BERKEtEY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA -.5- \A<^ ^ Digitized by the Internet Arciiive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/browneethicsOOarisrich <^-&-J--3-/--^ I q o ri BOHN'S CLASSICAL LIBRARY. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS r;» AEISTOTLE. GEORGE BELL & SONS LONDON : YORK ST. COVENT GARDEN AND NEW YORK : 66 FIFTH AVENUE CAMBRIDGE: DEIGHTOn' BELL & CO. THE NIOOMACHEAN ETHICS ARISTOTLE. TRANSLATED, WITH NOTES, ORIGINAL & SELECTED; AN ANALYTIOAl. INTRODUCTION ; AND QUESTIONS FOR THE USE OF STUDENTS. By B. W. BKOWNE, M.A., Ph. D., Hen, FeUovo qf King's College, London; and Canon of Wdlt LONDON : GEORGE BELL & SONS. 1895. Reprinted from Stereotype platen. ^J^ \' (OiU^ TO THE HEADER. Is" giTing to the public this translation of the Nicoma- cnean Ethics of Aristotle, the Translator acknowledges the obligations he is under to former versions. He has not hesitated to adopt such portions of them as appeared to him to convey accurately the meaning of the author, whilst he has entirely retranslated such as he thought failed in this respect. Every passage, however, has been in all cases care- ftdly compared with the original. The text generally fol- lowed has been that of Cardwell, but Bekker's has been also consulted, and his readings adopted wherever they appeared preff^.rable. The notes are partly original, partly selected. It has been the object of the Translator not to overburthen the text with them, but only to give as many as he thought necessary to render the subject intelligible, and to explain or illus- trate such difficulties as were incapable of being removed by translation. The Analysis and Questions, which are added, were thought likely to be a valuable assistance tc the student. It is hoped that this work will be found useful to that numerous class of readers who, though unacquainted with the language of ancient Greece, are anxious to study the works of the best writers of antiquity in, as nearly as possible, their own words. For such further information as is not contained in the 'aotes, the reader is referred to the comment-aries of Michel ct a tV TO THE READER. the notes of Cardwell, tlie edition of the eighth and niuth books by Fritzsch, Brewer's edition of the Ethics, Blakesley*s Life of Aristotle, the philosophical articles in the Encyclo- paedia Metropolitana, Whateley's Logic, and Ritter's History of Philosophy,^ in which latter work will be found an able and lucid analysis of the Etliics of Aristotle, as well as a complete investigation of all the systems of the ancient philosophers. The ingenious and able defence of the sophists IE. the eighth voluine of Grote's History of Greece may be advantageously studied with reference to the bearing of their doctrines on the subject of etliical philosophy. • Traaslatcd bv A. J. \V. Morrifoa. ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION Ethics, according to the theory of Aristotle, formed bub a subdivision of the great and comprehensive science of poli- tics. Man is a political or sociai being ; that science, there- fore, which professed to investigate the subject of human good, would study the nature of man, not only as an indi- vidual, but also in his relation to his fellows, as a member of a family, and as a member of a state, or political com- munity. Aristotle, therefore, following out this view, divides poli- tics into three parts : Ethics, Economics, and Politics strictly so called. Ethics, therefore, or the science of individual good, must be the ground-work of the rest ; families and states are composed of individuals ; unless, therefore, the parts be good, the whole cannot be perfect. The develop- ment, theref(H-e, of the principles of man's moral nature must necessarily precede, and be an introduction to an investigation of the principles of human society. This is the place which ethical science occupies in Aristotle's system : it is the introduction to politics, or the science of social life. It is plain, from these considerations, that ethics, accord- ing to Aristotle, form a subdivision of a great practical subject ; he does not therefore consider it necessary to examine into the abstract nature of good, but only to pursue the investigation so far as it relates to man. So utterly unconnected with his subject does he consider any ideal or absolute standard of good, that he even denies that the knowledge or contemplation of it can be in any way usefu' to the study of that good which falls within the province of human nature, and is therefore attainable by man. In this, as well as in man^" other respects, the pra iical nature of his a2 fl ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION. mind is strongly contrasted with the poetical idealism of his great master Plato. The foundation of Aristotle's system of ethics is deeply laid in his psychological system. On the nature of the human soul the whole fabric is built up, and depends for its support. According to our author, we are bom with a natural capacity for receiving virtuous impressions, and for forming virtuous habits : and his conception of the nature of this capacity is so high a one, that he does not hesitate to term it " natural virtue." We are endowed with a moral sense {(uaOrjaLc), a perception of moral beauty and excellence, and with an acuteness on practical subjects {deivorrjc), which, when cultivated, is improved into (ppovrjtnc (pinidence or moral wisdom). From all these considerations, therefore, it is plain that, according to Aristotle, virtue is the law under which we are born, the law of nature, that law which, if we would attain to happiness, we are bound to fulfil. Happiness, in its highest and purest sense, is our "being's end and aim ;" and this is an energy or activity of the soul according to the law of virtue : an energy of the purest of the capacities of the soul, of that capacity which is proper and pecuHar to man alone ; namely, intellect or reason. Designed, then, as man is for virtuous energies, endowed with capacities for moral action, with a natui-al taste and appreciation for that which is morally beautiful, with a natural disposition or instinct, as it were, to good acts ; virtue, and therefore happiness, becomes possible and attainable. Had this not been the case, all moi'al instruction would be useless. That for which nature had not given man a capacity would have beeu beyond his reach ; for that which exists by nature can never by custom be made to be otherwise. But this natural disposition or bias is, according to Aris- totle, a mere potentiality ; it is possessed, but not active, not energizing. It is necessary that it should be directed by the will, and that the anIII in its turn should be directed to I, right end by deliberate preference ; i. e. by moitd prin- liple. From his behef in the existence of this natural lapacity, and this bias or inclination towards virtue, and noreover from his behoving that man was a free and w-oluntary agent, Aristotle necessarily holds the responsibihty jof man. Man has power over his indi\idual actions to dc ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION. tn \ or to abstain. By repeated acts, habits are formed either of virtue or vice ; and, therefore, for his whole character when foiTned, as well as for each act which contributes to its fonnation, man is responsible. Not that men have always power over their acts, when their character is formed ; but what he contends for is, that they have power over them whilst their moral character is in process of formation; and that, therefore, they must, in all reason, be held respon- sible for the permanent eflfects which their conduct in par- ticular acts has produced, and which they must at every step have seen gradually resulting. What then is virtue 1 In the solution of that part of this question which has not already been answered, the practical nature of Aristotle's mind is exhibited in an eminent degi'ee. It has been seen that it is a habit, that it is based upon the natural capacities of the human soul, tliat it is formed and established by a voluntary agent acting under the guidance of deliberate preference or moral principle. But to these conditions it is also necessaiy to add, what is the end or object at which the habit is to aim. ICxperiencc, then, that great practical guide in human affairs, teaehes us what that end is. An induction of , instances shows that it is a mean between excess and defect ;"| not, indeed, an absolute mean, but a relative one ; that is, one relative to the internal moral constitution, and to the ' external circumstances and condition, of the moral agents. ■ Of this relative mean, each man must judge for himself by \ the light of his conscience, and his moral sense, purified by ' moral discipline, and enlightened by education. The moral pliilosopher can only lay down general j)rinciples for man'^j • guiclahce, and each individual man must do the rest. The : ~casuist may profess to be more particular, he may profess to i lay down accurate special rules of conduct, which will meet i e\'cry individual case, but his professions \vill be unfulfilled : ; he will, from the very nature of the subject, which, being a i jBlQral one, will not admit of mathematicaLexactiuiss,. fail of making morals a definite and exact science. There must, and will always be, room left for the moral sense and" prac- tical wisdom of each indi\ddual, to exercise in each case of moral action its judicial fanctions. If, in tliis ca«e, or in Riiy other, you deal with men in this way, you are dealing viii ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION. with them, as children ; and, therefore, according to Ai-ia* totle's views, as being incapable of perfect moral action. The discussion of these virtues or mean states, both moral and intellectual, forms, it will be found, a very important portion of this treatise. We shall find, amongst them, many virtues which belong to man in his political rather tlian in his individual character : — magnificence, that virtue of the rich, which to an Athenian mind appeared nearly aliin to patriotism : — the social qualities, which we should scarcely in these days formally elevate into the rank of virtues, but which, nevertheless, practically, we value almost as highly, and which contribute so much to the happiness of every-day life : — justice, not only that universal justice which implies the doing to every one according to the laws of God and man, and therefore is synonymous with virtue, but also that particular vii'tue which is more especially exercised by one who is intrusted by the constitution of his country with administrative or executive authority: — and, lastly, Mend- ship, that law of sympathy, and concord, and love between the good and virtuous, clearly and inseparably connected with — nay, based upon, originating in, and springing out of — a reasonaljle self-love, which is not, indeed, strictly speaking, a virtue, but indispensable to virtue and human happiness. Friendship is a subject on which the mind of Greece especially loved to dwell. It pervades many of her historical and poetical traditions ; it is interwoven with many of her best institutions, her holiest recollections. In one of its forms, that of hospitality, it was the bond which united Greeks in one vast family, as it were, even in times of bitter hostility. No Greek, therefore, could have considered that a moral philosopher had fully accomplished his task, and finished his work, if the discussion of this subject had not formed part of his treatise. And when we find that Aris- totle places friendship so high, as to say that its existence would supersede and render unnecessary even justice, and that the true friend loves his friend for that Mend's sake, and for that motive alone, it seems to approach in some degree to the Christian rule of charity, which teaches us to love our neighbour as ourselves, — to that love which, based on principle, and not merely on instinct, is on divine authority said to be " the fulfilling of the law." ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION. h In the practical consideration of each individual virtue, Aristotle necessarily treats of moral and intellectual ^drtue separately from each other ; but we must not suppose, for that reason, that he thought they could exist separately. According to his view, moral virtue implies the due regula- tion of our moral nature, with all its appetites, instincts, and passions ; and this state only exists when they are subordi- nate to the dominion and control of the reasoning faculties. Again, the reason does not act with all the vigour of which it is naturally capable, unless our moral nature is in a well- regulated state. Hence the different parts of human nature reciprocally act and react upon each other, every good reso- lution carried into effect, every act of self-control and moral discipline, increases the vigour of the pure I'eason, and renders the highest faculty of our nature more and more able to perform its work. Again, the more powerful the reason becomes, the fewer external obstacles, such as vice presents to its energies, the intellect meets with, the more effectually does it influence the moral nature, and strengthen, confirm, and render permanent the moral habits. Thus continence is gradually improved into temperance ; and if human nature were capable of attaining perfection, man would attain ta that ideal standard which Aristotle terms heroic virtue. But this is above human nature, and is impossible to attain, just as its oj)posite, brutality, is never found, so long as human nature continues in its normal condition, but only in cases where bodily mutilation, or moral perversion, or the influence of barbarism, has so far degraded the human being, that he may be considered as having entirely ceased to be a man. There is another important subject connected with morals of which it was absolutely necessary for Aristotle to treat fully. Pleasure, as a motive to action, had been so inter- woven with other philosophical systems, that the disciple ol' the Aristotelian ethical philosophy could not be content with- out the place which it ought to occupy being accurately defined. Pleasure, then, had been held by Plato and others to be a motion or a generation, and therefore of a transitory or transient nature : this Aristotle denies, and affirms it to be a whole, indivisible, complete, perfect, giving a perfection, a finish, as it were, to an energy ; being, as he says in ordei I ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION. to illustrate its nature, what tlie bloom is to youth. But if so, pleasure must be active, energetic ; it cannot be simply rest : and yet the testimony of mankind, if we observe what they propose to themselves as pleasure, would be in favour of the notion of its being rest, in some sense or other. How, then, were these apparent inconsistencies to be reconciled 1 In the following manner. It is rest as regards the body, but energy as regards the mind. It is an activity of the soul — not a mere animal activity. This distinction enables us to mark the difference between true and false pleasures. Those which are consequent upon the mere activity of our corporeal nature are low and unreal ; those which attend, upon the energies of our intellectual nature are true and perfect, and worthy of the dignity of man. But as happiness is an energy or acti\-ity of the soul according to its liighest excellence, and that this must be that which is the characteristic property of man, namely, pure intellectual excellence, it is evident that contemplative happiness is superior to every other kind, and constitutes the chief good of man. Although happiness must be sought for and arrived at by the formation of habits of practical virtue, still all other virtues must be pursued with a view to the final gratification of our intellectual nature ; the end of the cultivation of all virtue is to fit us for the pure and unmixed enjoyment of contemplation. Contemplative enjoyment is the most perfect, most permanent, and most independent of external helps and appliances. If, then, after all that has been said respecting moral practical virtue, contemplation is the end and object of man, his chief good, his highest happiness, why has Aristotle said so much of the practical nature of human happiness 1 why has he attributed so much importance to the formation of the moral character 1 why has he left the subject of contem- plative happiness to be briefly discussed at the yerj conclu- gion of his treatise 1 The answer to these questions is plain. Until the moral iiiaracter is formed, man is unfit, not only for the enjoyment, but ako for forming a correct conception and appreciation of ihe happiness which is derived from contemplation. Place before his eyes in the commencement of his search after Happiness intellectual contemplation, as the end at which he ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION. x\ is aim mg, and he "would neither be able to understai d its nature, nor estimate its value. It is by the gradual perfec- tion of our moral nature, and by tliis method only, tliat we are brought into that state in which the intellectual principle is able to act purely and uninterruptedly. Tlie improvement of our moral and intellectual faculties will go on parallel to one another. Every evil habit conquered, every good habit formed, will remove an obstacle to the energy of the intellect, and assist in invigorating its -nature. Begin with contem- plation, and we shall neither find subjects for it, of a nature sufficiently exalted to insure real happiness, nor be in a condition to derive happiness from such subjects, if suggested to us. Begin with moral training, and we shall attain to higher capacities for intellectual happiness, whether derived from the contemplation of abstract truth, or of the perfec- tions and attributes of the Deity.* The Christian philoso- pher will easily understand the value of this method of teaching ; for he knows that it is revealed to us, that in divine things moral training is the way to intellectual culti- vation, that the heart is the way to the understanding — " If any man will do God's will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God." (St. John vii. 17.) It is plain that, in this respect, the way which the heathen moralist has pointed out to the attainment of happiness is that which is most in accordance with the principles of human nature, and therefore with the laws of Him who is both the author of revelation, and of the moral constitution of man. It only remains now to point out how Aristotle connects the subject of ethics with that of which he considers it a subordinate division ; namely, politics. The idea of a state implies a human society united together upon just, moral, and reasonable principles. These principles are developed and displayed in its institutions; its end and object is the greatest good of the body corporate ; and, therefore, so far as it can be attained consistently with this primary end, the greatest good of each family and individual. Now, on the morality of the individual members, the morality, and there- * We may see from this how far the Aristotelian theory of happiness and man's highest good harmonizes with that of Plato, and, at the same ^ime, how far more practical is the method which Aristotle recommends for the attainment of it. xii ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTION. fore tlie welfare and happiness, of the body depends ; for aa in a state, i. e. a free state, the source of power is ultimately the people, on the moral tone of the people, the character of the institutions framed by their representatives must depend. Hence a state must recognize the moral cultui-e and educa- tion of the people as a duty. Private systems of education may, doubtless, possess some advantages, such as their superior capability of being moulded and adapted to the particular circumstances of individual cases, but still they are inferior to a public one, in unilbrmity, in the power of enforcing their authority, and in producing great and extensive results. As, therefore, the elements of moral virtue must be incul- cated and implanted by moral education, the individual has a right to demand that provision be made for this by well- regulated public institutions, and, in order to attain such institutions, the science of politics or social life must be investigated or systematized. But besides, in order even to secure the advantages of private education, whatever these advantages may be, it is necessaiy that every one who wouH conduct and administer such a system efficiently should study the general poHtical principles of education, and thus endea- vour to fit himself for legislating respecting them. On all accounts, therefore, the study of morals is not complete, unless that of politics is superadded, and the latter study should be pursued, not only by the statesman, but by the private citizen. The above general outline of Aristotle's ethical system, in which the several parts are designedly not presented to the view in the order in which he has treated them, but displayed in their relative bearings upon each other, will, it is hoped, be sufficient to prepare the mind of the student for the accurate analysis of each cliapter separately wliicb foiiowr. HDl BOOK I. Introductory. — A question lies at tlie very threshold of fehe investigation ; namely, whether there is any chief good {gwrmnwm bonum), and if there is, whether it be, or can be brought within the reach of the capacities of man. Having ansvrered these questions in the affirmative, Aristotle pro- ceeds to show what its nature and essence is. That all, or nearly all, agree in caUing it happiness, is clear ; but this is not enough ; it must be defined, its properties analyzed, its nature explained. After, therefore, examining and s-'ating what opinions have been generally held respecting it, as well popularly as by philosophers, he proceeds to define and explain his own idea respecting it, and to defend the accu- racy of his views by comparing it with those of others. Certain questions arising out of the method of discussion which he has pursued, but of no practical importance, such, for example, as the well-known saying of Solon, are briefly alluded to ; and respecting them he comes to no very satisfactory conclusion. And, lastly, the theory which he has adopted leads him to state, in a few words, the general principles of man's psychical constitution. I. — 1. Every art, system, course of action, and deliberate preference, aims at some good. Hence the good is defined " that which all aim at." 2. There are differences of ends; namely, energies and works. 3, 4. The ends of the master-arts are more eligible than the ends of those subordinate to them. 5 This is the case, even though the end of the master* art is an energy, and that of the subordinate art a work. II. — 1. There is some end of human action which is desired for its own sake. 3, 4, 5. It is the end of that which is the master-science in the highest sense ; i. e. the political. The political science proved to be the chief science by several reasons and exam pies. 2. The knowledge of the end usefid. Kiv ANALYSIS OF [book i 0. The subject of ' the end " btlong^ to moral, and theiO' fore to political philosophy. III. — 1, 2. We must not exj ect too great accuracy in mibjects of moral iuvestigation. 3. These subjects having to do with contingent matter, the conclusions arrived at; must be of the same kind. 4, 5. The student, therefore, must be one who is willing to be content with this method of proof, and therefore must be an educated person. 6. He must, therefore, not be young, because the young are inexperienced in the affairs of life. 7. By the word young is meant young in character. 6. The object of this treatise is not knowledge, but practice. lY. — 1. "What is the aim of the political science, and the highest of all good ? 2. All agree in calling it happiness, but differ as to its definition. 3. 4. Popular and philosophical theories on the subject are at variance. Certain notions respecting it, including that of the " idea, * enumerated. 4. Aristotle proposes to consider the most reasonable. 5. 6. Of the two methods of arguing ; namely, — The synthetical and analytical ; Aristotle chooses the latter, for the following reasons : — 6. Things are known in two ways : (1.) Absolutely ; (2.) Relatively to ourselves. In morals we must begin with the things kno^vn to our- selves ; i. e. the phenomena, and work backwards from facta to causes ; sometimes it is even sufficient to know the facts without the causes. 7. The student of ethics should listen to the advice ol Hesiod. V. — 1. The majority derive their notions respecting hap- piness from the lives they lead. 2. These are four : — (1.) The vulgar. (2.) The active. (3.) The contemplative. (4.) The money-getting. 3. The vulgar consider that happiness consists in sensual pleasure. This is the life of the brute creation. u CHXF. Ti.] ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. xv 4, 5. Tlie active think happiness is honourable distinction. This is not the chief good, (1.) Because it resides in the honourers rather than in the honoured. (2.) Because it is sought for the sake of virtue. 6. Is virtue then the chief good ? No, for a man may possess vii^ue, and yet not live an active life. 7. The contemplative life is omitted, and reserved for the last book. 8. The money-getting think wealth is happiness. This life does violence to our natural constitution. Money is useful as a means, but is not an end. VI. — 1. The chief good is not the ideal good.^ Aristotle apologizes for denying the ti-uth of Plato's theory. 2. Plato did not allow the existence of ideas of things in which we predicate priority and posteriority. The good is predicated in these. 3. A universal idea could be predicated in only om? category. The good is predicated in all the categories. 4. Of things under one idea there is but one science ; of goods there are many sciences. 5. The ideal good, and the good of which it is the idea, must be in their essence identical. 6. The theory, therefore, of the Pythagoreans and of Speusippus is far more reasonable. 7. 8. It may be objected to Aristotle's argument, that goods are of two kinds : those "per se," and those "propter alia.'" Now Plato's theory applies to the former. 9, 10. To this it may be answered — (1.) That even goods, "p&r se," do not come under our definition. (2.) If the species contain under it no individuals, the theory is foolish. 11. Why then is the term "good " applied to all goods ? Probably from analogy. » In the original, two words of very similar meaning are made use of^ namely, idea and tldog. Now iSka is the original archetypal form, which, according to Plato, existed "from all eternity : tUog is the existing form or resemblance to the idea, which is visible to us. Although the eternal nature of the Platonic Ic'sa forbids us to call it an abstract idea, yet the relation between icia and tll^oQ is precisely that which subsists between the abstract and concrete. XVI ANALYSIS OF [book i. 12 — 16. After all, if there was an .ideal good, it would to practically useless. VII. — 1 — 3. Happiness lias been shown to be the chief good, as being the end of the master-science. It is now proved to be so, because it is the end of aD human actions. 4, 5. There are three kinds of ends, of which the last is that which is sought for its own sake alone, and happinesa is this. 6, 7. Happiness is also the chief good, because it is self- sufficient. 8. Its definition anived at in the following manner : — Happiness is the virtue of man, qua man. "We shall discover man's vui:ue by seeing what his tpyov is. 9, 10. His tpyou must be something peculiar to him. This is the practical life of a being which possesses reason, 11. Such a being may be either obedient to reason, or have it and use it. We must, therefore, take that which is in energy, i. e. activity. 12 — 16. The work of a good man, therefore, is an energy according to %irtue ; if there are more virtues than one, according to the best viiiiue. Lastly, must be added the condition " in a perfect hfe." Hence the definition of happiness : — " An energy of the «oul according to the best virtue in a perfect life." VIII. — 1. Aristotle confirms the correctness of his defini- tion of happiness by comparing it with the opinions of his predecessors. 2. Goods have been divided by the Pythagoreans into external goods, goods of the body, and goods of the soul. The goods of the soul have been always considered the highest. 3. Aristotle defines happiness as a good of the soul. 4. The happy man has been said to live well, and to do well. The definition of Aristotle is almost identical. 5 — 8. Others have said that either one virtjie or all virtue is happiness. Aristotle says that happiness is not only virtue, but a virtuous energy. CHAt. X.] ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. snii 9, 10. A fourth class have made pleasure happiness. Aj-istotle makes happiness in its essence, and "per sej* pleasant. 11. The energies of virtue, in fact, unite in themselves all the qualities enumerated in the Dehaa inscription. 12 — 14. External goods cannot make one happy, but it is impossible, or at least not easy, to j»erform virtuous ener- gies without a certain quantity of them. IX. — 1. Is happiness got by learning, or habit, or exer- cise, or by the allotment of God, or by chance ? 2. Whether it is the gift of God, does not belong to the present inquiry. 3. It is at any rate certain that it can be attained by learning and care. 4 — 6. It cannot come by chance : (1.) Because nature effects her work by the best means. (2.) From its very definition. (3.) It is the end of the political science. 7. Brutes cannot be called happy. Nor children except from hope. 8. Why (iioQ reXeiog is added. X. — 1. The necessity of adding the condition h /3/« reXeib) leads to the consideration of Solon's saying that wa ought to look to the end of life.^ 2. The saying of Solon may be taken in two senses : — A man is happy when he is dead. He may then be safely said to have been happy. The first of these involves an absurdity. 3, 4. The second leads to further questions : — (1.) May not a man be called happy whilst alive ? ■ In adding the condition Iv /3ty rtXtcy to his definition of happiness, Aristotle seems to have been animated by an earnest desire to invest hap- piness with a property of permanence, fixedness, and stability. He wished to represent the happy man as beyond the reach of any liability to change. He saw that this was impossible in the case of human beings, but there is nothing unphilosophical in assuming a theoretical standard of this kind, even though practically unattainable, any more than there is in physics in laying down the laws of matter and motion. In morals we are well accustomed to recognize the principle that perseverance to the end in a course of obedience is required in order to obtain our final reward. " When the righteous turneth away from his righteousness, all his right- eousness that he hath done shall not be mentioned," &c. — Ezek. xviii. And again, " He that endureth unto the end, the same shall be saved,"— Matt. X. S rrfli ANALYSIS OF ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. - [book i. (2.) Are not tlie dead affected by the fortunes of the living? 5. With regard to the first of these, it is absurd to be able to say that a man Itas been happy, and yet not to be able to say so when he is actually enjojang that happiness. 6 — 1 3. But is external prosperity a part of happiness ? It is, but only to a certain extent ; for vii'tuous energies are very independent of it, and more permanent than anything. 14. Therefore, whilst a happy man energizes, he may be pronounced happy, qua man. XI. — 1, 2. As to the second question, Aristotle decides that a man niay he said to be unhappy on account of the misfortunes of his descendants. 3, 4. Or he may really be affected by them in a slight degree, in the same way as horrors, not acted, but related, affect us at the theatre. 5. But still they cannot make the happy miserable, or the miserable happy. XII. — 1. Philosophers divided goods into honourable, praiseworthy, and cwufteir. Happiness cannot be a Ivvaixir, because dvyajjLUQ can be abused. 2 — 4. It cannot belong to the class of things praised, because praise implies reference to a higher standard. There cannot be a higher standard than the cliief good. 5. Therefore happiness belongs to things honoured. XIII. — 1 — 4. As happiness is an energy of the soul according to virtue, we must know, (1) what virtue is ; (2) what the soul is. 5, 6. The soul is divided first into two parts, the rational and the irrational. 7 — 9. The irrational into the vegetative and the appe- titive. 10 — 14. The rational soul into the properly rational, and that which obeys reason. According to another principle of division, tb* part obe- dient to reason may be considered as belonging »!C the irra- tional souL 15. Yirtue is therefore twofold : — Intellectual, belonging to the rational soul. Moral, belonging to that which obeys reason. &! tiM BOOK II. InJb'oductory. — Aristotle has prepared tlie student for the contents of this book, which consist of an inquiry into the origin and nature of moral virtue j firstly, by defining hap- piness as an energy of the soul according to virtue j and, secondly, by dividing the viii;ues into moral and intellectual, in accordance with his assumed division of the human soul. The consideration of the moral virtues takes precedence of that of the intellectual, because the formation of moral habits, and the consequent acquisition of moral virtue, must be the first step to the unimpeded energy of the intellect, and therefore to the attainment of intellectual virtue. It Villi be observed, that, as the foundation on which to build up his moral system, Aristotle assumes the existence in man of certain capacities for virtue, which he denominates, at the conclusion of the sixth book, v(nKri apery (natural virtue). These he conceives may be improved \)j education and matured by habit, and thus become " virtue proper." Thus, although man does not by nature possess virtuous habits, or even the commencements of these habits, still he is capable of receiving virtuous impressions by instruction, and of forming habits by performing acts of virtue and obedience. Thus, according to Aristotle, " Virtue is the law of our nature, under which lnw we are bom." The order in which the questions connected with the subject of moral virtue are treated of, is (1.) The means by which virtue is attained. (2.) Its nature and definition. (3.^ An induction of particular instances. (4.) Certain practical rules. I. — 1. Intellectual virtue is principally (though not en- tirely, for there is such a thing as " genius ") produced and increased by teaching. 2, 3. Moral virtue, as its etymology implies, by habit. Moral virtue is not innate — (1.) Because that which is innate cannot be changed by habit. b tx ANAJiYSIS OF [book ri. 4. (2.) In things innate, the capacities exist in -ca prior to the energies ; in virtue, the case is tha reverse. 5. (3.) The practice of legislators bears testimony to tho truth of this statement. 6. (4.) Two opposite effects, virtue and vice, are due to one and the same cause, but natural causes can- not produce opposite effects. 7 — 9. Hence we must prefer energies of a certain quality, . as on them the character of the habits depends. (^J ** II. — 1, 2. Assuming for the present that moral acts must ^"""^ be done according to the dictates of right reason, and reserv- ing that subject for the sixth book, let us consider the nature of the acts themselves. 3, 4. Warning the student again not to expect too much exactness in ethics. 5 — 7. Looking at the question practically, we may ob- serve — (1.) That acts, which avoid excess and defect, produce virtue, whilst excess and defect destroy it. €, 9. (2.) Those acts which produce virtue are in their ^^ turn produced by virtue. ^) • III. — 1. Pleasure and pain are the tests of moral habits being formed or not, because moral virtue is conversant with pleasures and pains. Tliis position is proved in the following way :— (1.) Because men commit sin for the sake of pleasure, and abstain from what is right through dread of pain. 2. From this first reason Aristotle infers the justice of Plato's remark on the importance of a sound early education. 3. (2.) Virtue is convei-sant with actions and feelings, and these are attended with pleasure and pain. 4. (3.) Punishments cure by pain, and cures are effected by contraries. (4.) Through the pursuit of pleasures and pains, habits are made better or worse. 5. Hence vuiiue has been thought by some to be uTraBsia. ij. (5.) Pleasure and pain are, after all, the final causes of choice and aversion. ?. (6.) Our ideas of pleasure and pain have from child- hood become as it were in^-ained in our natui'e. CHAP. VI.] ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. jud 8. (7.) We make, more or less, pleasure and pair the rule of our actions ; and on these our habits depend. 9, 10. (8.) Virtue is shown in struggling with difficulty, ^— and nothing is so difficult to resist as pleasure. ^j^IV. — 1. It may be asked, what is meant by saying that we become just by performing just actions; are we not then already just, as in the case of the arts? This question is answered — 2. (1.) By observing that this is not the case in the arts, for a man is not a grammarian, unless he speaks grammatically, because he understands the rules of grammar. 3. (2.) Because the cases are not parallel; as in the arts we only consider the excellence of the produc- tion, in morals we look to the character and motives of the person. The three requisites, then, for a moral act are CI.) Knowledge, (2.) Deliberate preference on its own account, (3.) Fixedness and stability. 4 — 6. A man, therefore, is called virtuous if he acts on virtuous principles ; and to do this requires practice. 7. The masses, however, think that theory without prac- ^^ice will be sufficient to make them virtuous. l^iy V. — 1 — 4. What, then, is the genus of virtue % In that division of the soul in which moral virtue resides, there are only three properties ; namely, passions, capacities, and habits. 5, 6. Now virtue and vice are not passions. (1.) Because we are not called good or bad for our pas- sions. !2.) We are not praised or blamed for them. 3.) Virtue implies deliberate preference, passion does not. (4.) We are said to be moved by our passions, but rft*- posed by virtues or vices. 7. They are not capacities. (1.) For the first and second reasons given above, (2.) Because our capacities are innate. ^r 8. Therefore virtue must be a habit. fC) ^i' — 1> 2. What is the difTcrentia of virtue I ^^-> b^ ® uU ANALYSIS OF Lbook lu AM excellence makes tliat of wliich it is tlie excell^ice good, and also its epyov. This is seen to be the case in the arts. Therefore, the case must be the same "«^th moral excel- lence, i. e. virtue. 3. Now, everything continuous and divisible implies more, less, and equal. 4, 5. The equal is the mean between the other two, ancJ is^ither absolute or relative. 6. Now, every scientific man will seek the relative mean, and avoid the extremes. 7. If this is the case in art and science, a fortiori, virtue will do the same. 8. In actions and feelings, there are an excess, a mean, and a defect, and the mean is relative. 9. Again, we may be wrong in many ways ; but there is only one right way : now, this right way is the mean, and the wrong ways are the excess and defect. "* 0. Virtue, therefore, is " habit founded on, and exer- cismg deliberate preference, in a mean relative to ourselves, defined by right reason, and according to the definition of a mail of moral wisdom." 11. Hence, in its essence, 'vnrtue is a mean, but if consi- dered with reference to the standard of excellence, it is the highest extreme (aKpoTTfo). 12 — 14. It must be remembered, however, that some- actions and feelings do not admit of a mean, and are there- fore in all cases blame-worthy. -- VII. — 1. This chapter contains a catalogue of particular examples illustrating the general principle. 2. (1.) Courage is a mean, on the subject of fear and con- fidence, between rashness and cowardice. 3. (2.) Temperance a mean on the subject of some plea- sures and pains, but especially pleasures, between intemperance and a nameless extreme. 4. (3.) Liberality on the subject of money, between prodi- --^=r-- gality and illiberality. 5. (4.) Magnificence, only on matters of great expense, between vulgar ostentation and meanness. 6. (5.) Magnanimity, on the subject of great honours. _. between empty boasting and little-mindednoaiw. CHAP. IX.] ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. win 7 — 9. (6.) A nameless virtue, on the subject of small ho- nours, between ambition and the absence of it. 10. (7.) Meekness, between irascibility, or passion, and insensibility to the feeling of anger. 11 — 16. (8.) Three several virtues ; namely — (a.) With respect to truth ; truthfulness, between arro- gance and false modesty. {b.) With respect to "the pleasant" in amusement, graceful wit, or easy pleasantry, between ribaldry or buffoonery and clownishness. (c.) With respect to " the pleasant " in the intercourse of life ; friendship, between flattery and the being over-complaisant and moroseness. 17 — 19. (9.) Two mean states in the feelings. (a.) Modesty, between bashfulness and impudence. ^^ (b.) Indignation, between envy and malevolence. (^) "VIII. — 1 — 4. The extremes are in opposition to each other, and the mean to both. 5, 6. But the extremes are more repugmmt to each other than each of them is to the mean. 7 — 9. This may take place either from the nature of the ^„-w means themselves, or from the constitution of the person. ^y - IX. — 1, 2. Aristotle recapitulates briefly the description "■^ of moral virtue, and states that therefore it is difficult of attainment. Hence he gives three useftd practical rules for arriving at the mean. 3. (1.) Go farthest from that extreme which is mos* opposed to the mean. 4. (2.) Struggle against that to which you have the strongest propensity. ^(3.) Beware of pleasure. 6—8. As it is^^imcuit io hit the mean exactly, [deviations are pardonable. No exact casuistical rules I laid down : our moral sense must be our guide. BOOK III. Irti/roductory. — The principle of all moral action is , vrfoaipEaic, i.e. what is commonly termed moral choice, or! the deliberately preferring one act or one course of action I «plir ANALYSIS OF [book tii. / to any other, on sound moral gi'ounds, under the direction • of right reason. It is this which determines the moral ' quality of an act ; it is the principal part of the differential I property which distinguishes the habit of virtue from an- / other. Hence Aristotle now proceeds to treat of this sub- [ ject, and other subjects immediately and intimately connected I with it. ) Now of these, the first, and most important, as lying at i the very threshold of the investigation, is the freedom of the \ himian will. On the establishing of this doctrine depends I the whole question of himian responsibility, and yet it is a \^ doctrine which Aristotle could not assume at once, because I views had been held respecting it which required refutation. I Socrates had held that all the virtues were sciences ; there- I fore, that vice was the result of ignorance ; that no one sins I contrary to knowledge ; and therefore, that vice is involun- 1 tary. Plato held that virtue was voluntary, because the I natural bias of the will was towards good, but that a vicious / state was an unnatural one — a morbid action, as it were, and therefore involuntary. / Aristotle agreed with Plato so far as to maintain that a / bias towards virtue is the normal condition of the will He I saw, also, that when habits are formed, they are often beyond 1* our power, because they have become a second nature ; and that the reason why we are responsible for them is because we are responsible for the original formation of them ; but still he believes that the will is necessarily free. He supports this view by many arguments, and amongst them, by the common-sense view of the case, as shown in the practice of legislators. His argument is somewhat of the same kind as that of Bishop Butler (Analogy, Part I. c. vi.), where he says, that whatever our abstract opinion may be respecting the doctrine of necessity as influencing practice, there can be no doubt that men deal with one another as if they were free agents, nor could civil society hold together on any other principles. Educate a child in the principles of fatalism, and however delighted he may be at first with his freedom from responsibility, he would soon discover the error in which he had been brought up, immediately he came abroad into the world, and would do somewhat very soon, for which he would be delivered over into the hands of civil justice. CHA^ I.] ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. xxv The tliird book commences with an analysis of the nature of the hovaiov and aicovatov ] Aristotle then proceeds to discuss the subject of Trpoaipeaig. Next, as Trpoaipecrig is subsequent to the deliberative process, deliberation is next treated of ; and lastly, the subject of the will. These points occupy the first five chapters ; and here Michelet considers the first part of the treatise to terminate. He divides the Ethics into three parts ; the first of which treats of the summum bonum ; the second, of the virtues in detail ; the third, of the instrumentals to virtue. I. — 1. The consideration of the voluntary and involuntaiy necessary. (1.) Because voluntary acts are praised or blamed , involimtary acts pardoned or pitied. (2.) Because it will be useful to legislators to do so. 2. Involuntary acts are of two kinds — (1.) TO. (iiq, (2.) T(x II ayvouiv. By /5tata is meant that of which the principle or cause is external. 3, 4. There are also acts of a mixed nature. For example, those which we do fi:om fear of greater evils. 5, 6. These acts most resemble voluntary acts, because the principle of action is in the agent. 7, 8. But abstractedly they are perhaps to be considered involuntary. These acts are, according to circumstances, praised, blamed, or pardoned. 9. There are some acts which nothing should induce us to do. 10. But it is difficult to decide in many cases what we ought to prefer to do, and still more so to abide by our decisions. 11. The points of difference between these a p. iii.l ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. ]xxi 5. By an argument similar to argument (4), Plato proved that pleasure was not the chief good ; for he said that a pleasant life became more eligible by the addition of moral wisdom. 6. That pleasure is a good, because all aim at it, is a vaHd argument, although this does not prove that it is the chief good. Had it only been said that irrational creatures sought pleasure, an objection might have been made to the argu- ment, but not when rational beings are included. 7. Again, there is no force in the objection, " that because pain is an evil, it does not follow that pleasure is a good." Of course it is not necessarily so ; but still it is a probable argument, and experience supports it. III. — 1. Plato says, pleasure is not a good, because it is not a quality ; but, for the same reason, neither happiness nor the energies of virtue would be qualities. 2. Again, he says, that good is definite, but that pleasure admits of degrees. If this objection applies to the act of being pleased, it equally applies to justice, and aU the moral virtues. 3. If it is meant to apply to pleasure abstractedly, then the distinction is forgotten between mixed and unmixed pleasures, for the unmixed are definite, i. e. capable of being defined. But, after all, health is definite, and admits of degrees ; why then should not pleasure be definite, and admit of degrees also 1 4. Again, it is said pleasure is a motion and generation, and motions and generations are imperfect. It is not a motion, for quickness and slowness oelong to every motion. 5. 6. But although we can become pleased quickly or slowly, we cannot /eel pleasure quickly or slowly. 7. It cannot be a generation, because that which is generated is i-esolved into the same elements which pro- duced it. Now those sensations which pleasure generates, pain destroys. Again, it is said pain is a want, plea,3uro the supply of that want. 8. But these wants are corporeal ; therefore, if pV^a^ure Ixxvi ANALYSIS OF [book x. were the supplying of them, the body would feel the plea- sure ; but it is the mind, and not the body which feels it. The truth is, when the want is supplied, pleasure is felt 9, 10. Besides, there are many pleasures wliich neither imply a want to be satisfied, nor a pain to be removed. 11. If reprehensible pleasures be brought forward in proof, it may be answered, that they are not really pleasm*es. 12. Or it may be answered, that the ehgibihty of pleasures depends upon whence they are derived. 13. Or we may say that pleasures differ in kind. 14. This may be Ulustrated by the difierence between a friend and a flatterer. 10, 16. Again, experience proA-es that pieasm-es difier; for we should not choose to be childi-en all our lives, even ii the pleasures of children were the highest possible. And, on the other hand, we shomd be anxious for some tilings, even if tliey brought no jjieasure. 17. It is clear, therefore, That pleasiu'e is not the cliief good. That some pleasures are eligible, and therefore- goods ; but that others arc not so. TV. — 1. Pleasure is, like the act of \ision, perfect at any moment. 2. For this reason, it is not a motion ; as a motion is imperfect at any separate moment of time. 3, 4. This may be illustrated by the process of constructing a building. 5, 6. One cannot form any idea of motion, except as con- nected with place, as well as time. But motion is moi'e properly treated of at length in Aristotle's Physics. 7 — 9. The same ai-guments which prove that pleasure is not a motion also prove that it is not a generation. 10. There is an appropriate pleasure attendant upon every act of perception (atle is his "self,"* and though it may be ' Bishop Butler, when speaking of that which constitutes each man's ■" self," uses similar language, doubtless influenced by the same mode of thought as Aristotle. He says, — " Persons can trace up the existence of themselves to a time when the built of their bodies was extremely small, in comparison of what it is in mature age.*' This leads him to observe, " That we have no means of determining by experience what is the certain bulk of the living being each man calls himself ; and yet till it be deter- mined that it is larger in bulk than the solid elementary particles of matter, which there is no ground to think any natuial power "an dis c.H. IX. J ARISTOTLE'S ETHicm. ^isj 19 — 21. A man may certainly legislate for particular cases, even without scientific knowledge ; but nevertheless a theoretical study of the general principles of legislation will make him a better educator. 22 — 28. How, then, is the science of legislation to be acquired ? The sophists profess to teach it, but have no experience or practical knowledge. The statesman has practical knowledge, but he either does not understand teaching, or at least he does not profess to teach. 29. Is it then sufficient to study digests and collections of laws 1 No ; unless the student has experience and know- ledge enough to guide him in determining which laws are best, and which, therefore, ought to be selected. He must by habit have acquired the power of forming a correct judgment of the relative merits of laws and insti- tutions. 30, 31. Now, this subject has been neglected by previous writers; therefore Aristotle proposes, in a treatise on politics, (1.) To explain what former writers have correctly laid down. (2.) To examine what are the causes of the preservation and destmc-^ion of commonwealths. (3.) To determine wliat is tl\e best form of polity. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE.* BOOK I.— CHAP. I. What ** the Good** is, and what the different kinds of Ends. Every art and every scientific system, and in like 1. manner every course of action and deliberate pre- ference, seems to aim at some good ; and conse- quently " the Good " has been well defined as " that -what to which all things aim at." aya96v \%. But there appears to be a kind of difierence in 2. ends ; for some are energies ; others again beyond Ends differ, some bein^ ' Aristotle in his ethical system takes somewhat lower ground than Plato, inasmuch as the latter investigates what is good, — the former what is good for man ; nevertheless, owing to this very difference, the system of AristotJe is more prac- tical than that of Plato. The chief good is considered by Aristotle to be the end of the political science, by which he understands that science, the object of which is all that relates to the welfare of man. It therefore branches out into three divisions : — Ethics, which treat of the good of the individual ; Economics, of the good of a family ; Politics, properly so called, of the good of a state. Aristotle was the author of three ethical treatises : — (1.) The Nicomachean Ethics, so called either because he dedicated them to his son Nicoma- chus, or because Nicomachus arranged the MS. which his father left : Cicero appears to have considered Nico- machus the author. (2.) The Eudemian, which were ar- ranged and published by his pupil Eudemus. (3.) The " Magna Moralia." It is not improbable that the two iatter treativ"*; were compiled from the notes of Aristotle's pupiU. -' • B 2 ARISTOTLE'S [book i wicrgies, these, certain works ; but wherever there ar^ cer- others ^^^ ^^^^ besides the actior.«, there the works are naturally better than the energies."^ 3. Now since there are many actions, arts, and sciences, it follows tliat there are many ends ; for of medicine the end is health; of ship-building, a sliip ; of generalshij), victory ; of economy, wealth. 4. But whatever of s\ich arts are contained under any Ends of the ^^^ faculty, (as, for instance, under horsemansliip is superior to contained the art of making bridles, and all other those of horse furnitiu'e ; and tliis and the whole art of war subordinate is contained under generalship ; and in the same •"^^- manner other arts are contained under different faculties ;) in all these the ends of the cliief ai^ts are more eligible than the ends of the subordinate ones ; because for the sake of the former, the latter are 5- pursued. It makes, however, no difference whether the energies themselves, or something else besides these, are the ends of actions, just as it would make no difference in the sciences above mentioned. '' The teraj energy, which I have retained as the translation of tvkpyua, requires some explanation. Energy, then, implies an activity or active state ; it is opposed to cvpa/iig, i.e. capa- city, faculty, potentiality, inasmuch as the latter may be dormant, and though capable of improvement, may be left unimproved ; and it is possible for a thing to have the capa- city of being, and yet not to be : as, for example, a coal has the capacity for burning, and yet it may perhaps never do so. Energy implies actual and active existence, not a mere possi- ble or potential one. It is opposed to e^tc, habit, because by means of it habits are acquired and formed. Hence we can see the difference between an energy and a work {tpyov) when considered as ends or final causes of action. Whenever we enter upon a course of action, we have one of two objects in view, — either the action itself, or some production or work to which it leads. For example, a painter paints either merely for the sake of painting, feeling an actual de'.ight in this active exertion of his faculty for its own sake, or in order to produce a picture ; in the former case, his end (r«Xof) is an energy, in the latter a work. An energy, there- fore, is perfect and complete, and has its end in itself, it looks to nothing further, it is eligible for its own sake ; and hence seeing, contemplating, being happy &c., are energies. 