudence differs from art 
 {a) as not admitting of excellence 
 (&) as preferring involuntary error to voluntary. 
 
 It is, in fact, virtue of the opiniative (to So|aoT«oy) part of 
 the soul. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 (4) The first principles of scientific truth are not the 
 subjects of science or art or prudence, neither are they the 
 subjects of wisdom, as the wise man sometimes proceeds from 
 premisses which are not themselves demonstrable. 
 
 (5) There remains only the intuitive reason as the means 
 by which these principles are apprehended. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Wisdom is either special, as referring to a particular art, or 
 general. General wisdom is the most consummate of the sciences. 
 It is the union of intuitive reason and science. It is higher than 
 statesmanship, as its subjects are, or may be, higher than Man ; 
 it is the union of science and intuitive reason in the sphere of 
 things of the most honourable nature. 
 
xlvi ANALYSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Prudence deals with such things as are of human interest and 
 admit of deliberation. It is a practical virtue, and, as being 
 practical, has to do, not with universals only, but primarily with 
 particulars. The architectonic or supreme form of prudence is 
 statesmanship. But prudence in the strict sense is generally 
 taken to relate to one's own individual interests. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Prudence then is the knowledge of one's own interests. Such 
 knowledge implies experience, and experience is inconsistent with 
 youth. 
 
 Prudence is the antithesis of intuitive reason, as dealing with 
 particular facts which are matters not of scientific knowledge, 
 but of perception. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Deliberation is a particular form of investigation. 
 "Wise deliberation is 
 
 (a) not science {iirumjfirj) 
 
 (6) not happy conjecture {eia-Toxta) 
 
 (c) not sagacity {dyxivoia) 
 
 (d) not opinion (So^a) of any kind. 
 
 But it necessarily implies the exercise of reason. It remains 
 that wise deliberation must be correctness of thought in delibe- 
 ration. Not that all correct deliberation is wise deliberation; 
 for it is possible to arrive at what is good by a false syllogism. 
 It is correctness of object, manner, and time, in matters of 
 expediency. Also it may be either absolute or relative to a 
 certain end; in a word it may be defined as correctness in 
 matters of expediency with reference to a particular end. ' 
 
ANALYSIS. xlvii 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Intelligence (o-uxfo-ii) is dififerent from opinion. If it were 
 not, everybody would be intelligent. It is also different from 
 prudence, although its sphere is the same. Intelligence is critical, 
 i.e. it makes distinctions ; prudence is imperative, i.e. it issues 
 commands. Judgment or consideration (yviifiri) is a correct 
 determination of what is equitable ; hence equity is a disposition 
 to forgiveness. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Intuitive reason, prudence, intelligence, and judgment may be 
 all regarded as having the same tendency; they are all concerned 
 with matters of action, i.e. with ultimate truths; for both the 
 first principles and the particular facts with which intuitive 
 reason deals are ultimate truths (lo-xara). Demonstration (otto- 
 8«|w) starts from the truths of intuitive reason and is through- 
 out concerned vrith those truths. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 What is the utility of wisdom and prudence ? 
 (a) They are desirable in themselves, as being each a 
 virtue of one of the two parts of the soul. 
 (6) They are in a sense productive, 
 (c) They are essential to the discharge of a person's proper 
 function. While virtue ensures the correctness of the moral 
 purpose, prudence decides upon such means as are natural in 
 order to give that purpose effect. 
 
 The faculty of hitting upon the means conducive to a given 
 object is called cleverness (Seivorris). Prudence is cleverness 
 tempered by virtue, just as virtue properly so called is natural 
 virtue fortified by reason. Goodness then in a proper sense is 
 impossible without prudence, prudence is impossible without 
 moral virtue. 
 
 Prudence does not employ, but aims at producing wisdom ; 
 it does not rule wisdom but rules in the interests of wisdom. 
 
xlviii ANALYSIS. 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 There are three species of moral character to be avoided, viz. 
 vice (KaKia) incontinence (aKpacrla) and brutality (dripionis). The 
 opposite of vice is virtue ; the opposite of incontinence is conti- 
 nence; the opposite of brutality may be called heroic or divine 
 virtue. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It is generally held that the continent man 
 
 (a) abides by his calculations 
 
 (6) is prevented by his reason from foUovping his wrong 
 desires, 
 and that the incontinent man 
 
 (a) departs from his calculations 
 
 (b) is led by his emotions to do what he knows to be wrong. 
 The relations of continence, temperance, and steadfastness 
 
 (xaprcpia) and again of incontinence and licentiousness, are matters 
 of dispute. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 How is it that a person, if his conceptions of duty are right, 
 acts incontinently ? 
 
 The Socratic denial of incontinence, on the ground that nobody 
 who has a conception of what is best acts against it, is at 
 variance with the facts of experience. Incontinence implies the 
 existence of strong and base desires; temperance implies the 
 absence of such desires. Continence, although it implies adher- 
 ence to opinion, does not imply adherence to every opinion ; for 
 if an opinion is wrong, it is better not to adhere to it. 
 
 Again, if there is incontinence in all things and not in regard 
 to the sensual emotions alone, who is continent in an absolute 
 sense 1 
 
ANALYSIS. xlix 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Three questions necessarily arise respecting continence, 
 
 (1) Can incontinent people be said to act with knowledge, 
 and if so, what is the nature of that knowledge ? 
 
 (2) What is the sphere of continence or incontinence 1 
 
 (3) Are the continent person and the steadfast person the 
 same or different ? 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The word knowledge is used in two distinct senses ; it may 
 mean 
 
 (a) that a person possesses knowledge, but does not apply 
 it, 
 
 (6) that he applies his knowledge. 
 It is only when wrong action is taken after reflexion that it 
 appears strange. An incontinent person is like a person who is 
 asleep, or mad, or intoxicated ; in one sense he possesses, but in 
 another sense he does not possess, knowledge. Brutes are not 
 said to be incontinent, as having no universal conceptions. The 
 deliverance of an incontinent person from ignorance and his 
 restoration to knowledge is similar to a person's recovery from 
 intoxication, or his awakening after sleep. Incontinence then 
 occurs when a person possesses not knowledge in a full sense 
 but only such knowledge as depends on sensation. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Can a person be incontinent in an absolute sense, and if so what 
 is the sphere of such a person's incontinence ? 
 
 Pleasures and pains are the sphere in which continence and in- 
 continence are displayed. But the things which produce pleasure 
 are (a) necessary, e.g. the processes of nutrition and of sexual love, 
 (6) not necessary but desirable in themselves, e.g. victory, honour, 
 wealth. 
 
 If a person exceeds the limits of right reason in the latter 
 class of things, he is not called incontinent in an absolute sense 
 
1 ANALYSIS. 
 
 but incontinent in respect of money, honour etc. ; but if he exceeds 
 those limits in respect of bodily or sensual enjoyments, and exceeds 
 them not of deliberate purpose but contrary to his purpose and 
 intelligence, he is called incontinent in an absolute sense. States 
 of brutality, however produced, lie beyond the pale of human vice 
 and therefore of human incontinence. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Incontinence in respect of angry passion is less disgraceful 
 than incontinence in respect of sensual desire ; for 
 
 (1) Passion follows reason in a sense ; desire disobeys and 
 disregards reason. 
 
 (2) Passion is more natural than the desire of excessive 
 pleasure. 
 
 (3) Passion is less cunning than desire. 
 
 (4) Passionate action involves pain, but wantonness is 
 associated with pleasure. Continence and incontinence then are 
 properly concerned with bodily desires and pleasures and with 
 such of these desires and pleasures as are human ; hence brutes 
 are not called continent or temperate. 
 
 Brutality is not so bad as vice, but it is more formidable. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The licentious person is worse than the incontinent, as he 
 acts in cold blood, or without a strong momentary desire. 
 
 Continence is preferable to steadfastness, as it implies not 
 mere resistance to pain but victory over pleasure. 
 
 The love of amusement is rather effeminacy than licentious- 
 ness. 
 
 Incontinence assumes the form sometimes of impetuosity, at 
 other times of weakness. 
 
ANALYSIS. li 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Licentiousness is indisposed to repentance, it is tlierefore in- 
 curable; incontinence is disposed to repentance, it is therefore 
 curable. Vice may be unconscious, incontinence cannot. 
 
 Incontinence, unlike licentiousness, does not imply loss of 
 principle. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A person is incontinent, if he does not abide by moral purpose 
 or reason, i.e. by right moral purpose and true reason. A person 
 who abides by his opinion at all costs is called obstinate llaxvpo- 
 yvdfuov). Obstinate people are 
 
 (1) self-opinionated {IStoyvdnoves). 
 
 (2) ignorant (a^adeis). 
 
 (3) boorish (aypoiKoi). 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Continence is the mean state between excess and deficiency of 
 pleasure in bodily gratifications. Both the excess and the defi- 
 ciency are vicious, but the deficiency is rarely seen. 
 
 The difference between continence and temperance is that the 
 incontinent person and the licentious person both pursue bodily 
 pleasures, but the former does not, and the latter does, regard it 
 as right to pursue them. 
 
 Prudence and incontinence are incompatible, as prudence 
 implies virtuous character. 
 
 There are various kinds of incontinence. The incontinence 
 which is the result of habit is more easily curable than the incon- 
 tinence which is the result of nature. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Three opinions respecting pleasure, 
 (I) That no pleasure is a good either essentially or acci- 
 dentallv. 
 
Hi ANALYSIS. 
 
 (2) That some pleasures are good, but the majority are 
 bad. 
 
 (3) That even if every pleasure is a good, the supreme 
 good cannot be pleasure. 
 
 (1) In general pleasure ia not a good ; for 
 
 {a) Every pleasure is a process to a natural state, it is not 
 an end. 
 
 (6) Pleasure is eschewed by the temperate man. 
 
 (c) Not pleasure but painlessness is pursued by the prudent 
 man. 
 
 {d) Pleasure is an impediment to thought. 
 
 («) There is no art of pleasure. 
 
 (/) Children and brute beasts pursue pleasure. 
 
 (2) Pleasures are not all virtuous ; for some are disreputable. 
 
 (3) Pleasure is not the supreme good, as it is not an end but 
 a process. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Good is of two kinds, viz. 
 (a) Absolute. 
 (6) Relative. 
 
 Moral states then, and also motions and processes, will be of 
 two kinds. 
 
 The good is 
 (a) an activity (eWpyeia), 
 (6) a moral state (l^is). 
 
 Hence such processes as restore a person to his rational con- 
 dition are only pleasant in an accidental sense ; they are not 
 natural or absolute pleasures. 
 
 Nor is it true that in all pleasures there is an end distinct 
 from the pleasures themselves. Pleasure should therefore be 
 defined as an unimpeded activity of the natural state of one's 
 being {aveiiiroSiaros evepyna Trjs Kara fjivcriv e^eas). 
 
 Some pleasures may be injurious, but it does not follow that 
 all pleasures are bad. 
 
ANALYSIS. liii 
 
 No moral state is impeded by the pleasure which it produces ; 
 it is impeded only by alien pleasures. 
 
 If pleasure is not a product of art, neither is any other 
 activity. 
 
 Children and brute beasts pursue pleasures, but not absolute 
 pleasures. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 As pain is an evil, either absolutely or relatively, its opposite, 
 viz. pleasure, must be a good. Also happiness is an activity and 
 an unimpeded activity, but such unimpeded activity is pleasure. 
 
 Pleasure of some kind then is the supreme good. 
 
 External goods, and goods of fortune are necessary as ac- 
 cessories to happiness ; they do not themselves constitute happi- 
 ness. 
 
 The fact that all brutes and all men pursue pleasure is an 
 indication that pleasure is in some sense the supreme good; but it 
 is a mistake to identify pleasure with bodily pleasures. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Reasons why bodily pleasures appear more desirable than 
 other pleasures. 
 
 (1) Such pleasures drive out pain. 
 
 (2) They are violent, and are therefore pursued by people 
 who are incapable of other pleasures. Human nature, not being 
 simple, requires change of pleasures. God enjoys one simple 
 pleasure everlastingly. 
 
 W. N. E. 
 
liv ANALYSIS, 
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Pkibndship or Love ((jtiKia). 
 
 (1) It is indispensable at all ages and in all the circum- 
 stances of life. 
 
 (2) It is natural, as is seen in the natural love of parents 
 for their offspring, not only among human beings, but throughout 
 the animal world. 
 
 (3) It is social, as being the bond which holds states 
 together. 
 
 (4) It is noble, and is therefore the subject of praise. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 What is the nature of friendship or love ? 
 
 It has been defined as a sort of likeness {o/jioiorrjs). But like- 
 ness whether of temper or of occupation has been also held to be 
 prejudicial to friendship or love. 
 
 In order to understand friendship or kve it is necessary to 
 understand what is lovable. 
 
 The lovable is that which is good or pleasant or useful, and 
 a thing is useful if it is a means to what is good or pleasant. It 
 is relative good, i.e. good considered not absolutely but in relation 
 to an individual, that is lovable in his eyes. The term friendship 
 or love is not applicable to the affection felt for inanimate things, 
 for 
 
 (1) such things cannot reciprocate affection, 
 
 (2) we do not wish the good of such things, e.g. we cannot 
 be said to wish the good of wine. 
 
 Friendship or love as distinguished from mere good will 
 (eSvoia) requires 
 
 (a) that it should be reciprocated 
 
 (6) that it should not be unknown to either person. 
 
ANALYSIS. Iv 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 As the motives of friendship are three, there will be three 
 kinds of friendship. Where the motive is utility or pleasure, the 
 friendship is not disinterested ; it is tlierefore accidental and easily 
 dissoluble. Friendships of utility are most common among the 
 old, friendships of pleasure among the young. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Perfect friendship or love is the friendship or love of people 
 who are good and alike in virtue. 
 
 (1) It implies 
 
 (a) goodness, both absolute and relative, in the two friends, 
 {b) pleasantness. 
 
 (2) It satisfies the conditions of permanency, 
 
 (3) it is rare, as such people are rare, and it takes time to 
 know them. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Friendships based upon pleasure or upon utility resemble the 
 perfect friendship, as the good are both pleasant and useful to one 
 another. But it is only the good who are friends for the friends' 
 own sake. It is only the good whose friendship cannot be destroyed 
 by calumnies. Other friendships than those of the good may be 
 said to be called friendships by analogy. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Bad people then may be friends from motives of pleasure or 
 utility ; good people are friends from love of the persons them- 
 selves. The characteristic element of friendship or love may be 
 either a moral state or an activity. Absence, e.g. does not 
 destroy friendship. Friendship generally implies community of 
 life ; hence it is difficult for old or austere people. 
 
 e2 
 
Ivi ANALYSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Affection ((^iXijirw) resembles an emotion {wados), friendship 
 (<l)i\ia.) resembles a moral state (eft:), for 
 
 (1) the love of friends involves moral piirpose 
 
 (2) the desire of a person's good for his own sake is the 
 issue of a moral state. 
 
 These conditions are best realized in the friendship of the 
 good. 
 
 Perfect friendship is impossible in relation to a great number 
 of peopla The friendship which is based upon pleasure more 
 nearly resembles perfect friendship than the friendship which 
 rests upon utility. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Friendships based, upon exchange of services are seldom per- 
 manent. Where friendship or love depends upon superiority, as 
 in the relation of a father to his children, the affection ought to 
 be proportionate to the superiority, i.e. the superior party ought 
 to receive more affection than he gives. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 In justice proportionate (to Km-' a^lav) equality is the first 
 consideration, quantitative (ro Kara rroa-ov) equality the second; 
 in friendship quantitative equality is the first consideration, and 
 proportionate equality the second. A vast superiority between 
 persons precludes friendship, as in the case of the Gods. 
 
 Ambition makes people wish to be loved rather than to love 
 others, as love is a form of honour. But honour is desired as a 
 sign of respect or admiration, love is desired for its own sake ; 
 hence it is better to be loved than to be honoured. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Friendship or love seems to consist rather in loving than in 
 being loved ; witness the love of mothers for their chiliiren. 
 
 A vicious friendship possesses no stability. A utilitarian 
 friendship lasts as long as the utility lasts, but not longer ; it is 
 generally a union of opposites, e.g. of a poor man and a rich man. 
 
ANALYSIS. Ivu 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Friendship and justice have the same occupations and the 
 same sphere, for friendship is a form of association, and every 
 association involves justice of some kind. As justice is of differ- 
 ent kinds, so is friendship. All associations may be said to be 
 parts of the political association ; hence friendship is a political 
 virtue. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 There are three kinds of polity, viz. 
 
 (1) Kingship (/SatrtXria). 
 
 (2) Aristocracy {apurroKparla). 
 
 (3) Timocracy (n/xoicpario), which depends upon a property 
 qualification. 
 
 There are three perversions or corruptions {wapeK^atreiij of 
 these polities, viz. 
 
 (1) tyranny (rvpawis) the perversion of kingship 
 
 (2) oligarchy {oKcyapxla} the perversioi< of aristocracy 
 
 (3) democracy (BjjpjiKparia) the perversion of timocracy. 
 
 It is possible to discover models of these constitutions in 
 households. The association of father and children takes the 
 form of kingship ; the association of master and slave takes the 
 form of tyranny ; the association of husband and wife takes the 
 form of aristocracy. "Where the husband is lord of everything, 
 it is an oligarchy. The association of brothers resembles timo- 
 cracy. A household in which everybody does as he chooses and 
 there is no government resembles a democracy. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 There is a friendship or love which is proper to each of these 
 several politic?. 
 
 The friendship or love of a king to his subjects takes the 
 form of superiority in benefaction; that of a father to his children 
 is similar to it. The friendship or love of husband and wife is 
 the same as exists in an aristocracy ; the friendship or love of 
 
Iviii ANALYSIS. 
 
 brothers is similar to that which is characteristic of a timocraoy. 
 In a tyranny friendship is practically non-existent ; the relation 
 of tyrant and subjects is like the relation of master and slaves. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Parents feel affection for their children as being a part of 
 themselves ; children feel affection for their parents as the source 
 of their being. The friendship or love of brothers is like that of 
 comrades (eralpoi) for each other, but it is intensified. Among 
 other kinsmen the elements of love are proportionate to the 
 nearness of the kinship. The love of husband and wife is a 
 natural law ; it derives strength from utility and pleasure, but 
 also from virtue. 
 
 Children are a bond of union between parents. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Quarrelling arises chiefly in such friendship as depends upon 
 utility. It seldom occurs in the friendship which depends upon 
 pleasure. The friendship which depends upon utility is either 
 moral {rjduaj) or legal {voiuktJ), i.e. is based either upon character 
 or upon stated conditions. Friendship upon stated conditions 
 implies a definite quid pro quo. Where the basis of friendship 
 is utility, the measure of the utility is the benefit done to the 
 recipient rather than the intention of the benefactor. In friend- 
 ships depending upon virtue there is no room for quarrelling. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Inequality in the position or character of friends affords 
 occasion for quarrelling. In such friendship the superior person 
 ought to receive a larger share of honour, the needy person a 
 larger share of profit. It is on this principle that honour is paid 
 to the great officers of state. In extreme cases, e.g. in the 
 relation of man to the Gods, an adequate repayment is impos- 
 sible. Hence the duty of a son to his father is greater than that 
 of a father to his son. 
 
ANALYSIS. lix 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HetebooIlKeous friendships (ai dvoiioieiSels (j>iKiai) are preserred 
 by the principle of proportion (to dvdkoyov). The friendship of 
 love is especially apt to be destroyed by the violation of that 
 principle. 
 
 Is the value of a benefaction to be settled by the author or by 
 the recipient of the benefaction 1 They may clearly set different 
 values upon it. It would seem that the recipient should settle 
 it, but should settle it with regard to his feelings before he 
 received it, not to his feelings when he has actually received 
 it. 
 
 CHAPTER II. • 
 
 Questions of casuistry relating to friendship, e.g. Is the 
 respect and obedience due to a father unlimited? Ought a 
 person to serve a friend in preference to a virtuous man 1 Ought 
 he to repay a debt to a benefactor rather than make a present to 
 a comrade ? 
 
 The general rule is that it is a duty to repay services in 
 preference to conferring favours, but the rule is open to excep- 
 tions. A father does not possess a claim to unlimited respect, 
 although his claim to the highest degree of respect is indis- 
 putable. It is an especial duty to afford parents the means of 
 living. But generally every person or class of persons to whom 
 we stand in relation is entitled to a particular respect, and we 
 must pay due respect to each. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Ought we to dissolve friendships with people whose character 
 is no longer what it once was 1 
 
 If the motive of the friendship was utility or pleasure, the 
 dissolution appears to be reasonable. If it was character, the 
 dissolution is inevitable, unless indeed it appears that the vice 
 
Ix ANALYSIS. 
 
 trhich dissolves the friendship may be cured. Any wide moral 
 discrepancy leads to dissolution of friendship ; but he who has 
 once been a friend cannot be altogether as a stranger. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The lore of friends is an expansion of self-love. The charac- 
 teristics of friendship are all found in the relation of the virtuous 
 man to himself They do not exist in the relation of a vicious 
 man to himself; for vice destroys the sympathy of parts and 
 unity of purpose which are indispensable to friendship or love. 
 
 CHAPTER ^. 
 
 Goodwill (eSwoia) .resembles friendship (i^iXia), but differs 
 from it, as goodwill may be directed towards people who are 
 unknown to us and who do not know that we wish them well. 
 Goodwill differs from aflfection {ij)iKrj<ris) for 
 
 (1) it does not imply the same intensity of feeling 
 
 (2) it may arise in a moment ; it does not demand famili- 
 arity. 
 
 Goodwill may be said to be the germ of friendship or to be 
 unproductive friendship, and to become friendship only by lapse 
 of time and by familiarity, although not such friendship as is 
 based on utility or pleasure ; for goodwill depends on virtue or 
 goodness. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Unanimity (o/idfoia) is a mark of friendship, unanimity not 
 being mere unity of opinion, which may exist among people who 
 do not know each other, but agreement in purpose and policy. 
 Unanimity is impossible except among the virtuous ; the vicious, 
 seeking each an advantage over the other, cannot be unanimous. 
 
ANALYSIS. Ixi 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Why is it that benefactors are better friends to the recipients 
 of their benefactions than the recipients to their benefactors 1 
 
 It is not merely that benefactors are like creditors, and 
 recipients Uke debtors. It is that all people feel affection for 
 their own work, and that benefactors stand towards the recipient 
 of their benefactions in the relation of an author or creator to his 
 work, and also that the benefactor feels his action to be noble, 
 that he enjoys the consciousness of activity, and that the fact of 
 taking trouble for a person or thing is itself a motive to affec- 
 tion. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Should a person love himself or somebody else most ? 
 
 Excessive self-love is generally censured. On the other hand 
 the conditions of friendship are best realized, as has been seen, 
 in the relation of a man to himself. The explanation' seems to 
 lie in the meaning of self-love. If a person is called a lover of 
 self, as assigning to himself an undue share of such things as 
 money and honour, he is open to censure. But if he is so called, 
 as feeling affection for the supreme part of his being, i.e. for his 
 reason, and as cultivating it to the utmost, he deserves praise. 
 In this sense a good man ought to be a lover of self; but his 
 self-love ought to be a spur to noble actions. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Does the happy man need friends ? 
 
 On the one hand it is said that, as being happy, he possesses 
 all good things ; therefore he has no need of friends ; on the other 
 hand, that if he possesses all good things, he must possess the 
 greatest of all external goods, viz. friends. Beneficence too, 
 which is the part of the good man, implies objects of beneficence, 
 and of such objects the best are his friends. Also, Man as a 
 social being must live in community with others and if so, must 
 live preferentially with friends and virtuous people. 
 
 The happy man does not need friends who may be useful to 
 
Ixii ANALYSIS. 
 
 him, but he needs friends towards whom he may exercise his 
 virtuous activity. Also human life is defined by the faculty of 
 sensation or thought, but a faculty is intelligible only by refer- 
 ence to its activity, and the exercise of the activity implies 
 persons towards whom it may be exercised, i.e. friends. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 What is the true limit to the number of a person's friends ? 
 
 The answer depends on the character of the friends. If 
 expediency is the motive of friendship, the number of friends 
 should not be larger than is sufiicient for one's own life ; if the 
 motive is pleasure, the number should not be large, as a few 
 friends are enough to sweeten life. There is not_ the same 
 limitation in the case of virtuous friends, but a limitation is 
 made by the impossibility of standing in a relation of true friend- 
 ship to an unlimited number of people. It would seem that the 
 limit of such friendships will be found to be the highest number 
 of persons with whom one can live a common life. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Friendships are valuable both in prosperity and in adversity. 
 They are nobler in prosperity, but more necessary in adversity. 
 It is a duty to be forward in inviting friends to share one's good 
 fortune, but slow in inviting them to share one's ill fortune. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The essence of friendship or love is association {Koa/avla); 
 hence community of life is essential to friendship or love. But 
 this community of life, while it elevates the friendship of the 
 good, deteriorates and degrades the friendship of the wicked. 
 
ANALYSIS. Ixiii 
 
 BOOK X. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Impoetance of discnssing pleasure (liSoi/^), as the formation of 
 virtuous character depends largely upon a rightly directed sense 
 of pleasure and dislike. 
 
 Some people hold that pleasure is the good, i.e. the supreme 
 good, others that it is something utterly bad. The latter view is 
 inconsistent with human experience. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It was the view of Eudoxus that pleasure is the good be- 
 cause 
 
 (1) aU things, whether rational or irrational, aim at plea- 
 sure. 
 
 (2) pleasure is an end in itself 
 
 (3) the addition of pleasure to any good renders that good 
 more desirable. 
 
 Pleasure may be a good, yet not the highest good. It may 
 be a good although 
 
 (a) it is not a quality (n-otoT-ijs), 
 
 (6) it possesses the element of indefiniteness (rd aopurrov). 
 
 It is not a process of motion (Kt'wjo-ts) or production {yiveins), 
 as it is not characterized by quickness and slowness. It is not a 
 satisfaction of the natural state of man's being, although the 
 process of satisfaction may be attended vrith pleasure. It is the 
 pleasures of eating and drinking which have given rise to the 
 theory that pleasure is a process of satisfaction; but other 
 pleasures, e.g. the pleasures of mathematics, have no antecedent 
 pain. There are immoral, as well as moral pleasures, but they do 
 not prove pleasure to be a bad thing, as they are not pleasant 
 
Ixiv ANALYSIS. 
 
 except to people who are in a bad condition. The truth seems 
 to be this : Pleasure is not the good, nor are all pleasures desir- 
 able, but only such pleasures as are not immoral in their origin. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Nature or Character of Pleasure. 
 
 Pleasure, like sight, is perfect at any time; it is not made 
 more perfect by increased duration of time. Hence pleasure is 
 not a motion, as every motion takes a certain time. Pleasure 
 is a whole, it is not diTisible into parts ; it is therefore not a 
 motion or process of production. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Every sense exercises its activity upon its own object and the 
 perfection of the activity implies 
 
 (1) that the sense should be in itself in a sound condition 
 
 (2) that the object should be the noblest that falls within 
 its domain. 
 
 When this is the case, the activity is not only most perfect, 
 but most pleasant. 
 
 Every sense has its proper pleasure. Pleasure perfects the 
 activity not as something inherent in it, but as something super- 
 added to it. 
 
 The impossibility of feeling pleasure continuously arises from 
 the incapacity of human nature for continuous activity. Pleasure, 
 as perfecting the activities, perfects life. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Pleasures are of different kinds, e.g. the pleasures of the 
 intellect and the different pleasures of the senses. Pleasure 
 increases activity, but the pleasures of one activity may be 
 impediments to the exercise of another. Alien pleasures have 
 much the same effect upon a particular activity as pains. As 
 
ANALYSIS. Ixv 
 
 activities differ in goodness and badness, so do pleasures. Not 
 only are the pleasures of beings who are different in kind them- 
 selves different, but different beings of the same kind have 
 different pleasures ; thus what is pleasant to one man is un- 
 pleasant to another. It is the pleasures of the virtuous man 
 which are true pleasures. The pleasures belonging to the acti- 
 vity or activities of the perfect man are perfect pleasures. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Happiness, as has been said, is not a moral state (t^ts) but an 
 activity (ew'pyeia). It is also an activity desirable in itself. 
 Happiness does not consist in amusement or in relaxation but in 
 virtuous activity. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Happiness is therefore the activity of the highest part of 
 Man's nature. It is a speculative rather than practical activity, 
 for 
 
 (1) it is the activity of the intuitive reason (vovs), which is 
 the highest human faculty 
 
 (2) it is the most continuous form of activity 
 
 (3) it is the most pleasant form of activity 
 
 (4) it possesses in a preeminent degree the -character of 
 self-sufficiency (avTapKeta). 
 
 Leisure is essential to happiness. 
 
 The activity of the intuitive reason is the highest, as it does 
 not aim at any end beyond itself It possesses its proper pleasure, 
 and this pleasure enhances the activity. This then is the perfect 
 happiness of man, if a perfect or complete length of life is given 
 it. The reason being divine in comparison with the rest of man's 
 nature, the life which accords with reason will be divine in 
 comparison with human life in general A man's reason, as being 
 the supreme part of his nature, may be called his true self 
 
Ixvi ANALYSIS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Non-speculative virtue is happy only in a secondary sense. 
 The moral virtues are inseparably allied to the emotions and so 
 to the physical organization of human nature. But the happiness 
 vrhieh consists in the exercise of the reason is independent of the 
 emotions. It needs external resources, but does not need them 
 to the same extent as moral virtue. Virtue implies both moral 
 purpose and moral performance. Perfect happiness is a species 
 of speculative activity, as appears from the conception of the 
 Gods, who are ex hypothesi preeminently happy, and vrhose 
 happiness displays itself in activity, but who cannot be supposed 
 to perform moral actions. The lower animals, being incapable of 
 speculative activity, are incapable of happiness. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Man requires external prosperity, but only so much prosperity 
 as is requisite for virtue. Excessive prosperity is rather pre- 
 judicial than helpful to happiness. It is activity directed by 
 reason which constitutes the best title to the favour of Heaven. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It is not the knowledge but the practice of virtue which is 
 the end of ethical study. Mere theory is impotent to make men 
 good. It has been held that men are made good 
 
 (1) by nature {<j>va-ei) 
 
 (2) by habit (?56t) 
 
 (3) by teaching (SiSaxff)- 
 
 Virtue presupposes a certain suitability of character ; but the 
 character needs education under virtuous laws. It needs also 
 the habitual practice of what is right in after-life. Hence the 
 importance of education and of the rewards and punishments 
 appointed by law. It is only in Sparta and a few other states 
 that education or the discipline of the character has been under- 
 
ANALYSIS. Ixvii 
 
 stood to fall within the province of legialation. In education 
 individual methods are superior to general, as it demands the 
 study of individual character. But this individual study must 
 itself be based upon an understanding of principles. The prin- 
 ciples of legislation are taught not by statesmen but by sophists, 
 but the sophists are ignorant of the true nature of statesmanship. 
 It is necessary therefore to investigate legislation and for that 
 purpose to collect and compare political constitutions, to consider 
 their merits and defects, and to determine the means by which 
 they are preserved or destroyed. Thus Ethics leads up to 
 Politics. 
 
THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 
 
 OF ARISTOTLE. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 Every art and every scientific inquiry, and similarly Chap. i. 
 
 every action and purpose, may be said to aim at some S*'™®^* 
 
 good. Hence the good has been well defined as that 
 
 at which all things aim. But it is clear that there is 
 
 a difference in the ends ; for the ends are sometimes Difference 
 
 activities, and sometimes results beyond the mere ™*''®^"^^ 
 
 activities. Also, where there are certain ends beyond 
 
 the actions, the results are naturally superior to the 
 
 activities. 
 
 As there are various actions, arts, and sciences, it Snbor- 
 foUows that the ends are also various. Thus health arts and " 
 is the end of medicine, a vessel of shipbuilding, victory sciences. 
 of strategy, and wealth of domestic economy. It 
 often happens that there are a number of such arts 
 or sciences which fall under a single faculty, as the 
 art of making bridles, and all such other arts as make 
 
 W. N. E. «P 1 
 
2 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK I. 
 
 the instruments of horsemanship, under horsemanship, 
 and this again as well as every military action under 
 strategy, and in the same way other arts or sciences 
 under other faculties. But in all these cases the ends 
 of the architectonic arts or sciences, whatever they 
 may be, are more desirable than those of the subordi- 
 nate arts or sciences, as it is for the sake of the 
 former that the latter are themselves sought after. 
 It makes no difference to the argument whether the 
 activities themselves are the ends of the actions, or 
 something else beyond the activities as in the above 
 mentioned sciences. 
 
 If it is true that in the sphere of action there is 
 an end which we wish for its own sake, and for the 
 sake of which we wish everything else, and that we 
 do not desire all things for the sake of something 
 else (for, if that is so, the process will go on ad 
 infinitvjm, and our desire will be idle and futile) it is 
 clear that this will be the good or the supreme good. 
 Import- Does it not follow then that the knowledge of this 
 
 9iTic6 or 
 
 knowing Supreme good is of great importance for the conduct 
 preine of life, and that, if we hnow it, we shall be like 
 good. archers who have a mark at which to aim, we shall 
 have a better chance of attaining what we want? 
 But, if this is the case, we must endeavour to compre- 
 hend, at least in outline, its nature, and the science 
 or faculty to which it belongs. 
 Science or It would Seem that this is the most authoritative 
 the"su^°* or architectonic science or faculty, and such is evi- 
 good'^ dently the political ; for it is the political science or 
 Ethics a faculty which determines what sciences are necessary 
 of PouSos * ill states, and what kind of sciences should be learnt, 
 
CHAP. I.J OF ARISTOTLE. 3 
 
 and how far they should be ]eamt by particular 
 people. We perceive too that the faculties which are 
 held in the highest esteem, e.g. strategy, domestic 
 economy, and rhetoric, are subordinate to it. But 
 as it makes use of the other practical sciences, and 
 also legislates upon the things to be done and the 
 things to be left undone, it follows that its end will 
 comprehend the ends of all the other sciences, and 
 wiU therefore be the true good of mankind. For 
 although the good of an individual is identical with the 
 good of a state, yet the good of the state, whether in 
 attainment or in preservation, is evidently greater 
 and more perfect. For while in an individual by 
 himself it is something to be thankful for, it is nobler 
 and more divine in a nation or state. 
 
 These then are the objects at which the present 
 inquiry aims, and it is in a sense a political' inquiry. 
 But our statement of the case will be adequate, if it Ethics not 
 be made with all such clearness as the subject-matter science. 
 admits ; for it would be as wrong to expect the same 
 degree of accuracy in all reasonings as in all manu- 
 factures. Things noble and just, which are the 
 subjects of investigation in political science, exhibit 
 so great a diversity and uncertainty that they are 
 sometimes thought to have only a conventional, and 
 not a natural, existence. There is the same sort of 
 uncertainty in regard to good things, as it often 
 happens that injuries result from them ; thus there 
 have been cases in which people were ruined by 
 
 1 It is characteristic of Aristotle's philosophy to treat Ethics 
 as a branch or department of Politics. 
 
 1—2 
 
4 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK J. 
 
 wealth, or again by courage. As our subjects then 
 and our premisses are of this nature, we must be 
 content to indicate the truth roughly and in outline ; 
 and as our subjects and premisses are true generally 
 hut not universally, we must be content to arrive at 
 conclusions which are only generally true. It is right 
 to receive the particular statements which are made 
 in the same spirit ; for an educated person will 
 expect accuracy in each subject only so far as the 
 nature of the subject allows ; he might as well 
 accept probable reasoning from a mathematician as 
 require demonstrative proofs from a rhetorician. 
 But everybody is competent to judge the subjects 
 which he understands, and is a good judge of them. 
 It follows that in particular subjects it is a person 
 of special education, and in general a person of 
 Theyotmg universal education, who is a good judge. Hence the 
 fled to be young^ are not proper students of political science, 
 Ses'^ °* as they have no experience of the actions of life 
 which form the premisses and s ubjects of the reaso n- 
 jj^s^ Also it may be added~that from their tendency 
 to follow their emotions they will not study the 
 subject to any purpose or profit, as its end is not 
 knowledge but action. It makes no difference 
 whether a person is young in years or youthful in 
 character ; for the defect of which I speak is not one 
 of time but is due to the emotional character of his 
 
 1 This is belipved to be the passage which Shakespeare had in 
 mind, though the reference to it is put in Hector's mouth, 
 "young men, whom Aristotle thought 
 Unfit to hear moral philosophy." 
 
 Troilus and Cresrida, Act iL Scene 2, 
 
CHAP. II.] OP ARISTOTLE. 5 
 
 life and pursuits. Knowledge is as useless to such 
 a person a? it is to an intemperate person. But 
 where the desires and actions of people are regulated 
 by reason the knowledge of these subjects will be 
 extremely valuable. 
 
 But having said so much by way of preface as to chap. ii. 
 the students of political science, the spirit in which it 
 should be studied, and the object which we set before 
 ourselves, let us resume our argument as follows : 
 
 As every knowledge and moral purpose aspires to 
 some good, what is in our view the good at which the 
 political science aims, and what is the highest of all The end of 
 practical goods ? As to its name there is, I may say, science. 
 a general agreement. The masses and the cultured 
 classes agree in calling it happiness, and conceive Happiness. 
 that "to live well" or "to do well" is the same thing 
 as " to be happy." But as to the nature of happiness Nature of 
 they do not agree, nor do the masses give the same *pp™*^^' 
 account of it as the philosophers. The former define 
 it as something visible and palpable, e.g. pleasure, 
 wealth, or honour ; different people give different 
 definitions of it, and often the same person gives 
 different definitions at different times ; for when a 
 person has been ill, it is health, when he is poor, it is 
 wealth, and, if he is conscious of his own ignorance, 
 he envies people who use grand language above his 
 own comprehension. Some philosophers^ on the other 
 hand have held that, besides these various goods, 
 there is an absolute good which is "the cause of 
 goodness in them all. It would perhaps be a waste , 
 of time to examine all these opinions, it will be 
 ,' Aristotle is thinking of the Platonic " ideas." 
 
6 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK I. 
 
 enough to examine such as are most popular or as 
 seem to be more or less reasonable. 
 Deductive But we must not fail to observe the distinction 
 ive reason- between the reasonings which proceed from first 
 p^dpies. principles and the reasonings which lead up to first 
 principles. For Plato* was right in raising the 
 diflHcult question whether the true way was from first 
 principles or to first principles, as in the race-course 
 from the judges to the goal, or vice versa. We must 
 begin then with such facts as are known. But facts 
 may be known in two ways, i.e. either relatively to 
 ourselves or absolutely. It is probable then that we 
 must begin with such facts as are known to us, i.e. 
 relatively. It is necessary therefore, if a person is 
 to be a competent student of what is noble and just 
 and of politics in general, that he should have re- 
 ceived a good moral training. For the fact that a 
 thing is so is a first principle or starting-point^, 
 and, if the fact is suflSciently clear, it will not be 
 necessary to go on to ask the reason of it. But a 
 person who has received a good moral training either 
 possesses first principles, or will have no difficulty 
 in acquiring them. But if he does not possess them, 
 and cannot acquire them, he had better lay to heart 
 Hesiod's lines' : 
 
 ^ The reference is probably not to any special passage in 
 the dialogues of Plato, but to the general drift or scope of the 
 Socratic dialectics. 
 
 2 Aristotle's reasoning depends in part on the double meaning 
 of dpxv viz. (1) starting-point or beginning, (2) iirst principle or 
 axiomatic truth. 
 
 3 "Epya Kat "H;iepai 291—296. 
 
CHAP. III.] OF ARISTOTLE. 7. 
 
 " Far best is he who is himself all-wise, 
 And he, too, good who listens to wise words ; 
 But whoso is not wise nor lays to heart 
 Another's wisdom is a useless man." 
 
 But to return from our digression : It seems not Chap. iix. 
 unreasonable that peoplelshould derive their concep- ^o^gg™' 
 tion of the good or of happiness from men's lives, tions of 
 Thus ordinary or vulgar people conceive it to be 
 pleasure, and accordingly approve a life of enjoyment. 
 For there are practically three prominent lives, the 
 sensual, the politicaJ, and, thirdly, the speculative. 
 Now the mass of men present an absolutely slavish 
 appearance, as choosing the life of brute beasts, but they 
 meet with consideration because so many persons in 
 authority share the tastes of Sardanapalus ^ Cultivated 
 and practical people, on the other hand, identify 
 happiness with honour, as honour is the general end 
 of political life. But this appears too superficial for 
 our present purpose ; for honour seems to depend 
 more upon the people who pay it than upon the 
 person to whom it is paid, and we have an intuitive 
 feeling that the good is something which is proper to 
 a man himself and cannot easily be taken away from 
 him. It seems too that the reason why men seek 
 honour is that they may be confident of their own 
 goodness. Accordingly they seek it at the hands of 
 the wise and of those who know them well, and they 
 seek it on the ground of virtue ; hence it is clear that 
 in their judgment at any rate virtue is superior to 
 honour. It would perhaps be right then to look 
 upon virtue rather than honour as being the end of 
 1 The most luxurious, and the last, Assyrian monarch. 
 
8 THE NIOOMACHEAN ETHICS [boOK I. 
 
 the political life. Yet virtue again, it appears, lacks 
 completeness ; for it seems that a man may possess 
 virtue and yet be asleep or inactive throughout life, 
 and, not only so but he may experience the greatest 
 calamities and misfortunes. But nobody would call 
 such a life a life of happiness, unless he were main- 
 taining a paradox. It is not necessary to dwell 
 further on this subject, as it is sufficiently discussed 
 in the popular philosophical treatises'. The third 
 life is the speculative which we will investigate 
 hereafter^ 
 
 The life of money-making is in a sense a life of 
 constraint, and it is clear that wealth is not the 
 good of which we are in quest ; for it is useful in 
 part as a means to something else. It would be a 
 more reasonable view therefore that the things men- 
 tioned before, viz. sensiial pleasure, honour and 
 virtiie, are ends than that wealth is, as they are 
 things which are desired on their own account. Yet 
 these too are apparently not ends, although much 
 argument has been employed' to show that they are. 
 Chap. IV. "We may now dismiss this subject ; but it will 
 universal perhaps be best to consider the imiversal good, and 
 good. to discuss the meaning in which the phrase is used, 
 
 1 The "popular philosophical treatises'' ra eyKVKKia (jjiKoa-o- 
 (pijfiaTa as they are called ircpi ovpavov i. ch, 9, p. 279 A30 
 represent, as I suppose, the discussions and conclusions of 
 thinkers outside the Aristotelian school and are in fact the 
 same as the d^wTcpiKol \6yoi, 
 
 ' The investigation of the speculative life occurs in Book x. 
 
 3 The usage of Aristotle is in favour of taking KaTa^i^Xrjvrai 
 to mean "has been employed" rather than "has been wasted"; 
 see especially wtpi Koo-^iov ch. 6, p. 397 Bjj. 
 
CHAP. IV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 9 
 
 although there is this diflBculty in such an enquiry, 
 that the doctrine of ideas has been introduced by Doctrine of 
 our friends'. Yet it will perhaps seem the best, and ' **'" 
 indeed the right course, at least when the truth is at 
 stake, to go so far as to sacrifice what is near and 
 dear to us, especially as we are philosophers. For 
 friends and truth are both dear to us, but it is a 
 sacred duty to prefer the truth. 
 
 Now the authors of this theory did not make ideas 
 of things in which they predicated priority and 
 posteriority. Hence they did not constitute an idea 
 of numbers. But good is predicated equally ofNonni- 
 substance, quality and relation, and the absolute or ol^good? 
 essential, i.e. substance, is in its nature prior to the 
 relative, as relativity is like an ofishoot or accident 
 of existence ; hence there cannot be an idea which is 
 common to them both. Again, there are as many 
 ways of predicating good as of predicating existence ; 
 for it is predicated of substance as e.g. of God or the 
 mind, or of quality as of the virtues, or of quantity 
 as of the mean, or of relativity as of the usefiil, or of 
 time as of opportunity, or of place as of a habitation, 
 and so on. It is clear then that it cannot be a 
 common universal idea or a unity ; otherwise it 
 would not be predicated in all the categories'' but 
 only in one. Thirdly, as there is a single science of 
 all such things as fall under a single idea, there 
 would have been a single science of all good things, if 
 the idea of "good" were single ; but in fact there are 
 many sciences even of such good things as fall under 
 
 1 In reference, of course, to Plato. 
 
 2 For the " categories ", see Kan/yopiat ch. 4. 
 
10 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK I. 
 
 a single category, strategy, e.g. being the science 
 of opportunity in war, and medicine the science of 
 opportunity in disease, medicine again being the 
 science of the niean in respect of food, and gymnastic 
 the science of the mean in respect of exercise. It 
 would be difficult, too, to say what is meant by the 
 " absolute" in anything, if in " absolute man" and in 
 "man" there is one and the same conception of man. 
 For there will be no difference between them in 
 respect of manhood, and, if so, neither will there be 
 any difference between "absolute good" and "good" 
 in respect of goodness. Nor again will good be 
 more good if it is eternal, since a white thing which 
 lasts for a long time is not whiter than that which 
 lasts for a single day. There seems to be more 
 plausibility in the doctrine of the Pythagoreans' 
 who place unity in the catalogue of goods, and 
 Speusippus* apparently agrees with them. How- 
 ever these are questions which may be deferred 
 to another occasion ; but there is an objection to my 
 arguments which suggests itself, viz. that the Platonic 
 theory does not apply to every good, that the things 
 which in themselves are sought after and welcomed 
 are reckoned as one species and the things which 
 tend to produce or in any sense preserve these or to 
 prevent their opposites are reckoned as goods in a 
 secondary sense as being means to these. It is clear 
 
 • 
 
 ' The point is that it is apparently more reasonable to describe 
 unity as a good than to describe good as a unity. The Pytha- 
 goreans, or some of them, drew up catalogues of opposites 
 (o-utrroix'a')) ^.s Aristotle explains Metaph. i. ch. 5. 
 
 2 Plato's nephew and successor in the Academy. 
 
CHAP. IV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 11 
 
 then that there will be two kinds of goods, some Two kmcis 
 
 being absolute goods, and others secondary. Let us ikeaf and ' 
 
 then separate goods which are merely serviceable ^^le''"' 
 
 from absolute goods and consider if they are conceived 
 
 as falling under a single idea. But what kind of 
 
 things is it that may be defined as absolute goods ? 
 
 Will it be all such as are sought after independently 
 
 of their consequences, e.g. wisdom, sight, and certain 
 
 pleasures and honours? For granting that we seek 
 
 after these sometimes as means to something else, 
 
 still we may define them as absolute goods. Or is 
 
 none of these things an absolute good, nor anything 
 
 else except the idea? But then the type or idea 
 
 will be purposeless, i.e. it will -not comprise any 
 
 particulars. If, on the other hand, these things too 
 
 are absolute goods, the conception of the good will 
 
 necessarily appear the same in them all, as the 
 
 conception of whiteness appears the same in snow 
 
 and in white lead. But the conception of honour, 
 
 wisdom and pleasure, are distinct and different in 
 
 respect of goodness. " Good" then is not a common 
 
 term falling under one idea. But in what sense is 
 
 the term used? For it does not seem to be an 
 
 accidental homonymy'. Is it because all goods issue 
 
 from one source or all tend to one end ; or is it 
 
 rather a case of analogy ? for as the sight is to the 
 
 body, so is the mind to the soul, i.e. the mind may Tie 
 
 called the eye of the soul, and so on. But it will 
 
 1 "What is meant by an "accidental homonymy" or equivo- 
 cation is easily seen in the various senses of a single English word 
 such as bulL 
 
12 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK I. 
 
 perhaps be well to leave this subject for the present, 
 as an exact discussion of it would belong rather to a 
 diflFerent branch of philosophy. But the same is true 
 of the idea ; for even if there is some one good which 
 is predicated of all these things, or some abstract and 
 absolute good, it will plainly not be such as a man 
 finds practicable and attainable, and therefore will 
 not be such a good as we are in search of. It 
 will possibly be held, however, that it is worth while 
 to apprehend this universal good, as having a relation 
 to the goods which are attainable and practicable ; 
 for if we have this as a model, we shall be better able 
 to know the things which are good relatively to 
 ourselves, and, knowing them, to acquire them. Now 
 although there is a certain plausibility in this theory, 
 it seems not to harmonize with scientific experience ; 
 for while all sciences aim at a certain good and seek 
 to supply a deficiency, they omit the knowledge of 
 the universal good. Yet it is not reasonable to 
 suppose that what would be so extremely helpful is 
 ignored, and not sought at all by artists generally. 
 But it is difiicult to see what benefit a cobbler or 
 carpenter will get in reference to his art by knowing 
 the absolute good, or how the contemplation of the 
 absolute idea will make a person a better physician or 
 general. For it appears that a physician does not 
 regard health abstractedly, but regards the health of 
 man or rather perhaps of a particular man, as he 
 gives his medicine to individuals. 
 Chap.v. But leaving this subject for the present let us 
 
 Nature of j.xj.i i/.i.i . 
 
 theprac- revcrt to the good ot which we are in quest and 
 good!* consider what its nature may be. For it is clearly 
 
CHAP, v.] OF AKISTOTLE. 13 
 
 diflFerent in different actions or arts ; it is one thing 
 in medicine, another in strategy, and so on. What 
 then is the good in each of these instances ? It is 
 presumably that for the sake of which all else is done. 
 This in medicine is health, in strategy, victory, in 
 domestic architectxire, a house, and so on. But in 
 every action and purpose it is the end, as it is for the 
 sake of the end that people all do everything else. If 
 then there is a certain end of all action, it will be 
 this which is the practicable good, and if there are 
 several such ends it wiU be these. 
 
 Our argument has arrived by a different path at 
 the same conclusion as before ; but we must endea- 
 vour to elucidate it still further. As it appears that 
 there are more ends than one and some of these, e.g. 
 wealth, flutes, and instruments generally we desire 
 as means to something else, it is evident that they 
 are not all final ends. But the highest good is clearly 
 something final Hence if there is only one final end. Final good. 
 this will be the object of which we are in search, and 
 if there are more than one, it will be the most final of 
 them. We speak of that which is sought after for 
 its own sake as more final than that which is sought 
 after as a means to something else ; we speak of that 
 which is never desired as a means to something else 
 as more final than the things which are desired both 
 in themselves and as means to something else ; and 
 we speak of a thing as absolutely final, if it is always 
 desired in itself and never as a means to something 
 else. 
 
 It seems that happiness preeminently answers to Happiness 
 
14 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [BOOK I. 
 
 the final this description, as we always desire happiness for its 
 ^°° ' own sake and never as a means to something else, 
 whereas we desire honour, pleasure, intellect, and 
 every virtue, partly for their own sakes (for we 
 should desire them independently of what might 
 result from them) but partly also as being means to 
 happiness, because we suppose they will prove the 
 instruments of happiness. Happiness, on the other 
 hand, nobody desires for the sake of these things, nor 
 indeed as a means to anything else at all. 
 
 We come to the same conclusion if we start from 
 the consideration of self-sufficiency, if it may be 
 assumed that the final good is self-sufficient. But 
 when we speak of self-sufficiency, we do not mean 
 that a person leads a solitary life all by himself, but 
 that he has parents, children, wife, and friends, and 
 fellow-citizens in general, as man is naturally a social 
 being. But here it is necessary to prescribe some 
 limit ; for if the circle be extended so as to include 
 parents, descendants, and friends' friends, it will go 
 on indefinitely. Leaving this point, however, for 
 future investigation, we define the self-sufficient as 
 that which, taken by itself, makes life desirable, and 
 wholly free from want, and this is our conception of 
 happiness. 
 
 Again, we conceive happiness to be the most 
 desirable of all things, and that not merely as one 
 among other good things. If it were one among 
 other good things, the addition of the smallest good 
 would increase its desirableness ; for the accession 
 makes a superiority of goods, and the greater of 
 
CHAP. VI. J OF ARISTOTLE. 15 
 
 two goods is always the more desirable. It appears 
 then that happiness is something final and self- 
 sufficient, being the end of all action. 
 
 Perhaps, however, it seems a truth which is Chap. vi. 
 generally admitted, that happiness is the supreme 
 good ; what is wanted is to define its nature a little Nature of 
 more clearly. The best way of arriving at such a'^^^^*"^'^- 
 definition will probably be to ascertain the function 
 of Man. For, as with a flute-player, a statuary, or 
 any artisan, or in fact anybody who has a definite 
 function and action, his goodness, or excellence seems 
 to lie in his function, so it would seem to be with 
 Man, if indeed he has a definite function. Can it be 
 said then that, while a carpenter and a cobbler have 
 definite functions and actions, Man, unlike them, 
 is naturally functionless ? The reasonable view is 
 that, as the eye, the hand, the foot, and similarly each 
 several part of the body has a definite function, so 
 Man may be regarded as having a definite function 
 apart from all these. What then, can this function 
 be ? It is not life ; for life is apparently something 
 which man shares with the plants ; and it is some- 
 thing peculiar to him that we are looking for. We 
 must exclude therefore the life of nutrition and 
 increase. There is next what may be called the life 
 of sensation. But this too, is apparently shared by 
 Man with horses, cattle, and aU other animals. There 
 remains what I may call the practical life of the 
 rational part of Man's being. But the rational part 
 is twofold ; it is rational partly in the sense of being 
 obedient to reason, and partly in the sense of possess- 
 ing reason and intelligence. The practical life too 
 
16 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS fBOOK I. 
 
 \'>^'^ may be conceived of in two ways', viz., either as a 
 
 moral state, or as a moral activity: but we must 
 understand by it the life of activity, as this seems to 
 be the truer form of the conception. 
 
 ^"notion The function of Man then is an activity of soul 
 
 in accordance with reason, or not independently of 
 reason. Again the functions of a person of a certain 
 kind, and of such a person who is good of his kind 
 e.g. of a harpist and a good harpist, are in our view 
 generically the same, and this view is true of people 
 of all kinds without exception, the superior excellence 
 being only an addition to the function ; for it is the 
 function of a harpist to play the harp, and of a good 
 harpist to play the harp well. This being so, if we 
 define the function of Man as a kind of life, and this 
 life as an activity of soul, or a course of action in 
 conformity with reason, if the function of a good man 
 is such activity or action of a good and noble kind, 
 and if everything is successfully performed when it is 
 performed in accordance with its proper excellence, 
 
 Definition it foUows that the good of Man is an activity of soul 
 
 of Man °° in accordance with virtue or, if there are more virtues 
 than one, in accordance with the best and most 
 complete virtue. But it is necessary to add the 
 words "in a complete life.'' For as one swallow or 
 one day does not make a spring, so one day or a 
 short time does not make a fortunate or happy man. 
 
 Chap. VII. This may be taken as a sufficiently accurate sketch 
 of the good; for it is right, I think, to draw the 
 
 ' In other words life may be taken to mean either the mere 
 possession of certain faculties or their active exercise. 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 17 
 
 outlines first and afterwards to fill in the details. It 
 would seem that anybody can carry on and complete 
 what has been sati^actorily sketched in outline, 
 and that time is a good inventor or cooperator in 
 so doing. This is the way in which the arts have 
 made their advances, as anybody can supply a 
 deficiency. 
 
 But bearing in mind what has been already said. Degree of 
 we must not look for the same degree of accuracy in attainable 
 all subjects; we must be content in each class of™ '^' 
 subjects with accuracy of such a kind as the subject- 
 matter allows, and to such an extent as is proper to 
 the inquiry. For while a carpenter and a geometri- 
 cian both want to find a right angle, they do not want 
 to find it in the same sense ; the one wants only such 
 an approximation to it as will serve his practical pur- 
 pose, the other, as being concerned with truth, wants 
 to know its nature or character. We must follow 
 the same course in other subjects, or we shall sacrifice 
 the main points to such as are subordinate. Again, 
 we must not insist with equal emphasis in all sub- 
 jects upon ascertaining the reason of things. We 
 must sometimes e.g. in dealing with first principles 
 be content with the proper evidence of a fact ; the 
 fact itself is a first point or principle! But there are 
 various ways of discovering first principles ; some 
 are discovered by induction, others hy perception, 
 others by what maybe called habituation, and so on. 
 We must try to apprehend them all in the natural or 
 appropriate way, and must take pains to define them 
 satisfactorily, as they have a vital influence upon all 
 that follows from them. For it seems that the first 
 w. N. E. 2 
 
18 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK I. 
 
 principle or beginning is more than half the whole, 
 and is the means of arriving at a clear conception of 
 many points which are under investigation. 
 
 CHAP.vni. In considering the first principle we must pay 
 regard not only to the conclusion and the premisses 
 of our argument, but also to such views as are 
 popularly held about it. For while all experience 
 harmonizes with the truth, it is never long before 
 truth clashes with falsehood. 
 
 ciassifica- Goods havc been divided into three classes, viz. 
 
 goods! external goods as they are called, goods of the soul 
 and goods of the body. Of these three classes we 
 consider the goods of the soul to be goods in the 
 strictest or most literal sense. But it is to the soul 
 that we ascribe psychicaP actions and activities. 
 Thus our definition is a good one, at least according 
 to this theory, which is not only ancient but is 
 accepted by students of philosophy at the present 
 time. It is right too, inasmuch as certain actions and 
 activities are said to be the end ; for thus it appears 
 that the end is some good of the soul and not an 
 external good. It is in harmony with this definition 
 that the happy man should live well and do well, as 
 
 p. 5. happiness, it has been said, is in fact a kind of living 
 
 and doing well. ' 
 
 Chap. IX. It appears too that the requisite characteristics of 
 happiness are all contained in the definition ; for some 
 people hold that happiness is virtue, others that it is 
 
 1 In allusion to the adage apxv ^jutmi iravros, in which however 
 apxr) means " beginning." 
 
 2 It is a pity that the English language does not possess a 
 word which stands to "soul" in the relation of i/fux"«>s to V'«X'7- 
 
CHAP. IX.] OF AHISTOTLE. 19 
 
 prudence', others that it is wisdom of some kind, Concep- 
 others that it is these things or one of them conjoined happiness. 
 with pleasure or not dissociated from pleasm-e, others 
 again include external prosperity. Some of these 
 views are held by many ancient thinkers, others by a 
 few thinkers of high repute. It is probable that 
 neither side is altogether wrong, but that in some 
 one point; if not in most points, they are both right. 
 
 Now the definition is in harmony with the view of Happiness 
 those who hold that happiness is virtue or excellence preme 
 of some sort ; for activity in accordance Avith virtue ^°°* 
 implies vii-tue. But it would seem that there is a 
 considerable diflFerence between taking the supreme 
 good to consist in acquisition or in use, in a moral 
 state or in an activity. For a moral state, although 
 it exists, may produce nothing good, e.g. if a person 
 is asleep, or has in any other way become inactive. 
 But this cannot be the case with an activity, as 
 activity implies action and good action. As in the 
 Olympian games it is not the most beautiful and 
 strongest persons who receive the crown but they 
 who actually enter the lists as combatants — for it is 
 some of these who become victors — so it is they 
 who act rightly that attain to what is noble and good 
 in life. Again, their life is pleasant in itself. For 
 pleasure is a psychical fact, and whatever a man is said 
 to be fond of is pleasant to him, e.g. a horse to one 
 who is fond of horses, a spectacle to one who is fond 
 
 ^ The difference between <f>p6vT]a-is " prudence " or " practical 
 wisdom" and <ro<f>ia "speculative" or "theoretical wisdom'' is 
 commonly assumed by Aristotle. 
 
 2—2 
 
20 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK I. 
 
 of spectacles, and similarly just actions to a lover of 
 justice, and virtuous actions in general io a lover of 
 virtue. Now most men find a sense of discord in 
 their pleasures, because their pleasures are not such 
 as are naturally pleasant. But to the lovers of 
 nobleness natural pleasures are pleasant. It is actions 
 in accordance with virtue that are naturally pleasant. 
 Such actions then are pleasant both relatively to 
 these persons and in themselves. JN'or does their life 
 meed that pleasure should be attached to it as a sort 
 of amulet ; it possesses pleasure in itself. For it may 
 be added that a person is not good, if he does not 
 take delight in noble actions, as nobody would call a 
 person just if he did not take delight in just actions, 
 or liberal if he did not take delight in liberal aetiojiB, 
 and so on. But if this is so, it follows that actions m 
 accordance with virtue are pleasant in themselves. 
 But they are also good and noble, and good and 
 noble in the highest degree, if the judgment of the 
 virtuous man upon them is right, his judgment being 
 such as we have described. Happiness then is the 
 best and noblest and pleasantest thing in the world, 
 nor is there any such distinction between goodness, 
 nobleness, and pleasure as the epigram at Delos 
 suggests: 
 
 " Justice is nablest, Health is best, 
 To gain one?s end is pleasantest." 
 
 iFor these are all essential characteristics of the 
 
 best activities, and we hold that happiness consists in 
 
 these or in one and the noblest of these. StiU it is 
 
 clear that happiness requires the addition of external 
 
 p. 19. goods, as we said ; for it is impossible, or at least 
 
CHAP. X.] OF ARISTOTLE. 21 
 
 diflBcult for a person to do what is noble unless he is 
 famished with, external means. For there are many 
 things which can only be done through the instru- 
 mentality of friends or wealth or political power, and 
 there are some things the lack of which must mar 
 felicity, e.g. noble birth, a prosperous fiimily, and 
 personal beauty. For a person is incapable of happi- 
 ness if he is absolutely ugly in appearance, or low 
 born, or solitary and childless, and perhaps still more 
 so, if he has exceedingly bad children or friends, or 
 has had good children or friends and has lost them 
 by death. As we said, then, it seems that prosperity 
 of this kind is an indispensable addition to virtue. It 
 is for this reason that some persons identify good 
 fortune, and others virtue, with happiness. 
 
 The question is consequently raised whether hap- Chap. x. 
 piness is something that can be learnt or acquired by ^™ ^l^^^' 
 habit or discipline of any other kind, or whether it leamt or 
 comes by some divine dispensation or even by chance. 
 
 Now if there is anything in the world that is a Happiness 
 gift of the Gods to men, it is reasonable to suppose the Gods, 
 that happiness is a divine gift, especially as it is the 
 best of human things. This however is perhaps a 
 point which is more appropriate to another investigar 
 tion than the present. But even if happiness is not 
 sent by the Gods but is the result of virtue and of 
 learning or discipline of some kind, it is apparently 
 one of the most divine things in the world ; for it 
 would appear that that which is the prize and end of 
 virtue is the supreme good and is in its nature divine 
 and Messed. It will also be widely extended ,- for it 
 will be capable of being produced in all persons. 
 
22 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK I. 
 
 except such as are morally deformed, by a process 
 of study or care. And if it is better that happiness 
 should be produced in this way than by chance, it 
 may reasonably be supposed that it is so produced, 
 as the order of things is the best possible in Nature 
 and so too in art, and in causation generally, and 
 most of all in the highest kind of causation. But 
 it would be altogether inconsistent to leave what is 
 greatest and noblest to chance. But the definition oj 
 happiness itself helps to clear up the question ; for 
 happiness has been defined as a certain kind of activity 
 of the soul in accordance with virtue. Of the other 
 goods, i.e. of goods besides those of the soul, some 
 are necessary as antecedent conditions of happiness, 
 others are in their nature co-operative and service- 
 able as instruments of happiness. 
 
 The conclusion at which we have arrived agrees 
 
 with our original position. For we laid it down that 
 
 the end of political science is the supreme good ; and 
 
 Object of political science is concerned Avith nothing so much 
 
 science, as with producing a certain character in the citizens, 
 
 or in other words with making them good, and 
 
 Animals, capable of performing noble actions. It is reasonable 
 
 young, then not to speak of an ox, or a horse, or any other 
 
 oThappi* animal as happy ; for none of them is capable of 
 
 ness. participating in activity as so defined. For the same 
 
 reason no child can be happy, as the age of a child 
 
 makes it impossible for him to display this activity at 
 
 present, and if a child is ever said to be happy, the 
 
 ground of the felicitation is his promise, rather than 
 
 his actual performamce. For happiness demands, as 
 
 p. 16. we said, a complete virtue and a complete life. For 
 
CHAP. XI.] OF ARISTOTLE. 23 
 
 there are all sorts of changes and chances in life, and 
 it is possible that the most prosperous of men will, in 
 his old age, fall into extreme calamities as is told of 
 Priam in the heroic legends. But if a person has 
 experienced such chances, and has died a miserable 
 death, nobody calls him happy. 
 
 Is it the case then that nobody in the world may Chap. xi. 
 be called happy so long as he is alive ? Must we fe/s^ be 
 adopt Solon's^ rule of looking to the end ? and, if we ^^ . 
 follow Solon, can it be said that a man is really happy Ws ufe- 
 after his death ? Surely such a view is wholly absurd, ""*" 
 especially for us who define happiness as a species of 
 activity. But if we do not speak of one who is dead 
 as happy, and if Solon's meaning is not this but 
 rather that it is only when a man is dead that it is safe 
 to call him fortunate as being exempt at last from 
 evils and calamities, this again is a view which is 
 open to some objection. For it seems that one who 
 is dead is capable of being affected both by good and 
 by evil in the same way as one who is living but 
 unconscious, e.g. by honours and dishonours and by 
 the successes or reverses of his children and his de- 
 scendants generally. But here again a difficulty 
 occurs. For if a person has lived a fortunate life up 
 to old age, and has died a fortunate death, it is 
 possible that he may experience many vicissitudes of 
 fortune in the persons of his descendants. Some of 
 them may be good and may enjoy such a life as they 
 deserve ; others may be bad and may have a bad life. 
 
 ^ Herodotus i. ch. 32 is the authority for the celebrated 
 warning which Solon is said to have addressed to Croesus. 
 
24 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK I. 
 
 It is clear, too, that descendants may stand in all 
 sorts of different degrees of relationship to thehr 
 ancestor. It would be an extraordinary result, if the 
 dead man were to share the vicissitudes of their 
 fortune and to become happy at one time and miser- 
 able at another, as they became either happy or 
 miserable. But it would be equally extraordinary, 
 if the future of descendants should not affect their 
 parents at all or for a certain time. It will be best, 
 however, to revert to the difficulty which was raised 
 before, as it will perhaps afford an answer to the 
 present question. If it is right to look to the end, 
 and when the end comes to felicitate a person not as 
 being fortunate but as having been so before, surely 
 it is an extraordinary thing that at the time when he 
 is happy we should not speak the truth about him, 
 because we do not wish to call the living happy in 
 view of the vicissitudes to which they are liable and 
 because we have formed a conception of happiness as 
 something that is permanent and exempt from the 
 possibility of change and because the same persons 
 are liable to many revolutions of fortune. For it is 
 clear that, if we follow the changes of fortune, we 
 shall often call the same person happy at one time, 
 and miserable at another, representing the happy 
 man as " a* sort of chameleon without any stability of 
 position," It cannot be right to follow the changes of 
 fortune. It is not upon these that good or evil 
 depends ; they are necessary accessories of human 
 p. 20. life, as we said ; but it is a man's activities in accord- 
 
 ^ Apparently an Iambic line. 
 
CHAP. XI.j OF ARISTOTLE. 25 
 
 ance with virtae that constitute his happiness and 
 the opposite activities that constitute his misery. 
 The difficulty which has now been discussed is itself 
 a witness that this is the true view. For there is no 
 human function so constant as the activities in ac- Constancy 
 cordance with virtue ; they seem to be more perma- virtnous 
 nent than the sciences themselves. Among these *''**"''*^' 
 activities, too, it is the most hcHiourable which are the 
 most permanent, as it is in them that the life of the 
 fortunate chiefly and most continuously consists. For 
 this is apparently the reason why such activities are 
 not liable to be forgotten'. 
 
 The element of permanency which is required will 
 be found in the happy man, and he will preserve his 
 character throughout life ; for he will constantly or 
 in a preeminent degree pursue such actions and 
 speculations as accord with virtue ; nor is there any- 
 body who will bear the chances of life so nobly, with 
 such a perfect and complete harmony, as he who is 
 truly good and "foursquare without a flaw'." Now 
 
 1 Aristotle means that it is comparatively easy to forget 
 scientific truths, when they have once been learnt, but it is 
 difficult, if not impossible, to lose the habit of virtuous activity. 
 In other words, he means that knowledge is less stable, and 
 therefore less valuable, than character. 
 
 ' The phrase "foursquare without a flaw" is taken from 
 Simonides, as Plato says in his Protagoras p. 339, b, where the 
 passage in which the phrase occurs is quoted at length. Cp. 
 Rhetoric m. ch. 11 p. 1411 'R^. In a similar, but not identical 
 sense a modem poet speaks of the great Duke of Wellington as 
 
 "that tower of strength 
 Which stood foursquare to all the winds that blew." 
 