3MAP. ii.J ETHICS. CHAP. II. IJliat is " the good'' of Man. If, tlierefore, there is some end of all tli:.'i: we do, 1. wliich we wish for on its own account, and if we The chief \vish for all other tilings on account of tliis, and do ^^?^ '^ * not choose everything for the sake of sometliing else (for thus we should go on to infinity, so that desire would be empty and vain), it is e\'ident that this must be "the good," and the gi-eatest good. Has not, then, the knowledge of this end a great 2. influence on the conduct of life % and, like archers, Knowledge shall we not be more likely to attain that wliich is ^^ ^' useful i-ight, if we have a mark? If so, we ought to endeavour to give an outline at least of its na- ture, and to deteimine to which of the sciences or faculties it beloncfs. Now it would appear to be the end of that which 3. is especially the chief and master science, and this ^^ j^ ^^ seems to be the political science ; for it directs what ^J^^ ° ^^ sciences states ought to cultivate, what individuals political should learn, and how far they should pursue them, science. We see, too, that the most valued faculties are com- ^• prehended under it, as, for example, generalship, economy, rhetoric. Since, then, this science makes h. use of the practical sciences, and legislates re- specting what ought to be done, and what abstained from, its end must include those of the others ; so that this end must be ilie good of man. For al- though the good of an individual and a state be the same, still that of a state appears more important and more perfect both to obtain and to preserve. Td discover the good of an individual is satisfactory, 6. but to discover that of a state or a nation is more noble and divine. Tliis, then, is the object of my treatise, which is of a political kind. b2 ARISTOTLE'S IB'.QK t. CHAP. III. Thai Exactness depends on the nature of the subject, are the qualifications of the Ethical Student. W.hai Exactness depends upon the subject- matter. 1. The subject would be sufficiently discussed, if it were explained so far as the subject-matter allows : for exactness is not to be sought in all treatises aUke, any more than in all productions of mechanic art. But things honourable and things just, the 2. considei-ation of which faUs witliin the province of political science, admit of such vast difference and uncertainty, that they seem to exist by law only, and not in the nature of tilings. Things good have jilso a similar uncertainty, because from them ca- lamities have befallen many. For some, we know, liave perished through wealth, and others through 3. courage. We must be content, then, when treat- ing of, and di'uwing conclusions from such subjects, to exhibit the truth roughly, and in outline ; and when dealing with contingent matter, to draw con- clusions of the same kind. 4. According to the same rule ought we to admit each assertion ; for it is the paii: of an educated man to require exactness in each class of subjects, only so far as the nature of the subject admits ; for it appears nearly the same thing to allow a mathema tician to speak pei*suasively, as to demand demon - iitrntions from an orator. D. Now each individual judges well of what he knows, Requisites and of these he is a good judge. In each particular for a proper gcigj^ce, therefore, he is a good judge who has been instructed in them ; and imiversally, he who has 6. been instructed in all subjects. Therefore a young Young men man is not a proper pei-son to study political science, "tad^T'^^'^ for he is inexperienced in the actions of life: but these are the subjects and gi-ounds of this treatise. Moreover, being inclined to follow the dictates of pasmon, he will listen in vain, and without benrtit. CHAP, ir.] ETHICS. 5 fcince tlie end is not kncrwledge, but practice. ^ But 7. it makes no difference, whether he be a youth in ^^J^^l^^^^ age, or a novice in character ; for the defect arises gfju^e, not from age, but from his life and pursuits being- according to the dictates of passion ; for to such persons knowledge becomes useless, as it does to the incontinent ; but to those who regulate their appe- tites and actions according to reason, the knowledge of these subjects must be very beneficial. Concern- ing the student, and in what manner he is to admit our arguments, and what we propose to treat of, let thus much be prefaced. CHAP. IV. IV/tat the highest Good is. False opinions of men concerning it. Whether we should argue Analytically or Synthetically. But let us resume the subject from the commence- 1. ment. Since all knowledge and every act of deli- Subject re- berate preference aims at some good, let us show fJJ'^^^ j j™ what that is, which we say that the political science p. ii. aims at, and what is the highest good of all things which are done. As to its name, indeed, almost all 2. men are agreed ; for both the vulgar and the edu- -^■Ji ^^^^ *^'^ cated call it Jiappiness : but they suppose that to happiness live well and do well are synonymous with being but differ ' happy. But concerning tlie nature of happiness as to its they ar** at variance, and the vulgar do not give the mature, feamc definition of it as the educated ; for some ima- ' gine it to be an obvious and well-known object — such as pleasure, or wealth, or honour ; but different men think differently of it : and frequently even the Diffeient same person entertains different opinions respectin^j views. * Such passages as these are proofs of what was stated in note (a) ; viz., that the system of Aristotle is more practical than that of Plato. It was this eminently practical turn o. mind which led him to make his principal object not so much philosophical speculation, as the induction of facts and phe- •oraena, and *he definition of terms. 6 ARISTOTLE'S [doox i. it at diffei'ent times ; for, "svlien diseased, he belie vea it to be health ; when poor, wealth ; but, conscious of their own ignorance, they admii-e those who say that it is something great, and beyond them. Some, 4. again, have supposed that, besides these numerous Plato's goods, there is another self-existent good, which is aUuded to *^ ^^ these the cause of their being goods.*! Now, to examine all the opinions would perhaps be i-ather unprofitable ; but it will be sufficient to examine those which lie most upon the surface, or seem to be most reasonable. 5. Let it not, however, escape our notice, that ar- guments from principles differ from arguments to principles ; ibr well did Plato also propose doubts on this point, and inquire whether the right way is from principles or to principles ; just as in the coiu'se from the starting-post to the goal, or the 6. contrary.^ For we must begin from those things rvupifia. that are known ; and things are knoAvn in two ways ; 1. airXCig, for some are known to ourselves, others are gene- 2. tjfiiu. j^jy known ; perhaps, therefore, w^e should begin from the things known to ourselves. 7. Whoever, therefore, is to study with advantage The student the things which are honourable and just, and in should be a word the subjects of political science, must have '^^'(^ted ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ morally educated ; for the point from whence we must begin is tliefact, and if this is satis- factorily proved, it "vvill be unnecessary to add the reasons Such a student either possesses, or would ^ Aristotle is here referring to Plato's theory of ideas or original achetypal forms, which he discusses more at length in chap. \i. * The geometrical and algebraic processes furnish us with excellent illustrations of synthetical and analytical reasoning ; I. e. of reasoning cnrb tCjv dpxiov Kai tTri rag apxdg. In the former we assume certain fixed principles, the axioms, &c., and from them deduce new results ; from them we proceed to others, and so on. In the latter we assume the lesult an given, and from these conditions investigate what causes, i. e. what values, of the unknown quantity will produce it. ' Aristotle, in his Analytics, tells us there are four subjeclft of investigation ; viz., to oti, to dioTi, il lari, t'i tan. The knowledge of the iiiTi constitutes the difference b«tw*9a CHAP, v.^ ETHICS. • easily acquire, the principles. But let liim who poa- sesses neither of these qiialifications, hear the serti- menta of Hesiod : — *' Far does the man all other men excel, Who, from his wisdom, thinks in all things well. Wisely considering, to himself a friend, All for the present best, and for the end. Nor is the man without his share of praise, Who well the dictates of the wise obeys : But he that is not wise himself, nor can Hearken to wisdom, is a useless man." Hesiod, Op. et Di., translated. CHAP. V. That Happiness is neither Pleasure, nor Honour, nor Virtue, nor Wealth. But let us return to the point where we commenced i, this digression ; for men seem not cLnreasonably to Subject form their notion of "the good," ant' of happiness, °^^" **• from observing the different lives wliich men lead. The many and most sordid class suppose it to be pleasure, and therefore they are content with a life of enjoyment. For there are three kinds of lives which are most 2. prominent — first, that just mentioned ; secondly, the political ; and, thirdly, the contemplative. Now, the viUgar appear entirely slavish, delibe- 3. rately preferring the life of brutes ; but they find a Opinion o( reason for what they do, because many persons in o' TroWot. positions of authority are led by the same passioas as Sardanapalus. But those who are educated,8 and fond of active 4. pursuits, suppose it to be honour, for this may be Of x«p««*^ almost said to be the end of political life ; but it ^^^ ^^^ , appeal's to be too superficial for the object of our '^P"*''*'^"*' empirical and scientific knowledge, as empirics know the fact oTi, but not the reason vioti, • oi x«P">'''«C' — hommes instruits {Michelet). 8 ARISrOTLE'S [book :. inqiiliy ; for it sceins to reside rather iii tliose who confer, than in those who receive, honour : but wo have a natural conception, that "the good" is some- thing peculiarly one's own, and difficult to be taken 5. away. Moreover, men seem to pursue honour in It is not order that they may believe themselves to be good ; honour. g^^ ^j^j j.^^^ ^j^^y qqq-^ Iq ]yQ honoured by wise men, and by their acquaintances, and on account of vir- tue : it is plain, therefore, that, at least in tJieir 6. opinion, virtue is superior. But perhaps it may Nor virtue, rather be supposed that ^•il'tue is the end of the political life ; but this appears too incomplete, for it seems possible for a man, while in possession of virtue, either to sleep or be inactive through life ; and besides this, to suffer the greatest misfortunes and calamities. But no one would pronounce a man happy who lives such a life as this, unless he were defending a favourite hypothesis.^^ Enough, there- fore, of these tilings ; for we have treated of them - sufficiently in our encyclic works.^ The con- The third life is the contemplative ; wliich we teirplative shall make the subject of fiiture consideration, lif^- But the -money-getting life^ does violence to our rp, / natural inclinations ; and it is obvious that riches gettino- life. ^^® ^^^ ^^^^ good which we are in search of; for they '' The Stoics did defend this paradox, affirming that virtue or "wisdom constituted happiness, even in the midst of the greatest misfortunes. See Horace, Sat. I. 3. ' The philosophers of antiquity had necessarily two methods of teaching, the one esoteric or acroamalic, addressed to those who pursued science in a philosophic spirit ; the other exoteric or encyclic, adapted to those who were going through a course or curriculum of general study. The exoteric treatises therefore would, generally speaking, embrace the usual subjects of Athe- nian liberal education ; but as the distinction is one depending on the method of treatment rather than on the subject-matter, the same subjects might be treated either esoterically or exoterically, according to circumstances. The definition give^ by Cicero (de Finibus, v. 5) is not correct. '' The meaning of the term (3iatog, as applied to the money- getting life, is evidently that it does violence to our natural instincts, which lead us to look upon money as a means, and not an end ; whereas the man who devotes himself to getting money generally learns to consider it as an end. CHAP. VI.] ETHICS. 9 are merely useful, and for the sake of some otlier end. One would therefore rather suppose, that " the good " is one of the ends before mentioned, for they are loved on their own account; but even they do not appear to be so, although many arguments have been expended upon them. liCt these things be dismissed from our consideration. CHAP. VI. That " the Good" is not a universal, according to one idea.^ But perhaps it woidd be better to examine the 1. theoiy of a universal good, and to inquire what is I'lato's •^ ^ . . doctrine of ' Previous to examining the nature of the doctrine itself, Icsa. it is important to observe that Aristotle does not attempt to discuss the truth or falsehood of the Platonic doctrine of the idea generally ; but that the only object which he has in view is to prove that the chief good is not an idea. Hence he assumes as true, certain acknowledged positions in the Platonic theory, and shows that these are inconsistent with the belief in the ideal nature of the dyaOou. After having done this, he dismisses the subject with the remarJ: that such a view would be utterly unpractical ; whereas some- thing practical is the object of his investigation. Let us now proceed to examine what the Platonic doctrine of the idea is. According to Plato, the sensible is in a state of continual change, and consequently the sensible is not the true. But the object of true science is to investigate what each thing is of itself absolutely (to avrb t/caorov, to avrb KaQ' avTo). Hence he assumed that there existed from all eternity certain archetypal forms immutable and absolutely existent ; and that all else which exists, either physically or metaphysi- cally, is only real so far as it participates in them (/xfrexft* KoiviDviav tx^t). These forms are the " ideas :" and the idea may be defined, ♦* That which makes everything which is, to be what it is," or " whatever exhibits an eternal truth, which forms the basis of the mutability of the sensible." These were the types (TrapaSuyfxaTa) after which God made all created things, impressing their likeness upon matter {vXrj), which was itself also eternal, formless, yet fitted to receive form. From the universal nature of the Uea, it follows that there must be ideas of all abstract qualities, such as the good, the beautiful, the evil, health, strength, magnitude, colour ; 9iso of all wnsible objectg, 8uah as a horse, a temple, a cup, aman ; even of each 10 ARISTOTLE'S ^b^ok i. meant by it, although such an inquiiy involves diffi- culties, because men who are our friends have introduced the doctrine of ideas. But perhaps it -would seem to be better, and even necessary, at least for the presoi-vation of truth, that we should even do away with private feelings, especially Jis we aro philosophers; for both being dear to us, it i^ a sacred duty to prefer truth. 2. But those who introduced this doctrine, did not Sood is suppose ideas of those things in which they predi- ''oste ^or ^^^^^ priority and posteriority, and therefore they did not establish an idea of number."' But the good is predicated in substance, in quality, and in relation. But the self-existent and the essence are naturally prior to that which is related ; for tliis is like an offshoot, and an accident of the essence ; so that there cannot be any common idea in these. 3. Again, since the good is predicated in as many Different in ^^yg ^s being (for it is predicated in essence, as Grod -Q^ ' and intellect ; and in quality, as the virtues ; and in quantity, as the mean ; and in relation, as utility ; and in time, as opportunity ; and in place, as a habitation, and so on), it is e^'ident, that it cannot be anj^hing common, universal, and one : for then individual man; e.g., Socrates and Simmias. It is evident, therefore, that we must not confound the Platonic idea witli what we mean by abstract ideas, which are properties, accidents, &c. drawn off from objects, and contemplated separately ; as, e. y., we may contemplate the scent or colour of a flower. Each of these, according to the Platonic theory, would have its corresponding "idea;" but still, as we have shown, there are other ideas which are not abstract. Nor did Plato teach that the idea is arrived at by abstraction or generalization ; it is self-existent, eternal, and becomes known to us in our pre- sent condition by reminiscence ; having been previously known to us in a former state of being. " As Plato held with the Pythagoreans that number and the elements of number were the elements of all things, therefore the ideas must be identical with numbers. In order, therefore, to understand the assertion that Plato did not form an " idea" of numbers, we must be careful to distinguish between the ideal numbers {dpiQ^ol tidijriKoi) and the numbers which admit of continuation (ffVfi^XrjToi), which are the mathema- tical ; to the latter Aristotle refers in this passage. See Brewer's Ethics, Appendix, pp. 451-2. gory. CHAP. VI.] ETHICS. II it would not have been predicated in all the cate- gories, but in one only.^ Again, since of things which are comprehended 4. under one idea there is also one science, there would Also in the tlien be some one science of all goods ; but now ^^^J *^**®" there are many sciences, even of goods which fall under the same category ; as, for instance, under the category of opportunity ; for in war there is the science of generalship, but in disease, that of medi- cine j and again, in the category of the mean, in diet, there is the science of medicine ; in labours, that of gymnastics. But one might doubt as to what they mean by 5. the term se^anything, since in self-man and man ^^^ ^^^ there is one and the same definition of man ; for ti^^e'same. as far as they are man, they will not differ. But if so, neither will the good and the self-good differ, so far as they are good ; nor yet will the self-good be more a good from being eternal ; if the white wliich is of long duration is not whiter than that which lasts but for a day. But the Pythagoreans seem to speak more plausi- 6. bly on the subject when they place unity in the ^^PJ^^j*" co-ordinate series of goods ;« whom Speusippus Jl^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^ also seems to hav\^ followed. Speusin- The subject, however, may be discussed in pus. another point of view ; and what has been said 7. ° The categories are certain principles of classification, and are ten in number ; viz. suljstance, quantity, quality, rela- tion, action, passion, time, place, situation, possession. See on this subject Whateley's Logic. ° The Pythagoreans held that there were ten universal principles, which are exhibited in the following co-ordinaU eolumns or av(TToi\ia : — TTtpaQ UTTtipOV inplTTOV dpTiov tv TrXrjOog ^t^iov apiaTepov dppev ^TJXv TJptfiOVV Kivovfievov ^ tvOv KafiTrvXov AyaOov KOKoy Ttrpayiovov irtpofiifttf:. 12 ARISTOTLE'S. Tcoor i. admits of dispute, because our arguoients arc not Goods di- applicable to every good ; but those tilings wLicL ridcd into are pursued and loved on their own account, are two classes, predicated under one species, whilst the thingy which produce these, or in any way preserve them, or prevent the contrary, are said to be goods on 8, account of these, and after another manner. It is evident, then, that goods may be so called in two ways ; some on their own account, the others on account of the former. Having, therefore, separated those which are good on theii' own accoimt, fi-om those which are useful, let us consider whether they are predicated under one idea. 9. Now, what kind of goods may we assume to be goods on tlieii' own account? May we assume all those wliich are pursued even when alone, such as wisdom, sight, and some pleasures and honours 1 for these, even if we pursue them on accoimt of something else, one would nevertheless class among tilings good on their own account : or is there no- thing else good ^;er se besides the idea ? so that, in this view of the subject, the doctiine of the idea is 10. without foundation. But if these also belong to the class of goods on their own account, the defini- tion of good must necessaiily show itself to be the same in all these ; just as the definition of white- ness in snow, and white lead ; but of honour, and pinidence, and pleasure, the definitions are distinct and difierent in the very point which constitutes them goods. The good, therefore, is not anything common under one idea. 11. In what sense, then, is the term good predicated of these different tlungs? for they are not like Different things which are homonymous accidentally ; is it things because they all proceed from one, or tend towards ^f^^^^, one good? or is it not rather predicated analogically? an^offv'^^'^^ For as in the body siglit is a good, so is intellect in the soul ; and, in like manner, different tilings are goods under different circumstances. 12. But perhaps these questions should be dismissed The doc- for th? present, for it would more properly belong cvAP. vf.l ETHICS. U to another branch of pliilosophy to discuss them trine of tha minutely. The same observation may be applied ^'^jf*.""', to the doctrine of the idea ; for if there is some ^3^ one good predicated in common, or sometliing sepa- rate, independent by itself, it is obvious it would neither be practical nor capable of being acquired by man j but sometliing of this kind is the object of our present inquiry. Perhaps, however, some might think that it were !•*• well to know it, with a view to those goods which ^ "'^ , are to be possessed and acted upon ; for having this ^f j^ useful as a pattern, we shall better know the goods which are so relatively to ourselves : and if we know them, we shall obtain them. Certainly this position has 15. some plausibility, but it appears to be at variance with the sciences ; for all of them, although aspiring fifter some good, and seeking to supply that which is deficient, omit the knowledge of this ; and yet, that all ai*tists should be ignorant of an aid of such conse- quence, and never inquire for it, is not at all reason- able. It is likewise difficult to say how a weaver or 16. cai-penter would be benefited with reference to his ProbaW own ai-t, by kno^ving the self-good ;P and how will ^^^' he who has contemplated the idea itself be a more skilful physician, or a more able general? for the pliysician does not appear to regard health in this manner, but the health of man, or rather, perhaps, that of a particular indiWdual ; for lie cm-es indi- vidual cases. Let it be sufficient, then, to have Raid so much on these subjects. » In this point the opinion of Cicero is at variance with that of Aristotle, for he believed that an artist would derive prac- tical beneiit froir. the mental contemplation of ideal eicelknc/;. —Vide Cic. Orat. c. 2. 14 ARISTOTLE'S [book i. CHAP., YJ r. JVhal is the End of all Human Actions. 1. Now let US again return to the good we ai'e in Subject search of, and inquire what it is ; for it seems to sgaiu re- -^^ different in different coui-ses of action and arts ; for it is different in the art of medicine, in general- ship, and in like manner in the rest. What then is the good in each ? Is it not that, for the sake of which the otlier things are done ? Now in the art of medicine this is health ; in the art of general- ship, victory : in architecture, a house ; in different 2. arts, different ends. But in eveiy action and delibe- i*ate preference, it is the end ; since for the sake of this all men do everything else. So that, if there is any end of all human actions, this must be the practical good ; but if more ends than one, these must be it. By a different path, therefore, our argument has arrived at the same point ; and this we must attempt to explain still farther. 3. Since ends appear to be more tlian one, and of "^^ *V^^^^^ these we choose some for tlie sake of others, as, for most final, instance, riches, musical instruments, and univer- sally all instruments whatever, it is plain that they are not all perfect. But the chief good appears to be something perfect ; so that if there is some one end which is alone perfect, that must be the veiy thing which we are in search of ; but if there are 4. many, it must be the most peifect of them. Now Ends are we say, that the object jDursued for its own salve is ^*^' more perfect than that pursued for the sake of another ; and that the object which is never chosen on account of another thing, is more perfect than those which are ehgible both by themselves, and for sake of that other: in fine, we call that completely perfect, which is always eligible for its own sake, and nevei* on account of anything else. CHAP, vii.] ETHICS. 15 Of siicli a kind does happiness seem in a peculiar 5. manner to be ; for this we always choose on its Happiness own account, and never on account of anytliing else. ^^^„^^v and Bat honoui*, and pleasui'e, and intellect, and every ^^' ^^^^^^ virtue we cboose partly on their o^vn account (for atptrov, were no further advantage to result from them, we should choose each of them), but we choose them ako for the sake of happiness, because we suppose that we shall attain happiness by their means ; but no one chooses happiness for the sake of these, nor in short for the sake of anything else. But the same result seems also to arise from self- ^' sufficiency, for the perfect good appears to be self- fro^^j^g sufficient; but we attribute self-sufficiency not to him being ' who leads, for himself alone, a solitary life, but to liim avTapKig who lives also for liis parents and children, and wife, and, in short, for his friends and fellow-citizens ; since man is naturally a social bemg. Some limit, however, must be assigned ; for, if we go so far as to include parents and descendants, and the friends of friends, we may go on to infinity. But this must be made the subject of future investigation. We define the 7. "self-sufficient" as that which, when separated from Avr6p By a perfect life {(iiog TtXeiog) Aristotle meant, first, the development of life to the highest degree of perfection j arid, veoondly, consistency from the beginning to the end. C IS ARISTOTLE'S [book i must endeavour to trace each of lliem in the iDaii- aer in Avhich they are formed by nature ; and wo must use our utmost endeavours that they be well defined, for that has great weight in the discussions which follow. For the principle seems to be more than the half of the whole, and many of the sub- jects of oiu' inquiry seem to become clear by means of this. CHAP. YIII. That the Ancients agree icith Aristotle on the subject of Happiness. 1. But we must consider the subject of happiness not Different only aa regards the conclusion wliich we have drawn, shown"^ and the premisses from wliich our arguments are to coincide derived, but also as regards the statements of others in some concerning it ; for all the properties of a tiling degree, with accord with the tmth ; but the tmth is at once dis- Aristotle cordant with falsehood. 2. Now, goods being divided into three classes,' and Happiness some being called external, others said to belong to a good of ii^e soul, and others to the body, we call those be- the soul. longing to the soid, the superior, and good, in a higher sense than the others ; but we assume, that the actions and energies of the soul belong to the 3. soul. So that our assertion would be correct, accord- ing to this opinion at least, wliich is ancient, and allowed by philosophers, that certain actions and energies are the end ; for thus it becomes one of the goods of the soul, and not one of the external ones. 4. Also, that the happy man lives well, and does The happy w^ell, harmonizes with our definition ; for we have man lives almost defined happiness as a kind of well living r^^ *"*!, and w^ell doing, does well. ^ ' This threefold division of goods is due to tne Pythago reans, and was adopted by the Peripatetics. — Set Cic. Acatl, i. a ; Tusc. v. 85. Brewer^ CHAP. nii.J ETHICS. IS Again, all tlie qualities requii'ed iu happincBS 5. appear to exist in our definition ;^ for to some it 4^^ '"cqai- seems to be virtue, to others prudence, and to ^^^^/Jf ^ otliers a kind of wisdom : to some, again, these, or definition, some one of these, with pleasui-e, or at least, not with- out pleasure ; others, again, include external pros- perity : but of these opinions, many ancient wiiters support some ; a few celebrated pliilosophers the others ; but it is reasonable to suppose that none of these have totally erred, but that in some one particular, at least, they are for the most part right. Now with those, who say that it is every 6. virtue, or some virtue, oiu* definition accords ; for It is aotive to this virtue belongs the energy. But perhaps it virtue, makes no slight difierence whether we conceive the chief good to consist in possession, or in use ; in habit, or in energy. For it is possible, that the 7. habit, though really existing, should cause the performance of no good thing ; as in the case of a man who is asleep, or in any other way is incapable of acting : but that the energy should do so is im- possible ; for of necessity it will act, and -will act well. But as in the Olympic g-ames, it is not the 8. most beautiful and the strongest who are cro^vned, but those who engage in the conflict (for some of these are the conquerors) ; thus it is those only who act aright, who obtain what Ls honourable and good in life. Moreover, their life is of itself pleasant ; 9. for to be pleased, is one of the goods of the soul ; It is essen' but that is to every man pleasant, with reference ^^*^^^' l^^^*' to which he is said to be fond of such a thing ; as, for example, a horse to the man who is fond of horses, and a spectacle to the man who is fond of spectacles ; in like manner also, tilings just to the lover of justice ; and, in a word, virtuous things to the lover of virtue. • These primary opinions respecting happiness our author also enumerates in his Eudemean Ethics. The first he refers to Socrates, Plato, and some others ; the second to Socrates r, the third to Thales and Anaxagoras. Amongst those who added external happiness, he mentions Xenocrates. — FW/, quoted by Cardwell, c2 20 ARISTOTLE'S [book i 10. Now tlie things that are pleasant to the gene- rality of mankind, are at variance witli each otlier, because they are not naturally pleasant; but things naturally pleasant, are pleasant to those who are fond of that which is honourable ; aud such are always the actions according to virtue ; so that to these men they are i^leasant, even of themselves. Their life therefore stands in no need of the addi tion of pleasure, as a kind of appendage or amulet, but possesses pleasure in itself; for, besides what lias been said, the man who does not take pleasure in honourable actions, has no title to be called good ; for neither would any person call that man just, who takes no pleasure in acting justly ; nor that man liberal, who takes no pleasure in liberal actions ; and in the other cases in like manner. But if this is the case, the actions of vii*tue must be l)leasant of themselves ; and yet they are also good and honourable, and each of these in the highest degree, if, indeed, the good man judges rightly concerning them ; but he judges as we said. 1 1 . Happiness, therefore, is the best, the most honour- riie three able, and the most pleasant of all tilings ; and qualities these qualities are not divided, as in the Delian '^ppiness" inscription : " That which is most just is most ho- noiu-able, and health is the most desirable, and the obtaining what we love the most pleasant :"•* for all these qualities exist in the best energies ; and these, or the best one of them, we say that happi- 12. ness is. But, nevertheless, it appeai-s to stand in External need of the addition of external goods, as we said ; goods con- for it is impossible, or not easy, for one who is mbute to j^Q^ famished with external means, to do honour- able actions ; for many things are done, as it were, by means of instiniments, by friends, by money, or * UtpiaTTTa were amulets suspended by the women round the necks of children, to protect them against enchantment. — Victor. ■ The same sentiment occurs in the Creusa of Sophocles :— ' KdXXlOTOV i(TTl TOVvdlKOV 7r£0UK£l'at, ^wirfTov dt t,yv avoaov' rj^iarov c' ory *^M)f(TTi XaJ/u'i uv ip^ /if 0' im'tpav CHAP. IX.] ETHICS. 21 political influence. And if dei^rived of some tilings, 13. naen sully their happiness, as, for instance, of noble Misrfoi- birth, good children, or beauty: for the man ofJ^^^^^J^"" deformed appearance, and of ignoble birth, and tlie it. solitary and childless man, is not at all likely to be happy : and still less perhaps is he likely to be so whose childi-en or friends are iitterly wicked, or have been good, and are dead. As, therefore, we 14. said, there seems to be need of the addition of this sort of external prosperity ; whence some people set doA\Ti good fortune as synonymous with happiness, and others wtue. CIIAP. IX. How Happiness is acquired. Hence also a question is raised, whether happiness 1. is acquired by learning, by habit, or by exercise of The origiit any other kind ; or whether it is produced in a °^ l^appi- man by some heavenly dispensation, or even by chance. Now, if there is any other thing which is 2. the gift of God to men, it is reasonable to suppose A divine that happiness is a divine gift, and more than any- g^^^* thing else, inasmuch as it is the best of human things. But this, perhaps, would more fitly belong to another kind of investigation : but, even if it be not sent from heaven, but is acquired by means of virtue, and of some kind of teaching or exercise, it appears to be one of the most divine of things ; for the prize and end of virtue seems to be some- thing wliich is best, godlike, and blessed. It must 3, also be common to many ; for it is possible, that by Commou to means of some teaching and care, it should exist in »»any. every person who is not incapacitated for virtue. But if it is better that people should be happy by 4. tliese means, than by chance, it is reasonable to Chance no( Kuppose it is so, since natural productions are pro- the cause iuoed in the best way in which it is possib -e for nggg*^^^' 22 -. ARISTOTLE'S [book i, them to be produced ; and likewise tte productions of art, and ot every efficient cause, and especially of the best cause. But to commit the gi-eatest and the noblest of things to chance would be very 5. inconsistent. Now the thing we are at present in search of receives additional clearness from the definition ; for happiness has been said to be a kind of energy of the soijl according to virtue ; but of the remaining goods it is necessary that some exist in it, and that others shoidd be natui'ally assistant fi- and useful, instrumentally. But this ^vill agree with what we stated in the beginning ; for we set down the end of the political science a,s the good ; and tliis devotes its principal attention to form the characters of the citizens, to make them good, and dispose them to honourable actions. 7. It is with reason, then, that we do not call an ox, Brutes g^ horse, or any other beast, happy ; for none of be"a5led them are able to participate in this kind of energy, happy. ^or this cause, also, a child cannot be called happy ; Nor chil- for from his time of life he is not yet able to perform dren, ex- g^^ch actions ; but those who are so called, are anticipa™ called happy from hope ; for, as we said, there is tion. iieed of perfect vii-tue, and of perfect life. For tlie 8. changes of life are numerous, and the accidents of Why (3inQ fortime various ; and it is possible for the man in ^dd^ d^ ^'^ *^® enjoyment of the greatest prosperity to become involved in gi-eat calamities in the time of his old age, as is related in the stoiy of Priam, in the Iliad ; and no man will call him happy, who has experienced such misfortunes, and died miserably. CHAP. X. Solon'g Opinion discussed. The relation of extei^nal prosperity to Happiness. 1 . Are we, then, to call no other man happy as long Solon's as he lives, but is it necessaiy, as Solon says, to look opinion CHAP. X.] ETHICS. «» to the end P But if we miTst ky down tliis inile, ooiisldenrf is he then haT)py when he is dead 1 Or is this alto- ^^' *^** gether absurd, especially in us who assert happiness o, to be a kind of energy 1 But if we do not call the dead man happy, and even Solon does not mean this, but that a person might then securely call a man happy, as beyond the reach of evils and misfor- tunes, even tliis assertion admits of some dispute. For if there is some good and evil to the man who is 3. alive, and who is not aware of it, there may be sup- posed to be some to the dead man also, as honours and dishonours, and the good and evil fortunes of children and descendants generally. But tliis too 4* occasions some difficulty ; Lr when a man hae lived happUy till his old age, and has died in the same manner, it is possible that vaiious changes may happen to his descendants, and that some of them ' The story of Solon and Croesus is too well known to ren- der it necessary to do more than refer the reader to Herod, book i. c. 32. What the opinion of Aristotle was respecting the condition of the soul after death is difficult to determine, even from his treatise De Anima ; and still more so from the brief and inci- dental way in which he introduces the subject in this book, and in Book III. c. vi. In fact, in both places he appears to assume the views popularly held, those vague and undefined instincts which dictated such passages as — WOTfi ry TtOvtjKOTl Tifi&g rrpoedTTTeiv, tt Tig tar tKti x^P^Q- Soph. Electr. 348, mil to reason on them without entering into the question of their truth or falsehood. It is evident that there is a vast difference between a belief in the immortality of the soul, and a belief in the permanence of its personal identity hereafter. The former doctrine could scarcely be denied by the philoso- piier who held that the human soul was " particula divinse animse ;" but as after death it might be reunited to the essence of which it had been previously a part, it was quite possible to hold such a belief, and yet to have no personal interest in a future state. On the whoi'e subject of the opinions of ancient philosophers respecting the condition of the soul after death, see a most able note to Lecture III. of Humphrey's Hulsean Lectures for 1849 ; and on the particular views of Aristotle, see also Arch bishop Whatelcy's Peculiarities of the Christian Religiou, page 120. «« ARISTOTLE'S [book ». should be good, and enjoy a life according to tlioir deserts, while others obtain the contraiy one : but it is clearly possible for them, taking into consider ation the distance of time, to stand in every imagin- able relation towards their parents. Now it would be absurd, if the dead man were to participate in their changes, and be at one time happy, and then again miserable ; and it would also be absurd, that the fortunes of children should not, in any instance, or at any time, reach to and affect the parents. 5. But we must return to the doubt originally started ; This opi- for perhaps from its solution the present question luon shown migjit receive elucidation. Now, if it is necessary to aosm-d ^^^^ ^^ *^® ®^^' ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^ every man happy, not because he is, but because lie has been, happy, how can it be otherwise than absurd, if, when he is happy, the thing wliich re.illy exists in him shall be unable to be truly said of him, because we do not choose to call living men happy on ai^count of the changes of life, and beciuise we liave in our minds conceived happiness to be something permanent, and by no means easily admitting of change, and because good and e\il fortune come frequently round to the same persons ? for it is clear, that if we constantly attend to the chances of fortime, we shall frequently call the same man at one time happy, and at another miserable, exhibiting the happy man as a kind of chameleon, and as placed upon an insecure foundation. 6. Or is this following of the accidents of for- External tune in no way right? for goodness and badness goods not clo not depend upon these, but human life, as essential to ^^ ^^^ stands in need of external goods as additions ; but virtuous energies are the essen- tial constituents of happiness, and the contrary 7. energies of the contrary to happiness. But the question we have just started bears testimony to the definition ; for stability does not exist in any The ener- human thing so much as in virtuous energies ; foi gies of these seem to be more j)ermanent even than tho THTmanenT sciences, and the most honourable of these are like CHAP. X.] ETHICS. 2^ wise tlie most stable, because happy men most fre- qaently and most constantly ])ass their lives in them ; for this seems to be the reason why there is no forgetfulness of them. Therefore, the thing which we are in search of will exist in the happy man, and thronghout his life he will be of this character ; for he always, or most of all men, will live in the practice and contemplation of virtuous actions, and he will bear the accidents of fortune most nobly, and in every case, and altogether suit- ably, as a man in reality good, and a faultless cube.*^ But since the accidents of foi*tune are numerous, g. and differ in gi'eatness and smallness, small instances How far thj of good fortune, and likewise of the opposite, clearly accidents* will not influence the balance of life ; but great and affea '^"'^*' numerous accidents, if on the side of good fortime, happiness. M-ill make life more happy, for they naturally unite in giving additional embellishment, and the use of them becomes honourable and good ; but if they happen on the other side, they crush and spoil the happiness ; for they bring on sorrows, and are impe- diments to many energies. But nevertheless, even 9. in these, the honourable is conspicuous, whenever a man bears with equanimity many and great mis- fortunes, not from insensibility, but because he is high-spirited and magnanimous. But if the energies are the essential constituents 10. of the happiness or the misery of life, as we said, no happy man can ever become miserable ; for he Avill never do hateful and worthless actions ; for we conceive that the man who is in reality good and wise, bears every accident of fortune in a becoming manner, and always acts in the most honourable manner that the circumstances admit of, just as the good general makes the most skilful use of the army he has, and the good shoemaker of the skins that are given him makes the most elegant shoe, and all * A good man is compared to a cube, as being the emblem of perfection: *A/x0fa» yap re\fia, — Arist. Rhet. iii. 11. Similarly Horace says " in seipio totus, teres, atoue rotundug.'* Serm. ii. 7. i^ ARISTOTLE'S Ihook i. 11. other artificers in the same manner. But if this is Mt ^^^ '^^^^ continue to exist, but only blessed as a man. ^ men. And let these subjects have been thua far defined. CHAP. XI. Thai the Good or Ill-fortune of Descendants and Friends contributes somewhat to Happiness, and the reverse. 1. But it appears a very unfriendly idea, and one Whetlier contraiy to universal opinion, to suppose that the the d^ad fortunes of descendants and friends do not in the by the for- smallest degree afiect the dead man. But since the tunes of accidents of fortune that occur are numerous, and the living. * iKayetQ KtxopijyTjfiivov, literally sufficiently equipped to act his part on the stage of human life ; one duty of too XopnyK being to dress the characters suitably to their pari*. CHAP. XI.] ETHICS. Jf; differ in various ways, and some of tliem come more home, and others less, it seems to be a tedious and endless task to discuss tliem individually ; but per- liaps it would be sufficient if what we say were said generally and in outline. If, then, as in the case of misfortunes occuriing 2. to one's self, some have weight and influence in life, wliile others appear lighter ; the same exactly is the case with those which happen to all our friends. But it makes a great difference whether each mis- 3. fortime happen to living or to dead persons; much Illustrated greater difference than it makes in a tragedy,^ ^'*°™ Greei whether atrocious and horrible ci*imes are supposed ^'*^^^)- to have been committed previously, or form part of tlie action of the play. We may then, in this way, 4. come to a conclusion respecting the extent of this difference ; or rather, perhaps, respecting the answer to the question about the dead, and their participa- tion in good and its opposites ; for it appears from these observations, that, even if anything reaches them, whether good or evil, it must be weak and small, either absolutely, or relatively to them ; or, if not this, it must be of such extent and description as not to make those happy who are not already happy, nor to deprive those who are happy of their happi- ness. Therefore the good fortune of their friends 5, seems in some degree to affect the dead, and in like manner theii* ill fortunes ; but only in such a man- ner and to such an extent as neither to make the happy unhappy, nor to do anything else of this kind. y In the prologues of many Greek tragedies, previous events are related, which form part of the plot without forming part of the action of the drama. To these the words of Hora(^ rill apply : — " Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures, Quaju qu»e sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus. ' — A. P. 181, See on thu subject Cic. ie Sen. xxiii. ARISTOTT F'S CHAP. XIT. Thai Hofpiness be-'ongs to the class of things Honourable, ami not of things Praised. 1. These points being detei-mined, let us next consid(;r Happiness happiness, whether it be one of things praised or ^? * rather of things honourable ; for it is clear that it is not one of the faculties. Kow, everything that is XT A ^•' P^sed seems to be praised because it is of a certain belong to ^ character, and has a certain relation to something ; iTTou'iri. for we pi-aise the just man, and the brave man, and the good man generally, and Adrtue, on account of their works and actions ; and the strong man, and the good runner, and every one else whom we praise, because he naturally is of a certain character, and has a certain relation to something that is good and excellent. 3. But tliis is clear from the praises that are given to the gods ; for they appear ridiculous when re- ferred to us ; but this happens because praises are bestowed relatively to some standard, as we said. But if praise belongs to things of this kind, it is clear that it does not belong to tlie best tilings, but sometliing greater and better is bestowed upon them, as also seems to be the case : for we predicate blessedness^ and happiness of the gods, and of the most godlike of men ; and likewise of the most godlike of goods ; for no man praises happiness as he would justice, but calls it blessed, as being some- thing more divine and excellent. 4. But Eudoxus also appears to have pleaded well for Aristotle the claim of pleasure to the highest place ; for he •grees thought that its not being praised, when it was one ^ildoxus ^^ *^® goods, proved it to be superior to all things praised ; but God and the highest good are of this ' The term ^aKapioQ, \n Latin •'* beatus," applies to per- fect happiness ; hence, in both the Greek and Latin churches, these words have been used to express the happiness of the saints ; e. g., 6 fioKiipioQ UavXug, Beata virgo, &c. ; whereas, iv^aifnov (felix) applies to such happiness as it is possible fo* ft wortal to attain to. «HAr. XIII.] ETHICS. 29 kind, for eveiything else ia refeiTed to theso; for praise is of virtue, for fl'om tliis men are able to j)ei*fonn liononi'able actions ; but encomiums are of works, as well bodily as mental. But to discuss 5. these matters with exactness belongs perhaps more properly to those who study encomiums ; but for our purpose it is clear, from what has been said, that happiness is one of things honourable and perfect. And this seems to be the case, from its being a piinciple ; for, for the sake of this all of us do everj-- thing else ; but we assume the piinciple and the cause of goods to be sometliing honourable and divine. CHAP. XIII. Vonceming the Divisions of the Soul, and conceitiing Virtue. But since happiness is a certain energy of the soul 1. according to perfect virtue, we must next consider Reasons the subject of virtue ; for thus, perhaps, we should "^^Y ^* see more clearly respectmg happiness. But he who "?J**f ^?^' in reality is slalled in political philosophy, appears tue. to devote the principal part of liis study to tliis ; for 2. he wishes to make the citizens good and obeddent to the laws ; but we have an example of this in the legislators of the Cretans and Lacedaemonians, and any others who may have become like them. But if tliis is the peculiar study of political philosophy, it is clear that the investigation would be consistent w^itli our original plan. We must therefore next examine virtue, that 3. IS to say, of course, human virtue ; for the Why hu- good which we were in search of is human good, ^^^ virtue and the happiness, human happiness ; but by human happiness we mean, not that of the body, but that of the soul ; and happiness, too, we de- fine to be an energy of the soul. But if these 4. things are true, it is evidently necessary for the And wny political philosopher to have some knowledge of ^^®^^^'"^^* wliat relatea to the soul ; just as it is necessary hx ^ *** so ARISTOTLE'S [book i. the man >v1k) iutends to cure tlie eyes, to study the ■whole body ; and sti^l more^ in proportion ae poli- tical philosophy is more honourable and excellent than the science of medicine ; and the best educated physicians take a gi*eat deal of pains in acquiiing a knowledge of the human body. 5. The student of political philosophy must therefore The soul study the soul, but he must study it for the sake of considered, these things, and only so far £«s is sufficient for the objects which he has in \'iew; for gi-eater exactness requires more labour perhaps than the subject in 6. hand demands. But some things are said about it Its divi- sufficiently in my exoteric discourses ; and these we sions. must make use of : as, for instance, that one part of ivov^ it is irrational, and the other possessing reason. But 'AXo'yov. whether these things are really separate, like the members of the body, and ever}- thiiig that is capa- ble of division ; or whether, being by nature indi • visible, they are only in word two, as in a circum- ference the convex and concave side, matters not for our present purpose. 7. .But of the irrational part, one division is like 'AXoyov that which is common, and belonging to plants ; subdivided that, I mean, which is the cause of nourishment ]^^ and growth : for a person might assert that such a vegetative, fo-culty of life as tliis exists in all beings that are nourished, even in embiyos, and the very same iji perfect beings : for it is more reasonable to call it 8. the same than any other. The excellence of this Virtue does part, therefore, appears common to other beings, not belong ^^^ j^q^ pecuHar to man ; for this part of the soul. ^^* and its faculties, seem to energize principally in sleep ; but the good and the bad man are in sleep least distinguishable ; whence men say, that for half their lives there is no difference between the 9. happy and the miserable. But it is reasonable that this should be the case ; for sleep is the inaction or the soul, so far forth as it is called good or bad ; except if some emotions in a small degree reacii it, and in tliis manner the visions of good men become better than those of the .jeneralifcy. But CHAP, xiii.] ETHICS. 'jl enough of these tilings ; we must therefore put aside the part which consists in noiirishment, since it has natui'ally no connection with human virtue. JSTow another natiu-al power of the soul appears lo. to be irrational, but to participate in reason in some Theayje- sort j for we praise the reason of the continent and ^itive hasa incontinent man, and that part of the soul which is submittin"' endued with reason ; for it exhorts us aright, and to reason, to the best actions. But there seems to be in man and a ten- sometliing else by natiu-e contrary to reason, wliich ^ency to contends with and resists reason. For, in reahty, ^J opposei) just as the paralyzed limbs of the body, when we n. intend to move them to the right hand, are turned aside the opposite way to the left, so it is with the soul ; for the impidses of the incontinent arc dii-ected towards the contraries. But in the case of the body we see the part that is turned aside, in the soul we do not see it ; but perhaps we must no less beUeve that there is in the soul sometliing contrary to reason, which opposes and resists it ; but how it differs it matters not. But this part also seems, as 12. we said, to partake of reason j at least in the con- tinent man it obeys reason ; but in the temperate or brave man it is perhaps still more ready to listen to reason : for in them it entirely agrees with reason. The irrational part tlierefore appears to be two- 13. fold ; for the part wliich is common to plants does not at all partake of reason ; but the part which contains the desires and the appetites generally in some sense partakes of reason, in that it is submissive and obe- dient to it. Thus, in fact, we say that a man has regard for his father and Mends, but not in the same sense in which we use the expression Xoyov ex^iy in mathematics.** But the giving of advice, and all l^- reproaching and exhorting, prove that the irrational ^^^^?Jf *P' part is in some sense persuaded by reason. But if belongs to it is necessary to say that this has reason likewise, the \dyov the part which has reason will be twofold also ; one ^x^ '"» another ■* There is an ambiguity in the original which does not exist in the translation, as Xdyov ex^iv means, (1) to pay regard to, (2) to bcRr a ratio to, in the mathematical sense. 32 ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [book 1. requisite. 15. part properly and in itself, the other as though lis- division is tening to the suggestions of a parent. '^'^ But virtue also is divided according to this difference ; for we call some of the virtues intellec- tual, others moral — wisdom, and intelligence, and prudence, we call intellectual, but liberality and temperance, moral ; for when speaking of the moral character of a man, we do not say that he is wise or intelligent, but that he is meek or tempei'ate ; but we pi-aise the wise man also according to his habits ; but praiseworthy habits we call virtues. '*'' The soul is considered by Aristotle as the only cause and principle of all the phenomena of physical and intellectual life, i//yX') therefore includes " animus " and '* anima." His divi- bion of ^vxn niay be explained by the two following tables : — ^fpog dXoyov yPvxv \oyov t^ov I ^vriKov iiriOvfiTITlKOV Kai OpiKTlKOV yif.Ti\oi' fisvTOi Try \6yov. Tip \oy<^ TTlWoi' Ttp Xuyij) avTiTlivitt B. litp^i oKoyov \6yov txov '^viiKOV Tip Koyift avTiTHVOv. ry Koyif} ttiWov, \uyot txov Kvpiug Kal iv The second table must be adopted if the rational nart is euts ^vided. ss BOOK I J, CHAP. I. Hjw Virtue is produced , and increase:!. Virtue being twofold, one part intellectual and l- tlie other moral, intellectual virtue has its origin '^^^. ^-''S"* and increase for the most part from teaching; there- of inteK ^^ fore it stands in need of experience and time ; but lectual and moral virtue arises from habit, whence also it has moral vir- got its name, which is only in a small degree altered '^"^• from 'iBoQ.^ Whence it is also clear, that not one of the moral virtues springs up in us by nature, for 2. none of those tilings which exist by nature expe- ^'"'/" ^^'' lience alteration from habit j for instance, the stone innate. which by nature goes downwards could never be ^j \ gg, accustomed to go upwards, not even if one should cause it can attempt ten thousand times, by throwing it up, to be altered. give it this habit ; nor could fii'e be accustomed to buni downwards; nor could anytliing else which has one natural bent get another different one from habit. The virtues, then, are produced in us neither 3. by nature nor contrary to nature, but, we being » Anglice " habit." ''llQoQ is the result of the accumulation of habits, i. e. character. Plato taught that the moral virtues were not generated in us either by nature or by learning, but were divinely bestowed. The Stoics rejected the twofold divi- sion of the soul and of virtue, mentioned in Book I., and asserted that they were all sciences. Hence Cicero says (de Off. lib. iii.), temperantia est scientia. They believed, how- ever, that the virtues were acquired ; for that there were innate in us certain common ideas {Koivai tvvoiai), cer- tain " seeds of virtue," and " lights of nature," which could be cultivated and brought to perfection. Aristotle, on the other hand, denied the existence of innate ideas, and com- pared the soul to a blank tablet, on which nothing was in- BtTibed except rb irt'pvKiQ, i. e. natural inclination. 24 ARISTOTLE'S [uook ii naturally adapted to receive tliem, and tliis natui-al 4. capacity is perfected by habit. Fiii-ther, in every f2.) Be- case where anytliing is produced in us natiu'ally. cause we ^yg j^^^ get the capacities for doing these things, and ^®' * .® afterwards perform the energies ; wliich is evident firgt, in the case of the senses ; for it was not from fre- quently seeing or frequently hearing that we got the senses, but, on the contraiy, we had them fii*st, and then used tliem, and did not get them by having used thcni. But we get the vii-tues by having first performed the energies, as is the case also in all the other arts ; for those things wliich wo must do after having learnt them we learn to do by doing them ; as, for example, by building houses men become builders, and by playing on the hai*p, harp- players ; thus, also, by doing just actions we become just, by performing temperate actions, temperate, and by performing brave actions we become brave. 5. Moreover, that which happens in all states bears Testimony testimony to tliis ; for legislators, by giving their iatoiT^" citizens good habits, make them good ; and this is the intention of eveiy lawgiver, and all that do not do it well fail ; and tliis makes all the differ- ence between states, whether they be good or bad. 6. Again, every virtue is produced and corrupted Virtue and f^m and by means of the same causes ;^ and in fronAhe^ ^^^® manner eveiy art ; for from playing on the larae cause. ^^^^T people become both good and bad harp- players ; and, analogously, builders and all the rest ; for from building well men will become good l)uilders, and from building badly bad ones ; for if tliis were not the case, there would be no need of a person to teach, and all woidd have been by 7 birth, some good and some bad. The same holds good in the case of the wtues also ; for by per- forming those actions which occur in our inter- ^ Actions produce contrary moral effects. Two men en- gaged in the same pursuits, exposed to the same temptations, may become, the one virtuous, the other vicious. In the order of nature, causes act uniformly, they cannot produce opposite effects ; therefore, virtue does not come by nature. CHAP. II.] ETHICS. 35 coarse with otlier men, some of us become just and some unjust ; and by acting in circiunstances of danger, and being accustomed to be fearful or con- fident, some become brave and others cowards. The g^ same thing is true in cases of desire and anger ; for some become temperate and mild, and others in- temperate and passionate — one class from having behaved themselves in such cases in one way, and the other class in another. In a word, the habits are 9, produced out of similar energies; therefore, the ener- Import ;j gies which we perform must be of a certain cha- °J ^^^''f ■ racter ; for, with the differences of the energies the ^ ^^^ ^°^ habits correspond. It does not therefore make a slight, but an important, nay, rather, the whole difference, whether we have been brought up in these habits or in others from childhood. CHAP. II. That Excess and Defect destroy Virtue, but that being in the mean preserves it. Since oiu- present treatise is not for the purpose 1. of mere speculation, as all others are, for the object Why ac of our investigation is not the knowing what tions muji \ii'tue is, but to become good (since otherwise j j,ed"^** there would be no use in it), it is necessary to study the subject of actions, and how we must perform them ; for these have entire influence over our habits to cause them to become of a certain character, as we have said. Now, to say 2. that we must act according to right reason is a Explana- general maxim, and let it be assumed ; but we ^\°^ °f "P" will speak hereafter about it, and about the jl's^issJJ^ nature of right reason, and its relation to the for the other virtues.'' But this point must first be present, fidly granted, that everything said on moral sub- 3. « Aristotle discusses the nature of right reason (opBoQ \6yo^) in the sixth book. d2 ARISTOTLE'S [book Etiiics do not admit of exact - Actions tdmit )ecome so, we are best able to bear them. CHAP. III. That Virtue is concerned with Pleasures and Pains. But we must make the pleasure or pain which fol- 1. lows after acts a test of the habits ;f for he who Pleasure abstains from the bodily pleasures, and in this very ^"^ I'*"'" thing takes pleasure, is temperate ; but he who feels ^^^^^ orour pain at it is intemperate ; and he who meets dangers habits. and rejoices at it, or at least feels no pain, is brave ; but he who feels pain is a coward ; for moral virtue is con- versant with pleasures and pains j for by reason of pleasure we do what is wicked, and through pain 2 we abstain from honourable acts. Therefore it is importan<:4 necessary to be in some manner trained imme- of early diately from our childhood, as Plato says,6 to feel p^I'*'^'^'"^ * For example, circumstances of danger produce, improve, and educate courage ; and it is in the same circumstances that tlie energies of the brave man are called forth a>nd exerted. ' This is another instance of the practical turn of Aristotle's mind. We can scarcely have a more useful test. So long as any uneasiness or pain is felt at doing any action, we may be quite sure that the habit is imperfectly formed. ^ Plato (de Leg. ii.) says, iXtvw toivvv tCjv rraiSbtv vat^iKqv tlvai TrpioTTiv xiaQriaiVy iiCovriv Kal Xvirriv. ARISTOTLE'S [book n. Virtue is not oTrd- Additiouul consider- ations. pleasure and pain afc propei objects , for this is , right education. Again, if the virtues are conver- ' sant with actions and passions, and pleasure aud pain are consequent upon every action and passion , on this account, also, virtue must be conversant with pleasures and pains. Pumshments also, wliich 4. are inflicted by means of pleasure and pain, indi- cate the same tiling ; for they are kinds of reme- dies, and remedies natm-ally work by contraries. Again, as we said before, every habit of the soul lias a natural relation and reference to those things by which it naturally becomes better and worse. But habits become bad by means of pleasures and pains, by pursuing or avoiding either improper ones, or at improper times, in improper ways, oi' improperly in any other manner, which reason determines. 5, Hence some have even defined the virtues to be certain states of apathy and tranquillity ;^ but not coiTectly, in that they speak absolutely, and not in relation to propriety of time or manner, and so on through the other categories. Therefore virtue is supposed to be such as we have said, in relation to pleasures and pains, and apt to practise the best things ; and vice is the contrary. These subjects may also become plain to us from the following considerations. Since there are three things which lead us to choice, and three to aver- sion, — the honourable, the expedient, and the plea- sant ; and tlu-ee contraries to them, — the disgraceful, the inexpedient, and the painful ; on all these sub- jects the good man is apt to be right in liis actions, and the bad man is apt to be wiong, and especially on the subject of pleasure ; for this is common to all li^dng creatures, and accompanies all things which are the objects of choice; for both the honourable and the expedient appear pleasant. Again, from our infancy it has grown up with all of " The Cynics, and after them the Stoics and Epicureans, adopted this theory of virtue ; it is probable that Aristotle ii here alluding to it as an opinion held by Socrates. CHAP. IV.] ETHICS. 39 us ; and therefore it is difficult to rub out this affec- tion, which is, as it were, engrained in our veiy 8. existence. Again, we make pleasiu-e and pain the inile of our actions, some of us in a gi'eater, some in less degree. For this reason, therefore, it is neces- 'sary that our whole business must be 'vvith these subjects ; for, to feel pleasure or pain, properly or improperly, makes no slight difference to our ac- tions. Again, it is more difficult to resist pleasure 9^ than anger, as Heraclitus says, and both art and excellence are always conversant with that which is more difficult ; for excellence in this case is superior. So that, for this reason also, the whole business of virtue, and political philosophy, must be with pleasures and pains j for he who makes a proper use of these will be good, and he who makes a bad use will be bad. Now on the point that 10. virtue is conversant with pleasui'es and pains, and Virtue and that it is increased and destroyed by means of the ^'^^' ^°"" same tilings from which it originally sprung, when ^j^i^ j^^^^ they are differently cu'cumstanced ; and that its sure and energies are employed on those things out of which pain, it oiTginates, let enough have been said. CHAP. lY. That Men become just and temperate by per/orminff just aiid temperate Actions. l^UT a person may be in difficulty as to what we 1. mean when we say that it is necessaiy for men to How men become just by performing just actions, and tem- J^^^^'f ^ ^*' perate by performing temperate ones j^ for if they j^j^g ^f^, * The ethical student of course will not fail to consult on tuous ac- this subject Bishop Butler's Analogy ; he will there observe not tions. only the parallelism between his moral theory and that of Aristotle, but also the important distinction which he draws between practical habits and passive impressions. " In like manner," he says, "as habits belonging to the body are pro- duced by external acts, so habits of the mind are produced by •iO ARISTOTLE'S [book ii. do just and temperate actions, they are alieady just and temperate ; just as, if they do grammatical and musical actions, they are grammarians and 2. musicians. Or, is this not the case in the arts also 1 Ih? case for it hi possible to do a grammatical action acci- tte arts" dentally, or at another's suggestion. A man, there^ and the ^^^^) ""^ ^^^7 ^^^T^ he a gi^amraarian, when he not ▼irtues. only does a grammatical action, but also does it grammatically, that is, in accordance with the grammatical science, which he possesses in himself. 3. Again, the case is not similar in the arts and in What con- the vii-tues, for the productions of art have their acUon viTl excellence in themselves. It is enough, then, that tuous. these shoiild themselves be of a certain character ; but acts of virtue are done justly and temperately, not, if they have themselves a certain character, but if the agent, being himself of a certain chaiticter, perform them : first, if he does them knowuigly ; then if with deliberate choice, and delibei-ate choice on their own account ; and, thirdly, if he does them on a fixed and unchangeable principle. Now as to In the arts* ^^® possession of all other arts, these qualifications, mere know- with the exception of knowledge, do not enter into ledge is the calculation ; but towards the possession of the sufficient, virtues, knowledge has little or no weight ; but the other qualifications are not of small, but rather of Just ac- infinite importance, since they arise fi*om t]ie fre- quent pmctice of just and temperate actions. 5. Acts then are called just and temperate, wlien • they are such as the just or temperate man would do ; but he who perfonns these acts is not a just and tempei-ate man, but he who perfonns them in such a manner as just and temperate men do the exertion of inward practical principles ; i. e. by carrying them into act, or acting upon them ; — the principles of obe- dience, of veracity, justice, and charity. But going over tlue theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine pictures of it, may harden the mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually more insensible ; i. e. form a habit of insensibility to all moral considerations. For from our very faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being repeated, gro* weaker." — Anal. Part I. ch. v tionf. Just man, tHAi'. v.] ZfHlCS. 41 them.'' Ir is well said, therefore, that from perform- 6. ing just actions, a man becomes jnst ; und from performing temperate ones, temperate ; but with- out performing them no person would even be likely to become good. But the generality of men 7. do not do these tilings, but taking refuge in words, A common they think that they are philosophers, and that in ^r^^J °" tliis manner they will become good men ; and what they do is like what sick people do, who listen attentively to their physicians, and then do not attend to the things which they prescribe. Just as these, then, will never be in a good state of body under such treatment, so those will never be in a good state of mind, if this is their philosophy. CHAP. Y. What Uthe'' Genus " of Virtue. That it is a Habit. But we must next find out what the genus of 1 . virtue is. Since, then, the qualities which have their In the so a origin in the soul are three, — Passions, Capacities, Ij^^""^ ^^^ and Habits, — Virtue must be some one of these, qualities. By passions, I mean, Desire, Anger, Fear, Confi- 2. dence. Envy, Joy, Love, Hatred, Regret, Emulation, UaBrj. Pity ; in a word, those feelings which are followed by pleasure or pain ; by capacities, those qualities 3. by means of which we are said to be able to be ^vvanfi„, imder the influence of these passions ; as those by means of which we are able to feel anger, pain, or pity ; by habits, tliose by means of which we are 4. well or iU disposed with relation tc the passions ;"i:^uc. as with relation to being made angry, if we feci '' Cicero, giving a short analysis of the doctrines of the Old Academy and Peripatetics (nihil enim inter Peripateticos et illam veterem Academiam differebat), thus describes their doc- trine of moral virtue : — " Morura autem putabant studia esse et quasi consuetudinem (tOog) : quam partim exercitationis assiduitate, partim ratione formabant ; in quibus erat philoso- phia ipsa. In qua quod inchoatum est neque absolutum pro- j;re?5io qusedam ad virtutem appellatur : quod autem absolutum, \d est virtus, quasi perfectio naturse." — Acad. i. 5. Brewer, 42 ARISTOTLE'S [book ii. anger too vehemently or too remissly, we are ill disposed ; if we do it moderately, well disposed ; and in like manner with relation to the others. 5. Neither the viitues, therefore, nor the vices are VN hy nr- passions ; because we arc not called good or bad ?ice are according to our passions, but according to our not TiCiOij. virtues or vices, and because we are neither pi*aised nor blamed according to our passions (for the man who fears or is angiy, is not praised ; nor is the man who is simply angry, blamed ; but the man who is angry in a certain way) ; but according to our ^' virtues and vices, we are praised or blamed. Again, we feel anger and fear without deliberate preference ; but the virtues are acts of deliberate preference, or at any rate, not without deliberate preference. But besides these things, we are said to be "moved" by om* passions, but we are not said to be moved, but in some way to be " disposed," '■ by our virtues 7. and vices. For these reasons, also, they are not dvva fi capacities ; for we are neither called good nor bad, neithei* praised nor blamed, for our being able to feel passioub simply. And again, we have our capacities by nature ; but we do not become good or bad by nature ; but of tliis we have already 8. spoken. If, then, the virtues are neither passions ^"^^^^^s nor capacities, it remains that they are habits. *^* What, therefore, the " genus " of virtue is, has been sufficiently shown. ' Aristotle (Categ. c. vi. 4) thus explains the difference between disposition {CidOemg) and habit (jilig) : — " Habit is more lasting and more durable than disposition. The forraeir term applies to the sciences, virtues, ike. ; the latter to such states as are easily and quickly changed ; as heat and cold, sick- ness and health." This verbal argument is an indication of the importance which the Aristotelian philosophy attaches to language. Verbal arguments are seldom very conclusive, but as doubtless words are the signs of things and ideas, there are instances, like the present, in which such arguments fse o* some value. The definition of terms was Aristotle's passion. The following is, according to Aspasius, quoted byMichelet, the relation between Svvafug, ivipytin, and 'ihg. " Facultas a natura insita jam est potentia qusedam, sed nondum vobis, ut loquimur, potentia, cujus ex ipso vigore operatio profluat j lianc demum potentiam pbilosophus habitum vocat.** 3H>r v(3 FTHICS. M CHAP. VI. T^at Virtue is a mean state, an. I how it i* to. But it is necessary not only to say that virtne is a 1. habit, but also what sort of a habit it is. We rmst ~*^'" ^^ f' say, tlierefore, that every virtue ^ both makes that of which it is the virtue to be in a good state, and makes its work good also ; for instance, the virtue of the eye makes both the eye and the work of the eye good ; for by the virtue of the eye we see well. In like manner, the virtue of a horse makes a horse 2. good, and good in speed, and in carrying its rider, and in standing the attack of the enemy. If, then, this is the case in all instances, the virtue of man also must be a habit, from which man becomes good, and from which he will perform his work well. But how this will be, we have already stated.*^ And 3. again, it will be made manifest in the following ^. ^^^^' manner, if we investigate the specific nature of jg ^ ^^ga,^ virtue. Now, in all quantity, continuous or divi- {n'taov,) eible, it is possible to take the gi'eater, the less, or the equal ; and these either with relation to the thing itself, or to ourselves ; but the equal is some 4. mean between excess and defect. But by the mean This is with relation to the thing itself, I mean that which twofold, is equidistant from both of the extremes, and this 1. ToD is one and the same in all cases ; but by the mean, Tpay/za- with relation to ourselves, I mean that which is j^^e) ^° neither too much nor too little for us. But this * , is not one and the same to all ; as, for example, if ,)ua/(i-ela ten is too many, and two too few, six is taken for tive). the absolute mean, for it exceeds two as much as it is exceeded by ten. But this is the mean according 5. to aiithmetical proportion. But the relati\'e mean "' The word ctptrfi means not only moral virtue but th« excellence and perfection of anything whatever. Thus Cicero says (de Leg. i. 8) : ** Est autern virtus nihil aliud quam in 86 perfccta et ad summum perducta natura." " See Book II. ch. U. 44 ARISTOTLE'S [book n Ls not to be taken in tLis manner ; for it does nut follow, tliat if ten pounds are too much for any per- son to eat, and two pounds too little, the trainin;^- master will prescribe six pounds ; for perhaps this is too much or too little for the person who is to eat it. For it is too little for Milo,^ but too mueli for one just commencing gymnastics ; and the case is similar in running and wrestling. Thus, then, Virtue every person who has knowledge shuns the excess seeks the ^^^^ ^j^^ defect, but seeks for the mean, and chooses mean. ^* ^ ^°* *^^® absolute mean, but the relative one. G. If, then, eveiy science accomplishes its work Why virtue well, by keeping the mean in view, and directing consists m ^^g yf^Q^ks to it (whence people are accustomed to say of excellent works, that it is impossible to take anything away, or add anj^liing to them, since excess and defect destroy the excellence, but the being in the mean preserves it), and if good artisans, as we may say, perform their work, keeping this in \-iew, then virtue, being, like nature, more accurate and excellent than any art, must be apt to hit the 7- mean. But I mean moral virtue ; for it is con- versant with passions and actions ; and in these there is defect and excess, and the mean ; as, for example, we may feel fear, confidence, desire, anger, pity, and, in a word, pleasure and pain, both too much and too little, and in both cases improperly. But the time when, and the cases in which, and the persons towards whom, and the motive for which, and the manner in which, constitute the mean and the excellence ; and this is the character- istic property of virtue. 8. In like manner, in actions there are exces.s and defect, and the mean ; but vii-tue is conveisaut with passions and actions, and in them excels is wrong, and defect is blamed, but the mean is praised, and is correct j and both these are properties of • The story of Milo is well known : — " Remember Milo's end, Wedged m the timbers which he strove to rend." Jloscomvicn. jHAi'. vi.j h:thics ib virtue. Yirtue, then, is a kind of mean state, being at least apt to hit the mean. Again, it is pos- 9^ »ible to go wrong in many ways (for evil, as the To hit th« Pv'thagoreans conjectured, is of the nature of the "|^«" '» infinite, but good of the finite?) ; but we can go "''"^'""• right in one way only ; and for this reason the former is easy, and the latter difi&cult ; it is easy to miss a mark, but difficult to hit it ; and for these reasons, therefore, the excess and defect belong to vice, but the mean state to virtue ; for, " we are go^d^ in one way only, but bad in all sorts of vvays." Vii'tue, therefore, is a " habit, accompanied with 10. ileliberate preference, in the relative mean, defined j ?"f, by reason, and as the piTident man would define it." It is a mean state between two vices, one ill excess, the other in defect; and it is so, more- over, because of the vices one division falls short < f, and the other exceeds what is right, both in J assions and actions, whilst virtue discovers the mean and chooses it. Therefore, with reference n. to its essence, and the definition which states its Virtue is s\ibstance,i \'irtue is a mean state ; but with re- ^^^^ ^^ ference to the standard of "the best" and "the^fJT^^, excellent," it is an extreme. But it is not every ' ' action, nor every passion, which admits of the ^2. mean state ; for some have their badness at once implied in their name ; as, for example, malevolence, shamelessness, envy ; and amongst actions, adultei^', theft, homicide. For all these, and such as these, nre so called from their being themselves bad, not because their excesses or defects are bad. In these, then, it is impossible ever to be right, but we must 13. always be wrong. Nor does the right or wrong in Buch cases as these depend at ail uj^on the person with whom, or the time when, or the manner in r See the co-ordinate catalogue of goods adopted by the Pythagoreans, given p. 11„ ^ The original expression, here translated ** substance," is ro ri ijv tlvai' litereilly, " the being what it is." This la equivalent to " substance or essential nature." 46 ARISTOTLE'S [book ii, which, adultery is committed ; but absolutely tho doing of any one of these things is wrong. It would be equally absurd, then, to require a mean state, and an excess, and a defect, in injustice, and cowardice, and intemperance. For thus there would 14. be a mean state of excess and defect, and an excess of excess, and a defect of defect. But just as theie is no excess and defect of temperance and courage (o-Nving to the fact that the mean is in some sense an extreme), so neither in the case of these i^ there a mean state, excess, or defect ; but however they be done, sin is committed. For, in a word, there is neither a mean state of excess and defect, nor an excess and defect of a mean state. CHAP. VII. An Enumeration of Mean Habits, 1. But it is necessary that this should not only bo An indue- stated generally, but that it should also be applicable particular *^ *^® particular cases ; for in discussions on subjects virtues, to ^^ moral action, univei*sal statements are apt to be show that too "vague, but particular ones are more consistent virtue is a with truth ; for actions are conversant %vdth par- ^^^^' ticulars; but it is necessaiy that the statements should agree with these. Tliese particulars, then, 2. we must get from the diagi'am.'^ Now, on the Courage, subject of fear and confidence, courage is the mean state. Of the persons who are in excess, he who is in the excess of fearlessness has no name ; but there are many cases ^vithout names ; and he who is in the excess of confidence, is called rash ; but he who is in the excess of fear, but in the defect of confidence, is cowardly. 3. On the subject of pleasures and pains (but not all Temper- pleasures and pains, and less in the case of painfj ' Probably some diagram to which he referred during th« oral delivery of his lectures. CHAP. VII.] ETHICS. 47 than pleasures), temperance is the mean state, and intemperance the excess. But there are, in fact, none who are in the defect on the subject of pleasures ; therefore these also have no name ; but let them be called insensible. On the subject of the giving and receiving of**, money, libei-ality is the mean state, and the excess *^'^erahty, and defect, prodigality and illiberality. But in these, the excess and defect are mutually contrary to each other j for the prodigal man is in the excess in giving money, but is in the defect in re- ceiving ; but the illiberal man is in the excess in receiving, but in the defect in giving. Now, there- fore, we are speaking on these points as in an out- line, and summarily, because we consider this suffi- cient ; but afterwards more accurate distinctions shall be drawn respecting them. But on the subject of money there are other dis- 5. positions also : magnificence is a mean state ; but Magnifi- the magnificent man difiers jfrom the liberal man ; ^^"^^• for one has to do with great things, the other with small ones ; the excess is bad taste and vulgar pro- fusion, the defect shabbiness. But these differ from the vices wliich are related to liberality ; but their ]ioints of difference shall be stated hereafter. On the subject of honour and dishonour, mag- 6. nanimity is the mean ; the excess, a vice called Magnani- empty vanity ; the defect, meanness of spirit. ^^^^' But as we said that liberality, when compared 7. with magnificence, differed from it in being con- Anony- cerned with small things, so there is a kind of feeling ^°H^^/^*^ which, being itself about small honour, has the same relation to magnanimity, wliich is about gi'eat ho- nour ; for it Is possible to desire honour as we ought, and more than we ought, and less than we ought. Now he who Is in the excess in the desii'e of honour 8. is called ambitious, and he who is in the defect unambitious, but he that is in the mean has no name ; and the dispositions are likewise nameless, except that of the ambitious, which is called ambi- tion; and from this cause the extremes claim the 49. ARISTOTLE'S [kook n. 9. middle place. And we sometimes call liim who is in the mean ambitious, and sometimes unambitious ; and sometimes we praise the ambitious man, and sometimes the man who is unambitious. But here- after the reason why we do this will be explained ; but now let us go on speaking of the others in the way in which we have begun. 10. There are also on the subject of anger an excess, Meekness, j^ defect, and a mean state ; but since they may be said to be nameless, and as we call liim who is in the mean meek, we will call the mean meekness ; but of the extremes, let liim who is in excess be called passionate, and the vice passion ; liim who is in defect insensible to anger, and the defect insensi- Ijility to anger. 1 ' • There are also three other mean states, which are /. , "^^^^ somewhat ahke, but yet differ from each other ; for j^gg they all have to do with the intercourse of words and actions ; but they differ, in that one respects truth, the other two pleasantness ; and of tliis there is a subdivision, namely, pleasantness in spoi-t, and pleasantness in all things wliich concern 12. life. We must therefore treat of these also in order to see more distinctly that the mean state is in all cases praiseworthy, and the ex- tremes neither light nor praiseworthy, but blame- 13. able. Now the greater number of these likewise are nameless ; but we must endeavour, as in the othei* cases, to make names ourselves, for the 14. sake of clearness and perspicuity. On the sub- ject of truth, therefore, let him who is in the mean be called tmthful, and the mean trutlifulness ; but tlie pretence to tiiithfulness on the side of excess is arrogance, and he who has it is arrogant ; that on the side of defect is false modesty, and the person 15. falsely modest. On the subject of pleasantness m sport, he wLo is in the mean is a man of graceful wit, and the disposition graceful wit ; ^ the excess ribaldry, and the person ribald ; he who is in defect • EvThmreXia, Sse note to translation of Rhet c. ii. 12, p. 152. CHAP, vir.: ETHICS. 49 a cloA^Ti, and tlie liabii clowiiishuess. With respect Itl. to the remaining pleasantness, namely, in all tilings which concern life, he who is pleasant as he shoTild be is fnendly, and the mean state fiiendliness : he who is in excess, if it be done without any object in view, is over-complaisant, if for his own advantag«\ a flatterer ; but he who is in the defect, and in all cases unpleasant, is quan'elsome and morose. But there are also mean states both in the pas- 17. sions and also in cases which concern the passions ; The pai- for modesty is not a \'ii"tue ; and yet the modest man ^^"^f* is praised ; for in this case also there is one who is ''' said to be in the mean, another in the extreme, of excess (as the bashful, who is ashamed at eveiy- thing) ; the man who is deficient in shame, or does not feel it at all, is impudent ; but he who is in the mean is modest. But indignation* is a mean state 18. between envy and malevolence ; but these affections indig-- ai'e concerned with the pain and pleasure wliich are "^^'o^^* felt at the circumstances of om* neighboiu-s j for he who is apt to feel indignation, feels pain at those who are undeservedly successful ; but the envious man, going beyond him, feels pain at every one's success ; and the malevolent man falls so far short of being pained, that he ev?n rejoices. But 19. in another place, also, we shall have an opportunity of speaking of these things, and on the subject of justice" also, since the word is used not in one sense only. Aftei'wards we will divide these subjects, and state respecting each in what way they are means. We will in like manner treat of the in- tellectual virtues. * On the subject of indignation (vtfitmg} see Rhetoric, Book II. ch. ix. ■ Justice is treated of in Book V. The view which Aris- totle there takes of it is exactly that which we should expect of one who considers ethics as a branch of political science, for it will be seen that he considers Justice as a link between Ethic* and Politics, the connecting virtue between the individual ajitl the social community. no AHISTOTlJt ooOK u. CHAP. YIII. Huw Virtues and Vices are opposed to one another. 1. But since tliefre are tlifee dispositions, — ^two viciouB, The mean one in excess and tlie other in defect, and one and the ^dl•tuous, namely, the mean state, they ai-e all in are opposed some sense opposed to each other ; for tlie extremes in three are opposed both to tlie mean state and to each ways. other, and the mean state to the extremes. For as 2. the equal when compared with the less is greater, The mean and when compared with the gi-eater is less ; sc» to the ex- ^j^^ mean states when compared with the defects are in excess, and when compared with the excesses are in defect, both in the passions and in the actions; for the brave man in comparison with the coward appears rash, and in comparison with 3. the I'ash man a coward. In like manner also the temperate man in comj^arison with the insensible is intemperate, and in comparison with the intem- perate is insensible ; and the liberal man in com- paiison with the illiberal is prodigal, and in com- pai'ison with the prodigal is illiberal. 4. Therefore those who are in the extreme thinist away from them him who is in the mean state, each to the other, and the coward calls the brave man rash, and the rash man calls him a coward ; and so 5. on in the other cases. But though they ai-e thus The ex- opposed to each other, there is a greater opposition tremes to between the extremes one to the other, than to the eacij lei . j-^^^^^j^ ^ ^^j, ^i^ese stand further apaii; from each other than from the mean ; just as the great is further from the small, and the small from the 0, great, than either from the equal. Again, there appears in some extremes some resemblance to the mean, as rashness seems to resemble courage, and pro^ digality liberality ; but there is the greatest dissimi- larity between the extremes. Now things that are fm-thest apart from each other are defined to be CHAP. IX.] ETHICS. M opposites ; so that tliose that are furtlier off arc more opposite. But in some cases the defect is more op- 7^ ))osed to the mean, and in some cases the excels ; Extremes to as, for example, rashness, which is the excess, is not tl»e means so much opposed to coui'age as cowardice, which is *" ^""^ the defect; and insensibility, which is the defect, \,\i'avToo IS less opposed to temperance than intemperance, tou irpuj- which is the excess. /xaror. But this happens for two reasons; the first from ** ,^ , the nature of the thing itself; for from one extreme '^^ 'f '''/*•**' being nearer and more like the mean than the other, it is not this but its opposite which we set down as most opposite ; as, since rashness appears to be nearer and more like courage than cowardice, and cowardice less like than i-ashness, we oppose cowardice to courage rather than rashness, because those things that are further fi*om the mean aj>pear to be more opposite to it. This, therefore, is one 9. T'cason arising from the nature of the thing itself ; the other originates in ourselves ; for tliose tilings to wliich we are more naturally disposed, appear to be more contraiy to the mean ; as, for instance, we are more naturally disposed to pleasures, and there- fore we are more easily carried away to intem- perance than to propiiety of conduct. These, then, to which the incHnation is more decided, we call more opposite ; and for tliis reason, intemj-^erance, wliich is the excess, is more opposite to temjierance. CHAP. IX. How we shall arrive at the Mean and at Excellence. Now that moral virtue is a mean state, and how, 1, and that it is a mean state between two vices, one Recapitu- on the side of excess, and the other on the side of [v^^°",°? defect ; and that it is so from being apt to aim at j^qq]^^ the mean in passions and actions, has bt/cu suffi- ciently proved. It is therefore difficult also to be 2. b2 52 ARISTOTLF/S [book a Difficult good ; for in eacli case it is difficult to find tlie to be good, mean ; just as it is not in every man's power, but only in the power of him who knows how, to find the centre of a circle ; and thus it is easy, and in cvei-y man's power, to be angry, and to give and spend Rules for money ; but to determine the pei-son to whom, anJ discovering the quantity, and the time, and the motive, and the t le mean, njaj^ej.^ ig HO longer in every man's power, nor is it easy ; therefore excellence is rare, and pi-aise- 3. worthy, and honourable. It is therefore needfu) 1st rule. for him who aims at the mean, first to keep away from that extreme which is more contrary , like the advice that Calypso gave :^ '* Keep the ship clear of this smoke and surge." For of the extremes, one is more and one les? erroneous. 4. Since, then, it is difficult to hit the mean exactlv, we must, as our second trial,^ choose the least of these evils ; and this \vill be best done in the man- 2nd rule, ner which we have stated. But it is necessary to consider to which of the vices we oui^selves are most inclined ; for some of us are naturally dis- posed to one, and some to another ; and this we shall be able to discover from the pleasure and pain which arise in us. But it is necessary to drag ourselves aAvay towards the opposite extreme ; foi by bringing ourselves far from the side of error, we shall arrive at the mean ; as people do with crooked 5. sticks to make them straight. But in every case 3rd rule, we must be most upon our guai'd against what is pleasant, and pleasure, for we are not unbiassed » * Aristotle has here evidently quoted from memory, and gubstituted Calypso for Circe. See Horn. Od. xii. 219. " Bear wide thy course, nor plough those angry waves, Where rolls yon smoke, yon trembling ocean raves." Pope. ^ The proverb *' Kara, rhv dfVTfoov ttXouv'* is thus ea. plained by the Scholiast to the Phaedo of Plato : — *' Those who fail in their first voyage, make secure preparations foi AiMtSr second." * Aik / ' ~ \ . norance is «= By the expression '* acting ignorantly {ayvooiv) is pardonabU meant ignorance of the principle. This is considered by all ^ moralists and jurists voluntary, and therefore blameable, as it is assumed that all persons are, or ought to be, acquainted with the principles of right and wrong, and with the law of the land . To act " through ignorance " (^i' dyvoiav) signifies ignorance of the fact. If an action of this kind is followed by repent- ance, Aristotle calls it involuntary (aKovcriov), and therefore considers it excusable ; but if not repented of, he terms it non-voluntary (ouk iKov(noi>)f and pronounces it unpardon- tble. M ARISTOTT.R'S [book m. many there are A tJiem, and who the pei^on ia who acts, and what he does, and about what and in what case he does it ; and sometimes with what, aa the instrument ; and from what motive, as safety > 1 8. and in what manner, as gently or violently. No person except a madman could be ignorant of all these particulars ; and it is clear that he cannot be ignorant of the agent, for how could he be ignorant of himself? But a man might be ignorant of what he does, as those who say that they had forgotten themselves, or that they did not know that they were forbidden to speak of it, as -^schylus said respecting the mysteries ;^ or that, wishing to ex- liibit an engine, he let it off by mistake, an the man 19. let off the catapult. Again one might fancy one's son an enemy, as did Merope ;^ and that a sharp- ened spear was rounded at the point, or that a stone was pumice ; and, striking a person in order to save him, might kill liim, and Avishing to show a liit, as boxei-s do when they spar, might strike a 20. pei*son. Ignomnce, therefore, being possible on all these circumstances connected with the act, he who was ignoi*ant of any one of these, seems ta have acted involuntarily, and particularly in the principal circumstances ; but the piincipal circum- stances appear to be those of the act itself, and the motive. But though involuntarineas is said to consist in such ignorance aa this, still the act must be painful, and followed by repentance. 21 . But, since the involuntary is that which is done Definition through constraint and that which is done through voluntary, igi^orance, it woidd appear that the voluntaiy is ** A Greek scholiast says, that ^schylus, in five of his tra- gedics, spoke of Demeter, and therefore may be supposed in these cas2s to have touched upon subjects connected with the mysteries; and Ileraclides of Pontus says, that on this account he was in danger of being; killed by the populace, if he had not fled for refuge to the altar of Dionysus, and been begged ofl by the Areopagites, and acquitted on the grounds of his ex- ploits at Marathon. « The Cresphcntes of Euripides is mentioned by Aristotle ir his Poetics; in the denouement Merope recognizes her son when on the point of killing him. CHAP. 11.] ETHICi, t)y that of wlii^n the principle is in the doer himself, having a knowledge of the particulars, namely, the circumstances of vhe act ; for perhaps it is not Why acta correct to say tha t the acts of au'^ier or desire are ^^ne fiom involuntaiy. For if so, in the first place, no other ^^[q\^^^ living creature except man, and no cliildren, will are not in. be voluntary agents ; and in the second place, voluntary, we may ask the question, is no one of the acts of 22. desire or anger, which we do, done voluntarily ? or are the good ones done voluntarily, but the bad ones involuntarily ? or is it not ridiculous to make such distinctions, when the cause of both is one an'hich some things about wliicli there is no il«^liberaiion 1 cannot be jg^t perhaps we must call that an objec: of delihc- matt^^^T ^*^*^°^^.- ^^>('^^^- which, not a fool or a madman, bnt a 3ov\}) reasonal)lo r.ian would deliberate. About tilings 2. eternal no man dclibera'es, as about the world, or the diagonal and tho side of a Fquare,' th :t they are incommensui*able ; nor yet about things in motion, which always go on in the same manner, whether it be from necessity, or nature, or any other cause, as the solstices and the sunrise ; nor j^et about things which are different at different times, as droughts and showers ; nor about things accidental, as the finding of a treasure ; nor yet about ever}i;hing human, as no Lacedaemonian deliberates how the Scythians might be best go- verned ; for none of these things could be done 3. through our own agency. But we deliberate about those subjects of action which are in our ovni power ; and these are the cases which remain ; foi the princii)les of causation appear to be. Nature Necessity, and Chance ; and, besides these, Mind, and all that takes place through the agency of man. But each individual man deliberates about those subjects of action which are in his own power. And res2)ecting the exact and self-sufiicient sciences, there is no deliberation ; as I'especting letters, foi 4. we do not doubt how we ought to write. But Object- we deliberate about all those things which happen matter of ]jy q^j. q^j^ means, and not always in the same *** ' ''* manner ; as about the art of medicine, of finance, and the art of navigation, more than gymnastics, inasmuch as it is less exactly described : and likewise about the rest ; and more about the arts than the sciences ;° for we debate more about * The diagonal and side of a square are incommensurable ; for let the side = a, then the diagonal = -^2 • a, and ^2 cannot be expressed by a finite number. s We debate more about the arts than the sciences, because the former are concerned with contingent matter, the latter with necessary matter. Still, however, the Greeks divided the M'iences into aKpi^tlg and wer of seeing the things which biv. long unto our peace. 30U CHAP, v.] ETHICS. 69 gymnastic exercises or through carelessness. The 13. case is the same with weakness and mutilation; for no person would blame a man who is bom blind, or who is blind from disease, or a blow, but would rather pity him ; but everybody would blame the man who is bHnd from drunkenness, or any other intemperance. Now of the faults of the body, those which are in oiu' own power are blamed, but those which are not in our own power are not blamed. And if this is true, it will follow that in the case of faults of every other description those which are blamed must be in our own power. But if any one should say that all men aim at 14. the apparent good, but that they have not power ^h/rd over their own imagination, and that, according ° ^^^ ^^° to the character of each individual, is the end which presents itself to liim ; if, as we have said, every person is in sopne way the cause of his own habit, he will be in some way the cause of his own imagination. But if no one is to himself the 15. cause of his doing bad actions, but he does them Fourth through ignorance of the end, thinking that by objection, these means he will have what is best ; and that the aiming at the end by wliich he judges well, and will choose the true good, is not a matter of choice, but that it is necessary for a man to be bom with it, as with the faculty of sight ; and he is well gifted by nature, who is bom with this good faculty ; (for he will have a most honourable and excellent thing, and one which he cannot get or learn from any other person, but wliich he must have just as he has it by nature, and to have this well and excellently by nature constitutes perfect and true natui-al goodness ;) if this be true, how can virtue be more voluntary than vice 1 for to both the good and the bad man alike the end is, by nature, or in some way apparent and laid down ; and referring everything else to this, they act ac- cordingly. Whether then the end does not appear iq^ by nature to every man of one kind or other, but Fourth the li^'ht in which it presents itself depends in reason. r« ARISTOTLE'S [book m. some measure upon himself; or whether the end k by nature fixed, and from the good man's per- forming the means voluntarily, virtue is voluntaiy ; in both cases vice is just as voluntary as virtue ; for the bad man is just as much, a voluntary agent 17. in his actions as the good man. If then, as is said, Fifth rea- the virtues are voluntary, (for we are in some sense 80"^ joint causes of our habits, and from our being of a certain character, we propose to ourselves the same kind of end,) the vices must be voluntary also , 18. for they are just as much so as the virtues. Now The ar- about the virtues we have spoken generally ; we ^mm^d up. -^^^^ ^^ ^ outline, as it were, that they are mean * states, and that they are habits ; we have stated from what things they derive their origin, and that these things they are themselves apt to practise ; that they are in our own power, that they are voluntary, and that they are imder the direction of right reason. 19. But the actions and the habits are not in the Habits not q^j^q manner voluntary ; for we are masters of our as^act^onsT ^^i^^s from the beginning to the end, since we know the particulars ; but we are masters only of the beginning of our habits ; but the addition of particulars we are not aware of, as we are in the case of sicknesses ; but because it was in our power to make this or that use of particulars in the first 20. instance, on this account they are voluntary. Let us then take up the virtues again separately, and state what they are, what their subjects are, and how they are virtues ; and it wiQ be at the same time clear how many there are : and first of courage. CHAP. YI. The definition of Couraye. 1. Now that courage is a mean state on the subjects Courage, of fear and confidence has been already made appa- CHAi'.vr.] ETHICS. 71 rent : but it is eviiloiit that we fear tilings terrible ; and these are, to speak generally, evils ; and there- fore people define fear "the expectation of evil." Fear. Now we fear all evils, as disgrace, povei-ty, disease, 2. friendlessness, and death. But the brave man does not appear to have to do with all evils ; for some it is right and good to fear, and not to fear them is disgraceful, as, for example, not to fear disgrace ; for he who fears this is a worthy and modest man, and he who does not fear it is shameless. But by some people he is called brave, metaphorically ; for he bears some resemblance to the brave man ; for the brave man too is fearless. But poverty, perhaps, 3. and disease, and all those things which do not hap- Moral pen from vice, or oiu- own fault, it is not right to '^^^^^S^' fear; but yet the man who is fearless in these things is not brave. But liim, too, we call so, from the resemblance ; for some who in war are cowards, are liberal, and behave with courage under pecu- niary losses. Nor yet is a man a coward if he 4. is afraid of insult to his children and wife, or of envy, or anything of this kind ; nor is he brave if he feels confidence when about to be scourged.'" What sort of feaiful things, then, has the courageous 5^ man to do with ; the greatest 1 for no man is more Cases in able than he is to undergo terrible things ; but death which the is the most terrible of all tilings ; for it is a limit ;'^ gho^^^ou^ and it is thought that to the dead there is notliing ^age. beyond, either good or bad. And yet the brave man 6. does not appear to have to do with death in every Death is Re- form ; as at sea, and in disease. With what kinds ^«P'^''«''*'»'» of death, then 1 Is it with the most honourable ? Coura°-e But those that occur in war are of this kind, for in is not war the danger is the greatest and most honourable, shown in The public honours that are awarded in states and ^^ ^'"^^ °' by monarchs attest this. Properly, then, he who in the case of an honour- 8. "» Aristotle is here alluding to the severities of the Lace- dsemonian law. ° Mors ultima linea remm, — Hor. See on this subject, note, Book I. chap, ii. 72 ARISTOTLE'S [book in. able death, and under circumstances close at hand which cause death, is fearlesp, may be called courage- ous ; and the dangers of war are, more than any 9. others, of this description. Not but that the brave The cha- jj^g^j^ jg fearless at sea, and in sickness ; but not sailors not ^^^ *^^' same cause as seamen ; for the brave give truly cou- up all hope of safety, and are grieved at such a rageous. kind of death ; but seamen are sanguine, because 10. of their experience. Moreover, brave men show manliness in cases where there is room for exerting themselves, and in which death is honourable ; but in such deaths as those above-mentioned there is neither one of these conditions nor the other. CHAP. YII. Of the Brave Man, and those who are in the extremes on either side of Bravery. 1. But the terrible is not to all persons the same ; and <^o%tpa there is something which we say is beyond the fl^'ir*'' power of man to bear : this, therefore, is terrible to 2. eveiy man, at least to every man of sense. But rar' dv those which are within the power of man to bear OpuTTov. differ in magnitude, and in being some greater and some less ; and circumstances which cause con fidence differ likewise. But the brave man is fear- less, as becomes a man ; therefore at such things he will feel fear ; but he -wdll bear up, as far as right and reason dictate, for the sake of what is honourable ; for there is tliis same end to all the 3. virtues. But it is possible for these things to be feared too much and too little, and, again, for things not terrible to be feared as if they were so. But of faults, one is that the thing itself is not right ; another, that the manner is not right ; another, that the time is not right, and so on; and the case is similar with respect to things that 4. cause confidence. Now he who bears bravely, and CHAP, vii.] ETHICS. 73 who fears what he ought, and from the right mo- Brave rcna tive, and in the right manner, and at the right ^iefined. time, and feels confidence in like manner, is brave. For the brave man suffers and acts just as the nature of the case demands, and right reason war- rants. But the end of every energy is that which is ac- 5. cordiQg to the habit ; and coui'age is that which is honourable in the case of the brave man ; such therefore is his end ; for everything is defined by its end. For the sake, therefore, of what is honour- able, the brave man bears and performs those things which belong to coorage. But of those who are in S. the extreme of excess there are two kinds, one who -Ai'tt^y? is excessive in fearlessness, who is not named (and ^°'" we have before stated, that many of these extremes are not named) ; but he (if, as is said of the Celts," he fears nothing, neither earthquake nor waves) may be called mad or insensate. The other, who is ex- y. cessive in his confidence in terrible circumstances, is rash ; and the rash man is thought to be arro- epaiysTg. gant, and a pretender to courage. He then wishes to seem what the courageous man is in terrible cir- cumstances ; wherever he can, therefore, he imitates him. Most of these, therefore, are at once bold and cowardly ; for though they are bold in these cases, yet they do not bear up under circimistances of terror. But he who is excessive in fear is a cow- 8. AuXoi ard ; for he has all the attendant characteristics of fearing what he ought not, and as he ought not, and so forth ; besides, he is deficient in confidence ; but where he is called upon to bear pain, he more especially shows that he is in excess. Now the coward is desponding, for he fears everything ; but ^he brave man is just the reverse, for confidence belongs to the sanguine temper. With the same sub- 9. £^ei\6g, jects, therefore, are conversant the characters of the -x>a(Tt£:,*nd « Aristotle makes similar mention of the Celts (Eudem. Eth. iii. i.) : — olov oi KeXrot Trpbg toL Kvfiara oirXa atravTCJai \at6vTiQ. See also ^lian, Var. Hist. xii. 23 ; Strabo, vii.. p. 293 {Cardwell). ARISTOTLE'S [BOOK lit. at cptloc all conver- sant with the same things. 