26 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK I. 
 
 the events of chance are numerous and of diflPerent 
 magnitudes. It is clear then that small incidents of 
 good fortune, or the reverse, do not turn the scale of 
 life, but that such incidents as are great and nume- 
 rous augment the felicity of Ufe, if they are fortunate, 
 as they tend naturally to embellish it and the use of 
 them is noble and virtuous, and on the other hand, if 
 they are of a contrary character, mar and mutilate its 
 felicity by causing pains and hindrances to various 
 activities. Still even in these circumstances nobility 
 shines out, when a person bears the weight of accu- 
 mulated misfortunes with calmness, not from insensi- 
 bility but from innate dignity and magnanimity. 
 The happy But if it is the activities which determine the 
 capable of life, as wc Said, nobody who is fortunate can become 
 ™^7' miserable ; for he will never do what is hateful and 
 mean. For our conception of the truly good and 
 sensible man is that he bears all the chances of life 
 with decorum and always does what is noblest in the 
 circumstances, as a good general uses the forces at 
 his command to the best advantage in war, a good 
 cobbler makes the best shoe with the leather that is 
 given him, and so on through the whole series of the arts. 
 If this is so, it follows that the happy man can never 
 become miserable; I do not say that he will be 
 fortunate, if he meets such chances of life as Priam. 
 Yet he will not be variable or liable to frequent 
 change, as he will not be moved from his happi- 
 ness easily or by ordinary misfortunes but only by 
 such misfortunes as are great and numerous ; and 
 after them it will not be soon that he will regain his 
 happiness, but, if he regains it at all, it will be only in 
 
CHAP. XI.] OF ARISTOTLE. 27 
 
 a long and complete period of time and after attain- 
 ing in it to great and noble results. 
 
 We may safely then define a happy man as one Definition 
 whose activity accords with perfect virtue and who is nesa.^^' 
 adequately furnished with external goods, not for a 
 casual period of time but for a complete or perfect 
 lifetime. But perhaps we ought to add, tliat he wiU 
 always live so, and wiU die as he lives ; for it is not 
 given us to foresee the future, but we take happiness 
 to be an end, and to be altogether perfect and 
 complete, and, this being so, we shall call people 
 fortunate during their lifetime, if they possess and 
 wiU possess these characteristics, but fortunate only 
 so far as men may be fortunate. 
 
 But to leave the discussion of this subject : The The 
 idea that the fortunes of one's descendants and oftheSing* 
 one's friends generally have no influence at all upon thg^^ead"^ 
 oneself seems exceedingly harsh, and contrary to 
 received opinions. But as the events of life are 
 numerous and present all sorts of difierences, and 
 some are of more concern to us than others, it would 
 be clearly a long, if not an infinite task, to define 
 them individually; we must, I think, be content to 
 describe them generally and in outline. Now, as in 
 personal misfortunes some have a certain weight and 
 influence upon our life, and others, it seems, are 
 comparatively light, so it is with such misfortunes as 
 affect our friends generally. But as the difference 
 between the experiences of the living or the dead is 
 far greater than the difference between terrible crimes 
 when enacted upon the stage in tragedies and the 
 same crimes when merely assumed to have already 
 
28 THE inCOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK I. 
 
 occurred, it is necessary" to take account of this 
 difference also, and still more perhaps of the serious 
 doubt which has been raised as to the participation 
 of the dead in any good or evil. For it is probable in 
 this view that if anything, whether good or evil, 
 reaches the dead at all, it is feeble and insignificant, 
 either absolutely, or in relation to them, or if not, is 
 of such a magnitude and character as to be incapable 
 of making people happy if they are not happy or of 
 depriving them of their felicity, if they are. 
 
 It would seem then that the dead are affected or 
 
 influenced in some way by the prosperity and the 
 
 adversity of their iriends, but that the influence is of 
 
 such a kind and degree as not to make people happy, 
 
 if they are not happy, nor to have any similar effect. 
 
 Chap. xh. Having determined these points, let us consider 
 
 ness"'^"' whether happiness belongs rather to such things as 
 
 object of are objects of praise or to such things as are obiects 
 
 praise or of . . , , 
 
 honour? of honour. Jcor it IS clearly not a mere potential 
 good. 
 
 It appears that whatever is an object of praise is 
 praised as possessing a certain character, and standing 
 in a certain relation to something. For we praise 
 one who is just and manly and good in any way,, or 
 we praise virtue, because of their actions and pro- 
 ductions. We praise one who is strong and swift and 
 so on, as naturally possessing a certain character and 
 standing in a certain relation to something that is 
 itself good and estiinable. The truth of this statement 
 becomes clear, if we take the case of praises bestowed 
 upon the Gods. Such praise appears ridiculous as 
 implying a reference to ourselves, and there must be 
 
CHAP. XII.J OF AUISTOTLE. 29 
 
 such a reference, because, as we said, praise invariaMy 
 implies a reference to a higher standard. But if this 
 is the nature of praise, it is clear that it is not praise 
 but something greater and better which is a,x^opriate 
 to all that is best, as indeed is evident ; for we speak of 
 the Gods as "blessed" and "happy" rather than as 
 "praiseworthy" and we speak of the most godlike 
 men as "blessed." It is the same with goods ; for 
 nobody praises happiness as he praises justice, but he 
 calls it blessed, as being in its nature better and 
 more divine. It is sometimes held on these grounds 
 that Eudoxus' was right in advocating the supremacy 
 of pleasure ; for the fact that pleasure is a good and 
 yet is not praised, indicates, as he thought, that it is 
 higher than the objects of praise, as God and the 
 good are higher, these being the standards to which 
 everything else is referred. For praises* are appro- 
 priate to virtue, as it is virtue which makes us capable 
 of noble deeds ; but panegyrics to accomplished re- 
 sults, whether they be results of the body or of the 
 souL But it may be said that an exact discussion 
 of these points belongs more properly to the special 
 study of panegyrics. We see clearly, however, from 
 what has been said, that happiness is something 
 
 ^ A pupil of Plato, whose personal character is favourably 
 noticed by Aristotle in Book x. ch. 2. He was an astronomer as 
 well as a philosopher. 
 
 2 The distinction between the e|is of virtue as deserving 
 praise (ormwos) and the tpyov as deserving panegyric {iyiwiuov) 
 which is drawn out in the Rhetoric Book m. ch 9 is introduced 
 a little awkwardly here, where the point is that virtue, as being a 
 subject of praise, was in the Budoxian view inferior to pleasure. 
 
30 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS ,[bOOK I. 
 
 honourable and final. And that it is so seems to 
 
 follow also from the fact that it is a first principle ; 
 
 for it is for the sake of happiness that we all do 
 
 everything else, and the first principle or the cause of 
 
 all that is good we regard as something honourable 
 
 and divine. 
 
 CHAP.xni. Inasmuch as happiness is an activity of soul in 
 
 J^^'Jgj^gjjj accordance with complete or perfect virtue, it is 
 
 ofhappi- necessary to consider virtue, as this will perhaps be 
 
 the best way of studying happiness. 
 
 It appears that virtue is the object upon which 
 the true statesman has expended the largest amount 
 of trouble, as it is his wish to make the citizens 
 virtuous and obedient to the laws. We have instances 
 of such statesmen in the legislators of Crete and 
 Lacedaemon and such other legislators as have re- 
 sembled them. But if this inquiry is proper to 
 political science, it will clearly accord with our original 
 purpose to pursue it. But it is clear that it is human 
 virtue which we have to consider ; for the good of 
 p. 16. which we are in search is, as we said, human good, 
 and the happiness, human happiness. By human 
 virtue or excellence we mean not that of the body, 
 but that of the soul, and by happiness we mean an 
 activity of the soul. 
 Import- If this is so, it is clearly necessary for statesmen 
 
 psyohoiogy to have some knowledge of the nature of the soul in 
 statolman. ^^^ ^^^ '^^J ^ ^* i® uecessary for one who is to 
 treat the eye or any part of the body, to have some 
 knowledge of it, and all the more as political science 
 is better and more honourable than medical science. 
 Clever doctors take a great deal of trouble to under- 
 
CHAP. XIII.] OF AMSTOTLE. 31 
 
 stand the body, and similarly the statesman must 
 make a study of the soul. But he must study it with 
 a view to his particular object and so far only as his 
 object requires ; for to elaborate the study of it 
 further would, I think, be to aggravate undidy the 
 labour of our present undertaking. 
 
 There are some facts concerning the soul which 
 are adequately stated in the popular or exoterical 
 discourses, and these we may rightly adopt. It is Analysis of 
 stated e.g. that the soul has two parts, one irrational 
 and the other possessing reason. But whether these 
 parts are distinguished like the parts of the body and 
 like everything that is itself divisible, or whether 
 they are theoretically distinct, but in fact inseparable, 
 as convex and concave in the circumference of a 
 circle, is of no importance to the present inquiry. 
 
 Again, it seems that of the irrational part of the 
 soul one part is common, i.e. shared by man with all 
 living things, and vegetative ; I mean the part which 
 is the cause of nutrition and increase. For we may 
 assume such a faculty of the soul to exist in all things 
 that receive nutrition, even in embryos, and the same 
 faculty to exist in things that are full grown, as it is 
 more reasonable to suppose that it is the same 
 faculty than that it is different. It is clear then that 
 the virtue or excellence of this faculty is not distinc- 
 tively human but is shared by man with aU living 
 things ; for it seems that this part and this faculty 
 are especially active in sleep, whereas good and bad 
 people are never so little distinguishable as in sleep — 
 whence the saying that there is no difference between 
 the happy and the misei-able during half their life- 
 
32 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK I. 
 
 time. And this is only natural ; for sleep is an 
 inactivity of the soul in respect of its virtue or vice, 
 except in so far as certain impulses affect it to a slight 
 extent, and make the visions of the virtuous better 
 than those of ordinary people. But enough has been 
 said on this point, and we must now leave the 
 principle of nutrition, as it possesses no natural share 
 in human virtue. 
 
 It seems that there is another natural principle 
 of the soul which is irrational and yet in a sense 
 partakes of reason. For in a continent or incontinent 
 person we praise the reason, and that part of the 
 soul which possesses reason, as it exhorts men rightly 
 and exhorts them to the best conduct. But it is 
 clear that there is in them another principle which is 
 naturally different from reason and fights and contends 
 against reason. For just as the paralysed parts of 
 the body, when we iatend to move them to the right, 
 are drawn away in a contrary direction to the left, 
 so it is with the soul ; the impulses of incontinent 
 people run counter to reason. But there is this 
 difference, however, that while in the body we see the 
 part which is drawn astray, in the soul we do not see 
 it. But it is probaibly right to suppose with equal 
 certainty that there is in the soul too something 
 different from reason, which opposes and thwarts it, 
 although the sense in which it is distinct from reason 
 is immaterial. But it appears that this part too par- 
 takes of reason, as we said ; at all events in a con- 
 tinent person it obeys reason, while in a temperate or 
 courageous person it is probably still more obedient, 
 as being absolutely harmonious with reason. 
 
CHAP. XIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 33 
 
 It appears then that the irrational part of the soul 
 is itself twofold ; for the vegetative faculty does not 
 participate at all in reason, but the fikculty of desire 
 or general concupiscence participates in it more or 
 less, in so far as it is submissive and obedient to 
 reason. But it is obedient in the sense in which we 
 speak of "paying attention to a father" or "to 
 Mends," but not in the sense in which we speak of 
 "paying attention to mathematics." All correction, 
 rebuke and exhortation is a witness that the irra- 
 tional part of the soul is in a sense subject to the 
 influence of reason. But if we are to say that this 
 part 'too possesses reason, then the part which 
 possesses reason will have two divisions, one possess- 
 ing reason absolutely and in itself, the other listening 
 to it as a child listens to its father. 
 
 Virtue or excellence again, admits of a distinction 
 which depends on this diflerence. For we speak of 
 some virtues as intellectual and of others as moral, inteUectnai 
 wisdom, intelligence and prudence, being intellectual, ^tiJ^"^*^ 
 liberality and temperance being moral, virtues. For 
 when we describe a person's character, we do not say 
 that he is wise or intelligent but that he is gentle 
 or temperate. Yet we praise a wise man too in 
 respect of his mental state, and such mental states 
 as deserve to be praised we call virtuous. 
 
 W. ST. E. 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 Chap. I. ViKTUB OF excellence being twofold, partly intellec- 
 tual and partly moral, intellectual virtue is both 
 originated and fostered mainly by teaching; it 
 Genesis therefore demands experience and time. Moral* 
 viiS'e™' virtue on the other hand is the outcome of habit, and 
 accordingly its name {■^diKtj dpert]) is derived by a 
 slight deflexion from habit (e6o^)\ From this fact 
 it is clear that no moral virtue is implanted in us 
 by nature; a law of nature cannot be altered by 
 habituation. Thus a stone naturally tends to fall 
 downwards, and it cannot be habituated or trained 
 to rise upwards, even if we were to habituate it by 
 throwing it upwards ten thousand times ; nor again 
 can fire be trained to sink downwards, nor anything 
 else that follows one natural law be habituated or 
 trained to follow another. It is neither by nature 
 then nor in defiance of nature that virtues are im- 
 
 1 The student of Aristotle must familiarize himself with the 
 conception of intellectual as well as of moral virtues, although it 
 is not the rule in modem philosophy to speak of the " virtues " of 
 the intellect. 
 
 ' The approximation of Wos (habit) and ^5or (character) cannot 
 be represented in English. 
 
CHAP. I.] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. 35 
 
 planted in us. Nature gives us the capacity of re- 
 ceiving them, and that capacity is perfected by habit. 
 
 Again, if we take the various natural powers which 
 belong to us, we first acquire the proper faculties 
 and afterwards display the activities. It is clearly so 
 with the senses. It was not by seeing frequently 
 or hearing frequently that we acquired the senses 
 of seeing or hearing ; on the contrary it was because 
 we possessed the senses that we made use of them, 
 not by making use of them that we obtained them. 
 But the virtues we acquire by first exercising them, 
 as is the case with all the arts, for it is by doing what 
 we ought to do when we have learnt the arts that 
 we learn the arts themselves ; we become e.g. builders 
 by building and harpists by playing the harp. Simi- 
 larly it is by doing just acts that we become just, by 
 doing temperate acts that Ave become temperate, by 
 doing courageous acts that we become courageous. 
 The experience of states is a witness to this truth, for 
 it is by training the habits that legislators make the 
 citizens good. This is the object which all legislators 
 have at heart ; if a legislator does not succeed in it, 
 he fails of his purpose, and it constitutes the distinc- 
 tion between a good polity and a bad one. 
 
 Again, the causes and means by which any virtue 
 is produced and by which it is destroyed are the 
 same ; and it is equally so with any art ; for it is by 
 playing the harp that both good and bad harpists are 
 produced and the case of builders and all other 
 a/rtisans is similar, as it is by building well that they 
 will be good builders and by building badly that they 
 win be bad builders. If it were not so, there would 
 
 3—2 
 
36 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 be no need of anybody to teach them ; they would all 
 be born good or bad in their several trades. The 
 case of the virtues is the same. It is by acting in 
 such transactions as take place between man and man 
 that we become either just or unjust. It is by acting 
 in the face of danger and by habituating ourselves to 
 fear or courage that we become either cowardly or 
 courageous. It is much the same with our desires 
 and angry passions. Some people become temperate 
 and gentle, others become licentious and passionate, 
 according as they conduct themselves in one way 
 or another way in particular circumstances. In a 
 word moral states are the residts of activities corre- 
 sponding to the moral states themselves. It is our 
 duty therefore to give a certain character to the 
 activities, as the moral states depend upon the 
 differences of the activities. Accordingly the differ- 
 ence between one training of the habits and another 
 from early days is not a light matter, but is serious or 
 rather all-important. 
 Chap. n. Our present study is not, like other studies', 
 inducing purely speculative, in its intention; for the object of 
 to virtue, our enquiry is not to know the nature of virtue but 
 to become ourselves virtuous, as that is the sole 
 benefit which it conveys. It is necessary therefore to 
 consider the right way of performing actions, for it is 
 p. 35. actions as we have said that determine the character 
 of the resulting moral states. 
 
 That we should act in accordance with right 
 
 I i.e. such studies as generally occupied the attention of the 
 Aristotelian school. 
 
CHAP, II.J OF ARISTOTLE. 37 
 
 reason is a common general principle, ■which may here 
 be taken for granted. The nature of right reason, 
 and its relation to the virtues generally, will be 
 subjects of discussion hereafter. But it must be 
 admitted at the outset that all reasoning upon practi- 
 cal matters must be like a sketch in outline, it cannot 
 be scientifically exact. We began by laying down the Scientific 
 principle that the kind of reasoning demanded in any impossible. 
 subject must be such as the subject-matter itself 
 allows ; and questions of practice and expediency no 
 more admit of invariable rules than questions of 
 health. 
 
 But if this is true of general reasoning m^otc 
 Ethics, still more true is it that scientific exactitude is 
 impossible in reasoning upon particular ethical cases. 
 They do not fall umder any art or any law, but the 
 agents themselves are always bound to pay regard to 
 the circumstances of the moment as much as in 
 medicine or navigation. 
 
 Still, although such is the nature of the present 
 argument, we must try to make the best of it. 
 
 The first point to be observed then is that in such 
 matters as we are considering deficiency and excess Deficiency 
 are equally fatal. It is so, as we observe, in regard both?aTaL 
 to health and strength ; for we must judge of what 
 we cannot see by the evidence of what we do see. 
 Excess or deficiency of gymnastic exercise is fatal to 
 strength. Similarly an excess or deficiency of meat 
 and drink is fatal to health, whereas a suitable 
 amount produces, augments and sustains it. It is the 
 same then with temperance, courage, and the other 
 virtues. A person who avoids and is afi:aid of every- 
 
38 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 thing and faces nothing becomes a coward ; a person 
 who is not afraid of anything but is ready to face 
 everything becomes foolhardy. Similarly he who 
 enjoys every pleasure and never abstains from any 
 pleasure is licentious ; he who eschews all pleasures 
 like a boor is an insensible sort of person. For 
 temperance and courage are destroyed by excess and 
 deficiency but preserved by the mean state. 
 
 Again, not only are the causes and the agencies of 
 production, increase and destruction in the moral 
 states the same, but the sphere of their activity will 
 be proved to be the same also. It is so in other 
 instances which are more conspicuous, e.g. in strength ; 
 for strength is produced by taking a great deal of 
 food and undergoing a great deal of labour, and it 
 is the strong man who is able to take most food and 
 to undergo most labour. The same is the case with 
 the virtues. It is by abstinence from pleasures that 
 we become temperate, and, when we have become 
 temperate, we are best able to abstain from them. 
 So too with courage; it is by habituating ourselves 
 to despise and face alarms that we become coura- 
 geous, and, when we have become courageous, we 
 shall be best able to face them. 
 
 The pleasure or pain which follows upon actions 
 may be regarded as a test of a person's moral state. 
 He who abstains from physical pleasures and feels 
 delight in so doing is temperate ; but he who feels 
 pain at so doing is hcei3!te»8L^IIe who faces dangers 
 with pleasure, or at least withompiin, is courageous ; 
 Virtue in but he who feels pain at facir^them is a coward. 
 
 relation to _ i • ^ t -, . , '^""^^a. 
 
 pleasures *or moral Virtue is concerned with pleasures and 
 
 and pains. 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 39 
 
 pains. It is pleasure which makes us do what is 
 base, and pain which makes us abstain from doing 
 what is noble. Hence the importance of having had 
 a certain training from very early days, as Plato' says, 
 such a training as produces pleasure and pain at the 
 right objects ; for this is the true education. 
 
 Again, if the virtues are concerned with actions 
 and emotions, and every action and every emotion is 
 attended by pleasure and pain, this will be another 
 reason why virtue should be concerned with pleasures 
 and pains. There is also a proof of this fact in the 
 use of pleasure and pain as means of punishment ; 
 for pimishments are in a sense remedial measures, 
 and the means employed as remedies are naturally 
 the opposites of the diseases to which they are applied, p- 35. 
 Again, as we said before, every moral state of the 
 soul is in its nature relative to, and concerned with, 
 the thing by which it is naturally made better or 
 worse. But it is pleasures and pains which produce 
 vicious moral states, if we pursue and avoid such 
 pleasures and pains as are wrong, or pursue and 
 avoid them at the wrong time or in the wrong manner, 
 or in any other of the various ways in which it is 
 logically possible to do wrong. Hence it is that 
 people^ actually define the virtues as certain apathe- 
 tic or quiescent states ; but they are wrong in using 
 this absolute language, and not qualifying it by the 
 addition of the right or wrong manner, time and 
 so on. 
 
 It may be assumed then that moral virtue tends 
 
 ^ Laws II. p. 653 A — c. 
 ' As e.g. the Cyiiics. 
 
40 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 to produce the best action in respect of pleasures and 
 pains, and that vice is its opposite. But there is 
 another way in which we may see the same truth. 
 There are three things which influence us to desire 
 them, viz. the noble', the expedient, and the pleasant; 
 and three opposite things which influence us to eschew 
 them, viz. the shameful, the injurious, and the painful. 
 The good man then will be likely to take a right line, 
 and the bad man to take a wrong one, in respect of 
 all these, but especially in respect of pleasure ; for 
 pleasure is felt not by Man only but by the lower 
 animals, and is associated with all things that are 
 matters of desire, as the noble and the expedient 
 alike appear pleasant. Pleasure too is fostered in us 
 all from early childhood, so that it is difficult to get 
 rid of the emotion of pleasure, as it is deeply ingrain- 
 ed in our life. Again, we make pleasure and pain in 
 a greater or less degree the standard of our actions. 
 It is inevitable therefore that our present study 
 should be concerned from first to last with pleasures 
 and pains ; for right or wrong feelings of pleasure 
 or pain have a material influence upon actions. 
 Again, it is more difiicult to contend against pleasure 
 than against anger, as Heraclitus' says, and it is not 
 what is easy but what is comparatively difficult that 
 
 1 It must be remembered that to koKSv and to alaxpov may 
 mean "the beautiful" and "the ugly" as well aa "the noble'' and 
 the "shameful," but it is the moral meaning which preponderates 
 here. 
 
 2 The saying of Heraclitus, as given in Eudem. Eth. XL 7, p. 
 1223 B23, is simply ^^aXeirov Bvy,^ iidxetrBat' i/fux^s yap ave'irai, the 
 last words meaning that a person will gratify his anger even at 
 the risk of his life. 
 
CHAP, in.] OF ARISTOTLE. 41 
 
 is in all cases the sphere of art or Tirtue, as the value 
 of success is proportionate to the diflSculty. This 
 then is another reason why moral virtue and political 
 science should be exclusively occupied with pleasures 
 and pains ; for to make a good use of pleasures and 
 pains is to be a good man, and to make a bad use 
 of them is to be a bad man. 
 
 We may regard it then as established that virtue 
 is concerned with pleasures and pains, that the causes 
 which produce it are also the means by which it is 
 augmented, or, if they assume a different character, 
 is destroyed, and that the sphere of its activity is the 
 things which were themselves the causes of its 
 production. 
 
 But it may be asked what we mean by saying that Chap. m. 
 people must become just by doing what is just and ^°™^f*"' 
 temperate by doing what ia temperate. For if they virtues ana 
 do what is just and temperate, they are ipso facto 
 proved, it will be said, to be just and temperate in 
 the same way as, if they practise grammar and music, 
 they are proved to be grammarians and musicians. 
 
 But is not the answer that the case of the arts 
 is not the same? For a person may do something 
 that is grammatical either by chance or at the sug- 
 gestion of somebody else ; hence he will not be a 
 grammarian unless he not only does what is gram- 
 matical but does it in a grammatical manner, i.e. 
 in virtue of the grammatical knowledge which he 
 possesses. 
 
 There is another point too of difference between 
 the arts and the virtues. The productions of art 
 have their excellence in themselves. It is enough 
 
42 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 therefore that, -when they are produced, they should 
 be of a certain character. But actions in accordance 
 with virtue are not e.g. justly or temperately per- 
 formed because they are in themselves just or 
 temperate. It is necessary that the agent at the 
 time of performing them should satisfy certain 
 conditions, i.e. in the first place that he should know 
 what he is doing, secondly that he should deliberately 
 choose to do it and to do it for its own sake, and 
 thirdly that he should do it as an instance of a settled 
 and immutable moral state. If it be a question 
 whether a person possesses any art, these conditions, 
 except indeed the condition of knowledge, are not 
 taken into account ; but if it be a question of 
 possessing the virtues, the mere knowledge is of little 
 or no avail, and it is the other conditions, which are 
 the results of frequently performing just and tempe- 
 rate actions, that are not of slight but of absolute 
 importance. Accordingly deeds are said to be just 
 and temperate, when they are such as a just or 
 temperate person would do, and a just and temperate 
 person is not merely one who does these deeds but 
 one who does them in the spirit of the just and the 
 temperate. 
 
 It may fairly be said then that a just man becomes 
 just by doing what is just and a temperate man 
 becomes temperate by doing what is temperate, and 
 if a man did not so act, he would not have so much as 
 a chance of becoming good. But most people, instead 
 of doing such actions, take refuge in theorizing; they 
 imagine that they are philosophers and that philo- 
 sophy will make them virtuous ; in fact they behave 
 
CHAP. IV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 43 
 
 like people who listen attentively to their doctors but 
 never do anything that their doctors tell them. But 
 it is as improbable that a healthy state of the soul 
 will be produced by this kind of philosophizing as 
 that a healthy state of the body will be produced by 
 this kind of medical treatment. 
 
 We have next to consider the nature of virtue. Chap. rv. 
 
 Now, as the qualities of the soul are three, viz. ^emoy°n 
 emotions, faculties and moral states, it follows that nor* 
 virtue must be one of the three. By the emotions a moral 
 I mean desire, anger, fear, courage, envy, joy, love, ^^^' 
 hatred, regret, emulation, pity, in a word whatever is 
 attended by pleasure or pain. I call those faculties 
 in respect of which we are said to be capable of 
 experiencing these emotions, e.g. capable of getting 
 angry or being pained or feeling pity. And I call 
 those moral states in respect of which we are well or 
 ill disposed towards the emotions, ill-disposed e.g. 
 towards the passion of anger, if our anger be too 
 violent or too feeble, and well-disposed, if it be duly 
 moderated, and similarly towards the other emotions. 
 
 'Now neither the virtues nor the vices are emotions ; 
 for we are not called good or evil in respect of our 
 emotions but in respect of our virtues or vices. 
 Again, we are not praised or blamed in respect of 
 our emotions ; a person is not praised for being afraid 
 or being angry, nor blamed for being angry in an 
 absolute sense, but only for being angry in a certain 
 way ; but we are praised or blamed in respect of our 
 virtues or vices. Again, whereas we are angry or 
 afraid without deliberate purpose, the virtues are in 
 some sense deliberate purposes, or do not exist in the 
 
44 THE NICOMACHEAN" ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 absence of deliberate purpose. It may be added 
 that while we are said to be moved in respect of our 
 emotions, in respect of our virtues or vices we are not 
 said to be moved but to have a certain disposition. 
 
 These reasons also prove that the virtues are not 
 faculties. For we are not called either good or bad, 
 nor are we praised or blamed, as having an abstract 
 capacity for emotion. Also while Nature gives us 
 our faculties, it is not Nature that makes us good or 
 
 p. 35. bad, but this is a point which we have already 
 discussed. If then the virtues are neither emotions 
 nor faculties, it remains that they must be moral 
 states. 
 
 Chap. V. The nature of virtue has been now generically 
 
 v^tue not (Jescribed. But it is not enough to state merely that 
 
 moral state virtue IS a moral state, we must also describe the 
 
 ctdar moral character of that moral state. 
 
 ^*°''^' It must be laid down then that every virtue or 
 
 excellence has the effect of producing a good con- 
 dition of that of which it is a virtue or excellence, and 
 of enabling it to perform its function well. Thus the 
 excellence of the eye makes the eye good and its 
 function good, as it is by the excellence of the eye 
 that we see well. Similarly, the excellence of the 
 horse makes a horse excellent and good at racing, 
 at carrying its rider and at facing the enemy. 
 
 If then this is universally true, the virtue or 
 excellence of man will be such a moral state as makes 
 a man good and able to perform his proper function 
 
 p. 16. well. We have already explained how this will be 
 the case, but another way of making it clear will be 
 to study the nature or character of this virtue. 
 
CHAP, v.] OF AE.ISTOTLE. 45 
 
 Now in everything, whether it be continuous or Doctrine of 
 discrete', it is possible to take a greater, a smaller, or * ™^*"' 
 an equal amount,, and this either absolutely or in 
 relation to ourselves, the equal being a mean between 
 excess and deficiency. By the mean in respect of the 
 thing itself, or the absolute mean, I understand that 
 which is equally distinct from both extremes ; and 
 this is one and the same thing for everybody. By the 
 mean considered relatively to ourselves I understand 
 that which is neither too much nor too little ; but 
 this is not one thing, nor is it the same for everybody. 
 Thus if 10 be too much and 2 too little we take 6 as a 
 mesm in respect of the thing itself ; for 6 is as much 
 greater than 2 as it is less than 10, and this is a mean 
 in arithmetical proportion. But the mean considered 
 relatively to ourselves must not be ascertained in this 
 way. It does not follow that if 10 pounds of meat be 
 too much and 2 be too little for a man to eat, a 
 trainer will order him 6 pounds, as this may itself be 
 too much or too little for the person who is to take 
 it; it will be too little e.g. for Milo', but too much 
 for a beginner in gymnastics. It will be the same 
 with running and wrestling ; the right amount will 
 vary vnth the individual. This being so, everybody 
 who understands his business avoids alike excess and 
 deficiency ; he seeks and chooses the mean, not the 
 absolute mean, but the mean considered relatively to 
 ourselves. 
 
 ' In Aristotelian language, as Mr Peters says, a straight line 
 is a " continuous quantity " but a rouleau of sovereigns a " discrete 
 - quantity." 
 
 2 The famous Crotoniate wrestler. 
 
46 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 Every science then performs its function well, if it 
 regards the mean and refers the works which it 
 produces to the mean. This is the reason why it is 
 usually said of successful works that it is impossible 
 to take anything from them or to add anything to 
 them, which implies that excess or deficiency is fatal 
 to excellence but that the mean state ensures it. 
 Good' artists too, as we say, have an eye to the mean 
 in their works. But virtue, like Nature herself, is 
 more accurate and better than any art ; virtue there- 
 fore will aim at the mean ; — I speak of moral virtue, 
 as it is moral virtue which is concerned with emotions 
 and actions, and it is these which admit of excess and 
 deficiency and the mean. Thus it is possible to go 
 too far, or not to go far enough, in respect of fear, 
 courage, desire, anger, pity, and pleasure and pain 
 generally, and the excess and the deficiency are alike 
 wrong ; but to experience these emotions at the right 
 times and on the right occasions and towards the 
 right persons and for the right causes and in the 
 right manner is the mean or the supreme good, 
 which is characteristic of virtue. Similarly there 
 may be excess, deficiency, or the mean, in regard to 
 actions. But virtue is concerned with emotions and 
 actions, and here excess is an error and deficiency a 
 fault, whereas the mean is successful and laudable, and 
 success and merit are both characteristics of virtue. 
 
 Virtue a It appears then that virtue is a mean state, so far 
 
 inter- at Icast as it aims at the mean. 
 
 mediate 
 state. 
 
 1 In the Greek text the parenthesis should be continued to 
 the words jrpoj roiT-o ^Xfirovres epya^ovrat. 
 
CHAP. YI.] OF ARISTOTLE. 47 
 
 Again, there are many different ways of going 
 wrong; for evil is in its nature infinite, to use the 
 Pythagorean' figure, but good is finite. But there is 
 only one possible way of going right. Accordingly 
 the former is easy and the latter difficult ; it is easy 
 to miss the mark but difficult to hit it. This again is 
 a reason why excess and deficiency are characteristics 
 of vice and the mean state a characteristic of virtue. 
 "For good is simple, evil manifold 2." 
 
 Virtue then is a state of deliberate moral purpose Chap, vl 
 consisting in a mean that is relative to ourselves, the oj^^j,"" 
 meaa being determined' by reason, or as a prudent 
 man would determine it. 
 
 It is a mean state firstly as lying between two 
 vices, the vice of excess on the one hand, and 
 the vice of deficiency on the other, and secondly 
 because, whereas the vices either fall short of or go 
 beyond what is proper in the emotions and actions, 
 virtue not only discovers but embraces the mean. 
 
 Accordingly, virtue, if regarded in its essence or Virtue 
 theoretical conception, is a mean state, but, if regard- m^LVd 
 ed from the point of view of the highest good, or of ^^^^^ 
 excellence, it is an extreme. 
 
 But it is not every action or every emotion that 
 
 ^ The Pythagoreans, starting from the mystical significance of 
 nnmber, took the opposite principles of " the finite " (t-o irepas or 
 TO 7T€n-fpa<riiivov) and " the infinite " (ro anctpou) to represent good 
 and eviL 
 
 ^ A line— perhaps Pythagorean — of unknown authorship. 
 
 3 The superior authority of the MSS. is in favour of copur/jiEvrj, 
 but wpuTiiivri, which has the support of the Old Translation 
 and of Aspasius, accords better with the Aristotelian conception 
 of virtue. Cp. p. 29, IL 30—32. 
 
48 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 admits of a mean state. There are some whose very 
 name implies wickedness, as e.g. malice, shamelessness, 
 and envy, among emotions, or adultery, theft, and 
 murder, among actions. All these, and others like 
 them, are censured as being intrinsically wicked, not 
 merely the excesses or deficiencies of them. It is 
 never possible then to be right in respect of them ; 
 they are always sinful. Right or wrong in such 
 actions as adultery does not depend on our commit- 
 ting them with the right person, at the right time or 
 in the right manner ; on the contrary it is sinfiil to do 
 anything of the kind at all. It woidd be equally 
 wrong then to suppose that there can be a mean state 
 or an excess or deficiency in unjust, cowardly or licen- 
 tious conduct ; for, if it were so, there would be a mean 
 state of an excess or of a deficiency, an excess of an 
 excess and a deficiency of a deficiency. But as in 
 temperance and courage there can be no excess or de- 
 ficiency because the mean is, in a sense, an extreme, so 
 too in these cases there cannot be a mean or an excess 
 or deficiency, but, however the acts may be done, they 
 are wrong. For it is a general rule that an excess or 
 deficiency does not admit of a mean state, nor a mean 
 state of an excess or deficiency. 
 Chap. vh. But it is not cnough to lay down this as a general 
 rule ; it is necessary to apply it to particular cases, as 
 in reasonings upon actions general statements, al- 
 though they are broader', are less exact than particular 
 statements. For all action refers to particulars, and 
 it is essential that our theories should harmonize with 
 the particular cases to which they apply. 
 
 1 Reading Koivonpoi, with the majority of M8S. 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 49 
 
 We must take particular virtues then from the The doc- 
 catalogue' of virtues. ft^mln 
 
 In regard to feelings of fear and confidence, "^patton to 
 courage is a mean state. On the side of excess, he particular 
 whose fearlessness is excessive has no name, as often co„a„g 
 happens, but he whose confidence is excessive is 
 foolhardy, while he whose timidity is excessive and 
 whose confidence is deficient is a coward. 
 
 In respect of pleasures and pains, although not Temper 
 indeed of all pleasures and pains, and to a less extent °^'"*' 
 in respect of pains than of pleasures, the mean state 
 is temperance'', the excess is licentiousness. We 
 never find people who are deficient in regard to 
 pleasures; accordingly such people again have not 
 received a name, but we may call them insensible. 
 
 As regards the giving and taking of money, the Liberauty. 
 mean state is liberality, the excess and deficiency are 
 prodigality and iUiberality. Here the excess and 
 deficiency take opposite forms ; for while the prodigal 
 man is excessive in spending and deficient in taking, 
 the illiberal man is excessive in taking and deficient 
 in spending. 
 
 (For the present we are giving only a rough and 
 summary account of the virtues, and that is sufficient 
 for our purpose; we will hereafter determine their 
 character more exactly^) 
 
 ^ It would seem that a catalogue of virtues (8iaypa(t)tj or 
 viraypat^ri) must have been recognized in the Aristotelian school. 
 Cp. End. Eth. ii. eh. 3. 
 
 ^ It is well worth while, if it be possible, to restore the word 
 "temperance" to its true meaning, as the English equiyalent 
 of crex^poirivjj. 
 
 ^ I have placed this sentence in a parenthesis, as it interrupts 
 the argument respecting the right use of money. 
 
 W. N. E. 4 
 
cence. 
 
 edness. 
 
 50 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 In respect of money there are other dispositions 
 Magnifl- as Well. There is the mean state which is magnificence ; 
 for the magnificent man, as having to do with large 
 sums of money, differs from the liberal man who has 
 to do only with small sums; and the excess corre- 
 sponding to it is bad taste or Vulgarity, the deficiency 
 is meanness. These are different from the excess 
 and deficiency of liberality; what the difference is 
 p. 107. will be explained hereafter. 
 
 Highmind- In rcspect of honour and dishonour the mean 
 state is highmindedness, the excess is what is called 
 vanity,, the deficiency littlemindedness. Correspond- 
 ing to liberality, which, as we said, differs from 
 magnificence as having to do not with great hut with 
 small sums of money, there is a moral state which 
 has to do with petty honour and is related to high- 
 mindedness which has to do with great honour ; for it 
 is possiblie to aspire to honour in the right way, or in 
 a way which is excessive or insufficient, and if a 
 person's aspirations are excessive, he is called am- 
 bitious, if they are deficient, he is called unambitious, 
 while if they are between the two, he has no name. 
 The dispositions too are nameless, except that the 
 disposition of the ambitious person is called ambition. 
 The consequence is that the extremes lay claim to the 
 mean or intermediate place. We ourselves speak of 
 one who observes the mean sometimes as ambitious, 
 and at other times as unambitious; we sometimes 
 praise an ambitious, and at other times an unambitious 
 person. The reason for our doing so wiU be stated in 
 due course, but let us now discuss the other virtues 
 in accordance with the method which we have followed 
 hitherto. 
 
CHAP. VII.] OP ABISTOTLE. 51 
 
 Anger, like other emotions, has its excess, its Anger. 
 deficiency, and its mean state. It may be said that 
 they hare no names, but as we call one who observes 
 the mean gentle, we will call the mean state gentle- 
 ness. Among the extremes, if a person errs on the 
 side of excess, he may be called passionate and his 
 Tice passionateness, if on that of deficiency, he may be 
 called impassive and his deficiency impassivity. 
 
 There are also three other mean states with a 
 certain resemblance to each other, and yet with a 
 difference. For while they are aU concerned with 
 intercourse in speech and action, they are different in 
 that one of them is concerned with truth in such 
 intercourse, and the others with pleasantness, one 
 with pleasantness in amusement and the other with 
 pleasantness in the various circumstances of life. We 
 must therefore discuss these states in order to make 
 it clear that in all cases it is the mean state which is 
 an object of praise, and the extremes are neither right 
 nor laudable but censurable. It is true that these mean 
 and extreme states are generally nameless, but we 
 must do our best here as elsewhere to give them a 
 name, so that our argument may be clear and easy to 
 follow. 
 
 In the matter of truth then, he who observes the Truth- 
 mean may be called truthful, and the mean state 
 truthfiilness. Pretence, if it takes the form of exag- 
 geration, is boastfulness, and one who is guilty of 
 pretence is a boaster; but if it takes the form of 
 depreciation it is irony, and he who is guilty of it 
 is ironicaL 
 
 As regards pleasantness in amusement, he who wittiness. 
 
 4—2 
 
52 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 observes the mean is witty, and his disposition witti- 
 
 ness ; the excess is buffoonery, and he who is guilty 
 
 of it a buffoon, whereas he who is deficient in wit may 
 
 be called a boor and his moral state boorishness. 
 
 Friendii- As to tlie other kind of pleasantness, \iz. pleasant- 
 
 "^^°' ness in life, he who is pleasant in a proper way is 
 
 friendly, and his mean state friendliness ; but he who 
 
 goes too far, if he has no ulterior object in view, is 
 
 obsequious, while if his object is self interest, he is 
 
 a flatterer, and he who does not go far enough and 
 
 always makes himself unpleasant is a quarrelsome 
 
 and morose sort of person. 
 
 Mean states There are also mean states in the emotions* and 
 
 emotions, i^ the expression of the emotions. For although 
 
 Modesty, modcsty is not a virtue, yet a modest person is 
 
 praised as if he were virtuous ; for here too one 
 
 person is said to observe the mean and another to 
 
 exceeid it, as e.g. the bashful man who is never 
 
 anything but modest, whereas a person who has 
 
 insufficient modesty or no modesty at all is called 
 
 shameless, and one who observes the mean modest. 
 
 KigMeous Eighteous indignation, again, is a mean state 
 
 m^gna- bet^jreen envy and malice". They are all concerned 
 
 with the pain and pleasure which we feel at the 
 
 fortunes of our neighbours. A person who is right- 
 
 1 The distinction, it seems, is between those mean or inter- 
 mediate states (jiea-oTrjTes) which take the form of action and 
 •those which are simply emotional. 
 
 ^ Sir Alexander Grant points out that in the Rhetoric ii. ch. 
 9 the two vices between which righteous indignation (i/f/neo-tr) is 
 here said to lie are recognized as identical or as co-existing in 
 the same person 6 yap avros tariv iirixaipiKaKos Koi (fidovcpos. 
 
CHAP. VIII.] OP ARISTOTLE. 53 
 
 eously indignant is pained at the prosperity of the 
 undeserving ; but the envious person goes further 
 and is pained at anybody's prosperity, and the 
 malicious person is so far from being pained that he 
 actually rejoices at misfortunes. 
 
 We shall have another opportunity' however of 
 discussing these matters. But in regard to justice, as 
 the word is used in various senses, we will afterwards" 
 define those senses and explain how each of them is 
 a mean state. And we will follow the same course 
 with the intellectual virtues'. 
 
 There are then three dispositions, two being vices, Chap-VHI. 
 viz. one the vice of excess and the other that of 
 deficiency, and one virtue, which is the mean state 
 between them ; and they are all in a sense mutually 
 opposed. For the extremes are opposed both to the The ex- 
 mean and to each other, and the mean is opposed to p'S bX 
 the extremes. For as the equal if compared with the ana'to^aS 
 less is greater but if compared with the greater is o*^"^- 
 less, so the mean states, whether in the emotions or 
 in actions, if compared with the deficiencies, are 
 excessive, but if compared with the excesses are 
 deficient. Thus the courageous man appears fool- 
 hardy as compared with the coward, but cowardly 
 as compared with the foolhardy. Similarly, the 
 temperate man appears licentious as compared with 
 the insensible but insensible as compared with the 
 licentious, and the liberal man appears prodigal as 
 compared with the illiberal, but illiberal as compared 
 
 ' In Book iii. ch. 9 — end of Book iv. 
 ^ In Book T. 
 ' In Book vi. 
 
54 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 •with the prodigal. The result is that the extremes 
 mutually repel and reject the mean; the coward 
 calls the courageous man foolhardy, but the foolhardy 
 man calls him cowardly, and so on in the other cases. 
 
 But while there is this mutual opposition between 
 the extremes and the mean, there is greater oppo- 
 sition between the two extremes than between either 
 extreme and the mean ; for they are further removed 
 from each other than from the mean, as the great 
 from the small and the small from the great than 
 both from the equal. Again, while some extremes 
 exhibit more or less similarity to the mean, as 
 foolhardiness to courage and prodigality to hberality, 
 there is the greatest possible dissimilarity between 
 the extremes. But things which are furthest removed 
 from each other are defined to be opposites ; hence 
 the further things are removed, the greater is the 
 opposition between them. 
 
 It is in some cases the deficiency and in others 
 the excess which is the more opposed to the mean. 
 Thus it is not foolhardiness the excess, but cowardice 
 the deficiency which is the more opposed to courage, 
 nor is it insensibility the deficiency, but licentiousness 
 the excess which is the more opposed to temperance. 
 There are two reasons why this should be so. One 
 lies in the nature of the thing itself; for as one of 
 the two extremes is the nearer and more similar to 
 the mean, it is not this extreme, but its opposite, 
 that we chiefly set against the mean. For instance, 
 as it appears that foolhardiness is more similar and 
 nearer to courage than cowardice, it is cowardice that 
 we chiefly set against courage ; for things which are 
 
CHAP. IX.] OF ARISTOTLE. 55 
 
 farther removed from the mean seem to be more 
 opposite to it. This being one reason which lies in 
 the nature of the thing itself, there is a second which 
 lies in our own nature. It is the things to which we 
 ourselves are naturally more inclined that appear 
 more opposed to the mean. Thus we are ourselves 
 naturally more inclined to pleasures than to their oppo- 
 sites, and are more prone therefore to licentiousness 
 than to decorum. Accordingly we speak of those 
 things, in which we are more likely to run to great 
 lengths, as being more opposed to the mean. Hence 
 it follows that licentiousness which is an excess is 
 more opposed to temperance than insensibility. 
 
 It has now been sufficiently shown that moral Chap. ix. 
 virtue is a mean state, and in what sense it is a mean o/'^tne'^ 
 state ; it is a mean state as lying between two vices, as a mean 
 
 state. 
 
 a vice of excess on the one side and a vice of deficiency 
 on the other, and as aiming at the mean in the 
 emotions and actions. 
 
 That is the reason why it is so hard to be virtuous ; Difficulty 
 for it is always hard work to find the mean in wrtnons 
 anything, e.g. it is not everybody, but only a man ^®- 
 of science, who can find the mean or centre* of a 
 circle. So too anybody can get angry — that is an 
 easy matter — and anybody can give or spend money, 
 but to give it to the right persons, to give the right 
 amount of it and to give it at the right time and for 
 the right cause and in the right way, this is not what 
 anybody can do, nor is it easy. That is the reason 
 
 1 Aristotle does not seem to be aware that the centre (ro 
 fiitrov) of a circle is not really comparable to the mean {to fiiirov) 
 between the vicea.-; 
 
56 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK II. 
 
 why it is rare and laudable and noble to do well. 
 Accordingly one who aims at the mean must begin 
 by departing from that extreme which is the more 
 contrary to the mean ; he must act in the spirit of 
 Calypso's* advice, 
 
 "Par from this smoke and swell keep thou thy bark," 
 for of the two extremes one is more sinful than 
 the other. As it is difficult then to hit the mean 
 exactly, we must take the second best course", as the 
 saying is, and choose the lesser of two evils, and this 
 we shall best do in the way that we have described, 
 i.e. by steering clear of the evil which is further from 
 the mean. We must also observe the things to which 
 we are ourselves particularly prone, as different 
 natures have different inclinations, and we may ascer- 
 tain what these are by a consideration of our feelings 
 of pleasure and pain. And then we must drag 
 ourselves in the direction opposite to them ; for it is 
 by removing ourselves as far as possible from what is 
 wrong that we shall arrive at the mean, as we do 
 when we puU a crooked stick straight. 
 
 But in all cases we must especially be on our 
 guard against what is pleasant and against pleasure, 
 as we are not impartial judges of pleasure. Hence 
 our attitude towards pleasure must be like that of 
 the elders of the people in the Iliad towards Helen, 
 and we must never be a&aid of applying the words 
 
 ' Odyssey xii. 219, 220 ; but it is Odysseus who speaks there, 
 and the advice has been given him not by Calypso but by Circe 
 {ibid. 101—110). 
 
 2 The Greek proverb means properly " v? e must take to the 
 oars, if sailing is impossible." 
 
CHAP. IX.] OF ARISTOTLE. 57 
 
 they use ^ ; for if we dismiss pleasure as they dismissed 
 Helen, we shall be less likely to go wrong. It is by 
 action of this kind, to put it summarily, that we shall 
 best succeed in bitting the mean. 
 
 It may be admitted that this is a diificult task, 
 especially in particular cases. It is not easy to 
 determine e.g. the right manner, objects, occasions, 
 and duration of anger. There are times when we 
 ourselves praise people who are deficient in anger, 
 and call them gentle, and there are other times 
 when we speak of people who exhibit a savage temper 
 as spirited. It is not however one who deviates a 
 little from what is right, but one who deviates a great 
 deal, whether on the side of excess or of deficiency,' 
 that is censured ; for he is sure to be found out. 
 Again, it is not easy to decide theoretically how far 
 and to what extent a man may go before he becomes 
 censurable, but neither is it easy to define theoreti- 
 cally anything else within the region of perception ; 
 such things fall under the head of particulars, and 
 our judgment of them depends upon our perception. 
 
 So much then is plain, that the mean state is 
 everywhere laudable, but that we ought to incline at 
 one time towards the excess and at another towards 
 the deficiency ; for this will be our easiest manner of 
 hitting the mean, or in other words of attaining 
 excellence. 
 
 1 The lines are worth quoting : 
 
 oiJ vefiea-K Tpaas (cai «UK«j(xi8ar 'Axauivs 
 
 ToifiS afi<f)\ yvvaiKi iriiKvv pfpoyow oiKyca irdcrj^eiv. 
 
 alvas ddava.Ti}(Ti Befis fls ana coiKiv, 
 
 aWa Kal as roir) wep iovir iv vrfva-X veiaSa 
 
 jiiyS" Tjiuv TCKieo'a'i t oiriairu) nrjfia \liroiro, H. iii. 156 — 160. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 Chap. I. As virtue is concerned with emotions and actions, 
 anS-*"^"^ and such emotions and actions as are voluntary are 
 voluntary the Subjects of praise and blame, while such as are 
 involuntary are the subjects of pardon and sometimes 
 even of pity, it is necessary, I think, in an investiga- 
 tion of virtue to distinguish what is voluntary from 
 what is involuntary. It will also be useful in legisla- 
 tion as bearing upon the honours and punishments 
 which the legislator assigns. 
 
 It is generally admitted' that acts done mider 
 compulsion, or from ignorance, are involuntary. But 
 an act is compulsory, if its origin is external to the 
 agent or patient, i.e. if it is one in which the agent or 
 the patient contributes nothing, as e.g. if the wind, or 
 people who have us in their power, were to carry us 
 in a certain direction. But if an action is done from 
 fear of greater evils or for some noble end, e.g. if a 
 tyrant, who had our parents and children in his 
 power, were to order us to do some shameful act, on 
 condition that, if we did it, their lives should be 
 
 ' Such is the force of boutt in many passages of Aristotle. 
 
CH. I.] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. 59 
 
 spared, and, if not, they should be put to death, it is 
 a question whether sueh action is voluntary or in- 
 voluntary. The case of throwing goods overboard 
 during a storm at sea is similar ; for although nobody 
 would voluntarily make such a sacrifice in the abstract, 
 yet every sensible person vrill make it for his own 
 safety and the safety of his fellow passengers. Actions 
 like this, although they are of a mixed character, are 
 more like voluntary than involuntary actions, as they 
 are chosen at the time of performing them, and the 
 end or character of an action depends upon the choice 
 made at the moment of performing it. When we 
 speak then of an action as voluntary or involuntary, 
 we must have regard to the time at which a person 
 performs it The person* whose actions we are con- 
 sidering acts voluntarily ; for in actions like his the 
 original power which sets the instrumentality of his 
 limbs in motion lies in himself, and when the origin 
 of a thing lies in a person himself, it is in his power 
 either to do it or not to do it. Such actions then are 
 pradUvcally voluntary, although in the abstract they 
 may be said perhaps to be involuntary, as nobody 
 would choose any such action in itself. 
 
 Such actions are at times subjects of praise, when 
 people submit to something that is shamefiil or pain- 
 fill for the sake of gaining what is great and noble ; 
 or in the contrary case they are the subjects of 
 censure, as it is only a bad man who would submit to 
 what is utterly shamefiil, if his object were not noble 
 at all, or were indifierent. There are also some 
 
 ' i.e. the person who acts at the command of a tyrant or, when 
 he is at sea, under stress of stormy weather. 
 
60 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 actions which are pardonable, although not laudable, 
 as when a person is induced to do what is wrong by 
 such causes as are too strong for human nature and 
 do not admit of resistance. Yet it is probable that 
 there are some actions where compulsion is an im- 
 possibility; a person would rather suffer the most 
 dreadful form of death than do them. Thus the 
 reasons which constrained Alcmseon^ in Euripides to 
 murder his mother are clearly ridiculous. 
 
 It is sometimes difficult to determine what ought 
 to be chosen or endured for the sake of obtaining or 
 avoiding a certain result. But it is still more difficult 
 to abide by our decisions ; for it generally happens 
 that, while the consequence which we expect is 
 painiiil, the act which we are constrained to do is 
 shamefiil, and therefore we receive censure or praise 
 according as we yield or do not yield to the con- 
 straint, 
 compui- What class of actions then is it that may be 
 
 S"'"" rightly called compulsory? Actions it may be said 
 are compulsory in the abstract, whenever the cause is 
 external to the agent and he contributes nothing to 
 it. But if an action, although involuntary in itself, is 
 chosen at a particular time and for a particular end, 
 and if its original cause lies in the agent himself, 
 then, although such an action is involuntary in itself, 
 it is voluntary at that time and for that end. Such 
 an action however is more like a voluntary than an 
 
 1 Alcmseon murdered his mother Eriphyle in revenge for the 
 murder of his father ; but as the play of Euripides is lost, it is 
 impossible to say what "the reasons" alleged in it were. 
 
CHAP. II.] OF AMSTOTLE. 61 
 
 involuntary action ; for actions fall under the category 
 of particulars, and in the supposed case the particular 
 action is voluntary. 
 
 It is not easy to state what kind of actions are to 
 be chosen for certain ends, as particular cases admit 
 of many differences. It might be argued that what- 
 ever is pleasant or noble is compulsory, as pleasure 
 and nobleness are external to ourselves and exercise 
 a constraint upon us; but if that were so, every 
 action would be compulsory, as these are the motives 
 of all actions in us all. Again, if a person acts under 
 compulsion and involuntarily, his action is painful to 
 him ; but if the motives of his action are pleasure 
 and nobleness, it is pleasant. It is ridiculous to 
 lay the blame of our wrong actions upon external 
 causes, rather than upon the facility with which we 
 ourselves axe caught by such causes, and, while we 
 take the credit of our noble actions to ourselves, to 
 lay the blame of our shameful actions upon pleasure. 
 It seems then that an action is compulsory if its 
 origin is external to the agent, i.e. if the person who 
 is the subject of compulsion is in no sense contribu- 
 tory to the action. 
 
 An action which is due to ignorance is always Chap. n. 
 non-voluntary ; but it is not involuntary, unless it is ^dSiitary 
 followed by pain and excites a feeling of regret. For *^.^°^" 
 if a person has performed an action, whatever it may fromin- 
 be, from ignorance, and yet feels no distress at his lot^n.*^ 
 action, it is true that he has not acted voluntarily, as 
 he was not aware of what he was doing, but on the 
 other hand, he has not acted involuntarily, so long as 
 he feels no pain. 
 
62 
 
 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 Action 
 from igno- 
 rance and 
 action in 
 ignorance. 
 
 If a person who has acted from ignorance regrets 
 what he has done, it may be said that he is an in- 
 voluntary agent; but, if he does not regret it, his 
 case is different', and he may be called a non- 
 voluntary agent, for, as there is this difference, it is 
 better that he should have a special name. 
 
 It vrould seem, too, that there is a difference 
 between acting from ignorance and doing a thing in 
 ignorance. Thus, if a person is intoxicated or infuri- 
 ated, he is not regarded as acting from ignorance, but 
 as acting from intoxication or fury; yet he does not 
 act consciously but in ignorance. 
 
 It" must be admitted then that every vicious person 
 is ignorant of what he ought to do, and what he ought 
 to abstain from doing, and that ignorance is the error 
 which makes people unjust and generally wicked. 
 But when we speak of an action as involuntary, we 
 do not mean merely that a person is ignorant of his 
 true interest. The ignorance which is the cause of 
 involuntary action, as distinguished from that which 
 is the cause of vice, is not such ignorance as affects 
 the moral purpose, nor again is it ignorance of the 
 universal ; for this is censurable. It is rather igno- 
 rance of particulars, i.e. ignorance of the particular 
 circumstances and occasion of the action. Where this 
 ignorance exists, there is room for pity and forgive- 
 ness, as one who is ignorant of any such particular is 
 an involuntary agent. 
 
 1 The comma should be placed after mpos, not after cara. 
 
 2 The Socratic identification of virtue with knowledge lies at 
 the root of this statement. 
 
CHAP, n.] or ARISTOTLE. 63 
 
 It will perhaps be as well then to define the nature Particulars 
 and number of these particulars. They are 
 
 1. the agent, 
 
 2. the act, 
 
 3. the occasion or circumstances of the act. 
 Sometimes also 
 
 4. the instrument, e.g. a tool, 
 
 5. the object, e.g. safety, 
 
 and 6. the manner of doing an act, e.g. gently 
 
 or violently. 
 Nobody but a madman can be ignorant of all these 
 particulars. It is clear that nobody can be ignorant 
 of the agent; for how can a person be ignorant of 
 himself? But a person may be ignorant of what he 
 is doing, as when people say that a word escaped 
 them unawares or that they did not know a subject 
 was forbidden, like ^Eschylus* when he revealed the 
 mysteries, or that he only meant to show the working 
 of a weapon when he discharged it, like the man who 
 discharged the catapult. Again, a person may take 
 his son for an enemy like Merope^, or a pointed foil 
 for a foil that has its button on, or a solid stone for a 
 pumice stone, or he may loll somebody by a blow" 
 
 1 The usual story, although it hardly suits the present passage, 
 is that ^schylus waa accused before the Areopagus of having 
 revealed the Eleusinian mysteries and defended himself by alleging 
 that he had never been initiated in them. 
 
 ' Merope, wife of Cresphontes, VFas on the point of murdering 
 her son JBpytus by mistake, as Aristotle himself relates Poetic 
 ch. 14, p. 1454A6-J. There was a play of Euripides called 
 Cresphontes. 
 
 ' I have kept, with some hesitation, the reading irai<ras ; but 
 TTtVaj (from irimtTKa) improves the sense and is adopted by 
 Bemays and Bywater. 
 
64 THE NieOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 that was meant to save him, or he may deal a fatal 
 blow while only intending, as in a sparring match, to 
 give a lesson in the art of dealing a blow. As there 
 may be ignorance in regard to all these particular 
 circumstances of an action, it may be said that a 
 person has acted involuntarily, if he was ignorant of 
 any one of them, and especially of such particulars as 
 seem to be most important, i.e. of the circumstances 
 of the action, and of its natural result. But' if an 
 action is to be called involuntary in respect of such 
 ignorance, it is necessary that it should be painful 
 to the agent and should excite in him a feeling of 
 regret. 
 Chap. m. As an action is involuntary if done under compul- 
 Voiimtary gjon or from ignorance, it would seem to follow that 
 it is voluntary if the agent originates it with a 
 knowledge of the particular circumstances of the 
 Actionsdue action. For it is perhaps wrong to say that actions 
 OT^esSe" ^^hich are due to passion or desire are involuntary. 
 arevoiim- YoT in the first place upon that hypothesis none of 
 the lower animals can any more be said to act 
 voluntarily, nor can children ; and secondly is it to be 
 argued that nothing which we do from desire or 
 passion is voluntary? or are our noble actions done 
 voluntarily, and our shameful actions involuntarily? 
 Surely the latter view is ridiculous, if one and the 
 same person is the author of both kinds of action. 
 But it would seem irrational to assert that such 
 things as ought to be the objects of desire are desired 
 involuntarily ; and there are certain things which 
 ought to be the occasions of anger, and certain things 
 
 1 The 8^ should probably be 8e. 
 
CHAP. IV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 65 
 
 such as health and learning, which ought to be the 
 objects of desire. Again, it seems that what is in- 
 voluntary is painfiil, but what is done from desire is 
 pleasant. Again, what diflFerence is there, in respect of 
 involuntariness, between errors of reason and errors 
 of passion? It is our duty to avoid both ; but the 
 irrational emotions seem to be as truly human as the 
 reason itself and therefore we are as truly responsible 
 for our emotions as for oivr reasoning. Such actions 
 then as proceed from passion and desire* are not less 
 the actions of the man than rational actions ; it is 
 absurd therefore to regard these as involuntary. 
 
 Having thus distinguished voluntary from involun- Chap. iv. 
 tary action, we naturally proceed to discuss moral pur- po°e* ^^' 
 pose. For it would seem that the moral purpose is 
 most closely related to virtue, and is a better criterion 
 of character than actions themselves are. 
 
 It is clear that moral purpose is something volun- Moral pur- 
 tary. Still moral purpose and volition are notTOiuion. 
 identical; volition is a term of wider range. For 
 while children and the lower animals participate in 
 volition, they do not participate in moral purpose. 
 Also we speak of actions done on the spur of the 
 moment as being voluntary, but not as being done 
 with moral purpose. 
 
 It would appear then that the definition of moral 
 purpose as desire, or passion, or wish, or opinion of 
 some sort is a mistake. For moral purpose is not 
 like desire and passion common to irrational creatures Nor desire. 
 as well as to Man. Again, an incontinent person acts 
 
 ' I read with Mr Bywater aa-T( koI al 7rpa|ctr, and insert at 
 before arro Bvfiov. 
 
 W. N. E. 5 
 
66 
 
 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 Nor 
 passion. 
 
 from desire but not from moral purpose. On the 
 other hand a continent person acts from moral pur- 
 pose but not from desire. Again, desire is contrary 
 to moral purpose, but one desire is not contrary to 
 another. Desire, too, is, but moral purpose is not, 
 directed to pleasures and pains. StiU less can moral 
 purpose be the same thing as passion ; for there are 
 no actions which seem to be so little directed by 
 moral purpose as those which are due to angry passion. 
 Nor wish. Nor again is moral purpose the same thing as wish, 
 although it is clear that it is nearly allied to it. For 
 moral purpose does not apply to impossibilities, and 
 anybody who should say that he had a purpose of 
 achieving what is impossible would be thought a fool. 
 But there is such a thing as wishing for the impossible, 
 as e.g. for immortality. Again, while we may wish 
 for things which could not possibly be affected by our 
 own action, as e.g. for the victory of a certain actor or 
 athlete, it can never be said that we purpose such 
 things ; we only purpose what may, as we think, be 
 possibly effected by our own action. Again, the wish 
 is directed rather to the end, but the moral purpose 
 to the means. Thus we wish to be in good health, 
 but we purpose or choose the means of being in good 
 health. Or again we wish to be happy and admit the 
 wish ; but we cannot appropriately say that we pur- 
 pose or choose to be happy. For it seems to be a 
 general law that our moral purpose is confined to 
 such things as lie within our own power. Nor again 
 can moral purpose be opinion, for it seems that the 
 sphere of opinion is xmiversal; it embraces things 
 
 Nor 
 opinion, 
 
CHAP. IV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 67 
 
 which are eternal or impossible as much as things 
 ■which lie within our own power. Opinion too, unlike 
 moral purpose, is distinguished by being true or false, 
 not by being good or evfl. Perhaps there is nobody 
 who maintains that moral purpose is identical with 
 opinion generally; but neither is it identical with 
 opinion of a particular kind. For it is according as 
 we purpose or choose what is good or evil, and not 
 according as we hold particular opinions, that we 
 possess a certain character. Again, we choose to 
 accept or avoid a thing and so on, but we opine what 
 a thing is, or for whom or in what way it is beneficial. 
 We do not opine at all to accept or avoid a thing. 
 Again, whereas moral purpose is praised rather as 
 being directed to a proper end than as being correct, 
 opinion is praised as being^ true. Again, we purpose 
 or choose such things as we best know to be good; 
 but we form an opinion of things of which we have 
 no knowledge. Again, it is apparently not the same 
 people who make the best choice and who form the 
 best opinions. There are some people who form a 
 better opinion than others, but are prevented by vice 
 from making the right choice. It is possible that 
 opinion may precede moral purpose or foUow it, but 
 that is not the point ; for the question which we are 
 considering is simply this, whether moral purpose is 
 identical with opinion of a particular kind. 
 
 What then is the nature and character of moral 
 purpose, since it is none of the things which have 
 been mentioned? It is clearly voluntary, but there 
 are things which are voluntary and yet are not chosen 
 or purposed. It may be said, I think, that a thing is 
 
 5—2 
 
68 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 voluntary, if it is the result of previous deliberation, 
 for moral purpose implies reason and thought. The 
 very name (Trpoaipea-KY seems to indicate previous 
 deliberation, as it denotes something chosen in prefer- 
 ence to other things. 
 Chap. v. The question is, Do we deliberate upon everything ? 
 deiibera- °^ ^^ everything a matter for deliberation, or are there 
 tion. some things which are not subjects of deliberation ? 
 
 We must presumably understand by " a matter of 
 deliberation " not that about which a fool or a mad- 
 man, but that about which a sensible person, would 
 deliberate. 
 
 Nobody deliberates about things which are eternal, 
 i.e. immutable, as e.g. the universe or the incommensu- 
 rability of the diagonal and the side of a square; 
 or about things which are in motion but always 
 follow the same course, whether of necessity or by 
 nature or for some other cause, as e.g. the solstices 
 and sunrisings; or about things which are wholly 
 irregular like droughts and showers ; or about mere 
 matters of chance such as the finding of a treasure. 
 Nor again are all human affairs matters of delibera- 
 tion ; thus no Lacedaemonian will deliberate upon the 
 best constitution for the Scythians. The reason why 
 we do not deliberate about these things is that none 
 of them can be effected by our action. The matters 
 about which we deliberate are practical matters lying 
 within our power. There is in fact no other class of 
 matters left; for it would seem that the causes of 
 things are nature, necessity, chance, and besides these 
 
 1 The English translation will not represent the derivation of 
 irpoalpea-it (moral purpose) from irpo, alpe'urdai (to choose before). ■ 
 
CHAP, v.] OF ARISTOTLE. 69 
 
 only intelligence, and human agency in its various 
 forms. But different classes of people deliberate 
 about such practical matters as depend upon their 
 several actions. Further, those sciences, which are 
 exact and complete in themselves, do not admit of 
 deliberation, as e.g. writing ; for we are in no doubt as 
 to the proper way of writing. But if a thing depends 
 upon our own action and is not invariable, it is a 
 matter of dehberation, as e.g. questions of medicine, 
 of finance, or of navigation rather than of gymnastic, 
 as being less exactly systematized, and similarly aU 
 other arts, and again, the arts more than the sciences, 
 as we are more in doubt about them. 
 
 Dehberation occurs in cases which fall under a 
 general rule, if it is uncertain what the issue will be, 
 and in cases which do not admit of an absolute 
 decision. We invite the help of other people in our 
 deliberations; upon matters of importance, when we 
 distrust our own ability to decide them. 
 
 Again, we dehberate not about ends but about the 
 means to ends. Thus a doctor does not deliberate 
 whether he shall cure his patients, nor an orator 
 whether he shall persuade his audience, nor a states- 
 man whether he shall produce law and order, nor 
 does any one else deliberate about his end. They all 
 propose to themselves a certain end and then consider 
 how and by what means it can be attained, and if it 
 appears capable of attainment by several means, they 
 consider what will be the easiest and best means of 
 attaining it, and if there is only one means of attain- 
 ing it, how it may be attained by this means, and by 
 what means this means itself can be attained, until 
 they come to the first cause, which in the order of 
 
70 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 discovery is last. For it seems that deliberation is a 
 process of investigation and analysis such as this : it 
 is like the analysis of a geometrical figured It 
 appears" however that, while investigation is not 
 always deliberation, mathematical investigations, e.g. 
 not being so, deliberation is always investigation, 
 and that that which is last in the order of analysis is 
 first in the order of production. 
 
 If in a deliberation we come upon an impossibility, 
 we abandon our task, as e.g. if money is required and 
 it is impossible to provide the money; but if it 
 appears to be possible, we set about doing it. By 
 possibilities I mean such things as may be effected 
 by our own actions ; for what is done by our friends 
 may be said to be done by ourselves, as the origin of 
 it lies in ourselves'. The question is sometimes what 
 instruments are necessary, and at other times how 
 they are to be used. Similarly in all other cases it 
 is sometimes the means of doing a certain thing and 
 at other times the manner or the agency that is in 
 question. 
 p. 68. It seems, as has been said, that a man originates 
 
 his own actions. Deliberation touches such things as 
 may be done by a man himself, and actions are done 
 
 ^ The point of the comparison is that, if it is desired to ascer- 
 tain the construction of a geometrical figure, the best way is 
 often to assume the figure as already constructed and then to 
 work backwards to the conditions necessary for constructing it. 
 
 2 Mr Bywater's plan of treating the words c^oiVcrat 8" ij iiev 
 fi?n)<ris...wa(fa f^njo-w as parenthetical is an improvement in point 
 of sense but grammatically so harsh that I have not felt justified 
 in adopting it. 
 
 ' The conception of a friend as "a second self" (^erepos avros) 
 is thoroughly Aristotelian. 
 
CHAP. V.J OF ARISTOTLE. 71 
 
 for the sake of something which lies beyond them- 
 selves. Accordingly it is not the end, but the means 
 to the end, that will be matter of deliberation. Nor 
 again will particular questions be matters of delibera- 
 tion, as e.g. the question whether a particular thing is 
 a loaf or has been properly baked ; that is rather a 
 matter of perception, and, if we go on deliberating 
 for ever, we shall never come to an end. 
 
 The objects of deliberation and of moral purpose 
 are the same, except that the object of moral purpose 
 is already determined ; for it is that which is preferred 
 after dehberation. For everybody gives up inquiring 
 how he shall act when he has traced back the origin 
 of his action to himself and to the dominant part of 
 himself, i.e. to the part which exercises moral choice 
 or purpose. There is an illustration of this principle 
 in the ancient polities which Homer' represented, for 
 in them the kings promulgated their pm-pose, what- 
 ever it toight be, to the people. 
 
 But if the object of our moral purpose is that 
 which, being in our power, is after deliberation the 
 object of our desire, it follows that the moral purpose 
 is a deliberative desire of something which is in our 
 power ; for we first deliberate upon a thing and, after 
 passing judgment upon it, we desire it in accordance 
 with our deliberation. 
 