10. 11 Suicide an ct of cowardice. coward, tlie rash, and the bi-ave man, but tliey arc differently disposed with respect to them ; for the two first are in excess and defect ; the other is in the mean, and as he ought to be ; tlie rash are pre- cipitate, and though beforehand they are full ot eagerness, yet in the midst of dangers they stand aloof; the brave are in action full of spirit, but beforehand tranquil. As we said, therefore, courage is a mean state with respect to subjects of con- fidence and terror ; ^. e. in those which have been specified ; and it chooses and bears up, because it is honourable to do so, or because it is disgraceful not to do so. But to die, and thus avoid poverty or love, or anything painful, is not the pai-t of a brave man, but rather of a coward ; for it is cowardice to avoid trouble ^ and the suicide does not undergo death because it is honourable, but in order to avoid evil. Such, then, is the nature of courage. CHAP. YIIL Five other Forms of Courage. Five spu- rious kinds of courage. HoXiTiKr]. There are, besides this, five other fonns of courage spoken of : first, the political, for it is most like true courage ; for citizens seem to undergo dangers, on account of the rewards and punishments enacted by law, to avoid reproach and to obtain distinction. 2. And for this reason those nations appear to be the most valiant, among whom cowards are disgraced, and brave men honoured ; and it is charactei's ot this kind that Homer makes the heroes of Jiis poems, as Diomede and Hector, — " Polydamas will be the first to load me with reproach."? And Diomede says, " For Hector will ore day say, when speaking among the Trojans, The son of Tydeus 3. beneath my hand." But this most neai'ly resein- * See Horn. II. xxii. 100, or Pope's translation, line 140; and viii. 148, or Pope, line 179. CHAP, vni.] ETHICS. 75 bles the courage before mentioned, because it arises jfrom virtue ; for it arises from shame, and the de- sire of what is honoui-able, that is, distinction, and from shunning reproach, which is disgraceful. But 4. one might class Avith these those who a,re com- pelled by their commanders to fight ; but they are worse, inasmuch as they do it, not from shame, but from fear, and in order to avoid, not what is disgraceful, but what is painful ; for those who have power over them compel them, as Hector says, " Whomsoever I shall find crouching far away from the battle, it shall not be in his power to escape the dogs;"i and those who issue orders to* them, and strike them if they retreat, do the same ^ also those who draw up their men in front of trenches, or things of the kind, for they all use compulsion :^ a man must therefore be brave, not because he is compelled, but because it is honourable to be so. Again, experience on every subject appears to be 5. a kind of courage ; whence even Socrates thought 'Ek t^c that courage was a science.^ Now some people are t^Trttptaj, experienced in one thing, and some in another ; and in warlike matters soldiers are experienced ; for there seem to be many things in war new*^ to ^ There are two passages in the Iliad which bear a close resemblance to this ; one in which Agamemnon is speaking (II. ii. 391 ; Pope, 466) ; the other in which the words are Hector's (II. xv. 348 ; Pope, 396). ' Herodotus, in his account of the battle of Thermopylae, (vii. 223), says that the Persian officers stood behind the troops with whips, and with them drove the men onwards against tlxe enemy. • The moral theory of Socrates was, that as virtue was the only way to happiness, and no one could be willingly his own enemy, so no one could do wrong willingly. Hence, whoever did wrong did it through ignorance of right, and therefore virtue resolved itself into science {e-jri(TTr]fit]). Courage, there- fore, being a virtue, would be, according to this theory, a science likewise. * It is doubtful whether the reading here should be Kaivd (things new), or Ktvd (groundless terrors). The following expressions, — inania belli (Tacit. Hist. ii. 69), and scis enirn dici qusedam iraviKO., dici item to. Ktvd tov -koXbhov (Cic. ad Attic. V. 20), support the latter reading. On the other hand, 76 ARISTOTLE'S [book hi. other men, ^vitli which sohliers, more than any one olse, have become acquainted. They therefore ap- pear courageous, because all other people are not aware of the nature of these things ; besides, through their experience they are better able to do, and not to suffer, and to protect themselves, and to wound others, because they are able to use dexterously their arms, and because they have such arms as are best adapted for offence and defence. 6. In battle, therefore, they are like armed men against unarmed, and like professional wrestlers , against amateurs ; for in conflicts of this kind, it is not the bravest men, but those who have the gi^eatest strength, and who are in the best state of 7. body, who make the best fighters. Kow regular troops become cowardly when the danger sui'passes their experience, and when they are inferior in numbers or equipments ; for they are the first to fly ; but a native militia stands its ground, and dies, which happened in the Hermseum ;" for to them flight is disgraceful, and death is preferable to such safety; while the. others only expose them- selves to danger at the beginning, under the idea that they are superior ; but when they discover the true state of the case they fly, because they fear death more than disgrace. But this is not the character of the courageous man. 8. Again, some people refer anger to courage ; for Ek ^v^iov. ii^QQQ yf}^Q are borne on by anger, like wild beasts, against those who have wounded them, are thought to be coui-ageous ; because courageous men have the appearance of being under the influence of anger ; vofiiaavTSQ owk dWo rt elvat to kuivov tov TroXfjxov, k. t. X. (Thucyd. iii. 30), is in favour of the former. And this, Came- rarius, Car dwell, and Micltelet prefer. Bekker, however, adopts the latter reading. * The Greek scholiast inftrms us that the Hermaeum wa3 an open space in the city of Coronsea, in Boeotia. Here the Coronseans, assisted by some Boeotian auxiliary troops, fought an engagement with Nonarchus the Phocian, who had got possession of the citadel. In this battle the native troops stood their ground, and were all killed to a man ; the auxili- Ktita fled, on hearing of the death of one of their generals. CHAP. vni.J ETHICS. 77 for anger is a thing whicli above all others is apt to rush into dangers; whence Homer also says — " it infused strength into his soul." " it aroused his fury and rage." " he breathed stern fury thro' his nostrils." " his blood boiled." ^ For all such signs as these seem to denote the rousing and awakening of anger. Now brave men ^, act for tlie sake of what is honourable ; and anger co-operates Avith them; but beasts act from pain; for it is owing to their being struck or frightened ; at least when they happei^ to be in a wood or a marsh, they do not attack. Now it is not courage in them to rush into danger, because they are im- pelled by pain or rage, without foreseeing anything of the danger they incur. Since, according to such an idea, even asses would be brave when they are hungry ; for even when they are beaten they do not leave their pasture ; and adulterers also do many acts of daring through lust. Therefore those who from pain or rage are urged forward into danger are not brave. But that form of courage iq, which owes its origin to anger, appears to be more physical than the other forms ; but when deliberate preference and the proper motive are added, it becomes real courage. And men who are angry suffer pain, and when they have have satisfied their vengeance they feel pleasure ; but those whose courage is OAving to this feehng, are fond of fight- ing, but not really courageous ; for they do not act from the motive of the honoiu-able, nor according to the suggestion of reason, but in obedience to passion, and yet their courage bears a strong re- semblance to real courage. Nor yet are the sanguine courageous; for they 11. feel confidence in dangers, because they have ^* «^'«^»*« been victorious many times and over many oppo- ^^^' nents; but they resemble the courageous, because ^ The fourth quotation does not occur in either the Iliad or Odyssey, but in Theocritus, Id. xx. 15. — Michelet. T 10. CHAP. IX.] ETHICS. 79 in these Dases is undisturbed, and wio feels as he 5 property of tlie person wlio expends ; for tlie ex- pense must have proper relation to these things, and not only he appropriate to the work, but to the doer of the work also. Hence a poor man cannot 3^ be magnificent, for he has not property from wliich The poor he can expend large sums with propriety ; and the ™an cannot poor man who attempts it is a fool ; for it is incon- ^® "^^S^i- sistent with his rank, and with propriety ; but . excellence consists in doing it rightly. But magnifi- 9. cent actions become those, to whom magnificent pro- perty belongs previously, either by theii' own means, or their ancestors, or any witli whom they are con- nected ; they also become the nobly bom, the famous, and so on ; for all these have greatness and dignity. Such, then, is the character of the magni- ficent man as near as possible, and in such expenses is magnificence displayed ; for these are the greatest and most had in honour. But of private expenses, those are the most 10. magnificent which only happen for once ; as, for Private example, a wedding, and anytliing of that kind ; '"^S^^fi* or anything in which the whole city, or the princi- ^ pal people, take an interest, and those which relate to the reception and dismissal of strangers, and to honorary gifts and recompenses ; for the magnificent man is not inclined to spend upon himself, but upon the public ; but gifts bear some resemblance to offerings. It is also characteristic of the mag- n. nificent man to ftirnish his house in a manner be- coming his wealth ; for this is an ornament to him ; and to be more disposed to spend money on such works as are lasting ; for these are the most honour- able ; and in every case to attend to propriety ; for the same tilings are not suitable to gods and men, nor to a temple and a tomb. And in the case 12. of expenses, everytliing that is great in its kind, is magnificent, and that which is great in a great kind, is most magnificent ; and next to that, that which is great in another kind. And there is a difference between that which is great in the worlc, and that which is great in the expenditure ; for a aft ARISTOTLE'S [book iv. most beautiful ball or oil-bottle is inaj^iiiicent as a ^ifb to a child, but the price of it is trilling and illiberal. Hence it is the part of the magnificent man to do what he does, of wliatever description it be, magnificently ; for tliis is not easily sur- passed, and has a due reference to the expense- Such, then, is the character of the magnificent man. 13. But he who is in excess, and is Aoilgarly profuse, EapavcTOQ. is in excess, as we have said, in spending impro- perly ; for in small expenses he will spend large, sums, and be inconsistently splendid ; for instance, he will entertain his club-fellows with a man-iago feast ;^ and when fiu-nisliing a chorus for a comedy, will introduce a purple robe into the jmrode,? like the Megareans ; and all this he will do, not for the sake of the honourable, but to display liis wealth, imaginmg that by this means he shall be admired ; and where he ought to spend much, he ^ill spend little, and where he ought to spend Httle, much. 14, But the mean man in all cases will be in the MtjcpoTToc- defect, and though he may have spent very large "''f* simis, mil spoil the beauty of the whole for the sake of a trifle ; and whatever he does, he will do with hesitation, and will calculate how to spend least money ; and tliis he will do in a complaining spirit, and mtU always tliink that he does more than he has occasion to do. These two habits are vices ; nevertheless they do not biing reproach upon those guilty of them, from their neither being hurtful to their neighbour, nor very disgi-aceful to themselves. ' See Horn. Odys.«. i. 225. *' But say, you jovial troop so gaily dress'd, Is this a bridal or o. friendly feast ? " t The Tzapo^oQ was the first speech of the whole chorus in a Greek tragedy. It was so named as being the passage of the chorus-song, sung whilst it was advancing to its proper place in the orchestra, and therefore in anapjEstic or marching verse. The araaiiiov was chanted by the chorus when standing in ita {»rcpsr position. See Smith's Diet Antiq. p. 983. CN*i>. 111.] liSTHICS 9f CHAP. IIJ Of Maynanimity and LHtle Mindednem. Magnanimity,'* even from itsveiy name, appears to 1. be conversant with great matters. Fii-st let ns de- Magnani termine with what kind of great matters. But it ^^fj^Jj^'* makes no difference whether we consider the habit, matter, or the man who lives according to the habit. Now, jyij^gng. the magnanimous man appears to be he who, being nimous really worthy, estimates his own worth highly ; for man. he who makes too low an estimate of it is a fool ; and no man who acts according to virtue can be a fool, nor devoid of sense. The character before- 2. mentioned, therefore, is magnanimous ; for he whose worth is low, and who estimates it lowly, is a modest Sw^pwi-, man, but not a magnanimous one ; for magnani- mity belongs to greatness, just as beauty exists only ^vith good stature;^ for little persons may be pretty, and well proportioned, but cannot be beautiful. He who estimates his own worth liighly, when in 3, reality he is unworthy, is ^•ain ; but he who esti- Xavvog. mates it more highly than he deserves, is not in all cases vain. He Avho estimates it less highly than 4. it deserves, is little-minded, whether his worth be great or moderate, or if, when worth little, he esti- mates himself at less ; and the man of great worth Mucpoyj/x appears especially little-minded ; for what would he x*'^"* '' Magnanimity as described by Aristotle cannot be eon- sistent with the humility required by the Gospel. The Chris- tian knows his utter un worthiness in the sight of God, and therefore cannot form too low an estimate of his own worth. Nevertheless that there is such a virtue as Christian magna- nimity is abundantly shown in the cliaracter of St. Paul. The heathen rirtue of magnanimity constituted a marked feature in the character of a virtuous Athenian, and was doubtless also, as Zell observes, a strong feature in the character of Aristotle himself. ^ The Greeks considered a good stature a necessary charac- teristic of beauty. — See the Rhetoric, I. v., also Horn. Odyss. xiu. 389. g$ ARISTOTLE'S [book it. iiave done if Lis wui*th had not been so great ] ^' Tlie magnanimous man, therefore, in the grcatnesj? of his merits, is in the highest place ; but in his proper estimation of himself, in the mean ; fov he estimates himself at the proper rate, while the others are in the excess and defect. If, there- fore, the magnanimous man, being worthy of grcai things, thinks himself so, and still more of the gi-eal- est things, his character must display itself upon some one subject in particular. (J. Now, the term value is used with reference to external goods; and we must assume that to be of the greatest value which we award to the gods, and which men of eminence are most desirous of, and which is the piize of the most honourable acts ; and such a thing as tliis is honour ;^ for tliis is the Magnani- gi'^atest of external goods. The magnanimous man, mous man therefore, acts with propriety on subjects of honour conver- and dishonour. And, even ^\dthout arguments to sant with prove the point, it seems that the magnanimous ^rnxi) '"^'^ concerned with honour, for gi-eat men esteem which is themselves worthy of honour more than an3rtliing tlie great- else j for it is according to their desert. But the est of ex- little-minded man is in the defect, both as regards ^"1? Ids own real merit and the magnanimous man's dignity; but the vain man is in the excess as i-egards his OMm real merit, but is in the defect as regards that of the magnanimous man. 7. The magnanimous man, if he is worthy of the The mag- highest honours, must be the best of men ; for the nanimous better man is always worthy of the greater honour, wan*^*^'' and the best man of the gi-eatest. The truly mag- nanimous man must therefore be a good man ; and it seems, that whatever is great in any virtue be- longs to the magnanimous character ; for it can in nowise be befitting the magnanimous man to swing his arms and run away^, nor to commit an act of ^ The word here translated honour is rj/a), which signifies, not the abstract principle to Kakup, but honourable distinc- tion ; hence it is called an external good, for it is conferred on us by others. ' The phrase in the original ^rapaaeiaavra 0tvyeiv has the «AP. III.] ETHICS. 99 injustice ; foi what could be tlie motive to ba.«ie conduct to liini to whom nothing is great 1 And if we examine the particulars of the case, it "vill ap- pear ridicidous that the magnanimous man should not be a good man ; and he could not even be de- sei'ving of honom-, if he were a bad man ; for honour is the piize of virtue, and is bestowed upon the good. Magnanimity, then, seems to be, as it were, a kind 3. of ornament of the virtues ; for it makes them Magnani- greater, and cannot exist without them. And for ^}^y ^^ , tliis reason it is difficult to be really magnanimous ; '^Zr^J^ for it is impossible, without perfect excellence and goodness. The magnanimous character, therefore. The mag- is principally disj)layed on the subject of honour nanimous and dishonour. And in the case of great instances "?*" ^°^' of honour, bestowed by the good, he will be mode- "iji[lg. rately gi'atified, under the idea that he has ob- gard to tained what is his due, or even less than he de- honours, serves ; for no honour can be equivalent to perfect virtue. Not but that he will receive it, because they have nothing greater to give him ; but honour from any other persons, and on the score of trifles, he will utterly despise ; for these he does not de- serve ; and likewise he will despise dishonour ; for he cannot justly deserve it. The magnanimous character is, therefore, as has 9. been said, principally concerned mth honours ; not To wea3th but that in wealth and power, and all good and bad fortime, however it may corns to pass, he will behave with moderation ; and not be too much delighted at success, nor too much grieved at failure ; for he will not feel thus even at honour, though it is the greatest thing of all ; for^ power and wealth are eligible because of the honour they confer ; at any rate, those who possess them desire to be honoured on account of them. To him, therefore, by whom honour is lightly esteemed, nothing else can be im- portant j wherefore magnanimous men have the 10. appearance of superciliousness. Instances of goc>d Succeai same signification as the Latin phrase demissismanibusfugerei *■ e. to fly very rapidly. n2 100 ARISTOTLE'S [book it. coDtribtties to magna- nimity. U 12. As to courage . 13. As to libe • tality. fortune also appear to contribute to magnanimity ; lor the nobly born are thought worthy of honour, and those who possess power and wealth, for they surpass others ; and eveiything which is superior in goodness is more honourable. Hence, such things as these make men more magnanimous ; for by some people they are honoured. But in reality the good man alone is deseiTing of honour ; but he who has both is thought more worthy of honoiu' ; but those who, without virtue, possess such good things as these, neither have any right to think themselves worthy of great things, nor are properly called mag- nanimous ; for magnanimity cannot exist without perfect \'ii'tue. But those who possess these things become supercilious and insolent ; for without virtue it is difficult to bear good fortune mth propriety ; and being unable to bear it, and thinking that they excel others, they despise them, while they themselves do anything they please ; for they imi- tate the magnanimous man, though they are not like him ; but this they do wherever they can. Ac- tions according to vii-tue they do not perform, but they despise others. But the magnanimous man feels contempt justly ; for he forms his opinions truly, but the others fonn theu's at random. The magnanimous man neither shuns nor is fond of danger, because there are but few things wliich he cares for ; but to great dangers he exposes himself, and when he does run any risk, he is unspaiing of his life, thinking that life is not worth having on some terms. He is disposed to bestow, but ashamed to receive benefits ; for the former is the part of a superior, the latter of an inferior ; and he is dis- posed to make a more liberal return for favours; for thus the original giver will have incurred an ad- ditional obligation, and ^^ill have received a benefit. He is thought also to recollect those whom he has benefited, but not those from whom he has re- ceived benefits ; for the receiver is inferior to the giver : but the magnanimous man wishes to be buj^rior and the benefits which he confers he hoai-a CHAP. III.] ETHICS. 401 of with pleasure, but those which he receives witli pain. Thetis therefore says nothing to Jupiter about tbe benefits she has conferred upon him, nor do the La- cedtemonians to the Athenians, but only al>out tho8(> which they have received.^^ Again,it is characteristic 14. of the magnanimous man to ask no favoui-s, or very As to ask- few, of anybody, but to be willing to serve others ; ^"S favour*. and towards men of rank or fortune to be liaughty in his demeanour, but to be moderate towards men of middle rank ; for to be superior to the former is difficult and honourable, but to be superior to the latter is easy ; and among the fonn-cr there is no- thing ungenerous in being haughly ; but to be so amongst persons of humble rank is bad taste, just like making a show of strength to the weak. Another chai-act eristic is, not to go in search of 15. honour, nor where others occupy the first places; As to seek, and to be inactive and slow, except where some ^"? honour great honour is to be gained, or some gi*eat work to be performed ; and to be inclined to do but few things, but those great and distinguished. He must also necessarily be open in his hatreds and his friend- sliips ; for concealment is the part of a man who is afi-aid. He must care more for truth than for IG. opinion. He must speak and act openly ; for this ^^ ^^ is characteristic of a man who despises others j for he is bold in speech, and therefore apt to despise "* See Horn. II. i. 503 ; where Thetis only hints at any benefits which she may have conferred on Jupiter, but does not dwell upon them at length or enumerate them. " If e'er, O father of the gods ! she said, My words could please thee, or my actions aid." Pope, i. 652. Callisthenes, who wrote a history (as we learn from Diodorus, xiv. 117) commencing from the peace of Artaxerxes, says that the Lacedaemonians, when invaded by the Thebans, sent for aid to Athens, and said that they willingly passed over the benefits which they had conferred on the Athenians, but remembered those the Athenians had conferred upon them. Xenophon, however (Hell. VI. v. 53), relates that they made mention of the good offices that they conferred upon each other. It ha« been supposed by some that both these examples are instance* of Aristotle's having quoted from memory, and thus hanug fallen into error. lOE ARISTOTLE'S [book iv. others, and tinitli-telling, except when he uses dis* sunulation;^ but to the vulgar he ought dissemble. 17, And he cannot live at the will of another, except it As to be a friend ; for it is servile ; for which reason all friendship, flatterers are mercenary, and low-minded men are flatterers. He is not apt to admire ; for nothing is 13. great to him. He does not recollect injuries ; for ~.l„^-i.o accui-ate recollection, especially of injuries, is not manners ..^,^.*' it %nd con- characteristic oi the magnanimous man ; but he ra- duct. ther overlooks them. He is not fond of talking of people ; for he will neither speak of himself, nor of anybody else ; for he does not care that he himself should be praised, nor that others should be blamed. He is not disposed to praise ; and therefore he does not find fault even with his enemies, except for the sake of wanton insult. He is by no means apt to com- plain or suppUcate help in unavoidable or trifling cala- mities ; for to be so in such cases shows anxiety about them. He is apt to possess I'ather what is honourable and unfruitful, than what is fruitful and useful ; for 19. this shows more self-sufficiency. The step of the Hisgait,&; \ magnanimous man is slow, his voice deep, and his language stately; for he who only feels anxiety about few things is not apt to be in a hurry ; and he who thinks highly of nothing is not vehement ; and shrillness and quickness of speaking aiise from these things. This, therefore, is the chai-acter of the magnanimous man. 20. He who is in the defect is Httle-minded ; he who Mtk-poii/i'- ^ jjj^ ^jjg excess is vain. But these do not seem to be ^ "* vicious, for they are not evil-doers, but only in error; for the little-minded man, though worthy of good things, deprives hunself of his deserts ; but yet he resembles one who has something vicious about him, from his not thinking himself worthy of good things, and he seems ignorant of himself, for otherwise he ° Fjpbjv is a dissembler, one who says .ess than he thinks, and is opposed to dXrjOrjg. Eiptovtia, dissimulation, espe- cially an ignorance purposely affected to provoke or confound an antagonist, — irony, used by Socrates against the Sophists. See Scotland Liddell's Lexicon. See -uiother sense, in which t!pu)veia is ua^d in the 7th chapter of this book. CHAP. IV.] ETHICS. 103 would liave desire 1 tiiose things of which ho was worthy, especially as they are good things. Yet Biich men as these seem not to be fools, but rather idle. And such an opinion seems to make them worse ; for each man desires those things which ai'e according to his deserts ; and they abstain even from honourable actions and customs, considering them- selves unworthy; and in like manner from exter- nal goods. But vain men are fooUsh, and ignorant of them- 21.^ selves, and this ob\-iously; for, thinking them- Xat^»'04, selves worthy, they aspire to distinction, and then are found out ; and they are fine in their dress, and their gestures, and so on ; and they wish their good fortune to be known, and speak of it, hoping to be honoured for it. But little-mindedness is more opposed to magnanimity than vanity, for it is oftener found, and is worse. Magnanimity, there- fore, as we have said, relates to gi-eat honour. CHAP. lY. Of the nameless Virtue which is conversant with the desire oj Honour. There seems to be another virtue conversant with 1. the same habit, as was stated in the earlier part of ^^ *^^^ our treatise,*^ which would appear to bear the same yf^^uV^* relation to magnanimity, which liberality does to conver- niagnificence ; for both these have nothing to do sant with ■Nvith what is great, but dispose us as we ought to be si»all ho- disposed towards v/hat is moderate and small. And '^°"'^^* as ia receiving and giving money there is a mean habit, an excess, and a defect ; so in the desii-e of honour? also, there is the "more and the less" than we » See Book II. ch. <\i. «■ An ambiguity might result from the difficulty of distin- guishing in English between to koXqv and Tifirf. The former is the abstractedly honourable, the morally beautiful, — in Latin, ■"honestum;" the latter is honourable distinction conferred on us by others. 104 \RISTOTLE'S The ex- tremes ap pear to contend for the nean. ought, as well as the proper source, and the proper maimer j for we blame the lover of honour as desir- ing honour too much, and from improper sources ; and the man who is destitute of the love of honour, as one who does not deliberately prefer 1 to bo honoured even for honourable things ; and some- times we praise the lover of honour as manly and noble ; at other times, him who is destitute of the love of honoui', as moderate and modest ; *" as we 2- said before. But it is clear, that as the expression, " lover of anything," is used in more senses than one, we do not use the term lover of honour always with the same signification ; but when we praise liim, we mean that he loves honour more than most men ; and when we blame liim, that he loves it 3. more than he ought. But since the mean state has no name, the extremes seem to contend for the middle place, as being vacant ; but wherever there are an excess and defect, there is also a mean. And men desu*e honour both too much and too little, so that it is possible to desire it a,s they ought. At any i*ate, this habit is praised, being a nameless mean state on the subject of honour. But compared Avith love of honour, it appears to be the absence of all love for it ; and compared with tliis, it appears to be love of honour. Compared with both, therefore) it in some sense has the nature of both j and this seems to be the case Avith the other virtues also. But in this case the extremes seem opposed, because the mean has no name. "» Tlpoaipetng is translated throughout this work " deli- berate preference," as expressing most literally the original. It implies preference, not from mere impulse, but on principle, as a matter of moral choice — as the act of a moral being. ' The word in the original is trw^pwv. Considered as a moral virtue, (TuxppoavpT] signifies temperance, — the virtue, as Aristotle says, /} cw^fi rifv (^ptva, which preserves the vigour of the intellect. Here it signifies modesty, the virtue of « tuber and well -regulated mind. CHAP.T.] ETHICS. m CHAP. V. 0/ Meekness and Irascibility. But meekness is a mean state on tlie subject of 1, angry feelings. But because the mean has no np?«5ri/c name, and we can scarcely say that the extremes liave any, we give to the mean the name of meekness, though it declines towards the defect, which has no name. But the excess might be its ex- called a species of irascibility ; for the passion is tremes, anger, and the things that cause it are many and various. He, therefore, who feels anger on proper 2. occasions, at proper persons, and besides in a proper Charac- manner, at proper times, and for a proper length of teristics of time, is an object of praise. This character will "'^ mem therefore be the meek man, in the very points in which meekness is an object of praise ; for by the meek man we mean him who is undisturbed, and not carried away by passion, but who feels anger according to the dictates of reason, on proper occa- sions, and for a proper length of time. But the meek man seems to err rather on the side of defect ; for he is not inclined to revenge, but rather to for- give. But the defect, whether it be a kind of 3. insensibility to anger, or whatever it be, is blamed ; The defect, for those who do not feel anger in proper cases, are thought to be fools, as well as those who do not feel it in the proper manner, nor at the proper time, nor at the proper persons j for such an one seems to have no perception, nor sense of pain ; and from his insensibility to anger, he is not dis- posed to defend himself; but it is like a slave to endure insults offered to one's self, and to overlook them when offered to one's relations. But the excess 4, takes place in all the categories ; for it is possible The ciceMi to be angry with improper persons, on improper occasions, too much, too quickly, or too long ; yet all these circumstances are not united in the same i06 ARISTOTLE S [book n person ; for it is impossible that tliey should be ; tor the evil destroys itself, and if entire, becomes intolerable. 5. Irascible men, therefore, are easily angered, with 3,y'\ot. improper objects, on improper occasions, and too much ; but their anger quickly ceases, and this is the best point in their character. And this is the case with them, because they do not restrain their anger, but retaliate openly and \isibly, be- because of their impetuosity, and then they be- 6. come calm. The choleric, who are disposed to be A>c/>6x< - angry with everything, and on every occasion, are ^'"- likewise in excess ; whence also they derive their 7. name. But the bitter are difficult to be appeased, tliKpoi. and retain their anger a long time, for they repress their rage ; but there comes a cessation, wlien they have retaliated ; for revenge makes their anger cease, because it produces pleasure instead of the previous pain. But if they do not get revenge, they feel a weight of disappointment : for, owing to its not showing itself, no one reasons with them ; and there is need of time for a man to digest his anger within him.^ Pei-sons of this character are very troublesome to themselves, and to their best friends. 8. But we call those persons ill-tempered who XaXfTToi. feel anger on improper occasions, too much, or too long, and who do not become reconciled with- Irascibi- ^^^ revenge or punishment. But we consider the lity is excess to be more opposite to the mean than tlu^ more op- defect, for it occurs more frequently ; for revenge is posed to Q^ore natural to man than meekness : and the ill- than the tempered are worse to live with than any. But the opposite observation which was made in the former part, is extreme. clear from what we are now saying ; for it is ditti- cult to determine with accuracy the manner, the persons, the occasions, and the length of time for • Etymologists have doubted whether the composition of aicpoxoXog be uKpog, or uKparog, but this observation of Aristotle shows that in his opinion the word is derived iron dtcpoQ, an extreme. * Hoc est conficere ac sedare perturbationem. — Feliciamia. cuKP.vi.] ETHICS. 107 which one ought to be angry, aid at what point one ceases to act rightly, or ^vrongly. For he 9. who transgresses the limit a little is not blamed, Sliglit whether it be on the side of excess or deficiency : transaction and we sometimes praise those w^io fall short, and call them meek ; and we call the ii^ascible manly, as being able to govern. But it is not easy to lay down a precise nile as to the extent and nature of the ti-ansgression, by which a man becomes cul- pable J for the decision must be left to particular cases, and to the moi*al sense. Thus much, how- 10. ever, is clear, that the mean habit is praiseworthy, according to which we feel anger with proper per- sons, on proper occasions, in a proper manner, and so forth : and the excesses and defects are blame- able ; a little blameable when they are only a little distance from the mean ; more blameable when they are fui*ther ; and when they are very far, very blame- able. It is clear, therefore, that we must hold to the mean habit. Let the habits, therefore, which relate to anger have been sufficiently discussed. CHAP. VI. Of the Social Virtue and its Contraries. But in the intercoui*se of life and society, and the j interchange of words and actions, some people Of the so- appear to be men-pleasers ; who praise everything cial virtue with a view to give pleasure, and never in any Ap^^^'^^*' case take the opposite side, but tliink they ought to give no pain or annoyance to those in whose society they happen to be; others, contrary to these, who oppose everything, and are utterly careless of giving pain, are called cross and quar- relsome. That these habits are blameable, is 2, ivident ; and likewise that the mean habit be- AvaKoXe \ween them is praiseworthy, according to which i man will approve and disapprove of propter lOB ARISI'OTLE'S The meau is Xia aviv Tov aripyuv. It aims at jiving pleasure. objects, and in a proper manner. There is no name assigned to this habit, but it most resembles friendship ; for he who acts according to the mean habit is such as we mean by the expression, "a kind and gentle friend," if we add thereto the idea of affection ; while this habit differs from friendshij^, in being without passion. and affection for those with whom one has intercoui'se ; for it is not from being a friend or an enemy that he approves or dis- approves in every case properly, but because it is his nature ; for he will do it alike in the case of those whom he knows, and those whom he does rot know, and to those with whom he is intimate, and to those with whom he is not intimate, except that he will always do it properly ; for it is not fit in the same way to pay regard to, or to give pain, to intimate friends and strangers. Generally, therefore, we have said, that in liis intercoui-se he will behave properly; and referring his conduct to the principles of honour and ex- pediency, he will aim at not giving pain, or at giving pleasure. For he seems to be concerned with the pleasures and pains that arise in the inter- course of society ; and in all of these in which it is dishonourable or inexpedient to give pleasure, he will show disapi^robation, and will deliberately prefer to give pain. And if the action bring upon the doer disgrace or harm, and that not small, and the opposite com'se of conduct only slight pain, he will not approve, but will disapprove of it highly. But his manner of intercourse will be different with persons of rank, and with ordinary persons, and with those who are more or less known to him ; and in all other cases of difference he will act in like manner, awarding to each his due : and abstractedly preferring to give pleasure, and cautious about giving pain, but yet attending always to the results, I mean to the honoui-able and the expedient, if they be greater than the jmin. And for the sake of giving great pleasui-e ftiterwai'ds, he >vill inflict small jMiin. Such, then, CHAP VII.] ETHICS. 10» is he who is in the mean, but it has not a name. 6. But of those who give pleasure, he who aims at being Distmc pleasant, without any further object, is a man- ^^^^^ T^^, pleaser j he who does it that some benefit may and apfHAP. VIII.] ETHICS. 113 educated from that of the uneducated man : and a pei-sou might see this difference from the difference Comedy, between old and recent comedies ;^' in the old ones obscenity constituted the ridiculous ; in the modem ones inuendo ; and there is considerable difference between these in point of decency. Must we, then, define the man who jests with 5. propriety as one who says such tilings as are not ^J^ '^**'" unbefitting a gentleman 1 or who takes care not to give pain to his hearer, but rather to give plea- sui'e 1 or is such a thing as tliis incapable of defini- tion 1 for different things are hateful and pleasant to different people. The tilings which he will say he will also listen to ; for it is thought that a man would do those things which he would bear to hear of Now, he will not do everything that he will listen to ; for a scoff is a sort of opprobrious ex- pression ; and there are some opprobrious expres- sions which are forbidden by legislators ; and perhaps there are things at which ilu'v ought to have forbidden men to scoff. Now, the refined and gentlemanly man will so behave, being as it were a law to himself : and such is he who is in the mean, whether he be called a man of tact, or of graceful wit. But the buffoon cannot resist what is ridiculous, 6. and spares neither himself nor anybody else, if he B<^/^t>.Xoxij can but raise a laugh ; and this he will do by saying such things as the gentleman would not think of saying, or sometimes even of listening 'Ayptog. to. But the clownish man is in all such companies useless, for he contributes nothing, and disapproves of everything. But recreation and sport appear to be necessary in life. Now, these just mentioned are the mean states Thete in the social intercourse of life : they all refer to the *^^f ® ^^^^ 1 virtues interchange of certain words and actions, but they ^.g^^j. ^.q differ, in that one relates to truth, and others to the social " The dramatic literature of our own country, as well as that of Athens, furnishes a valuable index to the progress of refinement and moral education. S 114 ARISTOTLE'S [book IV. intercourse pleasui'e. But of those that relate to pleasiu'e, one is of life. concerned with sport, the other with the other in- tercourse of life. 1. Alciot; de- fined : it is not a virtue, but a passion. Adapted properly to youth. Shame not the proof of a good CHAP. IX. 0/ the Sense of Shame. But it is not proper to sj^eak of the sense of shame as a viiiiue, for it is more liie a passion than a habit ; it is therejfore defined as a kind of fear of disgrace ; but in its efiects it resembles very nearly the fear that is experienced in danger ; for those who are ashamed grow red, and those who fear death turn pale. Both, therefore, appear to be in some sort connected with the body ; and this seems charac- teristic of a passion rather than a habit. But this passion befits not every age, but only that of youth ; for we tliink it right that young persons should be apt to feel shame, because from living in obedience to pas.sion they commit many faidts, and are re- strained by a sense of shame. And we praise those young persons who are apt to feel shame ; but no man would praise an older person for being shame- faced ; for we think it wiong that he should do anything to be ashamed of ; for shame is no part of the character of the good man, if, indeed, it be true that it follows unworthy actions ; for such things he ought not to do. But whether the tilings be in reality or only in opinion disgi-acefiil, it makes no diSerence ; for neither ought to be done ; so that a man ought not to feel shame. Moreover, it is a mark of a bad man to be of such character as to do any of these things. But to be of such character as to feel shame in case he should do any such action, and for this cause to think himself a good man, is absurd ; for shame follows only voluntary actions ; but the good man \^ ill never do bad actions voluntarily. But shame may be hypothetically a woiiihy feeling ; for if a man CHAP. IX.] ETHICS. 115 were to do such a tiling, lie would be ashamed ; but this has nothing to do with the vii'tues : but though shamelessness, and not to be ashamed to do dis- graceful actions, be bad, yet it is not on this account a virtue for a man who does such things to be 4. ashamed. Neither is continence, properly speak- Continenca ing, a virtue, but a kind of mixed virtue : but the (^y^'f «- subject of continence shall be fidly discussed here- mixed ^-fr- ftfter. But now let us speak of justice. tiie. US BOOK V CHAP. I. OJ Justice and Ltjiiittce.* L But we must inquire into the subject of justice and injustice, and see what kind of actions they are con- cerned with, what kind of mean state justice is, and * This book is almost identically the same with the fourth book of the Eudemean Ethics. A passage in Plato's treatise De Legibus, p. 757, quoted by Brewer, p. 167, shows how- far the views of the great master and his distinguished pupil coincided on this subject of particular justice. As far as regarded universal justice, the theory of Plato was as fol- lows: — He considered the soul a republic (De Rep. iv.), composed of three faculties or orders. (1.) Reason, the go- verning principle. (2.) The irascible passions. (3.) The concupiscible passions. When each of these three faculties of the mind confined itself to its proper office, without attempt- ing to encroach upon that of any other ; when reason go- verned, and the passions obeyed, then the result was that complete virtue, which Plato denominated justice. Under the idea of universal justice will be comprehended the ** jus- titia expletrix," and " justitia attributrix," of Grotius ; the former of which consists in abstaining from what is another's, and in doing voluntarily whatever we can with propriety be forced to do ; the latter, which consists in proper beneficence, and which comprehends all the social virtues. This latter kind has been by some termed " distributive justice," but in a different sense from that in which the expression is used by Aristotle. — (A. Smith, Mor. Sent. Part VII. 2.) With respect to particular justice, distributive justice takes cogni- zance of the acts of men, considered in relation to the state, and comprehends what we call criminal cases. Corrective justice considers men in relation to each other, and compre- hends civil cases. Aristotle has also treated the subject of justice and injustice, though in a less scientific manner, in his Rhetoric, Book I. cc. xii. xiii. xiv., to the translation of which, in this series, together with the accompanying aotes- the reader is referred. CHXP. I.] ETHrcS. 117 between what things "the just," that i% the ab- fitract principle of justice, is a mean. But let our investigation be conducied after the same method as in the case of the virtues akeady discussed. We. see, 2. tlien, that all men mean by the term justice that Justice kind of habit from which men are apt to perform f!^^ ^J"^ ' just actions, and from which they act justly, and fi^^^^ wish for just tilings; and similarly in the case of in justice injustice, that habit from wliich they act unjustly, three and wish for unjust things. Let these things, ^^^"gs f-^e therefore, be first laid down as it were in outline ; " s ly. for the case is not the same in sciences and capacities j.* Capacity, as in habits; for the same capacity and science seems 2. Moral ' to comprehend within its sphere contraries; but. choice, one contrary habit does not infer the other con- ^•,-^^^^°"'_ trary acts :^ for instance, it is not the case that, from ^nd IttI^ "! ' the habit .of health, the conti^ary ^cts are performed,, ,7^^^,^ may . but only the healthy ones ; for we say that a man be of con- . walks healthily when he walks as a healthy man j^^arjes ; would walk. Hence a contrary habit is often ^J^^.^' **"* known from its contrary ; and the habits are often known from the things connected with and attend- ^* j^j^^jj^. ant upon them ; for if the good habit of body be may be well known, the bad habit becomes known also ; and known the good habit is known from the things which be- ^''°"™ ^^^ long to it, and these things from the good habit ; ^'^* for if the good habit of body be firmness of flesh, it necessarily follows that the bad habit of body is looseness of flesh ; and that which is likely to cause the good habit of body is that which is likely to cause firmness of flesh. But it, generally speaking, follows, that if the one of two contraries be used in more senses than one, the other contrary is likewise used in more senses tlian one : lor instance, if the just is so used, so also 5. is the unjust. But justice and injustice seem to be The terms used in more senses than one ; but because of their justice and injustice ^ The same habit cannot have to do with contraries, whereas the same science can, e.ff. the habit of health can only produce healthy action, but the science of healing can, if abused, juo- liuce unhealthiness. lis AIIISTOTI.F'S [nooKTr have more close affinity, tlieir homonyiny escapes notice, and i* than one ^q^ gQ clear to be understood, as in the case of tilings Bignifica- ^(jgiy differing ; for the difference in species is a however, ' great difference : for instance, both the bone under is scarcely the neck of animals, and that with which they observa- lock doors, are called by the same Greek word " f' V" , kXeic. Let us, then, ascertain in how many senses rnro! " *^® teiTii unjust man is used. Now, the transgressor 6. of law appears to be imjust, and the man who takes The just more than Ms share, and the imequal man ; so that man is j^ jg clear that the just man also will mean the man nnd Iffoc- "^^^ ^^*^ according to law, and the equal man. the SiKaiov The just will therefore be the lawful and the equal ; is vSfiifiov and the unjust the unla^vful and the unequal. But and l(Tov : gince the unjust man is also one who takes more thedSiKov ^^^ ^s share, he will be of this character with re- is 'Trapdvo- gard to goods ; not, indeed, all goods, but only those fiov and in which there is good and bad fortune ; and these dviffov. QJ.Q absolutely always good, but relatively not always. * Yet men pray for and pursue these tilings ; they ought not, however ; but they ought to pray that absolute goods may be goods relatively to them- selves, and they ought to choose those things which are good to themselves. '^ 8. But the unjust man does not always choose too much, but sometimes too little, in the case of things All lawful absolutely bad, but because even the smaller evil things are appears to be in some sense a good, and covetous- just, ^ggg jg £qj. ^i^^t is good, for tHs reason he appears to take more than his share. He is also unequal ; for this includes the other, and is a common term. 9. But since the transgressor of law is, as we said, un- just, and the keeper of law just, it is clear that all * See Juven. Sat. x. : — ** Say, then, shall man, deprived all power of choice. Ne'er raise to Heaven the supplicating voice ? Not so ; but to the gods his fortunes trust : Their thoughts are wise, their dispensations just. What best may profit or delight they know, And real good for fancied bliss bestow : With eyes of pity they our frailties scan ; More dear to them than, to himself, is man." Gifford's Transl. bOT, tHAP. I.] ETHICS 119 lawful tilings are in some sense just ; for those tilings wliicli liave been defined by the legislative science are lawful : and each one of these we assert to be just. But laws make mention of all subjects, ]o, with a view either to the common advantage of all, Object of or of men in power, or of the best citizens ;^ accord- '^^"« ing to \irtue, or some other such standard. So tliat in one way we call those things just which are adapted to produce and presei^e happiness and its parts for the social community. But the law di- H. rocts the performance of the acts of the brave man ; for instance, not to leave his post, nor to fly, nor to throw away his arms ; and the acts of the tempemte man ; for instance, not to commit adultery or out- rage ; and the acts of the meek man ; for instance, not to assault or abuse ; and in like manner, in the case of the other virtues and vices, it enjoins one class of actions, and forbids the other ; a well-made law does it well, and one framed off-hand and with- out consideration badly. This justice, therefore, is perfect virtue, not abso- 12. lutely, but relatively. And for this reason justice Universal • lllSflf*P IS often appears to be the most excellent of the vir- ^^Xf /« but tues J and neither the evening nor the morning star relatively is so admirable.^ And in a proverb we say, "In it is Ka\- justice all virtue is comprehended." And it is more ^^'^^n- than any others perfect virtue, because it is the exer- cise of perfect virtue ; and it is perfect, because the possessor of it is able to exercise his virtue towards another person, and not only in reference to him- self ; for many men are able to exercise virtue in ^ jg ^p^j, their own concerns, but not in matters wliich con- 'irfpov. ccm other people. For this reason, the saying of Bias seems to be a good one, " Power will show the * This distinction is drawn in order to make the assertion applicable to the circumstances both of democratical and aris- tocratical states. Ot apiaroj, the best citizens, i.e. the aristocracy. * There is no doubt that this is a proverbial saying, but whence it comes is doubtful ; by some it has been attributed to Euripides, by others^ on the authority of Theophrastus, to Theognis. — Zelt. 120 ARISTOTLE'S [book r. 13. man;" for the man in power is at once associated vath and stands in relation to others. And for tliis same reason justice alone, of all the virtues, seems to be a good to another person, because it has rela- tion to another ; for it does what is advantageous to some one else, either to the head, or to some member of the commonwealth. That man, there- fore, is the worst who acts viciously both as re- gards liimself and his friends ; and that man is the best who acts virtuously not as regards himself, but as regards another ; for this is a difficult task. 14. This kind of justice, therefore, is not a division ol virtue, but the whole of virtue ; nor is the conti-ary Universal injustice a part of vice, but the whole of vice. But justice the difference between vii-tue and this kind of jus- differs from ^j^jg jg clear from the preceding statements ; for the ^ ^ ^ ' habits are the same, but their essence is not the same ; but so far as justice in tliis sense relates to another, it is justice ; so far as it is such and suoh a habit, it is simply virtue.^ tue. CHAP. II. Of the nature and qualities of Particular Justice. 1. But that justice which is a part of virtue is the ob- That there j^j^t of our investigation ; for (as we say) there is larTniustfce ^"^^^ ^ ^^^^ of justice : and, likewise, that injustice {■KXkovf.. which is a pai-t of vice : and this is a proof that \ia) there is ; for he who energizes according to the other vices acts unjustly, but does not take more than his share ; as tlie man who through fear has thrown away his sliield, or through moroseness has used abu sive language, or through illiberality has reftised to give pecuniary assistance ; but whenever a man takes ' Virtue and universal justice are substantially the same, but in the mode of their existence they differ ; or, in other v,rords, the same habit, which, when considered absolutely, U termed virtue, is, when considered as a relative duty, termed universal Justice. CHAP. II.] ETHICS. in mere than his share, he does so frequently not from any one of these vices, still less from all of them, but still from some vice (for we blame him) ; namely from injustice. There is, therefore, some 2. other kind of injustice, which is as a part to u It differs whole, and some « unjust," which is related to that ['^^'^/''l^ ^ "unjust" which transgi-esses the law, as a part to a p^rt from whole. Again, if one man commits adultery for a whole, the sake of gain, and receives something for it in addition, and another does so at some cost for the gratification of liis lusts, the latter would seem to be intemperate i-ather than taking more than his share ; and the former unjust, but not intemperate : it is clear, at any rate, that he committed the crime for the sake of gain. Again, in all other acts of 3. injustice it is possible always to refer the action to some specific vice : for instance, if a person has committed adultery, you may refer it to intempe- rance ; if he has deserted his comrade's side in the i-anks, to cowardice ; if he has committed an assault, to anger ; but if he has gained anjiihing by the act, you can refer it to no vice but injustice. So 4. that it is evident that there is another kind of in- justice besides universal injustice, which is a part of it, and is called by the same name, because the generic definition of both is the same ; for the whole force of both consists in relation ; but one is conver- Particulai sant with honour, money, safety, or with whatever J "^^tice. common term would comprehend all these; and its motive is the pleasure arising from gain ; whilst the UniversJ other is conversant with all things with which a justice. good man is conceraed. It is clear, therefore, that there are more kinds of justice than one, and tliat there is another kind besides that which is universal \irtue : but we must ascei'tain its generic and spe- cific character. Now, the "unjust" has been divided into the un- 5, *awful and the unequal ; and " tlie just" into the lawful and the equal. Now, the injustice before mentioned is according to the unlawful. But since Uie unequal a!