 Let us now leave this rough sketch of the moral 
 purpose. We have shown what are the matters with 
 which it deals, and that it is directed to the means 
 rather than to the ends. 
 
 I As the Homeric king issued his decree to the people without 
 consulting them, so the moral purpose determines and declares 
 what a man shall do. 
 
the wish. 
 
 72 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 Chap. VI. We have said that the wish is directed to the end ; 
 
 ^^^^' but there are some people who hold that the eud is 
 the good, and others that it is what appears to be 
 
 Object of good. If it is said that the object of wish is the 
 good, it follows that where a person's moral purpose 
 or choice is wrong that which he wishes is not in the 
 proper sense an object of wish ; for if it is an object of 
 wish it will also be a good, but it was perhaps an evil. 
 If on the other hand, it is said that it is what appears 
 to be good which is the object of wish, it follows that 
 there is no such thing as a natural object of wish, but 
 that it is in every man's case that which seems good 
 to him. But different, and it may be even opposite 
 things, seem good to different people. 
 
 If these conclusions are not satisfactory, it will 
 perhaps be best to say that in an absolute or true 
 sense it is the good which is the object of wish, but 
 that in reference to the individual it is that which 
 appears to be good. Hence it is the true good which 
 is good relatively to the virtuous man, and something 
 that need not be defined which is good relatively to 
 the vicious man. The case is much the same as in 
 the body ; when people are in a good state of health 
 it is things which are truly wholesome that are whole- 
 some to them, but when they are in a bad state of 
 health it is other things, and so with things that are 
 bitter, sweet, hot, heavy, and the rest. For the 
 virtuous man forms a right judgment of particular 
 cases, and in every case that which is true appears 
 true to him. For every moral state has its own 
 honours and pleasures, nor is there any point perhaps 
 so distinctive of the virtuous man as his power of 
 seeing the truth in all cases, because he is, as it were, 
 
CHAP. VII.] or ARISTOTLE. 73 
 
 the standard and measure of things. It seems to be 
 pleasure which most frequently deceives people, for 
 pleasure appears to be good, although it is not, and 
 the result is that they choose what is pleasant as if it 
 were good, and avoid pain as if it were evil 
 
 As it is the end which is the object of wish, and Chap. vn. 
 the means to the end which are the objects of de- 
 liberation and moral purpose, it follows that such 
 actions as are concerned with the means will be 
 determined by moral purpose and will be voluntary. 
 But it is with the means that the activities of the 
 virtues are concerned. 
 
 Virtue and vice are both alike in our own power ; Virtue 
 for where it is in our power to act, it is also in our voiuntajy. 
 power to refrain from acting, and where it is in our 
 power to refrain from acting, it is also in our power 
 to act. Hence if it is in our power to act when action 
 is noble, it will also be in our power to refrain from 
 acting when inaction is shameful, and if it is in our 
 power to refrain from acting when inaction is noble, 
 it will also be in our power to act when action is 
 shameful. But if it is in our power to do, and likewise 
 not to do, what is noble and shameful, and if so to 
 act or not to act is as we have seen to be good or bad, 
 it follows that it is in our power to be virtuous or 
 vicious. The saying 
 
 "None would be wicked, none would not be blessed^," 
 
 seems to be partly false and partly true ; for while 
 nobody is blessed against his will, vice is voluntary. 
 If this is not the case, it is necessary to dispute 
 
 1 The line is of unknown authorship. 
 
74 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 the statements which have just been made and to say 
 that a man is not the author or father of his actions 
 in the same sense as he is of his family. But if 
 these statements appear to be true and we cannot 
 refer our actions to any other original sources than, 
 such as lie in our own power, then whatever it is 
 that has its sources in us must itself be in our own 
 power and must be voluntary. This view seems to be 
 supported by the testimony both of private individuals 
 and of legislators themselves ; for legislators punish 
 and chastise evil-doers, unless the evil be done imder 
 compulsion or from ignorance for which its authors 
 are not responsible ; but they pay honour to people 
 who perform noble actions, their object being to 
 discourage the one class of actions and to stimulate 
 the others. Yet nobody stimulates us to do such 
 things as are not in our own power or voluntary. It 
 would be useless, e.g., to persuade us not to get hot, 
 or to feel pain or hunger, or anything of the kind, as 
 we should experience these sensations all the same. I 
 say "ignorance for which aperson is not responsible," 
 as we punish a person for mere ignorance, if it seems 
 that he is responsible for it. Thus the punishments 
 inflicted on drunken people who commit a crime are 
 double', as the origin of the crime lies in the person 
 himself, for it was in his power not to get drunk, and 
 the drunkenness was the cause of his ignorance. 
 
 Again, we punish people who are ignorant of any 
 legal point, if they ought to know it, and could easily 
 
 ^ Such was the effect of a law of Pittacus to which Aristotle 
 refers in the Politics, ii. ch. 12, p. 1274Bi8,„. 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF AHISTOTLE. 75 
 
 know it. Similarly in other cases we punish people, 
 whenever it seems that their ignorance was due to 
 carelessness ; for they had it in their power not to be 
 ignorant, as they might have taken the trouble to 
 inform themselves. It will perhaps be argued that a 
 person is of such a character that he cannot take the 
 trouble ; but the answer is that people are themselves 
 responsible for having acquired such a character by 
 their dissolute life, and for being unjust or licentious, 
 as their injustice is the consequence of doing wrong, 
 and their licentiousness of spending their time in 
 drinking and other such things. For a person's 
 character depends upon the way in which he exer- 
 cises his powers. The case of people who practise 
 with a view to any competition or action is a proof of 
 this law ; for they are never weary of exercising. 
 
 Now a person must be utterly senseless, if he does 
 not know that moral states are formed by the exercise 
 of the powers iu one way or another. Again, it is 
 irrational to assert that one who acts unjustly does 
 not wish to be unjust, or that one who acts licentiously 
 does not wish to be licentious. If a person, not acting 
 in ignorance, commits such actions as will make him 
 unjust, he wiU be voluntarily unjust. But it does not 
 follow that, if he wishes, he will cease to be unjust 
 and wiU be just, any more than it follows that a sick 
 man, if he wishes, wiU be well. It may happen that 
 he is voluntarily ill through living an incontinent life, 
 and disobeying his doctors. If so, it was once in his 
 power not to be iU; but, as he has thrown the 
 opportunity away, it is no longer in his power. 
 Similarly, when a man has thrown a stone, it is no 
 
76 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 longer possible for him to recall it ; still for all that 
 it was in his power to throw or fling it, as the 
 original act was in his power. So too the unjust or 
 licentious person had it in his power in the first 
 instance not to become such, and therefore he is 
 Toluntarily unjust or licentious; but when he has 
 become such, it is no longer in his power not to be 
 unjust or licentious. 
 
 But not only are the vices of the soul voluntary, 
 the vices of the body are also voluntary in some cases, 
 and in these cases are censured. For while nobody 
 censures people who are born ugly, we censure people 
 whose ugliness arises from negligence and want of 
 exercise. It is the same with bodily infirmities and 
 defects ; nobody would find fault with a person who 
 is born blind or whose blindness is the result of 
 illness or of a blow ; he would rather be an object 
 of pity; but if his blindness were the result of intem- 
 perance or licentiousness of any kind, he would be 
 universally censured. 
 
 Such bodily vices then as depend on ourselves are 
 subjects of censure, and such as do not depend on 
 ourselves are not. But if so, it follows that other than 
 bodily vices, if they are objects of censure, must 
 depend on ourselves. 
 
 It may be said however that we aU aspire after 
 what appears to be good, only we are not masters of 
 the appearance. But the appearance which the end 
 takes in the eyes of each of us depends upon his 
 character. If each of us then is in a certain sense 
 responsible for his moral state, he will be himself in a 
 certain sense responsible for the appearance ; but, if 
 
CHAP. VII.] or AHISTOTLE. TJ 
 
 not, nobody will be responsible for his own evil doing, 
 everybody will act as he does from ignorance of the 
 end and under the impression that this will be the 
 means of gaining the suprrane good*, the aspiration 
 after the tnie end will not be a matter of our own 
 choice, and it will be necessary for a man to be bom 
 with a sort of moral vision, enabling him to form a 
 noble judgment and to choose that which is truly 
 good. He who naturally possesses this noble judg- 
 ment will be Nature's noble ; for he will possess the 
 greatest and noblest of aU gifts, the gift which can 
 never be received or learnt from anybody else, but 
 must always be kept as Nature herself gave it, and to 
 possess this natural gift in virtue and honour is to 
 have a perfect and sincere nobility of nature. 
 
 If these considerations are true, why should virtue 
 be voluntary rather than vice? For both alike, for 
 the good and for the evil, the end is apparent and 
 ordained by Nature, or in whatever way it may be, 
 and it is to the end that men refer all their actions, 
 however they may act Whether the end then, what- 
 ever it be which any individual regards as the end, 
 does not so appear to him by nature but depends in 
 part on himself, or whether the end is naturally 
 ordained, but virtue is voluntary, as the virtuous man 
 does voluntarily all that he does to gain the end, in 
 either case vice will be voluntary as much as virtue ; 
 for the personality of the bad man is as potent an 
 iniluence as that of the good man in his actions, if not 
 in his conception of the end. 
 
 If then, as is generally allowed, the virtues are 
 ''■ The stop after ea-ea-Sai should be a comma. 
 
78 
 
 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 voluntary (for we are ourselves, in a sense, partly 
 responsible for our moral states, and it is because we 
 possess a certain character that the end which we set 
 before ourselves is of a certain kind), it follows that 
 our vices too must be voluntary, as what is true of 
 one is equally true of the other. 
 
 Chap.vhi. We have now described in outline the nature of 
 the virtues generally. We have shown that they are 
 means between two vices and that they are moral 
 states. We have explained what are the causes pro- 
 ducing them and that they naturally issue in the 
 performance of the actions by which they are pro- 
 duced, that they are in our own power and voluntary, 
 and that they are determined by the rule of right 
 reason. But actions and moral states are not voluntary 
 in the same sense. For while we are masters of our 
 actions from beginning to end, inasmuch as we know 
 the particulars, we are masters only of the beginning 
 of our moral states ; we do not perceive the particular 
 steps by which they advance, as we do not perceive 
 the particular steps in diseases. But as it was in our 
 
 Moral power to act in one way or another, our moral states 
 are voluntary. 
 
 Let us then resume consideration of the several 
 virtues and discuss their nature, the subjects with 
 
 virtues, which they deal and the way in which they deal with 
 them. In so doing we shall ascertain their number. 
 
 Courage. We will begin with courage. 
 
 p. 49. It has been already stated in this treatise that 
 
 courage is a mean state in regard to sentiments of 
 fear and confidence. It is clear too that the things 
 which we fear are fearfiil ; but fearful things may be 
 
 voluntary. 
 Chap. IX. 
 The 
 
CHAP. IX. J OF ARISTOTLE. 79 
 
 broadly described as evil. Hence fear is sometime 
 defined as an anticipation of eviL 
 
 Now, although we fear all evil things, e.g. ignominy, 
 poverty, disease, friendlessness, and death, they do not 
 all afford scope for a display of courage. There are 
 some things which it is right and noble to fear, and 
 which it is disgraceful not to fear, e.g. ignominy ; for 
 to fear ignominy is to be virtuous and modest, and 
 not to fear it is to be shameless. A shameless person 
 is sometimes called courageous by a figure of speech, 
 as he possesses a certain similarity to a courageous 
 person ; for the courageous pei"son is also fearless. 
 
 It is wrong perhaps to fear poverty or sickness or 
 anything else that is not the consequence of vice or 
 of one's own fault. Still fearlessness in regard to 
 these things is not necessarily courage, although we 
 speak of a person who is fearless in regard to them as 
 courageous by analogy; for there are some people 
 who are cowardly in military perils, and yet are 
 liberal and confident in throwing money away. On 
 the other hand a person is not a coward, if he fears 
 insult offered to his children or his wife, or if he fears 
 envy or any such thing, nor is he courageous, if he is 
 brave in the prospect of a fiogging. 
 
 We must inquire then what is the character of 
 the fearful things in regard to which a courageous 
 man exhibits his courage. It may be supposed that 
 they will be the worst kind of fearful things; for 
 nobody is better able to face dangers than the 
 courageous man. But nothing is so fearful as death ; 
 for death is a limit, and when a man is dead, it 
 seems that he is no more liable to good or evil. But 
 
80 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 it would seem not to be on all occasions that a man 
 proves his courage by facing death itself; he does 
 not prove it, e.g. by facing death at sea or from 
 disease. What are these occasions then ? Surely the 
 noblest occasions, i.e. such occasions as present them- 
 selves in war ; for that is the greatest and noblest of 
 perils. It is in agreement with this view that special 
 honours are paid, alike in free states and in mon- 
 archies, to citizens who have died on the field of 
 battle. 
 
 Strictly speaking then, we may call a person 
 courageous, if he is fearless in facing a noble death, 
 and in aU such sudden emergencies as bring death 
 near, and therefore especially in facing the chances of 
 war. Still the courageous man is fearless in disease 
 and at sea too, although not in the same way as 
 seamen ; for while landsmen despair of safety and are 
 distressed at the prospect of a watery grave, the 
 experience which seamen possess makes them san- 
 guine. It may be added that people display courage 
 on occasions when prowess is possible or death is 
 glorious ; but in death at sea or from disease there 
 is no room for courage or glory. 
 Chap. X. People do not aU feel the same things to be 
 Fear. fearful. There are indeed things which we regard as 
 exceeding the power of human endurance. Such 
 things therefore excite fear in every intelligent per- 
 son; biit things which do not exceed the power of 
 endurance are of various magnitudes and degrees, 
 and the same is true of such things as inspire confi- 
 dence. The courageous man is imperturbable so far 
 as a man may be. Hence although he will fear such 
 
CHAP. X.] OF AEISTOTLE. 81 
 
 things he •will face them in the right manner and in a 
 rational spirit for the sake of what is noble, as this is 
 the end of virtue. 
 
 But it is possible to fear these things too much or 
 too little, and also to fear the things which are not 
 fearful as if they were so. Mistakes occur because 
 the fear is itself wrong, or because it is wrong in 
 maimer or time or so on, and it is the same with the 
 things which inspire confidence. 
 
 Thus he who faces and fears the right things for 
 the right motive and in the right way and at the right 
 time, and whose confidence is similarly right, is 
 courageous ; for the courageous man in his emotions 
 and actions has a sense of fitness and obeys the law 
 of reason. But the end of every activity that a man 
 displays is determined by the corresponding moral 
 state. To the courageous man courage is noble; 
 therefore the end or object of courage is also noble, 
 for the character of everything is determined by its 
 end. It is for the sake of what is noble then that the 
 courageous man faces and does aU that courage de- 
 mands. 
 
 In regard to the excesses there is no name for a 
 person whose fearlessness is excessive; it is one of 
 the many qualities which, as has been already?. 49. 
 remarked, have no names ; but he would deserve to 
 be called insane or insensible if there were nothing 
 that he feared, not even an earthquake or a storm at 
 sea, as is said to be the case with the Celts. One 
 who is excessively confident in facing fearful things is 
 called foolhardy. The foolhardy person may be re- fooI- 
 garded as an impostor, and as one who affects a^"^™®^^* 
 w. N. E. 6 
 
82 THE ISrieOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 courage that he does not possess. Accordingly he 
 wishes to appear to face fearful things in the spirit in 
 which the courageous man really does face them; 
 therefore he imitates him so far as he safely can. It 
 follows that most foolhardy people are cowards at 
 heart; for although they exhibit a foolhardy spirit 
 where they safely can, they refuse to face real terrors. 
 
 Cowardice. One whose fearfiilness is excessive, on the other 
 hand, is a coward; for he fears the wrong things and 
 fears them in the wrong way, and so on. He is 
 deficient too in confidence ; but he reveals his charac- 
 ter rather by his excess of fear in the presence of 
 pain. The coward is a despondent sort of person, as 
 being afraid of everything. It is the contrary with 
 the courageous person; for it is natural to a confi- 
 dent person to be sanguine. Thus the coward, the 
 foolhardy person, and the courageous person, while 
 they have to do with the same things, assume different 
 attitudes towards them. For while the two first go 
 too far or not far enough, the third holds the inter- 
 mediate position, which is right. Also, while the 
 foolhardy are precipitate and eager before the hour 
 of danger, they fail in its presence, but the courageous 
 are keen in action, although they are quiet before the 
 hour of action arrives. 
 
 Chap. XI. Couragc then, as has been said, is a mean state in 
 
 of courage, regard to the causes of confidence and fear, in such 
 circumstances as have been described; and it chooses 
 action or endures pain because this is the noble 
 course or because the opposite course is disgraceful. 
 
 Suicide. But it is the act, not of a courageous person, but 
 rather of a coward, to fly from poverty or love, or 
 
CHAP. XI.] OP ARISTOTLE. 83 
 
 anything that is painful, by death. For it is effemi- 
 nacy to fly from troubles, nor does the suicide face 
 death because it is noble, but because it is a refuge 
 from evil. 
 
 Such then is, in general terms, the nature of Spnrions 
 courage ; but there are other alleged kinds of cour- o^lge. 
 age which may be ranged under five different heads. 
 
 There is first political or civil courage. This is i. Political 
 the most nearly akin to true courage ; for it seems "°°^^®- 
 that citizens are induced to face dangers by the 
 penalties and censures which the laws inflict and by 
 the honours which they confer. This is the reason 
 why those are apparently the most courageous nations 
 in which cowards are held in contempt, and courage- 
 ous people in honour. Homer represents persons 
 of this kind, such as Diomedes and Hector. Thus 
 Hector says, 
 
 "Polydamas will be the first to lay reproach on meV' 
 and Diomedes, 
 
 "Hector shall one day say among the Trojans 
 'Tydides by mine armV" 
 
 This courage bears the closest resemblance to the 
 courage which has been already described, as its 
 motive is virtue, or in other words a sense of honour, 
 and a longing for what is noble, i.e. for distinction, 
 and an avoidance of reproach as being disgraceful. 
 We may place in the same rank with it the courage of 
 
 ' Iliad xxiL 100. 
 
 ' Hiad Tax. 148, 149. The quotation would have been 
 clearer if the concluding words of the second line, ^o^evficvos 
 txero vrjas, had been given. 
 
 6—2 
 
84 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 people who are compelled by superior authority to act 
 in the same way ; but they are inferior, as the motive 
 of their conduct is not a sense of honour but fear, 
 and an avoidance not of disgrace but of pain. For 
 superiors employ compulsion, as when Hector says, 
 
 "The man whom I find crouching far from fight 
 Shall not avail to escape the hounds^." 
 
 It is the same with commanders who station their 
 troops and flog them if they retreat, or who draw 
 them up with trenches or such things at their back^ 
 These are all cases in which compulsion is employed; 
 but we ought to be courageous not because courage 
 is compulsory, but because it is noble. 
 2. Experi- Secondly, it would seem that experience of parti- 
 cular things is a sort of courage. Hence it was that 
 Socrates himself conceived courage to be knowledge. 
 The people who possess this experience are different 
 in different cases. In war they are the regular 
 troops ; for it seems that there are many false alarms 
 in war, and regular troops are best able to compre- 
 hend such alarms at a glance. The result is that 
 they appear to be courageous because other people 
 do not understand the nature of such alarms. Then 
 their experience makes them most effective in attack 
 and in defence, as they understand the use of their 
 arms and possess such arms as will be most service- 
 
 1 Iliad ir. 391, 393, xv. 348. In neither passage are the 
 words exactly as here j but in the former they are closely similar, 
 although it is Agamemnon who speaks them, and in the latter 
 Hector is the speaker. 
 
 ' So as to make escape di£5cult or impossible. 
 
 ence. 
 
CHAP. XT.] OF AHISTOTLE. 85 
 
 able alike in attack and in defence. Thus in battle 
 they are like armed men contending against unarmed, 
 and trained athletes against people who have had no 
 special training; for even in athletic competitions it 
 is not the most courageous men who are the best 
 combatants, but the men who are strongest and whose 
 bodies are in the best physical condition. But regular 
 troops turn cowards when the danger is overpowering 
 and they are inferior in number and appointment. 
 At such a time they are the first to fly, while the 
 citizens remain at their posts and die, as in fact 
 happened at the temple of Hermes'. For while the 
 citizens look upon flight as disgraceful, and prefer 
 death to such a means of safety, the regulars who 
 met the danger in the first instance under the con- 
 viction of their own superior strength, as soon as 
 they discover the truth, take to flight, being more 
 afi'aid of death than of disgrace. But that is not 
 the character of true courage. 
 
 Again, a passionate spirit^ is sometimes reckoned 3. Passion. 
 as a kind of courage. It is supposed that people who 
 under the influence of passion turn like wild beasts 
 upon those who have wounded them are courageous, 
 because courageous people are themselves spirited or 
 passionate. For passion is preeminently eager to 
 
 ^ According to the Scholiast it happened in the sacred war 
 that in an engagement which took place at the 'Ep/xmov the 
 Coronean citizens were killed to a man, but their Boeotian 
 auxiliaries, who were regular soldiers, fled in a panic. 
 
 * The word 6vfi6s may mean either " spirit " or "passion," and 
 I have tried to preserve the balance of the two meanings. 
 
86 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 encounter perils. Hence Homer says, 
 
 "He lent strength to his passion^," 
 
 "He roused his might and passion V 
 
 "Fierce might breathed through his nostrils V' 
 
 and 
 
 and 
 
 and 
 
 "His blood boiled V 
 
 all such being signs which seem to indicate the stir 
 and impulse of passion, Now courageous people are 
 moved to action by nobleness, although passion co- 
 operates with them ; wild beasts, on the other hand, 
 are moved by pain, i.e. they are moved by being shot 
 or terrified ; for if they are in a forest or a marsh, 
 they do not come near man. They do not deserve to 
 be called courageous because they are goaded by 
 pain and passion to rush upon peril without any 
 JForesight of the dangers which they incur. For if 
 this were courage, asses themselves would be courage- 
 ous when they are hungry, as blows cannot drive 
 them away from their food. Adulterers too are often 
 driven by their lust to do adventurous deeds. But to 
 
 ^ The nearest passage is Iliad xvi. 529; but nivos, not 
 (jSevos, is read there. 
 
 2 Apparently Iliad v. 470 ; but the words are arpwe (livos 
 Km Bvjiov iKotrrov. 
 
 ' Apparently Odyssey xxiv. 318, 
 
 ava plvas Sc oi i^fSi; 
 hpifiii jihos irpoiTtnjfe, 
 * Not in Homer. 
 
 It may be permitted me to observe here how viery lax is the 
 idea of a quotation in all ancient literature, sacred and profane. 
 
CHAP. XI.] OF ARISTOTLE. 87 
 
 be goaded by pain or passion into facing perils is not 
 to be courageous. Yet it seems that the courage 
 arising from passion is the most natural kind of 
 courage, and that if a right purpose and motive are 
 added to it, it becomes tnie courage. 
 
 Men feel pain in anger and pleasure in revenge ; 
 but if their motive in fighting is to gain pleasure and 
 escape pain, they are not courageous, however well 
 they may fight, as their motive is not nobleness, nor 
 their principle reason, but emotion. Still there is a 
 certain resemblance between them and courageous 
 people. 
 
 Nor again are sanguine people courageous, as it *• .s*°- 
 is only their numerous victories over a number of 
 enemies that inspire them with confidence in the face 
 of danger. Still they resemble courageous people, 
 inasmuch as both are confident ; but while the 
 confidence of the courageous arises from such causes 
 as have been already defined, that of the sanguine 
 arises from a belief in their own superiority, and in 
 their probable immunity from sufiering\ (It may be 
 observed that intoxicated people behave in this sort 
 of way, for intoxication renders them sanguine^) 
 But when the result does not correspond with their 
 expectation, these people turn tail, whereas a courage- 
 ous person, as we know, is one who faces such things 
 as inspire and are seen to inspire fear in a man, 
 because it is noble to face them and disgraceful not 
 to face them. Hence it seems more courageous to be 
 fearless and cool amidst sudden alarms than amid 
 
 1 Beading iir/Bev av iraffeiv. 
 
 ^ An incidental remark, in the nature of a footnote. 
 
88 THE NICOMACHEAIT ETHICS [bOOK III, 
 
 such as have been foreseen ; for fearlessness of the 
 former kind is more the outcome of a moral state or at 
 least is less the outcome of premeditation. For while 
 the resolution to meet such perils as are foreseen 
 may be the result of calculation and reasoning, the 
 resolution to meet sudden perils depends upon the 
 moral state. 
 5. ignor- Lastly, people who are ignorant of their danger 
 
 ^^'^' appear courageous, nor indeed are they very different 
 from sanguine people, although they are inferior to 
 them, as having no self-esteem. It is self-esteem 
 which makes the sanguine hold their ground for, a 
 certain time ; but the ignorant, being the victims of 
 deception, if they discover or suspect that the case is 
 not as they supposed, turn to flight, as happened to 
 the Argives' when they fell in with the Lacedae- 
 monians, whom they took to be Sicyonians. 
 
 We have now described the character of coura- 
 geous people, and of people who are sometimes 
 thought to be courageous. 
 Chap. XII. Although courage is concerned with sentiments of 
 fourag"to confidence and fear, it is not equally concerned with 
 pieasnre both, but chiefly with the causes of fear. For he 
 who is cool in the circumstances, and shows a proper 
 spirit on the occasions, >rhich excite fear is more 
 truly courageous than he who shows a proper spirit 
 on the occasions which inspire confidence, 
 p. 79. It is endurance of painful things, as has been said, 
 
 that entitles people to be called courageous. Hence 
 it is that courage is painful, and is justly a subject of 
 praise ; for it is more difficult to endure pains than 
 1 The story is told by Xenophon, Hellenica it. ch. 10. 
 
CHAP. XII.] OF AHISTOTLE. 89 
 
 to abstain from pleasures. At the same time it 
 would seem that the end which courage proposes to 
 itself is pleasant, but that it is obscured by attendant 
 circumstances, as happens also in gymnastic contests. 
 For while the end or object which boxers have in 
 view, viz. the crown and the honour, is pleasant, the 
 blows which they receive, and all their exertions, are 
 painful and grievous to flesh and blood, and, as these 
 are numerous, while the object or prize itself is small, 
 it appears not to afford any pleasure. 
 
 If then the case in regard to courage is similar 
 to this, death and wounds will be painflil to the 
 courageous man and involuntary ; but he will endure 
 them because endurance is honourable and avoidance 
 disgraceful. Nay, in proportion as he possesses virtue 
 in its fulness, and is happy, will be his pain at the 
 prospect of death ; for to such an one life is pre- 
 eminently valuable, and he will be consciously de- 
 prived at death of the greatest blessings. But pain- 
 ful as such deprivation is, he is none the less 
 courageous, nay perhaps he is even more courageous, 
 as he willingly sacrifices these blessings for noble 
 conduct on the field of battle. 
 
 It is not the case then that all the virtues imply a 
 pleasurable activity, except in so far as one attains to 
 the end. Still, it is true perhaps, after all, that 
 people who enjoy a happy life are not such good 
 soldiers as people who are less courageous but have 
 nothing to lose, as these last are ready to face any 
 danger, and will sell their lives for a small sum of 
 money. 
 
 This may be taken as a sufficient accoimt of 
 
90 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 courage ; its nature may be easily comprehended, at 
 least in outline, from what has been said. 
 CHAP.xni. We will proceed to consider temperance, as it 
 ance^^' seems that courage and temperance are the yirtues of 
 
 the irrational parts of human nature, 
 p. 49. We have already said that temperance is a mean 
 
 state in respect of pleasures ; for it is not in the 
 same degree or manner concerned with pains. 
 Pleasure is also the sphere in which licentiousness 
 displays itself. 
 
 Let us therefore define now the character of these 
 pleasures. We will accept the distinction which is 
 commonly made between bodily and psychical or 
 mental pleasures, such as ambition and the love of 
 learning ; for he who is ambitious or fond of learning 
 takes pleasure in the object of which he is fond, 
 although it is not his body which is affected but his 
 mind. But where pleasures of this kind are in 
 question people are not called either temperate or 
 licentious. It is the same with all such other pleasures 
 as are not bodily. Thus people who are fond of 
 talking and of telling stories, and who spend their 
 days in trifling pursuits we call gossips, but we do 
 not call them licentious, nor do we call people licenti- 
 ous who feel pain at the loss of money or friends. 
 
 Temperance then wiU apply to bodily pleasures 
 only, but not to all even of these. For if people take 
 pleasure in gratifications of the sight, e.g. in colours, 
 forms, and painting, they are not called either 
 temperate or licentious. Yet it would seem possible 
 to take a right pleasure or an excessive or insufficient 
 pleasure in these things as well as in others. It is 
 
CHAP. XIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 91 
 
 the same with gratifications of the ear. Nobody 
 speaks of such people as take an excessive pleasxire 
 in music or acting as licentious, or of people who 
 take a right pleasure as temperate. Nor again do we 
 speak of people who enjoy gratifications of the smell 
 as licentious or temperate, except accidentally. Thus 
 we do not call people licentious if they take pleasure 
 in the smell of apples or roses or incense, but rather 
 if they take pleasure in the smell of unguents and 
 relishes ; for it is in these that a licentious person 
 takes pleasure, as they remind him of the objects of 
 his desire. It is true that we may see other people, 
 when they are hungry, taking pleasure in the smell of 
 food ; but it is only a licentious person who habitu- 
 ally takes pleasure in such things, as they are the 
 objects of his desire. 
 
 The lower animals again, are not, in general, 
 capable of the pleasures of these senses, except 
 accidentally. Dogs, e.g. do not take pleasure in 
 scenting hares' flesh but only in eating it, although 
 the smell gives them the sensation of eating. Again, 
 a lion takes pleasure not in hearing an ox's lowing', 
 but in devouring the ox, although, as it is the lowing 
 by which he perceived that the ox is near, he appears 
 to take pleasure in the lowing. Similarly it is not 
 the sight or discovery of a stag or wild goat that gives 
 him pleasure, but the prospect of a meal. 
 
 Temperance and licentiousness then have to do Licentious- 
 with pleasures of such a kind as the lower animals 
 generally are capable of, and it is hence that these 
 pleasures appear slavish and brutish. They are the 
 ^ ^oi/g is a misprint for <l>av^. 
 
92^ THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 pleasures of the touch and the taste.' It appears that 
 the taste comes little, if at all, into question ; for it is 
 the taste which judges of flavours, as when people 
 test wines or season dishes, but it is in no sense this 
 judgment of flavours which gives pleasure, at least to 
 such people as are licentious, but rather the actual 
 enjoyment of them, and the medium of enjoyment is 
 invariably the sense of touch, whether in meats or in 
 drinks or in what are called the pleasures of love. 
 This was the reason why a certain gourmand prayed 
 that his throat might become longer than a crane's, 
 showing that his pleasure was derived from the 
 sense of touch. Thus the sense of which incontinence 
 is predicable is the most universal of the senses. It 
 would seem too that incontinence is justly censurable, 
 as it is a characteristic not of our human, but of our 
 animal, nature. To take delight and supreme satis- 
 faction in such things is brutish ; for the most liberal 
 or refined of the pleasures of the touch, such as the 
 pleasures of rubbing and of taking a hot bath in the 
 gymnasium, are denied to the profligate, as the sense 
 of touch which an incontinent man cultivates belongs, 
 not to the whole body, but only to certain parts of it. 
 Desires It seems that some desires are universal and others 
 
 nnnrersa ^^^ individual and acquired. Thus the desire of food 
 indiTiduai. jg g^ natural desire. Everybody who feels want desires 
 meat or drink or perhaps both. A young man, too, in 
 the prime of life, says Homer', desires the love of a 
 woman. But it is not equally true that everybody 
 desires a particular form of gratification, or the same 
 
 1 The reference seems to be to Hiad xxiv. 129, the words 
 addressed by Thetis to Achilles. 
 
CHAP. XUI.] OF ARISTOTLE. 93 
 
 forms. Hence the particular desire is peculiar to our- 
 selves or individttal. Nevertheless, there is some- 
 thing natural in it ; for although different people are 
 pleased by different things, yet there are some things 
 which are pleasanter to all people than others. 
 
 Now in respect of such desires as are natural 
 there are but few people who make a mistake, and 
 their mistake is always on one side, viz. that of 
 excess. For to eat or drink anything to the point of 
 surfeit is to exceed the natural limit of quantity, as 
 the natural desire does not go beyond the satisfaction 
 of our want. Accordingly such persons are called 
 gluttons because they go beyond what is right in 
 satisfying their want. It is only exceedingly slavish 
 people who behave in this way. 
 
 In regard to such pleasures as are individual there 
 are many people who go wrong, and they go wrong 
 in many different ways. For if people are said to be 
 unduly fond of particular things, either as taking 
 pleasure in wrong things or as taking more pleasure 
 than ordinary people' or as taking pleasure in a 
 wrong way, the excess of which the licentious are 
 guilty may assume all these forms. For they take 
 pleasure in some things which are detestable and 
 therefore wrong, and if these are things»in which it is 
 right to take pleasure; they take a greater pleasure 
 in them than is right or than most people take*. 
 
 It is clear then that excess in respect of pleasures 
 is licentiousness, and that it properly is a subject of 
 
 ' The eu'y may probably be retained, but the text should be 
 J) Tffl fiSXkov Tf as ol troXXot, without the comma after fioKkov. 
 ' Omitting the comma after bet 
 
94 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 censure. But in respect of pains there is this 
 diflference between temperance and courage. A 
 person is not called temperate if he bears pains 
 bravely, and incontinent if he does not; but the 
 incontinent person is so called because he feels more 
 pain than is right at not obtaining pleasures, his 
 pleasure being the cause of his pain, and the tempe- 
 rate man is so called because he is not pained at the 
 absence of pleasure and at his abstinence from it. 
 Chap. XIV. The licentious man then desires all pleasures, or the 
 greatest pleasures, and is led by his desire to prefer 
 these to anything else. He feels a double pain 
 therefore, viz. the pain of failing to obtain them and 
 the pain of desiring them, as aU desire is attended by 
 pain. Yet it seems paradoxical to assert that his 
 pleasure is the cause of his pain. 
 
 We never find people whose love of pleasures is 
 deficient and whose delight in them is less than it 
 ought to be. Such insensibility to pleasures is not 
 human; for even the lower animals distinguish 
 difierent kinds of food, liking some and disliking 
 others. A being who should not take pleasure in 
 anything, nor make any difierence between one thing 
 and another, would be far from being a man. But 
 there is no name for such a being, as he never exists. 
 Character '^^ temperate man holds a mean position in 
 of the respect of pleasures. He takes no pleasure in the 
 
 temperate . . i . , , i 
 
 man. thmgs m which the licentious man takes most pleasure ; 
 he rather dislikes them; nor does he take pleasure 
 at all in wrong things nor an excessive pleasure in 
 anything that is pleasant, nor is he pained at the 
 absence of such things, nor does he desire them. 
 
CHAP. XV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 95 
 
 except perhaps in moderation, nor does he desire 
 them more than is right, or at the wrong time, and so 
 on. But he will be eager in a moderate and right 
 spirit for all such things as are pleasant and at the 
 same time conducive to health or to a sound bodily 
 condition, and for all other pleasures, so long as they 
 are not prejudicial to these or inconsistent with noble 
 conduct or extravagant beyond his means. For unless 
 a person limits himself in this way, he affects such 
 pleasures more than is right, whereas the temperate 
 man follows the guidance of right reason. 
 
 Licentiousness seems to have more the character chap. xv. 
 of voluntary action than cowardice, as the former is Licentious- 
 due to pleasure, and the latter to pain ; and whereas luntary 
 pleasure is something that we choose, pain is some- ^warcUoe. 
 thing that we avoid. Also, while pain distracts and 
 destroys the nature of one who suffers it, pleasure 
 has no such effect, but rather leaves the will free. 
 Hence licentiousness deserves more severe reproach 
 than cowardice ; for it is easier to train oneself to 
 meet its temptations as they frequently occur in life, 
 nor does the training involve any danger, whereas the 
 contrary is the case in meeting alarms. 
 
 It would seem too that cowardice as a moral state 
 is not voluntary in the same degree as particular acts 
 of cowardice. For cowardice in itself is painless, but 
 particular acts of cowardice occur because people are 
 so utterly driven out of their wits by pain that they 
 throw away their arms and disgrace themselves 
 generally, and this is the reason why such acts have 
 the appearance of being compulsory. In the case of 
 the licentious man on the other hand, the particular 
 
96 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK III. 
 
 acts are voluntary, as he eagerly desires them, but 
 licentiousness as a whole is not so voluntary, as 
 nobody desires to be licentious. 
 
 We apply the term "licentiousness" (aKoXaa-ia), 
 to the faults of children as well as to those of grown- 
 up people, as there is a certain similarity between 
 them. It does not matter to my present purpose 
 which of the two kinds of faults is named after the 
 other; but it is clear that the later is named after 
 the earlier'. 
 
 The metaphor^ (in the word aKoXaaia) is not, it 
 seems, a bad one. For that which is prone to dis- 
 graceful things, and capable of rapid growth, stands 
 in need of pruning or chastisement (jceKoKdaOaL Set), 
 but such proneness and such growth are preeminently 
 characteristic of desire or of childhood ; for children, 
 like licentious people, live by desire and not by 
 reason, and the longing for pleasure is nowhere so 
 strong as in them. If then this disposition is not 
 obedient and subject to authority, it will greatly 
 develope. For the longing for pleasure which a 
 foolish person has is insatiable and universal, and the 
 active exercise of the desire augments its native 
 strength, until the desires, if they are strong or 
 vehement, actually expel the reasoning power. They 
 ought therefore to be moderate and few, and in no 
 way contrary to reason. But we speak of such a 
 
 1 If the word " licentious" were used of a child in English, it 
 would, I think, be used with a certaiu reservation. 
 
 ^ The observation, which cannot be translated into English, 
 depends upon the etymological connexion between axoKaa-ia 
 " licentiousness " and KoXaa-is " chastisement." 
 
CHAP. XV.] OF AEISTOTLE. 97 
 
 disposition as obedient and chastened ; for as a child 
 oaght to live according to the direction of his tutor' 
 so ought the concupiscent element in man to live 
 according to the reason. In the temperate man then 
 the concupiscent element ought to live in harmony 
 with the reason, as nobleness is the object of them 
 both, and the temperate man desires what is right, 
 and desires it in the right way, and at the right time, 
 i.e. according to the law of reason. We may now 
 bring our discussion of temperance to a close. 
 
 ^ It will be understood that the waiSayayos was not so much a 
 "tutor" in the modem sense as the confidential servant who took 
 charge of a child. 
 
 W. N. E. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 Chap. I. The next Virtue to be considered is liberality. Liber- 
 Liberahty. ^^jj^y gggjjjg ^q Y)e a mean state in regard to property. 
 For the liberal man wins praise, not in war, nor in 
 the same sphere as the temperate man, nor again in 
 respect of his judgments, but in regard to the giving 
 and taking of property and particularly in giving it. 
 By property we understand all such things as have 
 Prodi- their value measured by money. Prodigality and 
 miberaiity. iUiberality are excesses and deficiencies in regard to 
 property. We invariably apply the term "illiber- 
 ality" to people whose hearts are set more than is 
 right upon property, but we sometimes employ the 
 term "prodigality" in a complex sense, speaking of 
 people who are incontinent and who spend money 
 in licentious living as "prodigals." Prodigals there- 
 fore are held to be utterly worthless people as com- 
 bining in themselves a number of vices. But this is 
 not a proper application of the term "prodigal," it 
 strictly means a person who has one particular vice, 
 viz. that of wasting his substance, for a prodigal' is 
 
 ^ The statement that the prodigal (ao-uros) ruins himself 
 depends upon the derivation of aa-aros from d, a-d(fiv. 
 
CHAP. I.] THE ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. 99 
 
 one who is ruining himself, and to waste one's sub- 
 stance seems in a way to be ruining oneself, as this is 
 the only means of life. It is in this sense then that 
 we understand the term "prodigality." 
 
 Things which admit of use' may be used either 
 well or badly. But riches are a useful thing. Again, 
 the person who makes the best use of anything is the 
 person who possesses the virtue appropriate to that 
 thing. Accordingly he will make the best use of 
 riches who possesses the virtue which is appropriate 
 to property, i.e. the liberal man. Further it seems 
 that the use of property consists in spending and 
 giving ; the taking and keeping of property should 
 rather be described as acquisition. Hence it is more 
 truly distinctive of the liberal man to give to the 
 right people than to take from the right quarter and 
 not to take from the wrong quarter. For it is more 
 truly distinctive of virtue to be the author than to be 
 the recipient of benefactions, and to do what is noble 
 than to abstain from doing what is shameful. But it 
 is clear that, while giving implies doing well and 
 acting nobly, taking implies only being well treated 
 or not behaving in a shameful manner. Gratitude 
 too is the due of one who gives, not of one who does 
 not take, and praise is his due in a higher degree. 
 Also, it is easier to abstain from taking than to give, 
 for people are less ready to throw away what is their 
 own than to abstain from taking what belongs to 
 somebody else. Again, people who give are called 
 
 1 Xpfi"! XPl"'^'"! XPIo^'fo^j XP'7/""'°j ^11 words occurring in this 
 passage, are etymologically connected. 
 
 7—2 
 
100 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 liberal, people who abstain from taking are not 
 praised for liberality so much as for justice, but 
 people who take are not praised at all. Of all virtu- 
 ous people none are so much beloved as the liberal ; 
 for they are benefactors, and their benefaction consists 
 in their giving. 
 Chap. II. Virtuous actions are noble and have a noble 
 istics^of^'^ motive. The liberal man, being virtuous, then will 
 Uberaiity. gj^g ^qjjj ^ noblc motive and in a right spirit ; for he 
 will give the right amount, and will give it to the 
 right persons and at the right time, and will satisfy all 
 the other conditions of right giving. He will do all 
 this too with pleasure or without pain ; for a virtuous 
 action is pleasant or painless, and it is certainly any- 
 thing but painful. But he who gives to the wrong 
 people, or who gives not from a noble motive but for 
 some other cause, will not be called liberal, but by some 
 other name ; nor will he be so called, if giving is pain- 
 ful to him, as in that case he would prefer the wealth to 
 the noble action, and this preference is illiberal. Nor 
 will the liberal man take from wrong sources ; for 
 such taking, again, is unlike the character of one who 
 is no admirer of property. Nor, again, will he be 
 inclined to ask favours ; for one who is in the habit of 
 conferring benefits will not be ready at any moment 
 to receive them. When he does take, it will be from 
 right sources, e.g. from his own possessions, and he 
 will take not as if taking were noble, but because it is 
 necessary, if he is to have the means of giving. He 
 will not neglect his own property since he wishes to 
 employ it in relieving other people. He will refrain 
 from giving indiscriminately that he may have the 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 101 
 
 means of giving to the right people, and at the times 
 and in the places where giving is noble. 
 
 If a man is excessively liberal, he will actually go 
 too far in his giving, the result being that he will 
 reserve too little for himself; for disregard of self 
 is a characteristic of liberality. But in estimating 
 liberality we must take account of a person's fortune ; 
 for liberality consists, not in the amount of the 
 money given, but in the moral state of the giver', 
 and the moral state proportions the gift to the 
 fortune of the giver. It is quite possible then that 
 one who gives less than another may be more liberal, 
 if his means are smaller. It seems that people who 
 have not made their own fortune, but have inherited 
 it, are more liberal, as they have never known what 
 want is, and people are always fondest of their own 
 productions, e.g. parents of their children, and poets 
 of their poems. 
 
 It is difficult for a liberal man to be rich, as he is 
 not fond of getting or of saving money, but rather of 
 spending it, and values wealth not for its own sake, 
 but as affording an opportunity of giving. Hence it 
 is a reproach often levelled against fortune that the 
 people who deserve riches most have often the least. 
 But the fact is easily explained ; for it is impossible 
 to have wealth or anything else without taking the 
 trouble to have it. At the same time the liberal man 
 will not give to the wrong people, or on any wrong 
 occasion, and so on ; for to do so would be to cease 
 to act in a liberal spirit, and if he were to spend 
 
 ' As in the parable of the widow's two mites. 
 
 ■m 
 
102 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 money upon these objects, he would not have the 
 means of spending it upon the right objects. For the 
 liberal man, as has been said, is one who spends in 
 proportion to his substance, and who spends upon 
 the right objects. But one who spends in excess of 
 his fortune is a prodigal. Hence it is that we do not 
 call despots prodigals, as it does not seem easy for 
 them to exceed the amount of their property by their 
 gifts and expenses. 
 
 As liberality is a mean state in regard to the 
 giving and taking of property, the liberal man will 
 both give and spend on the right objects and to the 
 right amount, whether in small matters or in great, 
 and will feel pleasure in doing so. He will also take 
 from the right sources and to the right amount. For 
 as the virtue is a mean state in regard both to giving 
 and to taking, he will do both in the right manner. 
 For honourable taking is consistent with honourable 
 giving ; but such taking as is not honourable is 
 incompatible with it. Thus the giving and taking 
 which are consistent are found to exist together in 
 the same person, but the giving and taking which are 
 incompatible are clearly not so found. 
 
 If it happens that the liberal man spends more or 
 less than is right and noble, he will feel pain, but it 
 wiU be a moderate and right pain ; for virtue 
 naturally feels pleasure and pain on the right occa- 
 sions and in the right manner. 
 
 Again, the liberal man is easy to deal with in 
 money matters. He is one who can easily be cheated, 
 as he does not care for money, and is more distressed 
 at not having spent what is right than pained at 
 
CHAP. III.] OF ARISTOTLE. 103 
 
 having spent what is not right ; in fact he is a person 
 who does not approve of Simonides'. 
 
 The prodigal on the other hand goes wrong in Chap. in. 
 these respects as in others; for he does not feel^^*^' 
 pleasure or pain at the right causes or in the right 
 manner, as we shall see more clearly when we 
 proceed. 
 
 We have said that prodigality and illiberality are 
 excesses and deficiencies, and that they are so in two 
 respects, viz. in giving and taking, for we reckon 
 spending as a form of giving. Prodigality then 
 exceeds in giving and not taking, but is deficient in 
 taking. Illiberality is deficient in giving and exceeds 
 in taking, but is deficient and exceeds in giving and 
 taking on a small scale. 
 
 Now the two characteristics of prodigality viz. 
 giving cmd not taMng, are seldom combined in the 
 same person. It is not easy for a person, if he has no 
 source of revenue, to give to everybody ; for private 
 persons, if they give in this way, soon find that their 
 property runs short, and it is private persons who 
 are commonly called prodigals. A prodigal of this 
 kind however, if he existed, would seem to be far 
 superior to an illiberal person ; for his faults are 
 easily cured by age and lack of property, and he is 
 capable of attaining to the mean or intermediate 
 state. In fact he possesses the characteristics of a 
 liberal man, as he gives and does not take, although 
 
 1 There are several dicta of Simonides, such as those which 
 Sir A. Grant quotes, showing his appreciation of wealth, Cp. 
 Bhetoric ii. ch. 16, p. 1391 Aj.jj. 
 
104 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 in neither respect is his action right or good. If he 
 were to be trained aright or otherwise reformed, he 
 would be liberal ; for then he would give to the right 
 people, and would not take from the wrong sources. 
 It seems then that his character is not a bad one ; for 
 it is not a vicious or ignoble nature, but a foolish one, 
 which exceeds in giving and in abstinence from taking. 
 A prodigal of this kind seems to be far superior to an 
 illiberal person, not only for the reasons which have 
 been given but because the former does good to many 
 people while the latter does good to nobody, not even 
 to himself. But most prodigals, as has been said, not 
 only give to the wrong people but take from the 
 wrong sources, and are so far illiberal. They become 
 grasping because they are eager to spend, and are 
 not able to do so easily, as their means soon run 
 short ; they are therefore obliged to get the means 
 from other sources. At the same time as nobleness 
 is a matter of indiflference to them, they are reckless 
 and indiscriminate in their taking ; for they are eager 
 to give but they do not care at all how they give or 
 how they get the means of giving. The result is that 
 their very gifts are not liberal, as they are not noble 
 in themselves or in their object or made in the right 
 manner. These prodigals sometimes enrich people 
 who ought to be poor, and, while they will not give a 
 penny to persons of respectable character, they heap 
 presents upon their flatterers or the ministers of their 
 various pleasures. Thus they are generally licentious ; 
 for as they are fond of spending, they squander 
 money on licentious living among other things, and 
 as nobleness is not the rule of their lives, they sink 
 
CHAP. III.J OF ARISTOTLE. 105 
 
 into being mere pleasure seekers. A prodigal then, 
 if left destitute of guidance, commits these vagaries, 
 but by careful training he may come to the mean or 
 right state of life. 
 
 IlliberaHty on the other hand is incurable ; for it ruiber- 
 seems that old age and impotence of any kind makes ^' 
 men illiberal. Also it runs in human nature more 
 than prodigality ; for most people are fonder of 
 money than of giving money away. It is of wide 
 extent too, and assumes numerous forms ; there seem 
 to be many aspects of illiberaUty. For as it consists 
 in two things, viz. deficiency of giving and excess of 
 taking, it is not always found in its entirety. It 
 sometimes happens that the two parts are separated, 
 and while some people go too far in taking, others do 
 not go far enough in giving. The people who are 
 described by such names as "niggards," "misers," 
 and "curmudgeons," are aU deficient in giving, but 
 they do not covet or wish to take other people's 
 property. They are influenced in some cases by a 
 sense of equity, and a desire of avoiding disgrace ; 
 for there are some people who seem, or pretend, to 
 hoard their money with the view of securing them- 
 selves against ever being compelled to do wj^at is 
 disgracefiil. This is the class of skinflints, and all 
 such people whose names are derived from an exces- 
 sive unwillingness to give to anybody. Others again 
 are induced to abstain from taking other people's 
 property by fear, feeling that it is difficult for them 
 to take other people's property without having their 
 own property taken by other people ; hence they 
 choose neither to take nor to give. Others again go 
 
106 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 too far in taking by taking anything from anybody, 
 e.g. such people as pursue illiberal' or degraded 
 occupations, keepers of brothels and the like, and 
 usurers who lend small sums of money at extortionate 
 rates of interest. AU these are people who take 
 money from wrong sources, and take more than is 
 right. It appears that a sordid love of gain is the 
 common characteristic of them all, as they all con- 
 sent to bear an evil name for the sake of gain, and 
 this a trifling gain ; for if people take large sums 
 from improper sources or of an improper kind, we do 
 not call them illiberal. Thus we do not so speak of 
 despots when they sack cities and plunder temples ; 
 we rather speak of them as wicked, impious, and 
 unjust. But cardsharpers, cutpurses' and robbers 
 are illiberal people, as making gain by sordid or 
 disgracefiil means ; for it is the love of gain which 
 makes both cardsharpers and robbers ply their busi- 
 ness and consent to bear an evil name. It is for 
 profit that robbers face the greatest dangers, and 
 cardsharpers make gain from their friends, to whom 
 they ought to give. Both classes, as wishing to make 
 gain from improper sources, may be said to have a 
 sordid or disgraceful love of gain, and all such forms 
 of taking are illiberal. 
 
 It is reasonable to regard illiberality as the oppo- 
 site of liberality ; for it is a greater evil than 
 
 1 The Greek word i\ev6cpos, like the English " liberal," may 
 mean either "generous" or " honourable," and Aristotle hardly 
 seems to be aware that he confuses the meanings. 
 
 ' The Greek word means one who steals the clothes of some- 
 body while he is bathing. 
 
CHAP. IV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 107 
 
 prodigality, and men are more likely to err on the 
 side of illiberaJity than in the direction of prodigality 
 as we have described it. This must suffice then, as 
 our account of liberality and of the vices which are 
 opposed to it. 
 
 It would seem natural to discuss magnificence Chap. ly. 
 next, as magnificence' seems also to be a virtue ^nfe^' 
 which has to do with property. But it does not 
 extend, like liberality, to all the uses of property ; it 
 touches only such as involve a large expenditure, and 
 here it exceeds liberality in scale ; for as the name^ 
 itself suggests, magnificence is suitable expenditure 
 upon a great scale. But the greatness is relative to 
 the occasion ; for a person who fits out a trireme 
 does not incur the same expense as one who is the 
 head of a sacred legation. What is suitable then is 
 relative to the person, occasion and circumstances. 
 If a person spends money duly upon small or un- 
 important occasions, if he can say, e.g. in the poet's 
 words, 
 
 "Oft to a vagrant gave IK" 
 
 he is not called magnificent, but only if he makes 
 such an expenditure upon great occasions; for al- 
 though the magnificent person is liberal, it does not 
 follow that the liberal person is magnificent. 
 
 The deficiency of such a moral state is called Meanness, 
 meanness ; its excess vulgarity, bad taste, and the ^*" ^' 
 like, implying not so much an excessive expenditure 
 
 1 Beading avrri. 
 
 ' fieyaXoirpeireia.. 
 
 3 Odyssey xvii. 420. It is Odysseus who speaks. 
 
108 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 on right circumstances as an ostentatious expenditure 
 on wrong occasions and in a wrong manner. But of 
 this we will speak later. 
 
 The magnificent man is like a connoisseur in art ; 
 he has the faculty of perceiving what is suitable, and 
 p. 44. of spending large sums of money with good taste. 
 For as we said at the outset, a moral state is deter- 
 mined by its activities and its objects. The expenses 
 of the magnificent man then are large and suitable* ; 
 so too are his results ; for this is the only way in 
 which a large expenditure can at the same tirae be 
 suitable to its result. It follows that the result ought 
 to be worthy of the expenditure, and the expenditure 
 worthy of the result, or of an even greater result. 
 The motive of the magnificent man in incurring "this 
 expense will be nobleness ; for nobleness is a charac- 
 teristic of all the virtues. He will spend his money 
 too in a cheerful and lavish spirit, as a minute 
 calculation of expense is a mark of meanness. He 
 will consider how a work can be made most beautiful 
 and most suitable, rather than how much it will cost, 
 and how it can be done in the cheapest way. The 
 magnificent man will necessarily be liberal as well; 
 for the liberal man too will spend the right amount 
 of money and will spend it in the right manner. 
 But here the greatness, i.e. the great scale, of the 
 magnificent man, will appear, although liberality has 
 the same field as magnificence ; with equal expendi- 
 ture he will make the result more magnificent. For 
 the virtue or excellence of a possession is not the 
 
 ^ Again the argument turns upon the etymological meaning 
 of lieydKonpiitfia. 
 
CHAP, v.] OF AHISTOTLE. 109 
 
 same as that of a result or a work of art; for it is the 
 possession which is worth most that is the greatest prize 
 or honour, as e.g. gold, but a work of art is prized 
 for its greatness and nobleness. For the contempla- 
 tion of such a work excites admiration, and what is 
 magnificent is always admirable. In a word, magnifi- 
 cence is excellence of work on a great scale. 
 
 There is a kind of expenditure which we call Chap. v. 
 honourable, such as expenditure upon the Gods, votive of'^''"^! 
 oflerings, temples, and sacrifices, and similarly aUcence. 
 that appertains to divine worship, or upon the favourite 
 objects of patriotic rivalry, as when people consider it 
 their duty to supply a chorus or fit out a tiireme or 
 even to give a public dinner in a handsome style. 
 
 But in all these matters, as has been said, there p. loi. 
 must be a regard paid to the agent and his resources. 
 The expenditure ought to be worthy of him and his 
 resources, and to be suitable not only to the result 
 but to its author. It follows that a poor man cannot 
 be magnificent, as he does not possess the means of 
 spending large sums of money suitably. He is foolish 
 if he makes the attempt, as his expenditure will be 
 neither proportionate to his means nor proper in 
 itself, but unless a thing is done in a right way, it 
 cannot be virtuous. But magnificence is suitable to 
 people who are in possession of the necessary means, 
 whether they have acquired them by their own eflForts 
 or have inherited them from their ancestors or 
 connexions, and to persons of rank and reputation 
 and the like, as all these advantages confer importance 
 and dignity. 
 
 Such may be said to be, in general, the character 
 
110 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 of the magnificent man, and such, as has been said, 
 the expenditure in which his magnificence displays 
 itself; for this is the greatest and most honourable 
 kind of expenditure. It displays itself also on such 
 private occasions as occur once in a lifetime, e.g. 
 marriage and the like, or on any occasion of peculiar 
 interest to the state or the upper classes, or in 
 receiving foreigners and taking leave of them or in 
 making an interchange of presents; for the magni- 
 ficent man spends money not on himself but upon 
 public objects, and gifts have a certain similarity 
 to religious oflerings. Again, a magnificent man will 
 erect a house in a manner suitable to his wealth ; 
 for even a private house may be an ornament to the 
 city. He will prefer to spend his money upon such 
 works as are permanent, for none are so noble as 
 these, and in all these cases he will observe the law 
 of propriety ; for the same things are not appropriate 
 to gods and to men, or in building a temple and in 
 making a tomb. In his expenditure too, everything 
 wiU be great of its kind ; there is nothing so mag- 
 nificent as great expenditure on a great occasion, but, 
 when that is impossible, the next thing is such great- 
 ness as the particular occasion allows. 
 
 There is a diflerence between greatness in the 
 result and greatness in the expenditure. Thus the 
 most beautiful of balls or bottles has a certain 
 magnificence as a present for a child, although its 
 price is trifiing and paltry. It is characteristic then 
 of the magnificent man, whatever be the class of work 
 that he produces, to produce it in a magnificent way ; 
 for the result so produced cannot easily be surpassed. 
 
CHAP. VI.] OF ARISTOTLE. Ill 
 
 and it is proportionate to the expenditure made 
 upon it. 
 
 Such then being the character of the magnificent t)^*^- ti. 
 man, the man who is guilty of excess, or the Tulgar ^"^santy. 
 man, exceeds in spending more than is right, as has 
 been said ; for he spends large sums upon trifles and 
 makes a display which is ofifensive to good taste, as 
 e.g. by entertaining members of his club at a break- 
 fast which is as sumptuous as a wedding-breakfast, 
 or if he provides a comic chorus, by bringing the 
 members of it on to the stage in purple dresses, after 
 the manner of the Megarians. And all this he wiU 
 do, not from a noble motive, but merely to exhibit his 
 wealth, and because he thinks that it wiU win him 
 admiration. Where he ought to spend a great deal, 
 he will spend little, and where he ought to spend 
 little, he wiU spend a great deal. 
 
 The mean man, on the other hand, wiU be deficient Meanness. 
 on all occasions, and after an enormous expenditure, 
 will ruin the beauty of his work for a trifie, never 
 doing anything without hesitating about it, and con- 
 sidering how he can reduce his expenditure to a 
 minimum, and grieving over it and always imagining 
 he is doing things on a larger scale than is necessary. 
 
 Thus these moral states, viz. vulga/rity and mean- 
 ness, are vices, although they do not bring reproach 
 upon us, as they are not injurious to others nor 
 particularly indecorous. 
 
 Highmindedness', as its very name suggests, chap. vn. 
 
 Highmind- 
 ^ One cannot help regretting that " magnanimity," which is edness. 
 
 the precise English equivalent of fieyaXoi/rux'a, has come by 
 
 usage to bear a limited sense. 
 
112 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 seems to be occupied with high things. Let us begin 
 then by ascertaining the character of those things. It 
 makes no difference whether we consider the moral 
 state or the person in whom the moral state is seen. 
 
 A highminded person seems to be one who re- 
 gards himself as worthy of high things, and who is 
 worthy of them. For he who does so without being 
 worthy is foolish, and no virtuous person is foolish or 
 absurd. 
 
 Such then is the highminded person. One who is 
 worthy of smaU things, and who regards himself as 
 worthy of them, is temperate or sensible, but he is 
 not highminded; for highmindedness can only exist 
 on a large scale as beauty can only exist in a tall 
 person. Small people may be elegant and well pro- 
 portioned, but not beautiful. 
 
 He who regards himself as worthy of high things 
 and is unworthy of them is conceited, although it is 
 not eyeryone who takes an exaggerated view of his 
 own worth that is a conceited person. 
 
 He who takes too low a view of his own worth is 
 mean-minded', whether it be high things, or moderate, 
 or even small things that he is worthy of, so long as 
 he underrates his deserts. This would seem to be 
 especially a fault in one who is worthy of high 
 things ; for what would he do, it may be asked, if his 
 deserts were less than they are ? 
 
 The highminded man, while he holds an extreme 
 position by the greatness of his deserts, holds an 
 
 1 It would be desirable to use " lowmindedness " as the 
 opposite of "highmindedness," but the word has received an 
 inappropriate shade of meaning. 
 
CHAP. VII. J OP ARISTOTLE. 113 
 
 intermediate or mean position by the propriety of his 
 conduct, as he estimates his own deserts aright, while 
 others rate their deserts too high or too low. 
 
 But if then he regards himself as worthy of high 
 things, and is worthy of them, and especially if he is 
 worthy of the highest things, there will be one 
 particular object of his interest. Desert is a term 
 used in reference to external goods, but we should 
 naturally esteem that to be the greatest of external 
 goods which we attribute to the gods, or which 
 persons of high reputation most desire, or which is 
 the prize awarded to the noblest actions. But honour 
 answers to this description, as being the highest of 
 external goods. 
 
 The highminded man, then, bears himself in a 
 right spirit towards honours and dishonours. It 
 needs no proof that highminded people are concerned 
 with honour ; for it is honour more than anything else -^ 
 of which the great regard themselves, and deservedly 
 regard themselves, as worthy. The mean-minded man Mean- 
 underestimates himself both in respect of his own ness. 
 deserts and in comparison with the acknowledged 
 deserts of the highminded man. The conceited man Conceit. 
 overestimates his own deserts, but he does not estimate 
 his own deserts more highly than the highminded man. 
 
 The highminded man, as being worthy of the 
 highest things, will be in the highest degree good, for 
 the better man is always worthy of the highest things, 
 and the best man of the highest things. It follows 
 then that the truly highminded man must be good. 
 
 It would seem too that the highminded man 
 possesses such greatness as belongs to every virtue, 
 w. N. E. 8 
 
114 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 It would be wholly inconsistent with the character of 
 the highminded man to run away in hot haste, or to 
 commit a crime ; for what should be his object in 
 doing a disgraceful action, if nothing is great in his 
 eyes ? If one examines the several points of character, 
 it will appear quite ridiculous to say that the high- 
 minded man need not be good. Were he vicious, he 
 would not be worthy of honour at aU ; for honour is 
 the prize of virtue, and is paid to none but the good. 
 
 It seems then that highmindedness is, as it were, 
 the crown of the virtues, as it enhances them, and 
 cannot exist apart from them. Hence it is diflBcult 
 to be truly highminded, as it is impossible without 
 the perfection of good breeding. 
 
 A highminded man then is especially concerned 
 with honours and dishonours. He will be only 
 moderately pleased at great honours conferred upon 
 him by virtuous people, as feeling that he obtains 
 what is naturally his due or even less than his due ; 
 for it would be impossible to devise an honour that 
 should be proportionate to perfect virtue ^ Never- 
 theless he will accept honours, as people have nothing 
 greater to confer upon him. But such honour as is 
 paid by ordinary people and on trivial grounds, he 
 will utterly despise, as he deserves something better 
 than this. He will equally despise dishonour, feeling 
 that it cannot justly attach to him. 
 
 While the highminded man, then, as has been 
 said, is principally concerned with honours, he will, at 
 
 ' This sentence as showing Aristotle's exalted conception of 
 "highmindedness," throws light upon several remarks before 
 and after. 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 115 
 
 the same time, take a moderate view of wealth, 
 political power, and good or ill fortmie of all kinds, 
 however it may occur. He will not be excessively 
 elated by good, or excessively depressed by ill fortune ; 
 for he is not affected in this way by honour itself, as 
 if honour were the greatest thing in the world. For 
 it is honour which makes political power and wealth 
 to be objects of desire ; at all events the possessors of 
 power and wealth are eager to make use of them as 
 means of gaining honour. He therefore who regards 
 honour as insignificant will regard everything else in 
 the same light. 
 
 This is the reason why highmiuded people seem Chap.vtu. 
 to be supercilious. It seems too that the gifts of 
 fortune contribute to liighmindedness ; for people of 
 high birth or great political power or wealth are 
 considered to be worthy of honour, as they are in a 
 position of superiority, and that which is superior in 
 any good is always held in higher honour. It is thus 
 that such gifts of fortune enhance a person's high- 
 mindedness, as in conseqtience of them he receives 
 honour from certain quarters. But in truth it is only 
 the good man who deserves honour, although if a man 
 possesses gifts of fortune as well as goodness he is 
 considered to be in a higher sense worthy of honour. 
 People who possess goods of this kind, without virtue, 
 are not justified in considering themselves to be 
 worthy of great things, nor is it right to call them 
 higbminded, as neither greatness nor highmindedness 
 is possible without complete virtue. The possessors 
 of such goods belong to the class of people who are 
 apt to become supercilious and insolent ; for without 
 
 8—2 
 
116 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 virtue it is not easy to bear the gifts of fortune in 
 good taste. Not being able to bear them, and 
 imagining themselves to be superior to everybody 
 else, such people treat others with contempt, and act 
 according to their own sweet will ; for they imitate 
 the highminded man without being like him, but 
 they imitate him only so far as they have the power ; 
 in other words they do not perform virtuous actions, 
 but they treat other people with contempt. The 
 highminded man is justified in his contempt for 
 others, as he forms a true estimate of them, but 
 ordinary people have no such justification. Again, 
 the highminded man is not fond of encountering small 
 dangers, nor is he fond of encountering dangers at 
 all, as there are few things which he values enough to 
 endanger himself for them. But he is ready to 
 encounter great dangers, and in the hour of danger is 
 reckless of his life, because he feels that life is not 
 worth living without honour. He is capable of 
 conferring benefits but ashamed of receiving them, 
 as in the one case he feels his superiority, and in the 
 other his inferiority. He will try to return a benefit 
 which has been conferred upon him with interest, as 
 then the original benefactor will actually become his 
 debtor, and wiU have been the recipient of a benefit. 
 It seems too that a highminded person remembers 
 those upon whom he has conferred a benefit, but not 
 those from whom he has received it; for the recipient 
 of a benefaction is inferior to the benefactor, and 
 the highminded man always aspires to superiority. 
 Again, he is glad to be told of the benefits which he 
 has conferred, but he cannot bear being told of those 
 
CHAP. Vin.] OF AEISTOTLE. 117 
 
 which he has received. That is the reason (he thinks) 
 why Thetis' does not recount to Zeus the services 
 which she has done him, and why the Lacedaemonians' 
 in negotiating with the Athenians recounted not their 
 services but their obligations. It is characteristic too 
 of the highminded man that he never, or hardly ever, 
 asks a favour, that he is ready to do anybody a 
 service, and that, although his bearing is stately 
 towards persons of dignity and affluence, it is unas- 
 suming towards the middle class ; for while it is a 
 difficult and dignified thing to be superior to the 
 former, it is easy enough to be superior to the latter, 
 and while a dignified demeanour in dealing with the 
 former is a mark of nobility, it is a mark of vulgarity 
 in dealing with the latter, as it is like a display of 
 physical strength at the expense of an invalid. Such 
 a person too will not be eager to win honours or to 
 dispute the supremacy of other people. He will not 
 bestir himself or be in a hurry to act, except where 
 there is some great honour to be won, or some great 
 result to be achieved. His performances will be rare, 
 but they will be great and will win him a great name. 
 He will, of course, be open in his hatreds and his 
 friendships, as secrecy is an indication of fear. He 
 will care for reality more than for reputation, he will 
 be open in word and deed, as his superciliousness 
 will lead him to speak his mind boldly. Accordingly 
 
 1 Iliad I. 503, 504. It is where Theiiiis invokes the aid of 
 Zeus on behalf of Achilles. ^ 
 
 ^ The occasion is said to have been one when the Thebans 
 invaded Laconia. It may be assumed that the Lacedaemonians 
 were seeking Athenian support. 
 
118 THE mCOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK IV. 
 
 he will tell the truth too, except where he is ironical, 
 although he will U8e irony in dealing with ordinary 
 people. He will be incapable of ordering his life so 
 as to please anybody else, unless it be a friend, as 
 such dependence would be servility. That is the 
 reason why all toadies have the spirit of menials, and 
 persons of a mean spirit are toadies. Nor again will 
 he be given to admiration, as there is nothing which 
 strikes him as great. Nor will he bear grudges ; for 
 no one who is highminded will dwell upon the past, 
 least of all upon past injuries ; he will prefer to over- 
 look them. He will not be a gossip, he will not talk 
 much about himself or about anybody else ; for he 
 does not care to be praised himself or to get other 
 people censured. On the other hand he will not 
 be fond of praising other people. And not being a 
 gossip, he will not speak evil of others, even of his 
 enemies, except for the express purpose of insulting 
 them. He will be the last person to set up a wailing 
 or cry out for help when something happens which is 
 inevitable or insignificant, as to do so is to attach 
 great importance to it. He is the kind of person who 
 would rather possess what is noble, although it does 
 not bring in profit, than what is profitable but not 
 noble, as such a preference argues self-sufiiciency. 
 