«d the nioie. are not the .same, but 122 ARISTOTLE'S l'.iook v. Universal justice dis- missed. 8, Particular justice di- vided into Distribu- tive. different, tliat is, tliat one bears to the otlier the relation of a part to a whole,? for e"v erything which is more is unequal, but it is not true that everytliini* which is unequal is more ; and in the same way tlie unjust and injustice arc not the same, but different in the two cases; in the one case being as parts, in the other as wholes j for this injustice of which we an; now treating is a part of universal injustice ; and in like manner particular justice is a paii; of uni- versal justice ; so that we must speak of the parti- cular justice and the particular injustice ; and in like manner of the particular just, and the pai-ti- cular unjust. Let us, then, dismiss that justice and injustice which is conversant -with universal virtue, the one being the exercise of universal virtue with relation to another, and the other of universal vice ; and it is clear that we must dismiss also the just and unjust which are involved in these ; for one may almost say that the greater part of things lawful are those the doing of wliicli arises from universal virtue ; for the law enjoins that we live according to each particular virtue, and forbids our li\ing ac- cording to each pai*ticular vice ; and all those law- ful things wliich are enjoined by law in the matter of social education are the causes which produce universal virtue. But as to private education, ac- cording to which a man is good absolutely, we must hereafter determine whether it belongs to the poli- tical or any other science ; for it is not perhaps en- tirely the same thing in every case to be a good man and a good citizen. But of the particular jus- tice, and of the particulai* just wliich is according to it, one species is that which is concerned in the f The generic word " unequal " comprehends under it the specific ones "more" and **less," and therefore is to them as a whole to its parts. Hence it is to be observed that the words "whole" and "part" are used in their logical rela- tion : for, logically, the genus contains the species ; whereas, metaphysically, the species contains the genus : e. g. we divide logically the genus " man" into "European, Asiatic," &r., but each of the species, European, &c., contains the idea ol 7uan, together with the characteristic difference. CHAP. III.] ETHICS 123 distributions of honour, or of wealth, or of any of those other tilings which can possibly be distributed among the members of a poHtical community ; for in these cases it is possible that one person, as com- ])ared with another, should have an unequal or an 9. equal share ; the other is that which is corrective Corrective, in transactions'' between man and man. And of tliis there are two tli^dsions j for some transactions are voluntary, and others involuntary : the vo- Transac- luntaiy are such as follow ; selling, buying, lending, J^°"^ j'!'^ pledging transactions, boJTOwing,* depositing of trusts, voluntary, hiiing ; and they are so called because the origin of involun- such transactions is voluntary. Of involuntaiy trans- tarj . actions, some are secret, as theft, adultery, poison- ing, pandering, enticing away of slaves, assassination, false witness ; others accompanied with violence, as assault, imprisonment, death, robbery, mutilation, evil-speaking, contumelious language. CHAP. III. Of Distributive Justice. But since the unjust man is unequal, and the unjust ^• is unequal, it is clear that there is some mean of the j^ a ^^^0 ju unequal ; and this is the equal ; for in every action two things, in which there is the more and the less, there and witli is the equal also. If, therefore, the unjust be un- reference equal, the just is equal ; but this, without argument, ^^s^^^^g '' The word ovvaWay^oTa, here rendered "transactions," must not be understood as being limited to cases of obligations voluntarily incurred, but as comprehending all cases of obli- gation which exist in the dealings between man and man, whether moral, social, or political. A awaWayfia tKovmov may be either verbal or written ; if written, it may be (1.) avvOrjKij, which term is generally used of political agree- ments or conventions ; (2.) o-vyypa^?/, a legal bond ; (3.) fTVfitSXaiov, an instrument in the case of a pecuniary loan. See Rhet. I. xv. • Xpii<^iS is that contract which the Roman jurists term " commodatum." — Michelet, 124 ARISTOTLE'S [book v. must b? clear to everybody. But fiance the equal is a mean, the just must also be a kind of mean. But the equal implies two terms at least ; the just, there- fore, must be both a mean and equal, it must relate to some things and some persons. ; In that it is a mean, it must relate to two things, and these are the more and the less ; in that it is equal, to two things, and in that it is just to certain persons. 2. It follows, therefore, that the just must imply four There will t^^.Q^ ^^ Jea^t ; for the pei-sons to whom the just terms • relates are two, and the things that are the subjects two per- of the actions are two. And there will be the Bor.s and same equality between the persons and between the two things, tilings ; for as the things are to one another so are the persons, for if the persons are unequal, they will not have equal things. 3. But hence arise all disputes and quarrels, when equal persons have unequal things, or unequal per- sons have and have assigned to them equal things. Again, this is clear from the expression " according to worth ;" for, in distributions, all agree that justice ought to be according to some standard of worth, yet all do not make that standard the same ; for those who are inclined to democracy consider liberty as the standard ; those who are inclined to oligarchy, wealth ; others, nobility of birth ; and those who are 4. inclined to aristocracy, virtue.*' Justice, therefore, is something proportionate ; for proportion is the pro- perty not of arithmetical numbers only, but of num- ber universally; for proportion is an equality of ratio, and implies four terms at least. Now it is clear, that disjunctive proportion implies four terms ; but continuous proportion is in four terms also ; for it will use one term in place of two, and mention it tmce ; for instance, as A to B, so is B to C ; B has therefore been mentioned twice. So that if B be put down twice, the terms of the proportion are four. *• Moreover, the just also implies four terms at least, and the ratio is the same, for the persons and the thingi are similarly divided. Therefore, as the tei'nj * Compare Arist. Rhet. Book I. c. Tiii> CHAP. IV. J ETHICS. 1«5 A to tlie teiin B, so will be the term C to the term T); and therefore, alternately, as A to C so B to D. So that the whole also bears the same proportion to the whole which the distribution puts together in pairs ; and if it puts them together in this way, it puts them together justly.^ The conjunction, therefore, of A and C and of B and D is the just in the dis- tribution ; and this just is a mean, that is, a mean between those things which are contrary to propor- tion ; for the proportionate is a mean, and the just is proportionate. But mathenraticians call this kind 6. of proportion geometrical, for in geometrical propor- tion it comes to pass that the whole has the same ratio to the whole which each of the parts has to the other ; but this proportion is not continuous, for the person The pro- and the thing are not one term numerically. But the portiont unjust is that which is contrary to proportion ; there ^^ ^'^"' is one kind, therefore, on the side of excess, and one on the side of defect ; and this is the case in acts, for he who acts imjustly has too miv^h, and the man who is treated unjustly too HUle good. But in the 7. case of evil, the same thing happens inversely, for the less evil compared with the greater becomes a good j for the less e-^il is more eligible than the greater, and the eligible is good, and the more eligible a greater good. This, therefore, is one species of the just. CHAP. IV. 0/ Justice in Transactions between Man and Man. But the other one is the corrective, and its province i. is all transactions, as well voluntary as involuntary. In correc' But this just has a different fonn from the preced- *^|^® J^?: ing ; for that which is distributive of common pro- ^eUcS^"* ' A : B : : C : D. Alternando, A : C : : B : D. Componendo, A + C : B + D :: A : B. Alternando, A + C : A : • B -t- D : B. 12e ARISTOTLE'S [boob. v. proper- perty is always according to the proportion before tion is ob- mentioned. For if the distribution be of common cau^ it ^" P^'op^^y? i* "^1 be made according to the propor- regards the ^^^^ which the original contributions bear to each acts, and other ; and the unjust which is opposed to this just is not the contraiy to the proportionate. But the just wliich excT^t^so ®^^^^^ ^^ transactions is something equal, and the far as re- unjust something unequal, but not according to gards geometrical but arithmetical proportion ; for it mat* ^';/*. called, being as it were cixckttijq (a divider). For when two tilings are equal, and from the one sometliing is taken away and added to the other, this other exceeds by twice this quantity ; for if it had been taken away from the one, and not added to the other, it would have exceeded by once this quantity only ; it would therefore have exceeded the mean by once this quantity, and the mean would have exceeded that part from which it was taken by once this quantity. By this means, therefore, g. we shall know both what it is right to take away from him who has too much, and what to add to him who has too little. For the quantity by which the mean exceeds the loss must be added to him who has the loss, and the quantity by which the mean is exceeded by the greater must be taken away from the greatest. For instance, the lines AA, BB, CC, are equal to 9. each other; from the line AA, let AE be taken, or its equal CD, and added to line CC ; so that the whole DCC exceeds AE by CD and CZ ; it there- fore exceeds BB by CD.™ But these terms, loss and Origin of terms loss " The following figure will explain Aristotle's meaning : — j • A 1 A B B Z C i C D 128 ARISTOTLE'S [book v. gain, take theii* lise from voluntary barter ; for the having more than a man's own is called gaining, and to have less than he originally had, to suffer loss ; as in selling and buying, and all other trans- 10. actions in which the law affords protection. But when the result is neither more nor less, but the condition of parties is the same as before, they say that men have their o^vn, and are neither losers nor gainers. So that the just is a mean between gain and loss in involuntary transactions, that is the ha^•ing the same both before and after. CHAP. Y. Of Retaliation.^ ^' Some people think that retaUation is absolutely The Pytha- j^^^^ ^ ^J^^ Pythagoreans said ; for they simply called defined justice as retaliation to another. But reta- Justice liation does not fit in either with the idea of distn- retaliation, butive or corrective justice ; and yet they would incorrectly, ^^^^^ ^j^^^ ^j^^ ^g ^j^^ meaning of the Rhadamanthian they called i'^^^*^? " I^ ^ mAVi suffers what he has done, straight- it so simply, forward justice would take place:" for in many and not points it is at variance ; as for example, if a man i^T ava- -jj authority has struck another, it is not right that ■ ^^*'"'* lie should be sti-uck in return; and if a man has struck a person in authority, it is right that he should not only be struck, but punished besides. ■ The law of retaliation, ** lex talionis," or commutative Justice, differs in the following respect from distributive and corrective justice. As we have seen, distributive justice pro- ceeds on the principle of geometrical proportion, -^corrective justice on that of arithmetical ; commutative justice, on both. For instance, we first compare the commodities and the per- sons geometrically ; as the builder is to the shoemaker, so is the number of shoes to the house. Next we give the shoe- maker a house, which renders the parties unequal. We then restore the equality arithmetically, by taking away from tha shoemaker the equivalent to the house reckone I ia shoes, and restoring it to the builder. CHAP. V.J ETHICS. 129 Again, the voluntariness and involimtariness of an action make a great difference. But in the inter- course of exchange, such a notion of justice as reta- liation, if it be according to proportion and not according to equahty, holds men together. For by proportionate retahation civil society is held toge- ther ; for men either seek to retahate evil (for other- wise, if a man must not retaliate, his condition appears to be as bad as slavery) or to retaliate good (for otherwise there is no interchange of good oflSces, and by these society is held together) ; and for this reason they bmld the temple of the Graces in the pubUc way,o to teach that kindness ought to be re- turned, for this is peculiar to gratitude ; for it is right to return a service to the person who has done a favour, and then to be one's self the first to confer the next. But diametrical conjunction causes propor- tionate return ;P for example, let the builder be A, the shoemaker B, a house C, and a shoe D ; the builder ° The temples of the Graces were usually built in the ayopai. This was the case at Sparta; and Pausanias informs us that it was also the case at Orchomenae and Olympia. The Graces, therefore, must be reckoned amongst the Qeoi dyo- paioi. Cicero says, — ** Oportet quoque in civitate bene insti- tuta templum esse Gratiarum, ut meminerint homines gratias esse referendas." p The following figure will explain what is meant by diame- trical conjunction : — A^ -B By avTivtm 7Tov9c>s kut' ava~ XoyiaVf the cases are brough*; to a certain equality. 3. The rule of diametrical conjunc- tion. In commercial intercourse, A takes so many D's as are equal to C, and B takes in exchange C, and this equalization is eflected either by direct barter, or by means of the common measure, money. Respecting " value," and the subjects con- nected with it, the student is referred to any < reatises on poli- tical economy. Aristotle treats of the relation which subsists between demand ^xpda) and value in the Politics, I. iii. 130 ARISTOTLE'S [book v. therefore ought to receive from the shoemaker some of his work, and to give him some of his own in re- turn. If, therefore, there be proportionate equa- lity in the first instance, and then retaliation take place, there will be the state of things which we described ; if not, there is no equality, nor any Equality bond to hold commercial dealings together : for ^^^^^ there is no reason why the work of one should not bv°observ- ^® better than the work of the other ; these things, ing the re- therefore, must be equalized ; and tliia is true in lative pro- the case of the other arts also ; for they would be portion of p^^^ ^n end to, unless equality were obsei'ved be- tMnffs^'^" tv/een the dealer and the person dealt with, both 4_ as regards quantity and quality. For commercial intercourse '« CHAR VII. Of Natural and Legal Justice. Of the political just, one part is natural,'"* and 1. the other legal. The natural is that which every- Political where is equally valid, and depends not upon being ^^^^JjJ^ ^ or not being received. But the legal is that which jcinds : originally was a matter of indifference, but which, NaturaL when enacted, is so no longer ; as the price of Legal, ransom ^ being fixed at a mina, or the sacrificing a goat, and not two sheep ;^ and further, all parti- cular acts of legislation ; as the sacrificing to Bra- sidas,'^ and all those matters wliich are the subjects of decrees. y But to some persons all just things 2> * It is frequently Aristotle's practice to examine different existing theories, and to show how far his own coincides with them. Hence, as justice was divided into political and econo- mic, his object is to show that the justice which he has treated of comes under the division of political justice. It cannot belong to the economic, as it assumes the existence of two persons ; whereas a man's wife or children, or servants, are considered as parts of himself. " See the Rhetoric, Book I. xiii., in which he quotes Anti- gone's defence of her determination to bury Polynices, as an example of natural justice. Legal justice is that which is established by the law of the land, or arbitrarily and conven- tionally ; e. g. killing a man is naturally unjust, — killing a bare, conventionally or legally. ' The price of redemption was different at different periods. Acciajoli says, that in the Peloponnesian war it was fixed at one mina; Herodotus (Book VI. Ixxix.) states, that the Pelo- ponnesians fixed two minse as the ransom of a prisoner of war. " Herodotus (II. xlii.). All who sacrifice totheTheban Zeus, or who belong to the province of Thebes, abstain from offering sheep, and sacrifice goats ; it is probable that Aristotle is alluding to this Egyptian custom. ' See Thucydides, BookV. xi., where the historian speaks of tne hero-worship offered to Brasidas by the Amphipolitans. » The decree {ipri It is difficult to say whether Aristotle here alludes to a CB-.P. vHi.] ETHICS. 137 is not natural, but of man's invention, is not every- where the same ; since neither are all political con- stitutions, although there is one which wo aid be by- nature the best eveiywhere ; but there can be but one by nature best everywhere. Every principle of justice and of law has the 5, relation of a universal to a particular ; for the things done are many ; but each principle is sin- gular ; for it is imiversal. There is a diiference 7^^,^ ^^ between an unjust act and the abstract injust, and ^^^ a^tKo between a just act and the abstract just ; for a differ : so thing is unjust partly by nature, or by ordinance, also do Si- But the same thing, as soon as it is done, becomes ''"V*'^"^^ an unjust act ; but before it was done it was not yet ^^ ^nd Hil an unjust act, but unjust ; and the same may be icaioTrpd- said of a just act. The common term for a just 7»?/i«' act is more correctly liKaioirpayqiia, and ItKaiiofxa is the correction of an unjust act. But of each of these, what and how many species there are, and with what subjects they are conversant, must be ascertained afterward.^. CHAP. VIII. Of the Three Kinds of Offences. Now, since the abstract just and unjust are what they have been stated to be, a man acta imjustly and justly whenever he does these tilings volun- tarily ; but when he does them involuntarily, be neither acts unjustly nor justly, except accidentally; for he does acts wliich accidentally happen to be just or unjust. But an unjust act and a just act g, are decided by the voluntariness and involuntari- local custom or to one acted upon generally between exporting and importing nations. He may possibly be referring to one similar to that which exists in the London milk-trade, in which the barn gallon, as it is called, of the wholesale dealer, U larger than the imperial gallon, by which milk is retailed. 13« ARISTOTLE S [Booa v. An action ness of thein ; for whenever an act is voluntary it is deter- ^ blamed ; and at the same time it becomes an un- its bdng^ just act : so that there will be something unjust done vo- which is not yet an unjust act, except the condi- luntarily tion of voluntaiiness be added to it. I call that or invo- voluntary, as also has been said before, wliich (being ^' 3 in his own power) a man does knowingly, and not from ignorance of the person, the instrument, or the motive ; as of the person he strikes, the instrument, and the motive of striking, and each of those particulai-s, not accidentally, nor by com- pulsion ; as if another man were to take hold of his hand, and strike a third person ; in this case he did it not voluntarily, for the act was not in his own 4. power. Again, it is possible that the person struck Also by the should be the father of the striker, and that the degree o gtiiker should know him to be a man, or be one of and by ' *^6 company, and yet not know him to be liis own the motive, father. Let the same distinction be applied in the case of the motive, and all the other pai-ticulars ^' attending the whole act. Consequently, that which is done through ignorance, or if not done through ignorance, is not in a man's own power, or is done through compulsion, is involuntary. For we both do and suffer many tilings which naturally befall us, not one of which is either voluntary or invo- luntary ; as, for example, growing old, and dying. G. But the being done accidentally may occur in the Accident, ^ase of the unjust as well as of the just ; for a man might return a deposit involuntarily, and through fear, and yet we must not say that he does a just act, or acts justly, except accidentally. And in like manner we must say that that man accidentally does an unjust act, and acts imjustly, who upon com- pulsion, and against his own will, refuses to return a 7. deposit. But of voluntary Acts, some we do from deliberate preference, and others not. We do those irom deliberate preference wliich we do after pre- \'ious deliberation ; and we do those not from deli- berate preference which we do without previous 8, deliberation. Now, sinct», there are three kinds ol CMAF. Via.] ETHICS. 139 hurts "^^ in the intercourse of society, those which are B\d€au done in ignorance are mistakes, i. e. whenever a man does the mischief to a different person, in a different manner, with a different instnmient, or from a different motive from what he intended ; for perhaps he did not intend to strike, or not with this instrument, or not this person, or not for this purpose, but something different to his purpose happened; as, for example, he did not intend to wound, but merely to prick ; or he did not mean to wound this person, or not in this manner. When, therefore, the hurt takes place contrary 9. to expectation, it is an accident ; when not contrary 'Arvxijfia to expectation, but without -wdcked intent, it is a 'Afidprri' mistake ; for a man makes a mistake when the '*"* principle of causation is in himself ; but when it is external, he is unfortunate. But when he does it 10. knowingly, but without previous deliberation, it is 'AdiKijfia, an unjust act, as all those things which are done through anger, and the other passions, which are necessary or natural ; for by such hurts and such mistakes they act unjustly, and the actions are im- just ; still the doers are not yet on this accoimt unjust or wicked ; for the hurt did not arise from depravity. But when any one acts from deliberate n. preference, he is then unjust and wicked. Hence, UpoaiptaiQ very properly, acts done through anger are de- constitutes cided not to proceed from premeditation ; for he or"lln"ust** who acts through anger is not the originator, but j^ he who angered liim. Again, even the question is not one of fact, but of justice ; for anger is felt at apparent injustice.^'! For there is no disj^ute, as in the case of contracts, respecting the fact (iu which case one of the two must be vicious, unless they do it from forgetfulness), but, agreeing about the iact, ** See the Rhetoric, I. xiii. Properly there are four kinds of hurts : — 1. oTav TrapaXoywQ rj pXatij ykvrjTai — Casus. 2. OTav fii) irapaXoytDg, dvev ck KOKiag — Culpa. .3. 'oTav siScjQ fikv ixri irpotovktvaag St — Dolus mdirectu^ 4. OTav Ik TrpoaipiatiOQ — Dolus directus. — Michelet. ** See definition of anger in Rhet. Book II. UQ ARISTOTIE'S they dispute on wliich side is the justice of the case; But he who plotted against the other is not igno- rant, so that the one thinks himself injured, but the other does not think so. If a man has done hai-m from deliberate preference, he acts unjustly; and he who in such acts of injustice acts unjustly is forthwith unjust whenever his acts are contrary to the proportionate and the equal act. 13. In like manner, too, the just man is he who on deliberate preference acts justly ; but he acts justly, provided he only acts voluntarily. But of involun- tary actions, some are pardonable, and others un- pardonable ; for all those acts which are done, not only ignorantly, but through ignorance, are par- donable ; but all wliich are done not through igno- rance, but ignorantly, through passion neither natural nor human,^* are unpardonable. CHAP. IX. Of being Injured, and that no one can be injured with his own consent. Whetl.er a man can injure himself. But it might be questioned whether sufficiently ac- curate distinctions have been made on the subject of receiving and committing injustice. First, whether it be, as Euripides has absurdly said, " He slew my mother ; the tale is short ; willing he slew her willing ; or unwilling he killed her \villing."f^ For is it really true, or is it not true, that a person can with his own consent be injured 1 or is not being injured altogether involuntary, just as committing ** Human passions are Xvtttj, (p6€og, t\€og, grief, fear, pity ; the natural appetites are irtlva, ^i-^a, hunger and thirst. We are inclined to pardon him who acts at the instigation of these ; e.g. we readily make allowance for a starving man who steals a loaf to satisfy the cravings of his hunger. " Michaelis Ephesius, and a scholiast, quoted by Zell, attri- bute these lines to the Bellerophon, but it is much more pro- bable that they are derived from the Alcmena — Brewer. »«AP. IX.] ETHICS. Ul injuiy is altogether voliintaiy ? or are all cases tide way or that way, just as committing injury is en- tirely voluntary; or are some cases voluntary and others involuntary 1 And the same question aiises in the case of being 2. justly dealt with ; for all just actiug is voluntary, &o that it is reasonable to suppose that the receiving of unjust or just treatment should be similarly op- posed with respect to the question of voluntaiiuess or involuntariness. But it would seem absurd, in the case of being justly dealt with, that it should be altogether volimtary ; for some people are justly dealt by without their consent, ss The truth is, even 3. the following question might be raised, whether he who has suffered an injury is necessarily injured, or Wbetlier whether the case is not the same in suffering as in a man is acting 1 for in both cases it is possible to participate ^^^^ ^^- in what is just accidentally. But it is clear that it ^^^^^ ^^^^ is the same in unjust actions ; for doing unjust unjustly, actions is not synonymous with being unjust, and 4. suffering unjust actions is therefore not the same with being injured ; and in the case of acting justly and being justly dealt by, the case is similar, for it is impossible to be unjustly dealt by when nobody acts unjustly, or to be justly dealt by when nobody acts justly. But if acting unjustly simply means hurting any 5. one voluntarily, and the expression "voluntary" ^^*J means knowing the person, the instrument, and the anTnjury. manner, and if the iacontinent man hurts himself voluntarily, then he would be injured voluntarily, and it would be possible for a man to injure him- self ; but this likewise is one of the disputed points, whether it is possible for a man to injure himself. Again, a man might, through incontinence, be 6. voluntarily hurt by another person acting volun- tarily, so that it would be possible for him to be w Acciajoli says, that Aristotle distinguishes eight conditions of just and unjust actions; viz. injuriam agere, injuriam pati ;* jus agere, jus pati ; injustum agere, injustum pati } 'ustum agere, justum pati. 142 ARISTOTLE'S [poor v voluntaiily injured. Or is the definition incorrect, and mnst we add to tlie statement tliat he who hurts must know the person, the instrument, and the manner, the condition that it must be against "• the other's will 1 Then it follows, that a person can be voluntarily hurt and suffer acts of injus- tice, but that no one can be voluntarily injiired; for no one, not even the incontinent man, wishes to be injured, but he acts against his wish ; for no one wills what he does not think good, but the incon- tinent man does what he thinks that he ought not 8. to do. But he who gives away his own property Tie case ^^s Homer says that Glaucus gave to Diomede of blaucus. «gQi(jgji arms for brazen, the price of a hundred oxen for the price of nine")^^ is not injured, for the act of giving is in liis own power ; but being injured is not in a man's own power, but there must be an injurer. With respect to being injured, therefore, it is plain that it is not voluntaiy. 9 Of the questions we proposed, two yet remain to Whether be discussed : fii'st, whether he who has awarded the giver or the larger share contrary to right valuation, or he the receiver ^^^ j^g ^^^ commits the injury ; secondly, whe- and whether *^®^ ^* ^^ possible for a man to injure liimself; a man by for, if the truth of the first question be possible, awarding and it is the distributor, and not he who gets too little ^QQ great a share, then, if a man knowingly and iniures^^ voluntarily gives to another a greater share than hio^self. to himself, tliis man injures himself; and moderate 10. men seem to do this, for the equitable man is apt to take too small a share. Or is it that this is never absolutely the case? for perhaps he got more of some other good, as of reputation, or of the abstract honoui'able. Besides, the difficulty is solved by the definition of the term " acting im- justly," for he suffers nothing against his wish ; so ** " For Diomede's brass arms, of mean device, For which nine oxen paid (a vulgar price), He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought, A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought.'* Pope's Horn. II. vi. 292. vn.Kv. ix.] ETHICS. 14S that for tMs reason at least lie is not injured, but it* he suffers anytliing, it is only hurt. Moreover, it is clear that the distributor, and not n. he who gets too much^ acts unjustly ; for he does not The quei- act unjustly to whom the abstract unjust attaches, ^^'J° *^" but he to whom attaches the acting voluntaiily ; and ^^^ the voluntariness attaches to him in whom is the origin of the act, wliich in this case is in the dis- tributor, and not in the receiver. Again, since the 12. expression " to do a thing" is used in many senses, and in one sense inanimate things, and the hand, and a slave at his master's bidding, may kill ; the doer in these cases does not act unjustly, but does unjust things. Again, if a man decided through 13. ignorance, he is not imjust according to the legal idea, nor is his decision unjust ; but it is in some sense unjust, for there is a diiference between legal and abstract justice. But if he has knowingly made an unjust decision, he himself gets some advantage, either in the way of favour or of revenge. The case 14. is just the same if a man participates in an act of injustice, and he who from such participation passes an unjust judgment is considered to be a gainer ; for, even in the other cases, he who adjudged the field did not get the field, but money. But men suppose, that to act unjustly is in their 15. Whe- own power, and for this reason they think that to ther it be act justly is also easy. But this is not the case ; ?^7 ^^ for to have connection with a neighbour's wife, and to assault a neighbour, and to give away money with one's hand, is easy, and in one's own power ; but to do this with a particular disposition is neither easy nor in one's own power. In like manner, men think 16. that there is no Avisdom in knowing things just and things unjust, because it is not difficult to com- prehend the cases of wliich the laws speak ; but these are not just acts except accidentally — when, indeed, they are done in a certain manner, and distributed in a certain mamier, they become just. I5ut this is a more laborious thing than to know vhat things are wholesome, since even in that I4^i ARISTOTLE'S [bock v. mri of knowledge it is easy to know honey, wine, and hellebore, and burning and cutting ; but to know how to apply them for the purposes of health, and to whom, and at what time, is as difficult as to be a physician. 17. For this very same reason it is supposed that Erroneous acting unjustly belongs to the just man as much as acting justly, because the just man would be no less, or rather more able to do each of these things ; for he might have connection with a woman, and commit an assault, and the brave man might tlirow away his shield and turn and run away. 18. But it is not merely doing these things (except accidentally), but doing them with a particular dis- position, that constitutes the being a coward or an unjust man ; just as it is not performing or not per- forming an operation, nor giving or not giving medicine, that constitutes medical treatment oi healing, but doing it in this particular way. But just acts are conversant with the case of those who l)articipate in things absolutely good,^ and who can liave of these too much or too little ; for some beings perhaps cannot possibly have too much, as, for example, the gods perhaps ; to others, again, no part of them is useful, but all injurious, as to those who are incurably wicked ; others, again, are bene- fited to a certain extent ; for which reason justice k convei-sant with man. CHAP. X. Of Equity, and the Equitable Man.^ 1. The next thing to speak of is the subject of "the Equity equitable" and equity, and the relation that the i^g " 'AttXwc ay add, are not only mental goods, but also riches, honours, and all things instrumental to virtue, which are in themselves absolutely good, but become evil by the abuse of them. — Michelet. ^ On the subject of e)le to injure liimself or not, is clear from what has ^awn can " Michael Ephesius says, — " The Lesbians did not build with stones, arranged so as to form a plane surface, but alternately projecting and retiiing." — Michelet. See also, Rhet. I. i. "^ This is the meaning of the well-known pro^eibj-^ *' Summum jus summa injuria." CHAP, xi.j ETHICS. 147 been already said. For one class of tJiings just inj"^ him* is that which is enjoined by law, according to \-irtue, ^g'jfg!^ -JJ^^J" in the universal acceptation of the term ; as, for tjcg, example, it does not command a man to kill him- eelf ; and whatever it does not command, it forbids.*™ Again, whenever a man does hurt contrary to law, 2. provided it be not in retaliation, he voluntarily injures : and he acts voluntarily who knows the person, the instrument, and the manner. But he who An ob- kills himself through rage voluntarily does a thing jection contraiy to right reason, which the law does not answered, allow. He therefore commits injustice, but against whom? is it against the state, and not against himself 1 for he suCers voluntarily ; and a person cannot be injured ^^dth liis own consent. Therefore, also, the state punishes him, and tiiere is a kind of disgi'ace attached to the suicide, as acting unjustly towards the state. Again, in that kind of injustice 3. according to which he who only acts unjustly, and Why a m«tfi not he who is entkely %vicked, is called unjust, it ^^^^^ ^^' is impossible for a man to injure himself; for this ggf^jj,'™" kind is different from the other ; for he who is particular in this sense unjust, is in some sort wicked, like justice, the coward ; not as being wicked in the fullest sense of the term. So that he does not injure him- self even in this way ; for if he did, it would be possible that the same thing sliould be taken from and given to the same person ; but this is impossi- ble ; but the just and the imjust must always imply the existence of more persons than one. Again, an 4. injury must be voluntary, proceeding from delibe- rate preference, and the first of two hurts ; for he ■■ The Greeks recognized the principle that it was the duty of their state to support the sanctions of virtue by legislative enactments ; the moral education of the people formed part of the legislative system. Hence the rule which Aristotle states, *' Quae lex non jubet vetat." The principles of our law, ou the contrary, are derived from the Roman law, which confines i'self in all cases to forbidding wrongs done to society. Hence the rule with us is exactly the contra 7, " Quae lex non vetat permittit." — See Michelet's Notes, p. 195. who retaliates because lie has suffered, and inflicta the very same hurt which he suffered, does not seem to act unjustly ; but he who injures himself is at once and in the same matter both agent and 2)atient. 5' Again, if this were the case, it woiild be possible to be voluntarily injured. And besides, no one acts imjustly without committing particular acts of in- justice ; but no man commits adultery with his own wife, nor breaks into his own house, nor steals huj own property. But the question of injuring one's self is finally settled, by the decision we made on the subject of being voluntarily injured. 6. It is also plain, that both to be injured and to Whether injure are bad; for one implies having less, the to commk^ other having more, than the mean ; and the case is or to re- like that of the wholesome in the science of medi- ceive an cine, and that which is productive of a good habit injury. ^f jjody in gymnastics. But yet to injure is the worse of the two ; for to injure involves depravity, and is culpable ; and either perfect and absolute depravity, or something like it ; for not every volun- tary act is necessarily joined with injustice ; but to suffer injustice is unconnected with depravity and injustice. Absolutely, then, to suffer injustice is less bad, but there is no reason why it should not ®« accidentally be worse. But science cannot take notice of this ; for science calls a pleurisy a worse disorder than a bruise from a fall ; and yet the contraiy might accidentally be the case, if it should happen that the man bruised was, owing to his fall, taken prisoner by the enemy, and put to death. But, metaphorically speaking, and accord- ing to some resemblance, there is a kird of "just," not, indeed, between a man and himself, but be- tween certain parts of himself : but it is not "just" in the universal acceptation of the term, but such as belongs to a master or head of a family; for the rational part of the soul has this relation to ^ the irrational part. Now. looking to these points, It seems that there is some injustice towards one's CHAP. XI.] ETHICS. 149 self, because it is possible, in these cases, to suffer Bometbiiig contraiy to one's own desires. Precisely, therefore, as there is some kind of " just " between the governor and the governed, «o there is between these parts of the soul also. With respect to jus- tice, therefore, and the rest of the moral virtnea^ let tlie distinctions di*awn be considered sutlicieutn 1&(I BOOK VI, CHAP. I. That i i* necessary to define right Rcoiun.* 1. But since we happen to have already said that we Right rea- oygj^^ to choose the mean, and not the excess or de- Kidered." ^^^^ '> ^^^ since the mean is as right reason^ deter- 2. mines, let us discuss this point. In all the habits Joined with already mentioned, just as in everytliing else, there is all the ^ certain mark wliich he who possesses reason looks at, sometimes slackening, at others making more intense his gaze ; and there is a definite boundary of the mean states, which we assert to be between the excess and the defect, and to be in obedience to right reason. ^* But this statement, although it is tnie, is by no ..' ^", ® means clear: for in all other studies wliich are tlie discover /. . ... what it is. subjects of science, it is qmte ti-ue to say, that we ought not to labour too much or too little, nor to be • Aristotle does not attempt to analyze all the intellectual virtues, nor indeed is this to be expected in a treatise which is practical rather than theoretical, — ethical, and not meta- physical. The proper place for the consideration of these is his treatise " de Anima." His great object in this book is to ascertain the connection between the intellectual and moral virtues. ^ Right reason (o 6p96g Xoyof) is that faculty of the soul which takes cognizance of truth and falsehood, both moral and scientific. All the virtues, therefore, both moral and intel- lectual, will be joined with right reason ; the moral virtues being joined with right reason on practical subjects, which is the same as prudence {(ppoi'Tjmg). The superiority of Aristotle's system in a practical point of view over that of Plato and Socrates, is clear from the following consideration, amongst others, that the latter thought all the virtuet *♦ sciences," and \6yoi, whereas Aristotle held them all to be according to *• reason" (Xoyov), and the moral yirtucs t« be according to " reason on practical subjects.'' CHAP. 1.] ZTHICS. 15i idle too mucL or too little, but in the mean, and according to tlie direction of right reason ; yet he who only knows this would not possess any more of the knowledge which he requires ; he would not, for instance, know what applications ought to he made to the b)dy, if a person were to tell liim, tlmt they are those which the science of medicine orders, and which the person acquainted with that science makes use of Hence, it is necessary with respect to 4, the habits of the soul also, not only that this should be stated truly, but that it should also be determined what right reason is, and what is the definition of it. Now, we made a division of the virtues of the soul, virtu.?8 01 and said that part of them belonged to the moral cha- the soul, racter, and part to the intellect. The moral virtues, ^®'~T Ave have thoroughly discussed ; but let us in the j^^gj.' same manner discuss the remainder, after ha^dng lectual. first spoken about the soul. There were before said to be two parts of the Parts of soul, — the rational and the in-ational ; but now we the soul, must make the same kind of division in the case of j^^^^jq^^i _, the rational part; and let it first be laid down, that irrational, there are two divisions of the rational part ; one, Rational by which we contemplate those existing tilings, the subdivided principles of wliich are in necessaiy matter ; the ^^, ~ . other, by which we contemplate those, the principles of ^ovixrov, which are contingent. For for the contemplation of which is objects which differ in kind there are corresponding conver- paits of the soul differing in kind also, and naturally ng"esMiry adapted to each ; if it is from a kind of resemblance matter, and afliriity that they obtain the knowledge of AoyiaTi- tliem. Let one of these be called the scientific, f^v, which and the other the reasoning part f for deliberating g^^^^^^' contingent * In this division of the rational soul ( \6yov txov Kvpitog matter. Kai iv avT Intellect,^ and Appetite ; but of these, sensa- TTpdKeojg. tion is the principle of no moml action ; and this is AiffOrjaig. clear from the fact that beasts possess sensation, Q°*'|* but do not participate in moral action. But pur- ' ' suit and avoidance m appetite are precisely what 2. aflirmation and denial are in intellect.^ So that I ovofthe ^^^^® moral virtue is a habit together with deU- XoyioTCKov berate preference, and deliberate preference is ap- uepog. petite, together with deliberation, it is necessaiy, for these reasons, that the reasoning process be true, that which contemplates contingent matter (to XoyiariKoi/), or cidvoia, is Verstand. — See Michelet. ^ Genus is ascertained by considering the matter on which each art, &c. is employed : this the schoolmen called subjec- tum materiale, — uXjj. The differentia by considering its effect or object ; this is the subjectum formale. Truth, therefore, is the subjectum formale, or object-matter ; necessary or contin- gent matter the subjectum materiale, or subject-matter. — See Brewer, p. 221. « The word in the original, which is here translated ** intel- lect," is vovQ, and is used in its most comprehensive sense; not in the limited sense in which it is used in chapter vi. By sensation {aiaOrjcng) is meant the perception of the ex- ternal senses. ^ The Greek word is Sidvoia, which properly means ** the movement of the intellect (vovg) onward in the inves- tigation of truth ; " but here, as in some other places, it if used loosely as synonymous with vovg. :hap. ii.J KTHICS. 15S and the appetite correct, if the deliberate preference is good; and that the one affirm, and the other pursue, the same things. This intellect, therefore, and this truth are practical. Of the intellect, which is contemplative, and not 3. practical, or productive ; truth and falsehood con- Aud of the stitute the goodness and the badness ; for this is '^ifi-»?/*o- the work of eveiy intellectual faculty; but of''*'^"*'' that part of it which is both practical and intel- lectual, truth, which is in agreement with right desire. The deliberate preference, therefore, by which we 4. are moved to act, and not the object for the sake of which we act, is the principle of action ; and desire and reason, which is for the sake of somethinjj, is the origin of deliberate preference ; hence delibciate preference does not exist without intellect and reason, nor without moral habit ; for a good course of action and its contrary cannot exii^t without in- tellect and moral character. Intellect of itself is not the motive principle of 5. any action, but only that intellect wliich is for the something, and is practical ; for this governs the intellect which produces also ; for every person that makes anything, makes it for the sake of some- thing; and the tiling made is not an end abso- lutely, but it has reference to something, and belongs to some one : but this is not the case with the thing practised ; for excellence of action is the end, and appetite is for this. Wherefore deliberate 6. preference is either intellect influenced by appetite, or appetite influenced by intellect ; and such a prin- ciple is man. But nothing past is the object of Man the deliberate preference ; as no one dehberately prefers origin of that Troy should have been destroyed ; for a man ^^!.®^^ does not deliberate about what has happened, but what is future and contingent. But what is past does not admit of being undone ; therefore Aga- tlion rightly says, " Of this alone even God is de- prived, the power of making tilings that are pa»*» 154 ARISTOTLE'S [book VI. never to have been."s Tnith, theisfore, is the work of both the intellectual parts of the soul ; and those habits by which each part will best arrive at truth must be the virtues of them both. CHAP. III. Of the Five Intellectual Virtues, and Science in particular. 1. BEGDTNrrNG, therefore, from the commencement, let us There are five habits by which the soul arrives at truth. Contin- gent matter defined. speak of these things again. Let the habits, there- fore, by which the sovd arrives at truth by affirm- ation, or denial, be five in number -^ and these are Art, Science, Prudence, AVisdom, and Intuition ; for it is possible to be deceived by supposition and opinion. Now, the nature of science is evident from this consideration (if it is necessary to speak accurately, and not to be led by resemblances), that we all suppose, that what we know scientifically is necessary matter. But contingent matter, as soon as it is beyond the province of contemplation, may exist or not, with- Jf Non tamen irritum Quodcunque retro est, efficiet ; neque Diffinget infectumque reddet, Quod fugiens seinel hora vexit. — Hor. •» The five habits here spoken of have been arranged by Brewer, as follows, according to the kind of truth which each has for its object. See on this and other points connected with this part of the subject, his able introduction to the Ethics, Book V. Abstract truth. Practical or moral Truth with truth. production. rexvn Principles. Deductions from principles. 1. vovg. 2. ifrKTrfjuj]. 3. vith reason, nor any such habit which is not an art, an art and a habit of making joined with reason must le one and the same thing. 3. All art is conversant with three processes, — Pro- Art is con- duction. Contrivance, and Contemplation ; in order versantwith ^]^i something may be produced, the existence and TEYvdZtiv iioii-^xistence of which are contingent, and the yij/fo-ie. ' princij)le of which is in the doer, and not in the thing done ; for art is not concerned with things that exist or originate necessarily or naturally; for 4. these things have their origin in themselves. But since making and practice are different things, it is necessary that art should relate to making, and not to practice. And in some sense chance and art are conversant with the same subjects, as Agathon also says, "Art loves chance, and chance loves art."^ Art defined. Art, therefore, as has been said, is a certain habit of making joined with tioie reason ; and absence of art, on the contrary, is a habit of making joined with false reason, in contingent matter. CHAP. V. Of Prudence, or moral Wisdom. 1. We should best understand the subject of prudencf,, The cha- if we were first to consider w^hom we call pru- racteristics (jgnt. Now it seems to be the mark of the prudetc '' Art and chance are concerned with the same subject, matter, and so dosely connected are they, that it is a well- known fact that many of ihe most important discoveries ia .he arts have originated in accident- CHAP. t1 ethics. 15/ man to be able to deliberate well respecting what is good and expedient for himself; not in pai-ticular instances, as what sort of things are good for his health or strength, but what is good and expedient fo? living well. And a sign of this is, that we call men prudent on any particular subject, when they reason well, with a view to obtain some good end, in subjects where art is not concerned. So that generally he who is apt to deliberate, is prudent. But no one deliberates about things that cannot 2. jDossibly be otherwise than they are, nor about things Difference which do not admit of being done by himself. So ^et^veen that if science is with demonstration, and there is ^nd*"^*'^*^ no demonstration m matters the premises of which imaTriiiti, are contingent (for such conclusions must all be contingent likewise), and it is not possible to deli- berate on necessary matter,^ then pi-udence cannot be science, or art : it is not science, because the sub- ject-matter of moral action is contingent ; it is not art, because the nature of practice differs from that of making. It remains, therefore, that it is a time habit 3. joined with reason, which is practical on the subjects of human good and evil ; for the end of making is something different from this,™ but the end of practice is not ; for goodness of practice is itself the end. For this reason we think Pericles, and those 4. like liim, prudent men, because they were able to IHustrationi perceive what was good for themselves, and for mankind ; and we think that this is the character of those who understand oeconomics and politics. Hence likewise we give to temperance its appella- Nominal tion aoxbpocTvvr}, as preserving prudence :" for it pre- definition of '' principles of that which is the subject of science cannot be science, or art, or pinidence. For the subject of science is capable of demonstration ; but these two habits are conversant with contingent matter. Consequently neither is wisdom conversant with these ; for it is tlie part of the wise man to ^ have demonstration on some subjects. If, then, the " means by which we arrive at truth, and are never deceived on subjects immutable and contingent, are science, prudence, wisdom, and intuition,*i and it is impossible to be any one of the first three, I mean prudence, wisdom, and science ; it remains that in- tuition must be the habit which takes cognizance of the princij)les of science. virtuous energies, as contrasted with those of science ; as our virtuous principles are developed and called into action every hour of our lives ; and hence we cannot forget them, as we can the subjects of scientific knowledge. — See Book I. c. x. 1 The following is Aristotle's definition in the Magna Moralia (i. 35) of voDc. which I have translated ** Intuition ;" i. e. the habit which apprehends without any reasoning pro- cess. 'O vovQ IffTi TTtpi rag apxag rwv voriTutv Kal tS-v QVThiv' i) fikv yap tTTKTT///.?; raJi/ fitT diroSsi^emQ ovtojv ivrly «i S' apxni avonroSeiXTVi, 150 ARISTOTLE S [sect vi. CHAP. VII. 0/ Wisdom. . !• But in tlie arts we attribute wisdom^ to those wKo ^ofpia IS ^j.a most accurately skilled in the arts : for example, kind! • ^® ^^^^ Phidias a wise worker in stone, and Polycli- Universal. tus a wise statuary, in this use of the word, meaning Particular, nothing more by wisdom than that it is the excel- lence of art. But we think that some are universalh' wise j and not wise only in some particular art ; as Homer says in his Margite.s,^ " Him the gods made neither a digger, nor a ploughman, nor wise in any other way." 2. So that it is clear that wisdom iflust be the It is AKpi- most accurate of all the sciences. The wise man ^fTTarr}. xnust therefore not only know the facts which are deduced from principles, but must also attain truth Is com- respecting the principles themselves. So that wis- posedof dom must be intuition and science together, and vovQ and science of the most honourable subjects, having as IMffersfrom ^* '^^^^ ^ ^^^^ J ^^^ ^* ^^ absurd if a person thinks i>p6t'T](Tig. political science, or prudence, the best thing pos- ' 2o0ia in its particular application to the arts signifies skill ; in its general signification the term is used to express the habit which apprehends both the principles of science and the deductions derived from them by demonstrations ; for this reason it is said to be composed of vovg and tTTKrrrjfxr). The following are instances given by Muretus of different applica- tions of the word tro^ta : — Homer (II. xv. 412) attributes to a skilful shipbuilder Tratrav (jo^iav. Xenophon called skil- fully-seasoned dishes p6vr](ne. He therefore tells us that the end of the latter is practical truth, of the former theoretical truth ; that the latter is conversant with particulars as well as univer- sals, because in all moral action the important part is the practical application ; whereas the former is conversant with universals only. The practical application he calls afterwards (c. viii.) the extreme (ro taxaTov), and (c. xi.) the minor premiss. It has often been observed with truth, that the syl- logistic process is confined to the conviction of the intellect, but that in whatever cases we act as moral and rational beings, we act upon a syllogism. In this we are distinguished froni the inferior animals, who act from instinct. 