 It seems too that the highminded man will be 
 slow in his movements, his voice will be deep and his 
 manner of speaking sedate ; for it is not likely that a 
 man will be in a hurry, if there are not many things 
 that he cares for, or that he will be emphatic, if he 
 does not regard anything as important, and these are 
 the causes which make people speak in shrill tones 
 and use rapid movements. 
 
CHAP. IX.] OF ARISTOTLE. 119 
 
 Such then being the character of the highminded Chap. ix. 
 man, whose character is the mean, he who is deficient 
 is called meanminded, and he who exceeds is called 
 conceited. , 
 
 It does not follow that these persons are them- Mean- 
 selves bad; they are not evil doers, they are only^™^**^" 
 misguided ; for the meanminded man is one who, 
 being worthy of good things, deprives himself of the 
 things of which he is worthy, and seems to prejudice 
 his own position by self-depreciation and self-ignor- 
 ance, as otherwise he would try to get what he 
 deserves, assuming it to be good. Not that people of 
 this kind seem to be foolish, they are rather timorous. 
 But it seems that their way of thinking deteriorates 
 the character, as our aims always depend upon our 
 estimate of our own deserts, and these people abandon 
 the hope of noble actions and pursuits as well as of 
 external goods from a feeling that they do not de- 
 serve them. 
 
 Conceited people on the other hand, are foolish Conceit. 
 and ignorant of themselves, and make themselves 
 conspicuous by being so ; for they try to obtain 
 positions of honour under an impression of their own 
 deserts, and then if they obtain them, prove failures. 
 They get themselves up in fine dresses, and pose for 
 efiect, and so on, and wish their good fortime to be 
 known to all the world, and talk about themselves, as 
 if that were the road to honour. 
 
 Meanmindedness, rather than conceit, is opposed 
 to highmindedness ; for it is a more common and a 
 worse defect. 
 
 Highmindedness then has to do with honour on a Chap. x. 
 
120 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 viituoua large scale, as has been said. But there is apparently 
 specting another virtue which has to do with honour, as was 
 a°smiS ™ remarked at the outset. It would seem to be related 
 scale. to highmindedness, as liberality is related to magnifi- 
 ^' cence • for neither this virtue nor liberality is con- 
 
 cerned with great things, but they both produce in 
 us a right disposition in regard to things of moderate 
 or small importance. 
 
 As in the taking and giving of property there is a 
 mean state, an excess, and a deficiency, so it is with 
 the desire of honour. It is possible to desire honour 
 too much or too little, or to desire to obtain it from 
 Ambition, the right sourccs and in the right manner. We 
 censure the ambitious man for desiring honour more 
 than is right and for desiring to obtain it from wrong 
 sources, and the unambitious man for not choosing to 
 be honoured even for his noble deeds. But there are 
 occasions when we praise the ambitious man as a 
 man of spirit and a lover of nobleness, or praise the 
 unambitious man for his moderation and self-restraint 
 p. 50. as we said at the beginning. 
 
 It is clear then that there are various senses in 
 which a person is said to be fond of a thing. We do 
 not always understand the word "ambitious" or 
 " fond of honour," in the same sense ; when we use it 
 as a term of praise we mean " ambitious more than 
 ordinary people," and when as a term of censure we 
 mean " ambitious more than is right." 
 
 There is no name for the mean state, and it seems 
 that both extremes lay claim to it, as if it were 
 unoccupied ground. But where there is excess and 
 deficiency, there is also a mean. People desire honour 
 
CHAP. X.] OP AMSTOTLE. 121 
 
 both more and less than is right; therefore they 
 sometimes desire it also' in a right spirit. At least 
 this moral state is a subject of praise, as being a 
 mean state in respect of honour, although it has no 
 recognized name. As compared with ambition, it 
 appears to be lack of ambition, as compared with lack 
 of ambition, it appears to be ambition, as compared 
 with both, it appears to be a sort of combination of 
 the two. It seems that this is the case with other 
 virtues as well; but in this case it is the extremes 
 which appear to be opposed to each other rather 
 than to the mean, there being no name for the inter- 
 mediate or mean state. 
 
 Gentleness* or good temper is a mean state in Chap. xi. 
 respect of angry feelings ; but there is no recognized ^ good*^^ 
 name for the mean or indeed, it may be said, for the temper. 
 extremes. • We apply the term " good temper " to the 
 mean, although it inclines in sense to the deficiency 
 which has no name. 
 
 The excess may be described as a sort of angriness irasei 
 or irascibility, for the emotion is anger, although the 
 causes which produce it are many and various. 
 
 A person is praised if he grows angry on the 
 right occasion and with the right people, and also in 
 the right manner, at the right times and for the right 
 length of time; such a person will be good-tempered 
 
 ^ Beadingf eirn fii) xai w! Sei. 
 
 2 There is no satisfactoty English equivalent for npabrrfs; 
 "gentleness" and "mildness" are not specially limited to anger, 
 and "placability," although it refers to it, denotes only one 
 condition or aspect of the angry feelings. Perhaps "good 
 temper " represents the Greek word as nearly as possible. 
 
122 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 therefore, as good temper is a term of praise. For 
 a good-tempered person is in effect one who Mdll be 
 cool, and not carried away by his emotion but will 
 wax wroth in such a manner, on such occasions, and 
 for so long a time, as reason may prescribe. But it 
 seems that he will err rather on the side of deficiency ; 
 for a good-tempered or gentle person is inclined to 
 forgiveness rather than to revenge. 
 
 The deficiency, whether it be called a phlegmatic 
 disposition or anything else, is a subject of censure, 
 for people look foolish, if they do not grow angry on 
 the right occasions or in the right way. For it seems 
 that they have no feeling or no feeling of pain, and 
 that, if they do not grow angry, they are incapable of 
 defending themselves. But it is oidy a slavish nature 
 which will submit to be insulted, or will let a friend 
 be insulted, without protest. 
 
 The excess may take any one of all these forms. 
 We may be angry with the wrong people, or on the 
 wrong occasions, or more than is right, or sooner, or 
 for a longer time. I do not mean that all these faults 
 are found in the same person ; that would be impos- 
 sible, as evil is self-destructive, and, if it exists in its 
 entirety, becomes intolerable. 
 
 Irascible people then soon grow angry, and grow 
 
 angry with the wrong person, or on the wrong 
 
 occasions, or more than is right. But they soon 
 
 cease beiiig angry; indeed, this is the best point in 
 
 their character. The reason is that they do not 
 
 control their anger ; they are so quick-tempered that 
 
 • they retaliate in an open way and then have done. 
 
 Quick Choleric people again are excessively quick- 
 
 temper. 
 
CHAP, XI.] OP ARISTOTLE. 123 
 
 tempered, and get angry at every provocation and on 
 every occasion ; hence their name'. 
 
 Sullen people are slow to make friends again and, SnUen- 
 as they keep their temper down, their anger lasts a "^^^' 
 long time. Eetaliation brings a feeling of relief; for 
 the revenge makes a person cease from his anger, by 
 producing a state of pleasure instead of pain. But if 
 this does not take place, the burden remains ; for as 
 he does not reveal his anger, nobody helps to reason 
 him out of it, and it takes time for a person to digest 
 his anger in his own soul. Sullen people are the 
 greatest possible nuisance to themselves and to their 
 best friends. 
 
 We call people stem if they wax wroth on the sternness. 
 wrong occasions, and more than is right, and for a 
 longer time, and if they will not make friends again 
 without revenge or punishment. Such people are 
 more diflBcult to live with than others ^ We gene- 
 rally regard the excess, viz. the irascible rather than 
 the phlegmatic disposition, as the opposite of good 
 temper, as it is more frequent; for it is more natural 
 to men to take vengeance than to forgive. 
 
 This account of anger proves what has been p- 57. 
 already said; it is not easy to define the right 
 manner, objects, occasion, and duration of anger, or 
 how far it may rightly go, and where it begins to be 
 wrong; for we do not censure a person who deviates 
 a little from the right, whether on the side of excess 
 or of deficiency. Sometimes we praise people who 
 
 ^ oKpoxoKos, connected with ;fdXor. 
 
 ^ I have ventured to transpose this clause, as it clearly refers 
 to " sternness.'' 
 
124 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 are deficient and call them good-tempered; some- 
 times we speak of people who exhibit a stern character 
 as manly, believing them to be capable of rule. How 
 far and in what way a person must deviate from the 
 mean in order to be censurable is a question which it 
 is not easy to decide theoretically ; for the judgment 
 depends upon particular circumstances and is an 
 aflair of the perception. So much however is clear, that 
 the mean moral state is laudable, i.e. the state in 
 which we grow angry with the right persbns and on 
 the right occasions, and in the right manner and so 
 on, whereas the excesses and deficiencies are censur- 
 able, slightly censurable, if they go but a little way, 
 censurable in a higher degree, if they go further, and 
 exceedingly censurable, if they go a long way. It is 
 clear then that we must cling to the mean moral 
 state. 
 
 Chap. xn. This must be a sufficient account of the moral 
 states which have to do with anger. 
 
 In human society, with its common life and as- 
 sociation in words and deeds, there are some people 
 
 obse- who seem to be obsequious. They are people who 
 
 ness"^ try to please us by praising all that we do and never 
 thwarting us, and who think they ought to avoid 
 causing annoyance to anybody who comes in their 
 way. There are others who take the contrary line of 
 always thwarting us and never give a thought to the 
 pain which they cause; these are called surly and 
 
 Surliness, contcntious people. 
 
 It is clear enough then that the moral states thus 
 described are censurable, and that the intermediate 
 or mean state, in virtue of which a person will assent 
 
CHAP. XII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 125 
 
 and similarly will object to the right things in the 
 right spirit, is laudable. No special name is assigned 
 to this mean state, but it most neariy resembles 
 friendliness ; for the person in whom it exists answers Fnenau- 
 to our idea of a virtuous friend, except that friendli- 
 ness implies aflFection as well. It differs from friendli- 
 ness in being destitute of emotion or affection for the 
 people with whom one associates, as it is not iriend- 
 ship or hatred that makes such a person assent to 
 things in a right spirit but his own character. For 
 he will so act alike to strangers and acquaintances, 
 and to people with whom he is or is not intimate ; 
 only in each case his action will be suitable ; for it is 
 not natural to pay the same regard to strangers as to 
 intimate friends, or to be equally scrupulous about 
 causing them pain. 
 
 While it is thus stated in general terms that such 
 a person will associate with other people in a right 
 spirit, it must be added that, in his endeavour to 
 avoid causing pain or to cooperate in giving pleasure, 
 he will never lose sight of what is noble and ex- 
 pedient. For it seems that he has to do with such 
 pleasures and pains as occur in human society. 
 Whenever then it is not honourable for him or is 
 injurious to cooperate in giving pleasure, he will 
 object to giving it, and will prefer to cause pain ; or 
 if a thing brings discredit and considerable discredit 
 or injury upon its author, while opposition to it 
 causes him only slight pain, he will not accept it but 
 will raise an objection to it. 
 
 He will not associate in the same spirit with 
 people of high position and with ordinary people, or 
 
126 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 with people whom he knows well and whom he knows 
 only slightly, and so on as other differences may 
 occur ; but he will render to each class its proper due. 
 Again, while he chooses the promotion of pleasure in 
 itself, and shrinks from the infliction of pain, he will 
 be guided by a consideration of consequences, if they 
 are greater than the immediate pleasure or pain, i.e. 
 of nobleness and expediency ; in other words he will 
 inflict slight pains for the sake of great subsequent 
 pleasure. 
 
 Such is then the intermediate or mean character, 
 although it has no proper name. But if a person 
 tries to promote the pleasure of others, he may either 
 aim at being pleasant without having an ulterior 
 object, and then he will be called complaisant, or it 
 may be his object to get some personal advantage in 
 the way of money or of the good things which money 
 
 Flattery, brings with it, and then he will be called a flatterer. 
 If a person on the other hand is disagreeable to 
 everybody, be is a surly and contentious fellow, as 
 
 p. 124. has been said. 
 
 The extreme states here appear to be opposed to 
 one another rather than to the mean state, because 
 the mean state has no name. 
 
 CHAP.xin. The mean state of which boastfulness is an ex- 
 treme has very much the same sphere, and it' also is 
 nameless. But it will be worth while to examine 
 these states ; for we shall better understand the facts 
 of character after discussing the moral characters 
 severally, and shall be convinced that the virtues are 
 mean states, by finding this to be the universal rule. 
 1 Beading avTri. 
 
CHAP. XIII. J OF ARISTOTLE. 127 
 
 • The people who in the converse and intercourse 
 of life make it their object to give pleasure or 
 pain have been already described. Let us now speak 
 of such people as are truthful and false, whether in 
 word or in deed or in their pretensions. 
 
 It seems that the boaster is one who is fond of ^°*^'*°i- 
 
 ness. 
 
 pretending to possess the qualities which the world 
 esteems, although he does not possess them, or does 
 not possess them to the extent that he pretends. 
 The ironicaP person on the contrary disclaims or irony, 
 disparages what he possesses, the intermediate person, 
 who is a sort of "plain dealer," is truthful both in 
 life and in speech ; he admits the fact of his posses- 
 sions, he neither exaggerates nor disparages them. 
 
 It is possible to be both boastful and ironical 
 either with or without an ulterior object. But every 
 man speaks, acts and lives in accordance with his 
 character, unless he has an ulterior object in view. 
 
 Falsehood in itself is base and censurable, truth is 
 noble and laudable; so too the truthful person, as 
 holding a mean or intermediate position, is laudable, 
 the'untruthful people are both censurable, but especi- 
 ally the boaster. 
 
 Let us speak of them both, beginning with the TrutUui- 
 truthful person. We are not speaking of one who is °^^^" 
 truthful in legal covenants, or in all such matters as 
 lie within the domain of justice or injustice (for these 
 would be matters belonging to a different virtue), but 
 where without any such important issue at stake a 
 
 ^ "Irony" is not an exact equivalent of the Greek elpavcla, 
 which denotes the character of one who depreciates himself; 
 " dissimulator opis propriae" in Horace's words. 
 
128 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 person is truthful both in word and in life, because 
 his moral state is truthful. Such a person would seem 
 to be Tirtuous ; for he who is a lover of truth and 
 truthful where truth is of no importance will be 
 equally true where it is of greater importance. He 
 will avoid falsehood in important matters as involving 
 disgrace; for he avoided it in itself apart from its 
 consequences; but so to avoid it is laudable. He 
 inclines by preference to an understatement of the 
 truth, as it appears to be in better taste than an 
 overstatement, for all excesses are offensive. 
 Preten- A pcrsou who pretends to greater things than he 
 
 tiousness. -j? i i ij. • l- j. • j • 
 
 possesses, it he has no ulterior object in doing so, 
 seems to be a person of low character, as otherwise he 
 would not take pleasure in a falsehood ; but he looks 
 more like a fool than a knave. Supposing he has an 
 " object, if the object be glory or honour, the pretenti- 
 ous person, like the boaster*, is not highly censurable; 
 but if it be money or the means of getting money, his 
 Boastful- conduct is more discreditable. It is not a particular 
 faculty, but a particular moral purpose, which consti- 
 tutes the boaster ; for it is for virtue of his moral 
 state and his character that he is a boaster, as a 
 person is a liar, if he takes pleasure in falsehood for 
 its own sake, or as a means of winning reputation or 
 gain. Thus it is that boastful people, if their object 
 is reputation, pretend to such qualities as win praise 
 or congratulation, but if their object is gain, they 
 pretend to such qualities as may be beneficial to their 
 
 1 The words cor 6 oKa^dv are probably spurious, as Mr Bywater 
 has seen; they make good sense, but it would seem that the 
 sense requires rather as ovSe 6 aKa(dv. 
 
CHAP. XIV.3 OF AEISTOTLE. 129 
 
 neighbours, and cannot be proTed not to exist, e.g. to 
 skill in prophesying or medicine. This is the reason 
 why the great majority of boasters pretend to such 
 qualities as these, and make a boast of them as they 
 are beneficial and it is difficult to disprove them. 
 
 Ironical people, on the other hand, in depreciating tony, 
 themselves, show a more refined character, for it 
 seems that their object is not to make gain but to 
 avoid pomposity. They are particularly fond of 
 disclaiming the same qualities as the boaster aflects, 
 viz. the qualities which the world esteems, as was the 
 way, e.g. of Socrates. 
 
 People, whose pretensions apply to such things Hnmbng. 
 as are trivial and obvious, are called humbugs ; they 
 deserve nothing but contempt. 
 
 Sometimes irony itself appears to be boastfiilness, 
 as in the dress of the Lacedaemonians ; for exaggerated 
 deficiency is a form of boastfulness as well as excess. 
 But people who employ irony with moderation, and 
 upon such occasions as are not too obvious and 
 palpable, present an appearance of refinement. 
 
 The boaster appears to be the opposite of the 
 truthful man, as being worse than the ironical man. 
 
 As relaxation enters into life no less than business, Chap.xiv. 
 and one element of relaxation is playful diversion, it 
 seems that here too there is a manner of intercourse 
 which is in good taste ; there are right things to say 
 and a right way of saying them, and the same is true 
 of listening. But the right way of speaking or 
 listening will differ according to the class of people 
 to whom one speaks or listens. 
 
 It is clear that in this matter as in others it is 
 w. N. E. 9 
 
130 THE NICOMACHAEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 possible to go beyond, or to fall short of, the mean. 
 
 Buf- Now they who exceed the proper limit in ridicule 
 
 foonery. ^^^^ ^^ ^^ bufFoons and vulgar people, as their heart 
 is set upon exciting ridicule at any cost, and they aim 
 rather at raising a laugh than at using decorous 
 
 Boorish- language and not giving pain to their butt. On the 
 other hand they who will never themselves speak a 
 word that is ridiculous, and who are indignant with 
 everybody who speaks so, may be said to be boorish 
 and rude. 
 
 Wittiness. Peoplo whose fun is in good taste are called 
 witty {evTpatreKoi), a name which implies the happy 
 turns' of their art, as these happy turns may be 
 described as movements of the character ; for charac- 
 ters, like bodies, are judged by their movements. 
 But as it is never necessary to look far for subjects of 
 ridicule and as an excessive fondness for fun and 
 mockery is pretty universal, it happens that not only 
 true wits but bufFoons are described as witty, because 
 they are amusing. But it is clear from what has been 
 said that there is a diflference, and indeed a wide 
 difference, between the two. 
 
 Tact. The characteristic of the mean state is tact. A 
 
 person of tact is one who will use and listen to such 
 language only as is suitable to an honourable gentle- 
 man; for there is such language as an honourable 
 gentleman may fitly use and listen to in the way of 
 fun, and the fun of a gentleman is different from that 
 of a slavish person, and again, the fun of a cultivated 
 person from that of one who is uncultivated. We 
 
 ^ evrpaircXia is connected with Tpentiv "to turn." 
 
CHAP. XIV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 131 
 
 may see this to be so at once by a comparison of the 
 old and the new comedy; in the former it was 
 obscenity of language which raised a laugh, but in 
 the latter it is rather innuendo, and this makes a 
 great difference from the point of view of deconmi. 
 
 Is it then to be the definition of a good jester that 
 he uses such language as befits a gentleman, or that 
 he does not give pain, or actually gives pleasure, to 
 his listener? It is probably impossible to determine 
 this point, as different things are detestable or agree- 
 able to different people. But the language to which 
 a person listens wiU correspond to the language which 
 he uses ; for it seems that he will make such jests as 
 he can bear to listen to. There wiU be some kinds of 
 jest then that he wiU not make, for mockery is a 
 species of reviling, and there are some kinds of re- 
 viling which legislators prohibit ; they ought perhaps 
 to have prohibited certain kinds of jesting as well. 
 
 This will be therefore the moral state of the 
 refined gentleman ; he will be, so to say, a law unto 
 himself. 
 
 Such is then the mean, or intermediate character, 
 whether it be called tact or wittiness. 
 
 But the buffoon is the slave of his own sense of 
 humour; he wiU spare neither himself nor anybody 
 else, if he can raise a laugh, and he wiU use such 
 language as no person of refinement would use or 
 sometimes even listen to. 
 
 The boor is one who is useless for such social 
 purposes; he contributes nothing, and takes offence 
 at everything. Yet it seems that relaxation and fun 
 are indispensable elements in life. 
 
 9—2 
 
132 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IV. 
 
 The mean states then in life which have been 
 described, are three, viz. friendliness, tmihfulness, 
 and wittiness. They are all concerned with the 
 association of people in certain words and deeds. 
 They are different in that one is concerned with truth 
 and the others with pleasure, and, of the two which 
 are concerned with pleasure, one finds its sphere in 
 amusements, the other in the general intercourse 
 of life. 
 Chap. XV. It would not be right to speak of a sense of shame 
 Shame. ^g g^ virtue, for it is more like an emotion than a 
 moral state ; at least it may be defined as a kind of 
 fear of ignominy, and in its effects it is analogous to 
 the fear of dangers, for people blush when they are 
 ashamed, and turn pale when they are afraid of 
 death. It is clear then that both affections are in a 
 sense corporeal, and this seems to be a mark of an 
 emotion rather than of a moral state. 
 
 The emotion is one which is appropriate not to 
 all ages but to youth. We consider that the young 
 ought to show a sense of shame, as their life being 
 directed by emotion is fuU of mistakes, and it is 
 shame which holds them in check. Again, while we 
 praise young men for exhibiting a sense of shame, 
 nobody would praise an old man for shamefacedness, 
 as we hold that he ought not to do anything which 
 occasions shame. Neither will a virtuous person feel 
 shame, as shame is occasioned by misconduct ; for he 
 ought not to misconduct himself. It makes no 
 difference if there are some things which are really 
 disgraceful, and others which are regarded as dis- 
 graceful ; people ought not to do either, and therefore 
 
CHAP. XV.] or ARISTOTLE. 133 
 
 ought not to be ashamed. It is only a man of low 
 character who will be capable of doing anything that 
 is disgraceful. 
 
 The idea of a person living in such a moral state 
 that, if he were to do anything of the kind, he would 
 be ashamed, and of his therefore imagining himself to 
 be virtuous, is absurd; for shame is occasioned by 
 voluntary actions alone, and the virtuous man will 
 never voluntarily do what is base. Still shame can be 
 virtuous only hypothetically. It implies that, if a 
 person should act in a particular way, he would be 
 ashamed; but there is nothing hypothetical in the 
 virtuous. Again, granting that it is base to be shame- 
 less and to feel no shame at doing disgraceful deeds, 
 we need not conclude that it is virtuous to do them 
 and to be ashamed of doing them. 
 
 Similarly, continence' is not a virtue, but a sort of 
 mixed state as will be shown in the sequel". But let 
 us now proceed to consider justice. 
 
 1 The point of similarity is that continence (ty/cparcio) implies 
 the presence of a wrong desire as shame (alSois) implies the 
 performance of a wrong action. 
 
 2 In Book vii. 
 
BOOK V. 
 
 Chap. I. We comc now to investigate justice and injustice. 
 Justice. y^Q jjg^ye to consider what is the character of the 
 actions with which they deal, what is the sense in 
 which justice is a mean state, and what are the 
 extremes between which the just is a mean. In our 
 iuTestigation we will follow the same plan as in the 
 virtues already described. 
 
 We see that everybody who uses the term "justice" 
 
 means by it the moral state which makes people 
 
 capable of doing what is just, and which makes them 
 
 just in action and in intention. In the same way 
 
 injustice is the moral state which makes them unjust 
 
 in action and in intention. Let us begin then by 
 
 assuming this rough definition of justice and injustice. 
 
 We regard justice as one moral state and injustice 
 
 Difference as another. For the moral states are different in one 
 
 morar° respect from the sciences and faculties. Whereas it 
 
 states and geems that the same faculty or science applies to 
 
 sciences or •' ^^^ 
 
 faculties, contraries, one of two contrary moral or physical 
 states' does not apply to its contraries; thus health 
 
 1 e|ir is a "state," in Latin habitus, generally, but not 
 necessarily, a "moral state." 
 
CHAP. II.] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. 135 
 
 does not produce results which are contrary to health 
 but only results which are healthy ; for we speak of 
 a person as walking healthily when he walks as a 
 healthy person would walk. 
 
 Now it is often possible to ascertain one of two 
 contrary moittl states from the other, or to ascertain 
 moral states from their phenomena, i.e. from their 
 cavses and consequences. For if it is evident what is 
 a good state of health, it becomes evident at once 
 what is a bad state ; or again, a good state of health 
 is evident from the conditions which produce good 
 health, and the conditions which produce good health 
 from the good state of health ; for if a good state of 
 health is a state in which the flesh is plump, it 
 necessarily follows that a bad state of health is a 
 state in which the flesh is lean, and that that which 
 produces plumpness of flesh is that which produces 
 good health. 
 
 Again, it follows as a general rule that, if one of 
 two opposite terms be used in a plurality of senses, so 
 is the other, e.g. if the word "just" has several senses, 
 so has the word "unjust." 
 
 It seems that the words "justice" and "injustice" Chap.il 
 are used in a plurality of senses, but as the various 
 senses are closely allied, their homonymy^ or ambi- 
 guity escapes notice, and is not so evident, as it is 
 when the various senses are wholly distinct ; for the 
 diflFerence is striking when it is one of external ap- 
 pearance, e.g. the ambiguous use of the word «\et? 
 
 * A " homonym " in Ariatotelian phraseology is a word having 
 two or more distinct senses, such as " bull," " bill " or " ball." . 
 
136 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 for the clavicle of animals, and for the key which is 
 
 used in locking doors. 
 
 Different It ig necessarv therefore to ascertain all the various 
 
 "justice" senses in which a person may be called unjust. He 
 
 lustice™ is said to be unjust, if he breaks the law of the land ; 
 
 he is also said to be unjust, if he takes more than his 
 
 share of anything'. It is clear then that the just 
 
 man will be (1) one who keeps the law, (2) one who 
 
 is fair. Accordingly what is just is (1) what is lawful, 
 
 (2) what is fair; what is unjust is (1) what is unlaw- 
 
 fiil, (2) what is unfair. 
 
 Sphere of Now, as the unjust man in the second of these two 
 
 injustice!' seuscs is ouo who takes more than his share, he wiU 
 
 have to do with goods, not indeed with all goods, but 
 
 with all the goods of fortune, which are always good 
 
 Goods in an absolute sense, but not always good relatively 
 
 and to the individual. These are indeed the objects of 
 
 men's prayers and pursuits ; but they ought rather to 
 
 pray that such things as are absolutely good may be 
 
 good also relatively to themselves, and to choose such 
 
 things as are good for themselves. 
 
 The unjust man does not always choose what is 
 more than his share; on the contrary he chooses 
 what is less than his share of such things as are 
 absolutely evil. But as it seems that the less of two 
 evils may, in a sense, be called a good, and to take 
 more than one's share means to take more than one's 
 share of what is good, he is regarded as taking more 
 
 1 I agree with Dr Jackson in omitting the words xal A avia-os 
 and in thinking they were inserted by a copyist who did not see 
 that " unfairness '' was implied in 6 irXfoviKrtjs. 
 
 relative. 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 137 
 
 than his share. Such a person may be called unfair; 
 for unfairness is a general and comprehensive term. 
 
 The law-breaker being, as we saw, unjust and the Chap. in. 
 law-abiding person just, it is clear that whatever is 
 lawful is in some sense just ; for such things as are 
 prescribed by legislative authority are lawful, and all 
 such things we call just. Laws pronounce upon all 
 subjects with a view to the interest of the community 
 as a whole, or of those who are its best or leading 
 citizens whether in virtue or in any similar sense. 
 Thus there is one sense in which we use the term 
 "just" of all that tends to create and to conserve 
 happiness and the elements of happiness in the body 
 poHtia The law commands us to perform the actions 
 of the courageous person, ie. not to leave the ranks, 
 or run away, or throw down our arms ; the actions of 
 the temperate person, i.e. to abstain from adultery 
 and outrage, or the actions of the gentle person, i.e. 
 to abstain from assault and abuse, and so with all the 
 other virtues and vices, prescribing some actions and 
 prohibiting others, and doing all this in a right spirit, 
 if it be a right law, but in a spirit which is not equally 
 right, if it be a law passed on the spur of the moment. 
 
 Justice then, as so defined, is complete virtue Justice and 
 although not complete in an absolute sense, but in 
 relation to one's neighbours. Hence it is that justice 
 is often regarded as the supreme virtue, "more glo- 
 rious than the star of eve or dawn"'; or as the 
 proverb runs 
 
 "Justice is the summary of all Virtue 2." 
 
 ^ It looks as if the expression were a poetical quotation. 
 * A line attributed to Theognis, Phocylides and other poets. 
 
138 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 It is in the highest sense complete virtue, as being 
 an exercise of complete virtue'. It is complete too, 
 because he who possesses it can employ his virtue in 
 relation to his neighbours and not merely by himself; 
 for there are many people who are capable of exhibit- 
 ing virtue at home, but incapable of exhibiting it in 
 relation to their neighbours. Accordingly there seems 
 to be good sense in the saying of Bias that "oflace 
 "will reveal a man,"- for one who is in office is at once 
 brought into relation and association with others. It 
 is this same reason which makes justice alone of the 
 virtues seem to be the good of others, as it implies a 
 relation to others, for it promotes the interests of 
 somebody else, whether he be a ruler or a simple 
 fellow-citizen. 
 
 As then the worst of men is he who exhibits his 
 depravity both in his own life and in relation to his 
 friends, the best of men is he who exhibits his virtue 
 not in his own life only but in relation to others ; for 
 this is a difficult task. 
 
 Justice therefore in this sense of the word, is not a 
 part of virtue but the whole of virtue ; its opposite, 
 injustice, not a part of vice but the whole of vice. If 
 it be asked what is the difference between virtue and 
 justice in this sense, it is clear from what has been 
 already said; they are the same, but the underlying 
 conception of them is different ; the moral state which, 
 if regarded relatively to others, is justice, if regarded 
 absolutely as a moral state, is virtue. 
 Chap. IV. But we are investigating the justice which is a 
 a part* ^' P^*^ of virtue ; for there is such a justice, as we hold. 
 
 of virtue. 1 Reading Tfjs reXci'as dpeTtjs XPV"'"- 
 
CHAP. IV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 139 
 
 Similarly there is a particular iniustice which requires injnstico 
 
 i • i . -.TT -I. ,1 . . i , . as a part 
 
 investigation. We may inter the existence of thisoi-n<x. 
 particular injustice from the following fact: a person 
 who exhibits any other form of wickedness in action, 
 although he acts unjustly', does not take more than 
 properly belongs to him, e.g. if he throws away his 
 shield out of cowardice, or makes use of abusive 
 language from bad temper, or from illiberality refuses 
 pecuniary help; but when he takes more than his 
 share, it often happens that he acts not from any one 
 of these forms of vice, and certainly not from all, 
 but from a species of vice {as is plain because 
 his action is censurable), or in other words from 
 injustice. There is then another injustice which is, 
 as it were, a part of injustice as a whole, and a sense 
 of the word "unjust" in which it is a part of the 
 whole field of injustice or illegality. 
 
 Again, if one man commits adultery for the sake 
 of gain, and makes money by it, while another incurs 
 expenditure and loss for the sake of gratifyiag his 
 passion, the latter would seem to be licentious rather 
 than grasping, but the former to be unjust and not 
 licentious, the reason being clearly that his object 
 was not the gratification of his passion but gain. 
 Again, while it is possible to refer all other unjust 
 actions or crimes to some particular vice, e.g. to in- 
 continence in the case of adultery, to cowardice in the 
 case of desertion from the ranks, and to anger in the 
 
 1 The English words "unjust " and " injustice " have properly 
 a more restricted meaning than aStKos and dSiKctv as here used. 
 A person who should throw away his shield in battle would not 
 be said to act " unjustly." 
 
140^ THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 case of assault, where it is a case oi unjust gain, there 
 
 is no vice to which it can be referred except injustice. 
 
 It is evident then that, besides injustice as a 
 
 whole, there is another particular injustice which has 
 
 the same namei, as its definition falls under the same 
 
 genus, for both take effect in relation to other people ; 
 
 but the one is concerned with honour or property or 
 
 safety or whatever comprehensive name we may have 
 
 for all such things, and is due to the pleasure of 
 
 making gain, the other is concerned with the whole 
 
 sphere of virtuous action. 
 
 Chap. V. It is clear then that there are various kinds of 
 
 ofvirtue^' justicc, and that there is a kind which is different from 
 
 andin- complete vlrtuc. We must therefore ascertain its 
 
 nature and character. 
 
 The unjust has been defined in two distinct senses, 
 viz. as what is illegal or what is unfair. Similarly, 
 the just as what is legal or what is fair. Now the 
 injustice already described corresponds to or is coex- 
 tensive v;ith illegalitj'. But as what is unfair and 
 what is illegal are not the same thing, but stand to 
 each other in the relation of part to whole, what 
 is unfair being always illegal but what is illegal not 
 being always imfair, it follows that the words "unjust" 
 and "injustice," when used in the limited sense, have 
 
 1 At the beginning of the Categories, Aristotle distinguishes 
 ofidyviia, mv ovo/ia fiovov koivov, 6 8c Kara rovvofia \6yos rtjs ovtrias 
 CTcpos from (rvvcivviia, av ro re Svo/ia koivov koX 6 Kara rovvona 
 \6yos rrjs ovcrias 6 avros. The distinction is not here important : 
 cp. p. 80, 1. 24. As general and particular injustice are specifi- 
 cally different, they are homonymous ; as they fall under the same 
 general head, they are synonymous. 
 
CHAP, v.] OF ARISTOTLE, 141 
 
 a diflferent meaning from the same words when nsed 
 in the large sense, standing to them in the relation of 
 parts to wholes ; for this injustice is a part of tmi- 
 ■versal injustice, and similarly this justice a part of 
 universal justice. It is necessary therefore to speak 
 of particular justice and particular injustice, and 
 similarly of the just and the unjust in a particular 
 sense. 
 
 We may set aside then the justice and injustice Umyeraai 
 which correspond to complete virtue and vice, the 
 former being the exercise of complete virtue, and the 
 latter of complete vice, in relation to others. It is 
 evident too how the just and the unjust corresponding 
 to universal justice and injustice are to be determined. 
 The majority of such actions as the law prescribes are 
 actions issuing from complete virtue ; for the law bids 
 us live in the practice of every virtue, and forbids us 
 to live in the practice of any vice. But the causes 
 which are productive of complete virtue are all such 
 legislative enactments as have been passed in regard 
 to education for the duties of citizenship. As to the 
 education of the individual which makes him not a 
 good cvbizen hut a good man in an absolute sense, it 
 will be necessary to determine hereafter* whether it 
 is a branch of the political art or of some other; 
 for it is possibly not the same thing in all cases to 
 be a good man and to be a good citizen. 
 
 There are two kinds of particular iustice and of Partioniar 
 
 '■ justice. 
 
 Its two 
 ^ The promise is not ful^Ued in the Ethics, but the question kinds. 
 
 here raised is considered in the Politics m. ch. 4. It must not 
 
 be forgotten that Aristotle looks upon Ethics as a branch of 
 
 Politics. 
 
142 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 the just action which corresponds to particular justice, 
 one consisting in the distributions of honour or wealth 
 or any other things which are divided among the 
 members of the community, as it is here that one 
 citizen may have a share which is equal or unequal 
 to another's, the other kind which is corrective of 
 wrong in private transactions. This latter again has 
 two subdivisions, private transactions being (1) volun- 
 tary, (2) involuntary. Voluntary transactions are 
 such as selling, buying, lending at iijterest, giving 
 security, lending without interest, depositing money, 
 hiring ; and they are said to be voluntary because the 
 origin of these transactions is voluntary, i.e. people 
 enter wpon them of their own free will. Involuntary 
 transactions again are either (1) secret, as e.g. theft, 
 adultery, poisoning, pandering, enticing slaves away 
 from their masters, assassination, and false witness, 
 or (2) violent, as assault, imprisonment, murder, rape, 
 mutilation, slander, and contumelious treatment. 
 Chap. VI. As the person who is unjust is unfair, and the 
 ttTe*"u'" thing which is unjust is unfair, it is clear' that there 
 tide. is a certain mean in respect of unfairness, or inequality. 
 
 This mean is that which is fair or equal ; for whatever 
 be the nature of an action that admits of excess or 
 defect, it admits also of fairness or equality. 
 
 If then that which is unjust is unfair, that which 
 is just is fair, as indeed every one sees without 
 argument. 
 
 But since that which is fair or equal is a mean 
 between two extremes, that which is just will in a 
 certain sense be a mean. But fairness or equality 
 
 1 Because ro avurov implies to TrKeoveKreiv. 
 
CHAP. VI.] OF ARISTOTLE, 143 
 
 implies two persons or things at least*. It follows 
 therefore that that which is just is a mean, that it is 
 fair* or equal and that it is relative to certain persons. 
 It follows also that, inasmuch as it is a mean, it is a 
 mean between certain extremes, yiz. excess and defect, 
 and that inasmuch as it is just, it is relative to certain 
 persons. But, if so, then that which is just must 
 imply four terms at least; for the persons relatively 
 to whom it is just are two, and the things in which it 
 consists' are two likewise. Also, if the persons are 
 equal, the things will be equal ; for as one thing is to 
 the other thing, so is one person to the other person. 
 For if the persons are not equal, they will not have 
 equal shares ; in fact the source of battles and com- 
 plaints is either that people who are equal have un- 
 equal shares, or that people who are not equal have 
 equal shares, distributed to them. The same truth 
 is clearly seen from the principle of merit ; for every- 
 body admits that justice in distributions is determined 
 by merit of some sort ; only people do not all under- 
 stand the same thing by merit. The democrats 
 understand freedom, the oligarchs wealth or nobility, 
 and the aristocrats virtue. 
 
 Justice then is a sort of proportion ; for proper- Justice 
 tion is not peculiar to abstract quantity*, but belongs tionate. 
 
 1 TO "a-ov is either "the fair" or "the equal" but fairness in 
 distribution cannot exist, unless there are two recipients, nor 
 equality unless there is a division of goods. 
 
 2 Omitting the words koX irpos n. 
 
 2 It seems desirable, with Dr Jackson, to omit ra irpayiurra ; 
 but if the words are retained, they do not alter the sense. 
 
 * "Abstract quantity" is. Sir A. Grant says, "number expressed 
 in ciphers." It is e.g. the number 2, not two horses or two carts etc. 
 
144 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 to quantity generally, proportion being equality of 
 ratios and implying four terms at least. 
 
 Now it is plain that discrete proportion implies 
 four terms ; but the same is true of continuous pro- 
 portion; for in continuous proportion one of the 
 terms is used as two, and is repeated. Thus as A is 
 to ^, so is -B to C ; here B is repeated ; consequently 
 if B be set down twice, the terms of the proportion 
 will be four. 
 
 That which is just then requires four terms at 
 least, and an equality of ratio between them, the 
 persons and the things being similarly divided^ As 
 then the term A is to the term B, so will O be to D, 
 and consequently cdternando as A is to O, so will B 
 be to D. The whole therefore will bear the same 
 ratio to the whole i.e. A + G will heto B + D as A is 
 to B or O to D^; but this is the combination which 
 the distribution effects, and, if the terms be thus 
 united, it is a just combination. 
 Chap. vh. The Conjunction therefore of A with G and of B 
 with D is what is just in distribution, and this justice 
 is a mean between the violations of proportion; for 
 that which is proportionate is a mean, and that which 
 is just is proportionate. Mathematicians call this 
 kind of proportion geometrical; for in geometrical 
 
 ' If A : B :: B : C he takeai as the example of continuous 
 proportion, A : B wC : D will be an example of discrete propor- 
 tion. 
 
 2 i.e. so that person should be to person, as thing to thing. 
 
 5 In the supposed instance A and B are persons, C and D are 
 things, and the combination consists in adding O (thing) to 
 A (person) and D (thing) to B (person). 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 145 
 
 proportion the whole is to the whole as each of the 
 separate terms is to each*. But this proportion is 
 not continuous, as no one arithmetical term can stand 
 both for person and for thing. 
 
 That which is just then in this sense is that which 
 is proportionate, and that which is unjust is that 
 which is disproportionate. It follows that this dispro- 
 portion may take the form either of excess or defect ; 
 and this is actually the case, for the author of the 
 injustice has too much, and the victim has too little, 
 of the good. In regard to evil the contrary is the 
 case ; for the lesser evil in comparison with the greater 
 counts as a good, as the lesser evil is more desirable 
 than the greater, and that which is desirable is a good, 
 and that which is more desirable is a greater good. 
 
 This then, is one form of justice i.e. of particular 
 jiistice. 
 
 The remaining form of justice is the corrective, CorrectiTe 
 which occurs in private transactions whether volun- 
 tary or involuntary. 
 
 This justice is different in kind from the former. 
 For distributive justice in dealing with the public 
 funds invariably follows the proportion which has 
 been described, i.e. geometrical proportion, as even if 
 the distribution be made to two or more people out 
 of the public funds, it wiU be in accordance with the 
 ratio of the contributions which they have severally 
 made'. Also the injustice which is opposite to this 
 
 1 \.e.A + G:B+D::A : B or :: O : D. 
 
 2 The meaning is that, if A pays a larger income-tax than B, 
 he will receive a larger share of such public property as may be 
 distributed. 
 
 W. N. E. 10 
 
 instice. 
 
146 THE mCOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 form of justice is tlie violation of geometrical propor- 
 tion. But the justice which exists in private trans- 
 actions, although in a sense it is fair or equal, and the 
 corresponding injustice is unfair or unequal, follows 
 not geometrical but arithmetical proportion'. For it 
 makes no difference here whether it be a virtuous 
 man who defrauded a bad man, or a bad man who 
 defrauded a virtuous man, or whether it be a virtuous 
 or a bad man who committed adultery ; the law looks 
 only to the degree of the injury, it treats the parties as 
 equal, and asks only if one is the author and the other 
 the victim of injustice or if the one inflicted and the 
 other has sustained an injury. Injustice then in this 
 sense is unfair or unequal, and the endeavour of the 
 judge" is to equalize it; for even when one person 
 deals a blow and the other receives it, or one person 
 kills and the other is killed, the suffering and the 
 action are divided into unequal parts, and it is the 
 effort of the judge to restore equality by the penalty 
 which he inflicts, as the penalty is so much subtracted 
 from the profit. For the term "profit" is applied 
 generally to such cases, although it is sometimes not 
 strictly appropriate; thus we speak of the "profit" of 
 one who inflicts a blow, or the "loss" of one who 
 suffers it, but it is when the suffering is assessed in a 
 
 1 If in geometrical proportion 2 : 4 : : 3 : 6, in arithmetical 
 proportion 2 : 4 ; : 4 : 6, 4 being the arithmetical mean between 2 
 and 6. 
 
 " As the Athenian StKatrriJs was partly judge and partly juror, 
 it is necessary, in every case of translating it, to use the English 
 word which best represents the particular functions denoted by 
 the Greek. 
 
CHAP. Vn.J OF ARISTOTLE. 147 
 
 court of law that the prosecutor gets profit, and 
 the guilty person loss. That which is fair or equal 
 then is the mean between excess and defect. But 
 profit and loss are excess and defect, although in 
 opposite senses, the excess of good and the defect of 
 evil being profit, and the excess of evil and the defect 
 of good being loss. The mean between them, is, as 
 we said, the equal, which we call just. Hence correc- 
 tive justice will be the mean between profit and loss. 
 
 This is the reason why, when people dispute, they 
 have recourse to a judge (St/eao-Tj??) and to go to a 
 judge is to go to what is just ; for the judge professes 
 to be a sort of personification of justice ^ 
 
 Again, people look for the mean in a judge, and 
 sometimes give judges the name of "mediators,"^ 
 which implies that, if they attain the mean, they will 
 attain what is just That which is just then is, in a 
 sense, a mean, as the judge is a mean. 
 
 It is the judge's function to redress inequality. 
 It is as if a line were divided into unequal segments, 
 and he were to cut off" the amount by which the larger 
 of the two segments exceeds the half and to add it to 
 the smaller segment. It is when the whole is equally 
 divided into two segments that people are said to 
 have what belongs to them, as having received an 
 equal amount. This equal amount is an arithmetical 
 mean between the greater and the smaller lines. 
 This is in fact the reason why it is called "just" 
 
 1 The English words "judge," "just," "justice" may fairly 
 represent the connexion of biKaaTqs with to SUaiov. 
 
 ^ lifo-iSms is connected with fiia-os, as StKaarijs with Sixaior. 
 
 10—2 
 
148 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 (SUaiov), because the division is just an equal one^ 
 
 For when a part is cut off from one of two equals, 
 and added to the other, the second exceeds the first 
 by twice the part so added to it. For if the part had 
 been cut off from the one, and not added to the other, 
 the second would have exceeded the first by once 
 this part only. Therefore the line to which the 
 addition is made exceeds the mean by once this 
 part, and the mean exceeds the line by which the 
 part was cut off by once this part. This then wiU be 
 our means of ascertaining what it is necessary to 
 subtract from that which has too much, and what to 
 add to that which has too little. We must add to 
 that which has too little the amount by which the 
 mean exceeds it, and subtract from the greatest the 
 amount by which it exceeds the mean. Let the lines 
 A A', BB', OG', be equal to one another; let the 
 segment AE be subtracted fi-om AA' and the seg- 
 ment CD added to CC ; then the whole line DCC 
 exceeds EA' by CD and CZ, and therefore exceeds 
 BB by CD\ 
 
 1 The argument rests upon a false etymology ; for bUciios is 
 totally distinct from hixa. The next sentence, which is omitted 
 as being incapable of translation, means " It is equivalent to 
 calling TO hiKmov, hix<uov, and the StxaoTiji, hixturrfis" 
 
 ^ This sentence may be illustrated by a figure 
 
 A £ A 
 
 B. B 
 
 g Z C 
 
 It is assumed, although not stated, that AE, DC and CZ are all 
 equal 
 
CHAP. VIII. J OF ARISTOTLE. 149 
 
 *The terms "profit" and "loss" are derived from 
 voluntary exchange. For in such exchcmge, if a 
 person has more than what belongs to him, he is said 
 to be making profit, and if he has less than he had to 
 start with, he is said to be suffering loss; it is so 
 e.g. in buying and selling, and in all other transactions 
 which the law freely allows^. But when people get 
 as the result of exchange" exactly what they had at 
 the beginning, neither more nor less, they are said to 
 have what belongs to them and to be neither losers 
 nor gainers. 
 
 That which is just then in corrective justice is a 
 mean between profit and loss of a particular kind in 
 involuntary cases^ It implies that the parties to a 
 transaction have the same amount after it as before. 
 
 There are some people who hold that retaliation ° CHAP.vm. 
 
 Betalia- 
 tion. 
 ^ There can be no doubt that the sentence ecrn Se roiiro Koi eVi 
 
 rav aWatv re^vrnv .... ro(rovTov Kai towvtov, which Bekker, follow- 
 ing Trendelenburg, transfers to p. 89, 1. 7, is out of place here. 
 
 2 It is better to place a colon, instead of a full stop, after j/d/ioy 
 and a full stop, instead of a colon, after Kephaivtiv. 
 
 ' It seems to me that the true reading is auTa hi' ovtSv 
 ykvx]Tai and that it means " by using their original properties in 
 exchange come to possess those properties again or their exact 
 values, neither less nor morS." At all events avrd is=ra e'| 
 apxfis. 
 
 * The transactions in which profit and loss occur, although 
 they may be voluntary in their origin, are so far involuntary in 
 their result as the loser is not a consenting party to his loss ; 
 hence the words rwv irapa to eKova-iov may stand and may bear 
 their natural meaning. 
 
 6 The word " retaliation," which is the nearest English equiva- 
 lent of TO avrmfTTovdos, must not be understood as meaning only 
 requital of evil. 
 
150 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 is absolutely just. This was the doctrine of the 
 Pythagoreans, who defined justice absolutely as re- 
 taliation on one's neighbour. 
 
 But retaliation does not accord with the concep- 
 tion of either distributive or corrective justice, al- 
 though corrective justice is certainly what is intended 
 by the Rhadamanthine' rule: 
 
 "As a man's action, such his fate; 
 Then justice shall be true and straightV 
 
 The law of retaliation and the law of corrective justice 
 in many cases do not agree. For instance, if a person 
 who strikes another is a magistrate, he ought not to 
 be struck in return, and if a person strikes a magis- 
 trate, he ought not only to be struck but to be 
 punished. Again, it makes a great difference whether 
 what is done to a person is done with his consent or 
 against it, and the law of retaliation taJses no account 
 of this difference. Still in such associations as depend 
 upon exchange it is this kind of justice, viz. retalia- 
 tion, which is the bond of union ; but it is propor- 
 tionate, and not equal retaliation °; for it is propor- 
 tionate requital which holds a state together. 
 
 People seek to requite either evil or good. It 
 looks like slavery not to requite evil ; and if they do 
 not requite good, no interchange of services takes 
 place, and it is this interchange which holds society 
 together. It is thus that men build a temple of the 
 Graces in their streets to ensure reciprocity, as being 
 
 1 Bhadamanthus was one of the judges of the lower world. 
 
 2 A line ascribed to Hesiod. 
 
 3 "What Aristotle calls " equal retaliation" is the law of " An 
 eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth." 
 
CHAP. VIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 151 
 
 the peculiar characteristic of grace i; for it is our 
 duty to return the service of one who has been 
 gracious to us, and to take the initiative in showing 
 grace ourselves. 
 
 Now, proportionate requital is produced by cross- Propor- 
 conjunction'. Thus let A represent a builder, B are^^t^. 
 cobbler, C a house, and 2> a shoe. Then the builder 
 ought to receive from the cobbler some part of his 
 work, and to give him his own work in return. If 
 then there is proportionate equality in the first in- 
 stance, and retaliation or reciprocity follows, the 
 result of which we are speaking wiU be attained*. 
 Otherwise the exchange wiU not be equal or perma- 
 nent. For there is no reason why the work of the 
 one should not be superior to that of the other, and 
 
 1 The connexion of x«P" ^'t^ the xop'"? suggests the pro- 
 priety of adopting the English word "grace" in translating 
 this passage ; but x^P" is more strictly " favour " or " kindness " 
 than "grace." 
 
 2 " Cross-conjunction " is a technical term which may be 
 explained thus. Suppose that in 
 the figure, A is the builder, B 
 the cobbler, C the house and D 
 the shoes, suppose too that A is 
 combined with D and B with C, 
 then the proportion 
 
 A+I>:B+C::A : B, 
 
 is the result of " cross-conjunction.'' 
 
 3 I think it is clear that the case here supposed is one in 
 which two persons desiring to make an exchange of goods have 
 goods of equal value to exchange ; then the simple exchange of 
 one good for the other satisfies the law of retaliation or reci- 
 procity. 
 
152 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK V. 
 
 therefore they ought to be equalized. ('This is 
 equally the case with all the arts; they would be 
 destroyed, if the eflfect upon the patient were not, in 
 kind, quantity and quality, the same as the effort of 
 the agent.) For association is formed, not by two 
 doctors, but by a doctor and a husbandman, and 
 generally by people who are different, and not equal, 
 and who need to be equalized. It follows that such 
 things as are the subjects of exchange must in some 
 sense be comparable. This is the reason for the 
 Money. invention of money. Money is a sort of medium or 
 mean; for it measures everything and consequently 
 measures among other things excess or defect, e.g. 
 the number of shoes which are equivalent to a house 
 or a meal. As a builder then is to a cobbler, so 
 must so many shoes be to a house or a meal; for 
 otherwise there would be no exchange or association. 
 But this will be impossible, unless the shoes and the 
 house or meal are in some sense equalized. Hence 
 arises the necessity of a single universal standard of 
 measurement, as was said before. This standard is in 
 truth the demand for mutual services, which holds 
 society together ; for if people had no wants, or their 
 wants were dissimilar*, there would be either no 
 exchange, or it would not be the same as it is now. 
 
 1 The sentence transposed from p. 87,1. 31 is most conveniently 
 placed here, but at the beat it is an interruption of the argument. 
 It seems to mean that in such an art or science as e.g. medicine a 
 person by using certain means must be sure of producing certain 
 effects. 
 
 2 I understand by " dissimilar wants" wants which cannot be at 
 once supplied by mutual service. 
 
CHAP, vin.] oi/aristotle. 153 
 
 Money (vo/iia-fia) is a sort of recognized represen- 
 tative of this demand. That is the reason why it is 
 called money (v6/j.ia-/j,a), because it has not a natural 
 but a conventional (voficp) existence, and because it is 
 in our power to change it, and make it useless. 
 
 Retaliation or reciprocity wiU take place, when 
 the terms have been so equated that, as a husband- 
 man is to a cobbler, so is the cobbler's ware to the 
 husbandman's \ But we must bring the terms to a 
 figure of proportion not* after the exchange has 
 taken place — or one of the two extremes wiU have 
 both advantages i.e. mil have its superiority counted 
 ttoice over — but when both parties stiU retain their 
 own wares; they will then be equal and capable of 
 association, because it is possible to establish the 
 proper equality between them. Thus let A be a 
 husbandman, O food, B a cobbler, and D his wares, 
 
 1 Suppose the husbandman to ofiFer in exchange a quarter of 
 corn and the cobbler a certain number of pairs of boots ; it is 
 necessary to decide how many pairs of boots are equal in value to 
 a quarter of corn before reciprocity (to avriTreTrovdos) can take 
 place. 
 
 ^ The ov should be retained ; but it is desirable to treat the 
 words ei 8e fi^ . . . . axpov as parenthetical, and to place a comma 
 after aKpov and a colon after ra ovtSv. 
 
 If I understand this difficult sentence, it means that the 
 husbandman (in the case supposed above) having received in 
 exchange a number of pairs of boots calculated upon an estimate 
 of his commercial superiority to the cobbler must not claim to 
 have that superiority calculated again, when the exchange has 
 already been effected. But to erepov aKpov is an incorrect phrase 
 as the two parties of the exchange) are not the two oKpa in the 
 "figure of proportion." See note on p. 151 of this translation. 
 I incline to think that aKpov should be omitted. 
 
154 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 which are equated to the food. But if this kind of 
 reciprocity were impossible, there would be no asso- 
 ciation. 
 
 The fact that it is demand which is like a principle 
 of unity binding society together is evident because, 
 if there is no mutual demand on the part of two 
 persons, if neither of them or one only needs the 
 services of the other, they do not effect an exchange, 
 whereas, if somebody wants what somebody else has, 
 e.g. wine, they efifect an exchange, giving the wine e.g. 
 in return for the right of importing corn. Here then 
 the wine and the com must be equated. 
 
 Money is serviceable with a view to future ex- 
 change; it is a sort of security which we possess 
 that, if we do not want a thing now, we shall be able 
 to get it when we do want it ; for if a person brings 
 money, it must be in his power to get what he wants. 
 
 It is true that money is subject to the same laws 
 as other things; its value is not always the same; 
 still it tends to have a more constant value than any 
 thing else. All things, then, must have a pecuniary 
 value, as this will always facilitate exchange, and so 
 will facilitate association. 
 
 Money therefore is like a measure that equates 
 things, by making them commensurable ; for associa- 
 tion would be impossible without exchange, exchange 
 without equality, and equality without commensura- 
 bility. 
 
 Although it is in reality impossible that things 
 which are so widely different should become com- 
 mensurable, they may become sufficiently so for prac- 
 tical purposes. There must be some single standard 
 
CHAP. IX.] OF ARISTOTLE. 155 
 
 then, and that a standard upon which the world 
 agrees; hence it is called money (vo/tto-^ia)', for it is 
 this which makes all things commensurable, as money 
 is the universal standard of measurement. Let A be 
 a house, B ten minae, O a couch. Now A is half B 
 if the house is worth, or is equal to, five minae. Again, 
 the couch G is the tenth part of B. It is clear then 
 that the number of couches which are equal to a 
 house is five. It is clear too that this was the method 
 of exchange before the invention of money; for it 
 makes no diflerence whether it is five couches or the 
 value of five couches that we give in exchange for a 
 house. 
 
 The nature of the just and the unjust has now Chap. ix. 
 been described. The definitions which have been 
 given make it clear that just conduct is a mean be- 
 tween committing and suffering injustice; for to 
 commit injustice is to have too much, and to suffer it 
 is to have too little. But justice is a mean state, not Justice a 
 
 • ,1 11 .J 1 J J 'I J mean state 
 
 m the same sense as the virtues already described, b„t not in 
 but rather as aiming at the mean, while injustice geLfas* 
 aims at the extremes I It is justice which entitles o'lier vir- 
 the just man to be regarded as capable of deliberately 
 effecting what is just, and of making a distribution 
 whether between himself and somebody else, or be- 
 tween two other people, not in such a way as to give 
 himself too large, and his neighbour too smaU a share 
 
 1 Again, the point lies in the connexion of vo/ucrpi '' money '' 
 with wo/ios " convention " or " agreement." 
 
 ^ Justice then is distinguished from the other virtues, inasmuch 
 as the extremes of which it is the mean fall under the same, 
 instead of under different vices. 
 
156 THE mCOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 of what is desirable, and conversely to give himself 
 too small and his neighbour too large a share of what 
 is injurious, but to give both "himself and his neigh- 
 bour such a share as is proportionately equal, and to 
 do the same when the distribution is between other 
 people. Injustice on the contrary aims at that which 
 is unjust ; but that which is unjust is disproportionate 
 excess and defect of what is profitable or injurious. 
 Hence injustice is excess and defect, inasmuch as it 
 aims at excess and defect, viz, excess of what is 
 absolutely profitable, and defect of what is injurious 
 in one's own case, while in the cases of other people, 
 although they are generally similar, the violation of 
 proportion may take the form either of excess or of 
 defect. But the defect of unjust action is to suffer 
 injustice, the excess is to inflict it. 
 
 This then may be taken as a sufficient account of 
 
 the nature of justice and injustice respectively, and 
 
 similarly of that which is just or unjust in general. 
 
 Chap.x. But a person may do injustice without being 
 
 Mtion*not necessarily unjust. What then, is the nature of such 
 
 the same unjust actions that, if a person commits them, he is 
 
 thing as J . ± X. ■ i-i X 
 
 injustice, proved at once to be m some particular respect 
 unjust, e.g. to be a thief, an adulterer, or a robber? 
 I think the answer is that there is no such distinct 
 class of actions*, for a person may commit adultery 
 with a woman, knowing who she is, although he 
 commits it not from any original defect of moral 
 purpose, but from the passion of the moment. Such 
 
 1 It is not the action but the moral purpose, which makes 
 a man aSiKos : cp. p. 95, 1. 10 orav 5' ek irpoaipia-ems, abiKos xai 
 llox6r)p6s. 
 
CHAP. X.] OF ARISTOTLE. 157 
 
 a person then, although he commits an act of injustice, 
 la not unjust; thus he is not a thief, although he 
 committed a theft, nor an adulterer, although he 
 commit adultery, and so on\ 
 
 The relation of retaliation to justice has been 
 already described. But we must not forget that the 
 object of our inquiry is at once justice in an absolute 
 sense, and political justice" i.e. such justice as exists PoKticai 
 among people who are associated in a common life '*" *^' 
 with a view to independence, and who enjoy freedom 
 and equality whether proportionate or arithmetical'. 
 It follows that, where this condition does not exist, 
 people are not capable of mutual political justice, but 
 only of a certain justice which is analogous to it. For 
 justice, strictly so called, can exist only where the 
 relations* of people are determined by law, and the 
 existence of law implies injustice, as the administra- 
 tion Q/"justice is the determiaation of what is just and ' 
 
 ^ Dr Jackson transfers the first two sentences of ch. 10, p. 91, 
 IL 18 — 26 to p. 95, 1. 9, and the transference is clearly an 
 improvement especially as the third sentence resumes the subject 
 of retaliation and of justice generally. There is no such reason, I 
 think, for disturbing the position of the words iras luv oSv cx« . . . 
 eiptjTai TTporepoK 11. 26, 27. 
 
 2 I apprehend that "political justice" is not the same as 
 "justice in an absolute sense" but is, as Dr Jackson says, "the 
 most perfect representation of it." See p. 92, IL 15, sqq. Aristotle 
 is led to a special consideration of " political justice '' by the 
 political view which he always took of Ethics. 
 
 s In an aristocracy or oligarchy the "equality " is, in Aristotle's 
 language, " proportionate," in a democracy it is " arithmetical." 
 The condition of "freedom" excludes the slave population from 
 participation in "political justice." 
 
 * jrpos avToiig is better than irpog ovtovs. 
 
158 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 unjust. But injustice implies unjust action, although 
 unjust action does not always imply injustice, and 
 tmjust action consists in assigning to oneself an un- 
 duly large share of such things as are good in an 
 absolute sense, and an unduly small share of such 
 things as are bad in an absolute sense. Hence we 
 submit to the authority, not of an individual, but of 
 the statute book, because an individual is apt to 
 exercise his authority in his own interests, and to 
 make himself despot. 
 
 The magistrate is a guardian of justice, and, if of 
 
 justice, then of equality. It seems that he gains no 
 
 advantage /rom Ais q^e, as he is assumed to be just; 
 
 for he does not assign to himself a larger share of 
 
 what is absolutely good, unless indeed it be proper- . 
 
 tionate to his own merit. Hence he labours' in the 
 
 interest of others ; which is the reason why justice is 
 
 p. 138. called the good of others, as we said before. Some 
 
 reward therefore must be given him in the shape of 
 
 honour or privilege ; and it is when a magistrate is not 
 
 content with these rewards that he makes himself 
 
 despot. 
 
 Jnstice of Justice, as between masters and slaves, or between 
 
 STddaves, fathers and children, is not the same as political 
 
 '^^^gjj""* justice, i.e. justice between citizen cmd citizen, although 
 
 it resembles it, for a man cannot commit injustice in 
 
 an absolute or strict sense against what is his own; 
 
 but his property" and his children, until they reach a 
 
 ^ Reading novel. 
 
 2 It must be remembered that a slave was as much a KTJjfia of 
 his master as any other chatteL 
 
CHAP. X.] OF ARISTOTLE. 159 
 
 certain age and become independent*, are, as it were, 
 parts of himself, and nobody deliberately chooses to 
 hurt himself; hence injustice to oneself is an im- 
 possibility. It follows that political justice and in- 
 justice are also impossible in the rdation of a master 
 to slaves or of a father to children; for they depend, 
 as we said, upon law, and exist only where law has a p. 157. 
 natural existence i.e. among people who, as we saw, 
 enjoy equality of rule and subjection. There is 
 more scope then for justice in relation to a wife 
 than in relation to children and property, for this, 
 i.e. justice in the relation of husband and i<»/b, Jnstice of 
 is domestic justice, although this again is different ana wSe.. 
 from political justice. 
 
 Political justice is partly natural and partly con- Political 
 ventional. ^■"'"'"■ 
 
 The part which is natural is that which has the (i) natural, 
 same authority everywhere, and is independent of 
 opinion ; that which is conventional is such that it (?) conven- 
 does not matter in the first instance whether it takes 
 one form or another, it only matters when it has been 
 laid down, e.g. that the ransom of a prisoner should 
 be a mina, or that a goat, and not two sheep, should 
 be offered in sacrifice, and all legislative enactments 
 which are made in particular cases, as the sacrifice in 
 honour of Brasidas" at Amphipolis, and the provisions 
 of an Act of Parliament. 
 
 It is the opinion of some people that all the rules 
 of justice are conventional, because that which is 
 
 1 The MSS. authority is in favour of omitting /xi) before 
 
 2 See Thucydides v. ch. 11. 
 
160 THE mCOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 natural is immutable and has the same authority 
 everywhere, as fire bums equally here and in Persia, 
 but they see the rules of justice continually altering. 
 
 But this is not altogether true, although it is true 
 to some extent. Among the gods indeed it is pro- 
 bably not true at aU; but in this world, although 
 there is such a thing as natural justice, still all justice 
 is variable. Nevertheless there is a justice which is, 
 as well as a justice which is not, natural. 
 
 Within the sphere of the contingent it is easy to 
 see what kind of thing it is that is natural, and what 
 kind that is not natural but legal and conventional, 
 both kinds being similarly variable. The same dis- 
 tinction will apply to other cases ; thus the right hand 
 is naturally stronger than the left, although there is 
 nobody' who may not acquire the power of using both 
 hands alike. 
 
 Such rules of justice as depend on convention and 
 convenience may be compared to standard measures ; 
 for the measures of wine and corn are not everywhere 
 equal, but are larger where people buy and smaller 
 where they seU'. Similarly, such rules of justice as 
 exist not by nature, but by the will of Man, are not 
 everywhere the same, as polities themselves are not 
 everywhere the same, although there is everywhere 
 only one naturally perfect polity. 
 
 But every rule of justice or law stands to indivi- 
 
 '■ Beading wavras with the MSS. 
 
 2 The buyers and sellers are, I conceive, the same people, viz. 
 merchants who make wholesale purchases and sell them by retail. 
 So Dr Jackson, who translates " being larger in wholesale, and 
 smaller in retail, markets." 
 
CHAP. X.] OF AKISTOTLE. 161 
 
 dual actions in the relation of the universal to par- 
 ticulars; for while actions are numerous, every such 
 rule is one, as being universal. 
 
 There is a difference between an act of injustice 
 and that which is unjust, between an act of justice 
 and that which is just. A thing is unjust by nature, 
 or by ordinance ; but this very' thing, when it is done, 
 is an act of injustice, although, before it is done, it is 
 only unjust. The same is true of an act of justice ^ 
 But the several kinds of acts of justice, or injustice, 
 their number, and their sphere, will form subjects of 
 investigation hereafter. 
 
 "" Such being the things which are just and unjust, 
 a person may be said to act justly or unjustly when 
 he does them voluntarily. When he does them m- 
 voluntarily, he does not act justly or unjustly, except 
 in an accidental sense, i.e. he does what is accidentally 
 just or unjust. 
 
 The definition of an act of justice or injustice Voinntary 
 depends upon its voluntary or involuntary character; of just a^d 
 for when it is voluntary, it is open to censure, and it ^?^' 
 is then also an act of injustice. It will be unjust then 
 in a sense, but will not amount to an act of injustice, 
 if it lacks voluntariness. 
 
 By a voluntary action I mean, as has been already Voluntary 
 
 . J 1 I. . . ) 1 . action. 
 
 said, such an action as is m a person s power, and is p. 64. 
 
 J- The best MSS. give airo 8e tovto. 
 
 ^ After this sentence Aristotle remarks that the word for au 
 " act of justice " is generally bmaumpayrifui, hixalaiia being re- 
 stricted in meaning to the " correction of an act of injustice " but 
 the remark, as it turns upon the correct use of the Greek words, 
 is untranslateable. 
 
 W. N. E. 11 
 
162 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 performed by him knowingly, and not in ignorance of 
 the person to whom he does it, or of the instrument 
 with which he does it, or of the result, e.g. of the 
 person whom he strikes, and the instrument with 
 which he strikes, and the effect of his blow ; and not 
 only so, but he must not perform it accidentally or 
 under compulsion ; for if a person e.g. were to seize 
 his hand and strike somebody else with it, it would not 
 be a voluntary action, as not being in his own power. 
 Again, it is possible that the person struck may be his 
 father, and that he may know him to be a man or 
 some one who is present, but may not know him to 
 be his father. The same sort of distinction must be 
 made in regard to the effect and to the action gene- 
 rally. If an action is done in ignorance, or, although 
 not done in ignorance, is not in a person's power, or 
 if he is compelled to do it, it is involuntary ; for there 
 are many things in the course of nature which we 
 both do and suffer with full knowledge but which are 
 not either voluntary or involuntary, as e.g. growing 
 old or dying. 
 
 The accidental character may belong equally to 
 just and unjust actions. Thus a person may restore 
 a deposit involuntarily and from motives of fear; 
 but in that case it is not right to say that he does 
 what is just or that his conduct is just, except acci- 
 dentally. Similarly, if a person under compulsion and 
 involuntarily refuses to restore a deposit, he must 
 be said to be unjust and to do what is unjust acci- 
 dentally. 
 
 Voluntary actions we perform either with or with- 
 out deliberate purpose — with it, if we perform them 
 
€HAP. X.] OF ARISTOTLE. 163 
 
 after previous deliberation, and without it, if without 
 such deliberation. 
 
 There are three ways in which people may hurt 
 each other in society. An action done in ignorance 
 is called a mistake, when the person affected, or the Mistake. 
 thing done, or the instrument, or the effect, is not 
 such as the agent supposed. For instance, he sup- 
 posed that he would not hit or would not hit with 
 the particular instrument or would not hit the par- 
 ticular person, or that the blow would not have the 
 particular effect ; but the effect proved different from 
 his expectation, e.g. it was his intention to prick a 
 person, and not to wound him, or the person was 
 different, or the instrument'. 
 
 Now when the hurt done is contrary to expecta- Mishap. 
 tion, it is a mishap; but when, although it is not 
 contrary to expectation, it does not imply malice, it 
 is a mistake ; for a person makes a mistake, when the 
 original culpability lies in himself, but he meets with 
 a mishap, when it lies outside himself. When a 
 person acts with knowledge, but without deliberation, 
 it is an act of injustice, as in all human actions which Act of 
 arise from anger and other necessary or natural ^'"^ "^' 
 emotions; for in doing such hurt, and making such 
 mistakes we are unjust, and they are acts of injustice, 
 but it does not foUow that we are at once unjust or 
 vicious, as the hurt is not the consequence of vice. 
 
 But when the action is the result of deliberate injustice. 
 
 ^ Beading <S for as. 
 