162 ARISTOTLE'S [book n. 6. Por this reason men call Anaxagoras^ and Thales, Examples Qjid others of this description, wise, but not pru- aeorasand d®^*? when they see that they are ignorant of what Thales. is expedient for themselves. And they say that they are acquainted with subjects which are superfluous, and wonderftd, and difficult, and divine, but yet use- less, because they do not study the subject of human good. But prudence is concerned with human affaii-s, and those subjects about wliich it is pos- sible to deliberate. For this, that is, to delibei'ate well, we say is the work of the prudent man espe- cially. 7. But no one deliberates about things which cannot be otherwise than they are, nor about those of which there is not some end, and this end a good capable of being the subject of moral action. But absolutely the good deHberator is he, who is skilful in aiming at the best of the objects of human action. Nor yet is prudence limited to universals only, but it is necessary to have a knowledge of particulars also : for prudence is practical, and prac- tice turns upon particulars. Therefore some who have no theoretical knowledge, are more practical than others who have it ; those, for example, who 3. derive their skill from experience. For if a man should know that light meats are easy of digestion, and are wholesome, without knowing what meats are light, he will never produce health ; but he who knows nothing more than that the flesh of birds i? light and wholesome, will be more likely to produce it. But prudence is practical, so that it is good to have both, or if not both, it is better to have this. But there must be in prudence also some ma;$ter vii-tue. CUAP. VIII.] ETHirs 163 CHAP. YIIT. Of the different parts of Prudence. Now political prudencej and prudence, are the same J. habit, yet their essence is not the same. But of *ifpovi](Tii prudence which is conversant with the state, one ^^^ *^^ - J... r--u- -J. 1-ir.j. science of division, which is, as it were, a kind of master- g^^,-^ Yiie. prudence, is legislative ; a second, which is parti- differ in cular, is called by the common name political j but essence, this is practical ; for a decree, as being the last thing, is the subject of action. Hence men say that practical statesmen alone regulate the state ; for these alone act, Hke artificers. '^ But the pru- 2. dence which refers to one's self and the individual "Various appears to be most properly prudence : and this species of bears the common name of prudence. But of those 0P"'''7'^*.F» three divisions,^ one is economical, the second legis- lative, and the tliii-d political; and of this last there are two sub-divisions, one the deliberative, the other the judicial. Now there must be a certain species of know- 3. ledge, namely, the knowing what is good for one's self ; but on this question there is great dijQTerenci' " Practical statesmen manage the detail, and therefore are more properly said to regulate the state, as a mason, properly speaking, builds the house, and not the architect. tripi avToV oiKovofiinj. Trepi ttoXiv {KVpiiog) I VOfloOfTlK)! TToKlTlKtf i. e. TrpoKTiKi), fiovXtVTlKT]. ^LKaOTlKrj* B m2 The divisions of prudence may be denominated personal, •conomical, legislative, administrative, executive. 264 ARISTOTLE'S [book vi^ of opinion ; and lie who knoAvs his o^ni coucernSy and employs himself in them, is thought to be pru- dent, but politicians appear busy-bodies. Therefore Euripides says, " How can I be pmdent, I who had it in my power without trouble, by being numbered among the multitude of the army, to share alike t For Zeus hates those who are busy-bodies, and do 4. too much."^ For men seek what is good to them- selves, and tliink that this is what they ought to do : from tliis opinion, therefore, arose the idea that such people as these are prudent ; and yet perhaps it is not impossible to attain one's own good without economical, nor without poHtical prudence. But still, it is an obscure subject, and one which requii*es investigation, how one ought to manage one's own affairs. A young This is an evidence of the truth of what we have man maybe gai^ that young men become geometricians and but^not mathematicians, and wise in tilings of this kind ; fpovifiog. but it is thought that a young man cannot become 5. prudent. The reason of this is, that prudence is conversant A\'ith particulars, and the knowledge of particulars is acquired by experience alone ; but a young man is not experienced ; for length of time 6. causes experience. One might study tHs question also, why a child can become a mathematician, but not wise, i.e. a natural philosopher ?* Is it because the former subjects are derived from abstraction, whilst the principles of the latter are learnt from experience 1 And the latter subjects young men enunciate, though they are not persuaded of their truth ; but the reality of the former is evident. Again, errors in deliberation are either in the universal, or the particular; for the error is, not knowing, either that all heavy waters are fcaJ, , or that this water is heavy. * These lines are said to be taken from a lost tragedy of Euripides, entitled ** the Philoctetes.'* * 1.0(pbQ rj (pvffLKOQ in the original. It is clear, therefore, that ^uo-iicoi; is the explanation of the preceding word TrpCJToi opoi), such as the axioms, definitions, &c. in mathematical science. ITie intuition {vovq), therefore, here spoken of, is the pura intellectual intuition, not practical or moral intuition. 166 ARISTOTLE'S t,B0OX VI It is an Not of iTTKTT^flT]. Nor of But of fiovXr). 'Op96TnQ is used in many q\iick ; but we deliberate for a long time, and say, that it is right to execute quickly what we have resolved upon, but to deliberate slowly.* Again, sagacity^ is a different thing from good deli- beration ; and sagacity is a kind of happiness of conjecture. Therefore no kind of good deliberation is opinion. Now since he who deliberates badly, errs, but he who dehberates well, deliberates cor- rectly, it is plain, that good deliberation is a kind of correctness. It is not correctness either of science or of opinion ;^^^ (for there is no correctness of science, because there is no error :) and truth is the correctness of opinion ; besides, everything of which there is opinion has been already defined. Still, however, good deliberation cannot be without reason. It remains, therefore, that it is the correct- ness of the iuteiisct, moving onwards in the inves- tigation of tnith, i. e. ciavoiaj for it is not yet an assertion ; but opinion is not investigation, but is at once an assertion. ^'^ But he who deHberates, whether he does it well or ill, investigates something and reasons. But good deliberation is a sort of cor- rectness of delibei-ation ; therefore we must inquii-e what is the nature, and what the subject-matter, of deliberation. Since the term correctness is used in more senses than one, it is plain that good deliberation is not every kind of correctness ; for the incontinent and depraved man will from reasoning arrive at that which he proposes to himself to look to ; so that he will have deliberated rightly, and yet have arrived at • BovKevov fieu ^paSeas, iirirc\€i 5h raxfdJS. — Isocrat, •• In the later Analytics, i. 34, ayx^^oia is defined cuo-Tox'a ^g Iv dcrKSTTTti) XP^^"{* "^^^ fikaov, A happy conjecture, with- out previous consiiieration, of the middle term. '''' Good deliberation is (1) not a correctness of scienoe because there is no such thing as incorrectness of it ; (2) it is not a correctness of opinion {hota), because (a) the correctness of So^a is truth ; because (b) ^o^a is an assertion {fpatytq), ami not an investitjation ('Cf]TT)fiti discriminating candour of the equitable ma:i j and defined, that is correct which is the candour of the truthfiil man. But all these habits reasonably tend to the 2. same point ; for we speak of cando\ir, intelligence, Different prudence, and perception, referring to the same ^^^^^ ^ characters the possession of candour, of perception, ^^xe same of prudence, and of intelligence ; for all these facul- point, ties are of the extremes, and of particulars. And it is in being apt to decide on points on which the prudent man decides, that intelligence, kind feel- ing, and candour, are displayed. For equitable con- ^* siderations are common to all good men in their intercourse with others. But all matters of moral conduct are particulars and extremes; for the prudent man ought to know them, and intelli- gence and candour are concerned with matters of moral conduct, and these are extremes. Intuition is of the extremes on both sides f^ for ^' intuition, and not reason, takes cognizance of the first principles, and of the last results : that intu- ition which belongs to demonstration takes cogni- zance of the immutable and first principles ; that which belongs to practical subjects takes cognizance " Intuition (vovg), as we have seen above, properly signi- fies the faculty which takes cognizance of the first principles of science. Aristotle here, whether analogically or considering it a division of the same faculty, it is difficult to say, applies the term to that power which we possess of apprehending the principles of morals, of seeing what is right and wrong by an intuitive process, without the intervention of any reasoning process. It is what Bishop Butler calls "our sense of dis- cernment of actions as morally good or evil." In this two ■ fold use of the term I'oyc there is no real inconsistency, because it is evidently, as Mr. Brewer says, p. 247, note, " the same faculty, whether employed upon the first principles of sciencs or of morals." Every moral agent acts upon a motive (oy ivsKa), wheiher good or bad. This motive is, in other words, the principle upon which we act, and is the major premiss of the practical syllogism {(Tv\\6yi(TnoQ rwv TrpaKTtiv). But the minor premiss of the practical syllogism bears relation tc the major, of a particular to a universal ; therefore as univer- pals are made up of particulars, it follows that the origin ApXH^ of the motive or principle is the minor premiss. 170 ARISTOTLE'S [book vi. of the last result of contingent matters, and of tlio Tito kinds minor premiss ; for these {i. e. minor premisses) are of intuition, the origin of the motive ; for imiversals are made Aip-0/jaic. up of particulars. Of these, therefore, it is neces- sary to have perception ; and perception is intu- 5. ition. Therefore these habits have been thought to be natural ; and although no man is naturally wise {(TO(j)uc), he is thought to have candour, intelli- gence, and intuition, naturally. A sign of this is, that we tliink that these qualities naturally accom- pany certain ages ; and that one particular age possesses perception and candour, as though nature were the cause of it.^^ 6. Therefore intuition is at once the beginning and the end ; for demonstrations have extremes both Attention for their origin and their subjects. ss So that we toautho- ought to pay attention to the undemonstrated "*y* sayings and opinions of persons who are experi- enced, older than we are, and prudent, no less than to their demonstrations ; for because they have ob- tained from their experience an acuteness of moral vision, they see correctly. What, therefore, is the nature of wisdom and of prudence, wliat the ob- jects of both, and the fact that each is the virtue of a different part of the soul, has been stated. - ^ " The meaning of this passage is as follows : It has been held that a disposition to form a candid judgment of men and things, an ability to comprehend and grasp the suggestions of Other minds, independently of the power of reasoning out con- clusions for ourselves ; and, lastly, a moral sense of right and wrong, by which we have a perception of the principles of moral action, are natural gifts ; as a sign or evidence of this, it has been observed that these faculties are more espe- cially developed at particular periods of life, in the same way that physical properties are. But ctocpia, i.e. scientific knowledge, which is based upon demonstration, and is in fact a demonstrative habit, must for this reason be the result of an active exercise of the perceptive and reasoning powers, and therefore cannot be natural, but must be acquired. K» That is, demonstrations have for their origin and foun- dation first principles, of which intuition takes cognizance, and the object of demonstration is to arrive at conclusions which come under the province of intuition likewise. CHAP. XII.] ETHICS. 171 CHAP. XII. On the utility of Wisdom and Prudence. The question might be asked, how are these habits 1. usefiii 1 for wisdom does not contemplate any of T^ree ob- the means by which a man will become happy ; for {.^e^^^^^^ it relates to no production. Piiidence, indeed, has of (pn6vt]rrect ; but it is not the part of virtue, but of CHAi'. XII. ] ETHICS. 173 some other faculty, to direct ariglit tliose thingsj which must be done with a view to that principle. But we must stop and tpeak on these subjects with more clearness. Now, there is a certain faculty which is called 8. cleverness ; " the nature of wliich is to be able to ^"»'"''»?fr do, and to attain, those tilings which conduce to the aim proposed. If, therefore, the aim be good, the cleverness is praiseworthy ; but if it be bad, it becomes craft :JJ therefore we call prudent men clever, and not crafty. Now prudence is not the same 9. as this faculty, nor is it without this faculty. But It is not the habit is produced upon this eye, as it were, identical of the soul, not without virtue, as we have already rL^„ being inseparable from moral virtue, so that if a man possesses perfect prudence, it develops itself in perfect obedience to the moral law ; and the perfection of the one implies the perfection of the other also, is analogous to the relation which exists be- tween faith and obedience in Christian ethics. A living faitii necessarily brings forth good works, and by them a living faith is as evidently known as a tree is discerned by its fruits. He, therefore, who possesses true faith possesses all virtue ; and in proportion to the imperfection of obedience is the imperfection cf faJtb.. 176 ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [book vi "^^^* ^^ ^7 nature honourable and good, naturally contrary to reason, are blamed; as for example, good is those who are very anxious, and more so than they blamed. ought to be, for honour, or for their children an/ parents (for these are goods, and those, who aj^ anxious about them, are praised) ; but, nevertheless, there may be excess even in the case of these, if any one, like Niobe, were to fight against the gods, or were to act like Satyrus surnamed Philopater, with respect to his duty to his father; for he was thought to he excessively fooHsh. 9^ There is therefore no depravity in those cases It is not for the reason given, that each belongs to the class actually of things which are by nature chosen for their own fioxOripia. " The yielding to slight temptations shows greater depravity than the giving way to strong ones. A sinoilar maxim is laio down in the Rhet. I. xiv., with respect to acts of injustice. CHAP, v.l ILTHIC3. 189 sakes ; but still tlie excesses are bad and to r.Ks avoided. So also there is no incontinence ; for in- continence is not only to be avoided, but it belongs also to the class of tilings blameable. But from the similarity of the affection, we use the term incon- tinence, ^\nth the addition of the idea of relation : just as we call a man a bad physician and a bad actor, whom we would not absolutely call bad. As, therefore, in tl>ese instances we would not call them so absolutely, because each is not really a vice, but Ave call them so from analogy ; so in the other case Object- it is cleai" that we must suppose that only to be in- matter of -ontinence and continence, wliich has the same ^° j^j"^"^* object-matter 'vith temperance and intemperance, tinence In the case of anger, we use the term analogically ; the same as and therefore we call a man incontinent, adding " of that of tem- anger," just as we add " of honour," or " of gain." perance perance. CHAP. Y. Of Brutality, and the forms of it. But since some things are pleasant by nature (and 1. of these, some are absolutely so, others relatively ^^^^^\^" to different kinds of animals and men), others are *^ pleasant not from nature, but some owing to bodily injuries, others from custom, and others from na- tural depravity, in each of these we may observe corresponding habits. '^ I mean by brutal habits, 2. for instance, the case of that woman,o who, they say, Examples of-^/jjOiorifC J . I ^VOtl OV Nam quis est, pro deum atque hominum fidem ! qui velit, ut neque diligat quenquam, nee ipse ab ullo diligatur, circum • fluere omnibus copiis, atque in omnium rerum abundanba vivere ? — Cic. Lael. xv. 52. CHAP. I.] ETHICS. 203 those who possess office and authority, there seems to friendsnip be an especial need of friends ; for what use is there to virtue, in such good fortune, if the power of conferring 2- benefits is taken away, which is exerted principally and in the most praiseworthy manner towards friends 1 or how could it be kept sale and preserved without friends ? for the greater it is, the more in- secure is it. And in poverty and in all other mis- 3. fortunes men tliink that friends are the only refuge.^ It is also necessary to the young, in order to keep them from error, and to the old, as a comfort to them, and to supply that wliich is deficient in theii' actions on account of weakness; and to those in the vigour of life to fui-ther their noble deeds, as the poet says, '* When two come together," &c, Horn. 11. X. 224.d For they are more able to conceive and to execute. It seems also naturally to exist in the producer 4. towai'ds the produced ;^ and nob only in men, but That it is also in bb'ds, and in most animals, and in those of ^^ "^* * the same race,*^ towards one another, and most of all in human beings : whence we praise the philan- thropic. One may see, also, in travelling, how in- timate and friendly every man is with his fellow- man. Friendsliip also seems to hold states together, and 5. •= Adversas res ferre difficile esset, sine eo, qui illas gravius etiam, quam tu ferret. Nam et secundas res splendidiores facit amicitia, et adversas partiens communicansque leviores. —Lsel. vi. 22. •* The whole passage is thus translated by Pope : — ** By mutual confidence, and mutual aid, Great deeds are done, and great discoveries made ; The wise new prudence from the wise acquire, And one brave hero fans another's fire." Pope, Horn. 11. x. 265. ' Filiola tua te delectari laetor, et probari tibi, ipvaiKi^v esse r»/i' Trpoc TO. TtKva. — Cic. ad Att. vii. 2, 4. * Quod si hocapparet in bestiis, primum ut se ipsse diligar.t, deinde ut requirant atque appetant, ad quas se applicent eju!>- dem generis animantes. — Lael. xxi. bi. See also Theocr. i*. 31. 204 ARISTOTLE S [book viri. Friendship legislators appear to pay more attention to it than of impor- to justice ; for unanimity of opinion seems to be *tates -^it something resembling friendship ; and they ai'e supersedes niost desirous of this, and banish faction as being justice. the greatest enemy. And when men are friends, there is no need of justice :S but when they are 6. just, they still need friendship. And of all just things that which Ls the most so is thought to belong It is KnXov. to friendship. It is not only necessaiy, but alsa honourable ; for we praise those who are fond of friends ; and the having many friends seems to be one kind of things honourable. 7. But there are not a few questions raised concern- ing it ; for some lay it down as being a kind of resemblance, and that those who resemble one another are friends ; whence they say, " Like to like,"^ " Jackdaw to jackdaw," and so on : others, on the contrary, say that all such are like jjotters to one another. And on these points they carry their investigation higher and more physiologically. Euripides says, " The earth parch'd up with drought doth love the rain : The lowering heavens when filled with moisture love To fall to earth." « Heraclitus^ also thought that opposition is advan- tageous, and that the most beautiful harmony arises from things different, and that everytliing is pro- » This is true upon the same principle which is the foun- dation of the Christian maxim, ** Love is the fulfilling of the law." >" See Horn. Od. xvii. 218 :— ** The good old proverb does this pair fulfil, One rogue is usher to another still. Heaven with a secret principle endued Mankind, to seek their own similitude." — Pope. The proverb Kipafievg Kfpafiei Koreet, is from Hesiod^ Works and Days, 25. It is equivalent to our own proverb — " Two of a trade can never agree." — See also Arist. Rhet. Book IL 0. iv. * The whole passage may be found in Athenaeus's Deipnos. xin. ^ Heraclitus of Ephesus held that all things were produce * ** ex motu contrario rerum contrariarum." CHAP I. .J ETHICS. 205 duced by strife. tiers, and especially EmpedoclesJ 8. held contrary opinions, for they held — that like is fond of like. Now, let the physiological questions be passed over, for they do not belong to our present consideration. But as for all the questions which have to do with man, and refer to his moral character and his pas- sions, these let us consider ; as, for instance, whe- ther friendship exists between all, or whether it is impossible for the wicked to be friends : and, whe- Wliether ther there is only one species of friendship, or more ; friendship -^or those who think there is only one, because it ^^" ^^^^^ admits of degrees, trust to an insufficient proof : J^^cked for things differing in species admit of degrees ; Whether it but we have spoken of this before.^ of more kinds than CHAP. II. What the Object of Love is. Perhaps we might arrive at clear ideas about these I. matters if it were known what the object of love is : *iXj?r^ar6 for it is thought to be not everything which is loved, ^X'^^^^i but only that which is an object of love ; and this Lv!^^*''^*' is the good, the pleasant, or the useful. That would be thought to be useful, by means of which some good or some pleasure is produced : so that the good and pleasant would be objects of love, considered as ends. Do men, then, love the good, or that which is good to themselves ? for these sometimes are at variance. The case is the same with the pleasant. Each is thought to love that which is good to him- * Compare what Cicero says of Empedocles, in the Lselius, c. vii. : — " Agrigentinum quidera doctum qusedam carminibus Grsecis vaticinatum ferunt, quae in rerum natura totoque mundo constarent, quaeque moverentur, ea contrahere amici- tiam, dissipare concordiam." "» The scholiast says that the passage in which this subject was before spoken of must have been lost, but it probably refers to Eth. Book II. c. viii. 205 ARISTOTLE'S [book mh. self ; and absolutely the good is an object of lovt\ but relatively to each individual, that which is so to each. 2. Now, each loves not that wliich is in reality good The fiKri- to himself, but that which appeai-s so ; but :lus yviU Tdv IS t e jj^g^i^Q j^Q difference : for the object of love will be ayaOov. ^^'^^ which appears to be good. But since there We have no are three motives on account of which men love, the friendship term friendship cannot be used to express a fond- matethino-3 ^®^^ ^^^ things inanimate : for there is no return * * of fondness, nor any wishing of good to them.^ For it is perhaps ridiculous to wish good to wine ; but if a man does so, he wishes for its preservation, in ordei 3. that he himself may have it. But we say that men should wish good to a friend for his sake ; and those who wish good to him thus, we call well-dis- posed, unless there is also the same feeling enter- tained by the other party ; for good- will mutually felt is friendship ; or must we add the condition, that this mutual good-will must not be unknown i. to both parties ? For many feel good-'will towards those whom they have never seen, but who they suppose are good or useful to them ; and this same feeling may be reciprocated. These, then, do in- deed appear well-disposed towards one another; but how can one call them friends, when neither Defii^tion. knows how the other is disposed to him 1 They ought, therefore, to have good-will towards each other, and wish each other what is good, not witli- uot each other's knowledge, and for one of the mo- tives mentioned. CHAP. III. On the different kinds of Friendship. 1. But these motives differ in species from one ano- S'friend"^' ther; tlierefore the affections do so likewise, and the »bip. ■ Compare Rhet. II. iv. c«A.-, ill.] KTHICS. 207 tViendsliips ; consequently there are tliree species of friendship, equal in number to the objects of love, since in each there is a return of affection, and both parties are aware of it. But those A\'ho love one another wish what is good to one another, according to the motive on account of which they love. Now, 2. those who love one another for the sake of the use- ful, do not love each other disinterestedly, but only so far forth as there results some good to themselves from one another. The case is the same with those who love for the sake of pleasure, for they do not love the Avitty from their being of such a character*, but because they are pleasant to them ; and, there- fore, those who love for the sake of the useftil love for the sake of what is good to themselves, and those who love for the sake of pleasure love for the sake of what is pleasant to themselves, and not so far forth as the person loved exists, but so far forth as he is useful or pleasant. These friendships, therefore, are accidental ; for 3. the person loved is not loved for being who he is, but Fnend- for providing something either good or pleasant ; con- ^ ^P'"*" ^* sequently such friendships are easily dissolved, if the and CulVb parties do not continue in similar circumstances; for r'lSv, are if they are no longer pleasant or useful, they cease ^^^^^V ^^s- to love. Now the useful is not permanent, but be- ^^^"^^y ^^ comes different at different' times j therefore, when dental', that is done away for the sake of which they be- came friends, the friendship also is dissolved ; which clearly shows that the friendship was for those mo- tives. Such fiiendship is thought mostly to bo formed 4. between old men;<^ for men at such an age do not J^^ fornwj pursue the pleasant, but the useftil ; and it is found Jfj^fg^ "^ amongst those in the prime of life and in youth twe^eif the" who pursue the useftil. old. But such persons do noi generally eveh associate ^vith one another, for sometimes they are not plea- sant ; consequently they do not need such intimacy, • See on characters of the young and the old Arist. Rhet. Lib. II. cc. xii. xiii. ; also Hor. de Art. Poet., and Ter. Adelph V.iii. art!? ARISTOTLE'S [coou viri. unless they are useful to each other ; for they are pleasant so far as they entertain hopes of good. Amongst friendships of this kind is ranked that of 5. hospitality. The friendsliip of the young is thought riie latter to be for the sake of pleasure ; for they live accord- between the ing to passion, and mostly piu'sue what is pleasant yo\ir\^. ^Q themselves and present ; but as they grow older, their idea of what is pleasant also becomes different ; therefore they quickly become friends and quickly cease to be so ; for their friendship changes together with what is pleasant ; and of such pleasure as tliis 6. the change is rapid. Young men also are given to sexual love ; for the principal part of sexual love is from passion and for the sake of pleasure; there- fore they love and quickly cease to love, changing often in the same day; but they wish to pass their time together and to associate, for thus they attain what they sought in their friendship. 7. The friendship of the good and of those who The friend- are alike in virtue is perfect ; for these wisli good gooV ^ ^ *^ ^^® another in the same way, so far forth as they are good ; but they are good of themselves ; and those who wish good to their friends for the friends' sake are friends in the highest degree, for they have this feeling for the sake of the friends themselves, and not accidentally; their friendsliip, therefore, continues as long as tliey are good ; and includes the virtue is a permanent thing.? And each is good ab- oxpkXifiov solutely and also relatively to his friend, for the '^°^ ^1^^' good are both absolutely good and also relatively to one another ; for to each their own actions and those which are like their own are pleasant, but the actions of the good are either the same or similar. 8. Such friendship as this is, as we might expect. Is ponna- permanent, for it contains in it all the requisites for nent. friends ; for every friendship is for the sake of good or pleasure, either absolutely or to the person loving and results from a certain resemblance. In thS P Virtus, virtus inquam, et conciliat amicitias et conservat; in ea est enim couvenientia rerum, in ea stabilitas, in ea coa- fttantia. — Cic. Lsel. xxvii. CHAP, IV.] ITHTCS. SOU fiiendship, all that has been mentioned exists ii^ the parties themselves, for in this there is a simi- larity, and all the other requisites, and that which is absolutely good is also absolutely pleasant ; but these are the principal objects of love, and therefore the feeling friendship, and friendship itself, exists, and is best, in these more than in any others. It is to be expected that such would be rare, 9. for there are few such characters as these. More- Rare, re- over, it requires time and long acquaintance, for, ^1^"^®* ^i"**» according to the proverb, it is impossible for men to know one another before they have eaten a stated quantity of salt together,^ nor oan they admit each other to intimac;y nor become friends before each appears to the other worthy of his friendship, and his confidence. Those who hastily perfonn offices of 10. friendship to one another are willing to be friends, but are not really so unless they are also worthy of friendship, and are aware of this ; for a wish for friendship is formed quickly, but not friendship. This species of friendship, therefore, both A\ath respect to time and eveiything else, is perfect, and in all respects the same and like good offices are inter- changed ; and this is precisely what ought to be the case between friends. CHAP. lY. That (he Good are Friend^ absolutely, but all others accidentally. Fkiendship for the sake of the pleasant bears a f , resemblance to this, for the good are pleasant to one another ; so also that which is for the sake of the useful, for the good are useftd to one another. Between these persons friendships are most perma- 2. nent when there is the same return from both to Equality causes pen *» Verumque illud est quod dicitur multos modios salis manence. simul edendos esse, ut amicitee munus expletum sit.— Cic. Ltel. xiz. P 210 ARISTOTLE'S [book vut. T>oth, for instance, of pleasure. And not only so, but a return from the same cause, for instance, iu the case of two persons of easy pleasantry ; and not as in the case of the lover and the person beloved, for these do not feel pleasure in the same things, but Prieadship t^e one in seeing the beloved object, and the other between in receiving attention from the lover; but when the lovers not bloom of youth ceases, sometimes the friendship permanent, ^q^^^ ^i^^^ f^j, ^^^ sight of the beloved object is no longer pleasant to the one, and the other does not receive attention ; many, however, continue friends if from long acquaintance they love the cha- racter, being themselves of the same character. 3. Those who in love affairs do not interchange the pleasant but the useful are both friends in a less degree, and less permanently; but those who are friends for the sake of the useful dissolve their friendsliip when that ends; for they were not Mends to one another but to the useful. 4. Consequently, for the sake of pleasure and the Between useful, it is possible for the bad to be friends with whoni there ^^^ another, and the tjood with the bad, and one friendships ^^° ^^ neither good nor bad with either ; but for SiA TO xph- ^^® sake of one another, evidently only the good can mfjLov and be friends, for the bad feel no pleasure in the per- cia^ TO gQj^g themselves, unless so far as there is some ad- *' '^* g vantage. The friendship of the good is alone safe Friendship from calumny, for it is not easy to believe any one of the good respecting one who has been proved by ourselves alone safe during a long space of time ; and between such per- r<^ ca- g^^g there is confidence and a certainty that one's friend would never have done wi'ong/ and every- C, thing else which is expected in real friendship. In the other kinds of friendships there is nothing to hinder such thiiigs from occurring ; consequently, since men call those friends who are so for the sake of the useful, just as states do (for alliances seem to be formed between states for the sake of advan- ' Nunquam Scipionem, ne minima quidem re offendi, quod guidera senserim ; nihil audivi ex eo ipse, quod noUem. — Cic. I(i)c.\ xxvii CHAi. ,-.] ETHICS. 211 tage), and also those who love one another for tli«» sak« of pleasure, as children do, perhaps we als onglit to saj that such men are friends, but that there are many kinds of friendship ; first and prin- cipally, that of the good so far forth as they are good, and the others from their resemblance ; for so far forth as there is something good or simi- iai ity of character, so far they are friends ; for ihe pleasant is a kind of good to those who love the i^;casant. These two latter kinds do not combine well, nor 7, do the same people become friends for the sake of the useful and the jileasant ; for two things which are accidental do not easily combine. Friendship, tlierefore, being di^^ded into these kinds, the bad will be friends for the sake of the pleasant and the iisefid, being similar in that respect ; but the good will be friends for the friends' sake, for they will be eo, so far forth as they are good ; the latter, there- fore, are friends absolutely, the former accidentally, and from their resemblance to the latter. CHAr. Y. Certain other distinctive Marks which belong to the Friendship of the Good. As in the case of the \-irtucs some are called good 1, according to the habit, others according to the Difference energy of it,^ so is it also in the case of friendships ; between tlw for some take pleasure in each other, and mutually energy «'if confer benefits by li\dng together ; but others being friendsiiii*^. asleep or locally separated, do not act, but are in a etate so as to act in a friendly manner; for difference of place does not absolutely dissolve friendship, but only the exercise of it. But if the absence is long, it 2. " Fritzsch compares i^ig (habit) with the German das Ver- bal ten, and kvkpytia (energy) with die Verwirklichung, Wirk licUkei^ p2 212 ARISTOTLE'S- [bwk nu seems to produce a cessation of fidendship ; anci hence it has been said, " Want of intercourse has dissolved many friendships." But the aged and the morose do not appear suited for friendship, for the feehng of pleasure is weak in them, and no one can pass liis time Avith that which is painfiil or not pleasant, for natiu-e is espe- cially shown in avoiding what is painful and desir- 3. ing what is pleasant. But those who approve of one Without another, without living together, seem rather well it ^^^^^^^^ inclined than friends, for notliing is so characteristic ivvota. ^^ friendship as the living together ; for the needy desire assistance, and the happy wish to pass their time together, since it least of all becomes them to be solitary. But it is impossible for men to asso- ciate together if they are not pleasant, and if they do not take pleasure in the same things ; which secm>j to be the case with the friendship of companions.'' 4. Tlie friendship of the good, then, is friendship in the highest degree, as has been said frequently ; for that which is absolutely good or pleasant is thought to be an object of love and eligible, and to each individual that which is so to him ; but the good man is an object of love and ehgible to the good, Difference f ' r both these reasons. Fondness" is like a pas- hetween sion, and friendship like a habit ; for fondness is S'^^^'^^'^ ^^^ felt no less towards inanimate things, but we re- ^' *"* turn friendship with dehberate choice, and dehberate choice proceeds from habit. We also -wish good to those whom we love for their sakes, not from pas- sion but from habit ; and when we love a friend, we love that which is good to ourselves; for the good man, when he becomes a friend, becomes a good to him whose friend he is. Each, therefore, loves that which is good to himself, and makes an equal return both in wish and in kind for equality is said * By tToipiKt] (piXia Aristotle means that intimacy which exists between those who have grown up together, and beea accustomed to each other's society from boyhood. • Amor, ex quo amicitia nominatur, est ad benevolentiao jungendam. — C'ic. Lsel. viii. CHAF.vi.] ETHICS. 213 proverbially ho he friendship/ These conditions, therefore, - exist mostly in the friendship of the good. CHAP. VI. Certain other distinctive marks which belong to Friendship. Ix the morose and the aged friendship less frequently 1. arises, inasmuch as they are more ill-tempered, and ^^^ "J®'^ ^^ take less pleasure in society ; for good-temper and fo^m^frignd, sociality seem to belong to friendship, and to pro- ships, duce it in the gi'eatcst degree. Therefore young men become friends quickly, but old men do not j for they never become friends of those in whom they do not take pleasure ; nor in like manner do the morose. But such men as these have good-will 2. towards one another ; for they wish what is good, and supply each other's wants ; but they are not friends at all, because they do not pass their time together, nor take j^leasure in each other ; and these conditions are thought especially to belong to friendship. To be friends wdth many, is iraj)ossible in pe-^- 3. feet friendsliip; jiLst as it is to be in love with many True friend, at once ; for love appears to be an excess ; and such ^^^P ^}^^ a feeling is naturally entertained towards one ob- po^g^fbi^' ject. And that many at once should greatly please the same person is not easy, and perhaps it is not easy to find many persons at once who are good. They must also become acquainted with one another, and be on intimate terms, which is very difficult. For the sake of the usefid and the pleasant, it is possible to please many ; for many are of that cha- racter, and the seiwices required are performed in a 8hoi"t time. Of these, that which is for the sake of 4. the pleasant is most like friendship, when the same Friendship ■ * See Milton's Par. Lost, viii. 333 :— ofthevouns *' Among nnequals what society Can sort, what harmony, or true delight .'" 211 ARISIOTLE'S UiooK riii. good offices are done oy }»otli. aiid they take pleasure in one another, or in the at me things ; cf which description aro the friendsh.ips of the young ; for Of trades- there is more liheiriity in them. That which is for men. the sake of tlie useful, is the friendship of tradesmen. 5. The happy do not want useful but pleasant friends^ Of the for they wish to have some persons to live with ; happy. j^j^,! |]j^y l^gjjj, anything painful for a short time only ; nor could any one bear it constantly, not even gooil itself, if it were painful to him ; hence they seek for pleasant friends. Perhaps also they ought to seek such as are good, and good also to them- selves : for thus they will have all that friends* ought to have. C. Those who are iu authority seem to make use Of uv?i in Qf different kinds of friends ; for some are useful to ^^^'' them, and others pleasant ; but the same men are not generally both ; for they do not seek for friends who are pleasant and good as well, nor such as are useful for honourable purposes : but they wish for men of wit, when they desire the pleasant, and they wisli for clever men to execute their com- mands : and these qualities are not generally united in the same person. But we have said that the good man is at once pleasant and usefid ; but such a character does not become the friend of a superior, unless the latter Is sui'passed by the former m virtue ; otherwise the person who is infe- rior in power, does not make a proportionate return ; but such men are not usually found. 7. All the friendships, therefore, which have been mentioned consist in equality : for the same things result from both parties, and they wish the same things to each other ; or else they exchange one thing for another, such as pleasure for profit. But that these friendships are less strong and less permanent has been mentioned , they seem also from their simi- larity and dissimilarity to the same thing to be. and yet not to be, friendships ; for from their resem- blance to that which is formed for virtue's sake, they appear friendships ; since one contains the plea^sant, CHAP, vii ] ETHICS. 215 and tlie other tlie usef-il, and both of these exist in the former also. But from the former being free from complaints, and lasting, whereas these rapidly change, and differ in manj^ other respects, they appear not to be friendships, from their Avant of resemblance to tme friendship. CHAP. YII. Respecting Friendship between Persons icho are Unequal. There is another species of friendship, where one 1. of the parties is superior ; as that of a father for f «^«« f«^ his son, and generally an older for a younger per- ^"^H^^X'i^'* son, and a husband for his wife, and a governor for the governed. But these differ from one another ; for the case is not the same between parents and children, as between governors and the governed ; nor is the feeling of a father for his son the same as that of a son for his father, nor of a husband for his wife, as of a wife for her husband ; for the per- fection and office of etich of these is different ; there- fore the motives of their friendship are different. Consequently their affections and their friendships themselves are different ; hence the same offices are not performed by each to the other, nor ought they to be required. But when children pay to their 2. parents what is due to those who begat them, and parents to their children what is due to them, the friendship in such cases is lasting and sincere. But in all friendships, where one party is superior, the affection also ought to be proportionate ; as, for example, that the better person should be loved in rt greater degree than he loves, so also the more use- There will fill person, and in like manner in every other case. ^^ equality For when the affection is proportional, then there ^i?^" . Ti V' 1 i. T- ai affection IS 18 m a manner an equality ; which seems to be the propor- propeity of friendship. lionaL The equal does not seem to be the same in justice 3. 216 ARISTOTLE'S [buok vin. as in friendship ; for equality in proportion to merit holds the first place in justice, and equality as tc quantity the second ; but in friendship, that which relates to quantity is first, and that wliich relates to merit is second. This is evident, if there is a great distance between the parties in \irtue, or vice or wealth, or anything else : for they are then no longer friends, and they do not even expect it. 4* This is most evident in the case of the gods ; for they are most superior in all goods : it is also evident in the case of kings ; for they who are veiy infe- rior do not presume to be friends with them ; nor do the worthless presume to be so with the best or wisest men. In the case of such persons as these, there can be no exact definition how fai' they may be friends ; for though we may take away much from one party, still the friendship continues ; but when one is veiy far removed from the other, as from a 5. god, it continues no longer. Hence also a question Whether arises whether friends wish their fiiends the greatest men J^^sh goods, for instance, that they should become gods : alTlroodr ^ ^*^^' *^^^ ^^^y would no longer be their Mends ; and therefore they would not be goods to them : for friends are goods. If, therefore, it has been rightly said, that a friend wishes his friend good for that friend's sake, he ought to continue, relatively to that friend, the same as he was before. He "vvill, therefore, msh liim to have the greatest goods which he can have being a man : though perhaps not eveiy good ; for each wishes goods for himself more than to any one else.^ ^ Great difference of opinion exists amongst commentators as to the way in which this passage ought to be translated ; the following paraphrase will explain that translation which appears to me the only one consistent with the argument, and at the same time grammatical. If a friend wished his friend to become a god, he would be wishing him to be so far removed as that he would cease to be a friend. Consequently, as friends are goods, in wishing such change of circumstances as would deprive him of his friendship, he is really wishing to deprive his friend of a good. Now, if a friend wishes good to his friend for that friend's sake, of course he w^ill not wish their relative position to be altered in such a way as to put an end ta GHK7. viii.] ETHICS. 21/ CHAP. Vlll. That Fnendship seems to consist tn loving more than tn being loved. Most men, from the love of honour, are thought to i. %vish to be loved, rather than to love ; therefore the Most men, generality are fond of flatteiy ; for the flatterer is ['"^'^ *J^^^* an inferior fiiend, or pretends to be so, and to love j^JJ^our rather than to be loved : and being loved seems wish to to bear a close resemblance to being honoured, of be loved which most men are desirous. They do not, how- rather than ever, seem to choose honour for its own sake, but *° °^ ®* accidentally ; for the generality delight in being honoured by those in power, because of hope ; for they think that they shall obtain from them what- ever they want. Thus they delight in honour, as a sign of fiiture favours. But those who are desirous 3. of receiving honour from good men and men who know their worth, are anxious to confirm their own opinion of themselves : thus they dehght in the idea +.hat they are good, trusting to the judgment of those who say so. But they delight in being loved for its own sake ; therefore to be loved might seem to be better than to be honoured, and friendship might fleem eligible for its own sake. But it really seems to consist in loving, rather 4. than being loved. A proof of this is, that mothers -^^^ fnend- delight in loving ; for some give their cliildren to be \^^^ ^^^g nursed, and, knowing that they are their cliildren, in loving, love them, though they do not seek to be loved in than being return, if both cannot be ; but it seems sufficient to ^oved. Mo- them if they see them doing well : and they love their proo^f of childi'en, even if the latter, from ignorance, cannot this. repay to their mother what is due. But siace fiiend- 5. ship consists more in loving, and those who love their "y.^^^® ^"!^* friends are praised, to love seems to be the excel- \l^^^^ ^^ their friendship. He would, therefore, only wish his friend * ' such goods as are consistent witb his friend remaining a aian. 21B ARISTOTLE'S [book vrix- ence of friends. So that the parties between whom this takes place proportionately are lasting li-ieDds, and the friendship of such is lasting. In thi.s manner those who ai'e unequal, may also be the greatest friends ; for they may be equalized. But equality and similarity constitute friendsliip, and particularly the similarity of those who are alike with respect to virtue ; for as they possess stability in themselves, they also possess the same towards each other, and neither ask nor render base sei'iices, but, so to speak, they even prevent it : for it is the characteristic of the good neither to commit faidts themselves, nor to suffer their friends to commit them. Tlie wicked have no stability; for they do no5 continue consistent even with themselves ; but tlicy become friends for a short time, taking deHght in each other's \vickedness. The useful and the pleasant continue friends longer than these ; for they continue as long as they furnish pleasure and projfit to one another. The friendship which is for the sake of the useful Friendship appears generally to be formed out of opposite ele- '""/° ments ; for instance, it arises between a poor man existschiefiy ^^^ ^ ^"^^^ ^^^} ^^ uneducated and a learned man ; between for whatever a needy person wants, being desirous opposites. of that, he gives something else in return. Under this head one might bring the lover and the beloved, the beautiful and the ugly. Hence, also, lovei^ some- times appear ridicidous if they expect to be loved as much as they love : when they are equally suitable objects of love, they may perhaps expect it ; but when they possess no qualification of the kind, it is ridi- 9. culous. But perhaps the opposite never desires its opposite for its o^vn sake, but accidentally ; and the desire is for the mean, for that is a good : for exam- ple, what is dry desires not to become moist, but to arrive at the mean ; so also what is warm, jmd everything else in the same %\'T\y. Let us, however, leave thesa considerations as foreign to our pur- pose. CHAV. ix.j ETHICS. yU CHAP. IX. Fespectmg Political or Social Friendship. Friendship and the just appear, as was said at first, 1. to be conversant with the same things, and between I^i every the same persons ; for in every community there commumty seems to exist some kind of just and some kind of friendship, friendsliip. Thus soldiers and sailors call their com- rades friends, and so likewise those who are asso- ciated in any other way. But as far as they have anytliing in common, so far there is friendsliip ; for so far also there is the just. And the proverb, that the property of friends is common, is correct ; for friendship consists in community : and to brothers and companions all things are common ;^ but to others, certain definite things, to some more, to others less; for some friendships are stronger, and others weaker. There is also a difference in the just; for it is 2. not the same between parents and children as "^^^^.J"^*^^^ between brothers ; nor between companions as be- !!° ^I'^nf^ • • 1 • T/»"i C3SCS T/I16 tween citizens ; and so on m every other inend- game, sliip. Acts of injustice, therefore, are different be- tween each of these, and are aggravated by being committed against gi^eater friends ; for instance, it is more shameful to rob a companion of money than a fellow-citizen, and not to assist a brother than a Ktranger, and to strike one's father than any one else. It is the nature of the just to increase together with friendship, as they are between the same par- ties, and of equal extent. All communities seem 3, lifce pai-ts of the political community; for men unite All com- together for some advantage, and to provide them- munities are selves with some of the things needful for life. Po- P*\[t||!aJ^* litical community seems also originally to have been P° ^ ^'^ * * In the same way the early Christian brotherhood had all things in common. 220 ARISTOTLE'S [book vur. former, and still to continue, for the sake of ad- vantage ; for legislators aim at tHs, and say that what is expedient to the community is just. Now all other communities desire advantage in particular cases ; as, for example, sailors desire that for which they make their voyage, — money, for in- stance, or something of that kind ; soldiers that which belongs to war, — either money, or victory, or the taking of a city ; and in like manner people of the same tribe and borough seek each their own advantage. Some communities seem to have been formed for the sake of pleasure ; such as bacchanalian revels and clubs : for these were formed for the sake of sacrifice and associating together.y All these seem to be included under the social commimity ; for this does not aim at mere present expediency, but at that which influences the whole of life ; hence sacrifices are instituted and honours paid to the gods in such assembUes, and men are themselves furnished with opportunities of pleasant relaxation ; for the ancient sacrifices and general meetings seem to have been held as first-fruits after the gathering in of harvest; for the people had most leisure at that time. All communities, therefore, seem to be parts of the political community ; and similar friendships will accompany such communities. CHAP. X. Of the three forms of Civil Government, and the Deflections from them. 1- There are three forms of civil govamment,* and as \\o\iri u uiany deflections, which are, as it were, corrui^tions ETC, 7 Compare Hor. Ep. II. i. 139. ■ If this chapter is compared with the eighth chapter of the first book of the Rhetoric, it will be found that this subject is treated more scientifically and with greater accuracy in the Ethics than in the Rhetoric. The reason of this evidently is. CHAP. X.] ETHICS. 221- of them. The former are, Monai thy, Aristocracy, >[onarohy. and a third, on the principle of property, which it Aristo- seems appropriate to call a Timocracy ; hut the ^racy. generality are accustomed to apply the term'-' j.>olity" ^^^o^^'^^y* exclusively to this last. Of these, monarchy is the best, and timocracy the worst. The deflection from 2. monarchy is tyranuy ; for both are monarchies : Tyranny, but there is the greatest difference between them ; for the tyi'ant looks to liis own benefit, the king to tliat of his subjects ; for he is not a king who is not independent, and who does not abound in all goods ; but such an one as tliis wants notliing else ; and consequently he would not be considering what is beneficial to liimself, but to his subjects ; for he that does not act so, must be a mere king chosen by lot.^ But tyranny is the opposite to this ; for a tyrant pursues liis own peculiar good. And it is 3. more evident on tliis ground, that it is the worst form of all ; for that is worst, which is opposite to the best. But the transition from kingly power 13 to tyranny ; for tyranny is a corruption of mo- narchy, and a bad king becomes a tyrant. The transition from aristocracy is to oligarchy, 4. through the wickedness of those in power, who dis- Oligarchy, tnbute the offices of the state without reference to merit, give all or most good things to themselves, and the offices of state constantly to the same people, setting the highest value upon wealth : conse- quently a few only are in power, and the bad instead of the best. The transition from timocracy is to 5. democracy ; for they border upon one another, since Democracy. a timocracy naturally inchnes to be in the hands of that a discussion on the different forms of government forme an essential part of the former treatise ; whereas it only be- longs accidentally to the latter. It is only necessary for the orator to know the nature and principles of government as they are found practically to exist. The Ethical student, on the contrary, should know what they ought to be in theory as well as what they really are in their practical developments. These considerations will account for the different modes of treatment which Aristotle has adop'^ed in his two treatises. "* That is, a king who owes his tdgnity to his good fortune, ind not to any merits of his own. 222 ARISTOTLE'S [boor viit. the multitude; and all who are in the same class as to property are equal. But democracy is the iea«t vicious, for its constitutional principles are but slightly changed. Such, then, are the principal changes in forms of government ; for thus they change the least and in the most natural manner. 6. One may find resemblances, and as it were, ex- Analogy amples of these, even in private families ; for the vernment'*' ^'^^^^i^n of a father to hia sons wears the form of in a state, monarchy : for the father takes care of the chil- and govern- drcn. Hence, also, Homer calls Jupiter father j^'^ ment in a foi« the meaning of a kingdom is a paternal govern- a"™i J' ment. But in Persia the authority of a father is tyrannical , for they use their sons like slaves. 7. The authority of a master over his slaves is also tjTannical ; for in that the benefit of the master is considted. Tliis, therefore, appears right, but that of the Persians is wrong ; for the power of those who are in different circumstances ought to be different. The relation of a man to his wife seems to be aristocratical ; for the husband go- verns because it is his due, and in those tilings which a husband ought ; and whatever is suitable for the ^vife he gives up to her. When the husband lords it over eveiything, it changes into an oli- garchy ; for he does this beyond what is his right, and not only so far forth as he is superior But sometimes women, when they are heiresses, govern. Thus they govern not according to merit, but because of wealth and influence, as in oligarchies. 8. The relation wliich subsists between brothers is like Timocracy, a timocracy ; for they are equal ; except so far as r?t lers. ^^^^^ differ in age. Therefore, if there is a great disparity in their ages, the friendsliip is no longer Democracy, Hke that of brothei's. A democracy takes place * he*"^tl^' r ^^^^%' ^^ families where there is no master (for ia no'inas. ^^^^i'^- ^^^ ^1*^ equal) ; and wherever the ruler i^• tw. weak, and each member acts as he likes. ^^ TlaTiip avcpuii' t(. ^iCjv re, — " Father of gods and men " — 11 om. passim. CHAr XI.] KTJilCS. 22a CHAP. XL Of the friendship ichich exists under each form of Government. In each of these forms of government there is 1. e\-idently a friendship, coextensive wich "the just" J"^^'"^^ in each.'^'^ Friendship between a Idiig and his sub- jro\"rnmen: jects consists in conferring superior benefits ; for there is a he does good to his subjects, if he is good and takes friendship, care of them, that they may be well off, as a shep- herd takes care of liis sheep ',^^ whence also Homer calls Agamemnon " the shepherd of the people." Such also is paternal friendship ; but it exceeds the former in the gi-eatness of the benefits which it confers ; for the father is the cause of the son's existence, which is esteemed the greatest thing, and also of food and of education. The same tilings 2 are also ascribed to ancestors ; for a father is by nature the governor of his sons, and ancestors of their descendants, and a king of his subjects. These friendships imply superiority; whence also parents receive honour ; therefore also the just is not the same between the two parties, but according to proportion ; for thus also must the friendship be. Between husband and ^vife there is the same ^• friendship as in an aristocracy ; for their relation is according to merit, and the greater is given to the better person, and to each tliat which is suitable. The just also subsists between them in the same way. The friendshi]3 of brothers is like the friend- tship of companions ; for they are equal and of the same age ; and such persons generally have the " Wherever the expression " the just" occurs, it must be remembered that its signification is • ' the abstract principle of justice." •''* The Christian student need not be reminded how often this metaphor is made use of in Holy Scripture to describe the •elation in which ouv heavenly King stands to his kingdom tha Chiirca. 224 AiaSTOTLE'S [bo »: vifL ^ same feelings and the same moral character. TIi« li-iendship of a timocracy is therefore like this , for citizens think themselves equal and equiLabie ; consequently, the government is held by all in 5. turn, and equally. The friendsliip also in a timo- th'ere^fno ^ cracy is of the same kind. But in the deflections, friendship. ^ there is but little of " the just," so also there is but little friendship, and least of all in the worst. For in a tyranny there is no friendship, or very little ; for between those parties, where the niler and the ruled have nothing in common, there is rn> ^' finendship; for there is no principle of justice. Tin* case, in fact, is the same as between a workman and his tool, the soul and the body, a master and his slave ; for all these are benefited by the users. But there is no friendship nor justice towards inani- mate things, neither is there towards a horse or an ox, nor towards a slave, so far forth as he is a slave ; for there is nothing in common ; since a slave is an animated tool, and a tool is an inanimate slave. 7. So far forth, therefore, as he is a slave, there is no friendship towards him, but only so far forth as he is a man ; for it is thought that there is some sort of justice between every man, and every one who is able to participate in a law and a con- tract ; and therefore that there is some sort of In demo- friendship so far forth as he is a man. Hence friend- «ftfJe':)tion in the case of thai CHAP. XI..] ETHICS. 224 between relations and of tliat between ccanpanions. The friendships between citizens and fellow-tribes- men, and fellow-sailors, and such like, more resemble those which depend upon community ; for they .seem as it were to exist in accordance with some agreement. Amongst these also one might classify the friendship of hospitality. That also between relations seems to have many forms, and to de})end entirely upon the paternal friendship. Parents love 2. their children as being a part of themselves ; cliil- The love c*" BO. For most men vnah to receive benefits, and ovoid conferring them, as improfitable. I/»t b» much thoD tniffioo oa tht'se mo Iters. • t33 BOOK IX CHAP. I. Of what kind are the praervaiives of Friendship In all cases of dissimilar'^ friendsliip, proportion 1. equalises and preserves the friendship, as has been ^i^*«* ^ stated ; for example, in the political friendships, the "^^^pj^' '** shoemaker receives a return for his shoes according served by to their value, and the weaver, and every one else. draXoyta. In these instances a common measure is provided, namely, money ; eveiything therefore is referred to tliis, and is measured by it. In the friendship of 2. love, the lover sometimes complaints, that although Complainta he loves exceedingly, he is not loved in return, '"^y ^^"^^ when it may happen that he possesses nothing causes- whicli can be the object of love : and frequently the person loved complains, that the other having promised everything at first, now performs nothing. Such cases as this occur, when the lover loves the beloved object for pleasure's sake, and the latter loves the foi-mer for the sake of the useful, and these qualifications do not exist in both. For as 3. the friendship was formed on these motives, a sepa- ration takes place, as soon a,s ever they do not obtain that for which they loved ; for it was not the per- sons that they loved, but something belonging to them, which is not permanent ; and therefore the friendships are not permanent. But a friendsliip founded upon moral character, as it is felt for its own sake, continues, as has been stated. Diflerences also arise, when the parties receive 4. fiome other thing than that of ^^'hich they were de- • In the Greek avonoal'tai, dissimilar in species, that is, when two parties become friends, each from a different motive. 2U ARISTOTLE'S [book ix, «rous ; for it is the same as getting nothing, when they do not get what they desired. The case is like that of him who made promises to the harper, and the better he performed the more he promised ; and when in the morning he claimed the performance of these promises, he said he had repaid him pleasure for pleasure.** Now if each party had wished this, it would have been sufficient ; but if the one wishes entertainment, the other gain, and the one received what he wished, the other not,* the exchange cannot be fair. For each fixes hia mind on that which he happens to want, and for 5. the sake of that will give what he does give. But \V ho is to -^^jjQ ig ^Q £jj. ^jjg value? the person who first eva ue. ^^^^ ^ ^j. j^^ ^j^^ ^^^^ receives ? for he who gives, seems to leave it to the other to fix the value : which they say is what Protagoras did ; for when he gave any lessons, he ordered the learner to fix how much he thought the knowledge was worth, and so much he received. In such transactions, some pei-sons approve of the principle, " Let a friend be content with a promised payment." — Hes. 6. Op. et Di. V. 368. But those who receive the money beforehand, and then perform none of their promises, because they were so extravagant, are with justice complained of ; for they do not fulfil their agi-eements. And this, perhaps, the So- phists are obliged to do, because no one would give a piece of siher for what they know. These, therefore, because they do not perform that for which they received pay, are justly complained of. 7. Whenever there is no agreement made about the service performed, as has been stated, those wlio confer a favour freely for the sake of the per- sons themselves on whom they confer it, cannot com- •* The story to which Aristotle refers is thus related by Plutarch. Dionysius, the tyrant, hearing a famous harper, promised him a talent. The next day, when the harper de- manded the performance of his promise, he replied, "Yesterday, during the time that I was delighted with your su»ging, I uelighted you with hopes, so that you have receive? youi reward,— delight for delight." CHAP. I.] ETHICS. ^^ plain ; for friendsliip which is fomided on ^ ii-tue is of this kind. The return must be made accordii g When no to the deliberate intention ; for it is this which agreement characterizes a friend and virtue. It seems also that Jhe^return those who have intercoui'se with one another in must be philosophy must act thus ; for the value of it is not kuto. measured by money, and no equivalent price can be '^poaiptc * paid. But perhaps, as in the case of our duty to the gods and our parents, that which is in our power is sufficient. Where the act of giving is not of this kind, 8. but for the sake of something, perhaps it is best that a return should be made, which seems to both parties to be proportionate. If this cannot bo, it would seem not only necessary that he who tii'st receives should settle it, but also just : for in proportion to the benefit which one received, or to the cost at which he would have purchased the pleasure, will be the equivalent which the other ought to receive in return ; for in things bought and sold this seems to be done : and in some places there are laws forbidding suits upon voluntary con- tracts ; as ?f it was right, when we have tinisted any one, to settle "^vith him, as we dealt Avith him ori- ginally : for they think that it is more just for liim to fix the value who was trusted, than for him to do so who ti-usted liim ; for men do not in general put the same value upon things which they have received, as they did when they were wishing to receive them ; for what belongs to us, and what we give away, seems to each of us to be very valuable. But, nevertheless, the return is How the made with reference to such a standard of value as receiver U the receiver would fix : though, perhaps, he ought *°,^* *^ not to value it at so much as it seems worth when he has got it, but according ' > what l:e valv^^i :jt at before he f» t it. 236 ARISTOTLE'S fiiooK ix. CHAP. II. Of lasts of Relative Duties. 1. Such questions as the following cause a difficulty j« Of the for instance, whether we ought to perform services relative ^f every kind to our father, and obe}- liim in every- thing? or whether, when sick, we should obey a l"»hysician, and choose a general on account of his military skill 1 In the same manner must we serve a friend rather than a good man ? and must we rather repay a favour to a benefactor than give to a companion, supposing that we cannot do both ? 2. To determine all these points accurately is not easy ; for they contain many and various differences as to their being gi-eat or small, honourable or necessary. Wc must But that we are not to bestow everything upon the be just be- g-^me person needs no proof : and, generally, we must cTnerous!'^^ rather requite kindnesses, than give to compa- nions, in the same manner as we ought rather to pay a debt to a creditor, than give to a companion. 5. But perhaps tliis is not always the case : for in- stance, must a person who has been ransomed from robbers do the same in return to him who ransomed iiim, whoever he may be 1 or should he repay him though he has not been taken prisoner, but demands payment as a debt ? or should he ransom his father rather than the other 1 for it would be thought that he ought to lansom his father ev^n in preference to liimself. i. As we stated, therefore, in genenil a debt should Ije repaid : but if a gift sui-j^asses a debt in being honourable, or necessaiy, we should defer to this consideration ; for sometimes the making a return for a favour previously conferred is not even equal ; «= In tbis chapter, says Michelet, we have the commence- ment of those casuistical ethics, to which, first the Stoics, afterwards the Jesuits, and lastly the German philosophers^ Kant and Fichte, were so strongly attached. CHAr. II.] ETHICS. «S7 whea, for instance, the otluer conferred it^ knowing that tlie person was good : but the latter has to repay it to one whom he thinks wicked. For some- 5. times a man must not lend in return to him who lent to him ; for the latter, thinking that he should be repaid, lent to him being a good man : but he cannot hope to be repaid by a wicked man. If, then, the circumstances are really such as I have stated, the claim is not equal ; or if they are not so really, but the parties think that they are, it would not be thought that they acted strangely. Therefore, as we have frequently stated, assei-tions respecting feelings and actions admit of exact definition only in proportion to the object-matter. Now that we must not perform tl^^s same senice 6. to everybody, nay, even not to our father, in . the same manner that we do not sacrifice every- thing to Jupiter, is obvious. But since different We mrn-l sei-^ices are due to parents, and brothers, and com- render tc panions, and benefactors, we must give to each their ^ }'^^-^ own, and that which is suitable to them. In fact, men seem to act in this way ; for they invite rela- tions to marriages, since the family to which they belong is common to them, and consequently acts which have to do with the family : and, for the same reason, they think that it is more suitable for relations than other persons to meet at funerals. And it would seem that w^e ought to assist our 7^ parents, in preference to all other persons, in sup- porting them ; being, as it were, their debtors ; and that it is more honourable to assist the authors of our existence in 'that respect than ourselves. We should also give honour to our parents, as to the gods ; but not evety kind of honour ; for we do not give the same to father and mother : nor, again, " Dispares enim mores disparia studia sequuntur, quorum dissimiiitudo dissociat amicitias ; nee ob ullam aliam causam boni Improbis, improbi bonis amici esse non possunt, nisi quod tanta est inter eos, quanta maxima potest esse, morum studio- rumque distantia. — Cic. Lsel. xx. » Primum danda opera est, nequa amicorum dissidia fiant ; sin tale aliquid evenerit, ut extinctae potius amici tiae quam op- pressse esse videantur. — Cic. Leel. xxi. ' Compare the Christian rule: — "If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him ; and if he repent, forgive him. And if he trespass against thee seven times in a day, and seven times in a day turn again to thee, saying, I repent; thou shalt forgive him." — St. Luke, xvii. 3, 4. " Moreover, if thy brother shah trespass against thee, go and tell him his fiiult between thee and him alone ; if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother. But if he will not hear thee, then take with thee one or two more, that in the mouth of two oi three witnesses every word may be established. And if he shall neglect to hear them, tell it unto the church : but if he neglect to hear the church. Jet him be unto thee as an heathen man and a publican." — St. Matt, xviii. 15 — 17. 240 ARISTOTLE'S [book tx mains the same, but the other improves. becomes better, and widely different in \drtue, must the latter still consider the former as liis friend? or is that not possible 1 The case is plainest when the difference becomes very great, as in friendships con- tracted from childhood ; for if one continues a child in intellect, and the other becomes a man of the liighest character, how can they be friends, when they no longer take pleasure in the same things, nor sympathize in joy and grief together ? for these feel- ings will not exist in them towards each other. But without these it has been stated that they could not be friends ; for it is impossible that they can live together : and we have treated of all this already. Must he, then, feel no otherwise towards him than if he had never been his friend 1 or ought he to remember their past intimacy, and just as we think that a man should confer favours on friends rather than on strangers, ought he in like manner to be- .= Consequently, from n second ^j^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ having all these feelings towards ^ * himself, and feeling towards his friend as he does towards himself (for liis friend is another self), friendship also is thought to consist in some one ot these feelings, and they are thought to be friends in whom they reside. 6. But as to the question whether there is or is not friendship towards one's self, let it be dismissed for the present. But friendship may be thought to exist in this case, inasmuch as it is one in which there are two or more of the above-mentioned qua- lifications; and because excess of friendship seems 7. to resemble that of a man towards himseLf. The feelings spoken of, however, plainly exist in manv, although they are bad men. Do they, then, partake of them so far as they are pleasing to themselves, and suppose themselves to be good 1 for assuredly they do not exist, nor even appear to exist, in any True self- who are utterly bad and impious: indeed, they loyecanuot scarcely exist in the bad at all ; for the bad are at exist in bad variance Avith themselves ; and they desire one thing, but wish for another, as for example, the inconti- nent j for instead of what seems to them to be good, 9. they choose the pleasant, which is hurtful. Others, again, from cowardice and indolence, abstain from doing what they think best for themselves. As for those who have committed many atrocious crimes through depravity, they hate and fly from life, and destroy themselves. The vicious, also, seek for pereons with whom they may pass their time, and fly from themselves : for they caU to mind many unpleasant subjects, and exi)ect others of the same kind when they are by themselves; but when they are vrith others, they '' Chase compares to this passage, " God is not a man, that he should lie ; neither the sou of man, that he should repent." — Numbers, xxiii. 19. Compare also, " Sapientis est pro- prium, nihil quod poenitere possit facere." — Cic. Tusc. y- 28. CHAP. V.J ETHICS. af? forget them ; and since they possess no amiable qua- lities, they have no friendly feeling towards them- selves. Therefore, such men do not sympathize ^* with themselves in joy or sorrow ; for their soul is divided, as it were, by faction, and one part from depi-avity feels pain, because it abstains from some- thing, while the other part feels pleasure ; and one draws him this way, another that, just as if they were dragging him asunder. But though it is im- possible to feel pain and pleasure at the same time, yet after a little time he feels pain at having been pleased, and wishes that these things had not been pleasant to him ; for bad men are full of repent- ance. It is plain, then, -that the bad man has no friendly disposition even to himself, because he has in him nothing amiable. If, then, such a condition as this is excessively wretched, he should anxiously flee from wickedness, and strive to be good ; for by this means a man may have friendly feelings towards himself, and become a friend of another. CHAP. Y. On Good-will. Good-will resembles friendship, and yet it is not 1. friendship ; for good-will is felt towards those whom ^vvoia dif we do not know, and without their being aware of *^^"/'"^"\ it ; but friendship is not : all this has been said Jj\L" J*" before. Nor yet is it affection ; for good- will has no intensity, nor desire : but both of these accom- pany affection. Affection too is formed by intimacy ; but good- will may be sudden ; as comes to pass in the case of antagonists ; for we wish them well, and partake in their wishes, but we would not assist them at all ; for, as we have stated, we feel good- will suddenly, and our love is superficial. It seems, 2. then, to be the beginning of friendship : in the same manner as the pleasure derived from sig^H is tho 244 ARISJTOTLE'S [book i». ))eginmng of love : for no 3ne feels love, unlesa he is first pleased with personal appearance : but he that takes pleasure in the personal appearance la not necessarily in love, except he longs for the object when absent, and desires its presence. In ;{. the same manner, then, it is impossible to be friends without good-will. But those who have it are not necessarily friends ; for they only wish good to those- for whom they have good-will ; but they would not assist them at all, nor take any trouble shoui them. 4. So that one might call it, metaphorically, friendsliip Goodvit in a state of inactivity ; and say, that when it has defined. continued some time, and arrived at familiarity, it becomes friendship, but not that for the sake of the useful or the agreeable : for good-will is not pro- duced by those motives. For he who has received a benefit, returns good-will for what he has received, therein acting justly : but he who wishes any one to be prosperous, having some hope of profiting b-y liis means, appears to be well-disposed, not to that other person, but rather to himself; in the same manner as he is not a friend, if he pays attention f). to him for the sake of soiie advantage. Upon the whole, good-will arises on account of virtue, or some goodness, when any one is seen to be honourable, or manly, or something of that kind : as we hivve stated is the case with antagonists. CHAP. VI. On Unanimity. 1, Unanimity also seems to be connected with friend- Difference ship ; hence it is not tba same as unity of opinion ; between ^^^ ^j^^^ j^^y. exist between persons who are unac- and^'luo . q 'tainted with each other. Neither do we say, that ioi'ia, they who think the same upon any subject whatever are luianimous ; for instance, those who think the CiiAP. VI.] ETHICS. M6 same about the hf^venly bodies ; for unanimity upon riiese matters does not belong to friendship. But we say, that states have unanimity, when they think the same upon questions of expediency, and deliberately make the same choice, and execute what has been determined in common. Consequently, men have mianimity upon practical 2« matters ; and amongst these, upon those which are important, and which are of mutual or common interest ; for instance, states are unanimous when all agree that the magistrates should be elected, or that alliance should be made with Sparta, or that Pittacus should be Archon, when he wished it also himself^ But when each party wishes him- 3, ^elf to be in power, as the two brothers in the Phoenissae, they quarrel ; for this is not unanimity, that each party should conceive the same idea, whatever it may be, but that their conceptions should fix upon the same object: for instance, when both the people and the better part agree for an Aiistocracy ; for thus all obtain what they desire. Unanimity then is plainly political friendship, as 4. indeed it is said to be j for it is upon matters of 'Otiovoia expediency, and those which have a reference to ^-endshipi life. But such unanimity exists between the good ; for these are of one mind both with themselves and each other, being engaged, as we may say, upon the ;same subjects; for the counsels of such men as ;these continue firm, and do not ebb and flow, like the Euripus :™ and they wish what is just and expe- vdient ; and this also they desire in common. But it 5. ' 1 Pittacus, with the unanimous consent of the republic and Ills own also (for this is requisite to constitute perfect unani- mity), was intrusted with the government for ten years : after •which, although the state wished him to continue in office, he refused. — Giph. °> Compare Cicero pro Murrena, xvii. : — " Quod fretum, quem Euripum tot motus, tantas, tam varias habere putatis agitationes fluctuum, quantas perturbationes et quantos sestus habet ratio comitiorum." — Michelet. Brewer also quotes here, Isaiah, Ivii. 20 : ■ * The wicked are like the troubled sea, .when it cannot rest." i4b ARISTOTLE'S [book ix. is impossible for bad men to have unanimity, except to a slight extent ; as it is impossible for them to be friends, since they are desirous of more than their share in what is profitable, but in labours and public services they take less. But when each party wishes the same things for himself, he searches minutely into the qualifications of his neighbour, and hinders him, and as they are not watchful foi the public interest, it is saciificed. The result, therefore, is that they quarrel, using force to one another, and not being willing themselves to do their duty. CHAP. VII. l^Aai the Love of Benefactors is stronger than that of thoie benefited. 1- Benefa-CTORS are thought to love those whom they have benefited, more than they who have received favours love those who have conferred them ; and 2. as though this were contrary to what we might Beneficence expect, it is made a subject of inquiry. Now, the "^^.^^ » opinion of the generality is, that the one party are debtorand ^^^^^^^j ^^^ *^^® other creditors ; consequently, in creditor. ^^^ same manner as in the case of debts, the debtors wish their creditors not to live, but those who have lent are careful for the health of their debtors ; so also they think that those who have conferred favours, wish the receivers of them to live, as though in that case they would receive them back again, while the other party does not care about repaying them. 3. Now, Epicharmus perhaps would say that they hold this language, because they look to the bad aide of human nature : yet still it seems like human nature ; for the generality are forgetfid, and are more desirous of receiving than conferring benefits. But the real reason it would appear is more natural, and the case does not resemble that of lenders ; for CHAP. VII.] ETHICS. 247 they have no fondness towards the other party, but only a wish for theii* preservation, for the sake of receiving a return. Those who have conferred favours, are fond of 4. and love those who have received them, even if they Why bene- n(3ither are, nor are likely to be, useful to them : factors lovt which also is the case \>dth workmen ; for every one ^^^^^ ^^lo loves his own work, more than he could be loved receive, by the work, were it to become animated. This perhaps is most the case with poets ; for they love their own poems above measure, having a parental affection for them. Such then seems to be the case 5. of benefactors ; for he who has received a kindness is a work of theirs; consequently they love him more than the work loves the producer of it. The reason of this is, that existence is an object of choice and love to all ; but we exist by energy ; for we exist by living and acting. He then who has produced a work, in a certain sense exists by the energy ; hence he loves the work, because he loves his own existence. But this is natural ; for the work shows by energy that which existed only in power. At the same time, also, the residt of the action is t>, honoui-able to the benefactor, so that he takes plea- sure in the person in whom that exists : but to the receiver there is nothing honourable in relation to- his benefactor ; but if there is anything, it is .id- vantage : and this is less agreeable, and less an object of love. In the case of a present act, the energy is pleasant ; in that of a future act, the- hope ; in that of a past act, the memory : but the pleasure resulting ft*om the energy is the greatest, and most an object of love. To the benefactor, 7, therefore, the work continues ; for that which is honourable, is permanent : but as regards the re- ceiver, the useful soon passes away. The recollection also of honourable things is pleasant ; but of useful things, not generally so, or in a less degree. The expectation, however, of advantajge seems to be tlie sonti-ary of this. 248 ARISTOTLE'S [book ix. 8. The feeling of aflfection also resembles produc- tion ; but the being loved is like something passive ; thosp, therefore, who are superior in the active conferring of a kindness, love, and all the feelings of friendship accompany. Again, all feel greater love for what they have acquired with labour; as those who have earned their money, love it more than those who have inherited it. Kow, to receive favours seems to be without labour ; but to confer them is laborious. For this reason also mothers are more fond of their cliildi-en than fathers are ; :^r the bringing them forth is more painful, and they feel more convinced that they are their own." The same also would seem peculiarly to belong to benefactors. CHAP. yiii. Of Self. love.'' a man 1. It admits of a question whether a man should Whether Jqvc himself best, or another : for we are apt to " Thus Euripides, — " The pangs of labour are a powerful bond, And every mother dotes upon her child." And, again, — " The mother loves her child more than the father ; For she knows it is hers, he only thinks so." o The preface to Bishop Butler's Sermons, as well as the first and eleventh sermons, furnish a valuable commentary on the place which a reasonable self-love occupies amongst m.oral duties, its relation to benevolence or the love of others, and the difference between it and selfishness, which are often con- fused one with the other. " Self-love," says Bishop Butler, " in its due degree, is as just and morally good, as any affection whatever." " Benevolence is so perfectly coincident with it, that tlie greatest satisfaction to ourselves depends upon our having benevolence in a due degree : and self-love is one chief security of our right behaviour towards society," How consistent is this view with HIS doctrines, who has made re- gard to ourselves the standard by which to measure our love toothers, and has said, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." CHAP. viiT.l ETHICS. 249 censiire those wlio love themselves best . and as if should 1 ova it were disgraceful, we call tliem selfish. The bad himself man also seems to do everything for his own sake, and the more so the more wicked he is. They therefore complain of liim, as doing notliing without ref(3rence to himself : but the good man acts "from. Distinction honourable motives, and the better he is, the more between he acts from honourable motives, and for his friend's P^op^*" ^"^ sake j and he passes over liis own interest. But s^if.^ove^ facts are at variance Avith these remarks, and that g not unreasonably : for it is a common saying, that *" ii man should love his greatest frierd best. Now he is the best friend, who wishes another good for that person's sake, even if nobody knows it ; but tiiis and every other feeling wliich enters into the definition of a friend, exists most of all in a man with regard to himself ; for we have stated, that from himself proceed all the feelings of friendship wliich he has for others. All the 3. proverbs agree in tliis : such as " one soul : " and ^' the property of friends is common : " and " friend- ship is equality : " and " the knee is nearer than the shin : " for all these feelings exist mostly with reference to a man's self; for he is the best friend to himself; and therefore he must love himself best. But the question is reasonably asked, which of 4. these two must we folluw, since both seem worthy of credit 1 Perha})s, then, we should divide and dis- tinguish such conclusions as these, and show how far, and in what respect ( ach is true. If, then, we can understand in what, sense each uses the word self-love, perhaps the point would be plain. Those, 5, therefore, who use it as a reproach, call those men The self- self-lovers, who give to themselves the greater share of [°^® °^ ^^^ money, or honour, or bodily pleasures ; for the gene- ^ °^*°* rahty of men are grasping after these, and extremely anxious about them, as if they were the best tilings ; whence, also, they are objects of con- tentioD. Those, therefore, who are covetous ot these things, gratify their desires, and, in short, their 250 ARISTOTLE'S [book ix. «. passions, and the irrational part of the soul. But the generality are of this kind : whence, also, the appellation has arisen, from the generality, which are bad. Consequently reproach is justly cast upon those who are selfish in this sense. But that the generality are accustomed to call those self-lovei*s, who give such things as these to tliemselves, is The self- qnite plain. For if any one is constantly anxious love of a that he iiimself more than any other person should good man ^q -vvhat is just, or temperate, or anything else in and^Us^ ' accordance with virtue, and in short is always for motives. gaining something honourable for himself, no one would call such a man a self-lover, nor blame him. 7. And yet such a character as this would seem to Why the be more than any other a self-lover ; for he gives ?°°^/"^" to himself what is most honourable, and the have self- greatest goods, and gratifies the authoritative part ove. of himself, and obeys it in everything. And as that part, which has most authority, seems especially to constitute the state, and every other system, so it constitutes a man ; and therefore he who loves this part and gratifies it, is especially a self-lover. 8. So also a man is called continent or incontinent, according as the intellect has authority or not, as ii this constituted each individual. And men think that what they do \vith reason, they do themselves, and voluntarily, more than any other things. That this, therefore, especially constitutes the individual, is quite plain, and that the good man especially loves this. Therefore he must be especially a self-lover, after a different manner from the person who is reproached for it, and differing in as great a degree, as Hving in obedience to reason differs from living in obedience to passion, and as desiring the honourable differs from desiring what seems to be advantageous. 9. Now, all approve of and praise those who are Why the particularly earnest about performing honourable ^°°ht"t*'^ actions : and if all contended for what is honour- have self- ^^^^J ^^^ strove to perform the most honourable love. acts, there woulu be to every one generally what id CHAP, viii ] ETHICS. 251 right and proper, and to each individually the greatest goods ; at least if virtue is such as we have described it. So that the good man must neces- 10- saiily be a self-lover ; for he will be delighted in performing honourable acts himself, and will benefit others. But the wicked man ought to be so : for he injures both himself and his neighbours, by fol- lowing evil passions. To the wicked man, therefore, what he ought to do, and what he does, are at variance ; but the good man does what he ought to do ; for all intellect chooses what is best for itself; and the good man obeys liis intellect. It is true I'- also of the good man, that he performs many acts for his friends and his country, nay, even if it is his duty to die for them : for he will give up money and honoui-s, and, in short, all the good things which others contend for, if he can secure to himself that wliich is honourable. For he would prefer being pleased for a shoi-t time exceedingly, than for a long time slightly ; and to live one year honourably, than many years in the ordinary manner ; and to perform one honourable and great act, rather than many small ones. Those who die for their coun- 13. try, this perhaps actually befalls : they choose something highly honourable for themselves, and they would give up money on condition that their friends should receive more of it : for the friend receives the money, and he himself the honour ; so he gives the greater good to liimself. The same rule holds good ^vith respect to honour- able distinctions and offices ; for he gives up all these to his friend ; since this is honourable to himself and praiseworthy. With reason, then, he is thought to be a good man, for choosing what is honourable in preference to everything else. It is possible, also, that he may give up the perform- ance of these actions to liis friend, and that it may be more honourable for him to be the cause of a friend's doing a thing, than to do it himself. In all 15. praiseworthy things, therefore, the good man seems to give himself the greater share of what is honour- 252 ARISTOTLE'S [book ix. able. In tliis sense, therefore, one ouglit to love one's sell', as has been stated ; but in the way that the generality do, one ought not. CHAP. IX. That even the Hajipy Man will need good friends. -. But a question also arises about the happy man^ ■whether he will need friends or no ; for it is com- monly said that those who are prosperous and inde- pendent, do not need friends, since they have all goods already, and therefore that, being indepen- Why the dent, they requii-e nothing more ; but that a friend, happy mjiu being another self, provides what a man is unable needs ^q provide of himself Hence comes the saying, — When fortune gives us good, what need of friends ? 2. And yet it seems an absiu-dity to attribute all goods to the happy man, and yet not to give him friends, which are thought to be the greatest of all external goods. And it it is more the pai-t of a friend to confer than to receive favours, and to do good is characteristic of a good man and of virtue, and it is more honourable to benefit friends than strangers, the good man AviU want some persons to be bene- 3. fited. Hence it has also been asked, whether there is a greater need of friends in adversity or pros- perity : as in adversity we want persons to benefit us, so in prosperity we want persons whom we 4 may benefit. And it is perhaps absurd to make the happy man a solitary being; for no one would choose to possess all goods by himself; since man is a social being, and formed by nature to associate : this, therefore, is the case with the happy man ; for he possesses whatever is by nature a good. But it is evident that it is better to pasa oui- time with friends and good men, than with sti-angers and anybody indiscriminately. The happy Iliac, therefore, wants friends. CHAP. IX. ETHICS. 2c3 "Wliat, tbBn, do the first-mentioned people say, 3. and how far do they speak truth ] is it not that The Imi^pt the generahty consider those only to be friends JJJj^t\eed* who are nseful 1 The happy man Avill have no useful need of such friends as these, since he is in posses- friends, sion of all goods ; nor, consequently, of those who are friends for the sake of the pleasant, or only in a small degree ; for his life being pleasant, does not require any adventitious pleasui'e. But since he Nor plea- does not require such friend.^ a^ these, he has been sant, thought not to require friends at all. This per- 6. haps is not true ; for it was stated at the begin- ning that happiness is a kind of energy : and an energy is evidently produced, not merely possessed, like property. And if happiness consists in living butvirtuom and energizing, and the energy of the good man is friends, good and pleasant in itself, as was stated at the beginning ; and if that which peculiarly belongs to us is of the number of pleasant things, and we can contemplate others better than we can ourselves, and their actions better than our own, then the actions of good men, when they are their fiiends, are pleasant to the good ; for both possess what is naturally Why so» pleasant ; and consequently the happy man will want such friends as these, if he deliberately prefers to contemplate virtuous actions, and those which are peculiarly his own. And the actions of the 7 good man are such, when he is his friend. But it is thought that the happy man ought to live plea- santly. Now, to a soHtary person life is burthen - some : for it is not easy to energize constantly by one's self, but with and in relation to others it is easy. The energy, therefore, will be more conti- nuous when it is pleasant in itself, which ought to be the case with the happy man ; for the good man, so far forth as he is good, takes delight in actions according to ".irtue, and feels pain at those wldch are according to vice : just as the musician is pleased with beautiful melodies, but feels ]:»aiQ lit bad ones. And there may be a kind o:^' p:i"ac- 254 ARISTOTLE'S [book ix. tice of viitiie from living with good men, a? Theognis says, p 8. If we examine the question more physiologically, The ques- it appears probable that the good friend is by dered^'h ^' ^^*^® ^^ object of choice to the good man ; for it BiologicaHy. ^^^^ ^Gen stated, that what is good by nature, is m itself good and pleasant to the good man. But life is defined to consist, in animals, in the faculty of sensation, and in men, of sensation and intelli- gence ;^ and the feculty is referred to the energj^ 9. and properly consists in the energy. Life, then, seems to be properly the exercise of sensation or intellect ; and life is one of the things which are good and pleasant absolutely ; for it is something definite ; and that which is definite partakes of the nature of the good ;^ and that which is a good by nature, is a good also to the good man : and therefore it seems to be pleasant to aU. 10. But we must not take a depraved and corrupt life, nor one passed in son-ow ; for such a life as this is indefinite, just as the circumstances belong- ing to it are ; which will be more evident in what is to follow upon the subject of pain. But if Hfe Conscious- itself is a good, it is also pleasant ; and this seems teuce^plea-" ^^^^Y *^ ^® *^® ^ase from all desiring it, and par- jjjnt ticularly the good and happy : for to them life is 11. most eligible, and their life is most happy. Now, he f The verses of Theognis are as follows : — •* With these eat and drink, with these Sit, and please those whose power is great. For from the good thou shait learn good ; but if with the wicked Thou minglest, thou wilt lose the intellect thou hast." t The cvvdntig (faculties or capacities) of the whole animal and vegetable creation are ^pexTtKJj, aladTjriKt), opsKTiKfj^ Kivj]TiKri, 3iavoT]TiKrj. Of these the first alone is possessed by vegetables. The first four by brute animals. The whole by man. ' Aristotle is here referring to the Pythagorean theory aa set forth in their co-ordinate catalogue of goods (see Book I.), in which the definite is classed amongst goods, the indefiaitfl CHAP. IX.] ETHICS. K5 tliat sees, perceives tliat lie sees ; and he that heai?, rhat he hears ; and he that walks, that he walks ; .aid in every other case, in the same manner, there is gome faculty which perceives that we are energizing j BO that we perceive that we are perceiving, and understand that we are understanding. But this is the same as saying that we perceive or understand that we exist ; for existence was defined to be per- ceiving, or understanding. Now, to perceive that one 12 is alive, is of the number of those things which are pleasant in themselves : for life is a good by nature : and to perceive the good wliich is inherent in one's self is pleasant. But life is eligible, and particu- larly to the good, because existence is to them good and pleasant ; for by the consciousness of that which is absolutely a good, they are pleased. Now, the good man has the same relation to his 13, fiiend as he has to himself ; for a friend is another self ; in the same manner, therefore, as to exist one's self is eligible to every one, so also is it for one's friend to exist, or nearly so. But existence was said to be eligible on account of the perception of that which is a good : and such a perception is pleasant in itself We ought, therefore, to be conscious of the 14. existence of our friend ; and this would result from We ought, associating with him, and sharing his words and J^^^^ ^^^'_ thoughts ; for this would seem to be the meaning gcious of of the word society, when applied to men, and not, our friend 'e as in the case of cattle, the merely feeding in the existence, same place. ^ If, then, existence is in itself eligible • The philosophy of Aristotle is the exact opposite of any- thing approaching to asceticism. The relation subsisting be- tween a man and his friend is the same as that between him and another self. He is to love his friend as himself. The enjoyments of friendship are derived from as clear a conscious- ness of our friend's existence as we have of our own. The nourishment and support of friendship are intercourse, asso- ciation, communion. Carry these principles a little further to their legitimate conclusion, and to what important results do they lead ! Self-knowledge and the satisfaction of an approv- ing conscience are the result of self-communion. Friendship, or, to speak more properly, love to God, is kept up by that intimate and close communion which the Christian is en- touraged to hold with him. ZH* ARISTOTLE'S [book ix to the liappy man, being by nature something good and pleasant, and if the existence of a friend is nearly the same, then a friend must also be of tho number of eligible tilings. But that which is ehgible to a man, he ought to possess ; or else he is defi3ient in that respect ; he, therefore, that is to be happy will need good friends. CHAP. X. Hoio many Friends a Man ought to have. 1 . Must we then make as many pei-sons our friends as How maLy possible 1 or, as it seems to have been appropriately dJsira'jle to ^^ ^ *^^® ^^^ ^^ hospitality,— ^*^6" " Have neither many guests nor none." Hesiod, Works and Days, 713. So will the rule also apply in the case of friendship, that we should neither be without friends, nor yet 2. have too many. The saying would seem to be Useful suitable altogether to those who are friends for the "®° *' sake of the useful : for it is troublesome to make a return of favours to a gi'eat many, and life is not long enough to do it. Consequently, more than what are sufficient for each particular kind of life, are suj^erfluous, and an impediment to living well, 3^ and therefore there is no need of them. And Pleasant a few friends for pleasure's sake are enough ; like friends. sweetening in our food. But with respect to the Virtuous good, should we have a« great a number as possible 1 tnends. ^^ -g ^^j^g^.g gon^g limit to number in friendship, as there is in a political community ; for neither can there be a poHtical community composed of ten l^eoj^le, nor is it any longer a political community when composed of a hundred thousand : ^ but the * This limitation of the number of persons constituting a political community may at first appear strange to us, who are accustomed to the large and populous communities of modem times ; but we must remember how very small was the nam* CHAP. X.J ETHICS. 257 quantity is not perhaps some {articular number, but only one between certain fixed limits. In the i case of friends, therefore, there is also some definite number ; and perhaps it is the greatest number with whom one can associate ; for this was thought to be the greatest sign of friendship. But that it is not possible for the same person to associate and con- tinue in friendship with many, is plain. Besides, these must also be friends to each other, if all intend to pass their time with each other ; and this is difficult in the case of a great number. 1*^ is also difficult to sympathize in pleasures and pains with many people ; for it is likely to happen at the same time, that a man may be rejoicing with one friend, and grieving with another. Perhaps, then, it is as well not to seek to have as 5i many friends as possible, but only as many as are sufficient for society ; for it would seem impossible to be a very strong friend to many. Hence, also, it is impossible to be in love with many ; for love is a kind of excess in friendship : and it is felt towards one object ; and therefore excess in it can only be felt towards a few. So it seems to be in g, real fact : for in friendship between companions, many do not become friends ; and those friend- ships which are most celebrated, are between two only." Those who have many friends, and are familiar with everybody, are by no one thought to be friends, except in a political sense ;^ and these are called men-pleasers. In the above sense, then, a man may be a friend to many, even without being a man-pleaser^ but reaUy as a good man : but for ber of enfranchised citizens, in even the largest of the Grecian states, as compared with the rest of the population. See Polit. Yii. 4. " The friendships of Saul and Jonathan, Damon and Pythiag, Pylades and Orestes, and so forth. ' In a political sense, i. e. in the same sense in which a man may be said to have a love for his country. The feeling of patriotism is of a wider and more extensive kind, not so much amatter of personal attachment ; or based, as friendship is, ia personal qualities. S seeking it ; and in eveiy case that which is ^ The slightest inconsistency of conduct is fatal to the authority and influence of a moral teacher. If he warns his hearers against pleasure, and is then seen to devote himself to the pursuit of pleasure, even of an innocent kind, his argu- ments are ineffectual, and his warnings are unheeded, because the mass of mankind are unable to draw nice distinctions, and to distinguish between lawful and unlawful pleasures. " Eudoxus was a native of Cnidus, who flourished about 01. c. iii. (B. C. 366). He was a disciple of the geometrician Archytas, and subsequently of Plato, by whom he was accom- panied in his travels to Egypt. He was the author of a work on astronomy, which was translated into verse by Aratu». See Matthise's History of Greek and Roman Lit., and Clinton'i Fasti, p. 366, note (e). cHAf.ii.] ETHICS. M3 ftn object of choice is |:?ood, and that which is most prove that 60 is the gi latest good ; consequently, he considered Pleasure tliat the fact of all having a bias towards the same ^^^^ ^^^j^ object proved that object to be the best for all;First* because each finds what is good for himself, as he argument, does food ; he argued, therefore, that what is good to all, and what all aloi at, was the cliief good. And his words were beUeved, more from the 2, excellence of his moral character than for their ^'^ ^^** own sake ; for he ]iad the reputation of being ^^^ ^^' <3minently tempemte : it was therefore thought that he did not use fcliis language as being a friend to pleasure, but that the case really was so. But 3. he considered tliis doctrine to be no less evident Second from considering the i^ontrary of pleasure ; for pain argument, is in itself an object shunned by all, and its contrary is, in the same manner, an object chosen by all ; and that is especially an object of choice, wliich we Third choose, not on account of anything else ; but plea- argument, sure is confessedly of this nature ; for no one asks for the sake of what he is pleased, as though he knew'+hat pleasure wa;i eligible on its own account; ^nd pleasure, if added to any good whatsoever. Fourth makes it more eligible ; for instance, if added to argument, the act of justice or temperance ; and good can only be increased by the addition of itself. This argument certainly seems to prove it to be 4. simongst goods, but not more so than anything else ; for eveiything is mpre eligible when in conjunction with another good, than wh-sn left alone. By a 5. similar argument, indeed, Plato overthrows the idea P'^*^° f of pleasure being the chief good ; because a plea- to^h?