 ^ The distinction seems tolerably clear : a person may do 
 something with knowledge, but without malice, then it is d/«jp- 
 Ttjua ; or he may do it quite unintentionally, then it is dnixiiio. 
 
 11—2 
 
164 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 purpose, the agent is unjust and wicked. Hence it is 
 rightly held that such actions as arise from anger are 
 not done of malice prepense ; for it is not he who acts 
 in anger, but he who provoked the anger, that begins 
 the quarrel. 
 
 Again, in cases of anger it is not whether tlie deed 
 was done or not but whether it was just that is the 
 question in dispute; for anger arises at the appear- 
 ance of injustice. It is not as in contracts, where two 
 parties dispute about the fact, and one of them must 
 be a rascal, unless they are acting in forgetfulness. 
 Here they agree as to the fact, but they dispute as to 
 the side on which justice lies. The case of a deli- 
 berate aggressor is diiferent ; he knows on which side 
 justice lies\ Hence the person who acts in anger 
 thinks he is injured, the deliberate aggressor does not 
 think so. 
 
 If a person hurts another from deliberate moral 
 purpose, he acts unjustly. Such acts of injustice 
 necessarily prove a man who acts unjustly to be 
 imjust, when they are violations of proportion or 
 equality. Similarly a person is just, if he acts justly 
 from deliberate moral purpose"; but he acts justly if 
 he merely acts voluntarily, although, it may he, not 
 deliberately. 
 
 Involuntary actions are either venial, or not. They 
 are venial, if they are mistakes committed not only in » » 
 ignorance but from ignorance; but if they are not 
 committed from ignorance but in ignorance, and from 
 
 ^ There should, I think, be a full stop after dymei. 
 
 2 The full stop after diKaumpay^ should be a colon or a 
 
CHAP. XI. j OF ARISTOTLE. 165 
 
 an emotion which is neither natural nor human, they 
 are not venial. 
 
 It may be doubted if we have adequately defined Chap. xi. 
 what is meant by suflFering and committing injustice, ofl^^^/g 
 In the first place is it the case, as Euripides puts it in injustice 
 his strange way, tarUy. 
 
 "I killed my mother, that 's the tale in brief. 
 Were you both willing or unwilling both'?" 
 
 In other words, is it really possible for a person to 
 suflFer injustice voluntarily? or is the suffering of in- 
 justice always involuntary, as the committing of it is 
 always volimtary? Again, is the suffering of injustice 
 always voluntary or always involuntary, as the com- 
 mitting of it is always voluntary ; or is it sometimes 
 voluntary and sometimes involuntary? 
 
 The same question may be raised in regard to just 
 treatment ; for as all just action and all unjust action 
 is voluntary, it is reasonable to suppose that the 
 voluntariness or involuntariness of being justly and 
 unjustly treated should similarly correspond to the 
 voluntariness or involuntariness of acting justly and 
 unjustly. But it would seem absurd to say that 
 everybody who is justly treated is so treated volun- 
 tarily, as there are some people who are justly treated 
 involuntarily. There is in fact the further question 
 
 1 The quotati(m is said to come from the Bellerophon ; but it 
 more probably comes from the Alcmmon. For Alcmseon the son 
 of Amphiaraus slew his mother Briphyle who had betrayed his 
 father to death. 
 
 I adopt Dindorf 's reading 
 
 fUjTipa KareKTav rrfv iiitjV, fipaxvs Xoyos. 
 fKmv €Kova-av rj ov diKovaav ovx ^Ktov ; 
 
166 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 which may be raised, Is every one who suffers wliat is 
 unjust unjustly treated, or is it true of suffering 
 injustice as well as of committing it, that it depends 
 upon a certain moral purpose"^. It is possible that 
 the justice, whether in acting justly or in being 
 treated justly, may come in only incidentally, and the 
 same is clearly true of injustice. For it is not the 
 same thing to do what is unjust as to commit injustice, 
 nor to suffer what is unjust as to suffer injustice ; and 
 this is equally true of acting justly and being justly 
 treated ; for it is impossible to be treated justly or 
 unjustly, unless there is somebody who acts justly or 
 unjustly. 
 
 If then to do injustice means simply to hurt some- 
 body voluntarily, and voluntariness implies knowledge 
 of the person, the instrument, and the manner, then 
 an incontinent person, if he hurts himself voluntarily, 
 will voluntarily suffer injustice, and it will be possible 
 to commit injustice to oneself. (The possibility of 
 committing injustice to oneself is another difficult 
 question'.) Again, a person may through incontinence 
 be voluntarily hurt by another person acting volun- 
 tarily, and if so, it is possible to suffer injustice 
 voluntarily. 
 
 But perhaps this definition is incorrect, and we 
 must add to the words "hurting with knowledge of 
 the person, the instrument, and the manner," the 
 words "contrary to the person's wish." Thus a person 
 may be hurt, and may suffer what is unjust, volun- 
 
 1 The sentence in brackets is a sort of note, which may or may 
 not be in its true place here. It naturally connects itself with 
 ch. 12. 
 
CHAP. XII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 167 
 
 tarily, but he cannot be the voluntary victim of 
 injustice. For nobody, not even the incontinent 
 person, wishes to be hurt ; but the incontinent person 
 acts contrary to his wish*. For nobody wishes what 
 he does not think to be good, and the incontinent 
 person does not do what he thinks it his duty to do. 
 But he who gives his own property, as Glaucus gives 
 Diomedes in Homer 
 
 "Gold gifts for bronze, a hundred beeves for nine 2," 
 
 suffers no injustice, for it is in his own power to give, 
 but it is not in his own power to suffer injustice, as 
 injustice presupposes an unjust agent. It is clear 
 then that the suffering of injustice is not voluntary. 
 
 It still remains to discuss two of the questions Chap. xn. 
 which we proposed viz. (1.) Is it he who assigns to 
 somebody else more than he deserves, or he who 
 enjoys it, that comraite injustice? (2.) Can a person 
 do injustice to himself? 
 
 For if the first supposition is possible, i.e. if it is 
 the distributor, and not the recipient of the excessive 
 share, who commits the injustice, then, if a person 
 knowingly and voluntarily assigns more to another 
 than to himself, he does injustice to himself. This 
 is what moderate people are thought to do ; for the 
 virtuous or equitable man is inclined to take less than 
 
 ^ The suffering of injustice, in Aristotle's view, may possess 
 the characteristic of voluntariness but not of wish ; in other 
 words a person may voluntarily do himself hurt but cannot 
 voluntarily do himself injustice. But, if so, his language is not 
 free from obscurity. 
 
 '' Iliad vi. 236. 
 
168 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 his due. Perhaps however the case is not so simple 
 as it seems ; for it may happen that in assigning more 
 of some good to another than to himself a person 
 aspired to gain an excessive share of some other good, 
 e.g. reputation or absolute nobleness. , Or the question 
 may be answered by reference to the definition of 
 committing injustice; for in the supposed case the 
 distributor suffers nothing contrary to his own wish, 
 consequently he is not unjustly treated, at least on 
 this account, but at most is only hurt. It is evident 
 too, that it is the distributor who commits the in- 
 justice, and in all cases not the recipient of the 
 excessive share. For it does not follow, if a person 
 possesses what is unjust, that he commits injustice, 
 but only if he voluntarily does it, and this is the case 
 with the person who originates the action, i.e. with 
 the distributor, and not with the recipient. 
 
 Again, there are various senses of the word "do." 
 There is a sense in which inanimate things may be 
 said to commit murder, or in which the hand, or a 
 servant at his master's bidding, may be said to com- 
 mit it. But these do not commit injustice, although 
 they may do what is unjust. 
 
 Again, if the distributor gave his judgment in 
 ignorance, he does not commit injustice in the eye of 
 the law, nor is his judgment unjust, except in a 
 particular sense, as there is a difference between legal 
 justice and primordial justice^ ; but if he knowingly 
 
 1 " Primordial justice" (to irpaTop tUaiov) is abstract or uni- 
 versal justice, independent of such legislative or judicial enactments 
 as exist in particular states. 
 
CHAP, XIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 169 
 
 pronounced an unjust judgment, he is aiming at a 
 larger share of popularity or revenge than he ought 
 to have. And if he is induced by such motives as 
 these to pronounce an unjust judgment, he is an 
 unfeir gainer as truly as if he were to participate in 
 the unjust award; for even, in that case he who 
 adjudged a plot of land unjustly would receive not 
 land but money. 
 
 People suppose it is in. their own power to commit Chap-XHi. 
 injustice, and therefore suppose it is easy to be just. S'^S 
 But that is not the case. For it may be easy and in 
 our own power to commit adultery with our neigh- 
 bour's wife, or to strike somebody else, or to give 
 away money ; but it is not easy, nor is it in our own 
 power, to do these things from a certain moral state. 
 
 Similarly, people suppose it requires no special 
 wisdom to understand what is unjust, as it is not 
 difficult to comprehend the actions prescribed by law; 
 but these actions are not just actions except acci- 
 dentally, they are just only if the action or distribu- 
 tion assumes a particular form. It is a harder task to 
 imderstand just actions as so defined than to under- 
 stand the means of health, although that too is any- 
 thing but easy. For here it is easy to understand 
 tiie nature of honey, wine, hellebore, cautery, and the 
 knife; but to know how and to whom, and on what 
 occasions they must be applied, to produce health, is 
 as difficult a task as to be a doctor. 
 
 The same idea leads people to suppose that it is 
 not less characteristic of the just man to act unjustly 
 than to act justly ; for the just man will be not less 
 but actually better able than anybody else to perform 
 
170 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [BOOK V. 
 
 such actions as committing adultery, or dealing a 
 blow, and the brave man to throw away his shield, 
 turn tail, and run in any direction. But cowardice 
 and injustice consist not in doing what is cowardly 
 and unjust except accidentally, but in doing it from a 
 certain moral state, just as 1ihe art of medicine or 
 healing consists not in using or not using the knife, 
 nor in giving or not giving drugs, btit in a particular 
 science of doing so. 
 
 The rules of justice apply to people who partici- 
 pate in such things as are absolutely good, altliough 
 it is possible to have too much or too little of therft ; 
 for to some beings, e.g. perhaps to the gods, there is 
 no possibility of having too much of these goods, 
 while to others, the incurably wicked, there is no such 
 thing as a beneficial share of them Jiowever small it 
 may be, but, whatever their share may be, it wiU be 
 hurtful. To most men, however, they are beneficial 
 up to a certain point; hence justice is essentially 
 human, i.e. it affects the muttml relations of men as 
 men. 
 Chap. XIV. We have next to discuss equity, and the equitable. 
 Equity, j g ^hc relation of equity to justice, and of that which 
 is equitable to that which is just. For it appears 
 upon investigation that they are not absolutely the 
 same, nor generically different. Sometimes too we 
 praise that which is equitable, and the equitable man, 
 and actually apply the word metaphorically as a term 
 of praise to otlier objects, using it as an equivalent' 
 
 ^ The Greek word eVteiKiJs means "virtuous" as well as- 
 " equitable." 
 
CHAP. XIV. J OF ARISTOTLE. 171 
 
 for good, and meaning, that the more equitable of 
 two things is the better. But there are other times 
 when, as we pursue our reflexions, we feel it to be a 
 paradox that the equitable, if it be diflerent from the 
 just, should be laudable ; for we argue that, if that is 
 so, either the just is not good, or the equitable is not 
 good', if it be different, or, if both be good, they are 
 identical. 
 
 These are, I think, the considerations which give 
 rise to the difficulty respecting the equitable. But 
 they are all in a manner correct, and not inconsistent ; 
 for that which is equitable, although it is better than 
 that which is just in one aspect of the word "justice," 
 is yet itself just, and is not better than what is just in 
 the sense of being generically distinct from it. It 
 follows that the just and the equitable are the same 
 thing, and that, while both are good, the equitable is 
 better. 
 
 The difficulty arises from the fact that, while that 
 which is equitable is just, it is not just in the eye of 
 the law, but is a rectification of legal justice. And 
 the reason is that all law is couched in genei'al terms, 
 but there are some cases upon which it is impossible 
 to pronounce correctly in general terms. Accordingly, 
 where a general statement is necessary, but such a 
 statement cannot be correct, the law embraces the 
 majority of cases, although it does not ignore the 
 element of error. Nor is it the less correct on this 
 account ; for the error lies not in the law, nor in the 
 legislature, but in the nature of the case. For it is 
 
 1 Omitting ov Sixawv. 
 
172 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 plainly impossible to pronounce with complete accu- 
 racy upon such a subject-matter as human action'. 
 
 Whenever then the terms of the law are general, 
 but the particular case is an exception to the general 
 law, it is right, where the legislator's rule is inadequate 
 or erroneous in virtue of its generality, to rectify the 
 defect which the legislator himself, if he were present, 
 would admit, and had he known it, would have recti- 
 fied in legislating. 
 
 That which is equitable then is just, and better 
 than one kind of justice, not indeed better than 
 absolute justice, but better than the error of justice 
 which arises from legal generality. This is in fact the 
 nature of the equitable; it is a rectification of law 
 where it fails through generality. For the reason 
 why things are not all determined by law is that 
 there are some things about which it is impossible to 
 lay down a law and for which a special decree is 
 therefore necessary. For where the thing to be 
 measured is indefinite the rule must be indefinite, 
 like the leaden rule" that is used in Lesbian archi- 
 tecture ; for as the rule is not rigid but adapts itself 
 to the shape of the stone, so does the decree to the 
 circumstances of the case. 
 
 We see then what is the nature of equity, and 
 
 * In the sentence I have ventured to expand the sense of 
 Toiavrrj which sums up, as often in Plato and Aristotle, the general 
 idea of the context. 
 
 2 What the " leaden rule " was is clear from the passage itself, 
 but there is some reason to think that the polygonal masonry 
 used in Lesbian buildings required a flexible or self-adapting 
 rule. 
 
CHAP. XV.] OP ARISTOTLE. 173 
 
 that it is just, and what is the justice to wliich it is 
 superior. 
 
 From this it is easy to see the nature of the equit- 
 able man; for one who in his moral purpose and 
 action aims at doing what is equitable, who does not 
 insist upon his rights to the damage of his neighbours, 
 but is content to take less than is his due, although 
 he has the law on his side, is equitable, and his moral 
 state is equity which is a kind of justice, and not a 
 different moral state. 
 
 The foregoing considerations^ clear up the ques- Chap. xv. 
 tion whether it is possible for a person to act unjustly 
 to himself or not. For justice, in one of its senses, 
 includes such exercise of the several virtues as are 
 prescribed by law. Thus the law does not allow 
 suicide, and whatever it does not allow it forbids. Suicide. 
 Again, when a person voluntarily hurts another in 
 defiance of the law, not by way of retaliation, he 
 commits injustice voluntarily, "voluntarily" meaning 
 "with knowledge of the person and the instru- 
 ment." But a man, who cuts his throat in a fit 
 of anger, does so voluntarily in defiance of right 
 reason, and this the law does not allow ; accordingly 
 he may be said to act unjustly. But unjustly to 
 whom? Surely to the state, and not to himself; for 
 he suffers voluntarily, but no one is voluntarily 
 treated with injustice. That is the reason why it is 
 the state which infiicts a penalty, i.e. attaches a certain 
 
 1 It cannot be said that the passage which begins here follows 
 naturally upon the consideration of equity. Dr Jackson would place 
 it at p. 98, 1. 2. 
 
174 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK V. 
 
 ignominy to the suicide as acting unjustly to the 
 state. 
 
 Again, in the sense in which a man is said to be 
 unjust, if he merely commits injustice and is not 
 entirely vicious' it is impossible for him to act un- 
 justly to himself. (This is a different case from the last ; 
 for the unjust man here may be said to be wicked in 
 the same sense as the coward, not as possessing an 
 entirely wicked character nor as exhibiting such a 
 character in his injustice, but as wicked in a particular 
 and limited sensed) Otherwise it would be possible 
 for the same thing to be subtracted from and added 
 to the same person. But this is an impossibility; 
 the words "just" and "unjust" necessarily imply more 
 persons than one. 
 
 Again, an act of injustice is not only voluntary 
 and deliberate but prior in time to the injury received. 
 (A person who retaliates because of wrong done to 
 him, and retaliates on the same scale, is not regarded 
 as acting unjustly^) But if a person can act unjustly 
 to himself, he will be simultaneously the author and 
 victim of the same injustice. Again, if a person could 
 act unjustly to himself, it would be possible for him 
 to suffer injustice involuntarily. 
 
 Further, nobody commits injustice without com- 
 mitting some particular act of injustice ; but nobody 
 commits adultery with his own wife, or breaks into 
 his own house, or steals his own property. 
 
 1 i.e. when his action, but not his moral purpose, is unjust. 
 ^ The sentence is bracketed, as being parenthetical ; it merely 
 explains the difference between general and particular injustice. 
 ' Again I conceive the sentence to be parenthetical. 
 
CHAP. XV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 175 
 
 But the whole question whether a person can act 
 unjustly to himself is settled by the answer which we 
 gave to the question whether a person can be volun- 
 tarily treated with injustice. 
 
 'It is evident that it is bad to suffer injustice and 
 bad to commit it ; for the one is to have less and the 
 other to have more than the mean, and the mean 
 corresponds to what is healthful in medicine and 
 productive of a good condition in gymnastic. Still it 
 is worse to commit injustice than to suffer it ; for the 
 committing of injustice is censurable and implies vice, 
 whether complete and absolute vice or an approxima- 
 tion to it (for it is not every voluntary unjust action 
 which implies injustice) but the suffering of injustice 
 does not imply vice or injustice. The suffering then 
 is in itself the less evil, although it may well prove 
 accidentally the greater. Science however does n.ot 
 concern itself with such a possibility as this ; it calls 
 pleurisy a more serious mischief than a stumble, 
 although the latter may be accidentally worse than 
 pleurisy, e.g. if a man should happen to stumble, and 
 so to fall, and in consequence of his fall should be 
 taken prisoner by the enemy and put to death. 
 
 Speaking metaphorically, or by analogy, we may injustice to 
 say that there is a justice, not indeed between a man 
 and himself, but between certain parts of himself, I 
 do not mean justice in all its senses, but such justice 
 as occurs in the relation of master and slave or of the 
 
 1 The loose structure of this chapter is shown by the passage 
 which occurs here p. 101, 11. 8 — 22, interrupting, as it does, the 
 discussion of self-injury or injustice to oneself. 
 
176 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [bOOK V. 
 
 diflferent members of a family, for in these discussions 
 the rational and the irrational parts of the soul are 
 kept distinct. It is this distinction of parts that 
 people have in view when they hold that a person is 
 capable of injustice to himself, because these parts 
 are liable to suffer something contrary to their mcli- 
 nations ; hence there exists some such justice between 
 them as the justice between ruler and subject. 
 
 This then may be taken as a sufficient description 
 of justice, and the other moral virtues. 
 
BOOK yi. 
 
 We have already stated that it is right to choose Chap.i. 
 the mean rather than the excess or deficiency, and of the 
 that the mean is such as right reason prescribes. It ™™°' 
 is time then to explain this definition of the mean. 
 
 In all the moral states which we have described, 
 as well as in others, there is some object which the 
 rational man keeps in view in intensifying or relaxing 
 his activity ; in other words, there is a certain criterion 
 of the mean states which lie, as we hold, between 
 the excess and the deficiency, and are in accordance 
 with right reason. 
 
 But this statement, although it is true, is not 
 explicit. For in all such studies as admit of scien- 
 tific treatment, it is true enough that we ought not to 
 take too much or too little trouble or ease, but to 
 observe "the mean as right reason prescribes"; but 
 if we tell a person only this, he wOl not be any 
 wiser than before; he will not know e.g. what sort 
 of remedies ought to be applied to the body, if he be 
 told merely that they are all such as medicine or 
 a medical man prescribes. Similarly therefore in 
 
 W. N. E. 12 
 
178 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [B9j3^K: VI. 
 
 regard to the moral states of the soul it is necessary 
 not only that the rule laid down should be a true^ne 
 but also that the nature of right reason, and of tKe 
 criterion which it supplies, should be determined. 
 Caip. n. We distinguished the virtues of the soul as being 
 liiSiec- either virtues of the character or virtues of the mind. 
 tuaivir- ^g havc discusscd' the moral virtues and we may 
 now consider the others; but there is a preliminary 
 remark to be made upon the soul itself. _r ^-^^ ^ 
 
 p. 31. It was laid down before that there are two parts 
 
 and ir- of the soul, the rational and the irrational. We must 
 partsof "ow make a similar division of the rational part. 
 the soni. Lg^ \^ ]3g assumed then that the rational elements 
 
 o/the"^ are two, viz. (1) that with which we contemplate such 
 partof the existences" as have invariable principles and (2) that 
 soul into with which we contemplate such as are variable. 
 For, when things are generically different, there must 
 be generically different parts of the soul which are 
 naturally correspondent to each of them, as the know- 
 ledge which these parts possess of such things is due 
 to a certain similarity and affinity between the parts 
 themselves and the things. 
 
 (1) the Let one of these parts be called the scientific and 
 
 (2) the the other the ratiocinative part. For deliberation 
 tiTO°part ^^^ ratiocination are identical; but nobody delibe- 
 rates upon such things as are invariable. The ratio- 
 cinative then is one part of the rational part of the 
 soul. 
 
 It is necessary therefore to ascertain what is the 
 
 ' In Books u — ^v. 
 
 * The difference between the two kinds of existences is the 
 ^difference between necessary and contingent truths. 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 179 
 
 perfect state of each of these parts of the soul ; for 
 the perfect state will be the virtue of each. But its 
 virtue will be relative to its proper function. 
 
 There are three feculties in the soul which deter- Deter- 
 mine action and truth, viz. sensation, reason \ and of action 
 appetite or desire. andtmth. 
 
 Of these, sensation cannot originate any action, as Sensation. 
 13 plain from the fact that the brutes possess sensa- 
 tion but are incapable of moraP action. 
 
 If we pass to the other fcuadties, we see thai 
 pursuit and avoidance in the appetite or desire cor- Appetite or 
 respond to afBrmation and denial in the intellect; Reason. 
 hence as moral virtue is a state of deliberate moral 
 purpose, and moral purpose is deliberative desire, 
 it follows that the reason must be true and the desire 
 must be right, if the moral purpose is good, and that 
 what the reason affirms the desire must pursue. 
 
 Now intellect and truth as so defined are practical Apprehen- 
 or moral. But the good and evil of the speculative tirath°the 
 intellect, which is neither practical nor productive, of^e°" 
 are simply abstract truth and falsehood. For the ™*«^''' 
 function of the intellect generally is the apprehension moral or 
 of truth ; but the function of the practical intellect is If^, 
 the apprehension of truth in conformity with right 
 desire. 
 
 Moral purpose then is the origin of action, i.e. the Moral pnr- 
 original motive, but not the final cause; and thcod^naf 
 origin of moral purpose is desire or reason directed ^°^J^_ °^ 
 
 1 It would not be right to limit vovs in this passage to intuitive 
 reason. 
 
 ^ The word "moral" must be inserted to give the force of the 
 Aristotelian, or rather Eudemian, trpa^K. 
 
 12—2 
 
180 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK VI. 
 
 to a certain end. Moral purpose then implies reason 
 or intellect on the one hand, and a certain moral 
 state on the other ; for right action and its opposite 
 in action are impossible without both intellect and 
 character. 
 
 The mere intellect has no motive power ; it must 
 be intellect directed to a certain end, in other words 
 it must be practical. For the practical intellect 
 governs the productive, as every producer has an 
 object in producing, and the thing produced is not an 
 end in itself, but is relative or conducive to some- 
 thing else. But action is an end in itself; for right 
 action is an end, and this is the object of desire. 
 
 The moral purpose then may be defined as desi- 
 derative reason or intellectual desire i.e. as reason 
 qualified by desire or desire qualifijed by intelligence; 
 and it is this originative faculty which makes a man. 
 The past Nothing that is past can be an object of the moral 
 
 obleS^of purpose. Nobody for instance proposes to have 
 moral pur- sacked Ilium; for we deliberate not upon what is 
 past but upon what is fixture Or contingent ; but the 
 past cannot be undone. Thus Agathon says rightly 
 enough 
 
 "God himself lacks this powev alone 
 To make what has been done undone." 
 
 It appears then that the apprehension of truth is 
 the function of both the intellectual parts of the soul. 
 We may conclude therefore that the state which will 
 best enable each of these parts to arrive at the truth 
 will be its excellence or virtue. 
 Chap. HI. Let US go back then and resume the discussion of 
 these virtues. 
 
 pose. 
 
CHAP. III. J OF ARISTOTLE. 181 
 
 We may take it that the means by which the soul Means of 
 arrives at truth in affirmation or denial are five in aUrSh. 
 number, viz. art, science, prudence, wisdom, and 
 intuitive reason; for conception and opinion admit 
 the possibility of falsehood. 
 
 The nature of "science" is clear from the follow- (i) Science. 
 ing considerations, if we must use exact language and 
 not be led away by analogies\ 
 
 We aU conceive that that which we know, i.e. that 
 which is an object of science, is invariable. As to 
 things which are not invariable, they are no sooner 
 out of our sight than we cannot tell whether they 
 do or do not exist. It follows that the object of 
 science is necessary. It is therefore eternal; for aU 
 such things as are necessary in themselves are eter- 
 nal, and that which is eternal admits neither of 
 generation nor of corruption, i.e. it has neither begin- 
 ning nor end. 
 
 Agfiin, it may be said that all science is capable of 
 being taught, and that that which is an object of 
 science is capable of being learnt. But all teaching 
 depends upon pre-existing knowledge, as we say e.g. 
 in the Analytics^. It proceeds either by induction or 
 by syllogism. Now induction is a first principle and 
 leads to the universal, but syllogisms start from uni- 
 versals. There are first principles then from which 
 syllogisms start, but they are not arrived at by syllo- 
 
 1 i.e. by analogical or metaphorical, arid therefore incorrect, 
 uses of the term " science." 
 
 ' Cp. the first sentence of Poxt. Awdyt. waa-a Si&aa-KaXia 
 Koi 7ra<ra /laBriins SmvoijriK^ ck irpovwapxfivaris ylvtrai yvaKreas, 
 
182 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VI. 
 
 gisms ; they must therefore be arrived at by mduc- 
 tion". 
 Definition Science then may be defined as a demonstrative 
 
 of science. ,, „.,. . -i.tjj -j 
 
 state of mmd, i.e. a state %n which, the mma exercises 
 its faculty of demonstration, ■with all such further 
 qualifications as we add to the definition in the 
 Analytics'^- For it is only when a person has a 
 certain belief, and is sure of the principles on which 
 his belief rests that he can be said to possess scientific 
 knowledge, as, if he is not more sure of Ms principles 
 or premisses than of his conclusion, his scientific 
 knowledge, if he possesses it, will be only accidental. 
 
 So much then for the definition of Science. 
 Chap. IV. That which is variable includes the objects both 
 (2) Art. pf production and of action. But production is dif- 
 ferent from action. This is a point on which we may 
 trust the popular or exoteric view. 
 
 The rationally practical state of mind then is 
 different from the rationally productive state. Ac- 
 cordingly neither of them is included in the other; 
 for action is not production, and production is not 
 action. But as architecture e.g. is an art, and as it 
 may be defined to be a rationally productive state of 
 mind, and there is no art which is not a rationally 
 productive state of mind, nor any such state of mind 
 which is not an art, it follows that art must be the 
 same thing as a productive state of mind under the 
 guidance of true reason. 
 
 Again, all art has to do with creation, i.e. it has to 
 
 1 The words iiraymyfi Spa should be retained in the text. 
 * Post, Anaiyt. i. ch. 2. 
 
CHAP. IV. J OF ARISTOTLE. 183 
 
 contrive and' consider how to create some one or 
 other of the things whose existence is contingent 
 rather than necessary, and whose original cause lies 
 in the producer, and not in the production itself. 
 For art does not apply to things which exist or come 
 into existence by necessity or by nature, as the 
 original cause of these things lies in themselves. 
 
 Production and action being different, it neces- 
 sarily follows that the end of art is production and 
 not action. There is a sense too in which chance and 
 art have the same sphere, as Agathon says 
 
 "Art fosters Fortune, Fortune fosters Art." 
 Art then, as has been said, is a certain productive Definition 
 state of mind under the guidance of true reason, and ° 
 its opposite, viz. the absence of art, is a productive 
 state of mind under the guidance of false reason, and 
 both are concerned with the variable or contingent. 
 
 We may ascertain the nature of prudence by Chap. v. 
 considering who are the people whom we call pru- f^^' 
 dent. 
 
 It seems to be characteristic of the prudent man 
 to be capable of deliberating well upon what is good 
 or expedient for himself, and that not in a particular 
 sense, e.g. upon the means of health or strength, but 
 generally upon the means of living well. This view 
 derives support from the fact that we go so far as to 
 speak of people who deliberate well in some parti- 
 cular line as "prudent," when their calculations are 
 successfully directed to some good end, if it is such as 
 does not fall within the scope of art. It may be said 
 
 ^ Retaining koI before Beapeiv. 
 
184 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VI. 
 
 generally then that a person who is successful in 
 deliberation is prudent. 
 
 But nobody deliberates upon such matters as 
 are incapable of alteration, or upon such as lie be- 
 yond his own power of action. 
 
 Now science implies demonstration, and demon- 
 stration is impossible in matters where the first prin- 
 ciples are variable and not necessary; for all the 
 results of such principles are variable*. On the other 
 hand such things as are necessary do not admit of 
 deliberation. It follows then that prudence cannot 
 be a science or an art — ^not a science, because the 
 sphere of action is variable and not an art, because 
 all art is productive and action is generally different 
 from production. It remains therefore that prudence 
 should be a true rational and practical state of mind 
 in the field of human good and evil ; for while the 
 end of production is different from the production 
 itself, it is not so with action, as right action is itself 
 an end. It is in this view that we consider Pericles 
 and people like him to be prudent, as having the 
 capacity of observing what is good for themselves and 
 for mankind; and this is our conception of such 
 persons as are successful in administering a house- 
 hold or a State. This too is the reason why we call 
 temperance by its name {a-m^poavvqy, as being pre- 
 servative of prudence. It is prudential opinion that 
 temperance preserves, for pleasure and pain do not 
 
 1 The words wapra yap eVSf^erai km oKKas ex""} '"**' '^^7 these 
 words, are parenthetical in the Oreek. 
 
 ^ a(i)<f>poirivti, as derived in Eudemus' view from <ras {(rd^eiv) 
 and ^povTivK. 
 
CHAP, v.] OF AKISTOTLE. 185 
 
 destroy or distort every opinion; they do not e.g. 
 destroy or distort the opinion that the angles of a 
 triangle are, or are not, equal to two right angles, 
 but only such opinions as relate to practice. For the 
 first principles of actions are the ends for which 
 actions are done ; but no sooner is a person corrupted 
 by pleasure or pain than he loses sight of the prin- 
 ciple, he forgets that this ought to be the object or 
 motive of aJl his choice and action, as vice is destruc- 
 tive of principle. We conclude then that prudence Definition 
 must be a true rational state of mind which is active dence. 
 in the field of human goods. 
 
 It must be added that, while art admits of excel- 
 lence, prudence does not, and that, while in art 
 voluntary error is preferable to involuntary, in the 
 case of prudence, as of the virtues generally, it is 
 worse. It is clear then that prudence is a virtue or 
 excellence and not an art. 
 
 As there are two parts of the soul in rational 
 beings, prudence wiU be the virtue of one of them, viz. 
 of the part which opines ; for the sphere of prudence 
 as of opinion is that which is variable. At the same 
 time it is something more than a rational state of 
 mind, as may be inferred from the fact that, while 
 such a state may be lost by forgetfulness, prudence 
 can not be so lost*. 
 
 Science is a mode of conceiving universal and Chap. vi. 
 necessary truths. But demonstrable truth or science 
 in general implies first principles, as science is impos- 
 
 ^ It is the moral element in prudence which gives it per- 
 manence, as compared with the merely intellectual virtues. See 
 p. 15, 11. 31 sqq. 
 
186 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VI. 
 
 sible -without reasoning. It follows that the first 
 principles of scientific truth cannot be themselves the 
 subjects of science or art or prudence ; for scientific 
 truth is matter of demonstration, and art and pru- 
 dence deal only with contingencies. Nor again are 
 
 (4) Wis- they the subjects of wisdom, as upon some matters 
 
 the wise man proceeds demonstratively i.e. proceeds 
 from premisses which are not themselves denmnstrable. 
 If then the means, by which we apprehend truth and 
 always apprehend it in the sphere of such things as 
 are necessary or contingent, are science, prudence, 
 wisdom, and intuitive reason', and if it can be no one 
 of the first three, i.e. prudence, science and wisdom, 
 which is the means or instrument of a/pprehending 
 first principles, the only possible conclusion is that 
 
 (5) intui- these principles are apprehended by intuitive reason. 
 t^erea- ^^Q apply the term "wisdom" (a-otjyia)" in art to 
 Chap. vh. ^^^ greatest masters of the several arts. Thus we 
 Wisdom, apply it to Phidias as a, sculptor, and to Polyclitus as 
 
 a statuary, meaning no more by it than artistic excel- 
 lence. But there are some people whom we conceive 
 to be wise generally, and not in a particular sense or 
 any other such sense, as Homer intends, whesn he 
 says in the Ma/rgites 
 
 " Him the Gods made not wise to delve or plough 
 Nor in aught else." ' 
 
 It is clear then that this general wisdom will be 
 the most consummate of the sciences. 
 
 1 Aristotle here omits "art." C^. p. 104, 1. 10. 
 
 2 The English word "wisdom" is hardly capable of this 
 extended signification. 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 187 
 
 If this is SO, it follows that the wise man ought 
 not only to know the inferences from the first prin- 
 ciples ; he should know also the truth about these 
 principles. Wisdom therefore will be the union of 
 intuitive reason and science ; it may be defined as the 
 capital science of the most honourable matters. For 
 it would be absurd to suppose that statesmanship or 
 prudence is the most excellent science, unless man is 
 the best thing in the universe. 
 
 If then some words have the same meaning al- 
 ways and others have different meanings, if e.g. the 
 words "wholesome" and "good" mean one thing for 
 man and another thing for fishes, but the words 
 "white" and "straight" have always the same meaning, 
 it will be universally admitted that the word "wise" 
 has always the same meaning, while the word "pru- 
 dent" is capable of diflferent meanings. For whatever 
 is keenly observant of its own interests would be 
 called "prudent," and would be entrusted with the 
 control of those interests ; hence we actually speak of 
 certain beasts as "prudent," if they are seen to possess 
 a faculty of forethought in regard to their own life. 
 
 It is clear too that wisdom and statesmanship 
 cannot be identical. For if we mean by "wisdom" 
 such wisdom only as has regard to our personal 
 interests, there will be many kinds of wisdom; there 
 will not even be one wisdom having regard to the 
 good of all animals, but different kinds of wisdom 
 having regard to the good of different animals ; in a 
 word there will no more be one wisdom than there is 
 one art of medicine for all existing things. Nor will 
 it make any difference, if it be said that Man is 
 
188 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VL 
 
 superior to all other animals; for there are many 
 other things of far diviner nature than Man, such as 
 to take the most obvious example — the constituent 
 elements of the universe. 
 
 From these facts it is clear that wisdom is tlie 
 union of science and intuitive reason iu the sphere of 
 things of the most honourable nature. Hence people 
 call Anaxagoras, Thales, and such men "vrise," but not 
 "prudent," seeing how ignorant they are of their own 
 interests, and speak of their knowledge as extra- 
 ordinary, surprising, diificult, and superhuman, but 
 still useless, inasmuch as they have no human good 
 in view. 
 CHAp.vin. Prudence, on the other hand, deals with such 
 Prudence, things as are of human interest and admit of delibe- 
 ration. For wise deliberation is, as we conceive, the 
 principal function of the prudent man ; but nobody 
 deliberates on such things as are invariable, or as 
 have no definite end or object, or whose end is not 
 some practicable good. And he who is absolutely 
 wise in deliberation is he who aims, by a reasonable 
 process, at that which is best for a man in practical 
 life. 
 
 Again, prudence does not deal iu universals only, 
 but equally demands the knowledge of particular 
 facts; for prudence is a practical virtue, and in 
 practice we have to do with particulars. Hence it is 
 that some people, without mentifie knowledge, are 
 more practical than other people with it, especially if 
 they possess experience ; for if a person knows that 
 light meats are digestible and wholesome, but does 
 not know what kinds of meat are light, he will not 
 
CHAP. Vni.] OF AKISTOTLE. 189 
 
 cure people so well as one who knows only that fowls 
 are wholesome ^- 
 
 But prudence is a practical virtue. We need 
 therefore the knowledge both of universals and of 
 particulars, but especially the latter. But there must 
 be an architectonic or swprems form of prudence; 
 viz. statesmanship. 
 
 Statesmanship and prudence are identical as states Pradence 
 of mind, but they are not essentially the same. mansMp. 
 
 In statesmanship, the architectonic prudence, as it 
 may be called, is legislation i.e. the framing of codes 
 of laws; but the prudence which deals with particular 
 cases is called by the general name of "statesman- 
 ship." This second form of prudence is practical and 
 deliberative ; for an act of parliament relates to prac- 
 tice, Uke the minor premiss in the syllogism'. Accord- 
 ingly it is people who exhibit this form of prudence 
 that alone are said to be statesmen, for they alone are 
 men of action in the same sense as artisans are. 
 
 But prudence, in the strict sense, is generally 
 taken to relate to one's own individual interests. It 
 is this which has the general name of "prudence," 
 the other forms of prudence being domestic economy, 
 legislation, and statesmanship, i.e. statesmamhip in 
 the narrower sense, which is subdivided into delibera- 
 tion and judicial procedure. 
 
 One species of knowledge then is the knowledge chap. ix. 
 
 ^ Omitting Kov(/)a Ka<. 
 
 2 Sir A. Grant seems right in taking to ea-xarov to denote the 
 minor premiss of a syllogism which, as it applies a general rule to 
 a particular case, may be said to be practical or to relate to 
 practice. 
 
190 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VI. 
 
 of one's own intjierests, although it has many Tarieties. 
 A person who understands and studies his own in- 
 terests is generally looked upon as prudent, while 
 politicians are looked upon as busybodies. Hence 
 Euripides' says 
 
 "I prudent? when I might have lived untroubled 
 A unit in a multitude of units ; 
 For busy, restless, and aspiring souls..." 
 
 For people generally seek their own good, and 
 think they are doing their duty in seeking it. It is 
 this opinion then which has originated the idea that 
 such people are prudent. Yet it is perhaps impossible 
 ' for a person to seek his own good successfully, with- 
 out domestic economy or statesmanship, i.e. unless he 
 takes part in the administration of a household or of 
 the State. Moreover the right manner of administer- 
 ing one's own affairs is an obscure subject and needs 
 consideration, as may be inferred from the fact that, 
 while the young become geometricians and mathema- 
 ticians, and wise in matters of that sort, they do not 
 seem to become prudent. The reason is that prudence 
 applies to particular cases, and these cases become 
 known by experience. But it is impossible for a 
 youth to be experienced, as experience is the ripe 
 fruit of years. It may indeed be asked why it is that 
 a boy can become a mathematician but not a philo- 
 sopher or a physicist; and the answer is probably 
 that mathematics is an abstract science, but the first 
 principles of philosophy and physics are derived from 
 experience, and thus the young do not believe, al- 
 
 1 In the Philoctetes. 
 
CHAP. IX.] OF ABISTOTLE. 191 
 
 though they may repeat, philosophical or physical 
 truths, but they easily comprehend the meaning of 
 mathematical truths. 
 
 Again, error in deliberation may affect either the 
 universal or the particular judgment ; it may be an 
 error e.g. to hold either that water of a high specific 
 gravity is bad, or that some particular water is of a 
 high specific gravity. But it is evident that prudence 
 is not science, as it deals with the minor premiss, i.e. 
 with the particular, as has been said ; for action is p. i89. 
 always particular. 
 
 Prudence is the antithesis of intuitive reason. Prudence 
 For while the intuitive reason deals with terms which tSti™ 
 are incapable of logical demonstration, prudence deals '^^*^™- 
 with particular facts which are not matters of scien- 
 tific knowledge but of perception, not indeed of the 
 perception of the special senses, but of a sense analo- 
 gous to that by which we perceive that the ultimate 
 or simplest figure in mathematics is a triangle. For 
 there must be a limit to scientific demonstration in 
 matters of the sense as well as in matters of the 
 intellect But this apprelwnsion of particular facts 
 is. rather perception than prudence; prudence is 
 sometMng specifically distinct. 
 
 There is a difference between investigation and Chap. x. 
 deliberation, for deliberation is a particular form of y^^^^™' 
 investigation. But it is necessary to ascertain what 
 is the nature of wise deliberation, whether it is a kind 
 of science or opinion or happy conjecture, or some- 
 thing generically distinct from all. 
 
 It is clearly then not science ; for if we are sure of 
 things, we do not investigate them. But wise delibe- 
 
192 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK. VI. 
 
 ration is a species of deliberation, and to deliberate is 
 to inyestigate and calculate. 
 
 Nor again is it happy conjecture; for happy 
 conjecture is an irrational and hasty process, but 
 deliberation takes a long time, and it is a common 
 saying that one should be quick in execution but 
 slow in deliberation. 
 
 Sagacity too is distinct from wise deliberation, 
 sagacity being a species of happy conjecture. 
 
 Nor again is wise deliberation opinion of any kind. 
 But as to deliberate ill is to commit an error, and to 
 deliberate well is to deliberate correctly, it is clear 
 that wise deliberation is a sort of correctness, but not 
 a correctness of science or of opinion; for science 
 does not admit of correctness any more than of error, 
 and correctness of opinion is truth, but not tvise de- 
 liberation, and whatever is a matter of opinion is 
 something not future but already decided. 
 
 At the same time wise deliberation necessarily 
 implies the exercise of reason. It remains therefore 
 that it must be correctness of thought, as thought or 
 reasoning does not amount to assertion ; for while 
 opinion is not investigation, but actual assertion of 
 some kind, deliberation, whether it be good or bad, is 
 a species of investigation and calculation. 
 
 But as wise deliberation is a certain correctness of 
 deliberation, it is necessary to investigate first the 
 nature and subject-matter of deliberation. 
 
 Now correctness is of various kinds. It is clear 
 then that there are some kinds of correct deliberation 
 which are not wise deliberation; for the incontinent 
 or wicked man may arrive by a process of reasoning 
 
CHAP. X.] OP ARISTOTLE. 193 
 
 at the goal which he sets before himself, and it may 
 be said therefore that he has deliberated correctly, 
 although what he has gained is a serious evil. But it 
 is considered a good thing to have deliberated well ; 
 for it is only such correctness of deliberation as 
 arrives at what is good that deserves to be called 
 wise deliberation. But it is possible to arrive at 
 what is good by a false syllogism, i.e. to arrive at 
 what ought to be done, but not to arrive at it by 
 right means. The middle term of the syllogism may 
 be false ' ; but again it does not amount to a case of 
 wise deliberation, when one arrives at the right con- 
 clusion, but does not arrive at it by the right means. 
 
 Again, one person may arrive at the right conclusion 
 by long deliberation, another person in a moment. 
 Wise deliberation then implies something more than 
 has yet been said. It is correctness in matters of 
 expediency, correctness of object, manner, and time. 
 
 Lastly, it may be said that a person has delibe- 
 rated well either absolutely or relatively to a certain 
 end. Wise deliberation in an absolute sense is such 
 as leads correctly to the absolute end. Wise delibe- 
 ration of a particular kind is such as leads correctly 
 to a particular end. 
 
 If then it is characteristic of the prudent to de- 
 
 1 The " falsity " of the *' middle term " or, to speak correctly, 
 of the " minor premiss " may be exemplified by supposing such a 
 syllogism as this : 
 
 Quinine is good for a fever; 
 This medicine is quinine; 
 Therefore this medicine is good for my fever, 
 where the medicine may not be quinine but may still be good 
 for the fever. 
 
 W. N. E. 13 
 
194 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VI. 
 
 liberate wisely, wise deliberation will be correctness 
 in matters of expediency with reference to a par- 
 ticular end, of which prudence is a true conception. 
 Chap. XI. Again, intelligence and its opposite, in virtue of 
 genoe* wMch we Speak of people as intelligent or unintelli- 
 gent, are not in general the same as science or 
 opinion. For if intelligence and opinion were the 
 same thing, everybody would be intelligent. Nor 
 is it any one of the particular sciences, such as 
 medicine which deals with matters of health, or 
 geometry with magnitudes; for intelligence is not 
 concerned with such things as are eternal and 
 immutable, nor with everything and anything that 
 occurs, but only with the natural subjects of human 
 doubt and deliberation. Hence intelligence has the 
 same sphere as prudence, although intelligence and 
 prudence are not identical. Prudence is imperative, 
 i.e. it issues commands; for its end or object is what 
 ought or ought not to be done. InteUigence on the 
 other hand is merely critical, i.e. if makes distinctions; 
 for there is no difference between intelligence and 
 wise intelligence, or between people of intelligence 
 and people of wise intelligence. 
 
 Intelligence is neither the possession nor the 
 acquisition of prudence ; but as a learner is said to 
 be intelligent, when he turns his scientific knowledge 
 to some use, so a prudent man is said to show his 
 intelligence in making use of his opinion to form a 
 judgment and a sound judgment upon matters of 
 prudence which he learns from somebody else; for a 
 wise judgment is the same thing as a sound judgment. 
 It is from this intelligence in learning that the word 
 
CHAP. XI. J OF ABISTOTLE. 195 
 
 "intelligence," in virtue of which people are called 
 intelligent, is derived, for we often speak of learning 
 as intelligence. 
 
 Judgment ' or consideration, as it is called, in Judgment 
 virtue of which we say that some people are con- sideration. 
 siderate or show consideration,, is a correct determi- 
 nation of what is equitable. It iff. a proof of this 
 definition that we regard the equitable man as es- 
 pecially disposed to exercise kind consideration or 
 forgiveness, and speak of kind consideration or 
 forgiveness in certain cases as being equitable. But 
 forgiveness is correct judgment or consideration in 
 determining what is equitable, a correct judgment 
 being a judgment of the truth. 
 
 AU the states of mind which have been enume- Chap. xii. 
 rated may be regarded as having the same tendency. 
 We apply the terms "judgment," "intelligence," 
 "prudence," and "intuitive reason" to the same 
 people. We say that they have come to possess 
 judgment and intuitive reason, and that they are 
 prudent and intelligent ; for all these faculties are 
 concerned with ultimate'' and particular truths, and 
 
 1 ■yvdiaj in this passage varies between "judgment" and 
 " consideration," as the first sentence shows ; and it cannot be 
 translated by one English word. 
 
 ^ There appears to be some confusion of thought in this pas- 
 sage. The " intuitive reason " (vovs) apprehends " first principles " 
 (apxai) which are " ultimates " {ea-xaTo) as being the primary or 
 fundamental concepts upon which all knowledge or action 
 depends ; "prudence" {4>p6vtjiiK) on the other hand apprehends 
 particular facts or duties which are also "ultimates" as being the 
 last steps in the process of reasoning from " first principles " to 
 knowledge or action ; but the "ultimates" are essentially different 
 
 13—2 
 
reason. 
 
 196 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK VIw 
 
 it is the capacity for judging of pradential matters 
 that entitles a person to be considered a person of 
 intelligence, and of sound or considerate judgment ; 
 for equity is the common characteristic of all that is 
 good in our relation to our neighbours. 
 
 Another proof that these faculties havet he same 
 tendency is that matters of action are always particular 
 and ultimate ; for it is the business of the prudent man 
 to understand them, and intelligence and judgment 
 are also concerned with matters of action, i.e. with 
 ultimate truths. 
 Intuitive The intuitivc reason, too, deals with ultimate 
 
 truths at both ends of the mental process ; for both 
 the first and last terms, i.e. both first principles and, 
 pmi/mdar facts, are intuitirely, and not logically, 
 apprehended, and while on the one hand in demon- 
 strative reasonings it apprehends the immutable first 
 terms, on the other in matters of conduct it apprehends 
 the ultimate or contingent term which forms the 
 minor premiss of the syllogism ; for it is truths of the 
 latter sort which are the first principles or original 
 sources of the idea of the end or object of human 
 life. As the universal law then is derived from par- 
 ticular facts, these facts must be apprehended by 
 perception, or in other words, by intuitive reason. 
 
 This is why it is thought that these faculties are 
 natural, and that while nobody is naturally wise, men 
 are naturally gifted with judgment, intelligence, and 
 intuitive reason. It is an argument in favour of this 
 
 in the two cases. It is clear from p. H2, l,'26 that Eudemus 
 does not use vovs here in its strict sense, but cp. p. 110, II. 
 10—13. 
 
CHAP. XII. J OF ARISTOTLE. 197 
 
 Tiew that we regard these faculties as accompanying 
 the different periods of life, and that intuitive reason 
 and judgment belong to a particular period ; which 
 implies that they are the gifts of Nature. 
 
 The intuitive reason then is at once beginning and 
 end. It is from the truths of intuitive reason that 
 demonstration starts, and with them that it is con- 
 cerned. It is right therefore to pay no less attention 
 to the undemonstrated assertions and opinions of 
 such persona as are experienced and advanced in 
 years or prudent than to their demonstrations; for 
 their experienced eye gives them the power of correct 
 vision ^ 
 
 Thus the nature of prudence and of vrisdbm, the 
 subjects with which they are severally concerned and 
 the fact that each is a virtue of a different part of the 
 soul, have now been explained. 
 
 But it is still possible to raise the question inCHAP.xin. 
 regard to them. What is their utility ? For wisdom ^^X^^ 
 pays no regard to any thing which makes a man^dpru- 
 happy, as it is wholly unproductive. Prudence on 
 the other hand does regard happiness; but what is 
 the good of it? For let it be granted that it is 
 prudence which deals with all that is just and noble 
 and good for a man, and that these are the things 
 which a good man naturally does; still the mere 
 
 ^ At the close of this difficult Chapter it may be obserred that -,_ 
 
 Eudemus (so far as he expresses himself clearly) regards the 
 "intuitive reason" (voOs) as having the power of apprehending 
 (1) the universal axiomatic truths which deductive reasoning 
 presupposes, (2) the particular facts In life which form the 
 materials of induction. 
 
198 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [BOOK VI. 
 
 knowledge of them no more augments our capacity of 
 action, if the virtues are, as they are, moral states, 
 than the knowledge of what is healthy or vigorous, 
 i.e. healthy or vigorous in the sense not of producing 
 health or vigour but of issuing from a healthy or 
 vigorous state; for mere knowledge of medicine or 
 gymnastics does not augment our capacity of action. 
 
 If again it be assumed that a man is to be 
 prudent, not in order that he may perform virtuous 
 actions, but in order that he may become a virtuous 
 man, it follows that prudence will not be of any use 
 to virtuous people, nor indeed to people who are 
 destitute of virtue; for it will make no difference 
 whether they possess prudence themselves, or follow 
 the advice of others who possess it. And, if so, we 
 may be content to treat prudence as we treat health ; 
 for although we desire to be healthy, we do not study 
 medicine. 
 
 Again, it would seem paradoxical that prudence, 
 although inferior to wisdom should enjoy a higher 
 authority, as it seems that it must; for it is the 
 productive faculty which is the ruling and command- 
 ing faculty everywhere. 
 
 These are the questions which must be discussed ; 
 at present we have merely raised difficulties in regard 
 to them. 
 
 Now the first remark to be made is that wisdom 
 and prudence will be necessarily desirable in them- 
 selves, inasmuch as each is a virtue of one of the two 
 parts of the soul, even if neither of them produces 
 anything. And the second is that they are produc- 
 tive. Thus wisdom is productive of happiness, not 
 
CHAP. XITL] of ARISTOTLE. 199 
 
 indeed in the sense in which the medical art produces 
 health, but in the sense in which health' itself produces 
 it; that is to say, as wisdom is a part of complete 
 Tirtue, the possession and exercise of it make a man 
 happy. 
 
 Again, a man discharges his proper function when 
 he acts in accordance with prudence and moral virtue ; 
 for while virtue ensures the correctness of the end 
 which is in view, prudence ensures the correctness of 
 the means to it. (The fourth part of the soul, viz. the 
 vegetative part, possesses no moral virtue like the 
 other parts; it has no power of performing or not 
 performing moral action.) " 
 
 If it be said that prudence does not augment our 
 capacity of doing what is noble and just, let us go a 
 little further back and look at it in this way. 
 
 We admit that there are some people who, al- 
 though they do what is just, are not yet themselves 
 just, e.g, if they do what the laws prescribe, but do it 
 either unwillingly or in ignorance, or for some secon- 
 dary motive, and not for love of the thing itself, 
 although indeed they do what is right, and do all that 
 
 ' The carelessness of language is conspicuous ; but the meaning 
 seems to be that when the state of the body is healthy, it k^jF 
 capable of a healthy activity or, as Mr Peters puts it, the e^isM 
 health produces the ivcpyeta of health. ^ ' 
 
 ^ This sentence, which I have bracketed as being parenthetical, 
 is an interruption of the argument. The soul (V^x"?') has been 
 divided into the rational (7-6 \6yov exov) and the irrational {t6 
 SKoyov) parts, and the rational part has been farther subdivided. 
 See p. 102, 11. 22 — 27. The virtues of these three parts have been 
 described, and there remains only the irrational or vegetative (to 
 OpeirTtKov) which is here excluded from the conception of virtue. 
 
200 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VI. 
 
 a virtuous man ought to do. It follows as a corollary 
 that a person may be good in all his actions, if he is 
 in a particular moral state, at the time of acting, i.e. 
 if he acts from moral purpose, and for the sake of the 
 actions themselves. 
 
 Now, while it is virtue which ensures the correct- 
 ness of the moral purpose, it is the function not of 
 virtue but of a different faculty to decide upon such 
 means as are natural in order to give effect to that 
 purpose. But we must dwell upon this point with 
 greater attention and exactness. 
 
 csevemcss. There is a certain faculty which is called clever- 
 ness. It is the faculty of hitting upon and acting 
 upon the means which conduce to a given object. If 
 then the object be noble, the faculty is laudable, but 
 if ignoble, it is unscrupulousness; hence we speak of 
 prudent people and unscrupulous' people alike as 
 clever. 
 
 Prudence is not cleverness, but neither can it 
 exist without the faculty of cleverness. But this eye 
 of the soul, i.e. prudence^ does not attain its perfect 
 
 p. 199. condition without virtue, as has been already stated, 
 and as is clear; for all such syllogisms as relate to 
 action have this major premiss: "Since the end or 
 supreme good is, so and so," whatever it may be ; for 
 the sake of argument it may be whatever we like. 
 But the supreme good is not apprehended except by 
 the good man, as vice distorts and deceives the mind 
 in regard to the principles of action. 
 
 It is evident therefore that it is impossible for a 
 man to be prudent unless he is good. 
 
 1 The sense of the passage seems to require rois iravoipyovs. 
 
CHAP. XIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 201 
 
 We must resume then the consideration of virtue. 
 For the case of virtue is much the same as that of 
 prudence in relation to cleverness. Prudence, al- 
 though not identical with cleverness, is akin to it;Virtne 
 and similarly natural virtue is akin to virtue proper, and 
 but is not identical with it For it seems that the ^^°^"- 
 various moral qualities are in some sense innate in 
 everybody. We are just, temperate, courageoiis, and 
 the like, from our very birth. Nevertheless, when 
 we speak of the good, properly so called, we mean 
 something different from this, and we expect to find 
 these qualities in another form; for the natural moral 
 states exist even in children and the lower animals, 
 but apart from reason they are clearly hurtful. How- 
 ever this at least seems evident, that, as a strong 
 body, if it moves without sight, stumbles heavily, 
 because it cannot see, so it is Avith natural virtue; 
 but let it acquire reason, and its action becomes 
 excellent. When that, is the case, the moral state 
 which before resembled virtue will be virtue properly 
 so called. 
 
 Hence, as in the. sphere of opinion there are two 
 special forms, viz. cleverness and common sense, so in 
 that of the moral character there are two, viz. natural 
 virtue and virtue proper, and of these the latter is 
 impossible without prudence. Accordingly some 
 people hold that all the virtues are forms of pru- 
 dence. Socrates who was one of them was partly 
 right and partly wrong in his researches; he was 
 wrong in thinking that all the virtues are forms of 
 prudence, but right in saying that they cannot exist 
 without prudence. 
 
-202 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VI. 
 
 It is an evidence of this truth that at the present 
 time everybody in defining virtue, after stating the 
 subjects to which it relates, adds that it is the moral 
 state which accords with right reason, and right 
 reason is prudential reason. It seems then to be 
 generally divined that such a moral state, viz. the 
 moral state which is in accordance with prudence, is 
 virtue, but it is necessary to make a slight change of 
 expression. It is not only the moral state which is 
 in accordance with jight reason but the moral state 
 which is under the guidance of right reason, i.e. 
 virtue ; but right reason in such matters is prudence. 
 
 While Socrates then considered the virtues to be 
 forms of reason, as being all sciences, we consider 
 them to be under the guidance of reason. 
 
 It is clear then from what has been said that 
 goodness in the proper sense is impossible without 
 prudence, and prudence without moral virtue. And 
 not only so, but this is the answer to an objection 
 which will perhaps be oirged in argument, viz. that 
 the virtues are found apart one from another; for the 
 same person is not perfectly disposed to all the virtues ; 
 consequently he will already have acquired one virtue 
 before he has acquired another. The answer is that, 
 although this is possible in the case of the natural 
 virtues, it is impossible in the case of such virtues as 
 entitle a person io be called good in an absolute sense ; 
 for if the one virtue of prudence exist, all the others 
 will co-exist with it. 
 
 It is clear that, even if prudence were not practi- 
 cal, it would be requisite as being a virtue of its part 
 of the soul; and because the moral purpose will not 
 
CHAP. XIIL] of ARISTOTLE. 203 
 
 be right without prudence or virtue, as the one, vis. 
 virtiie, leads to the attainment of the end, and the 
 other, viz. prudence, to the choice of the right means. 
 At the same time prudence is not the mistress of 
 wisdom or of the better part of the sovl, any more 
 than medicine is the mistress of health. For pru- 
 dence does not employ wisdom, but aims at producing 
 it; nor does it rule wisdom, but rules in wisdom's 
 interest. And to say that prudence rules wisdom is 
 much the same thing as to say that statesmanship 
 rules the Gods, because it regulates all the institu- 
 tions, and among them the religious observances, of 
 the State. 
 
BOOK VII. 
 
 Chap. I. BuT it is time to make a fresh start by laying it 
 dfM^acters: down that there are three species of moral character 
 Vice, In- which ought to be avoided, viz. vice, incontinence, 
 
 continence, i •■ i. 
 
 Brutality, and brutality. 
 
 The opposites of the two first are clear. We call 
 the one virtue, and the other continence. As the 
 opposite of brutality it will be most appropriate to 
 name the virtue which is above us, i.e. what may be 
 called heroic or divine virtue, as when Homer makes 
 Priam say of Hector, that he was exceeding good 
 
 "nor seemed 
 The son of mortal man, but of some god'." 
 
 If then it is true, as is often said, that apotheosis 
 is the reward of preeminent human virtue, it is clear 
 that the moral state which is opposite to the brutal, 
 will be some such state of preeminent virtue ; for as 
 in a brute, so too in a God, there is no such thing as 
 virtue or vice, but in the one something more honour- 
 able than virtue, and in the other something generi- 
 cally different from vice. But as it is rare to find a 
 
 1 Iliad XXIV. 258, 259. 
 
CH. I.] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. 205 
 
 "divine man V if one may use the fayourite phrase 
 of the Lacedaemonians when they admire a person 
 exceedingly, so too the brutal man is rare in the 
 world. Brutality is found chiefly among the barba- BrntaJity. 
 rians, although it is sometimes the result of disease 
 and mutilation; and if people are preeminently 
 vicious, we speak of them by the same opprobrious 
 name. 
 
 However, it will be right to say something about 
 this sort of disposition later on', and we have 
 already' discussed vice. We must therefore now 
 speak of incontinence, effeminacy, and luxury on the 
 one hand, and of continence and steadfastness on the 
 other; for it would be wrong to regard these moral 
 states as respectively identical with virtue and vice, 
 or again as generically different from them. 
 
 It will be proper here, as in other cases, to state 
 the obvious or accepted views upon the subject, and 
 after thoroughly discussing them, to establish the 
 truth of all, or if not of all, of most, and the most 
 important, of the popular opinions in regard to these 
 emotions; for if the difficulties are solved, and the 
 popular opinions hold their ground, the proof of 
 them will be sufficient for our purpose. 
 
 It is the popular opinion then that continence and Chap. n. 
 steadfastness are virtuous and laudable, incontinence maSran^ 
 and effeminacy wrong and censurable, and that th^^g^e^^gt. 
 
 ness and 
 
 1 a-eios is the Laconian Doric for Oelos. It appears from Plato, Effemi- 
 Meno, p. 99 d that the Lacedaemonians were fond of the word ^^' 
 "divine" as descriptiTO of personal excellence. 
 
 2 In ch. 5. 
 
 2 In Books m. iv. v. 
 
206 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 continent man is one who abides by his calculations, 
 and the incontinent one who departs from them. 
 Also that the incontinent man does what he knows to 
 be wrong under the influence of emotion, but the 
 continent man, knowing his desires to be wrong, is 
 prevented by his reason from following them. Also 
 that the temperate man is continent and steadfast ; 
 but while some people hold that the continent and 
 steadfast man is always temperate, others deny it, 
 and while some speak of the licentious man as in- 
 continent, and of the incontinent man as licentious 
 indiscriminately, others make a distinction between 
 them. Again, it is sometimes said that the prudent 
 man cannot be incontinent, and at other times that 
 some men who are prudent and clever are inconti- 
 nent. And lastly men are called incontinent in 
 respect, not of their sensual emotions only, but of 
 angry passion, honour, and gain. 
 Chap. HI. Such are the views generally entertained. 
 Knowledge But the qucstion may be raised, How is it that a 
 tinence!™ persou, if his Conceptions of duty are right, acts 
 incontinently? 
 
 Some people say that incontinence is impossible, 
 if one has knowledge. It seems to them, strange, as 
 Socrates thought, that, where knowledge exists in a 
 man, something else should master it and drag it 
 about like a slave. Socrates was wholly opposed to 
 this idea; he denied the existence of incontinence, 
 arguing that nobody with a conception of what was 
 best could act against it, and that, if he did so act, 
 his action must be due to ignorance. 
 
 Now the Socratic theory is evidently at variance 
 
CHAP. III.] OF ABISTOTLE. 207 
 
 with the facts of experience, and if ignorance be 
 the cause of the passion, i.e. of incontinence, it is 
 necessary to inquire what is the nature of the 
 ignorance. For there can be no doubt that a person 
 who acts incontinently, however he may act, does not 
 think his action to he right until he has got into a 
 condition of incontinence. But there are some people 
 who agree in part with this theory, and in part 
 dissent from it; they admit that there is nothing 
 which can master or overcome knowledge, but do not 
 admit that nobody acts against what has seemed best 
 to him. Accordingly they hold that the incontinent 
 man, when he is mastered by his pleasures, possesses 
 not knowledge, but only opinion. 
 
 But it may be answered that, if this is opinion 
 and not knowledge, if the resisting conception is not 
 a strong, but a feeble one, as in cases where we 
 hesitate how to act, a person is pardoned for not 
 remaining true to it in the teeth of strong desires; 
 whereas neither vice nor anything else that is cen- 
 surable admits of pardon at alL 
 
 Is it then when prudence resists the desires ^ thM 
 a person is censured for yielding to them? For there 
 is nothing so powerful as prudence. But that is an 
 absurdity, as it implies that the same person is at 
 once prudent and incontinent, and nobody will main- 
 tain that a prudent person can voluntarily do the 
 basest deeds. 
 
 Moreover, it has been already shown that thep. i88. 
 prudent person, whatever else he may be, is a man of 
 
 ^ There should be a mark of interrogation after aurmuiovv^s. 
 
208 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 action, for he is one who concerns himself with 
 ultimate or particular facts, and he possesses the 
 Continence other virtues as well as prudence. Again, if the 
 per Jc^' existence of strong and base desires is essential to 
 continence, the temperate man will not be continent, 
 nor the continent man temperate; for it is inconsis- 
 tent with the character of the temperate man to have 
 extravagant or wrong desires. Yet it must be so 
 with the continent man; for if his desires were good, 
 the moral state which prevents his following them 
 would be wrong, and therefore continence would not, 
 in all cases, be virtuous. If on the other hand they 
 were feeble and not wrong, it would be no great 
 credit, and if they were wrong and feeble, it would be 
 no great triumph to overcome them. 
 Continence Again, if contiuence inclines a man to adhere to 
 opinion, every opinion, whatever it may be, it is wrong, e.g. if 
 it inclines him to adhere to a false opinion; and if 
 incontinence inclines him to abandon every opinion, 
 whatever it may be, there will be what may be called 
 a virtuous incontinence. Thus Neoptolemus in the 
 Philoctetes ' of Sophocles deserves praise for refusing 
 to adhere to the line of action, which Odysseus had 
 persuaded him to adopt, because of the pain which 
 he felt at telling a lie. 
 
 Again, if continence be defined as meaning that 
 a person will adhere to his opinions at all costs, the 
 sophistical argument", fallacious as it is, is perplexing. 
 
 1 The argument of Neoptolemus and Philoctetes, which illus- 
 trates this passage, occurs in the Philoctetes w. 895 sqq. 
 
 2 It appears that "the sophistical argument" is the argument 
 relating to folly and incontinence given below. 
 
CHAP. III.] OF ARISTOTLE. 209 
 
 The sophists, wishing to prove a paradox, and to be 
 thought clever if they are successful in proving it, are 
 fond of constructing a syllogism which perplexes their 
 interlocutor. For he is caught in a logical trap, as he 
 does not wish to acquiesce in a conclusion which 
 is distasteful to him, and yet it is imijossible for him 
 to escape as he cannot refute the argument. One 
 such argument is used to prove that folly and incon- 
 tinence together make virtue. It is urged that, if a 
 person is foolish and incontinent, his incontinence 
 leads him to do the opposite of that which he con- 
 ceives to be good; but he conceives that what is 
 really good is evil, and that it is his duty not to do 
 it ; therefore he will do what is good and not what is 
 evil. 
 
 Again, if continence be so defined, it would seem 
 that he who does and pursues what is pleasant from 
 conviction and deliberate moral purpose is better 
 than he who does so not from calculation but from 
 incontinence ; for it is easier to cure the former, as he 
 may be led to change his opinion. But the inconti- 
 nent man is open to the proverbial saying "When 
 water chokes you, what must you take to wash it 
 down?" For if he had not already been convinced 
 that his actions are wrong, he might have been 
 converted and induced to give them up ; but in point 
 of fact, although he is convinced of what is right, 
 nevertheless he does something else. 
 
 Again, if there is incontinence and continence in 
 aU things, who is the continent man in an absolute 
 sense ? For nobody exhibits all the forms of inconti- 
 nence; yet there are people of whom we speak as 
 
 W. N. E. 14 
 
210 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK. VII. 
 
 incontinent in an absolute sense, i.e. without qualifi- 
 cation. 
 Chap. IV. Such then more or less are diflaculties -which arise 
 in regard to continence. Some of them we must ex- 
 plain away, others we must leave; for it is impossible 
 to solve a difficulty except by discovering a truth. 
 
 It is necessary, then, to inquire (1) whether 
 incontinent people can be said to act with knowledge 
 or not, and if so, what is the nature of their knowledge ; 
 
 (2) what is to be regarded as the sphere of continence 
 or incontinence, i.e. whether it be pleasure or pain 
 universally, or certain definite pleasures and pains; 
 
 (3) whether the continent and the steadfast person 
 are the same, or different, and to deal similarly with 
 all such other questions as are germane to the present 
 inquiry. 
 
 Nature of But the first Step in the inquiry is to ask whether 
 andinoon! the Continent and the incontinent person are distin- 
 trnence. guished by the sphere or by the manner of their 
 operation; in other words, whether the incontinent 
 person is so called merely as being incontinent in 
 certain matters, or rather as being incontinent in a 
 certain way, or on both grounds. And the next step 
 is to ask whether the sphere of continence and in- 
 continence is universal or not. For one who is 
 incontinent in an absolute sense exhibits his inconti- 
 nence not in any and every sphere of action but in 
 the same sphere as one who is licentious. Nor does 
 incontinence consist in a mere indefinite disposition to 
 certain action — ^in which case incontinence would be 
 the same thing as licentiousness— but in a disposi- 
 tion of a particular kind. 
 
CHAP. IV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 211 
 
 For the licentious person is led away of his own incontT- 
 deliberate moral purpose, under the idea that he Licentious- 
 ought always to pursue the pleasure of the moment, "^^^' 
 but the incontinent person pursues it without any 
 such idea. 
 
 As to the theory then that it is true opinion, and Chap. v. 
 not knowledge, against which people offend in their ^^^^^^Jlf' 
 incontinence, it makes no difference to the argument ; nence is an 
 for some people who have only opinions do not feel against 
 doubt, but suppose that they have accurate know- ^nd^ ^ ^^ 
 
 ledge. opinion. 
 
 If it be said then that people who have opinions 
 are more likely, owing to the weakness of their con- 
 viction, to act against their conception of what is 
 right than people who have knowledge, it may be 
 answered that there is no such difference between 
 knowledge and opinion; for some people are as 
 strongly convinced of their opinions as others of their 
 knowledge, as the example of Heraclitus' shows. 
 
 But we use the word "knowledge" in two distinct Two senses 
 senses; we speak of a person as "knowing" if he ledge." 
 possesses knowledge but does not apply it, and also 
 if he applies his knowledge. There will be a differ- 
 ence then between doing wrong, when one possesses 
 knowledge, but does not reflect upon it, and so doing 
 when one not only possesses the knowledge but 
 reflects upon it. It is in the latter case that wrong 
 
 1 The passages quoted by Sir A. Grant from Diogenes Laertius 
 seem to show that Heraclitus was criticized in antiquity for his 
 dogmatism upon subjects in which scientific knowledge was im- 
 possible. 
 
 14—2 
 
212 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 action appears strange, but not if it is taken without 
 reflexion. 
 
 Again, as the premisses of the syllogism are of 
 two modes, the major premiss being universal and 
 the minor particular, there is nothing to prevent a 
 person, altliough he ' has both premisses, from acting 
 against his knowledge, if in spite of having both he 
 applies the universal and not the particular premiss ; 
 for it is particulars which are matters of action. 
 Nay, there is a distinction to be made in the universal 
 or major premiss' itself; one part of it has reference 
 to the person, the other part to the thing ; thus, the 
 major premiss may he, "Dry things are good for 
 every man,^' and the minor premiss "So and so is a 
 man," or "Such a thing is dry," but the fact that the 
 particular thing is of a particular kind may either be 
 not known or may have no effect tipon the mind. 
 
 These different modes of the premisses of the 
 syllogism constitute an immense difference in the 
 knowledge so required. There is nothing paradoxical 
 then in saying that the incontinent person possesses 
 knowledge of one kind ; but it would be surprising if 
 he possessed knowledge of another. Again, it is 
 possible for men to possess knowledge in a different 
 manner from those which have just been described. 
 For in a case where a person possesses knowledge 
 
 1 Aristotle is fond of expressing moral or mental truths 
 syllogistically; and as knowledge in his view takes the form of 
 the syllogism, his point is here that in the syllogism it is possible 
 to go wrong either by neglecting one of the two premisses or by 
 neglecting one of the two factors of which the major premiss 
 consists. 
 
CHAP. V.J OF ARISTOTLE. 213 
 
 but does not apply it, we see that "possession" has a 
 different meaning ; in fact there is a sense in which 
 he possesses knowledge and another sense in which 
 he does not possess it, as e.g. in sleep or madness or 
 intoxication. But this is the very condition of people 
 who are under the influence of passion; for fits of 
 anger and the desires of sensual pleasures and some 
 such things do unmistakeably produce a change in 
 the condition of the body, and in some cases actually 
 cause madness. 
 
 It is clear then that we must regard incontinent 
 Xjeople as being in much the same condition as people 
 Avho are asleep or mad or intoxicated. Nor is it any 
 proof of knowledge, i.e. of knowledge in the full 
 sense, that they repeat such phrases as would seem to 
 imply knowledge; for people who are mad or intoxi- 
 cated repeat demonstrations and verses of Empedocles, 
 and beginners in learning string phrases together, 
 before they know their meaning. Assimilation is 
 essential to full knowledge, and this is necessarily a 
 Avork of time. We must suppose then that people in 
 a state of incontinence repeat phrases in the same 
 way as actors on the stage. 
 
 Again, we may consider the reason of inconti- 
 jience by examining its nature*, as follows: There is 
 in the syllogism firstly an universal opinion, and 
 secondly an opinion relating to particulars which 
 fall under the dominion of sense. Now when a third 
 opinion is formed from these two, it is necessary that 
 
 1 Aristotle seems to mean by <i>va-iKas an investigation into 
 the special character or principle of aKpareia. 
 
214 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 the mind should on the one hand assent to the 
 conclusion, and on the other should in practice give 
 immediate effect to it. To take an example, if it is 
 proper to taste everything that is sweet, — which is a 
 wniversal opinion — and such or such a thing is sweet, 
 — which is a particula/r opinion — it is necessary that 
 one, who has the power and is not prevented, should 
 at once act upon the conclusion, i.e. should taste if. 
 When therefore there is in the mind one universal 
 opinion which forbids tasting, and another which says 
 that everything sweet is pleasant, and ought to be 
 tasted, when there is the particular opinion that a 
 certain thing is sweet, and this particular opinion is 
 effective, and when there is the actual presence of 
 desire, then, while the first universal opinion enjoins 
 avoidance of the thing, desire impels to it ; for desire 
 has the faculty of setting every one of our members 
 in motion. The result is that a person may be said 
 in some sense to be led into incontinence by reason 
 or opinion, but it is an opinion which is not intrinsi- 
 cally, but only accidentally, opposed to right reason; 
 for it is really the desire and not the opinion which 
 is opposed to right reason. Accordingly brutes are 
 not said to be incontinent, because they have no 
 universal conceptions, but only an image or recoUec* 
 tion of particulars. 
 
 If it be asked how the incontinent person is 
 delivered from ignorance and restored to knowledge, 
 it may be answered, that the process is the same as 
 in the case of one who is intoxicated or asleep ; it is 
 not peculiar to the condition of incontinence, and the 
 proper authorities upon it are the physiologists. But 
 
CHAP. V.J OF ARISTOTLE. 215 
 
 as the minor premiss is an opinion of something that 
 is an object of sensation, and as it determines actions, 
 it follows that one who is in a condition of inconti- 
 nence either does not possess an opinion, or possesses 
 it in a sense in which possession, as we said, does not p- 213. 
 mean knowledge but merely the repetition of phrases, 
 as an intoxicated man may repeat the verses of 
 Empedocles'. And as the minor term or premiss is 
 not universal, and has apparently not the same scien- 
 tific character as the universal, it seems too that the 
 theory of Socrates^ is really true ; for it is not when 
 knowledge properly so regarded is present to the 
 mind that the condition of incontinence occurs, nor is 
 it this knowledge which is twisted about by inconti- 
 nence, but such knowledge only as is sensational 
 or depends on sensation. 
 
 So much then for the question whether a person. Chap. vi. 
 when he acts incontinently, has knowledge or not, 
 and in what sense it is possible for him to have know- 
 ledge. 
 
 The next thing is to state whether a person may inconti- 
 be incontinent in an absolute sense, or all people are sointe and 
 incontinent in some particular sense, and, if there is a p^*""^"^'- 
 person who is incontinent in the absolute sense, what 
 is the sphere of his incontinence. 
 
 It is evident that pleasures and pains are the 
 
 1 There should be a full stop after'E/tTreSoKXeour in 1. 11 and 
 no stop after opoi> in 1. 13. 
 
 2 The Socratic theory is that vice excludes knowledge; Aris- 
 totle, while asserting that it is consistent with knowledge of some 
 kind, admits that it excludes knowledge in the full or proper 
 sense of the word. 
 
216 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 sphere in which the continent and steadfast, or the 
 incontinent and effeminate, display their characters- 
 But some things which produce pleasure are neces- 
 sary, others are desirable in themselves but admit of 
 excess. By the former I mean physical processes, e.g. 
 the processes of nutrition and sexual love, and such 
 other physical processes as in our view afforded scope 
 for licentiousness and temperance. By the latter, 
 which although not necessary, are desirable in them- 
 selves, I mean e.g. victory, honour, wealth, and other 
 things of the same class which are good and pleasant. 
 
 Now, if it is in reference to these last things that 
 people transgress and exceed the limits of right 
 reason, we do not call them " incontinent " in an 
 absolute or unqualified sense, but we qualify the 
 word by saying that they are incontinent in respect 
 of money or gain or honour or angry passion. We 
 do not speak of them as incontinent in an absolute 
 sense, because they are different and are called 
 incontinent only by analogy as the victor in the 
 Olympian games was called Man ' ; for in his case the 
 general definition of "mom" differed slightly from the 
 special definition but still was distinct. It is signifi- 
 cant of this difference that, while incontinence is 
 censured not as a mistake only, but as a vice, whether 
 a vice of an absolute or of some particular kind, 
 nobody is censured for being incontinent in respect 
 of money, gain, honour, and the like. 
 
 If we look at bodily enjoyments, in regard to 
 
 1 I cannot make sense of the passage, unless it be supposed 
 that 'Kvdpemoi, like Mann in English, is here a proper name. 
 If so, it should be written 'Avepajros rather than av6pamos. 
 
CHAP. VI.] OF ARISTOTLE. 217 
 
 which we commonly speak of a man as temperate or 
 licentious, "we see that one who pursues excessive 
 pleasures, and avoids excessive pains, such as hunger, 
 thirst, heat, cold, and the various sensations of the 
 touch and taste, and who does so, not of deliberate 
 purpose, but contrary to his purpose and intelligence, 
 is called incontinent not with the qualification that 
 he is incontinent in certain respects, as e.g. in respect 
 of anger, but incontinent simply in an absolute sense. 
 We may infer this to be the case, as people are 
 similarly called effeminate in respect of pleasures and 
 pains, but not in respect of wealth, gain, honour, and 
 the like. This is the reason too why we class the 
 incontinent man and the licentious man together, and 
 again the continent man and the temperate man 
 together, as being concerned more or less with the 
 same pleasures and pains, while we do not place any 
 of the others in the same class with them. They are 
 concerned with the same things, but their attitude 
 is different ; the licentioiis act with deliberate 
 purpose, but the incontinent do not. Hence we 
 should call a person more licentious, if without desire 
 or without any strong desire he pursues excessive 
 pleasures and avoids moderate pains, than if he does 
 so from a violent' desire ; for what (it may bp asked) 
 would such a person do if there should come upon 
 him a fierce desire, and it were intensely painful to 
 him to omit the gratification of his natural appetites? 
 But there are some desires and pleasures which 
 are noble and virtuous of their kind ; for according 
 to our previous definition some pleasant things are 
 naturally desirable, such as wealth, gain, victory, and 
 
218 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VH, 
 
 honour, others the opposite of these, and others 
 intermediate. In regard to all such things as are 
 desirable or intermediate, it is not for feeling emotion, 
 desire and affection for them, that people are cen- 
 sured, but for running into some kind of excess. 
 Accordingly people are always censured, if they are 
 unreasonably mastered by something that is naturally 
 noble and good, or unreasonably pursue it, as e.g. if 
 they are inordinately devoted to honour, or to chil- 
 dren and parents ; for children and parents are goods 
 as well as honour, and devotion to them is laudable. 
 But even here there is a possibility of excess, as e.g. 
 if one should vie with the gods themselves like Mobe^ 
 or like Satyrus who was nicknamed "the filial" from 
 his affection for his father, as it made him look 
 exceedingly foolish. 
 
 It is true that these cases do not admit of vice, 
 and the reason has been already assigned, viz. that 
 the objects are all desirable in themselves, although 
 excess in them is wrong, and ought to be avoided ; 
 nor again do they admit of incontinence, as incon- 
 tinence is something that ought not only to be 
 avoided but to be censured. 
 
 Still the similarity of the emotional condition 
 leads us to use the term "incontinence" in these 
 cases, although we do not use it without qualification, 
 as when we speak of a person as "a bad doctor " or 
 "a bad actor," although we should not call him "bad" 
 in an absolute sense. As in that instance then we do 
 
 ^ The story of Niobe is well known; but Satyrus is only a 
 name. 
 
CHAP. VI.] OF ARISTOTLE. 219 
 
 not use the term "bad" without qualification,, because 
 bad doctoring or bad acting is not badness or vice, 
 but only analogous to a vice, so here it is evident that 
 we must regard nothing as being continence or in- 
 continence in a strict sense, but what has the same 
 sphere as temperance or licentiousness, and must not 
 apply the terms "continence" and "incontinence" to 
 anger, except by analogy. Accordingly we add a 
 qualification and say, that a person is incontinent in 
 respect of angry passion in the same sense as in 
 respect of honour or gain. 
 
 There are certain things which are naturally Bad moral 
 
 states 
 
 pleasant, some of them being pleasant in an absolute 
 sense and others pleasant to particular classes of 
 animals or men, while there are other things which 
 are not naturally pleasant but owe their pleasantness 
 to physical defects or habits or to depravity of nature ; 
 and it is possible to discover moral states correspond- 
 ing to each of these kinds of pleasures. 
 
 What I mean is that there are brutal states as BrutaUty. 
 e.g. in the female creature who is said to rip up 
 pregnant women and devour their children, or in 
 some savage tribes near the Black Sea which are said 
 to delight in such practices as eating raw meat or 
 human flesh, or in cannibals who lend their children 
 to one another to feast upon, or as the story tells of 
 Phalaris'. And if these are brutal states, there are 
 others which are produced in some people by disease 
 and madness, as when a person sacrificed and ate his 
 
 1 The "story" is the traditional belief that Phalaris ate his 
 son in infancy. Cp. Bentley's Dissertation upon the Epistles of 
 Pludaris xvl 
 
220 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 mother, or another person ate the liver of his fellow- 
 slave. Other such states again are the results of a 
 morbid disposition or of habit, as e.g. the practice of 
 plucking out one's hair, or biting one's nails, or eating 
 cinders and earth, or of committing unnatural vice; 
 for these hsibits are sometimes natural, when a person's 
 nature is vicious, and sometimes acquired, as e.g. by 
 those who are the victims of outrage from childhood. 
 
 Now whenever nature is the cause of these habits, 
 nobody would call people who give way to them 
 incontinent, any more than we should call women 
 incontinent for being not males, but females ; and the 
 same is the case with people in whom habit has 
 produced a morbid condition. 
 
 These various habits, like brutality itself, lie 
 beyond the pale of vice; but if a person in whom 
 they exist becomes their master or slave, his conduct 
 ought to be called continence or incontinence, not in 
 an absolute, but in a metaphorical sense; just as if a 
 person is mastered by his angry passions, he ought to 
 be called incontinent in respect of anger, but not 
 incontinent in an absolute sense. For all excess 
 whether of folly, cowardice, incontinence, or savagery 
 is either brutal or morbid. For if it is a person's 
 nature to be frightened at everything, even at the 
 noise of a mouse, he is such a coward as to be more 
 like a brute beast than a human being; but it was 
 disease which made the man' afraid of the weasel. 
 Again, foolish people who are naturally irrational, 
 and live a life of mere sensation, as e.g. some races of 
 remote barbarians, are like brutes; but foolish people 
 1 In allusion to some story now forgotten. 
 
CHAP. VI.J OF ARISTOTLE. 221 
 
 "whose folly arises from disease e.g. from epilepsy, or 
 from insanity, ai"e in a morbid state. 
 
 A person may at times possess one of these habits 
 "without being mastered by it, as e.g. if Phalaris had 
 restrained his desire of eating a child or his unnatu- 
 ral passions ; or again he may not only possess it but 
 be mastered by it. 
 
 As then human vice is sometimes called vice in an 
 absolute sense, and at other times is qualified by the 
 epithet "brutal" or "morbid," but is not called vice 
 in an absolute sense, so it is clear that incontinence 
 may be either brutal or morbid, but it is only inconti- 
 nence in an absolute sense when it is coextensive with 
 human licentiousness. 
 
 It is evident therefore that continence and inconti- Chap. vn. 
 nence have to do simply with the same matters as 
 temperance and licentiousness, and that in other 
 matters there is a different kind of incontinence which 
 is called incontinence in a metaphorical, and not in 
 an absolute, sense. 
 
 It must be observed too that the incontinence of inconti- 
 angry passion is not so disgraceful as the incontinence passion and 
 of the desires. For it is as if the passion heard reason ™eMe*of 
 more or less, but misheard it, like hasty servants, who desUe. 
 run out before they have heard all that is said to 
 thera, and so mistake their orders, or like dogs who 
 bark at a person, if only he makes a noise, without 
 waiting to see if he is a friend. In the same way the 
 temper from its natural heat and impetuosity hears 
 something, but does not hear the voice of command, 
 when it rushes to revenge. For when the reason or 
 fancy indicates that an insult or slight has been 
 
222 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII.- 
 
 inflicted, the passion jumps, as it were, to the con- 
 clusion that it must do battle with the person who 
 inflicted it, and therefore gets into a fury at once. 
 Desire, on the other hand, rushes to the enjoyment of 
 a thing, if only reason or sensation says that it is 
 pleasant. Thus passion follows reason in a sense, but 
 desire does not. Desire is therefore the more dis- 
 graceful; for the man of incontinent temper is in a 
 sense the servant of reason, but the other is the 
 servant of desire and not of reason. 
 
 Again, there is more excuse for following natural 
 impulses, as indeed there is for following all such 
 desires as are common to all the world, and the more 
 common they are, the more excusable are they also.^^ 
 But passion and rage are more natural than the 
 desires of excessive and superfluous pleasures, as 
 appears in the case of the man who defended himself 
 for striking his father by saying "Yes, for he struck 
 his own father before and his own father struck his 
 father," and pointing to his child " He too will strike 
 me when he becomes a man ; it is in our blood." So 
 too the man, who was being dragged out of the house 
 by his son, told him to stop at the door, as he had 
 himself dragged his father so far but not beyond it. 
 
 Again, the greater the cunning, the greater is the 
 injustice of an action. Now a passionate man i& not 
 cunning nor is passion cunning; it is open. Desire, 
 on the other hand, is cunning; thus Aphrodite is 
 called the 
 
 "Goddess of the Cyprian isle, 
 Artisan of many a wileV 
 
 1 Tlie authorsliip of the phrase is unknown. 
 
GHAP. VII. J OF ARISTOTLE. 223 
 
 and Homer says of her embroidered girdle that on it 
 was 
 
 "Guile that doth cozen wisest men of wit^." 
 Hence as this incontinence is more unjust and more 
 disgraceful than incontinence of temper, it may be 
 called incontinence in an absolute sense, and is in fact 
 a species of "vice. 
 
 Again, nobody feels pain when he commits a 
 wanton "^ outrage. But anybody who acts in anger 
 feels pain in his action, whereas wantonness is asso- 
 ciated with pleasure. If then such things as are the 
 most legitimate subjects of anger are properly re- 
 garded as the most unjust, it follows that the inconti- 
 nence which is due to desire is more unjust than the 
 incontinence which is due to angry passion; for there 
 is nothing of wantonness in angry passion. 
 
 It is clear then that incontinence in respect of 
 the desires is more disgraceful than incontinence in 
 respect of angry passion, and that continence and 
 incontinence are properly concerned with bodily 
 desires and pleasures. But we have still to ascertain 
 the differences in these desires and pleasures, for, as Differences 
 has been said at the outset, some are human andSid^piea^ 
 natural alike in kind and in degree, others are brutal, p°2i9. 
 others again are the results of physical injuries and 
 diseases. It is with the first of these alone that 
 temperance and licentiousness are concerned. That 
 is the reason why we do not speak of brutes as 
 
 1 Iliad XIV. 214—217. 
 
 ^ S^pit may here be represented in English by " wanton 
 outrage" or "wantonness,"' as it is clearly such outrageous con- 
 duct as is the natural issue of desire. 
 
224 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK. VII,. 
 
 temperate or licentious except metaphorically, and 
 where one kind of animal is absolutely distinguished 
 from another by peculiar wantonness, destructiveness, 
 voracity or the like; for animals do not possess moral 
 purpose or ratiocinative power, they merely get into 
 an unnatural state, like madmen. 
 Bratauty Brutality is not so bad a thing as vice, but it is 
 
 and Vice o ? 
 
 more formidable, for it is not the corruption of the 
 highest good in brutes as it is in men, but its non- 
 existence. The comparison then of brutality with 
 vice is like the comparison of inanimates with ani- 
 mates in respect of wickedness ; for the depravity of 
 that which has no originative principle is always less 
 mischievous, and brutes lack reason, which is an 
 originative principle. (It is much the same then as a 
 comparison of injustice with an unjust man ; there is a 
 sense in which each of them is worse than the other*.) 
 For a bad man will do ten thousand times as much 
 evil as a brute. 
 
 Chap.viii. As to the pleasures and pains, desires and dislikes, 
 of touch and taste, with which licentiousness and 
 
 p. 216. temperance, as has been already defined, are con- 
 cerned, it is possible to be in such a moral state that 
 one is the slave of those of which most people are 
 masters, or again to be in such a moral state that one 
 is master of those of which most people are slaves. 
 According as a person's state is one or the other in 
 respect of pleasures he is continent or incontinent; 
 
 1 There should he a full stop at kAkiov, and tlie sentence 
 irapairXrjaiov ovv-.-kclkiov should be regarded as virtually paren- 
 thetical, if indeed it has a right to a place in the text at all. 
 
CHAP. VIII.] OF AEISTOTLE. 225 
 
 according as it is one or the other in respect of pains, 
 he is courageous or effeminate. The moral state of 
 the large majority of mankind lies between the two, 
 even if they incline rather to the worse. 
 
 Inasmuch as some pleasures are necessary, and 
 others are not necessary, or are necessary only up to 
 a certain point, and as neither the excesses nor the 
 deficiencies of these pleasures are necessary, and it is 
 the same with desires and pains, it follows that, if a 
 person pursues pleasures of an excessive character, 
 or pursues any pleasures in an excessive degree, or 
 pursues them from moral purpose for their own sake, 
 and not for the sake of anything that results irom 
 them, he is licentious ; for he is necessarily incapable Licentioas- 
 of repentance and is therefore incurable, as to be "''^^' 
 incapable of repentance is to be incurable. The 
 opposite state is the state of deficiency, the mean 
 state is temperance. Similarly a person who avoids 
 bodily pains, not from inability to endure them but 
 from moral purpose, is also licentious. 
 
 Where this moral purpose does not exist, a person 
 may be moved either by pleasure or by avoidance 
 of the pain resulting from desire. There is therefore 
 a difference between these persons. But everybody 
 will agree that a person is worse, if he does some- 
 thing disgraceful without desire, or without any 
 strong desire, than if he does it at a time when his 
 desire is violent, and worse, if he deals a blow in cold 
 blood than when he is angry; for what, it may be 
 said, would such a person do if he were in a passion? ijcentions- 
 Hence the licentious person is worse than the incon- inconti- 
 
 , . . nence. 
 
 tinent. 
 
 w. N. E. 15 
 
nacy. 
 
 226 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 Of the characters which have been described the 
 one, viz. incontinence, is rather a kind of eflFeminacy, 
 Continence the Other is liccntiousness. The opposite of the 
 fastness, incontinent character is the continent, and of the 
 effeminate the steadfast; for steadfastness consists 
 in holding out against pain, and continence in over- 
 coming pleasure, and it is one thing to hold out, and 
 another to overcome, as it is one thing to escape 
 being beaten and another to win a victory. Hence 
 continence is preferable to steadfastness. 
 
 If a person gives in where people generally resist 
 and are capable of resisting, he deserves to be called 
 Effemi- effeminate and luxurious; for luxury is a form of 
 effeminacy. Such a person will let his cloak trail in 
 the mud to avoid the trouble of lifting it up, or will 
 give himself the airs of, an invalid without considering 
 himself miserable, although he resembles one who is 
 miserable. 
 
 It is much the same with continence and inconti- 
 nence. It is no wonder, if a person is mastered by 
 strong and overwhelming pleasures or pains ; nay, it 
 is pardonable, if he struggles agaibst them like Phi- 
 loctetes when bitten by the snake in the play of 
 Theodectes, or like Cercyon' in the Alope of Carcinus, 
 or like people who in trying to suppress their laughter 
 burst out in a loud guffaw, as happened to Xeno- 
 phantus^ It is only unpardonable where a person is 
 
 ' It is possible that the poet Carcinus represented in his 
 Alope a struggle between the cruel disposition and the moral 
 sense of Cercyon. 
 
 ° The allusion is unknown. 
 
CHAP. VIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 227 
 
 mastered by things against which most people succeed 
 iu holding oat, and is impotent to struggle against 
 them, unless his impotence be due to hereditary 
 constitution or to disease, as effeminacy is hereditary 
 in the kings of Scythia, or as a woman is naturally 
 weaker than a man. 
 
 If a person is fond of amusing himself, he is 
 regarded as licentious, but he is really effeminate; 
 for amusement, being a relaxation, is a recreation, 
 and a person who is fond of amusing himself is one 
 who carries his recreation to excess. 
 
 Incontinence assumes sometimes the form of im-?'ormsof 
 petuosity, and at other times that of weakness. Some nence. 
 men deliberate, but their emotion prevents them from 
 abiding by the result of their deliberation; others 
 again do not deliberate, and are therefore carried 
 away by their emotion. For as people cannot be 
 tickled, if they are themselves the beginners in a 
 tickling match ^, so some people, if they anticipate or 
 foresee what is coming, and have roused themselves 
 and their reason to resist it before it comes, are not 
 overcome by their emotion, whether it be pleasant or 
 painful. 
 
 It is people of a quick and atrabilious temper 
 whose incontinence is particularly apt to take the 
 form of impetuosity ; for the rapidity or the violence 
 of their feeling prevents them from waiting for the 
 guidance of reason, as they are easily led away by 
 their imagination. 
 
 1 The idea seems to be that, if a person anticipates tickling, 
 he is in a sense armed against it; it depends for its effect upon 
 sm-prise. 
 
 15—2 
 
228 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 Chap. DC. The Ucentious person, as was said, is not disposed 
 P-^^^- to repentance, as he abides by his purpose, but the 
 incontinent person is always so disposed. The diffi- 
 culty then which we raised does not exist. The 
 former is incurable, the latter can be cured; for if 
 rice may be compared to such a disease as dropsy or 
 consumption, incontinence may be compared to epi- 
 lepsy, the one being a chronic, the other an inter- 
 inconti- mittcut depravity. There is in fact an absolutely 
 v^cef"" generic distinction between incontinence and vice; 
 for vice may be, but incontinence cannot be, uncon- 
 scious, 
 inconti- There are two classes of incontinent people, and 
 
 twolkinds. thoso wlio simply lose command of themselves are 
 better than those who possess reason but do not 
 abide by it, as they are not overcome by so violent an 
 emotion, nor do they act without previous delibera- 
 tion like the others. For an incontinent person may 
 be compared to one who gets intoxicated with a little 
 wine, i.e. with less wine than ordinary people. 
 
 It is evident then that incontinence is not vice 
 (although there is, I think, a sense in Avhich it is a 
 vice), for the former is contrary, and the latter is 
 conformable, to moral parpose. Still they come to 
 much the same thing as regards actions ; it is like the 
 saying of Demodocus' about the Milesians, "The 
 Milesians are not fools but they act just like fools" ; 
 so the incontinent are not unjust but they act un- 
 justly. 
 
 The incontinent man then is the kind of person to 
 
 1 The epigrammatist of Leros. 
 
CHAP. IX.] OP ARISTOTLE. 229 
 
 pursue such bodily pleasures as are excessive and 
 contrary to right reason, although not from convic- 
 tion of their goodness, but the vicious man is con- 
 vinced of their goodness because he is the kind of 
 person to pursue them; hence it is easy to convert 
 the foi-mer, but not the latter. For virtue is pre- 
 servative, and vice destructive, of principle; but in 
 actions the object is a first principle', like the hypo- 
 theses or definitions in mathematics. In mathematics 
 then it is not the reason which is capable of proving 
 the first principle, nor is it in actions ; it is the virtue, 
 whether natural or acquired, of forming a right opinion 
 about the first principle, i.e. about the object of action. 
 A person who possesses this virtue tlien is temperate ; 
 a person who does not possess it is licentious. 
 
 But there are people who are apt to be so carried 
 away by emotion as to act contrary to right reason ; 
 they are so far overcome by emotion as not to act in 
 accordance with right reason, but not so far overcome 
 as to be convinced that they ought to pursue such 
 pleasures unreservedly. These are incontinent people ; 
 they are superior to the licentious,.and not absolutely 
 bad; for they have not lost, the highest good, viz. the 
 first principle. Opposite to these is another class of 
 people who are capable of abiding by their principle 
 and are not liable to be carried away, at least by 
 emotion. It is evident from these considerations that 
 the moral state of the former is vicious and that of the 
 latter is virtuous. 
 
 ' There is again a play upon the two senses of dpx<7 (1) a 
 beginning, (2) a first principle or moral assumption. 
 
230 THE NICOMACHEAN IITHICS [bOOK VIT. 
 
 Chap. X. It remains to ash then, Is a person continent, if ho 
 ^«jj*^°^^°* abides by his reason and moral purpose, whatever 
 to moral they may be, or only if he abides by them when they 
 purpose. ^^^ right? Is he incontinent, if he does not abide by 
 his moral purpose or reason, whatever they may be? 
 or is it only, if he does not abide by true reason and 
 right purpose'? This is a difficulty which has been 
 p. 208. already raised. The answer seems to be that, al- 
 though it may accidentally be any sort of reason or 
 purpose, yet essentially it is true reason and right 
 purpose, by which the one does, and the other does 
 not, abide. For if a person chooses or pursues a 
 thing which may be called A for the sake of some- 
 thing else which may be called B, it is B which he 
 pursues and chooses essentially, and A only accident- 
 ally. By "essentially" we mean "absolutely," and 
 therefore although in a certain sense it is any sort of 
 opinion by which the one abides, and from which the 
 other departs, yet in an absolute sense it is true 
 opinion. 
 ObBtinacy. There are certain people who are ready to abide 
 by their opinion at all costs ; we call them obstinate. 
 They are people, I mean, who are hard to persuade, 
 and not easy to convert. Such people bear some 
 resemblance to continent people, as do prodigals to 
 liberal people, and foolhardy people to courageous, 
 but there are many points of difference. For while 
 the continent person does not veer about under the 
 influence of emotion and desire, he is not immovable; 
 
 1 I follow Mr Bywater in reading r) 6 r^ fifj -^ivbtl \6y<f koI 
 
 Tj wpoaipiiTfi TJj opOfi, 
 
CHAP. X.J OF AEISTOTLE. 231 
 
 it is easy to persuade him on occasion; but the 
 obstinate person resists the persuasion of reason, 
 since, as a matter of fact, such people may conceive 
 desires, and are frequently led away by pleasure. 
 
 People who are self-opinionated, or ignorant, or 
 boorish, are aU obstinate. Self-opinionated people 
 are so from motives of pleasure and pain ; for they 
 have a pleasant sense of victory in refusing to be 
 convinced, and are pained, if their opinions, like bills 
 before Parliament, are rejected. They are therefore 
 more like incontinent than continent people. There 
 are also some people who do not abide by their 
 resolutions, but the reason is not incontinence; Neop- 
 tolemus in the PhUoetetes of Sophocles is such a 
 person. It was pleasure indeed which prevented him 
 from abiding by his opinion, but it was a noble 
 pleasure; for it was noble in his eyes to speak the 
 truth, although he was persuaded by Odysseus to tell 
 a lie. It is not everybody who acts from a motive of 
 pleasure that is licentious or vdcked or incontinent, 
 but only if the pleasure be a disgraceful one. 
 
 There are people too whose character it is to take Chap. xi. 
 less pleasure than is right in bodily gratifications, 
 and in virtue of their character not to abide by 
 reason. The continent person then is intermediate 
 between such people and the incontinent. For the 
 reason why the incontinent person does not abide by 
 reason lies in an excess, and the reason why the 
 insensible person does not abide by it lies in a 
 deficiency; but the continent person does abide by it, 
 and is not aflfected either by the excess or by the 
 deficiency. 
 
232 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 But assuming that continence is virtuous, we must 
 conclude that both the moral states which are 
 opposed to it are vicious, as in fact they clearly are ; 
 but because one of these states, viz. insensibility, is 
 seen only in few instances and on rare occasions, it 
 seems that continence is the opposite of incontinence, 
 as temperance of licentiousness^ 
 
 Analogy is a frequent source of names. Such an 
 expression then as "the continence of the temperate 
 person" is a case of analogy. For it is the character 
 both of the continent person and of the temperate 
 person not to be induced by bodily pleasures to do 
 anything that is contrary to reason; only the diffe- 
 rence is that the former- has, and the latter has not, 
 bad desires, the former is the kind of person who 
 will not feel such pleasure as is contrary to reason, 
 the latter the kind of person who will feel such 
 pleasure but who will not be led away by it. 
 
 The incontinent person and the licentious person 
 resemble each other, although they are different. 
 Both pursue bodily pleasures, but the former does 
 not, and the latter does, regard it as right to pursue 
 them. 
 inoonti- It is impossible then for the same person to be 
 
 Prudeuce. ^^ ouce prudent and incontinent; for it has been 
 shown, that prudence implies a virtuous character. 
 Again, pmdence consists not merely in knowledge 
 but in capacity for moral action, and the incontinent 
 person is incapable of such action. But there is no 
 reason why the clever person should not be inconti- 
 nent. Hence it is that people are sometimes thought 
 to be incontinent, although they are prudent, because 
 
CHAP. XI.] OF ARISTOTLK. 233 
 
 cleverness differs from prudence in the manner de- p. 200. 
 scribed in an early part' of this treatise, and, while it 
 is allied to it in intellectual ability, is different from 
 it in its moral purpose. 
 
 Nor again is the incontinent person like one who 
 has knowledge and reflexion, but like one who is 
 asleep or intoxicated. He acts voluntarily, for in a 
 certain sense he knows both what he is doing and 
 what is his object in doing it, but he is not wicked, as 
 his purpose is virtuous ; he may therefore be said to 
 be only half wicked. Incontinent people too are not 
 unjust, as they are not cunning. They are either 
 incapable of abiding by the results of their delibera- 
 tion, or they are atrabilious and incapable of delibe- 
 rating at all. The incontinent person then, may be 
 compared to a State which passes all such bills as it 
 ought to pass, and has excellent laws, but does not 
 carry them out, according to the taunt of Anaxan- 
 drides' 
 
 '"Twas the State's- will; the State recks not of law." 
 The wicked man on the other hand may be compared 
 to a State which carries out its laws, but whose laws 
 are bad. 
 
 Incontinence and continence then have to do 
 with something that goes beyond the average moral 
 state of mankind; for the continent man abides more, 
 and the incontinent, man less, by his moral purpose 
 than is in the power of ordinary people. 
 
 ^ Aristotle uses the phrase iv rois irpdirois Xoyots to denote 
 not the earliest — but any earlier — ^part of his book. 
 
 2 The poet of the Middle Comedy, who is said to have 
 satirized the Athenians. 
 
234 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIL 
 
 Various There are various kinds of incontinence, and the 
 
 inconti- incontinence of the atrabilious is more easily curable 
 
 nence. 
 
 than that of people who deliberate, but do not abide 
 by the results of their deliberation. Again, it is 
 easier to cure people who are incontinent by habit 
 than by nature, as it is easier to change habit than to 
 change nature. In fact the reason why habit is itself 
 so difficult to change is that it resembles nature, as 
 Evenus' says 
 
 "Practice, I say, enduretli long, my friend, 
 And is a second nature in the end." 
 
 We have now discussed the nature of continence 
 and incontinence, of steadfastness and effeminacy, 
 and the mutual relations of these states of mind. 
 Chap. xn. The consideration of pleasure and pain belongs to 
 
 Pleasure r o 
 
 and pain, the political philosopher. He is the architect who 
 frames the idea of the end which we have in view in 
 defining good and evil in an absolute sense. 
 
 There is another reason too why it is necessary to 
 review pleasure and pain; we defined moral virtue 
 and vice as having to do with pains and pleasures, 
 and it is the general opinion that happiness implies 
 pleasure^. 
 , Pleasure Now (1) there are some people who hold that no 
 
 and good, pleasure is a good, either essentially or accidentally, 
 as good and pleasure are not the same thing. (2) 
 Others hold that, while some pleasures are good, the 
 
 ^ The gnomic poet of Paros. 
 
 ^ A clause omitted in translation refers to the supposed ety- 
 mological connexion between iimapios (blessed) and x'^'-P^"' (*" 
 rejoice). 
 
eHAP. XU.] OF ARISTOTLE. 235 
 
 majority are bad. (3) There is also a third opinion, 
 that, even if every pleasure is a good, stiU the supreme 
 good cannot possibly be pleasure. 
 
 (1) Speaking generally, we may say that pleasure 
 is not a good, because every pleasure is a sensible 
 process of coming to a natural state, and no process 
 is akin to the ends, e.g. no process of building to a 
 house. Another reason is that the temperate man 
 eschews pleasures. Again, the prudent man pursues 
 painlessness, but not pleasure. Pleasures too are an 
 impediment to thoughtfulness, and the greater the 
 pleasure, the greater is the impediment, as e.g. the 
 pleasure of love, for thought is out of the question, 
 while it lasts. Again there is no art of pleasure, but 
 every good is a product of art. And lastly children 
 and brute beasts pursue pleasures. 
 
 (2) In support of the view that it is not all plea- 
 sures which are virtuous, it is argued that there are 
 some pleasures which are disgraceful and disreputable 
 and injurious as well, for some things which are 
 pleasant are dangerous to health. 
 
 (3) It is also argued that pleasure is not the 
 supreme good, because it is not the end, but a 
 process. 
 
 These are, in general, the views which are put Chap.xiti. 
 forward. But it does not follow that pleasure is not 
 a good, or the supreme good, as is clear from the 
 following considerations: 
 
 In the first place, as the good is of two kinds, Gooa. 
 being either absolute or relative, natures and moral 
 states, and therefore motions and processes too, will 
 be consequently also of two kinds; and of those 
 
236 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 which are called bad some are bad absolutely and 
 not bad relatively to the individual, but desirable for 
 him ; some are not desirable for the individual, except 
 occasionally, and for a short time; others are not 
 pleasures at all, but only apparent pleasures, if they 
 involve pain and are remedial in their nature, as e.g. 
 the pleasures of the sick. 
 Nature of Again, as the good may be either an activity or a 
 p easure. j^Qj.g^ state, it is Only in an accidental sense that such 
 processes as restore a person to his natural condition 
 can be said to be pleasant. In tlie satis/action of the 
 desires there is the activity of the remaining part of 
 the state or nature', ie. of the part which does not 
 feel the desire; nor is desire a necessary condition of 
 2)leasiire; for there are pleasures which are indepen- 
 dent of pain or desire, as e.g. the activities of the 
 speculative life in which nature does not exhibit any 
 want. It is an indication of this fact that people do 
 not find delight in the same pleasure during the 
 process of satisfying thfeir nature, as when their 
 nature is in its normal condition ; when its condition 
 is normal, they find delight in such things as are 
 pleasures in an absolute sense, but during the pro- 
 cess of satisfaction, in such things as are actually 
 opposite to these, for they find delight in things 
 which are acid and bitter, although no such thing is 
 either naturally or absolutely pleasant. These plea- 
 sures then are not natural or absolute pleasures ; for 
 the pleasures resulting from pleasant things are 
 related to one another in the same way as the 
 pleasant things themselves. 
 
 ^ The expression is made clear by p. 138, 1. 30. 
 
CHAP. XIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 237 
 
 Again, it is not necessary that there should be 
 something else which is better than pleasure in the 
 sense, as some people maintain, in which the end is 
 better than the process which leads to it. For plea- 
 sures are not all processes nor concomitants of a 
 process, but activities, and an end. We experience 
 them not in the process of o/cquiring certain powers 
 but in the exercise of the powers when acquired. 
 Nor is it true that in aU pleasures there is an end 
 distinct from the pleasures themselyes ; it is true only 
 of such pleasures as occur to people in the process 
 of being brought to the consummation or complete 
 realization of their nature. 
 
 It is wrong therefore to define pleasure as a Definition 
 
 . ■, K • oipleasure. 
 
 sensible process. It is better to define it as an 
 "activity of the natural state of one's being," and to 
 call it not "sensible" but "unimpeded." It is some- 
 times thought to be a process, as being a good in the 
 proper sense of the term ; for people suppose that an 
 activity is a process, but they are really diflerent. 
 
 To say that pleasures are bad, because some 
 things which are pleasant are injurious, is equivalent 
 to saying that health is bad, because some things 
 which are healthy are bad for money-making. It is 
 true that in this sense both are bad, but this does not 
 prove them to be bad in themselves; for study itself 
 is at times injurious to health. But neither prudence 
 nor any moral state is impeded by the pleasure 
 which it produces; they are impeded only by alien 
 pleasures, as the pleasures of study and learning will 
 only make a person study and learn the more. 
 
 It is natural that pleasure should not be a product No art of 
 
238 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 of any art, for there is no art which produces any 
 other activity. Art merely produces the faculty, 
 although the art of the perfumer or the cook may be 
 held to be in a sense productive of pleasure. 
 
 The objections that the temperate man avoids 
 pleasure, that the prudent man pursues not pleoiswre, 
 hut a painless life, and that children and brutes 
 pursue pleasure, may all be met with the same auswei*. 
 It has been stated in what sense all pleasures are 
 good absolutely, and in what sense they are not good 
 absolutely- It is pleasures of the latter kind that 
 brutes and children pursue. It is painlessness in 
 respect of them that a prudent man pursues. They 
 are such pleasures as involve desii'e and pain or in 
 other words bodily pleasures (for these involve desire 
 and pain) and the excesses of pleasures which consti- 
 tute the licentiousness of the licentious man. Hence 
 the temperate man will avoid these pleasures, although 
 he has pleasures of his own. 
 Chap. XIV. Howcver, it is admitted that pain is an evil and 
 Mnan ^jjg^^ jj; ought to be avoided. It is an evil either 
 absolutely or relatively, as causing some impediment 
 to the individual. But the opposite of that which 
 ought to be avoided, in the respect in which it ought 
 to be avoided, and is bad, is good. It follows there- 
 pieasure a fore that pleasure is a good; for the objection of 
 ^°° ' Speusippus, that pleasure is contrary to pain in the 
 same way as the greater is contrary to the less as 
 well as to the equal', cannot stand; for he would not 
 
 ' If pleasure and pain were extremes and the good were 
 intermediate between them, it would follow that pleasure is an 
 evil 
 
CHAP. Xir.] OF ARISTOTLE. 239 
 
 maintain that pleasure is identical with some form of 
 evil. 
 
 Nor does it follow that there is not some pleasure 
 which is the supreme good, because there are some 
 vicious pleasures, any more than it follows that some 
 knowledge is not the supreme good although there 
 are vicious kinds of knowledge. Indeed it is, I think, 
 necessary, as every moral state admits of unimpeded 
 activities, that, whether it be the activity of them all, 
 or of some one of them, which is happiness, it should 
 be most desirable, if it is unimpeded ; but such un- 
 impeded activity is pleasure. Hence it will be plea- Pieaanre of 
 sure of some kind which is the supreme good, although th^su- 
 most pleasures are, it may be, in an absolute sense ^qq™® 
 vicious. 
 
 It is on this ground that everybody supposes a Happiness 
 happy life to be pleasant, and happiness to involve ^ef ^* 
 pleasure ; the supposition is reasonable, as no activity 
 is iperfect if it be impeded, and happiness is in its 
 nature perfect. It follows that the happy man re- 
 quires bodily goods, external goods and good fortune 
 as accessories to his happiness, if his activity is not 
 to be impeded. But to assert that a person on the 
 rack, or a person plunged in the depth of calamities, 
 is happy is either intentionally or unintentionally to 
 talk nonsense. 
 
 The fact that good fortune is a necessary adjunct Happiness 
 to happiness leads some people to hold that good fortune. 
 fortune is identical with happiness, but it is not 
 so. It is an actual impediment to happiness, if 
 it be excessive, and then perhaps should rightly 
 cease to be called good fortune; for the definition 
 
24Q THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 of good fortune depends on its relation to hap- 
 piness. 
 Pleasure Again, the fact that all brutes and all men pursue 
 
 supreme pleasure is a certain indication of its being in some 
 ^°° ' sense the supreme good; for 
 
 "Jfo voice is wholly lost that is the voice of many men'." 
 
 But inasmuch as it is not the same nature or 
 moral state that is, or is thought to be, the best, so it 
 is not the same pleasure which is universally sought. 
 Still it is pleasure. It may even be the case that all 
 men really pursue not the pleasure which they fancy, 
 or would say, they are pursuing, but a pleasure which 
 is the same for all; for there is a divine instinct 
 naturally implanted in all things. But bodily plea- 
 sures have usurped the title to the name "pleasure," 
 as it is to them that people are most frequently 
 diverted, and in them that everybody participates. 
 These are then the only pleasures that people know, 
 and they are therefore held to be the only pleasures 
 that exist. 
 
 But it is evident that, unless pleasure or the 
 tmimpeded activity vjhieh is pleasv/re is a good, it 
 will be impossible for the happy man to live pleasantly. 
 For why should he want pleasure, if it is not a good, 
 and if it is possible for him, us it then would he, to 
 live painfully? For if pleasure is not an evil or a 
 good, neither is pain. Why then should he avoid 
 pain? Nor will the life of the virtuous man be 
 pleasanter than that of any one else, unless his activi- 
 ties are pleasanter. 
 
 I Hesiod*Epyn Koi 'Hiiepat 761. 
 
CHAP, XIV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 241 
 
 The investigation of bodily pleasures is necessary, BodUy 
 if we hold that some pleasures, if not all, are highly ^ ^*^°^®^' 
 desirable, i.e. noble pleasures but not bodily pleasures 
 nor the pleasures of the incontinent. It may be asked 
 why, if these pleasures are vicious, the pains which are 
 opposite to them are vicious ; for the opposite of evil 
 is good. Is it to be said then that necessary pleasures 
 are only good in the sense that whatever is not evil 
 is good? Or are they good up to a certaiii point? 
 
 In all moral states and motions in which it is 
 impossible to exceed the right limit of good, it is 
 impossible also to exceed the right limit of pleasure ; 
 but where there is a possible excess of good, there is 
 also a possible excess of pleasure. 
 
 Now bodily goods admit of excess, and vice con- 
 sists in pursuing the excess, not in pursuing the 
 necessary pleasures; for everybody finds a certain 
 satisfaction in rich meats or wines or the pleasures of 
 love, but not always the proper satisfaction. The 
 contrary is the case with pain. People in general 
 do not avoid the excess of pain, but avoid pain 
 altogether; for such pain as is opposite to excessive 
 pleasure is felt only by one who pursues that exces- 
 sive pleasure. 
 
 ' It is right however to explain not the truth only Chat. xv. 
 but the cause of error also, as this explanation helps 
 to produce belief. For when the reason why a thing 
 which is not true appears to be true is seen and 
 understood, it strengthens belief in the truth. WeSodUy 
 
 « ■• • 1 ■, . n J 1 Ti 1 pleasures. 
 
 must therefore explam why it is that bodily pleasures 
 appear more desirable than other pleasures. 
 
 It is, firstly, then that such pleasure drives out 
 
 W. N. K. 16 
 
242 THE NICOMACHAEAN ETHICS [bOOK VII. 
 
 pain. The excesses of pain make people pursue 
 excessive pleasure, and bodily pleasure generally, as a 
 remedy. But the remedies of severe diseases are fre-. 
 quently severe, and people pursue them from their 
 apparent contrast to the opposite pains. 
 p. 235. (There are these two reasons> as has been said, why 
 
 pleasure is thought not to be virtuous, viz. (1) That 
 some pleasures are actions of a base nature, whether 
 the baseness be congenital, as in a brute, or acquired, 
 as in a vicious man. (2) That other pleasures are 
 remedial, implying a want, and that the existence of 
 the normal state is better than the process to that 
 state ; these pleasures then are felt only when we are 
 coming to a normal or perfect state; they' are there- 
 fore only accidentally virtuous)". 
 
 Bodily pleasures too, as being violent, are pursued 
 by people who are incapable of finding gratification 
 in other pleasures. Thus people sometimes make 
 themselves thirsty in order to enjoy the pleasure of 
 satisfying their thirst. So long as these pleasures 
 are harmless, there is no ground for censuring them 
 (although it is wrong to pursue them, when they are 
 harmful), for people who pursue them have no other 
 objects of gratification, and a neutral state of the 
 sensations is naturally painful to many people. For 
 an animal is constantly labouring, as we read in books 
 on physical science, where it is said that seeing and 
 hearing are painful, but we have got accustomed to 
 
 ^ The stop after ytvea-dcu should be a colon. 
 2 The passage which I have placed in brackets is an evident 
 interruption of the argument, 
 
CHAP. XV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 243 
 
 them by this time, as the saying is. Similarly in 
 youth people, because they are growing, are much 
 in the same state as drunken people, and youth is 
 pleasant. Again, people of an atrabilious nature 
 require constant medicine, as their temperament con- 
 stantly frets their body away, and thus they are 
 always in a state of strong desire. But pain is ex- 
 pelled either by the pleasure which is its opjjosite, or 
 by any pleasure if it be strong. This is why atra- 
 bilious people fall into licentiousness and wicked- 
 ness. 
 
 Such pleasures on the other hand as have no Natural 
 antecedent pains do not admit of excess ; they are ^ * 
 naturally, and not merely accidentally pleasant. By 
 "accidental pleasures" I mean such as are remedial in 
 their effect; for as we are cured by the action of the 
 remaining healthy part of our nature, the process of 
 cure is pleasant. By "natural pleasures" I mean 
 such as produce action of our whole nature in a 
 healthy state. 
 
 The same thing is never constantly pleasant to us, 
 as our nature is not simple, but there exists in us a 
 sort' of second nature, which makes us mortal beings. 
 Thus if one element is active, it acts against the 
 nature of the other, and when the two elements are 
 in equilibrium, the action appears to be neither 
 painful nor pleasant. If there were a being, whose 
 nature is simple, the same action would always be 
 supremely pleasant to him. It is thus that God 
 enjoys one simple pleasure everlastingly; for there is 
 an activity not only of motion but of immobility, and 
 pleasure consists rather in rest than in motion. But 
 
 16—2 
 
244 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [bK. VII. 
 
 change, as the poet' says, is "the sweetest thing in 
 the world," and the reason lies in a certain viciousness 
 of our nature; for as the vicious man is fond of 
 change, so too the nature which requires change is 
 vicious, it is not simple or virtuous. 
 
 We have now discussed continence and inconti- 
 nence, pleasure and pain, their nature and the reason 
 why some of them are good and others bad. It 
 remains to discuss friendship or love. 
 
 ' Euripides, Orestes, v. 234, but the reading there is yKviai. 
 
BOOK VIII. 
 
 It will be natural to discuss friendship' or love Chap. i. 
 next, for friendship is a kind of virtue or implies or^Love. ^^ 
 virtue. It is also indispensable to life. For nobody J* '? 
 would choose to live without friends, although he pensabie ; 
 were in possession of every other good. Nay, it 
 seems that if people are rich and hold official and 
 authoritative positions, they have the greatest need of 
 friends ; for what is the good of having this sort of 
 prosperity if one is denied the opportunity of benefi- 
 cence,' which is never so freely or so admirably 
 exercised as towards friends? Or how can it be 
 maintained in safety and security without friends? 
 For the greater a person's importance, the more 
 liable it is to disaster. In poverty and other mis- 
 fortunes we regard our friends as our only refuge. 
 Again, friends are helpful to us, when we are young, 
 as guarding us from error, and when we are growing 
 old, as taking care of us, and supplying such de- 
 
 ^ If it were necessary to choose one word for ^iXta the best 
 would be "friendship," but it corresponds as substantive to the 
 meanings of the verb (^tXeiv and therefore rises at times in point 
 of intensity to "love." 
 
246 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 ficiencies of action as are the consequences of phy- 
 sical weakness, and when we are in the prime of life, 
 as prompting us to noble actions, according to the 
 adage 
 
 "Two come together''; 
 
 for two people have a greater power both of intelli- 
 gence and gf action tlia/n either of the tivo by Mmsdf. 
 
 (2) natural; It would Seem that friendship or love is the 
 
 natural instinct of a parent towards a child, and of a 
 child towards a parent, not only among men, but 
 among birds and animals generally, and among crea- 
 tures of the same race towards one another, especially 
 among men. This is the reason why we praise men 
 who are the friends of their fellow-men or philan- 
 thropists. "We may observe too in travelling how 
 near and dear every man is to his fellow-man. 
 
 (3) social; Again, it seems that friendship or love is the bond 
 
 which holds states together, and that legislators set 
 more store by it than by justice; for concord is 
 apparently akin to friendship, and it is concord that 
 they especially seek to promote, and faction, as being 
 hostility to the state, that they especially try to expel. 
 If people are friends, there is no need of justice 
 between them ; but people may be just, and yet need 
 friendship. Indeed it seems that justice, in its su- 
 preme form, assumes the character of friendship. 
 
 1 Iliad X. 224. It is where Biomedes expresses his desire for 
 a companion in invading the Trojan camp. 
 
 dW f" tIs fioi dvfip aji enoiro Koi aWos 
 liaWov ^aXjrapi), Koi Bapo-aKedrcpov (irrai. 
 <TVV re dv epxa/iiva, nai re vph o toC ivorjtrep: 
 
CHAP, r.] or ARISTOTLE. 247 
 
 Kor is friendship indispensable only ; it is also (*) •'o^'i^- 
 noble. We praise people who are fond of their 
 friends, and it is thought to be a noble thing to have 
 many friends, and there are some people who hold 
 that to be a friend is the same thing as to be a good 
 man. 
 
 But the subject of friendship or love is one that Chap. n. 
 affords scope for a good many differences of opinion, frfe^ahip 
 Some people define it as a sort of likeness, and define °^ ^°^^ 
 people who are like each other as friends. Hence the 
 sayings "Like seeks like," "Birds of a feather," and so 
 on. Others on the contrary say that "two of a trade 
 never agreed" Upon this subject some philosophieal 
 thinkers indulge in more profound physical specula- 
 tions ; Euripides asserting that 
 
 "the parched Earth loves the rain, 
 And the great Heaven rain-laden loves to fall 
 Earthwards "2; 
 
 Heraclitus that "the contending tends together," and 
 that "harmony most beautiful is formed of discords," 
 and that "all things are by strife engendered;" others, 
 among whom is Erapedocles, taking the opposite view 
 and urging that "like desires like." 
 
 The physical" questions we may leave aside as not 
 
 ^ The allusion is to the proverbial quarrelsomeness of two 
 potters, as in Hesiod's line 
 
 Koi Kepa/icvs Kepaiiei KOTfft Ka\ tcktovl TeKTav. 
 "Kpya Koi 'ti/iepai 25. 
 
 " The play from which these lines are taken is unknown. 
 
 3 "physical questions," i.e. questions relating to the constitu- 
 tion of the physical universe as contrasted with questions relating 
 to the constitution of human nature. ' 
 
248 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 being germane to the present enquiry. But let us 
 investigate all such questions as are of human inte- 
 rest and relate to characters and emotions, e.g. whether 
 friendship can be formed among all people, or it is 
 impossible for -people to be friends if they are vicious, 
 and whether there is one kind of friendship or more 
 than one. 
 Friendsiiip The idea that there is only one kind of friendship 
 kiiSs\han or lovc, bccause it admits of degrees, rests upon in- 
 °"^' sufficient evidence ; for things may be different in 
 
 kind, and yet may admit of degrees. But this is a 
 question which has been, already discussed'. 
 The It is possible, I think, to elucidate the subject of 
 
 friendship or love, by determining what it is that is 
 lovable or an object of love. For it seems that it is 
 not everything which is loved, but only that which is 
 lovable, and that this is what is good or pleasant or 
 useful. It would seem too that a thing is useful if it 
 is a means of gaining something good or pleasant, 
 and if so, it follows that what is good and what is 
 pleasant will be lovable in the sense of being ends. 
 
 It may be asked then. Is it that which is good in 
 itself, or that which is good relatively to us, that we 
 love? For there is sometimes a difference between 
 them ; and the same question may be asked in regard 
 to that which is pleasant. It seems then that every- 
 body loves what is good relatively to himself, and 
 that, while it is the good which is lovable in an 
 
 1 There 18 no such discussion in the earlier part of the Nieo- 
 machean Ethics. Perhaps, as Sir A. Grant thought, the words 
 elprjTai 8' vnep airav eiiirpo(r$cv are the interpolation of a copyist. 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 249 
 
 absolute sense, it is tliat which is good relatively to 
 each individual that is lovable in his eyes. It may be 
 said that everybody loves not that which is good, but 
 that which appears good relatively to himself. But 
 this is not an objection that will make any difference; 
 for in that case that which is lovable will be that 
 which appears to be lovable. 
 
 There being three motives of friendship or love, it Limitation 
 must be observed that we do not apply the term "lup or 
 "friendship" or "love" to the affection felt for inani-^°^®- 
 mate things. The reason is (1) that they are incap- 
 able of reciprocating affection, and (2) that we do not 
 wish their good; for it would, I think, be ridiculous 
 to wish the good e.g. of wine ; if we wish it at all, it 
 is only in the sense of wishing the wine to keep well, 
 in the hope of enjoying it ourselves. But it is admit- 
 ted that we ought to wish our friend's good for his 
 sake, and not for our own. If we vdsh people good 
 in this sense, we are called well-wishers, unless our 
 good wishes are returned ; such reciprocal well-wish- 
 ing is called friendship or love. 
 
 But it is necessary, I think, to add, that the well- 
 wishing must not be unknown. A person often wishes 
 well to people whom he has not seen, but whom he 
 supposes to be virtuous or useful ; and it is possible 
 that one of these persons may entertain the same 
 feeling towards him. Such people then, it is clear, 
 wish well to one another; but they cannot be pro- 
 perly called friends, as their disposition is unknown 
 to each other. It follows that, if they are to be 
 friends, they must be well-disposed to each other, 
 and must wish each other's good, from one of the 
 
250 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOIC VIII. 
 
 motives which have been assigned, and that each of 
 
 them must know the fact of the other wishing him 
 
 well. 
 
 Chap. ni. But as the motives of friendship are specifically 
 
 w^ds^of' different, there will be a corresponding difference in 
 
 friendship the affectious and friendships. 
 
 The kinds of friendship therefore will be three, 
 being equal in number to the things which are lov- 
 able, or are objects of friendship or love, as every such 
 object admits of a reciprocal affection between two 
 persons, each of whom is aware of the other's love. 
 Motives People who love each other wish each other's 
 
 ship or"^ good in the point characteristic of their love. Accord- 
 lore, ingly those whose mutual love is based upon utility 
 do not love each other for their own sakes, but only 
 in so far as they derive some benefit one from another. 
 It is the same with those whose love is based upon 
 pleasure. Thus we are fond of witty people, not as 
 possessing a certain character, but as being pleasant 
 to ourselves. People then, whose love is based upon 
 utility, are moved to affection by a sense of their own 
 good, and people whose love is based upon pleasure, 
 by a sense of their own pleasure ; and they love a 
 person not for being what he is in himself, but for 
 being useful or pleasant to them. These friendships 
 then are only friendships in an accidental sense; for 
 the person loved is not loved as being what he is, but 
 as being a source either of good or of pleasure. 
 Accordingly such friendships are easily dissolved, if 
 the persons do not continue always the same; for 
 they abandon their love if they cease to be pleasant 
 or useful to each other. But utility is not a perma- 
 
CHAP. III.] OF ARISTOTLE. 251 
 
 nent quality ; it varies at different times. Thus, when 
 the motive of a friendship is done away, the friend- 
 ship itself is dissolved, as it was dependent upon that 
 motive. A friendship of this kind seems especially to 
 occur among old people, as in old age we look to 
 profit rather than pleasure, and among such people 
 in the prime of life or in youth as have an eye to 
 their own interest. Friends of this kind do not 
 generally even live together ; for sometimes they are 
 not even pleasant to one another ; nor do they need 
 the intercourse of friendship, unless they bring some 
 profit to one another, as the pleasure which they 
 afford goes no further than they entertain hopes of 
 deriving benefit from it. Among these friendships 
 we reckon the friendship of hospitality, i.e.the friend- 
 ship which eodsts between a host and his guests. 
 
 It would seem that the friendship of the young is 
 based upon pleasure; for they love by emotion and 
 are most inclined to pursue what is pleasant to them 
 at- the moment. But as their time of life changes, 
 their pleasures are transformed. They are therefore 
 quick at making friendships and quick at abandoning 
 them; for the friendship changes with the object 
 which pleases them, and friendship of this kind is 
 liable to sudden change. Young men are amorous 
 too, amorousness being generally a matter of emotion 
 and pleasure ; hence they fall in love and soon after- 
 wards fall out of love, changing from one condition to 
 another many times in the same day. But amorous 
 people wish to spend their days and lives together, as 
 it is thus that they attain the object of their friend- 
 ship. 
 
252 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 Chap. iv. The perfect friendship or love is the friendship or 
 ftimflshi ^^"^^ "^ people who are good and alike in virtue ; for 
 or love, these people are alike in ■wishing each other's good, 
 in so far as they are good, and they are good in them- 
 selves. But it is people who wish the good of their 
 friends for their friend's sake that are in the truest 
 sense friends, as their friendship is the consequence 
 of their own character, and is not an accident. Their 
 friendship therefore continues as long as their virtue, 
 and virtue is a permanent quality. 
 
 (1) Its Again, each of them is good in an absolute sense, 
 goodiiess. and good in relation to his friend. For good men 
 
 are not only good in an absolute sense, but serve each 
 
 (2) Its plea- other's interest. They are pleasant too ; for the good 
 
 santness. i , » ^ i ± ji j. * 
 
 are pleasant in an absolute sense, and pleasant m 
 relation to one another, as everybody finds pleasure 
 in such actions as are proper to him, and the like, and 
 all good people act alike or nearly alike. 
 
 (3) Its per- Such a friendship is naturally permanent, as it 
 manency. ^j^j^^g j^^ itsclf all the proper conditions of friendship. 
 
 For the motive of all friendship or affection is good 
 or pleasure, whether it be absolute or relative to the 
 person who feels the affection, and it depends upon a 
 certain similaritj'. In the friendship of good men all 
 these specified conditions belong to the friends in 
 themselves ; for other friendships only bear a resem- 
 blance to the perfect friendship. That which is good 
 in an absolute sense is also in an absolute sense 
 pleasant. These are the principal objects of affection, 
 and it is upon these that affectionate feeling, and 
 affection in the highest and best sense, depend. 
 
 (4) Its Friendships of this kind are likely to be rare : for 
 
 rarity. '' ' 
 
CHAP. IV. J OF ARISTOTLE. 253 
 
 such people are few. They require time and fami- 
 liarity too ; for, as the adage puts it, it is impossible 
 for people to know one another until they have 
 consumed the proverbial salt together; nor can 
 people admit one another to friendship, or be friends 
 at all, until each has been proved lovable and trust- 
 worthy to the other. 
 
 People, who are quick to treat one another as 
 friends, wish to be friends but are not so really, unless 
 they are lovable and know each other to be lovable ; 
 for the wish to be friends may arise in a minute, but 
 not friendship. 
 
 This friendship then is perfect in point of time Chap. v. 
 and in all other respects; and each friend receives 
 from the other the same or nearly the same treat- 
 ment in all respects, as ought to be the case. 
 
 The friendship which is based upon pleasiu-e Friend- 
 presents a certain resemblance to this, as the goodpieasiSe 
 are also pleasant to one another. It is the same with *"^ ^^^^y- 
 the friendship which is based upon utility, as the 
 good are also useful to one another. But here again 
 friendships are most likely to be permanent in cases 
 where that which the two persons derive from one 
 another is the same thing, e.g. pleasure, and not only ^ 
 the same thing in itself, but the same in the source 
 from which it comes, as in the case of two wits, and 
 not as in the case of a lover and his beloved. For 
 the lover and his beloved do not find pleasure in the 
 same things ; the pleasure of the one is in seeing the 
 object of his love, and that of the other in being 
 courted by his lover. Thus it sometimes happens 
 that, when the beauty passes away, the affection 
 
254 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII, 
 
 passes away too; for the lover finds no pleasure in 
 the sight of his beloved, and the beloved object is 
 not courted by his lover. But it often happens on 
 the other hand that people remain friends if their 
 characters are similar, and familiarity has inspired 
 them with affection for each other's character. 
 
 People Avho in their love affairs give and receive 
 not pleasure but profit are less true and less per- 
 manent friends. Friendships resting upon utility are 
 dissolved as soon as the advantage comes to an end, 
 for in them there is no personal love, but only a love 
 of profit. 
 Friend- Thus for pleasure or profit it is possible that even 
 
 ships of the ijg^jj people may be friends one to another, and good 
 people to bad, and one who is neither good nor bad 
 to either; but it is clearly none but the good who can 
 be friends for the friend's own sake, as bad people do 
 not delight in one another unless some profit accrues. 
 and of ^ It is Only the friendship of the good which cannot 
 
 be destroyed by calumnies. For it is not easy to 
 believe what anyone says about a person whom we 
 have tested ourselves for many years, and found to 
 be good. The friendship of the good too realizes 
 confidence, and the assurance that neither of the two 
 friends will do injury to the other, and whatever else 
 is implied in true friendship. But in other friendships 
 there is no reason why calumnies and injuries should 
 not occur. 
 
 Now the world recognizes friendships among men, 
 where the friendship is based upon utility, in the 
 same way as among states; for it seems that expe- 
 diency is the motive with which alliances are con- 
 
 the good. 
 
CHAP, v.] OF ARISTOTLE. 255 
 
 tracted between states. It recognizes also friendships 
 where the mutual aflfectiou is based upon pleasure 
 as among children. This being the view of the world, 
 it is perhaps right to recognize such friendships, and 
 to say that there are various kinds of friendship, first 
 friendship properly so called, i.e. the friendship of the 
 good, qua good, and then other friendships which are 
 so called by analogy; for in them people are friends in 
 so far as they involve something that is good or like 
 good, as pleasure itself is a good to people who are 
 fond of pleasure. But these friendships do not alto- 
 gether coincide, nor is it the same persons who become 
 friends from motives of utility and pleasure; for 
 these are accidental qualities, and such qualities are 
 . not always combined in the same person. 
 
 As friendship is divided into these kinds, it may Chap. vi. 
 be said that while bad people Avill be friends from 
 motives of pleasure or utility and will so far resemble 
 the good, the good will be friends from love of the 
 persons themselves, i.e. from love of their goodness. 
 While the good then are friends in an absolute sense, 
 the others are friends only accidentally, and because 
 of their resemblance to the good. 
 
 As in the case of the virtues it is sometimes a ^ena- 
 
 ship or 
 
 moral state, and at other times an activity, which love eha- 
 entitles people to be described as good, so is it also by^ei^r 
 in the case of friendship or love. For people who are *t^te or"^*^ 
 living together delight in each other's society and do (2) an 
 each other good. But people who are asleep or who 
 are separated by long distances, although they are 
 not active, are in a state which disposes them to 
 activity; for distances do not destroy friendship 
 
256 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK YUI. 
 
 absolutely, they only destroy its active exercise. 
 Still if the absence be prolonged, it is supposed to 
 work oblivion of the friendship itself; whence the 
 saying 
 
 " Many a friendship is dissolved by lack of converse V 
 It does not appear that either old people or 
 austere people form friendships readily. There is 
 little in them that can give pleasure, and nobody can 
 spend all his days in the company of what is painful 
 or not pleasant ; for it appears that there is nothing 
 which nature avoids so much as what is painfal or 
 desires so much as what is pleasant. 
 
 FriendsMp If j)eople tolerate one another, but do not live 
 
 and^sociai together, they are more like well-wishers than friends ; 
 
 ^^- for there is nothing so characteristic of friendship as 
 
 living together. People who are in want of assistance 
 long to spend their lives in company, nay, fortunate 
 people themselves long to spend their days in 
 company ; for they of all people are the least suited 
 to a solitary life. But it is impossible for people to 
 live together always, unless they are pleasant to one 
 another, and have the same pleasures; and this, it 
 seems, is the characteristic of social intercourse. 
 
 Chap. yii. I* IS the friendship of the good which is friendship 
 in the truest sense, as has been said several timesj 
 For it seems that, while that which is good or pleasant 
 in an absolute sense is an object of love and desire, 
 that which is good or pleasant to each individual is an 
 object of love or desire to him; but the love or desire 
 of one good man for another depends upon such 
 
 1 k proverbial saying of unknown authorship. 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 257 
 
 goodness and pleasantness as are at once absolute 
 and relatire to the good. 
 
 Affection resembles an emotion but friendship Affection 
 resembles a moral state. For while affection may be ata frUnd- 
 felt for inanimate as much as for animate things, the j^^^ "'^ 
 love of friends for one another implies moral purpose, ('/>''t'«)- 
 and such purpose is the outcome of a moral state. 
 
 Again, we wish the good of those whom we love 
 for their own sake, and the vrish is governed not by 
 emotion but by the moral state. In loving our friend 
 too, we love what is good for ourselves; as when a 
 good man becomes a friend, he becomes a blessing to 
 his friend. Accordingly each of two friends loves 
 what is good for himself, and returns as much as he 
 receives in good wishes and in pleasure ; for, as the 
 proverb says, equality is friendship. 
 
 These conditions then are best realized in the Friendship 
 friendship or love of the good. Among austere and of the good. 
 elderly people friendship arises less easily, as they 
 are more peevish and less fond of society; for it is 
 social intercourse which seems to be the principal 
 element and cause of friendship. Thus it is that the 
 young form friendships quickly, but old people do 
 not, as they do not make friends with any body who 
 is not delightful to them, nor do austere people. 
 Such people, it is true, wish each other well; they 
 desire each other's good, and render each other 
 services ; but they are not reaUy friends, as they do 
 not satisfy the principal condition of friendship by 
 living together and delighting in each other's society. 
 
 It is as impossible to be friends with a number of 
 people in the perfect sense of friendship, as it is to be 
 
 W. N. E. 17 
 
258 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 in love with a number of people at the same time ; 
 for perfect friendship is in some sense an excess, and 
 such excess of feeling is natural towards an individual, 
 but it is not easy for a number of people to give 
 intense pleasure to the same person at the same time, 
 or, I may say, to be good at aU. Friendship too 
 implies experience and familiarity, which are very 
 difficult. But it is possible to find a number of 
 people' who are pleasant, as affording profit or 
 pleasure ; for people of this kind are numerous and 
 their services do not occupy much time. 
 Friendship Amoug such people the friendship which is based 
 o p easure. ^p^^ pleasure more nearly resembles true friendship, 
 when each party renders the same services to the 
 other, and they are delighted with each other or with 
 the same things, as e.g. in the friendships of the 
 young ; for a liberal spirit is especially characteristic 
 of these friendships. 
 Friendship The friendship which rests upon utility is com- 
 ° " '^' mercial in its character. Fortunate people do not 
 want what is useful but what is pleasant. They want 
 people to live with; and although for a short time 
 they may bear pain, nobody would endure it con- 
 tinuously; nobody would endure the good itself 
 continuously, if it were painful to him. Hence it 
 is that they require their friends to be pleasant. 
 They ought perhaps to require them also to be good, 
 and not only so, but good in relation to themselves ; 
 for then they will have all the quaUties which friends 
 ought to have. 
 
 1 Heading iroWoiis with fiamsauer. 
 
CHAP. VIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 259 
 
 It appears that people in positions of authority 
 make a distinction between their friends. Some are 
 useful to them, and others are pleasant, but the same 
 people arc not in general both useful and pleasant. 
 For they do not look for friends who are virtuous as 
 well as pleasant, or who will help them to attain 
 noble ends; they look partly for amusing people 
 when they want to be pleased, and partly for people 
 who are clever at executing their commands, and 
 these qualities are hardly ever united in the same 
 person. 
 
 It has been stated that a virtuous man is at once 
 pleasant and useful; but such a man does not become 
 the friend of one who is superior to him, unless he is 
 himself superior^ to that person in virtue. Otherwise 
 there is no such equality as occurs when his superiority 
 in virtue is proportionate to his inferiority in some 
 other respect. Friendships of this kind however are 
 exceedingly rare. 
 
 The friendships which have been described are CHAp.vin. 
 based upon equality; for the services and sentiments Different 
 of the two friends to one another are the same, or friendship 
 they exchange one thing for another, e.g. pleasure ^eJ|: 
 for profit. It has been already stated that friendships ^'^^f 
 depending on exchange are less true and less perma- 
 nent than others. As being at once similar and iwend- 
 dissioular to the same thing, such friendships may exchange. 
 be said both to be and not to be friendships. They 
 look like friendships in respect of similarity to the 
 friendship which depends upon virtue; for the one 
 
 ^ The subject of vitepixr)TaL must be o im-epex"""- 
 
 17—2 
 
260 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 possesses pleasure, the other utility, and these are 
 characteristics of virtuous friendships as well. But 
 as Tirtuous friendship is undisturbed by calumnies, 
 and is permanent, while these are quickly changed, 
 and as there are many other diflferences between 
 them, it seems that their dissimilarity to virtuous 
 friendship makes them look as if they were not friend- 
 ships at all. 
 Friend- There is another kind of friendship or love 
 
 s^M-iority depending upon superiority, e.g. the friendship or love 
 and inferi- of a father for a son, or of any elder person for a 
 younger, or of a husband for a wife, or of a ruler for 
 a subject. These friendships are of different sorts; 
 for the friendship or love of parents for children is 
 not the same as that of rulers for subjects, nor indeed 
 is the friendship or love of a father for a son the 
 same as that of a son for a father, nor that of a 
 husband for his wife the same as that of a wife for 
 her husband. For in each of these there is a different 
 virtue and a different function, and there are 
 different motives; hence the affections and friend- 
 ships are also different. It follows that the services 
 rendered by each party to the other in these friend- 
 ships are not the same, nor is it right to expect that 
 they shoTild be the same ; but when children render 
 to parents what is due to the authors of their being, 
 and parents to children what is due to them, then 
 such friendships are permanent and virtuous. 
 
 In aU such friendships as depend upon the 
 principle of superiority, the affection should be 
 proportionate to the superiority ; i.e. the better or 
 the more useful party, or whoever may be the 
 
CHAP. VIII.] OP AKISTOTLE. 261 
 
 superior, should receive more aiFection than he gives ; 
 for it is when the affection is proportionate to the 
 merit that a sort of equality is established, and this 
 equality seems to be a condition of friendship. 
 
 But it is apparently not the same with equality Chap.ix. 
 in justice as with equality in friendship. In justice it £'jj^*^ 
 is proportionate equality which is the first considera- j^^'^j^ 
 tion, and quantitative equality which is the second, or love. 
 but in friendship quantitative equality is first and 
 proportionate second. This is clearly seen to be the 
 case, if there be a wide distinction between two 
 persons in respect of virtue, vice, affluence, or any- 
 thing else. For persons so widely different cease to 
 be friends; they do not even affect to be friends. 
 But it is nowhere so conspicuous as in the case of the 
 Gods ; for the Gods enjoy the greatest superiority in 
 all good things. It is clear too in the case of kings ; 
 for people who are greatly inferior to them do not 
 expect to be their friends. Nor again do worthless 
 people expect to be the friends of the best or wisest 
 of mankind. No doubt in such cases it is impossible 
 to define exactly the point up to which friendship 
 may be carried ; it may suffer many deductions and 
 yet continue, but where there is a great distinction, 
 as between God and man, it ceases to be. 
 
 This is a fact which has given rise to the question 
 whether it is true that friends do really wish the 
 greatest good of their friends, e.g. whether they wish 
 them to be Gods; for then they will lose them as 
 friends, and will therefore lose what are goods, as 
 friends are goods. 
 
 That being so, if it has been rightly said that a 
 
262 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 friend wishes his friend's good for the friend's sake, 
 it will be necessary that the friend should remain 
 such as he is. He will wish his friend the greatest 
 good as a man. And yet perhaps he will not wish 
 him every good, as every one wishes good in the 
 highest sense to himself. 
 
 It seems that ambition makes most people wish to 
 be loved rather than to love others. That is the 
 reason why most people are fond of flatterers ; for a 
 flatterer is an inferior friend, or pretends to be so, 
 and to give more love than he receives. But to be 
 loved seems to approximate to being honoured, and 
 honour is a general object of desire. Not that 
 people, as it appears, desire honour for its own sake, 
 they desire it only accidentally ; for it is hope which 
 causes most people to delight in the honours paid 
 them by persons of high position, as they think they 
 will obtain from them whatever they may want, and 
 therefore delight in honour as a symbol of prosperity in 
 the future. But they who aspire to gain honour from 
 persons of high character and wide information are 
 eager to confirm their own opinion of themselves ; they 
 delight therefore in a sense of their own goodness, 
 having confidence in the judgment so expressed upon 
 it. But people delight in being loved for their own sake. 
 Hence it would seem to follow that it is better to be 
 loved than to be honoured, and that friendship or 
 love is desirable in itself. 
 Chap. X. But friendship seems to consist rather in loving 
 ^aaiefthan *^*^ ™^ hsmg loved. It may be seen to be so by the 
 being loved delight which mothers have in loving; for mothers 
 sometimes give their own children to be brought up 
 
CHAP. X.] OF ARISTOTLE. 263 
 
 by others, and although they know them and love toMend- 
 them, do not look for love in return, if it be ^ ^' 
 impossible both to love and to be loved, but are 
 content, as it seems, to see their children doing well, 
 and to give them their love, even if the children in 
 their ignorance do not render them any such service 
 as is a mother's due. 
 
 As friendship consists in loving rather than in 
 being loved, and people who are fond of their friends 
 receive praise, it is in some sense a virtue of friends 
 to love; hence where love is found in due proportion, 
 people are^rmanent friends, and their friendship is 
 permanent. 
 
 It is in this way that, even where people are 
 unequal, they may be friends, as they will be equalized. 
 But equality and similarity constitute friendship, 
 especially the similarity of the virtuous; for the 
 virtuous, being exempt from change in themselves, 
 remain unchanged also in relation to one another, 
 and neither ask others to do wrong nor do wrong 
 themselves to please others. It may even be said 
 that they prevent it ; for good people neither do 
 wrong themselves nor allow their friends to do it. 
 
 But there is no stability in vicious friends ; for 
 they do not remain like themselves, and if they 
 become friends it is only for a short time, and from 
 the gratification which they feel in each other's vice. 
 
 But if people are useful and pleasant to each 
 other, they remain friends for a longer time, i.e. they 
 remain friends so long as they afford each other 
 pleasure or assistance. 
 
 The friendship which is based upon utility seems 
 
264 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 more than any other to be an union of opposites. It 
 is e.g. such friendship as arises between a poor man 
 and a rich man, or between an ignorant man and a 
 well informed man; for if a man happens to be in 
 want of something, his desire to get it makes him 
 give something else in exchange. We may perhaps 
 include a lover and his beloved, or a beautiful man 
 and an ugly man, in this class of friends. It is thus 
 that lovers sometimes make themselves look ridiculous 
 by expecting to be loved as much as they love others. 
 Such an expectation would perhaps be reasonable if 
 they were equally lovable; but if there is nothing 
 lovable about them, it is ridiculous. It is true, I 
 think, that one opposite does not desire another in 
 itself, but desires it only accidentally. What it 
 really longs for is the mean, as the mean is a good. 
 Thus it is good for what is dry not to become wet, 
 but to arrive at the mean state, and similarly for 
 what is hot, and so on. 
 
 But we may dismiss these questions as being more 
 
 or less foreign to our present purpose. 
 
 Chap. XI. It appears, as has been said at the outset, that 
 
 Evfelfashi fri^^dship and justice have the same occasions and 
 
 or love the same sphere ; for every association seems to 
 
 an JUS ice. jjjyQjyg justice of somc kind, and friendshiji as well. 
 
 At all events we address our fellow-sailors and feUow- 
 
 soldiers, and similarly the members of any other 
 
 association to which we belong, as friends. The 
 
 friendship too is coextensive with the association, for 
 
 so also is the justice. The proverbial saying, "Friends' 
 
 goods are common goods" is right, as friendship 
 
 depends upon association. 
 
CHAP. XI.] OF AHISTOTLE. 265 
 
 Brothers and comrades have all things in common. 
 Other people have certain definite things in common, 
 some more, some fewer; for some friendships go 
 further than others. Justice too is of difierent kinds ; 
 it is not the same in the relation of parents to 
 children as in that of brothers to each other, or in 
 that of comrades and fellow citizens to each other, 
 and similarly in other friendships. Injustice too 
 assumes various forms in relation to these several 
 classes. It is aggravating, if the friends whom it 
 affects are nearer to each other. Thus it is a more 
 dreadful thing to defraud a comrade of money than 
 to defraud a fellow citizen, or to refuse help to a 
 brother than to a stranger, or to assault a father than 
 any body else. 
 
 Justice itself too naturally grows as friendship 
 grows ; for they have the same sphere and are equally 
 extensive. 
 
 All associations are, as it were, parts of the Political 
 political association ; for when people take a journey tfon"* 
 together, it is from motives of interest and for the 
 sake of gaining something that their life requires. 
 It seems too that interest was the motive with which 
 the political association was originally formed, and 
 with which it is continued ; for this is the goal which 
 legislators have in view, and they describe the 
 interest of the community as just. 
 
 Now aU other associations aim at some particular Different 
 interest or success. Thus sailors aim at a successful 00!^"^'"^^ 
 voyage in the hope of making money or something of |P»"^to 
 the kind, fellow-soldiers in an army at a successfiil assoda- 
 campaign, whether it be spoil or victory or the 
 
266 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 capture of a city that is their aim, and it is much the 
 same with members of a tribe or township. It seems 
 too that some associations are formed on a basis of 
 pleasure, as when people associate for a fete or a 
 picnic; for there the object is sacrifice* and good 
 fellowship. But these are all, as it were, subordi- 
 : nate to the political association ; for the aim of the 
 political association is the interest not of the moment 
 but of all a life-time, in the sacrifices which people 
 make and the meetings which they hold in connexion 
 with the sacrifices, in the honours which they pay to 
 the gods, and the pleasure and relaxation which they 
 provide for themselves. For it appears that the 
 ancient sacrifices and meetings take place after the 
 ingathering of the fruits of the earth, e.g. the festival 
 of the first-fruits, these having been the seasons of 
 the greatest leisure. 
 
 It appears then that all these associations are 
 
 parts of the political association, and the proper 
 
 friendships will correspond to the associations. 
 
 Chap. xh. There are three kinds of polity and an equal 
 
 Three number of perversions, or in other words corruptions, 
 
 polity. of these three kinds. The polities are kingship, 
 
 aristocracy, and a third depending upon a property 
 
 qualification, which it seems proper to describe as 
 
 timocratic, but it is usually designated as a polity in 
 
 the limited sense. Of these, kingship is the best and 
 
 timocracy the worst. 
 
 The perversion of kingship is tyranny, both being 
 monarchies although they are widely different, as the 
 
 1 The connexion of festivity with religion is eminently charac- 
 teristic of Greek thought. 
 
CHAP. XII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 267 
 
 • 
 
 tyrant considers his own interest, and the king 
 the interest of his subjects ; for a king is not a Kingship. 
 king unless he is self-sufficient and superior to his 
 subjects in all that is good ; but if he is such, there is 
 nothing more that he needs. Hence he will consider 
 not his own interest but the interest of his subjects ; 
 for if he were not a king after this fashion, he would 
 be a sort of king of the ballots 
 
 Tyranny is the opposite of kingship, as it pursues Tyianny. 
 the good of th6 tyrant himself. It is clear that 
 Mngship is the best form of polity; hut it is still 
 clearer that tyranny is the worst. The opposite of 
 the best is always worst. 
 
 A polity changes from kingship to tyranny ; for Transfor- 
 
 j . . . J. » 1 4 J • _i matiou of 
 
 tyranny is a vicious form of monarchy. Accordingly pouties. 
 the vicious king becomes a tyrant. Sd^'"^ 
 
 An aristocracy is converted into an oligarchy tyranny. 
 through the fault of the ruling class who make an cracy^and 
 unfair distribution of political honours, who reserve "^g^^^y- 
 all or nearly all the good things for themselves, and 
 who keep the offices of state continually in the same 
 hands, from the inordinate value that they set upon 
 wealth. The result is that it is only a few people 
 who hold office, and they are not the most virtuous, 
 but wicked people. 
 
 A timocracy is converted into a democracy ; for Timocracy 
 they border closely upon each other, as timocracy cracy.™'° 
 professes to have a democratic character, and all who 
 possess the requisite property qualification are equals 
 in a timocracy. 
 
 1 The King-Archon (Spxav ^aa-ikevs) at Athens, when all 
 officers of state were appointed by ballot, might be so called. 
 
268 
 
 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOIC VIII. 
 
 Domestic 
 associa- 
 tions. 
 
 and glare. 
 
 Of the perversions democracy is the least vicious, 
 as it departs but slightly from the character of the 
 polity. 
 
 These are the ways in which poMties are most 
 easily transferred; for these are the least violent 
 transformations. 
 
 It is possible to discover models, and so to say 
 patterns, of these constitutions in households. For 
 
 (1) Father the association of a father with his sons takes 
 dren?*"' the form of a kingship, as a father cares for his 
 
 children. It is this care which makes Homer speak 
 of Zeus as "father;" for kingship purports to be a 
 parental rule. But in Persia the rule of the father is 
 tyrannical; for there parents treat their sons as 
 
 (2) Master slaves. The association of master and slave is also 
 tyrannical, as it is the master's interest which is 
 realized in it. Now the rule of a slave-master seems 
 to be a right' form of tyranny, but the rule of a 
 father in Persia seems to be a perverted form, as 
 different people require to be ruled in different ways. 
 
 The association of husband and wife seems to be 
 aristocratical ; for the husband's rule depends upon 
 merit, and is confined to its proper sphere. He 
 assigns to the wife all that suitably belongs to her. 
 If the husband is lord of everything, he changes the 
 association to an oligarchy ; for then he acts unfairly, 
 and not in virtue of his superior merit. 
 
 Sometimes again the wife rules, as being an heiress. 
 Such rule is not based upon merit, but depends upon 
 wealth or power as in oligarchies. 
 
 1 Aristotle believes in a natural class of slaves. Op. Politics 
 i. ch. 5. 
 
 (3) Hus- 
 band and 
 wife. 
 
CHAP. XII.J OF ARISTOTLE. 269 
 
 The association of brothers resembles a timocracy ; (4) Bro- 
 for they are equals except so far as they differ in sisters. 
 years ; hence if the difference of years is very great, 
 the friendship ceases to be fraternal. 
 
 A democracy is chiefly found in such households 
 as have no master, where everybody is equal to 
 everybody else, or where the head of the house is 
 weak, and everybody can do as he chooses, 
 
 Now it appears that there is a friendship or love CHAP.xrn. 
 which is proper to each of these several polities in g^pg ' 
 the same degree as there is a justice proper to each. ^™f^„i°r 
 
 The friendship or love of a king to his subjects polities. 
 takes the form of superiority in benefaction. He 
 treats his subjects well, as being good, and as caring 
 for their welfare, like a shepherd for the welfare of 
 his flock, whence Homer called Agamemnon "shep- 
 herd of the folk." 
 
 The love of a father for his child is similar in 
 character, although it differs in the magnitude of the 
 benefactions ; for a father is the author of the child's 
 existence, which seems to be the greatest of all bene- 
 factions, as well as of his nurture and education. 
 These benefactions are ascribed also to ancestors, and 
 it is Nature's law that a father should rule his sons, 
 and ancestors their descendants, and a king his 
 subjects. 
 
 These friendships imply superiority ; hence parents 
 are not only loved but honoured, as being superiors. 
 Justice therefore in these cases implies not identical 
 but proportionate treatment ; for so too does friend- 
 ship. 
 
 The friendship or love of husband and wife is the 
 
270 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 same as exists in an aristocracy ; for it depends upon 
 virtue. The better party gets the greater good, and 
 each gets what befits him or her, but this is equally 
 the rule of justice. 
 
 The friendship of brothers is like the friendship of 
 comrades ; for they are equals and are persons of the 
 same age, and when this is the case, people are 
 generally alike in their feelings and characters. We 
 may compare with this the friendship or love which 
 is characteristic of a timocracy ; for in a timocracy 
 the citizens profess to be equal and virtuous ; hence 
 they hold office in turn and upon a principle of 
 equality, and accordingly their friendship follows the 
 same law. 
 
 But in the perverted forms of polity justice does 
 not go far, neither does friendship, and nowhere is 
 its range so limited as in the worst of them. Friend- 
 ship does not exist, or hardly exists, in a tyranny ; for 
 where there is nothing in common between ruler and 
 subject, there cannot be friendship between them, as 
 there cannot be justice either. The relation is like that 
 of an artisan to a tool, or of soul to body, or of master 
 to servant ; for although all these are benefitted by 
 the people who use them, there is no possibility of 
 friendship or justice in the relation in which we stand 
 to inanimate things nor indeed in our relation to a 
 horse or an ox or to a slave qv/i slave. For there is 
 nothing in common between a master and his slave ; 
 the slave is an animate instrument, and the instru- 
 ment an inanimate slave. It is impossible therefore 
 to be friends with a slave qua slave, but not with a 
 slave qua man, for there would seem to be a possi- 
 
CHAP. XIV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 271 
 
 bility of justice between every man and any one who 
 is capable of participation in law and covenant, and 
 therefore in friendship, in so far as he is man. 
 
 Friendships therefore and justice exist only to a 
 slight extent in tyrannies and have only a narrow 
 range. Their range is widest in democracies, as it 
 is when people are equals that they have most in 
 common. 
 
 All friendship then, as has been said, implies Chap.xiv. 
 association. Still it is proper to distinguish the ^g^°^^^'°t" 
 friendship of kinsmen and comrades from other friendship 
 
 or lov6 
 
 friendships. The friendships of fellow-citizens, fellow- gpeciai 
 tribesmen, feUow-saUors and the Uke, have a greater friendship 
 
 . . , or love of 
 
 resemblance to friendships of association, as they kinsmen 
 appear to be based on a sort of compact. We may rades?™ 
 rank the friendship of hospitality with these. 
 
 The friendship of kinsmen too appears to be of 
 various kinds, but to depend altogether upon the 
 friendship or love of a parent for his child ; for Parental 
 parents feel aflFection for their children as being a^ve. 
 part of themselves, and children for their parents as 
 the source of their being. But parents know their 
 oflfepring better than the children know that they are 
 sprung from them, and the author of another's being 
 is more closely united to his offspring than the off- 
 spring to the parent ; for that which proceeds from a 
 person belongs to that from which it proceeds, as a 
 tooth or a hair or anything to its possessor ; but that 
 from which a thing proceeds does not belong to that 
 which proceeds from it, or does not belong to it in 
 the same degree. There is a difference too in respect 
 of time; for parents love their children as soon as 
 
love, 
 
 272 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 they are born, but children do not love their parents 
 until they are advanced in years and have gained 
 intelligence or sense. It is evident from these con- 
 siderations why mothers love their children more 
 than fathers. 
 
 Parents then love children as themselves ; for their 
 offspring are like second selves — second, only in the 
 sense of being separated— and children love parents, 
 Fraternal as being bom of them, and brothers one another, as 
 being born of the same parents. For the identity of 
 the children with their parents constitutes an identity 
 between the children themselves. Hence we use such 
 phrases as "the same blood" "the same stock" and so 
 on, in speaking of brothers and sisters. They are 
 therefore in a sense the same, although they are 
 separate beings. It is a great help to friendship for 
 people to have been brought up together, and to be 
 of the same age ; for "two of the same age agree," 
 as the proverb says, and intimate friends become 
 comrades ; hence the friendship of brothers comes to 
 resemble the friendship of comrades'. 
 
 But cousins and all other kinsmen have the same 
 bond of union to each other, as springing from the 
 same source; they are more or less closely united 
 according as their first ancestor is near or remote. 
 
 The friendship or love of children for parents, and 
 of men for the Gods, may be said to be love for what 
 is good and higher than themselves ; for parents are 
 
 1 It is an instance of the part which comradeship or camara- 
 derie played in Greek life that the mutual love of two brothers 
 should be assimilated to the mutual love of two comrades. 
 
CHAP. XIV.J OF ARISTOTLE. 273 
 
 the authors of the greatest benefit to children, as to 
 them children owe their existence and nurture and 
 education from the day of their birth. 
 
 There is more pleasure and utility in such a 
 friendship than in the friendship of strangers, as 
 their life has more in common. 
 
 The characteristics of friendship among brothers 
 are the same as among comrades; they are intensi- 
 fied when the brothers are yirtuous, but they exist 
 always in consequence of their likeness, inasmuch as 
 brothers are more nearly related to each other than 
 conu-ades and naturally love one another from birth, 
 and as there is a greater similarity of character among 
 people who are children of the same parents and are 
 brought up together, and receive a similar education, 
 nor is there any test so strong and sure as that of 
 time. 
 
 The elements of love among other kinsmen are 
 proportionate to the nearness of their kinship. 
 
 But the love of husband and wife seems to be a Love of 
 natural law, as man is naturally more inclined to and w&e. 
 contract a marriage than to constitute a state, inas- 
 much as a house is prior to a state, and more neces- 
 sary than a state, and the procreation of children is 
 the more universal function of animals. 
 
 In the case of other animals this is the limit of 
 their association ; but men unite not only for the 
 procreation of children but for the purposes of life. 
 As soon as a man and a woman unite, a distribution 
 of functions takes place. Some are proper to the 
 husband and others to the wife; hence they supply 
 one another's needs, each contributing his special 
 
 W. N. E. 18 
 
274 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 gifts to the common stock. It is thus that utility and 
 pleasure seem alike to be found in this friendship; 
 but its basis will be virtue too, if the husband and 
 wife are virtuous, as each of them has his or her 
 proper virtue, and they will both delight in what is 
 virtuous. 
 
 It seems too that children are a bond of union 
 between them ; hence such marriages as are childless 
 are more easily dissolved, as children are the common 
 blessing of both parents, and such community of 
 interest is the bond of union between them. 
 
 To ask how husband and wife and friends in 
 general should live together, is, it appears, nothing 
 else than to ask how it is just for them to live ; for 
 justice is clearly not the same thing between one 
 friend and another as towards a stranger or a com- 
 rade or a fellow-traveller. 
 Chap. XV. There are three kinds of friendship, as has been 
 HMs of' ^^^^ ^* *^^ outset, and in each of them the friendship 
 friendship may be constituted upon terms either of equality or of 
 p. 250. superiority and inferiority; for people who are equals 
 in goodness may become friends, or a better person 
 may become the friend of a worse, and it is the same 
 with pleasant people, and with people whose friend- 
 ship rests upon utility, as their services may be either 
 equal or diflferent. It is proper then that those who 
 are equals should show themselves equal by an equality 
 of love and of everything else, and those who are 
 unequal by such a feeling to others as is proportionate 
 to the superiority of each. 
 Complaints Complaints and bickerings occur either exclu- 
 Sgg^g''^''" sively or most frequently in a friendship which 
 
CHAP. XV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 275 
 
 depends upon utility, and it is reasonable that this ^*'^i'i?g 
 should be so. For where the basis of friendship is 
 virtue, friends are eager to do good to one another 
 as a mark of Tirtue and friendship. Where their 
 rivalry takes this form, there is no room for accu- 
 sations or bickerings ; for nobody takes it ill that a 
 person loves him and treats him well; on the con- 
 trary, if he is a man of good feeling, he requites a 
 kindness. Nor will the superior person find fault 
 with his friend, as he obtains his desire ; for in such 
 a friendship each of the friends desires the other's 
 good. 
 
 Again, such quarrelling hardly ever arises in a 
 friendship of which pleasure is the motive ; for both 
 parties get what they long for, if it is their great 
 pleasure to live together. But one of them would 
 make himself ridiculous if he were to complain of the 
 other for not giving him pleasure, when he might 
 leave off living in his company. 
 
 It is such friendship as is based upon utility that 
 gives rise to complaints; for as the parties in their 
 dealings with each other have an eye to profit, each 
 of them always wants the larger share, and imagines 
 himself to possess less than is his due, and complains 
 of not obtaining all that he requires and deserves, 
 when it is impossible for the benefactor to supply all 
 that the recipient of the benefaction requires. 
 
 It seems that, as justice is twofold, being partly 
 unwritten and partly embodied in law, the friendship Moral and 
 which depends upon utility is either moral or legal, bfend- 
 i.e. is based either upon character or upon convention, ^'p- 
 Complaiuts then occur most frequently, if the terms 
 
 18—2 
 
276 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 of friendship are not the same when it is dissolved as 
 Eeqniiai when it is formed. By legal friendship I mean such 
 tions. as is formed on stated conditions, whether it be 
 absolutely commercial, demanding cash payments, or 
 more liberal in respect of time but still requiring a 
 certain covenanted quid pro quo. In this friendship 
 the debt is clear and indisputable, but the delay of 
 which it admits is an element of friendliness. Accord- 
 ingly some states do not recognise actions for debt. 
 It is held that, if people have made a contract which 
 presupposes good faith on both sides, they must take 
 the consequences of making it. Moral friendship, 
 on the other hand, has no stated conditions. If a gift 
 or any other favour is bestowed upon a person, it is 
 bestowed upon him as a friend ; but the giver expects^ 
 to receive as much or more in return, regarding it 
 not as a gift but as a loan. If he does not come out 
 of the contract as well off as he was when he entered 
 into it, he will complain. The reason of his complaint 
 is that, although all people, or nearly all people, wish 
 what is noble, they choose what is profitable, and it is 
 noble to do good without expecting a return, but it is 
 profitable to receive a benefaction. 
 
 If a man has the power, it is his duty to return 
 the full value of the services rendered to him, and to 
 return it voluntarily ; for it is wrong to make a person 
 a friend against his will. If the will is lacking, then 
 we must suppose that we made a mistake in the first 
 instance, and were the recipients of a benefaction 
 from the wrong person i.e. not from a friend or some 
 one who meant to confer it ; we must therefore dis- 
 solve the friendship, as if the service had been done 
 
CHAP. XV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 277 
 
 US on certain stated terms of repayment. In stipu- 
 lating to make the payment we must assume that it 
 will be in our power to make it ; for if it is not, the 
 giver himself would not have expected to be repaid. 
 We must pay therefore, if we have the power, but 
 not otherwise. But it is our duty to consider in the 
 &st instance who it is that is benefitted and what 
 are the terms of the benefaction, that so we may 
 agree to accept it or not. 
 
 It may be questioned whether the return is to be 
 measured by the benefit conferred upon the recipient, 
 and should be made proportionate to it, or should be 
 measured by the benevolent intention of the bene- 
 factor. For the recipients of a benefaction often 
 adopt a depreciatory tone, pretending to have received 
 from their benefactors services which did not cost the 
 benefactors much, or which might have been done 
 them by others. The benefactors, on the contrary, 
 urge that the services were the greatest which it was 
 in their power to render and such as could not have 
 been rendered by others, and that they were rendered 
 at a time of peril or some such urgent need. 
 
 If then the basis of the friendship be utility, it 
 would seem that the benefit done to the recipient is 
 the true measure of repayment ; for it is the recipient 
 who asks for the boon, and the benefactor assists him 
 in the hope of receiving an equivalent. The service 
 done then has been commensurate with the bene- 
 faction received ; hence it is the duty of the recipient 
 to repay the amount of his advance or even more, as 
 this is the nobler course. 
 
 But in such friendships as depend on virtue there 
 
278 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK VIII. 
 
 is no room for complaints ; it is the moral purpose of 
 the benefactor which is, as it were, the measure of 
 repayment, for it is the moral purpose which deter- 
 mines virtue or character. 
 Chap. XVI. Differences occur also in the friendships in which 
 foieiS* oJi® party is superior to the other, for in such friend- 
 ships, ships each party claims a larger share, and when he 
 gets it, the friendship is dissolved. The better of the 
 two friends thinks a larger share is his due, as a 
 larger share is a due of the good. So too does the 
 more helpful, as it is admitted that, if a person is 
 useless, he ought not to have so much as one who is 
 of use. The friendship (he says) ceases to be friend- 
 ship and becomes mere public service, if the proceeds 
 of the friendship are not proportionate to the works 
 of the friends ; for people suppose, that as in a com- 
 mercial association the larger contributors are the 
 larger recipients, so it ought to be in friendship. 
 
 The needy or inferior person takes an opposite 
 view. He argues that it is the part of a good friend 
 to assist the needy ; for what (he says) is the good of 
 being the friend of a virtuous or powerful person, if 
 one is to derive no benefit from it? 
 
 It would seem that each is justified in his claim, 
 and that each ought to receive a larger share as the 
 result of the friendship, but not a larger share of the 
 same things. The superior person ought to receive 
 a larger share of honour, and the needy person a 
 larger share of profit, as honour is the reward of 
 virtue and beneficence, and money is the means of 
 relieving distress. 
 
 It appears that the same law holds good in poll- 
 
CHAP. XVI.] , OP AHISTOTLE. 279 
 
 tics. No honour is paid to the person who renders 
 no service to the state ; for that which the state has to 
 give is commonly given to the benefactor of the state, 
 and honour is that which the state has to give. For 
 it is impossible for a person at one and the same time 
 to make money out of the community, and to receive 
 honour from it, as nobody wiU submit to inferiority 
 in all respects. We pay honour then to one who 
 suffers pecuniary loss by holding oflBce, and we give 
 money to one who is eager for a salary ; for it is the 
 principle of proportion which effects equality andp. 26i. 
 preserves friendship, as has been said. 
 
 This then is the true principle of association 
 among unequals. If a person is benefitted by another 
 in purse or character, he must repay him in honour, 
 as this is the repayment which it is in his power to 
 make. For friendship looks for what is possible, not 
 for what is proportionate or due to the merit of the 
 friend; for there are cases where a due return is out 
 of the question, as in the honours paid to the Gods 
 and to parents. In such cases while nobody could 
 ever make a due return, a person is considered to be 
 virtuous, if he pays such regard as lies within his 
 power. Hence it may be held that a son has no 
 right to disown his father, although a fether may 
 disown his son; for the son is a debtor, and must 
 repay his debt, and as, whatever he does, it is not 
 adequate to his obligation, he is a perpetual debtor. 
 But the creditor may dismiss his debtor, and if so, 
 then a father may dismiss his son. At the same 
 time it seems, I think, that nobody would ever desert 
 a son unless he were extraordinarily vicious; for 
 
280 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OE AEISTOTLE. [bK. VIII. 
 
 apart from the natural affection of father and son, it 
 is human nature not to reject such support as his son 
 may afford him in old age. But the son, if he is 
 vicious, will look upon the duty of assisting his 
 father as one which he should avoid, or at all events 
 not eagerly embrace ; for the world in general wishes 
 to receive benefits, but avoids the apparently unprofit- 
 able task of conferring them. 
 
BOOK IX. 
 
 This may be regarded as a sufficient discussion of Chap. i. 
 these questions. But in all heterogeneous' friendships ^eous"^* 
 it is the principle of proportion, as has been said, frfendsHps. 
 which equalizes and preserves the friendship. It is ^' ^' ' 
 so in the political friendship or association, where a 
 cobbler gets due value in exchange for his shoe, and 
 so does the weaver and any other tradesman. In 
 this case a common measure has been provided by 
 the currency to which everything is referred, and by 
 which everything is measured. But in the friendship 
 of love it happens that the lover sometimes complains 
 that, when he is passionately in love, his love is not 
 returned, although it may be there is nothing lovable 
 in him, or that the object of love complains, as often 
 happens, that his lover was once lavish in his promises 
 and now does not perform any of them. 
 
 Such cases occur because pleasure is the motive 
 
 ^ By "heterogeneous friendships," as the context shows, 
 Aristotle means such friendships as that of a lover and his 
 beloved, in which the parties, although they seek some pleasure 
 or profit each from the other, do not seek the same pleasm-e 
 or profit. 
 
282 THE nicomacheAjST ethics [book IX. 
 
 of the affection which the lover feels for the object of 
 his love, and utility the motive of the affection which 
 the other feels for his lover, and they do not both 
 reaUze their desires. For when these are the motives 
 of friendship, it is dissolved as soon as the expecta- 
 tions which induced the love are disappointed ; for it 
 was not the persons themselves, but their possessions, 
 that inspired the affection, and, as the possessions are 
 not permanent, neither are the friendships. But a 
 friendship which is a friendship of character exists 
 p. 252. pf'T se, and is permanent, as has been said. 
 Cause of Again, differences arise between friends when one 
 
 aiSkig""^^ gets from the other something that is not what he 
 friends" desires ; for it is like getting nothing at all, when a 
 person does not get what he wants. For instance, 
 there was once a person who promised a present to a 
 harpist, and promised that the better he played, the 
 larger should be his reward ; but next day when the 
 harpist asked him to fulfil his promises, he said he 
 had given him one pleasure' in payment for another. 
 Now if this were what both wished for, it would be 
 satisfactory ; but if the one wished for pleasure and 
 the other for gain, and if the one has his wish and 
 the other has not, the agreement between them will 
 not be rightly carried out; for it is what a person 
 happens to want that he sets his heart upon, and to 
 get this, but nothing else, will he give the price. 
 Value of a But It may be asked. Who is the proper person to 
 ^^■taw settle the value of a benefaction ? Is it he who was 
 
 ' The pleasure which the harpist had received must be the 
 pleasure of anticipating payment. 
 
CHAP. I. J OF ARISTOTLE. 283 
 
 in the first instance the author, or he who was in the 
 first instance the recipient of the benefaction? lt°^^7 
 seems as if the author leaves it to the recipient to settiea. 
 settle the value. This, they say, was the practice 
 of Protagoras, who, whenever he taught any subject, 
 would tell his pupils to estimate the value of the 
 knowledge in their own eyes, and would take just so 
 much payment and no more. 
 
 In such cases some people like the principle of " a 
 stated wage"^; but if a person first takes his fee, and 
 then does not fulfil any of his promises, because he has 
 promised a great deal more than he can perform, it 
 is reasonable to censure him for not carrying out his 
 professions. The practice of taking payment in 
 advance is probably forced upon the sophists, as 
 otherwise nobody would pay them a fee for the 
 knowledge which they impart. Such people then lie 
 open to reasonable censure, if they do not do the work 
 for which they receive payment. But it may happen 
 that there is no distinct agreement as to the service 
 rendered. Suppose A confers a benefaction upon JB 
 for B's own sake^ then A, as has been said, is not p. 252. 
 open to censure, as this is the character of a virtuous 
 fiiendship. The return made must be such as corre- 
 sponds to the moral purpose of the benefactor, as it 
 is the moral purpose which constitutes a friend, or 
 
 ^ The words iuitBos 8' avhpi are taken from a line of Hesiod 
 which makes their meaning plain, 
 
 liurdos S" dvSpl (j>iK<o clprnievos apKios earto. 
 
 'Epya Kal 'Hfupai 368. 
 2 Beading St avniis. 
 
284 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 constitutes virtue. It seems that the same principle 
 would apply to people who have been engaged as 
 master and pupil in philosophy. The value of philo- 
 sophical teaching cannot be measured in money, nor 
 can an equivalent price be found for it. We must, I 
 think, be content if here, as in the worship of the 
 Gods or the respect shown to parents, we make such 
 return as is in our power. Suppose on the other 
 hand the gift is not disinterested, but is made on the 
 fixed condition of some return, it is, I think, right, if 
 it be possible, that the return made should be such 
 as in the eyes of both parties is proportionate to the 
 value of the gift, or, if this is impossible, it would 
 seem to be not only necessary but just that it should 
 be fixed by the original recipient. For whatever was 
 the amount of benefit which the recipient obtained, 
 or the amount which he would have paid for the 
 pleasure, the original benefactor, if he gets that 
 amount in return, will have his due value from the 
 recipient ; for this is clearly what takes place in the 
 market, and in some states there are laws prohibiting 
 such actions as arise out of voluntary contracts, on 
 the ground that if a person has once trusted another 
 he ought to conclude his contract with him in the 
 same spirit in which he originally made it. The idea 
 is that he who received credit has a better right to 
 settle the value of the service done than he who gave 
 it ; for as a rule people who possess a thing do not 
 set the same value on it as people who wish to 
 acquire it, as we always look upon the things which 
 we call our own and which we give away as being 
 exceedingly valuable. Nevertheless the amount of 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 285 
 
 the exchange must be regulated by the value which 
 the recipient sets upon the gifts received. Still 
 perhaps it ought not to be fixed at the value which 
 he sets upon it when it is in his hands, but at the 
 value which he set upon it before he had it. 
 
 There are still certain questions which present a CnAp.n. 
 difficulty. For instance. Is the respect and obedience Q^estioi^ 
 
 „ , ,. . , of casuistry 
 
 due to a father unhmited ? or ought a person, if he is relating to 
 ill, to obey a physician, and ought he to vote for the "*" ^ ^' 
 best soldier rather than for his father as general? 
 Similarly, ought he to serve a friend rather than a 
 virtuous man, and to repay a debt to a benefactor 
 rather than make a present to a comrade, if he cannot 
 do both ? 
 
 It is difficult perhaps to decide all such questions 
 precisely, as the cases may vary indefinitely in im- 
 portance or dignity or urgency. But it is evident at 
 once that no one person can be entitled to unlimited 
 respect As a general rule, it is a duty to repay 
 services which have been done to us rather than to 
 confer favours on our comrades. We must behave as 
 if we had incurred a debt, and must pay our creditors 
 in preference to making a present to our comrade. 
 But even this rule is possibly open to exceptions. 
 Suppose e.g. a person has been ransomed from the 
 hands of brigands; is it his duty to ransom his 
 ransomer in turn, whoever he may be, or to repay 
 him, even if he has not been taken prisoner, when he 
 claims repayment ? or is it his duty rather to ransom 
 his own father ? It would seem that he ought rather 
 to ransom his father. 
 
 The general rule then, as has been said, is that 
 
286 THE HICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 the repayment of our debt is a duty, but that if the 
 honour, or urgent need, of making a present out- 
 weighs it, we must decide in favour of making the 
 present rather than of repaying the debt. For it 
 sometimes happens that there is an actual unfairness 
 in requiting the original service, when A has done a 
 service to B, knowing him to be virtuous, and B is 
 called to repay A, whom he believes to be a rascal. 
 For there are times when it is actually not right to 
 do so much as lend money in return to one who has 
 lent money to us. For it may happen that A lent 
 money to ^, who is an honest man, expecting to get 
 it back again, but that B knows A to be vicious, and 
 therefore does not expect to get his money back. If 
 then this be the true state of the case, the claim 
 which A makes for a loan in return is not an equal 
 or fair claim ; or if this is not the true state of the 
 case, but the parties think it to be so, his conduct 
 could not be called unreasonable, 
 pp. 3, 37. We can only repeat then the remark, which has 
 
 been made several times before, viz. that arguments 
 relating to human emotions and human actions, admit 
 of a neither greater nor less precision than the 
 subjects with which they deal. 
 Different ^ J® clear cuough then that all people cannot 
 
 de™ees of "s'^^^y claim the same respect, nor can a father claim 
 respect an unlimited respect, as Zeus himself does not receive 
 to different unlimited sacrifices. But as the claims of iparents, 
 persons, brothers, comrades, and benefactors are all different, 
 it is our duty to render to each class of people such 
 respect as is natural and appropriate to them. This 
 is in fact the principle upon which we seem to act : 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 287 
 
 for we invite our relations to a wedding, as they 
 are concerned in the family, and therefore in all 
 events of famOy interest, and we look upon relations 
 for the same reason as having the best right to meet 
 at funerals in the family. 
 
 It wotdd seem to be an especial duty to afford Duty of 
 
 /.,. . . supporting 
 
 our parents the means of living, as we owe it to them, and hon- 
 and as it is more honourable to afford this kind of p^fs. 
 support to the authors of our beiag than to ourselves. 
 It is a duty too to pay honour to parents, as to the 
 Gods, but not to pay it indiscriminately. The same 
 honour is not due to a father as to a mother, nor 
 again is the same honour due to them as to a 
 philosopher or a general, but the honour of a father 
 or a mother, as the case may be. Again, it is a duty 
 to pay our elders such honour as is due to their age, 
 by rising to greet them, or by giving them the place 
 of honour at the table and so on. To our comrades 
 and brothers on the other hand we should speak our 
 mind frankly, and give them a share of everything 
 that belongs to us. Again, in our relation to our 
 kinsfolk, our fellow-tribesmen, our fellow-citizens, 
 and all other people, we should do our best to render 
 them their due, and to estimate their claims by 
 considering the nearness of their connexion with us, 
 and their character, or the services they have done 
 us. It is comparatively easy to make such an esti- 
 mate where people belong to the same class, but it is 
 more troublesome where they belong to different 
 classes. Still this is not a reason for giving up the 
 attempt, we must make such a distinction as is 
 possible. 
 
288 THE NICOMAOHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 Chap. III. Another question which presents a difficulty is 
 SfS"" whether we ought, or ought not, to dissolve friend- 
 ^'^'P- ships with people whose character is no longer what 
 
 it once was. 
 
 It appears that, if the motive of the friendship was 
 utility or pleasure, then when the utility or the 
 pleasure comes to an end, there is nothing unreason- 
 able in dissolving the friendship. For it was the 
 utility or the pleasure that we loved, and when they 
 have ceased to exist, it is only reasonable that our 
 love should come to an end. But there would be 
 ground for complaint, if a person, whose affection was 
 due to utility or pleasure, pretended that it was due 
 p. 250. to character. For as we said at the outset, differences 
 arise between friends most frequently when the actual 
 reason of the friendship is not the same as they 
 suppose it to be. 
 
 ISTow if a person A deceives himself into imagining 
 that it is his character which wins him ^'s affection, 
 although there is nothing in 5's conduct which 
 warrants such an idea, he has only himself to blame ; 
 but if he is imposed upon by ^'s pretence, he has 
 a right to complain of him as an impostor and to 
 complain of him still more strongly than of a person 
 who utters counterfeit coin, inasmuch as the felony 
 affects what is more precious than a mere pecuniary 
 interest. 
 
 Bvt there is this fwrther question. If we admit a 
 person to our friendship, believing him to be a good 
 man, and he turns out and is seen to be a rascal, is it 
 still our duty to love him? But love, it may be 
 answered, is an impossibility, as it is not everything. 
 
CHAP. III.] OF ARISTOTLE. 289 
 
 but only the good that is lovable. A wicked person 
 is not lovable, nor ought he to be loved ; for it is not 
 right for us to be lovers of the wicked, or to make 
 ourselves like bad men ; but it has been already said p- 247. 
 that like loves like. 
 
 Is it right in such circumstances to dissolve a 
 friendship at once? Perhaps not in all cases, but 
 only where the vice is incurable. If there is a 
 possibility of reforming the fiiend who has gone 
 wrong, it is a duty to help him in respect of his 
 character even more than in respect of his property, 
 inasmuch as character is a better thing than property, 
 and enters more closely into friendship. It would be 
 admitted that, if a person dissolves a friendship in 
 these circmnstances, his action is not at all unreason- 
 able. He was not a friend of the person as that 
 person is now, and therefore if his friend has been 
 metamorphosed, and it is impossible to restore him, 
 he abandons the friendship. 
 
 Again, suppose A retains his original character, 
 and B becomes more moral or vastly superior to 4 in 
 virtue ; is it right for B to treat A as a friend ? It is 
 impossible, I think, for him to treat him so. The 
 case becomes clearest, if there is a wide discrepancy 
 between the two friends. It may happen so in the 
 friendships of boyhood; for if one of two friends 
 remains a boy in mind, and the other is a fidly 
 developed man, how can they be friends, if they do 
 not sympathise with each other in their tastes or in 
 their pleasures and pains ? There will be no personal 
 sympathy between them, and without sympathy it is p. 257. 
 impossible, as we saw, to be friends, as it is impossible 
 
 W. N. E. 19 
 
290 THE NICOMACHEAJSr ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 for two people to live together. But this is a point 
 which has been already discussed. 
 
 Is it right then, wMn two frisnds cease to he 
 sympathetic, for one to treat the other as not being 
 in any sense more an alien than if he had never 
 become a friend? The answer seems to be that we 
 must not forget the old intimacy, but as we think it a 
 duty to gratify fiiends rather than strangers, so we 
 ought to show some consideration for old friends in 
 virtue of the past friendship, provided that the dissolu- 
 tion of friendship is not due to some extraordinary vice. 
 Chap. IV. The origin of friendly relations to our friends and 
 Love of of ti^e characteristic marks of friendship seems to lie 
 
 fnenda an '^ 
 
 expansion in our relation to ourselves. For a friend may be 
 ■ defined as one who wishes and does what is good, or 
 what seems to be good, to another for the other's 
 sake, or who wishes the existence and life of his 
 friend for the friend's sake. This is the feeling of 
 mothers towards their children, and of friends who 
 have had a quarrel towards each other. Or again, a 
 friend may be defined as one who lives with another 
 and shares his desires, or as one who sympathises 
 with another in his sorrows and joys, as is pre- 
 eminently the case with mothers in relation to their 
 children. But it is one or the other of these 
 characteristics which constitutes the definition of 
 friendship. They are all found in the relation of the 
 virtuous man to himself, and in the relation of other 
 men to themselves, in so far as they affect to be good. 
 
 p. 72. For it seems, as has been said, that virtue and the 
 virtuous man are the measure of everything ; for the 
 virtuous man is at unity with himself, and desires 
 
CHAP. IV.J OF AEISTOTLE. 291 
 
 the same things with his whole heart. He therefore 
 wishes what is good or what appears to be good for 
 himself, and effects it, as a good man natm-ally carries 
 out what is good, and he does so for his own sake, 
 i.e. for the sake of the intellectual part of his nature, 
 which seems to be in every man his true self. Also 
 he wishes his own life and preservation, and especially 
 the life and preservation of the part of himself by 
 which he thinks. For existence is a good thing for 
 the virtuous man, and everybody wishes what is good 
 for himself ; but nobody desires to lose his personality 
 even on condition that nothing should be wanting to 
 his new personality, althotigh this condition is not 
 inconceivable, as God even now possesses the supreme 
 good ; he desires it only on condition of being what- 
 ever he now is, and it would seem that the thinking 
 faculty is the man's true self, or is more nearly 
 his true self than anything else is. 
 
 Such a person wishes to live with himself. It is 
 pleasant for him to do so; for the memories of the 
 past are pleasant, and he has good hopes, i.e. pleasant 
 hopes, of the future. His mind too is full of specula- 
 tions, he sympathises with himself preeminently in 
 pain and pleasure; for the same things are pleasant 
 or painfijl to him always, they do not vary, as he 
 experiences, it may be said, few regrets. As then aU 
 these conditions are realized in the relation of a 
 virtuous man to himself and as he has the same 
 relation to his Mend as to himself (for his friend is 
 a second self) it seems that friendship consists in one 
 or other of these conditions, and that they in whom 
 these conditions are realized are friends. 
 
 19—2 
 
292 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 Self-love. Whether it is possible or not for a man to be a 
 
 friend of himself is a question which may be left tor 
 the present. It would seem to be possible in so far 
 as two or more of the specified conditions exist, and 
 because the friendship of one man for another in its 
 extreme form is comparable to the friendship or love 
 of a man for himself On the other hand it appears 
 that these conditions exist in the majority of people, 
 although they are bad people. Perhaps then we may 
 conclude that these conditions are found in such 
 people only so far as they please themselves, and 
 Self-love suppose themsclves to be good. For if a person is 
 tothf^'''^ utterly bad and impious, these conditions do not 
 Tricked. exist; they do not even appear to exist. But it may 
 be said practically that they do not exist in any bad 
 people; for such people are at variance with them- 
 selves, and while desiring one set of things, wish for 
 something else. They are e.g. incontinent people ; 
 they choose, not what seems to themselves good, but 
 what is pleasant, although it is injurious, or they are 
 so cowardly and lazy that they abstain from doing 
 what they think to be best for themselves, or they 
 are people whose moral depravity has led them to 
 commit terrible crimes, and they hate and shun life 
 and put an end to themselves. 
 
 Vicious people seek companions to spend their 
 days with and try to escape from themselves ; for 
 when they are alone, there are many disagreeable 
 things which they recall, and others which they 
 anticipate, but when they are in the company of 
 other people, they forget them. There is nothing 
 lovable in them, and therefore they have no feeling of 
 
CHAP. V.J OB" ARISTOTLE. 293 
 
 love for themselves, nor do such people sympathise 
 with themselves in joy or sorrow; for their soul is 
 divided against itself, one part being pained — so 
 vicious is it — at abstaining from certain things, and 
 the other part being pleased, one part pulling this 
 way, and the other that way, as if they would tear 
 the man asunder. Or if it is impossible to feel pain 
 and pleasure simultaneously, it is not long at all 
 events before the vicious man is pained at having 
 been pleased and could have wished that he had not 
 enjoyed such pleasures; for the wicked are full of 
 regrets. 
 
 It appears then that the wicked man has not a 
 friendly disposition even to himself, as there is nothing 
 lovable in him, and it follows that if this condition is 
 a condition of extreme misery, we must strain every 
 nerve to avoid wickedness, and must make it our 
 ambition to be virtuous ; for then we shall stand in a 
 friendly relation to ourselves, and shall become the 
 friends of others. 
 
 Goodwill resembles friendship, but it is not the Chap. v. 
 same thing; for goodwill, unlike friendship, may be^^j^^. 
 directed towards people who are unknown to us, and s^p. 
 who do not know that we wish them well, as has been p. 249. 
 already said. 
 
 Again, goodwill is not the same thing as affection ; Goodwiu 
 for it does not imply intensity of feeling or desire, affection. 
 which are concomitants of affection. 
 
 Again, while affection implies familiarity, the feel- 
 ing of goodwill may -arise in a moment, as e.g. when 
 we feel goodwill towards competitors in the games. 
 We wish them weU and we sympathise with them, 
 
294 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 but we should not think of giving them practical 
 help; for as we said, goodwill arises in a moment, 
 and it implies no more than a superficial regard. 
 
 Good^l then may be said to be the germ of 
 friendship, as the pleasure which we feel in looking 
 upon a person is the germ of love. Nobody falls in 
 love, unless he has first felt delight in the beauty of 
 the person whom he loves; but it does not follow 
 that one who feels delight in a person's beauty falls 
 in love, unless he longs for him even in absence and 
 desires his presence. So too it is impossible for 
 people to be friends, unless they have come to feel 
 goodwill to each other ; but it does not follow that, if 
 people wish each other well, they are friends ; for we 
 merely wish the good of those to whom we feel 
 goodwill, we should not think of giving them practical 
 help or of taking serious trouble in their behalf. It 
 may be said then metaphorically' that goodwill is 
 unproductive friendship, but by lapse of time and 
 familiarity it may become friendship, although not 
 Origin of such fiiendship as is based on utility or pleasure ; for 
 ^°° ^' ■ neither utility nor pleasure is a possible bg,sis of 
 goodwill. It is true that if A has received a bene- 
 faction from J3, he renders his goodwill to 5 as a 
 return for the services done him, and it is only right 
 for him to make such a return. But if A wishes to 
 confer a benefaction on B in the hope of gaining 
 some advantage by his help, it seems that he does not 
 wish well to B, but rather to himself, as in fact he is 
 
 1 A " metaphor" in Aristotle's sense is any use of a word that 
 is not perfectly natural and straightforward. 
 
CHAP. VI.] OF AEISTOTLE. 295 
 
 not 5's friend, if his motive in courting him is the 
 desire to get something out of him. On the whole 
 however it may be said that goodwill, when it arises, 
 depends on some sort of virtue or goodness. It arises 
 when we look on a person as noble or brave and so 
 on, as we said in the case of competitors in the p- 293. 
 games. 
 
 Unanimity too, appears to be a mark of friend- Chap.vi. 
 ship; but if so, unanimity is not mere unity of^^a'^k^ 
 opinion, as this may exist among people even if they <>* friend- 
 do not know one another. Nor do we speak of 
 persons who are united in judgment on any subject, 
 e.g. on astronomy, as unanimous; for unanimity on 
 these subjects is not a mark of friendship; but we 
 speak of states as unanimous when they are united in 
 judgment upon their interests, and have the same 
 purposes and pursue a common policy. 
 
 It is thus when people agree upon practical 
 matters that they are said to be unanimous, especially 
 when they agree upon such practical matters as are 
 important and as are capable of belonging to both 
 parties or to all. Thus a state is unanimous when all Unanimity 
 the citizens are in favour of making the offices of 
 state elective, or of forming an alliance with the 
 Lacedaemonians, or of electing Pittacus governor, 
 Pittacus himself having been at the time willing to 
 govern. 
 
 But when each of two parties wishes to be 
 governor like Eteodes and Polynices in the Phoe- 
 nissae^, there is not unanimity but discord; for 
 
 1 The scene in the Phoenissae of Euripides beginning at \. 586 
 will sufficiently explain this allusion. 
 
296 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 unanimity does not mean that both parties entertain 
 the same view whatever it may be, but that they 
 entertain the same view as to the way of carrying it 
 out, as when the masses and the upper classes agree 
 in desiring the government of the best citizens ; for 
 then they all gain their desire. 
 
 Unanimity then' appears to be political friendship, 
 and indeed it is often so described, as it touches the 
 interests and concerns of life. Such unanimity can 
 exist only among the virtuous; for they are unani- 
 mous both in themselves'' and in their relation to 
 each other. They are anchored, as it were, immovably, 
 as their wishes are permanent, and do not ebb and 
 flow like the Euripus ; the objects of their wishes are 
 just and profitable, and they all agree in desiring 
 these objects. 
 
 It is impossible for bad men to be unanimous, as 
 it is impossible for them to be friends, except to a 
 slight extent ; for each desires an advantage over the 
 other in all profits, and seeks to avoid his share of 
 labours and public services, and while each person 
 wishes to gain unfair advantage and to escape a fair 
 share of duty, he criticizes and thwarts his neighbours' 
 actions; for unless they keep an eye upon each other, 
 their community is destroyed. The consequence is 
 that they are always in a state of discord, each 
 insistiQg that the other shall do what is just, and 
 neither wishing to do it himself. 
 
 ^ Reading Sfj. 
 
 2 To speak of a person as "unanimous in himself" is rather a 
 Greek than an English mode of expression. 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 297 
 
 It seems that benefactors are better friends to the Chap. vn. 
 recipients of their benefactions than are the recipients ^p"^' 
 to their benefactors, and as this is a surprising fact, ^^^ authors 
 people try to account for it. pients of 
 
 The usual explanation is that the benefactors are tions.**^ 
 creditors and the recipients debtors. Hence as in the 
 case of loans the debtors would be glad if their 
 creditors ceased to exist, but the creditors look 
 anxiously to the safety of the debtors, so benefactors 
 desire the existence of the recipients of their bene- 
 factions, in the hope of receiving a return for the 
 favours they have done them, but the debtors are not 
 anxious to repay the debt. 
 
 Supposing this to be the explanation, Epicharmus 
 would perhaps say that to give it is to take a low 
 view of mankind ; but it seems to be true to human 
 nature, as people have generally short memories, and 
 are more eager to receive benefits than to confer 
 them. 
 
 It would seem, however, that the reason lies 
 deeper down in the nature of things. It is not like 
 the reason which makes creditors care for their 
 debtors ; for they have no affection for their debtors, 
 and if they feel a wish for their safety, it is only in 
 the hope of recovering the debt. But people who 
 have conferred benefactions upon others feel love and 
 affection for the recipients of their benefactions, even 
 if these recipients do not and cannot do them any 
 service. The same law holds good among artisans. 
 Every artisan feels greater affection for his own work, 
 than the work, if it were endowed with life, would 
 feel for him. But nowhere I think is it so true as in 
 
 (/ 
 
 v/ 
 
298 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 the case of poets ; they have an extraordinary affection 
 for their own poems, and are as fond of them as if 
 they were their children. 
 
 It seems to be much the same with benefactors. 
 The recipient of the benefaction is their work, and 
 therefore they feel a greater affection for their work, 
 than the work feels for its author. The reason is that 
 existence is an object of desire and love to everybody, 
 but we exist by activity i.e. by living and acting; the 
 author of a work then may be said to exist by 
 activity ; he is therefore fond of his work, because he 
 is fond of existence. 
 
 This affection of the author for his work is a 
 natural law; for that which exists potentially is 
 proved by the work to exist actively. It is also true 
 that in the eyes of the benefactor the performance of 
 his action is noble; he therefore delights in the 
 person who affords him the opportunity of displaying 
 it. The recipient of the benefaction, on the other 
 hand, finds no nobleness, but at the best only profit, 
 in its author, and profit is less pleasant and lovable 
 than nobleness. 
 
 Again, it is activity in the present which is 
 pleasant, hope for the future, and recollection of the 
 past ; but nothing is so pleasant or so lovable as the 
 exercise of activity. Now a person who has conferred 
 a benefit finds that his work is permanent, for noble- 
 ness is longlived. But if he receives a benefaction, 
 the profit is transitory. The memory too of noble 
 deeds is pleasant, but that of useful deeds is less 
 pleasant, if pleasant at all. It seems to be just the 
 opposite with the expectation. Again, the feeling of 
 
CHAP. VIII.J OF ARISTOTLE. 299 
 
 aflFection is a sort of active, but the receiving of it a sort 
 of passive, condition, and the feeling and exercise of 
 affection naturally accompany superiority in the action. 
 
 Again, we are all most fond of such things as 
 have cost us trouble. Thus people who have made 
 money are always fonder of it than people who have 
 inherited it. Accordingly, as it takes no trouble to 
 receive a benefaction, but is hard work to confer one, 
 benefactors are more affectionate than the recipients 
 of benefactions. This is the reason why mothers are 
 more devoted to their children than fathers; it is 
 that they suffer more in giving them birth and are 
 more certain that they are their own. But this 
 certainly belongs also to benefactors. 
 
 It is often asked whether one ought to love CHAP.vrn. 
 oneself or somebody else most should a 
 
 *' person love 
 
 We censure people who are exceedingly fond ofMmseifor 
 themselves, and call them " lovers of self" by way of lis™mos^? 
 reproach ; for it seems that a bad man has an eye to 
 his own interest in all that he does, and all the more 
 in proportion to his greater viciousness. Accordingly 
 it is a charge against him that he does nothing 
 without an eye to his own interest. The virtuous 
 man, on the other hand, is moved by a motive of 
 nobleness, and the better he is, the more strongly he 
 is so moved; he acts in the interest of his friend, 
 disregarding his own. 
 
 The facts of life are at variance with these theories 
 as indeed we might expect; for we ought, it is said, 
 to love our best friend best ; but the best friend is he 
 who, when he wishes the good of another, wishes it 
 for the other's sake, and wishes it even if nobody will 
 
300 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 know his wish. But these conditions and all such 
 others as are characteristic of friendship, are best 
 realized in the relation of a man to himself; for it 
 
 ^- ^*^ has been said that aU the characteristics of friendship 
 in the relation of a man to other men are dei'ived 
 from his relation to himself. All the proverbial 
 sayings agree with this view, such as "Friends have 
 one soul," "Friends' goods are common goods," 
 "Equality is friendship," and "Charity begins at 
 hotne"; for all these conditions exist preeminently in 
 relation to oneself, as every one is his own best 
 Mend, and therefore must love himself best. 
 
 It is not unnatural to ask. Which of these two 
 lines of argument ought we to follow, as there is 
 something convincing in both ? Perhaps then it will 
 be well to analyse them and to determine how far 
 and in what sense they are respectively true. Now 
 the truth wiU I think become clear, if we ascertain 
 
 Nature of the meaning of the word "self-love" in them both. 
 When people use it as a term of reproach, they give 
 the name "lovers of self" to people who assign 
 themselves a larger share of money, honours, and 
 bodily pleasures than belongs to them. These are 
 the objects of desire to men in general. It is these 
 that they conceive to be the highest goods, on these 
 that they set ,their hearts, and it is for these therefore 
 that they contend. Thus people who are eager to 
 get an undue share of these things gratify their 
 desires and emotions generally, or, in other words, 
 the irrational parts of the soul. This is the character 
 of men in general, and hence as men in general are 
 bad, the term "self-love" has come to be used in a 
 
 self-loTe. 
 
CHAP. VIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 301 
 
 bad sense. It is right then to censure people who 
 are lovers of self in this sense. It is easy to see that 
 people ordinarily apply the term "self-love" to those 
 who assign themselves an undue share of such things 
 as money, honour, and pleasure ; for if a person were 
 to set his heart always on preeminence in doing what 
 is just or temperate or virtuous in any other respect, 
 and were always and by all means to reserve to 
 himself the noble part, nobody would accuse him of 
 self-love or censure him for it. Yet it would seem 
 that such a person is conspicuously a lover of self. 
 At all events he assigns to himself what is in the 
 highest sense good, and gratifies the supreme part of 
 his nature and yields it an uiiqualified obedience. 
 But as it is the supreme part of a state or any other 
 corporation which seems to be in the truest sense the 
 state or corporation itself, so it is with a man. 
 Accordingly he is in the truest sense a lover of self, 
 who loves and gratifies the supreme part of his 
 being. 
 
 Again, a person is called continent and incontinent 
 according as reason is, or is not, the ruling faculty in 
 his being. But to say this is to say that the reason 
 is the man. Also it is when we act most rationally 
 that we are held in the truest sense to have acted 
 ourselves, and to have acted voluntarily. 
 
 It is perfectly clear then that it is the rational 
 part of a man which is the man himself, and that it is 
 the virtuous man who feels the most affection for this 
 part. It follows that the virtuous man is a lover of 
 self, although not in the sense in which a man who is 
 censured for self-love is a lover of self, but in a sense 
 
302 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK TX. 
 
 differing fi-om it as widely as a life directed by reason 
 differs from a life directed by emotion, and as the 
 desire for what is noble differs from a desire for what 
 seems to be one's interest. 
 
 Now if people set their hearts preeminently upon 
 noble actions, we all approve and applaud them ; but 
 if all people were eager in pursuit of what is noble 
 and exerted themselves to the utmost to do the 
 noblest deeds, then the state would have all its wants 
 supplied, and an individual citizen would have the 
 greatest of all goods, assuming that virtue is the 
 greatest good. We conclude then that a good man 
 ought to be a lover of self, as by his noble deeds he 
 will benefit himself and serve others, but that the 
 wicked man ought not to be a lover of self, as he will 
 injure himself and other people too by following his 
 evil passions. 
 
 In the bad man then there is a discrepancy 
 between what he ought to do and what he does, 
 whereas the virtuous man does what he ought to do ; 
 for reason always chooses what is best for itself, and 
 the good man is obedient to his reason. 
 
 It is true of the virtuous man that he will act 
 often in the interest of his friends and of his country, 
 and, if need be, will even die for them. He will 
 surrender money, honour, and aU the goods for which 
 the world contends, reserving only nobleness for 
 himself, as he would rather enjoy an intense pleasure 
 for a short time than a moderate pleasure long, and 
 would rather live one year nobly than many years 
 indifferently, and would rather perform one noble 
 and lofty action than many poor actions. This is 
 
CHAP. VIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 303 
 
 true of one who lays down his life for another ; he 
 chooses great nobleness for his own. Such a man 
 will surrender riches gladly if only he may enrich his 
 friends ; for then while his friend gets the money, he 
 gets the nobleness, and so assigns the greater good to 
 himself. 
 
 It is the same with honour and offices of state. 
 All these he wiU surrender to his friend, but the 
 surrender is noble and laudable in his eyes. 
 
 It is reasonable then to call such a man virtuous, 
 as he prefers nobleness to everything. He may even 
 surrender the opportvuiity of action to his friend. It 
 may be nobler for him to inspire his friend to act 
 than to act himself. 
 
 Wherever then the virtuous man deserves praise, 
 it is clear that he assigns to himself a preponderant 
 share of noble conduct. In this sense then it is right 
 to be a lover of self, but not in the sense in which 
 ordinary people love themselves. 
 
 Another question in dispute is whether the happy Chap. ix. 
 man will need friends or not. wpy man 
 
 It is sometimes said that people, whose lives are need 
 
 1.-. 1 ,1 , n n • J friends? 
 
 fortunate and mdependent, have no need or inenos, 
 as they are already in possession of all good things. 
 As being independent then they have no need of 
 anything more, whereas a friend is like a second self, 
 who supplies what it is not in our own power to 
 supply. Hence the saying 
 
 "Let but God bless us, what's the good of friends?^" 
 But it looks absurd to assign all good things to 
 
 1 Euripides, Orestes 667. 
 
304 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 the happy man, and yet not to assign friends — the 
 greatest as it seems of all external goods. If it is 
 more a friend's part to do good than to receive it, if 
 beneficence is the part of the good man or of virtue, 
 and if it is nobler to do good to one's friends than to 
 strangers, the virtuous man will need somebody to do 
 good to. Accordingly it is sometimes asked whether 
 we need friends more in times of prosperity or in 
 times of adversity, the idea being that an unfortunate 
 man needs somebody to do him a service, and a 
 fortunate man somebody for him to do good to. 
 Again, it is I think absurd to place the fortunate 
 man in solitude, as nobody would choose to possess 
 all good things by himself. For man is a social being, 
 and disposed to live with others. It follows that the 
 fortunate man must live in society, as he possesses all 
 natural goods. But it is clearly better to spend one's 
 days with friends and virtuous people than with 
 strangers, who may not be virtuous. It follows 
 therefore that the happy man has need of friends. 
 What is the meaning then of the first view', and 
 in what sense is it true? It may be suggested that 
 in the ordinary view friends are regarded as people 
 who can be useful. Now the fortunate man will not 
 need friends of this kind, as he already possesses all 
 that is good, nor will he need friends to give him 
 pleasure, or he will need them but little; for as his 
 life is pleasant in itself, it has no need of adventitious 
 pleasure. But as he does not need friends of this 
 kind, it looks as if he did not need friends at all. 
 
 1 i.e. the view that the happy man haS no need of friends. 
 
CHAP. IX. J OF ARISTOTLE. 305 
 
 But this, I think, is not true, for it has been stated at p. le. 
 the outset that happiness is a form of activity, and it 
 is clear that an activity is always coming into being, 
 and does not already exist, like a piece of property. 
 But if happiness consists in life and activity, and the 
 activity of the good man is virtuous and pleasant in 
 itself, as has been said at the outset, if there is ap 20. 
 pleasure in the sense that a thing is our own, and if 
 we are better able to contemplate others than our- 
 selves, and to contemplate the actions of others than 
 our own, it follows that the actions of virtuous 
 people, if they are friends, are pleasant to the good, 
 as they contain both the elements' which are naturally 
 pleasant The fortunate man then wiU need friends 
 of this kind, as it is his choice to contemplate such 
 actions as are good and belong to himself; for the 
 actions of the good man who is his friend answer to 
 this description. 
 
 Again, it is supposed that the happy man must 
 have a pleasant life. Now life is hard, if it be lived 
 in solitude, as it is difficult for a man easily to 
 maintain a constant activity by himself, but it is 
 comparatively easy in the society of others and in 
 relation to them. 
 
 The activity in relation to others then will be 
 more continuous, and it is pleasant in itself. It 
 ought to be so in the case of the fortunate man ; for 
 a virtuous man qva virtuous man delights in virtuous 
 
 1 The two elements are (1) that our friend's actions are good, 
 (2) that they belong to us, our friend being, as Aristotle says, " a 
 second self." 
 
 W. N. E. 20 
 
so 6 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 actions, but is offended at vicious actions, as a 
 musician feels pleasure in good music and pain at 
 bad music. 
 
 There is a certain discipline too in virtue which 
 may be derived from living in good society, as 
 Theognis' says. 
 
 But if we look more deeply into the nature of 
 things, it seems that a virtuous friend is naturally 
 ?. 20. desirable to a virtuous man; for that which is 
 naturally good, as has been said, is good and pleasant 
 Essential in itself to the virtuous man. But while life among 
 jfe"'* ° the lower animals is defined by the faculty of sensa- 
 tion, it is defined among men by the faculty of 
 sensation or thought. But a faculty is intelligible 
 only by reference to its activity. It is upon the 
 activity that the faculty essentially depends. It 
 seems then that life consists essentially in sensation 
 or thought. 
 
 Again, life is a thing that is good and pleasant in 
 itself, for it possesses the definiteness* which is of the 
 nature of the good ; but that which is naturally good 
 is good also to the virtuous man. It is as being a 
 natural good that life seems to be pleasant to 
 everybody. But in speaking of life as pleasant, we 
 must not take a vicious or corrupt life, or a life of 
 pain; for such a life is indefinite, as are its conditions. 
 But we will try to clear up the subject of pain 
 
 1 The saying of Theognis ivBXav iiev yap an itrffKa, which is 
 quoted p. 179, 1. 19, may be taken as illustrating this opinion. 
 
 2 The idea of " definiteness" or " limitation" as a characteristic 
 of the good is Pythagorean. Cp. to yap kokov tou meipov, as oi 
 Hvdayopeioi cixaCop, to 8* dyaBou tou TTfirepaa-iievov, p. 29, IL 32 — 34. 
 
CHAP. IX.] OP ARISTOTLE. 307 
 
 hereafter. Life itself is good and pleasant. It seems 
 to be so from the fiict that it is desired by people, 
 and especially by the virtuous and fortunate ; for it is 
 to them that life is most desirable, as it is theirs 
 "which is the most fortunate life. One who sees 
 perceives that he sees, and one who hears that he 
 hears, and one who walks that he walks, and similarly 
 in all our activities there is something in us which 
 perceives that we exercise the activity ; and if so, it 
 foUows that we can perceive that we perceive, and 
 understand that we understand. But to perceive or 
 understand that we perceive or understand, is to 
 perceive or tmderstand that we exist' ; for existence 
 consists, as we said, in perceiving or understanding. 
 
 But the perception or sensation of life is a pleasure 
 in itself; for life is naturally a good, and it is a 
 pleasure to perceive good existing in oneself. Life 
 is an object of desire, and to none so desirable as to 
 the good, because existence is to them good and 
 pleasant ; for they feel a pleasure in their consciousness 
 of what is good in itself. But the virtuous man stands 
 in the same relation to his friend as to himself ; for 
 his friend is a second self. As then everyone desires his 
 own existence, so or similarly he desires the existence 
 of his friend. But the desirableness of existence, as p. 291. 
 we saw, lies in the sense of one's own goodness, such 
 a sensation being pleasant in itself. We require 
 therefore the consciousness of our friend's existence, 
 
 ' Sir A. Grant justly regards this statement of "the absolute 
 unity of existence with thought" as anticipating the Cartesian 
 formula, Cogito, ergo sum. 
 
 20—2 
 
308 THE NICOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 and this we shall get by living with him and asso- 
 ciating with him in conversation and thought ; for it 
 would seem that this is what we mean when we 
 speak of living together in the case of men, we do not 
 mean, as in the case of cattle, merely occupying the 
 same feeding-ground. 
 
 If the fortunate man then finds existence desirable 
 
 in itself, as being naturally good and pleasant, and if 
 
 a friend's existence is much the same as one's own, it 
 
 follows that a friend will be a desirable thing. But 
 
 that which is desirable a man ought to possess, or, if 
 
 he does not possess it, he will be so far deficient. 
 
 We conclude therefore that, if a person is to be 
 
 happy, he will need virtuous friends, 
 
 Ohap.x. Is it our duty then to make the largest possible 
 
 mmber of iiumber of fricuds ? or is it with friendship generally, 
 
 riends. as with the friendship of hospitality, where it has 
 
 been neatly said 
 
 "Give me not many friends, nor give me noneV' 
 
 i.e. will it here too be proper neither to be fi-iendless 
 nor again to have an excessive number of friends ? 
 
 In the case of friends whose friendship we make 
 from a motive of expediency the rule is a perfectly 
 proper one, as it is a laborious task to return the 
 services of a number of people, nor is life long 
 enough for the task. A larger number of such 
 friends then than are sufficient for one's own life 
 would be superfiuous and prejudicial to noble living ; 
 they are therefore unnecessary. 
 
 Again, of those whom we make friends as being 
 
 1 Hesiod,*Epya KOI 'Hfiepat, 713. 
 
CHAP. X.] OF AEISTOTLE. 309 
 
 pleasant or sweet to us, few are enough, as a little 
 sweetening is enough in our diet. 
 
 But if we take the case of virtuous friends it may 
 be asked. Should they be as numerous as possible, or 
 is there a fixed limitation to the size of a circle of 
 friends, as there is to the size of a state ? For ten 
 people would not be enough to compose a state ; on 
 the other hand, if the population rose to a hundred 
 thousand, it would cease to be a state. It may be 
 suggested, however, that the number of citizens is 
 not a single fixed amount, but may be anything 
 within certain definite limits. So too there will be a 
 definite limit to the number of friends. It will, I 
 think, be the highest niunber with whom a person 
 could live. For it is community of life which we saw 
 to be the especial characteristic of friendship, and it 
 is easy to see that a person cannot live with a number 
 of people and distribute himself among them. 
 
 Again, a person's friends must themselves be 
 friends of each other, if they are all to pass their 
 days together, and this is a condition which can 
 hardly exist among a number of people. It is hard 
 for a person to sympathise fittingly with a number of 
 people in their joys and sorrows ; for it will probably 
 happen that at the very time when he is caUed 
 upon to rejoice with one he will be called upon to 
 sorrow with another. 
 
 Perhaps it is well then not to try to have the 
 largest possible munber of friends, but to have only 
 so many as are sufficient for community of life, as it 
 would seem to be impossible to be a devoted friend 
 of a number of people. Hence it is impossible to be 
 
310 THE NIOOMACHBAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 in love with several people ; for love is in its intention 
 a sort of exaggerated friendship, and it is impossible 
 to feel this exaggerated friendship except for an 
 individual. So too it is impossible to be the devoted 
 friend of more than a few people. This is what 
 seems to be practically the case. We do not find 
 that people have a number of friends who are as 
 intimate with them as comrades. The classical 
 friendships' of story too have all been friendships 
 between two persons. 
 
 People who have a host of friends, and who take 
 everybody to their arms, seem to be nobody's friends, 
 unless indeed in the sense in which all fellow-citizens 
 are friends ; and if they have a host of friends, we call 
 them complaisant people. 
 
 Although then as a fellow-citizen it is possible for 
 
 one to be the friend of a number of people and yet 
 
 not to be complaisant, but to be truly virtuous, it is 
 
 impossible to be the friend of a number of people as 
 
 being virtuous and deserving of friendship for their 
 
 own sake. We must be content if we can find only a 
 
 ' few people who deserve such friendship. 
 
 HAP. XI. It remains to ask. Is it in times of prosperity or in 
 
 hettier timcs of advcrsity that friends are more needed? 
 
 LfiUuS 
 
 e more We require them at both times ; for in adversity we 
 •Mperity need assistance, and in prosperity we need people to 
 >rsit°^ live with and to do good to, as it is presumably our 
 wish to do good. 
 
 Friendship then is more necessary in times of 
 
 1 Such as the friendship of Achilles and Patroclus or of 
 Damon and Pythias. 
 
CHAP. XI.] OF AHISTOTLB. 311 
 
 adversity ; therefore in adversity we want friends to 
 help us; but it is nobler in times of pTosperity; 
 therefore in times of prosperity we look for good 
 people, as it is more desirable to do them services 
 and to live in their society. For the mere presence 
 of friends is pleasant even in adversity, as pain is 
 alleviated by the sympathy of friends. Accordingly 
 it may be doubted whether they take part of the 
 burden as it were upon themselves, or it is rather the 
 pleasure of their presence, and the thought of their 
 sympathy, which diminishes the pain we feeL 
 
 We need not now discuss whether this or some- 
 thing else is the cause of the alleviation. It is clear, 
 at all events, that the fact is as we state it. But it 
 seems that the presence of friends is a source partly 
 of comfort and partly of pain. There is a pleasure in 
 the mere sight of friends, especially when one is in 
 adversity, and something too of support against 
 sorrow; for the look and voice of a friend are 
 consoling to us if he be a person of tact, as he knows 
 our character and the sources of our pleasure and 
 pain. On the other hand it is painfiil to perceive 
 that a person is pained at our own adversity, as 
 everybody avoids being a cause of pain to his friends. 
 Accordingly people of a courageous nature shrink 
 from involving their friends in their pain, and such a 
 person, unless he be extraordinarily indififerent to 
 pain, cannot endure the pain which he causes themj 
 nor can he in any way put up with people whose 
 sympathy takes the form of lamentation, as he is not 
 fond of indulging in lamentation himself It is only 
 weak women and eflfeminate men who take delight in 
 
312 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK IX. 
 
 such people as ^display their sympathy by their 
 groans and who love them as friends and sympathi- 
 sers in their sorrow. But it is evident that we ought 
 always to imitate one who is better than ourselves. 
 
 The presence of friends in seasons of prosperity is 
 a pleasant means of passing the time, and not only 
 so, but it suggests the idea that they take pleasure in 
 our own goods. It would seem a duty then to be 
 forward in inviting friends to share our good fortune, 
 as there is a nobleness in conferring benefactions, 
 but to be slow in inviting them to share our ill 
 fortune, as it is a duty to give them as small a share 
 of our evils as possible, whence the saying 
 
 "Enough that I am wretched^." 
 
 But the time when we should be most ready to 
 call them to our side is the time when it is probable 
 that at the cost of but slight personal inconvenience 
 they will have a chance of doing us a great service. 
 
 On the other hand, it is, I think, proper for us to 
 go to our friends when they are in trouble, even if 
 they do not send for us, and to make a point of going, 
 as it is a friendly act to do good, especially to those 
 who are in need and have made no claim upon us; 
 for this is the nobler and pleasanter course for both. 
 It is proper too to be forward in helping them to 
 enjoy themselves, as this again is a service that 
 friends may render, but to be less forward in seeking 
 
 1 The words of Jocasta in the Oedipus Tyrannus 1061 
 
 oKis voaovcr' eyoj, 
 
 are in sense, though not exactly in form, the same as this 
 quotation. 
 
CHAP. XI.] OF ARISTOTLE. 313 
 
 to get enjoyment for ourselves, as there is nothing 
 noble in being forward to receive benefits. Still we 
 must, I think, be on our guard against seeming 
 churlish, as sometimes happens, in rejecting their 
 services. 
 
 It appears then that the presence of friends is 
 universally desirable. 
 
 Nothing is so welcome to people who are in love Chap. xn. 
 as the sight of one another. There is no sense that ^I^^X' 
 they choose in preference to this, as it is upon this ^^ *?, , , 
 more than upon anything else that the existence and friendship 
 creation of their love depends. May we not say then 
 that there is nothing which friends desire so much as 
 community of life ? For the essence of friendship is 
 association. 
 
 Again, a man stands in the same relation to his 
 friend as to himself; but the sense of his own 
 existence is desirable; so too then is that of the 
 existence of his friend. The activity of friends too 
 is realized in living together. It is only reasonable 
 therefore that they should desire community of life. 
 
 Again, whatever it is that people regard as con- 
 stituting existence, whatever it is that is their object 
 in desiring life, it is in this that they wish to live with 
 their friends. Accordingly some people are com- 
 panions in drinking, others in gambUng, others in 
 gymnastic exercises, or in the chase or in philosophy, 
 and each class spends its days in that for which it 
 cares more than for anything else in life ; for as it is 
 their wish to live with their friends, they do the 
 things and participate in the things which seem to 
 them to constitute a common life. 
 
3 1 4 NICOMACHBAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [bK; IX. 
 
 Thus the friendship of the bad proves to be 
 vicious ; for as they are unstable, they participate in 
 what is bad, and become vicious by a process of 
 mutual assimilation. But the friendship of the 
 virtuous is virtuous; it grows as their intercourse 
 grows, and they seem to be morally elevated by the 
 exercise of their activity and by the correction of 
 each other's faults ; for each models himself upon the 
 pleasing features of the other's character, whence the 
 saying 
 
 "From good men learn good life^." 
 
 This may be regarded as a sufficient discussion of 
 friendship or love. We will proceed to discuss plea- 
 sure. 
 
 ' A saying of Theognis. Cp. p. 174 1. 31. 
 
BOOK X. 
 
 It is natural, I think, to discuss pleasure next; Chap.i. 
 for it seems that there is, in a preeminent degree, an ®*^""®' 
 affinity between pleasure and our human nature, and 
 that is the reason why, in the education of the young, 
 we steer their course by the rudders of pleasure and 
 pain. It seems too that there is no more important 
 element in the formation of a virtuous character than 
 a rightly directed sense of pleasure and dislike; for 
 pleasure and pain are coextensive with life, and they 
 exercise a powerful influence in promoting virtue and 
 happiness of life, as we choose what is pleasant and 
 avoid what is painfuL 
 
 Considering, then, the importance of these ques- 
 tions, it would seem to be clearly a duty not to pass 
 them over, especially as they admit of much dispute. 
 For some people say that the good' is pleasure ; ^^*|2^« 
 others, on the contrary, that pleasure is something good, 
 utterly bad, whether, as is possible, they are convinced 
 that it really is so, or they think it better in the 
 interest of human life to represent pleasure as an 
 evU, even if it is not so, feeling that men are generally 
 inclined to pleasure, and are the slaves of their 
 
 1 Aristotle in this "book speaks of "the good" {rayaSov), mean- 
 ing the highest good or summum bonum. 
 
316 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK X. 
 
 pleasures, and that it is a duty therefore to lead them 
 in the contrary direction, as they will so arrive at the 
 mean or proper state. 
 
 But I venture to think that this is not a right 
 statement of the case. For in matters of the emotions 
 and actions theories are not so trustworthy as facts ; 
 and thus, when theories disagree with the facts of 
 perception, they fall into contempt, and involve the 
 truth itself in their destruction. For if a person 
 censures pleasure and yet is seen at times to make 
 pleasure his aim, he is thought to incline to pleasure 
 as being entirely desirable; for it is beyond the 
 power of ordinary people to make distinctions. It 
 seems then the true theories are exceedingly useful, 
 not only as the means of knowledge but as guides of 
 life; for as being in harmony with facts, they are 
 believed, and being believed they encourage people 
 who understand them to regulate their lives in 
 accordance with them. 
 
 Enough then of such considerations ; let us review 
 the various doctrines of pleasure. 
 Chap. h. Eudoxus held that pleasure was the good, because 
 EudSs. be saw that all things, whether rational or irrational, 
 Heasnre make pleasure their aim. He argued that in all 
 cases that which is desirable is good, and that which 
 is most desirable is most good ; hence the fact of all 
 things being drawn to the same object is an indication 
 that that object is the best for all, as everything 
 discovers what is good for itself in the same way as 
 it discovers food; but^ that that which is good for all, 
 and is the aim of all, is the good. 
 1 Reading bk. 
 
CHAP. II.] OF AEISTOTLE. 317 
 
 His theories were accepted, not so much for their 
 intrinsic value as for the excellence of his moral 
 character; for he was regarded as a person of 
 exemplary temperance. It seemed then that he did 
 not put forward these views as being a votary of 
 pleasure, but that the truth was reaUy as he said. 
 He held that this truth resulted with equal clearness 
 from a consideration of the opposite of plea»u/re; for 
 as pain is something which everybody should avoid, 
 so too its opposite is something which everybody 
 should desire. He argued that a thing is in the 
 highest degree desirable, if we do not desire it for 
 any ulterior reason, or with any ulterior motive, and 
 this is admittedly the case with pleasure; for if a 
 person is pleased, nobody asks the farther question. 
 What is his motive in being pleased ? a fact which 
 proves that pleasure is desirable in itself. And 
 further that the addition of pleasure to any good, 
 e.g. to just or temperate conduct, renders that good 
 more desirable, and it follows that if the good is 
 augmented by a thing, that thing must itself be a 
 good. 
 
 It seems then that this argument proves pleasure Pleasure 
 to be a good, but not to be a good in a higher sense *" ^''° " 
 than anything else; for any good whatever is more 
 desirable with the addition of another good than 
 when it stands alone. It is by a precisely similar 
 argument that Plato tries to prove that pleastire is 
 not the good. Pleasure (he says) is not the chief 
 good, for the pleasant life is more desirable with the 
 addition of prudence than without it; but if the 
 combination is better, pleasure is not the good, as 
 
318 THE mCOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK X. 
 
 the good itself cannot be made more desirable by 
 any addition. 
 
 But it is clear that, if pleaswre is not the good, 
 neither can anything else be which is made more 
 desirable by the addition of any absolute good. 
 What is it then which is incapable of such addition, 
 but at the same time admits of our participating in 
 it ? For it is a good of this kind which is the object 
 of our research. 
 
 Desire and People who argue on the other hand that that 
 which all things aim at is not a; good may be said to 
 talk nonsense ; for we accept the universal opinion as 
 true, and one who upsets our trust in the universal 
 opinion wiU find it hard to put forward any opinion 
 that is more trustworthy. If it were only unintelligent 
 beings that longed for pleasure, there would be some- 
 thing in what he says ; but if intelligent beings also 
 long for it, how can it be so? It is probable that 
 even in the lower creatures there is some natural' 
 principle which is superior to the creatures themselves, 
 and aims at their proper good. 
 
 Argninent3 Nor does it Seem that these people fairly meet 
 
 pfeasure the argument drawn from the opposite of pleasure. 
 
 go^d^ * They say it does not follow that, if pain is an evil, 
 pleasure is a good, as not only is one evil opposed to 
 another, but both are opposed to that which is 
 neither one nor the other, hut a neutral state. This 
 is true enough, but it does not apply to pleasure and 
 pain. For if both pleasure and pain were evil, it 
 would have been a duty to avoid both, and if neither 
 
 1 I cannot help thinking that aya^ov ought to be omitted from 
 the text. 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 319 
 
 were evil, it would have been a duty not to avoid 
 either, or not to avoid one more than the other; 
 whereas in fact it is clear that people avoid one as an 
 evil, and desire the other as a good. It follows then 
 that pleasure and pain are opposed to each other as 
 good and evil. 
 
 Nor again does it follow that, if pleasure is not a 
 quality, neither is it a good, for the activities of virtue 
 are not qualities, nor is happiness. 
 
 It is argued too that good is definite, but pleasure 
 is indefinite, as it admits of degrees. 
 
 Now if the ground of this opinion is that it is 
 possible to be pleased in a greater or a less degree, 
 the same thing is true of justice and the other 
 virtues. For here it is evident that we speak of 
 persons as possessing the several virtues in a greater 
 or less degree ; some people are just and courageous 
 in a greater or less degree than others, and it is 
 possible to act with a greater or less degree of 
 justice and temperance. 
 
 If however the meaning is that the indefiniteness 
 resides in the pleasures, this is, I think, not the true 
 explanation, supposing that some pleasures are mixed 
 and others unmixed\ 
 
 Again", health is definite, yet it admits of degrees; 
 and why should it not be so with pleasure? For 
 health is not the same symmetry or proportion of 
 
 ^ Aristotle, following Plato's theory of " mixed " and " un- 
 mixed" pleasures, argues that it is only such pleasures as are 
 "mixed" which can be said to possess the character of "in- 
 definiteness." Cp. Philebus p. 52. 
 
 ^ Beading xal tL koiXvci. 
 
320 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK X. 
 
 elements in all people, nor is it always uniform in the 
 same person ; it admits of relaxation up to a certain 
 point, and of different degrees, -without ceasing to be 
 health. Something of the same kind then may be 
 also true of pleasure. 
 
 Again, the opponents of pleaswe, looking upon 
 the good as perfect or complete, and the processes of 
 movement and production as imperfect or incomplete, 
 try to prove that pleasure is motion or production. 
 But they are wrong, I think, nor is pleasure a motion 
 at all. For quickness and slowness are characteristic, 
 it seems, of every motion, either absolutely, as of the 
 motion of the universe, or else relatively, but neither 
 of them is a condition inherent in pleasure. It is 
 possible to become pleased, as it is to become angry, 
 quickly, but not to be pleased quickly or relatively, 
 i.e. in comparison with somebody else, as it is to walk 
 or to grow quickly and so on. The transition then, 
 to a state of pleasure may be quick or slow, but the 
 active experience of pleasure, i.e. the state of being 
 pleased, cannot be quick. 
 Pleasure In what seuse, too, can pleasure be a process of pro- 
 
 proeeBB ductiou ? It is apparently not the case that anything 
 daS^on ^^° ^® produced out of anything ; it is the case that a 
 thing is resolved into that out of which it is produced. 
 Also, pain is the destruction of that of which plea- 
 sure is the prdduction. It is said too that pain is 
 /a deficiency of the natural state, and pleasure its 
 satisfaction. But this deficiency and this satisfaction 
 are emotions of the body. If, then, pleasure is a 
 satisfaction of the natural state, it follows that the 
 part which is the seat of the satisfaction will feel 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 321 
 
 pleasure i.e. the body. But this seems not to be the 
 case. We conclude therefore that pleasure is not a 
 satisfaction of the natural state, although one may 
 feel pleasure while the process of satisfaction is going 
 on, as he may feel pain while undergoing' an opera- 
 tion. 
 
 This Tiew of pleasure, viz. that it is a process of 
 satisfaction, seems to have originated in the pleasures 
 and pains of eating and drinking, as in them we first 
 feel a deficiency and an antecedent pain, and then 
 feel pleasure at the satisfaction. But this is not true 
 of all pleasures; the pleasures of mathematics e.g. 
 have no such antecedent pain, nor among the plea- 
 sures of the senses have those of the smell, nor again 
 many sounds and sights, memories and hopes. What 
 is there then of which these will be processes of pro- 
 duction ? For in them there has been no deficiency 
 to be satisfied. 
 
 But if the instance of immoral pleasures be 
 adduced to prove that pleasure is a bad thing, we 
 may answer that these are not really pleasant. They 
 may be pleasant to people who are in a bad condition, 
 but it must not be inferred that they are pleasant 
 except to such people, any more than that things are 
 healthful or sweet or bitter in themselves, because 
 they are so to invalids, or that things are white, 
 because they appear so to people who are sufiering 
 from ophthalmia. 
 
 Perhaps the truth may be stated thus : Pleasures 
 are desirable, but not if they are immoral in their 
 
 1 It is hardly likely that re/nvo/if yos is the true reading; but I 
 have tried to give such sense as can be made of it. 
 
 W. N. E. 21 
 
322 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [^OOK X. 
 
 origin, just as wealth is pleasant, but not if it be 
 obtained at the cost of turning traitor to one's country, 
 or health, but not at the cost of eating any food, 
 however disagreeable. Or it may be said that plea- 
 sures are of different kinds, those which are noble in 
 their origin are different from those which are 
 dishonourable, and it is impossible to enjoy the 
 pleasure of the just man without being just, or that 
 of the musician without being musical, and so on. 
 The distinction drawn between a friend and a flatterer 
 seems to bring out clearly the truth that pleasure is 
 not a good, or that there are pleasures of different 
 kinds; for it seems that while the object of the 
 friend in social intercourse is good, that of the 
 flatterer is pleasure, and while the flatterer is cen- 
 sured, the friend for his disinterestedness is praised. 
 
 Again, nobody would choose to live all his life 
 with the mind of a child, although he should enjoy 
 the pleasures of childhood to the utmost, or to 
 delight in doing what is utterly shameful, although 
 he were never to suffer pain for doing it. There are 
 many things too upon which we should set our 
 hearts, even if they brought no pleasure with them, 
 e.g. sight, memory, knowledge, and the possession 
 of the virtues; and if it be true that these are 
 necessarily attended by pleasures, it is immaterial, 
 as we should desire them even if no pleasure resulted 
 from them. It seems to be clear then that pleasure 
 is not the good, nor is every pleasure desirable, and 
 that there are some pleasures which are desirable in 
 themselves, and they differ in kind or in origin from 
 the others. 
 
CHAP. II.] OF ARISTOTLE. 323 
 
 We may regard this as a sufficient account of 
 such views as are held in regard to pleasure and 
 pain. 
 
 But the nature or character of pleasure wiU be Chap. m. 
 
 , , .„ , „ Nature of 
 
 more clearly seen, it we resume our argument irom pieasnre. 
 the beginning. 
 
 It seems that the act of sight is perfect or com- 
 plete at any time; it does not lack anything which 
 will afterwards be produced, and will make it perfect 
 of its kind. Pleasure appears to resemble sight in 
 this respect; it is a whole, nor is it possible at any 
 time to find a pleasure which will be made perfect of 
 its kind by increased duration. 
 
 It follows that pleasure is not a motion; forP'«asnre 
 
 , . . , . not " 
 
 every motion takes a certam time, and aims at a motion or 
 certain end. Thus the builder's art is perfect or production. 
 complete when it has accomplished its object It is 
 complete, either in respect of the whole time which 
 the building took, or in respect of the moment when 
 it was completed. But in the various parts of the 
 time the various processes or motions are imperfect 
 and different in kind from the whole and from one 
 another; for the setting of the stones is different 
 from the fluting of the pillar, and both from the 
 building of the temple as a whole, and whereas the 
 building of the temple is complete, nothing being 
 wanting to the object proposed, that of the basement 
 and the triglyph is incomplete, as each is only the 
 building of a part of the temple. These processes 
 or motions are therefore different in kind, and 
 it is impossible at any time when the building is 
 going on to find a motion which is complete or 
 
 21—2 
 
324 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK X, 
 
 perfect of its kind. Such a motion, if found at all, 
 will be found only in the whole time. 
 
 It is much the same with walking or any other 
 process. For here again, although all locomotion is 
 a motion from one place to another, there are different 
 kinds of locomotion, such as flying, walking, jumping, 
 and the like. And not only so, but walking itself is 
 of different kinds; for the starting-point and the 
 goal are not the same in the whole course, and in a 
 part of it, or in one part of the course and in another ; 
 nor is it the same thing to cross one line as to cross 
 another; for it is not only that a person crosses a 
 line, but the line which he crosses is in a certain 
 place, and one line is in a different place from 
 another. 
 
 The subject of motion has been accurately dis- 
 cussed in another treatise'. Motion is apparently 
 not complete in any and every period of time; on 
 the contrary, most motions are incomplete and diffe- 
 rent in kind, inasmuch as the starting-point and the 
 goal constitute a difference of kind. Pleasure on the 
 other hand seems to be complete or perfect of its 
 kind in any and every period of time. 
 
 It is clear then that motion and pleasure must be 
 distinct from one another, and that pleasure is some- 
 thing which is whole and perfect. 
 
 Another reason for holding this view is that 
 motion is impossible except in a period of time, but 
 pleasure is not; for the pleasure of a moment is a 
 whole. 
 
 * <t>v(riK^ axpSatris, Books in. sqq. 
 
CHAP. III.] OF ARISTOTLE. 325 
 
 It is clear from these considerations that pleasure 
 is not rightly described as a motion or process of 
 production, for such a description is not appropriate 
 to all things but only to such as are divisible into 
 parts and are not wholes. For there is no process of 
 production in an act of sight or in a mathematical 
 point or in a unit, nor is any one of these things a 
 motion or a process of production. It follows that 
 there is no such process in pleasure, as it is a whole. 
 
 Again, every sense exercises its activity upon its Chap. iv. 
 own object, and the activity is perfect only when the of'a perfect 
 sense itself is in a sound condition, and the object is activity. 
 the noblest that falls within the domain of that sense ; 
 for this seems to be preeminently the character of 
 the perfect activity. We may say that it makes no 
 difference whether we speak of the sense itself or 
 of the organ in which it resides as exercising the 
 activity; in every instance the activity is highest 
 when the part which acts is in the best condition, and 
 the object upon which it acts is the highest of the 
 objects which fall within its domain. Such an activity 
 win not only be the most perfect, but the most 
 pleasant; for there is pleasure in all sensation, and 
 similarly in all thought and speculation, and the 
 activity wiU be pleasantest when it is most perfect, 
 and it will be most perfect when it is the activity of 
 the part being in a sound condition and acting upon 
 the most excellent of the objects that fall within its 
 domain. 
 
 Pleasure perfects the activity, but not in the 
 same way in which the excellence of the sense or of 
 the object of sense perfects it, just as health is the 
 
326 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK X. 
 
 cause of our being in a healthy state in one sense and 
 the doctor is the cause of it in another. 
 
 It is clear that every sense has its proper pleasure ; 
 for we speak of pleasant sights, pleasant sounds and 
 so on. It is clear too that the pleasure is greatest 
 when the sense is best, and its object is best ; but if 
 the sentient subject and the sensible object are at 
 their best, there will always be pleasure so long as 
 there is a subject to act and an object to be acted upon. 
 When it is said that pleasure perfects the activity, 
 it is not as a state or quality inherent in the subject 
 but as a perfection superadded to it, like the bloom 
 of youth to people in the prime of life. 
 
 So long then as the object of thought or sensation 
 and the critical or contemplative subject are such as 
 they ought to be, there will be pleasure in the exercise 
 of the activity ; for this is the natural result if the 
 agent and the patient remain in the same relation to 
 each other. 
 topossi- It may be asked then, How is it that nobody feels 
 
 contmuous pleasure continuously? It is probably because we 
 pleasure, gj.^^ weary. Human beings are incapable of con- 
 tinuous activity, and as the activity comes to an end, 
 so does the pleasure; for it is a concomitant of the 
 activity. It is for the same reason that some things 
 give pleasure when they are new, but give less 
 pleasure afterwards; for the intelligence is called 
 into play at first, and applies itself to its object with 
 intense activity, as when we look a person full in the 
 face in order to recognize him, but afterwards the 
 activity ceases to be so intense and becomes remiss, 
 and consequently the pleasure also fades away. 
 
CHAP. IV.] OF ARISTOTLE. 327 
 
 It may be supposed that everybody desires plea- 
 sure, for' everybody clings to life. But life is a 
 species of activity and a person's activity displays 
 itself in the sphere and with the means which are 
 after his own heart. Thus a musician exercises his 
 ears in listening to music, a student his intellect in 
 speculation, and so on. 
 
 But pleasure perfects the activities ; it therefore'' 
 perfects life, which is the aim of human desire. It is 
 reasonable then to aim at pleasure, as it perfects life 
 in each of us, and life is an object of desire. 
 
 Whether we desire life for the sake of pleasure or Chap. v. 
 pleasure for the sake of life, is a question which may anTiUe!^ 
 be dismissed for the moment. For it appears that 
 pleasure and life are yoked together and do not 
 admit of separation, as pleasure is impossible with- 
 out activity and every activity is perfected by plea- 
 sure. 
 
 If this be so, it seems to follow that pleasures are Keasnres 
 
 ' "^ of different 
 
 of different kinds, as we hold that things which are irinda. 
 different in kind are perfected by things which are 
 themselves different in kind. For this is apparently 
 the rule in the works of nature or of art, e.g. animals, 
 trees, pictures, statues, a house, or a piece of furniture. 
 Similarly we hold that energies which are different in 
 kind are perfected by things which are also different 
 in kind. 
 
 Now the pleasures of the intellect are different 
 from the pleasures of the senses, and these again are 
 different in kind from one another. It follows that 
 
 ' Beading ort. " Beading 8^. 
 
328 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK X. 
 
 the pleasures which perfect them will also be dif- 
 ferent. 
 
 This conclusion would appear also to result from 
 the intimate connexion of each pleasure with the 
 activity Avhich it perfects. For the activity is in- 
 creased by its proper pleasure, as if the activity is 
 pleasant, we are more likely to arrive at a true 
 judgment or an accurate result in any matter. It is 
 BO e.g. with people who are fond of geometry ; they 
 make better geometricians and understand the various 
 problems of geometry better than other people. It 
 is so too with people who are fond of music or 
 architecture or any other subject; their progress in 
 their particular subject is due to the pleasure which 
 they take in it. Pleasure helps to increase activity, 
 and that which helps to increase a thing must be 
 closely connected with it. Where things then are 
 different in kind, the things which are closely con- 
 nected with them will also be different in kind. 
 Pleasure TMs becomes still clearer when we observe that 
 
 yity*"'^ the pleasures which spring irom one activity are 
 impediments to the exercise of another. Thus people 
 who are fond of the flute are incapable of attending 
 to an argument, if they hear somebody playing the 
 flute, as they take a greater pleasure in flute-playing 
 than in the activity which they are called to exercise 
 at the moment; hence the pleasure of the flute- 
 playing destroys their argumentative activity. Much 
 the same result occurs in other cases, when a person 
 exercises his activity on two subjects simultaneously; 
 the pleasanter of the two drives out the other, 
 especially if it be much the pleasanter, until the 
 
CHAP, v.] OF ARISTOTLE. 329 
 
 activity of the other disappears. Accordingly, if we 
 take intense delight in anything, we cannot do any- 
 thing else at all. It is only when we do not care 
 much for a thing that we do something else as well, 
 just as people who eat sweetmeats in the theatres do 
 so most when the actors are bad. 
 
 As the pleasure then which is proper to an Pleasures 
 activity refines it and gives it greater permanence ^opefto 
 and excellence, while alien pleasures impair it, it is "■"'"'"e^- 
 clear that there is a wide diflference between these 
 pleasures. It may almost be said that the pleasures 
 which are alien to it have the same effect as the pains 
 which are proper to it; for the pains which are 
 proper to an activity destroy it, as, when a person 
 finds writing or thinking unpleasant and painful, he 
 does not write or does not think, as the case may be. 
 
 The pleasures and pains then which are proper to 
 an activity have opposite effects upon it. I mean by 
 "proper" such as are the consequences of the activity 
 per se. But it has been already stated that alien 
 pleasures have much the same effect as pain; they 
 are destructive of the activity, although not destruc- 
 tive of it in the same way. 
 
 Again, as the activities differ in goodness and 
 badness, some being desirable, some undesirable, and 
 some neither the one nor the other, so it is with 
 pleasures, as every activity has its proper pleasure. 
 Thus the pleasure which is proper to a virtuous 
 activity is good, and that which is proper to a low 
 activity is vicious. For the desires of what is noble 
 are themselves laudable, the desires of what is dis- 
 graceful are censurable; but the pleasures which 
 
330 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK X. 
 
 reside in the activities are more strictly proper to 
 them than the desires, as the latter are distinct' from 
 the activities in time and nature, but the former are 
 closely related in time to the activities, and are so 
 difficult to distinguish from them that it is a question 
 whether the activity is identical with the pleasure. 
 
 It seems however that pleasure is not the same 
 thing as thought or sensation ; it would be strange if 
 it were so ; but the impossibility of separating them 
 makes some people regard them as the same. 
 
 As the activities then are different, so are the 
 pleasures. Sight is different from or superior to 
 touch in purity, hearing and smell are superior to 
 taste; there is a corresponding difference therefore 
 in their pleasures. The pleasures of the intellect too 
 are different from or superior to these, and there are 
 different kinds of pleasures of the senses or of the 
 intellect. It seems that there is a pleasure, as there 
 is a function, which is proper to every living thing, 
 viz. the pleasure inherent in its activity. If we 
 consider individual living things, we see this is so; 
 for the pleasures of a horse, a dog, and a man are 
 different, and as Heraclitus says, "a donkey would 
 choose a bundle of hay in preference to gold; for 
 fodder is pleasanter to donkeys than gold." 
 
 As the pleasures then of beings who are different 
 in kind are themselves different in kind, it would be 
 reasonable to suppose that there is no difference 
 between the pleasures of the same beings. But there 
 
 ' The desire is distinct from the activity in time, as being 
 antecedent to it, and in nature, as being less complete in itself. 
 
CHAP, v.] OF ARISTOTLE. 331 
 
 is a wide difference, at least in the case of men ; the 
 same things give pleasure to some people and pain 
 to others, to some they are painful and hateful, to 
 others pleasant and lovable. This is true of sweet 
 things ; the same things do not seem sweet to a person 
 in a fever and to a person in good health, nor does 
 the same thing seem hot to an invalid and to a person 
 in a good physical condition. It is much the same 
 with other things as weU. 
 
 But in all these cases it seems that the thing Relation of 
 really is what it appears to the virtuous man to be. aifa^'"* 
 But if this is a true statement of the case, as it seems '"'*°®' 
 to be, if virtue or the good man qua good is the 
 measure of everything, it follows that it is such 
 pleasures as appear pleasures to the good man that 
 are really pleasures, and the things which afford him 
 delight that are really pleasant. It is no wonder if 
 what he finds disagreeable seems pleasant to some- 
 body else, as men are liable to many corruptions and 
 defilements ; but such things are not pleasant except 
 to these people, and to them only when they are in 
 this condition. 
 
 It is clear then that we must not speak of 
 pleasures which are admitted to be disgraceful as 
 pleasures, except in relation to people who are 
 thoroughly corrupt. But the question remains, Among 
 such pleasures as are seen to be good, what is the 
 character or nature of the pleasures that deserve to 
 be called the proper pleasures of Man ? It is plain, 
 I think, from a consideration of the activities ; for 
 the activities bring pleasures in their train. Whether 
 then there is one activity or there are several be- 
 
332 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK X. 
 
 longing to the perfect and fortunate man, it is the 
 pleasures which perfect these activities that would be 
 strictly described as the proper pleasures of Man. All 
 other pleasures are only in a secondary or fractional 
 sense the pleasures of Man, as are all other activities. 
 
 Chap. Ti After this discussion of the kinds of virtue and 
 appiness. fjjgjj^gijjp ^nd pleasure it remains to give a sketch of 
 
 p. 5. happiness, since we defined happiness as the end of 
 
 human things. We shall shorten our account of it if 
 we begin by recapitulating our previous remarks. 
 
 We said that happiness is not a moral state ; for, 
 if it were, it would be predicable of one who spends 
 his whole life in sleep, living the life of a vegetable, 
 or of one who is utterly miserable. If then we 
 cannot accept this view if we must rather define 
 . Happiness happiucss as an activity of some kind, as has been 
 
 vity. said before, and if activities are either necessary 
 
 p- 16. and desirable as a means to something else or 
 desirable in themselves, it is clear that we must 
 define happiness as belonging to the class of activities 
 which are desirable in themselves, and not desirable 
 as means to something else; for happiness has no 
 want, it is self-sufiicient. 
 
 Again, activities are desirable in themselves, if 
 nothing is expected from them beyond the activity. 
 This seems to be the case with virtuous actions, as 
 the practice of what is noble and virtuous is a thing 
 desirable in itself. It seems to be the case also with 
 such amusements as are pleasant, we do not desire 
 them as means to other things; for they often do us 
 harm rather than good by making us careless about 
 our persons and our property. Such pastimes are 
 
CHAP. VI.] OF ARISTOTLE. 333 
 
 generally the resources of those whom the world calls 
 happy. Accordingly people who are clever at such 
 pastimes are generally popular in the courts of 
 despots, as they make themselves pleasant to the 
 despot in the matters which are the objects of his 
 desire, and what he wants is to pass the time 
 pleasantly. 
 
 The reason why these things are regarded as 
 elements of happiness is that people who occupy high 
 positions devote their leisure to them. But such 
 people are not, I think, a criterion. For a high 
 position is no guarantee of virtue or intellect, which 
 are the sources on which virtuous activities depend. 
 And if these people, who have never tasted a pure 
 and liberal pleasure, have recourse to the pleasures of 
 the body, it must not be inferred that these pleasures 
 are preferable; for even children suppose that such 
 things as are valued or honoured among them are 
 best. It is only reasonable then that, as meu and 
 children differ in their estimate of what is honourable, 
 so should good and bad people. 
 
 As has been frequently said, therefore, it is the 
 things which are honourable and pleasant to the 
 virtuous man that are really honourable and pleasant. 
 But everybody feels the activity which accords with 
 his own moral state to be most desirable, and accord- 
 ingly* the virtuous man regards the activity in 
 accordance with virtue as most desirable. 
 
 Happiness then does not consist in amusement. 
 It would be paradoxical to hold that the end of 
 
 ' Reading 817. 
 
334 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK X. 
 
 human life is amusement, and that we should toil and 
 suffer all our life for the sake of amusing ourselves. 
 For we may be said to desire all things as means to 
 something else except indeed happiness, as happiness 
 is the end or perfect state. 
 
 It appears to be foolish and utterly childish to 
 take serious trouble and pains for the sake of 
 amusement. But to amuse oneself with a view to 
 being serious seems to be right, as Anacharsis says; 
 for amusement is a kind of relaxation, and it is 
 because we cannot work for ever that we need 
 relaxation. 
 Beiaxation. Relaxation then is not an end. We enjoy it as a 
 means to activity ; but it seems that the happy life is 
 a Ufe of virtue, and such a life is serious, it is not 
 one of mere amusement. We speak of serious' 
 things too (for serious things are virtuous) as better 
 than things which are ridiculous and amusing, and of 
 the activity of the better part of man's being or of 
 the better man as always the more virtuous. But 
 the activity of that which is better is necessarily 
 higher and happier. Anybody can enjoy bodily plea- 
 sures, a slave can enjoy them as much as the best of 
 men ; but nobody would allow that a slave is capable 
 of happiness unless he is capable of hfe" ; for happi- 
 ness consists not in such pastimes as I have been 
 speaking of, but in virtuous activities, as has been 
 already said. 
 
 1 The argument depends upon the connexion between o-TrouSi; 
 "seriousness" and airovSaios, which here hovers in meaning be- 
 tween "serious" and ''virtuous." 
 
 " i.e. the life of a free Athenian citizen. 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 335 
 
 If happiness consists in virtuous activity, it is only Chap. vn. 
 reasonable to suppose that it is the activity of the ^Xtolis 
 highest virtue, or in other words, of the best part of activity. 
 our nature. Whether it is the reason or something 
 else which seems to exercise rule and authority by a 
 natural right, and to have a conception of things 
 noble and divine, either as being itself divine or as 
 relatively the most divine part of our being, it is the 
 activity of this part in accordance with its proper 
 virtue which will be the perfect happiness. 
 
 It has been already stated ^ that it is a speculative Happiness 
 activity, i.e. an activity which takes the form of tiveaeti- 
 contemplation. This is a conclusion which would ^'*^' 
 seem to agree with our previous arguments and with 
 the truth itself; for the speculative is the highest 
 activity, as the intuitive reason is the highest of our 
 faculties, and the objects with which the intuitive 
 reason is concerned are the highest of things that can 
 be known. It is also the most continuous; for our 
 speculation can more easily be continuous than any 
 kind of action. We consider too that pleasure is an 
 essential element of happiness, and it is admitted 
 that there is no virtuous activity so pleasant as the 
 activity of wisdom or philosophic reflexion; at all 
 events it appeairs that philosophy possesses pleasures 
 of wonderful purity and certainty, and it is reasonable 
 to suppose that people who possess knowledge pass 
 
 1 The reference is not clear; Sir A. Grant suggests, p. 21, 
 IL 16 — 18; but the general drift of Aristotle's argument in Book 
 VI. has tended to show the speculative or intellectual nature of 
 happiness. 
 
336 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS LBOOK X. 
 
 their time more pleasantly than people who are 
 seekers after truth. 
 
 Self-sufficiency too, as it is called, is preeminently 
 a characteristic of the speculative activity ; for the 
 wise man, the just man, and all others, need the 
 necessaries of life; but when they are adequately 
 provided with these things, the just man needs 
 people to whom and with whom he may do justice, 
 so do the temperate man, the courageous man and 
 everyone else ; but the wise man is capable of specU' 
 lation by himself, and the wiser he is, the more 
 capable he is of such speculation. It is perhaps 
 better for him in his speculation to have fellow- 
 workers ; but nevertheless he is in the highest degree 
 self-sufficient. 
 
 It would seem too that the speculative is the only 
 activity which is loved for its own sake as it has no 
 result except speculation, whereas from all moral 
 actions we gain something more or less besides the 
 action itself. 
 Happiness Again, happincss, it seems, requires leisure; for 
 ' the object of our business is leisure, as the object of 
 war is the enjoyment of peace. Now the activity of 
 the practical virtues is displayed in politics or war, 
 and actions of this sort seem incompatible with 
 leisure. This is absolutely true of military actions, 
 as nobody desires war, or prepares to go to war, for 
 its own sake. A person would be regarded as 
 absolutely bloodthirsty if he were to make enemies 
 of his friends for the mere sake of fighting and 
 bloodshed. But the activity of the statesman too is 
 incompatible with leisure. It aims at securing some- 
 
CHAP. VII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 337 
 
 thing beyond and apart from politics, viz. the power 
 and honour or at least the happiness of the statesman 
 himself and his fellow citizens, which is diflFerent irom 
 the political activity and is proved to be diflFerent by 
 our search for it as something distinct. 
 
 If then political and military actions are pre- 
 eminent among virtuous actions in beauty and 
 grandeur, if they are incompatible with leisure and 
 aim at some end, and are not desired for their own 
 sakes, if the activity of the intuitive reason seems to 
 be superior in seriousness as being speculative, and 
 not to aim at any end beyond itself, and to have its 
 proper pleasure, and if this pleasure enhances the 
 activity, it follows that such self-sufficiency and power 
 of leisure and absence of fatigue as are possible to a 
 man and all the other attributes of felicity are found 
 to be realized in this activity. This then will be the 
 perfect happiness of Man, if a perfect length of life is 
 given it, for there is no imperfection in* happiness. 
 But such a life will be too good for Man. He will 
 enjoy such a life not in virtue of his humanity but in 
 virtue of some divine element within him, and the 
 superiority of this activity to the activity of any other 
 virtue will be proportionate to the superiority of this 
 divine element in man to his composite or material 
 nature. 
 
 If then the reason is divine in comparison -with Happiness 
 the rest of Man's nature, the life which accords with tive reason. 
 reason will be divine in comparison with human life 
 in general Nor is it right to follow the advice of 
 people who say that the thoughts of men should not 
 be too high for humanity or the thoughts of mortals 
 w. N. E. 22 
 
338 THE, NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK X. 
 
 too high for mortality; for a man, as far as in him 
 lies, should seek immortality and do all that is in his 
 power to live in accordance mth the highest part of 
 his nature, as, although that part is insignificant in 
 size, yet in power and honour it is far superior to all 
 the rest. 
 
 It would seem too that this is the true self of 
 
 everyone, if a man's true self is his supreme or 
 
 better part. It would be absurd then that a man 
 
 should desire not the life which is properly his own 
 
 but the life which properly belongs to some other 
 
 being. The remark already made will be appropriate 
 
 here. It is what is proper to everyone that is in its 
 
 nature best and pleasantes.t for him. It is the life 
 
 which accords with reason then that wiU be best and 
 
 pjtg,santest for Man, as a man's reason is in the 
 
 highest sense himself. This will therefore be also the 
 
 happiest life. 
 
 CHAp.vm. It is only in a secondary sense that the life which 
 
 fi^f^nd accords with other, i.e. nonrspeeutative, virtue can be 
 
 non-apecn- ga,i(j iq \)q happy ; for the activities of such virtue are 
 
 lative vir- ^^•' ' , . . , --. . 
 
 tue. human, they have no dwvne element. Our just or 
 
 courageous actions or our virtuous actions of any 
 kind we perfoi-m in relation to one another, when we 
 observe the law of propriety in contracts and mutual 
 services and the various moral actions and in our 
 emotions. But all these actions appear to be human 
 affairs. It seems too that moral virtue is in some 
 respects actually the result of physical organization 
 and is in many respects closely associated with the 
 emotions. Again, prudence is indissolubly linked to 
 moral virtue, and moral virtue to prudence, since the 
 
CHAP. VIII.] OF ARISTOTLE. 339 
 
 principles of prudence are determined by the moral 
 virtues, and moral rectitude is determined by pru- 
 dence. But the moral virtues, as being inseparably 
 united with the emotions, must have to do with the 
 composite or material part of our natwre, and the 
 virtues of the composite part of our nature are 
 human, and not divine, virtues. So too therefore is 
 the life which accords with these virtues ; so too is 
 the happiness which aceords with them. 
 
 But the happiness which consists in the exer- 
 cise of the reason is separated from these emotions. 
 It must be enough to say so much about it; for to 
 discuss it in detail would take us beyond our present 
 purpose. It would seem too to require external 
 resources only to a small extent or to a less extent 
 than moral virtue. It may be granted that both will 
 require the necessaries <rf life and will require them 
 equally, even if the politician devotes more trouble 
 to his body and his bodily welfare than the philo- 
 sopher; for the difference wiU not be impoHant. 
 But there will be a great difference in respect of their 
 activities. The liberal man will want money for the 
 practice of liberality, and the just man for the requital 
 of services which have been done him ; for our wishes, 
 vmless they are manifested in actions, must always be 
 obscure, and even people who are not just pretend 
 that it is their wish to act justly. The courageous 
 man too will want physical strength if he is to 
 perform any virtuous action, and the temperate man 
 liberty, as otherwise it will be impossible for him or 
 for anybody else to show his character. 
 
 But if the question be asked whether it is the 
 
 22—2 
 
340 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK X. 
 
 purpose or the performance that is the surer determi- 
 nant of virtue, as virtue implies both, it is clear that 
 both are necessary to perfection. But action requires 
 various conditions, and the greater and nobler the 
 action, the more numerous will the conditions be. 
 
 In speculation on the other hand there is no need 
 of such conditions, at least for its activity ; it may 
 rather be said that they are actual impediments to 
 speculation. It is as a human being and as living in 
 society that a person chooses to perform virtuous 
 actions. Such conditions then will be requisite if he 
 is to live as a man. 
 
 That perfect happiness is a species of speculative 
 activity will appear from the following consideration 
 Happiness among others. Our conception of the Gods is that 
 Gods* they are preeminently happy and fortunate. But 
 what kind of actions do we properly attribute to 
 them? Are they just actions? But it would make 
 the Gods ridiculous to suppose that they form con- 
 tracts, restore deposits, and so on. Are they then 
 courageous actions? Do the Gods endure dangers 
 and alarms for the sake of honour? Or liberal 
 actions? But to whom should they give money? It 
 would be absurd to suppose that they have a currency 
 or anything of the kind. Again, what wiU be the 
 nature of their temperate actions? Surely to praise 
 the gods for temperance is to degrade them; they 
 are exempt from low desires. We may go through 
 the whole category of virtues, and it will appear that 
 whatever relates to moral action is petty and un- 
 worthy of the Gods. 
 
 Yet the Gods are universally conceived as living 
 
CHAP. Vin.] OF ABISTOTLE. 341 
 
 and therefore as displaying activity ; they are 
 certainly not conceived as sleeping like Endymion. 
 If then action and still more production is denied to 
 one who is alive, what is left but speculation? It 
 follows that the activity of God being preeminently 
 blissful will be speculative, and if so then the human 
 activity which is most nearly related to it wiU be 
 most capable of happiness. 
 
 It is an evidence of this truth that the other 
 animals, as being perfectly destitute of such activity, 
 do not participate in happiness ; for while the whole 
 life of the Gods is fortunate or blessed, the life of men 
 is blessed in so far as it possesses a certain resem- 
 blance to their speculative activity. But no other 
 animal is happy, as no other animal participates at all 
 in speculation. 
 
 We conclude then that happiness is coextensive 
 with speculation, and that the greater a person's 
 power of speculation, the greater will be his happi- 
 ness, not as an accidental fact but in virtue of the 
 speculation, as speculation is honourable in itself. 
 Hence happiness must be a kind of speculation. 
 
 Man, as being human, will require external pros- Chap. ix. 
 perity. His nature is not of itself sufficient forS»PP™«s* 
 
 ^ " and exter- 
 
 speculation, it needs bodily health, food, and care of nai goods. 
 every kind. It must not however be supposed that, 
 because it is impossible to be fortunate without 
 external goods, a great variety of such goods will be 
 necessary to happiness. For neither self-sufficiency 
 nor moral action consists in excess; it is possible to 
 do noble deeds without being lord of land and sea, 
 as moderate means will enable a person to act in 
 
342 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK X. 
 
 accordance with Tirtua We may clearly see that it 
 is so; for it seems that private persons practise 
 virtue not less but actually more than persons in 
 high place. It is enough that such a person should 
 possess as much as is requisite for virtue; his life 
 will be happy if he lives in the active exercise of 
 virtue, Solon* was right perhaps in his description 
 of the happy man as one " who is moderately supplied 
 with external goods, and yet has performed the 
 noblest actions," — such was his opinion' — "and had 
 lived a temperate life," for it is possible to do one's 
 duty with only moderate means. It seems too that 
 Anaxagoras did not conceive of the happy man as 
 possessing wealth or power when he said that he 
 should not be surprised if the happy man proved a 
 puzzle in the eyes of the world ; for, the world judges 
 by externals alone, it has no perception of anything 
 that is not external. 
 
 The opinions of philosophers then seem to agree 
 with our theories. Such opinions, it is true, possess 
 a sort of authority ; but it is the facts of life that are 
 the tests of truth in practical matters, as they possess 
 a supreme authority. It is right then to consider the 
 doctrines which have been already advanced in 
 reference to the facts of life, to accept them if they 
 harmonize with those facts, and to regard them as 
 mere theories if they disagree with them. 
 Happiness Again, he whose activity is directed by reason 
 
 and reason. 
 
 ^ It is possible that Aristotle alludes to the story in Hero- 
 dotus i. ch. 30. 
 
 « The words <ar aero come in strangely; Lambiaus conjectured 
 (OS olav Tf. 
 
CHAP. IX.j OF ARISTOTLE. 343 
 
 and who cultivates reason, and is in the best, i.e. the 
 most rational, state of mind is also, as it seems, the 
 most beloved of the Grods. For if the Gods care at all 
 for human things, as is believed, it will be only 
 reasonable to hold that they delight in what is best 
 and most related to themselves, i.e. in reason, and 
 that they requite with kindness those who love and 
 honour it above all else, as caring for what is dear to 
 themselves and performing right and noble actions. 
 
 It is easy to see that these conditions are found 
 preeminently in the wise man. He will therefore be 
 most beloved of the Gods. We may fairly suppose 
 too that he is most happy ; and if so, this is another 
 reason for thinking that the wise man is preeminently 
 happy. 
 
 Supposing then that our sketch of these subjects ^^"- ^• 
 and of the virtues, and of friendship too, and pleasure, ana pra<^* 
 has been adequate, are we to regard our object ast^g"*™' 
 achieved ? Or are we to say in the old phrase that 
 in practical matters the end is not speculation and 
 knowledge but action? It is not enough to know the 
 nature of virtue; we must endeavour to possess it, 
 and to exercise it, and to use whatever other means 
 are necessary for becoming good. 
 
 Now, if theories were sufficient of themselves to 
 make men good, they would deserve to receive any 
 number of handsome rewards, as Theognis said, and 
 it would have been our duty to provide them. But it 
 appears in iact that, although they are strong enough 
 to Encourage and stimulate youths who are already 
 liberally minded, although they are capable of bring- 
 ing a soul which is generous and enamoured of 
 nobleness under the spell of virtue, they are impotent 
 
344 THE NIOOMACHEAN ETHICS [BOOK X. 
 
 to inspire the mass of men to chivalrous action ; for 
 it is not the nature of such men to obey honour but 
 terror, nor to abstain from evil for fear of disgrace 
 but for fear of punishment. For, as their life is one 
 of emotion, they pursue their proper pleasures and 
 the means of gaining these pleasures, and eschew the 
 pains which are opposite to them. But of what is 
 noble and truly pleasant they have not so much as a 
 conception, because they have never tasted it. Where 
 is the theory or argument which can reform such 
 people as these? It is difficult to change by argu- 
 ment the settled features of character. We must be 
 content perhaps if, when we possess all the means by 
 which we are thought to become virtuous, we gain 
 some share of virtue. 
 Formation Somc pcoplo think that men are made good by 
 ous charac- nature, others by habit, others again by teaching. 
 *™" Now it is clear that the gift of Nature is not in 
 
 our own power, but is bestowed through some divine 
 providence upon those who are truly fortunate. It is 
 probably true also that reason and teaching are not 
 universally efficacious; the soul of the pupil must 
 first have been cultivated by habit to a right spirit of 
 pleasure and aversion, like the earth that is to 
 nourish the seed. For he whose life is governed by 
 emotion would not listen to the dissuasive voice of 
 reason, or even comprehend it, and if this is his state, 
 how is it possible to convert him? Emotion, it 
 seems, never submits to reason but only to force. It 
 is necessary then to presuppose a character which is 
 in a sense akin to virtue, which loves what is noble 
 and dislikes what is dishonourable. But it is difficult 
 for one to receive from his early days a right inclina- 
 
CHAP. X.J OF ARISTOTLE. 345 
 
 tion to virtue, unless he is brought up under virtuous 
 laws; for a life of temperance and steadfastness is 
 not pleasant to most people, least of all to the young. 
 It follows that the nurture and pursuits of the yowng 
 should be regulated by law, as they will not be 
 painful, if he becomes used to them. 
 
 But it is not enough, I think, that we should 
 receive a right nurture and control in youth; we 
 must practise what is right and get the habit of 
 doing it when we have come to man's estate. We 
 shall need laws then to teach us what is right, and so 
 to teach us all the duty of life; for most people are 
 moved by necessity rather than by reason, and by 
 the fear of punishment rather than by the love of 
 nobleness. 
 
 Accordingly it is sometimes held that legislators 
 should on the one hand invite and exhort men to 
 pursue virtue because it is so noble, as they who 
 have been already trained in virtue will pay heed to 
 them, and on the other hand, if they are disobedient 
 and degenerate, should inflict punishments and chas- 
 tisements on them and utterly expel them, if they are 
 incurable ; for so the good man who lives by the rule 
 of honour will obey reason, and the bad man whose 
 aim is pleasure must be chastened by pain like a 
 beast of burden. Hence too it is said that the pains 
 ought to be such as are most opposed to a person's 
 favourite pleasures. 
 
 If ihea, as has been said, he who is to be a good 
 man should receive a noble nurture and training and 
 then should live accordingly in virtuous pursuits and 
 never voluntarily or involuntarily do evil, this result 
 will only be attained if we live, so to say, in accord- 
 
346 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK X. 
 
 ance with reason and right order resting upon 
 force. 
 
 Now the authority of a father does not possess 
 such force or compulsion, nor indeed does that of any 
 individual, unless he is a king or some such person. 
 But the law has a compulsory power, as being itself 
 in a sense the outcome of prudence and reason ; and 
 whereas we hate people who oppose our inclinations, 
 even if they are right in so doing, we do not feel the 
 law to be grievous in its insistence upon virtue. 
 The state It is Only in the state of Lacedaemon and a few 
 ^n* "*"^ other states that the legislator seems to have under- 
 taken to control the nurture and pursuits of the 
 citizens. In the great majority of states there is an 
 absolute neglect of such matters, and everybody 
 lives as he chooses, "being lawgiver of wife and 
 children" like the Cyclops'. 
 
 It is best then that the state shoidd undertake 
 the control of these matters and should exercise it 
 rightly and should have the power of giving eflFect to 
 its control. But if the state altogether neglects it, it 
 would seem to be the duty of every citizen to farther 
 the cause of virtue in his own children and friends, 
 or at least to set before himself the purpose of 
 furthering it. It would seem too from what has been 
 said that he will be best able to do this, if he has 
 learnt the principles of legislation ; for the control of 
 the state is clearly exercised through the form of 
 laws, and is good if the laws are virtuous. Whether 
 they are written or unwritten laws, and whether they 
 are suited to the education of an individual or 
 
 > Homer's description of the Cyclopean life (to which Aris- 
 totle frequently refers) is found in the Odyssey ix. 114, 115. 
 
CHAP. X.J OF ARISTOTLE. 347 
 
 of a number of people is apparently a matter of 
 indifference, aa it is in music or gymnastic or other 
 studies. For as in a state it is law and custom which 
 are supreme, so in a household it is the paternal 
 precepts and customs, and all the more because of 
 the father's relationship to the members of his family, 
 and of the benefits which he has conferred upon 
 them; for the members of a family are naturally 
 affectionate and obedient to the father from the first. 
 
 . Again, there is a superiority in the individual as inOivid- 
 against the general methods of education; it is much the education. 
 same as in medicine where, although it is the general 
 rule that a feverish patient needs to be kept quiet 
 and to take no food, there may perhaps be some 
 exceptions. Nor does a teacher of boxing teach all 
 his pupils to box in the same style. 
 
 It would seem then that a study of individual 
 character is the best way of perfecting the education [/^ 
 of the individual, as then everyone has a better 
 chance of receiving such treatment as is suitable. 
 Still the individual case may best be treated, whether 
 in medicine or in gymnastic or in any other subject, 
 by one who knows the general rule applicable to all 
 people or to people of a particular kind; for the 
 sciences are said to deal, and do deal, with general 
 laws. At the same time there is no reason why even 
 without scientific knowledge a person should not be 
 successful in treating a particular case if he has made 
 an accurate, although empirical, observation of the 
 results which follow from a particular course of 
 treatment, as there are some doctors who seem to be 
 excellent doctors in their own cases, although they 
 would be unable to reUeve anybody else. 
 
MB THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [bOOK X. 
 
 Need of Nevertheless if a person wishes to succeed in art 
 
 ofk^^ia- or speculation, it is, I think, his duty to proceed to a 
 Hon. universal principle and to make himself acquainted 
 
 with it as far as possible; for sciences, as has been 
 said, deal with universals. Also it is the duty of 
 any one who wishes to elevate people, whether they 
 be few or many, by his treatment, to try to learn the 
 principles of legislation, if it is laws that are the 
 natural means of making us good. So in education 
 it is not everybody — it is at the most only the man of 
 science — who can create a noble disposition in all 
 who come to him as patients, as it is in medicine or 
 in any other art which demands care and prudence. 
 Is it not then our next step to consider the 
 sources and means of learning the principles of 
 legislation? It may be thought that here as else- 
 where we must look to the persons v;ho practise the 
 principles, i.e. to statesmen; for legislation, as we 
 p. 346. saw, is apparently a branch of pohtics. But there is 
 this difference between politics and all other sciences 
 and faculties. In these it is the same people who are 
 found to teach the faculties and to make practical 
 use of them, e.g. doctors and painters ; whereas in 
 Sophists, pohtics it is the sophists who profess to teach, but it 
 is never they who practise. The practical people are 
 the active statesmen who would seem to be guided in 
 practical life by a kind of faculty or experience 
 rather than by intelUgence; for we see that they 
 never write or speak on these subjects, although it is 
 perhaps a nobler task than the composition of forensic 
 or parhamentary speeches, nor have they ever made 
 their own sons or any other people whom they care 
 for into statesmen. Yet it might be expected that 
 
CHAP. X.] OP ARISTOTLE. 349 
 
 they should do so, if it were in their power, for they 
 could not have bequeathed any better legacy to 
 their state, nor is there anything which they would 
 have preferred for themselves or their dearest iriends 
 to such a faculty. Still it must be admitted that 
 experience does much good; otherwise people could 
 not be made statesmen by familiarity with politics. 
 It follows that, if people desire to understand politics, 
 they need experience as well as theory. 
 
 These sophists however who are lavish in their 
 professions appear to be far from teaching statesman- 
 ship; in fact they are absolutely ignorant of the 
 sphere or nature of statesmanship. If it were not so 
 they would not have made statesmanship identical 
 with, or inferior to, rhetoric; they would not have 
 thought it easy work to form a legislative code by 
 merely collecting such laws as are held in high 
 repute ; they would not have supposed that all they 
 have to do is to make a selection of the best laws, as 
 if the selection itself did not demand intelligence, and 
 as if a right judgment were not a thing of the 
 greatest difficulty in legislation no less than in music. 
 For it is only such persons as possess experience of 
 particular arts who can form a correct judgment of 
 artistic works, and understand the means and manner 
 of executing them, and the harmony of particular 
 combinations. Inexperienced persons on the other 
 hand are only too glad if they are alive to the fact 
 that a work has been well or badly executed, as in 
 painting. But laws are like the artistic works of 
 political science. How then should a mere collection 
 of laws make a person capable of legislating, or of 
 deciding upon the best laws? It does not appear 
 
350 mCOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK, X. 
 
 that the study of medical books makes people good 
 doctors; yet medical books affect not only to state 
 methods of treatment, but to state the way of curing 
 people, and the proper method of treating particular 
 cases by classifying the various states of health. But 
 all this, although it seems useful to the experienced, 
 is useless to those who are ignorant of medical 
 science. It may be supposed then that collections of 
 laws and polities would be useful to those who are 
 capable of considering and deciding what is right or 
 wrong, and what is suitable to particular cases ; but 
 if people who examine such questions have not the 
 proper frame of mind, they wiU find it impossible to 
 form a right judgment unless indeed by accident, 
 although they may gain a more intelligent apprecia- 
 tion of them. 
 
 As previous writers have failed to investigate the 
 subject of legislation, it will perhaps be better to 
 examine it ourselves, and indeed to examine the 
 whole subject of polities', in order that the philosophy 
 of human life may be made as complete as possible. 
 
 Let us try then, first of all, to recount such 
 particular opinions as have been rightly expressed 
 by our predecessors, then, in view of the polities 
 which we have collected, to consider the preservatives 
 and destructives of states and of particular polities, 
 and the reasons why some polities are good and others 
 bad. For when we have considered these, it will 
 perhaps be easier to see what kind of polity is best, 
 and what is the best way of ordering it and what 
 are its laws and customs. 
 
 > Aristotle thus paves the way for his Politics, a treatise 
 published later than the NicomacJiean Ethics. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 ^schylas 63 
 
 Agamenmoa 84 (note), 269 
 Agathon 180, 183 
 AlcmsBon 60, 165 (note) 
 AmpMpolis 159 
 Anacharsis 334 
 Anaxagoras 188, 342 
 Anaxandrides 233 
 Aphrodite 222 
 Argives 88 
 Athenians 117 
 
 Bias 138 
 
 Boeotians 85 (note) 
 Brasidas 159 
 
 Ccilypso 56 
 
 Garcinas 226 
 
 Celts 81 
 
 Cercyon 226 
 
 Coionean citizens 85 (note) 
 
 Crete 30 
 
 Croesus 23 (note) 
 
 Cydops 346 
 
 Delos 20 
 
 Demodicus 228 
 
 Diomedes 83, 167, 246 (note) 
 
 Elensioian mysteries 63 (note) 
 Empedocles 213, 215, 247 
 Endymion 341 
 Epidiarmus 297 
 Erii*yle 60 (note), 165 (note) 
 Eteocles 295 
 Endoxus 29, 316 
 Euripides 60, 165, 190, 244, 247, 
 295, 303 
 
 Enripns 296 
 Eventis 234 
 
 Glauous 167 
 Graces 150 
 
 Hector 83, 84, 204 
 
 Helen 56, 57 
 
 HeracHtus 40, 211, 247, 330 
 
 Hermes 85 
 
 Herodotus 23 (note), 342 (note) 
 
 Hesiod 6, 150, 240, 247 (note), 
 
 288, 308 
 Homer 56, 71, 83, 84, 86, 92, 
 
 107, 167, 186, 204, 223, 246, 
 
 268, 269, 846 
 
 IliiiinlSO 
 
 Eing-Archon 267 (note) 
 
 Lacedffimon 30, 346 
 LacedsBmonians 88, 117, 129, 205 
 Lesbian architecture 172 
 
 Megarians 111 
 • Merope 63 
 Milesians 228 
 MUo45 
 
 Neoptolemus 208, 231 
 Niobe 218 
 
 Odysseus 56 (note), 208, 231 
 Olympian games 19, 216 
 
 Pericles 184 
 Persia 160, 268 
 
352 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Phalaris 219, 221 
 
 Phidias 186 
 
 PhUootetes 208 (note), 226 
 
 Phooylides 137 (note) 
 
 Pittacus 74 (note), 295 
 
 Plato 5, 6, 9, 25 (note), 39, 205 
 
 (note), 317, 319 
 Polyclitus 186 
 Polydamas 83 
 Polynioes 295 
 Priam 23, 26, 204 
 Protagoras 283 
 Pythagoreans 10, 47, 150, 306 
 
 (note) 
 
 Bhadamanthus 150 
 
 Sardanapalus 7 
 Satyrus 218 
 Scythians 68 
 
 Sicyonians 88 
 Simonides 25 (note), 103 
 Socrates 84, 129, 201, 202, 206, 
 
 215 
 Solon 23, 342 
 Sophocles 208, 231, 312 
 Speusippus 10, 238 
 
 Thales 188 
 
 Thebana 117 (note) 
 
 Theodeotes 226 
 
 Theognis 137 (note), 306, 314, 
 
 343 
 Thetis 117 
 Trojans 83 
 Tydides 83 
 
 Xenophantus 226 
 
 Zeus 117, 268, 286 
 
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