*^" ' sant life is more eligible when joined with prudence opinions of than without ; but if the union of the two is Eudoxus, better, pleasure simply cannot be the chief good ; ^^^ A.''»s- for you can add nothing to the cliief good which ^^^^^ ^ Avill make it more eligible : and it is plain that ^"^'^^''** nothing else can be the chief good, which becomes mure eligible when joined to any of those things wliich are eligible on their own account. What is there, then, of tliis nature in wliich we can parti- cipate ? for such is the object of our inquiry. Those fi. tti ARISTOTLE'S [unoK X Objection to first argument refuted. Objection to second argument efuted. who insist that that is not a good wliich all aim at, must take care that what they say does not amount to nothing : for we assert that what all think, must really be. And he who tries to overthrow this proof will not state any other more convincing ; for if it had been said that irrational beings only sought pleasure, there might be sometliing in the objection ; but if rational beings also seek it, how can there be anything in what they say 1 And per- haps even in the inferior beings there is some natural good principle, superior to their general instincts, which aims at that good which is pecu- liarly suited to them. Neither does what is said respecting the argu- ment from the contrary appear to have any weight : for it is said that although pain be an evil, it does not follow that pleasure is a good ; for evil m opposed to evil, and both are opposed to that which is neither good nor evil 3 in which they say what is by no means wrong in itself, but they do not happen to speak the truth in the case before us : for if both were evils, both must be objects of aversion ; or if neither of them were, then neither would be ; at least, they would be circumstanced alike : but now it is evident that men avoid the one as an evil, and choose the other as a good : they are therefore opposed in the manner stated. '^'^ «== The object of this chapter is as follows : — Aristotle is quite ready to allow that pleasure is a good, but not that it is the greatest good. Whilst, therefore, he is opposing Eudoxus^ who held the latter opinion, he does not disagree with Plato,^ so far as he also is an opponent of Eudoxus, and denies that pleasure is the chief good. This, however, does not prevent bim in the next chapter from objecting to and answering the arguments which Plato adduces to prove that pleasure i» literally not a good, but an absolute evil. That it is an evil, is proved by Plato in the following syllogism : — Whatever admits of more and less is indefinite — Pleasure admits of more and less — Therefore pleasure is indefinite. Whatever is indefinite is an evil — Pleasure is indefinite — Therefore pleasure is an evil. S«e the cvcTToixioi of the Pythagoreans. CHAP, in.] ETHICS. 46^ CHAP. III. Other Opinions on the subject of Pleasure. Nor yet, because pleasure is not of the class of 1. qualities, is it for tliat reason not a good ; for the Plato's ener^es of virtue are not qualities, nor is happi- ^l^^\^' ness. ^ But it is said that good is definite, but futed. pleasure indefinite, because it admits of degrees. 2. Now, if this opinion is derived from the act of His secoml being pleased, the same thing will apply to justice and the other moral virtues (according to which it is evidently allowed that men become of a cei-taiii quality in each several virtue) ; for some men are just and brave in a greater degree : it is possible also to perform the acts of justice and temperance in a greater or less degree. But if what they say 3. applies to pleasure abstractedly, there is reason to fear that they do not state the cause, if pleasures are some unmixed, some mixed. But what reason is there why, as health, which is definite, admits of degrees, pleasure should not be definite and do so likewise? for there is not the same symmetrical arrangement in all men, nor in the same person •* The arguments here refuted by Aristotle may be thu» briefly stated : — (1.) All goods are qualities ; pleasure is not a quality, therefore it is not a good. (2.) Pleasure admits of degrees, therefore it is indefinite : now the Pythagoreans placed the indefinite {aopiarov, arrHpov) in their catalogue of evils. (3.) All motions are imperfect, and consequently all generation, which is a species of motion, is imperfect. But "good" is perfect ; if, therefore, pleasure is a Kivrjerig, it is not a good. (4.) The same argument applies to dyaTrXrjpujair, which is » The following are the subdivisions of Kivr](ng given in the (!ategones, c. xi., and quoted by Chase in the notes to his tianslation. *' From not being to being. — Generation. From being to not being. — Destruction. From being to being more. — Increase. From being to being less. — Decrease. From being here to being there. — Change of place. From being in this way to being in that wuy. — Alteration.''' 266 ARISTOTLE'S ^bcok x, is tl.ere alw.i/s the sairie. but although relaxed, still health continues up to a certain point, and differs in degree. It is possible, then, that the case of pleasure may be the same. 4. Assuming the chief good to be perfect, and motions His third, and generations to be imperfect, they attempt to jirove pleasure to be a motion and a generation. But it seem.s that what they say is not correct, and that it is not a motion : for quickness and slowness appear to belong to every motion ; if not absolutely, as in the motion of the universe, yet relatively. 5. No%y, neither of these conditions belongs to plea.er- is therefore ^eption energizes, or that in which the perception fection "of resides, makes no diflference : but in everj-thing the every ata- energy is best of that which is well-disposed with Oijerif, did' reference to the best of all the objects which fall voia, and under it) : this must be the most perfect and the *^^'"' most pleasant : for pleasure is attendant upon every sense, as it is also upon every act of intellect and contemplation ; but the most perfect is the most pleasant, and the most perfect is, the energy of that wliich is well-di^osed with reference to the best of all the objects which fall under it. Pleasure, therefore, perfects the energy : but plea- sure does not perfect it in the same manner that the object and the perceptive facidty do if they are good ; just as health and the physician are not in the same manner causes of a person being healthy.^' 12. But that there is a pleasure in every act of the per- ' The physician is what the logicians call the efficient cause, whilst health is the formal cause, of our being healthy. In like manner, the object is the efficient cause, pleasure tha formal cause. CHAT. IV.] ETHICS. in eoptive faculty is eTideiit : for we say that siglits and sounds are pleasant : and it is also evident tliat this is most so, when the perceptive foculty is the best, and energizes upon the best object. Wlien the object perceived, and the faculty which I)erceives it, are of this nature, there will always be pleasure as long as there are an agent and a patient. Again, pleasure makes the energy complete, not as 13. the inherent habit would, but as some end added Pleasure to it : it is iust what the freshness of youth is to P^J'^ects the .1 • ,-, • r■^^n energv, not those m the prime 01 me. .^^ aninhe- As long, therefore, as the object of perception or ,ent haUt, intellect be such as it ought to be, aS also the but as an faculty which judges or contemplates, there \vill be ^""^ added pleasure in thei energy : for when the patient and JJJ^J ^^^_ the agent are similar, and correspond tb one tinuous. another, the same effect is naturally produced. Why, then, is no one continually pleased 1 is it that he becomes fatigued ? for no human faculties have the power of energizing continually. Pleasure, therefore, cannot result, for it follows the energy. But some things cause delight when they are 14. new, and for the same reason they do not cause it in the same degree afterwards ; for at first the in- tellect is awakened, and energizes intensely in them, as, in the case of sight, those do, who look stead- fastly ; but afterwards the energy is not of the same kind, but relaxed, and therefore the pleasure also becomes dulled. But one might imagine that all 15. men seek pleasure, because all are desirous of life ; dq men and life is a kind of energy ; and every one ener- from the gizes upon and with those things ^.vhich he loves (desire of best : as, for example, the musician, with his hear- , "^*^ ^. . ii ■ T -^1 T • . • pleasure of mg, upon music; the studious man, with his lu- thereversel tellect, upon matters of speculation ; and so on with the rest. But pleasure makes the energy perfect, and therefore it makes life perfect, which men desire. It is with reason, therefore, that they 16. also desire pleasure ; for it makes life, which is eligible, perfect to each one. But let the question whether we choose life for the sake of pleasure, or f72 ARISTOTLE'S [book x. pleasure for the sake of life, be dismissed for the present, for these seem to be intimately connected, and not to admit of separation ; for without an energy pleasure is not produced, and pleasure per- fects every energy. CHAP. V. That Pleasures differ in species, 1, Hence also pleasures seem to differ in species ; for Pleasures we think that things which differ in species are differ in made perfect by different things : for such seems to ^^^*^^^th ^" ^® *^® ^^^^ with natural and artificial productions, energies ^« animals and trees, and paintings and statues, which they and houses and furniture. And also we think that perfect energies, which differ in species, are made perfect ^ by things which differ in species. But the energies of the intellect differ from the energies of the senses, and each of these differ from one another in species ; consequently the pleasures which perfect them differ. 3. This would also appear from the intimate con- Because of nection subsisting between each pleasure and the the con- energy which it perfects; for the appropriate tween the" pleasure contributes to increase the energy ; for pleasure persons who energize with pleasure judge of every- and the thing and perform everytliing with a higher degree energy q£ accuracy ; as tho.se who take pleasure in geo- perfects "letry become geometricians, and comprehend everytliing more distinctly. So also those who are fond of music, or fond of building, and so forth, make a progress in their peculiar employment, because i. they take pleasure in it. Pleasures, therefore, con- tribute to increase the energy ; but what contributes to increase must be intimately connected ; and things which are intimately connected with objects difteiing in species, must themselves also differ in species. CHAP. V.J ETHICS. tJh Again, tMs would appear still more plainly from 5. the fe;Ct that pleasui-es arising from other sources Becau8<- are impediments to energies ; for those who love [J.^^^^'J^^^^pj music cannot pay attention to conversation if sources they hear any one playing, because they take destroy more pleasure in music than in the energy in energies, which they are engaged. The pleasure, therefore, which is attendant upon music, destroys the energy which was employed in conversation. It is the 6. same in every other case, when a man is employed upon two subjects at once : for the pleasanter energy drives out the other ; and if there is a great difference as to the pleasure, so much the more, so that he cannot energize at all upon the other. When, therefore, we take very great delight 7. in anything, we cannot do anything else at all ; and it is only when we are but moderately pleased ■ with one thing, that we employ ourselves in another : just as persons who eat sweetmeats in the theatre do so most when the actors are bad. But since the pleasure properly belonging to them makes the energies accurate, and more lasting, and better, but the pleasures arising from anything else spoil them, it is e\ddent that they are very distinct. For plea- Oppositr sures arising from something else produce nearly pleasures . the same effect as pains arising from the thing ^^^ '. ^ itself; for energies are destroyed by the pains which belong to them ; for instance, if writing or reasoning is unpleasant and painful to any one, he does not vn-ite or reason, because the energy is ' painful. The contrary effect, therefore, is produced 8. on energies by the pleasures and pains wliich pro- perly belong to them : but those properly belong to the energy, which follow upon it independently of anytliing else. It has been said also, that pleasures arising from other objects produce nearly the same effect as pain ; for they destroy the energy, but not in the same way. But since energies differ in goodness or badness, 9« and some are to be chosen, some to be avoided, and ^-^p*''"'^* Hhers neither, the fJeasures also are related in the gocducsi T 274 ARISTOTLE'S [book X, <«*.v.! bad 10. 11, Pleasures differ in purity 12, Pleasures differ in men and animals, becaiuse their ener- gies differ. name way ; for there is a pleasiu*e properly belonging to every energy. That, therefore, which is proper to the good energy is good, and that which is proper to the bad energy is bad ; for the desii-es of honour- able things are praiseworthy, the desires of dis- graceful ones to be blamed. But the pleasures, wliich are contained in the energies, more properly belong to them than the desii*es ; for the latter are distinct both as to time and nature j but the former follow closely upon the energies, and are so inseparable from them, that it is questionable whe- ther the energy is not the same as the pleasure. It appears, however, that pleasure is not an operation of intellect or of the senses ; for that would be absurd; but becauise they are not separated, they appear to some to be identical. As, therefore, the energies are different, so are the pleasures. Now sight differs from touch in purity, and hearing and smelling differ from taste ; their pleasures, therefore, differ in the same way ; and the pleasm-es of the intellect differ from these, and each differs fi'om the other. There seems to be a pleasure properly belonging to every animal, as there is to each its proper work ; for it is that which is according to its energy. And if we exa- mine each case separately by itself, this would seem to be the case ; for the pleasures of a horse, of a dog, and of a man differ : as Heraclitus says, thai an ass would prefer litter to gold ; for food is • pleasanter than gold to asses. The pleasures, there- fore, of things which differ in kind are different also ; but it is reasonable to expect that the plea- sures of the same things should not differ. But they differ in no slight degree, at least in the case of men ; for the same tilings give pain to some, and pleasure to others ; and to some they are pain- ful and objects of hate, to othei-s pleasant and objects of love. The case is also the same in sweet things ; for the same things are not thought sweet by a man in a fever, and a man in health ; nor is the same thing thought warm by an invalid and bv CBAF. VI.] ETHICS. 275 A man in a good state of body : t-!ie same also is the case with everytliing else. But in all such in- stances, that is thought to be the truth wliich appears so to the good man. If this is well said, as it appears to be, and if 14. excellence, and the good man, so far forth as he is True pica- good, are the measure of everytliing : those must ^iJ^^^^j^ ^^ be pleasures wliich appear so to him, and those to the irood things pleasant in wliich he delights. But if what man. is disagreeable to him seems pleasant to any one, it is no wonder ; for there are many things which de- prave and injure men ; but such things are not pleasant, except to those men, and to others who tire so disposed. With respect to those pleasures 15. which are confessedly disgraceful, it is evident that we must not call them pleasures except to the depraved. But of those pleasures which seem to be good, what particular one or what kind must we say is the pleasure of man 1 or is not tliis plain from the energies ? for pleasures follow upon them. Whether, then, there be one or more energies of 16. the perfect and perfectly happy man, the pleasures which perfect them must properly be said to be the pleasures of man ; and the rest must be so in a secondary or even very inferior degree,^ just as the energies are. CHAP. YI. On Happiness. Since we have spoken of the virtues, of the differ- 1. ent kinds of friendships, and of pleasiu'es, it remains Definition that we should discuss the subject of happiness in °* happi- outline, since we assumed this to be the end of gy^e// ^ The original is xoXXoorwc, for which we have no equiva- lent in English. We could use the expression ** lower in an infinitesimal degree;" but we cannot say " a multesimal de- gree." This, however, would exactly express the signification of the Greek. T 2 f-fi ARISTOTLE'S [book X. Happiness an energy according to virtue human actions. Therefore, if we recapitulate what has been said before, the ar^iment Avill be more concise. We have said that it is not a habit ; for if it were, it might exist in a man who slept throughout his life, living the life of a plant, and suftiering the greatest misfortunes. If, then, this does not 3. please us, but if we must rather bring it under a kind of energy, as was said before ; and if, of energies, some are necessary ^ and eligible for the sake of something else, others are eligible for their own sakes ; it is plain that we must consider happiness as one of those which are ehgible for their own sakes, and not one of those which are eligible for the sake of something else ; for happi- ness is in want of notliing, but is self-sufficient. 4. Now those energies are eligible for their own sakes, from which notliing more is sought for beyond the energy. But of this kind, actions done according to virtue seem to be : for the pertormance of ho- nourable and good acts is amongst tilings eligible Reasons for their own sakes. And of amusements, thost> why happi- are eligible for their own sakes which are plea- sant : for men do not choose these for the sake of anything else : for they are rather injured by them than benefited, since they neglect their persons and property. But the majority of those who are called happy fly to such pastimes as these ; and, therefore, those who have a happy turn for such pastimes as these are in favour with tyrants ; for they make themselves agreeable in those things which tyrants desire ; and such are the men they want. These things are thought to belong to happi nes;?, because those who are in power pass their leisure in them. But such men are perhaps no proof; for neither virtue nor intellect consists in having power, and from these two good energies proceed ; nor if Necessary does not here imply necessary per se (innpre- Nothwendigkeit), but means and instruments necessary to the uccomi^lishment of some end. — Michelet. ness does not consist in amuse- ment. 5 CMAP. vi] ETHICS. 2:7 thosej who liave never tasted pure and liberal plea- sure, fly to ])odilj pleasures, must we therefore think that these pleasures are more eligible ; for children think those things which are esteemed by them the best. It is reasonable, therefore, to sup- 7 pose, that as the things which appear honourable to cliildren and men differ, so also those which appear so to the bad and the good will difier likewise, and therefore, as we have very often said, those things are honourable and pleasant which are so to the good man. But to every man that energy is most eligible which is according to his proper habit ; and, therefore, to the good man. that is most eligible which is according to virtue. Consequently happiness does not consist in 8 amusement ; for it is absurd that the end should be amusement ; and that men should toil and suffer inconvenience all their life long for the sake of amusement ; for we choose everytliing, as we might say, for the sake of something else, except happi- ness ; for that is an end. But to be serious and 9. to labour for the sake of amusement appears foolish and very childish. But to amuse ourselves in order Saying t>< that we may be serious, as Anacharsis said, seems Anacharsia to be right : for amusement resembles relaxation. Relaxation, therefore, is not tne end, for we have recourse to it for the sake of the energy. But the happy life seems to be according to virtue ; and this is serious, and does not consist in amusement, "We say also that serious things are better than 10. those which are ridiculous and joined with amuse- ment ; and that the energy of the better part and of the better man is more serious ; and the energy of the better man is at once superior, and more tending to happiness. Besides, any person what- \1. ever, even a slave, may enjoy bodily pleasures no less than the best man ; but no one allows that a slave partakes of happiness except so far as that he partakes of life : for happiness does not consist in Kucli modes of passing life, but in encjrgies accord- ing to \TTtue, as has been said already. lire ARISTOTLKS 1. Reasons why happi- ness is an energy ac- cording to tlie best virtue, i. e. according 10 intel- lectual virtue. It is the noblest. Tlie most rDiistant, 3 The plea- tantf.ot. On Contemplativgi Happiness. Ii' happiness be an energy according to virtue, it is reasonable to suppose that it is accortling to tho ])cst vii'tut.' ; and this must be the "virtue of tlie best part : of man. Whether, then, this best part be the intellect, or something else — ^Avhich is thought naturally to bear rule and to govern, and to posses;^ ideas upon honourable and divine subjects, ov whether it is itself divine, or the most divine of any property which we possess ; the energy of this part according to its proper virtue must be perfect hap- piness : and that this energy is contemplative lia? been stated. Tliis also would seem to agi-ee witli what was said before, and with the truth : for thi.>* energy is the noblest ; since the intellect is tlie noblest thing witliin us, and of subjects of know- ledge, those are noblest with which the intellect is* conversant. It is also most continuous ; for we are better able to contemplate continuously than to do any- thing else continuously. We think also that plea- sure must be united to happiness : but of all the energies according to virtue, that according to wis- dom is confessedly the most pleasant : at any i^te, wisdom seems to contain pleasures worthy of admi- ration, both in point of purity and stability : and it is reasonable to suppose that tliis mode of life should be pleasanter to those who know it than to thcee who are only seeking it. Again, that which is called self- sufficiency must be most concerned with contem- plative happiness ; for both the wise man and the just, and all others, need the necessaries of life ; but supposing them to be sufficiently siippHed with such goods, the just man requires persons toward;* whom and with whom he may act justly; and in like manner the temperate man, and the bi-ave CHAP. VII.] ETHICS. 279 man, and so on. with all tlie rest, But the wise man, if even hy himself, is able to contemplate ; and the more so the wiser he is ; perhaps he \viil energize better, if he has co-operators, but nevei-the- 6. less he is most self-sufficient. This would seem also to be the only energy wliich is loved for its own sake ; .or it has no result beyond the act of contemplation ; iy\it from the active energies, we gain more or less beyond the performance of the action. Happiness seems also to consist in leisure , for 7. we are busy in order that we may have leisure ; It implie* and we go to war in order that we may be at peace. ^^'"^^^'* Now the energies of the active virtues are exerted in poUtical or military affairs ; and the actions with respect to these are thought to allow of no leisure. Cei'tainly military actions altogether exclude it; for no one chooses war, nor makes preparations for war for the sake of war ; for a man would be thought perfectly defiled with blood, if he made Ills friends enemies in order that there might be battles and massacres. The energy of the states-' 8 man is also wdthout leisure ; and besides the actual administration of the state, the statesman seeks to gain power and honours, or at least happiness for liimself and his fellow-citizens, different from the happiness of the state, w^hich we are in search of, clearly as being different. I^ then, of all coiurscs of action which are accord- 9. ing to the virtues, those which have to do with Recapitw- politics and war excel in beauty and greatness ; and ^^^*o'»- these have no leisure, and aim at some end, and ai'e not chosen for their own sakes ; but the energy of the intellect is thought to be superior in inten- sity, because it is contemplative ; and to aim at no end beyond itself, and to have a pleasure properly belonging to it ; and if this ir crease < the energy; and if self-sufficiency, and leisure, and freedom from cares (as far as anything human can be free), and everything which is a.ttributed to the happy man, evidently exist in this energy ; then this must l>e tht: perfect happiness of ni&n, when it attains the 280 \RISTOTLE'S [book i end of life complete ; for notMng is incomplete oi those things which belong to happiness. Id. But such a life would be better than man could Such a life attain to ; for he would live thus, not so far forth as Rpproaches -^^ ^ man, but as there is in him something divine.^^ the divine. ^^* SO far as this divine part surpasses the whole compound nature, so far does its energy surpass the 11. energy which is according to all other virtue. If, then, the intellect be divine when compared with man, the life also, which is in obedience to that, will be divine when compared with human life. 12. But a man ought not to entertain hmnan thoughts, as some would advise, because he is human, nor mortal thoughts, because he is mortal :" but as far as it is possible he should make himself immortal, and do everything with a view to living in accord- ance mth the best principle in him ; although it be small in size, yet in power and value it is far 13. more excellent than all. Besides, this would seem to be each man's " self," if it really is the ruling and the better part. It would be absurd, there- fore, if a man were to choose not his own life, but 14. the life of some other thing. And what was said before will apply now ; for that which peculiarly belongs to each by natui'e, is best and most pleasant to every one ; and consequently to man, the life according to intellect is most pleasant, if intellect especially constitutes Man. This life, therefore, Ls the most happy. " Compare what Cicero says respecting the Stoics (de Fin. V. iv.) : '* Vitae autem degendse ratio maxime quidem illL^i placuit quieta, in contemplatione et cognitione posita rerum : quae quia deorum erit vitse siniillima, sapienti visa est digim- fcinia, atque his de rebus et splendida est eorum et illustria oratio." — Brewer. " Compare Hor. Od. IV. vii. : — *' Imraortalia ne speres, monet annus, et aUnum Qiue rapit hora dieor .' ' VIII.} ETHICS. 28) CHAP. YIIl. Continuation of the same subject. But tliat life wliicli is according to the other kind 1. of virtue, occupies the second place in respect to J^?^,*"', happiness ; for the energies according to it are be- happiness longing to human nature ; for we do what is just is superiot and brave, and everything else wliicii is in accord- to moral ance with the virtues, one towards another, in our happiness., dealings and our needs, and in actions and passions of every kind, observing what is becoming to each. But all these appear to belong to human nature ; 2. in some points moral virtue even seems to be the consequence of our corporeal nature, and, in many, to be intimately connected with the passions. Pru- 3. dence also is closely united to moral virtue, and moral viiijue to prudence ; if the principles of pru- dence are in accordance with the moral virtues, and the correctness of the moral virtues in accordance with prudence.^ But these are knit together with the passions, and must relate to the whole compound nature of man ; and the virtues of the compound nature are human ; and therefore the life according to them, and the happiness according to them, are human. But the happiness of the intellect is sepa- 4 rate ; and let it be enough to have said thus much about it, since extreme exactness is beyond the subject proposed. Intellectual happiness also would seem to require 5. external good in a small degree, or in a less degree ^^ '^^ '^^^ '- than moral happiness. For let it be granted that l^'^^l both equally stand in need of the necessaries of life good, (even though he who is engaged in social duties ° Moral virtue chooses the right end ; prudence directs us in the choice of the right means to that end ; each is therefore imperfect without the other, and hence the intimate and in- separal>le union between the two of which Aristotle here epCHRS. 5«2 ARISTOTLE'S [boos x. rmploys himself more about the body, and things of that kind, for there would be some little differ- ence), yet with respect to the energies there will be a great difference ; for tlie liberal man will want money in order to perform liberal acts, and the just man will want means to make returns, for wishes are uncertain, and even the unjust pretend that they wish to act justly ; the brave man also will want power, if he is to perform anything : . ' according to his virtue ; and the temperate man will want an oppoi-tunity to show his temperance. For, otherwise, how will he or any other character be known. 6. . A question has arisen, whether the deliberate preference, or the actions themselves, have the greater influence over virtue, since it consists in both : now it is evident that its perfection must reside in both ; but for the perfection of actions^ many things are needed ; and the more so, the 7. greater and nobler the actions are. But the con- templative man requires no such tilings, at least, to perform liis energy ; but they are, so to speak, im- pediments, at least they are so to liis contempla- tion. So far forfh as he is man, and associates with many, he chooses to ])erform acts of moral virtue ; he will therefore require such tl tings in order to maintain his character as a man. • 8. That perfect happiness is a kind of contemplative It is the energy, might be shown also from the folloAving happiness considerations ; that we suppose the gods to be pre- may sim^ eminently blessed and happy. But what moral ac- pose that tions can we attribute to them 1 shall they be just the gods actions ; or will it not appear ridiculous to represent enjoy* them as making bargains, and restonng deposits, ' and so forth 1 Shall we, then, attribute to then) courageous acts, making them undergo formidable things, and meet danger, because it is honoin-able? or liberal acts ? But to wliom Aviil they give ? and it is absurd to suppose that they have money, or any- thing of that sort. But if we say that they are temnei-afe, what would that mean'? is not the praise CHAP, v.ii.] ETHICS. 2S3 absurd, because they have not bad desires ? i' And it lO, we went through every case, moral actions would We cannot seem insignificant, and unworthy of gods. B1.1 yet ^t*'"'0"t;e to all suppose that they live, and therefore energize ; actions. for we do not imagine that they sleep like Endy • mion.i To him, therefore, who lives, if we take away moral action, and still more so, production, what is left besides ' contemplation ? So that the 11. energy of the Deity, as ic surpasses all others in ^"t o"»v blessedness, must be contemplative : and therefore, ^^^ of con- of human energies, that which is nearest allied to this must be the happiest. A proof of this also is, that other animals do not 12. partake of happiness which are deprived altogether of such an energy. For to the gods, their whole life is blessed ; and to men, as far as there belongs to them some resemblance to such an energy : but no other animal is happy, because they in no way jmrtake of contemplation. As far, therefore, as 13. contemplation extends, so far does happiness ; and ^^ animal whoever have more capacity for contemplation, "^ VI"" 'f 1 1 • i • 1 X 11 1. J. • ,,' capable of Jiave more happiness, not accidentally, but m the it. way of contemplation itself, for it is of itself valu- able. So that happiness must be a kind of contem- j)lation. P How much more philosophical are the following observa- tions of Bishop Butler on the happiness of heaven (Anal. Part I. c. V.) : — " Nor is our ignorance, what will be the em- ployment of this happy community, nor our consequent igno- rance, what particular scope or occasion there will be for the exercise of veracity, justice, and charity, amongst the members of it with regard to each f^'-her, any proof that there will be no sphere of exercise for tnose virtues. Much less, if that were possible, is our ignorance any proof that there will be no occasion for that frame ol mind, or character which is formed by the daily practice of those virtues here, and which is a result from it. This at least must be owned in general, that, as the government established in the universe is moral, the character of virtue and piety must, in some way or other, be the condi- tion of our happiness, or the qualification for it." •i The story of Endymion is well known. Cicero alludes to it in his De Finibus, V. xx. : — " Itaque ne si jucundissimis quidem nos somniis usuros putemus, Endymionis somnum nobis velimus dari : idque si accidat, mortis instar putemus." 284 ARISTOTLE'S [uoux 14, How far external goods necessary. 15. IG, The opi- nions of Solon and Anaxago- ras. 17. 18, Tlie liappy man will need external prosperity, so far forth as he is man ; for human nature is not sufficient of itself for contemplation ; but the body must be in health, and it must have food and all other care and attendance. We must not however imagine that the person who is to be happy will want many and gi-eat goods, because we say that without external good he can be blessed ; for self- sufficiency does not consist in excess, nor does action. But it is possible to perform honourable things ^^ithout being lord of earth and sea ; for a man may be able to act according to vii-tue vrith moderate means. We may see tliis plainly : for private individuals are thought to perform good acts no less than men in power, but even more so. And it is sufficient to have a competence, for the life of that man will be happy, who energizes accord- ing to virtue. Solon also perhaps gave a good description of the happy man, when he said, that in his opinion it was he who was moderately sup- plied with external goods, who had done the most honourable deeds, and lived temperately ; for it is })OSsible that men who have moderate possessions should do what they ought. Anaxagoras also seems to have conceived the happy man to be neither ricli nor powerful, when he said, that he should not be surprised if he was thought absurd by the multi- tude ;^ for they judge by externals, having a percep' tion of such things only. The opinions of wise men, therefore, seem to agree with what has been said ; such statements, therefore, carry with them some weight. But we judge of truth, in practical matters, from facts and from life, for on them the decisive point turns ; and we ought to try all that has been said by applying it to facts and to life ; and if our argimients agree ' The meaning of this passage is, that Anaxagoras evidently did not think that riches or power constituted happiness ; be- cause, he said, that if he was asked who was a happy man, he should probably point out one whom the world would consider (uolish and absurd. cwAP. ix.] ETHICS. 285 with facts, we may receive them ; but if they are at • variance, we must consider them as mere words. He also who energizes according to intellect, and lo. pays attention to that, and has it in the best state. He who is likely to be most beloved by the gods ; for if any fu ^^^'^ffi^ regard is paid to human affairs by the gods, as it is ^^^^^ ^g_ thought that there is, it is reasonable to suppose loved by that they would take pleasure in what is the best the gods, and nearest aUied to themselves : but this must be because be the intellect ; and that they would be kind in re- ™^\les" tui'n to those who love and honour this most, as to them, persons who pay attention to their friends, and who 20. act rightly and honourably. But that all these qualities especially belong to the wise man, is quite clear; it is probable, therefore, that he is at the same time most dear to the gods, and most happy ; so that even in this way the wise man must be the liappiest man. CHAP. IX." That it IS not sufficient to be acquainted with the Theory of Virtue, but to possess Virtue, and practise it. If, then, we have spoken at sufficient length of these 1 . matters, and of the virtues, and also of friendship Moral pre- and pleasure, must we think that our original plan g^^gi^i'^t is completed ? or is the end in practical matters, unless the according to the common saying, not the contem- student plating and knowing all things, but rather the ^^ ^^en ]>ractising them ? If so, it is not sufficient to know Pfeviousl* the theory of virtue, but we must endeavour to to^?inue • possess and employ it ; or pursue whatever other therefore means there may be of becoming good. Now, if education mere treatises were sufficient of themselves to make '"^s^ j^^ men good, justly " would they have received many 2°"^^* ^^^ and great rewards," as Theognis saj^, ^s and it would • This chapter b the connecting link between the Ethics and Politics. •• The passage to which Aristot It, alludes is as follows : — 286 ARISTOTLE'S [book x. 3. be our duty to i!>ro\ide ourselves with them. But the truth is, that they seem to have power to urge ou and to excite young men of liberal minds, and to make a character that is generous and truly fond of the honourable, easily influenced by virtue ; but that they have no power to persuade the multitude 4. to what is virtuous and honourable. For it is not 7^^i!^T^^^ the nature of the masses to obey a sense of shame, ^ y ear. -^^^ ^^^^ . ^^^ ^^ abstain from vicious things because it is disgraceful, but for fear of punishments ; for they live according to the dictates of passion, and pursue their own peculiar pleasures, and the means of gratifying them ; they fly also from the contrary pains ; but of what is honourable and truly pleasant, they have no idea, inasmuch as they never had a 5. taste for them. What reasoning, then, can efiect a Cannot be change in such men as these 1 for it is not possible, reasoned Qy, ^^ least not easy, to alter what has been for a long time impressed upon the moral character ; but it is perhaps a great tiling, if, when everything is present by which we are thought to become good, we can partake of virtue. 6. But it is thought that men become good, some Ways of by nature, others by practice, others by teaching, becoming 2;i'ow it is plain that whatever belongs to nature is •^ * not in our own power, but exists by some divine causes in those who are truly fortunate. But rea- soning and teacliing, it is to be feared, will not avail in every case, but the mind of the hearer must be previously cultivated by habits to feel pleasure and aversion properly, just as the soil must, which nourishes the seed. For he who lives in obedience to passion, would not listen to reasoning which tiums liim from it; nay, more, he would not under- stand it. And how is it possible to change the •T^ convictions of such a man as this 1 On the whole, it appeal's that passion does not submit to reasoning, but to force. There must, therefore, previously exist *' If to the sons of ^sculapius had been given To cure the vices and bad hearts of men, Many end great would their rewards have been. ' CHAT. IX. J ETHICS. 28V' a cliai'acter in some way connected witli '\Trtue, loving what is honourable, and hating what is dis- graceful. <^ But to meet with right education in the 8. path of virtue from childhood is difficult, unless one Education is brought up under such laws : for to live tempe- ^^^^ ^^ , . rately and patiently is not pleasant to the majority, j^^^,^ and especially to the young. Therefore, education and institutions ought to be regulated by law ; for they will not be painful when they have become familiar." Perhaps it is not sufficient that we ishoitld meet 9 with good education and attention when young ; Education but since when we arrive at manhood we ought ^^^ ^^^^^' ^ also to study and practise what we have learnt, we g^ry for should require laws also for this piu-pose: in short, men as we should want laws relating to the whole of life ; well as for the masses are obedient to compulsion rather children, than to reason, and to punishments rather than to the principle of honour. Therefore, some think lo. that legislators ought to exhort to virtue, and to urge men on by appealing to the principle of honour, since those who are good in their practice will obey when they are led ; but to impose chas- tisements and punishments on those who are dis- obedient and naturally indisposed to virtue, and to banish altogether the incurable ; because he who is good, and lives with regard to the principle of honour, vdll obey reason ; but the bad man desires pleasure, and is con-ected by pain, like a beast of * In the original, icaTOKu>xi{iOQ, from KaTix(^- Hence the signification of the word is, so disposed as to be restrained or kept in check by virtuous principles. " It is remarkable to observe how little practical benefit the moral philosophers of antiquity seem to have felt would be derived from their writings; what faint motives they could urge to influence the generality of mankind. For how far could the love of virtue in itself urge men to become virtuous, who had no taste for virtue } The very fact of loving virtue for virtue's sake, pre-supposes a proficiency in morals far beyond the general state of mankind. Some other motive waa then clearly necessary for men sunk in vice as the heathen world, a powerful motive, which no heathen, no human philo* •ophy, could supply. 2«8 ARISTOTLE'S [book x. 11. burthen. Tlierefore, it !« a common saying, that the pains ought to be such as are most opposed to tie pleasiu-es which are loved. 12. Now, then, as has been said, he that is to be a good Re<».pitu- man must have been educated well, and have been lition. made to form good habits, and thus continue to live under good institutions, and never practise what is bad, either involuntarily or voluntarUy; and this is to be done by living m obedience to some intelligent principle, and some right regulation, which has the power of enforcing its decrees. Bui the paternal authority has no strength, nor com- pulsory force ; nor, in shoit, the authority of any one man, unless he is a king, or some one of that sort ; but the law does possess a compulsory power, since it is reason proceeding from a certain pni- deUce and intelligence ; and besides, men hate those individuals who oppose their appetites, even if they do it rightly ; but the law is not odious 13. when it prescribes what is good. In the city of Tae ex- Lacedsemon alone, with a few others, the legislator ample of seems to have paid attention to education and insti- P" ' tutions ; whilst in most states such matters havo been neglected, and each lives as he pleases, like the Cyclops, Administering the law for his children and wife.^ 14. It would therefore be best that the state should paj: Education attention to education, and on right principles, and the stete ° *^^* ^* should have power to enforce it : but if neglected as a public measure, it would seem to be the duty of every individual to contribute to th§ virtue of his children and friends, or at least to make this his deliberate purpose. 15. From what has been said, it would seem that a man would be best able to do this if he made him- self fit for legislation : for public systems of educa?- * " Each rules his race, his neighbour not his care ; Heedless of others, to his own severe." Pope, Horn. Od. ix. So also Juvenal (Sat. xiv.) describes a domestic tyrant as •* Antiphates trepidi laris, ac Polyphemus." CHAP. IX.] ETHICS. 239 tion are evidently made by tlie laws ; and those are good wliich are made by good laws. But whether these laws be written or unwritten would seem tc make no difference ; nor whether they are those by which one or many persons are to be educated, as it makes no difference in music, in gymnastics, and other branches of education. For in the same way li. that legal enactments and customs have authority in states, so also the words of a father, and customs, have authority in private families ; and still greater authority on account of the relationship, and the benjefits conferred : for children have a natural affec- tion for their parents, and are naturally disposed to obey. Moreover, private education differs from ^7. pubHc j as is the case in medicine ; for universally ^^^^^^ *°* abstinence and rest are good for a man in a fever ; education but to a particular individual perhaps they are not ; compared^ and the pugilist perhaps does not use the same style of fighting with all. It would seem, therefore, that 18. the case of the individual might be studied with gi'eater accuracy, if the education was private ; for then each is more likely to meet with what suits him. But still a physician, or a gymnastic master, or any other master, would take the best care of the individual, if he knew the general rule, namely, what is good for all men, or for all of a certain class : for the sciences are said, and with truth, to have to do with general rules. Nevertheless, perhaps, there is nothing to hinder 19. one from taking good care of an individual, even if one has no scientific knowledge, but only accurately examines by experience what happens to each individual ; as some physicians seem to be the best physicians to themselves, although they are not at all able to assist another. Perhaps it may be 20 thought that he who wishes to become skilled in art, or fit to study any subject theoretically, should no less have recourse to the universal, and make himself acquainted with it, as far as may be ; for we have said that the sciences have to do with the uiiiversaL And perhaps he who wisies to make I'l'c study y of legisla 290 ARISTOTT.F/S [book x. tion neces- nien better by education, whether many or few, sary to an gj^Q^}^ endeavour to become fit for the duties of a 21 legislator, if it is by laws that we become good. For to give a good disposition to any one, and to the particular person intrusted to him, is not in the power of every one, but if of any, it is in the power of him who possesses knowledge : as is the case in medicine and other arts, in which it is pos- sible to study and become -wise. 22. Should we not, then, after this, ascertain from what sources, and by what means, a man might become fitted for the duties of a legislator, or, as in other cases, must he learn the science of legislation from those who are skilled in politics 1 for it was How legis- supposed to be a part of political science. Or does lation is to the case of political science appear to be diflferent be taught, f^.^j^^ ^^lat of the other sciences and faculties 1 for in the others the same men seem to teach the fa- culties, and energize upon them ; as, for example^ 23. physicians and painters. Now the sophists profess Professions to teach politics, but not one of them is a practical soDhUt poUtician ; statesmen do tliis, who would seem to do it in consequence of a kind of faculty, and from experience rather than on any intellectual prin- ciple : for they do not seem to write or to speak upon such subjects (and yet it would perhaps be a more honourable employment than to make forensic speeches and public harangues) : nor do they seem to make their own sons, or any others of their 24. fiiends, politicians. But it is reasonable to suppose that they would do so if they coidd ; for thiey could not have left any Ijetter legacy to their fellow-citizens, nor could they have wished any better thing for themselves than this faculty, nor consequently to then- best friends. 25. However, expeiience seems to contribute not a Advantages little ; for otherwise men would not become better of expo- politicians by being accustomed to political affairs, riciicc to 1 •/ o 1 the poll- I^ seems, therefore, that those who are desii'ous of tioiai:. knowledge on political science, need also experience. 26. But those sophists who profess it, seem to be very CUAP. IX.] ETHICS 291 fer from teaching it : for they do not at all know either what is its specific nature, nor what is its object-matter : for else they would not have assumed it to be the same with rhetoric, or even worse ; nor would they have thought that it is easy to legislate, merely by making a collection of approved laws, because it is possible to select the best ; as if this selection were not a work requiring intelligence ; and as if a correct discrimination were not of the utmost importance here, just as it is in music. For the experienced form a right 27» judgment of works in every case, and understand by what means, or how they will be accomplished, and what sort of things harmonize with each other ; but the inexperienced may be contented, if they are not ignorant whether the work is executed well or ill, as in the case of painting. Now, laAvs are, 28, as it appears, "the works" of political science. How then can a man from the study of these become fit for the duties of a legislator, or select the best 1 for it does not appear that men become physicians from studying prescriptions; and yet the authors endeavour to state not only the cases, but also in what manner they may be cured, and the proper mode of treatment, distinguishing the symptoms of each disease. But these are thought useful to the experienced ; but to those who have no knowledge upon the subject, useless. Perhaps, then, collections of laws and of consti- 29. tutions *' would be useful to those who are able to ^^j*/^ *?^ study the theory, and to decide what is done well, onawri-e or the contraiy, or what kind of laws are suitable useful, to certain cases : but to those who go through such collections without having formed a habit, the power of forming a correct judgment cannot belong, except it belongs to them spontaneously; but perhaps they might thus become more intelli- gent on these subjects. Since, therefore, all former writers have passed over without examination the '^ Aristotle himself wrote a treatise on this subject, whicli i^ DOV.- lost to US. v9 292 ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [book x. 30. subject of legislation, it would perhaps be better Since f^j, ^g ^q examine it ourselves, and, in sboi-t, tlie has been ^ whole subject of politics, in order that the philo- passed over sophy of human natui'e may, as far as is in our by others, power, be completed. First, ^ then, if anything Aristotle j^^s been well said by our predecessors on any par- write°on\he ^^^^^^^ point, let us endeavour to explain it : then jubject. from a comparison of the different foi*ms of govern- 31. ment, let us examine what kind of qualities pre- serve and destroy commonwealths, and each par- ticular form of government, and for what reasons some are administered well, and others the contrary : for when these points are considered, we shall j^erhaps be better able to have a comprehensive view of what form of government is best, and how each is regulated, and what are its laws and insti- tutions. Let us then make a commencement. * Aristotle here prepares the reader fqr the three parts into \iyhich his Politics is divided. Namely : — (1.) Books 1. 11. (2.) HI.— VI. (S.) VII. VIII. QUESTIONS TO THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. BOOK I. CHAP. I. CoNTRAjST the etMcal system of Aristotle with that of Plato, and illustrate your assertions by quotations from his works. Dctine the chief good. Of what science does Aristotle consider the chief good to be tlie end ? What are the subdivisions of that science ? Of how many etliical treatises was Aristotle the author ? Name them, and state what you know respecting each. Explain fully the terms hipyeLu, epyor, hvva/j.ic, e'^tr. Show that the ends of the chief arts are superior to those of the subordinate arts. CHAP. II. Show the practical utility of the knowledge of the cLicf good. Prove that the political, i. e. the science of social life, is the master science. What arts are comprehended under it 1 Show that Aristotle's doctrine of the subordination of ethics to politics harmonizes with the way in which the W4 QUESTIONS TO THE [hook r. Greeks viewed the relation between an individual and tbo Btate. CHAP. III. ^Vllat do you mean by an exact scie: ce ? Give instances in illustration. Show that neither politics nor ethics are exact sciences. On what does exactness depend 1 Distinguish between necessary and contingent matter. How are men qualified to judge of subjects 1 Why is a young man not a fit student of ethics 1 Wliat do you mean by a young man 1 CHAP. lY. What is the good aimed at by the political science ? What is the name universally given to it ? Mention different theories respecting it. Which of these is the Platonic theory ? Explain fully the difference between analjrtical and syn- thetical reasoning. What is to direct us in the selection of either of these two methods 1 Distinguish between erapiiical and scientific knowledge. What i^revious education is necessary for the ethical student ? Quote the passage from Hesiod given in this chapter. CHAP. V. How many theories of happiness does Aristotle enumerate in this chapter 1 "Why does he enumerate so many ? Name them, and show their incorrectness. Explain the terms esoteric, exoteric, encyclic, and acioa- jnatic. Give Cicero's definition (de Fin. V. v.), and show its in • correctness. In what part of tliis treatise does Aristotle consider the contemplative life ? CHAP, vn.l NICOMACUEAN ETHICS. 295 Wliy does lie defer it so long 1 Explain tlie term ftiaioc. Show that wealth cannot be the chief good. CHAP. YL Explain Plato's doctrine of the i^ia. Distinguish between lUa and elluc. Does Aristotle fully examine the truth or falsehood o^ Plato's theory or not 1 Distinguish between. " idea " and " abstract idea.'* What points in Plato's theory does Aristotle show to be inconsistent with the doctrine that " the good " is an idea ? Has Aristotle's behaviour to Plato ever been impugned 1 State what you can in liis defence. Distinguish between apidjjiol eldrjTiKo^f and (TVfxtXrjroi. Name the ten categories. Give an account of Pvthagoras and Speusippus. What is meant by the avfTToixin ribv ayadwv ? How is the argument affected by the division of good* into two classes 1 What are those classes 1 Give examples. If in different things the definition of their goodness differs, how do you account for the common name ? After all, what is the principal objection to the ideal theory ? If the idea existed, would it be practically useful 1 CHAP. YII. Explain the meaning of deliberate preference (TrpoaipKru). "By a different path our argument has arrived at the same point." Explain this. How many degrees of finality are there 1 Prove that happiness is final, "per se." and self-sufficient. Explain self-sufficiency. What is the epyov of any species. What, therefore, is the epyop- of man ? State the successive steps by which Aristotle builds uf \iis definition of happiness. Define happiness. iOa QUESTIONS TO THE [book », J'^xplain the meaning of j3ioQ TeXetoQ. By what methods are iii-st principles obtained ? Explain the meaning of the term induction, taking the Rhetoric as your authority. CHAP. VIIL What is Aristotle's object in quoting prevalent opinions on the subject of happiness ? State those mentioned by him. To what philosophers are they to be attributed ? To what sect of philosophers is the threefold division of goods due 1 What sect adopted this division ? What three qualities are combined in Aristotle's notion oi hap] )iness 1 (^uote the Delian inscription. How far is external prosperity necessary to happiness ? CHAP. IX. What three questions does Aristotle discuss as to tlie source of happiness 1 How does he settle that of its being of divine origin I Does this illustrate his practical turn of mind ? Why does it not come by chance 1 Prove that it is acquired by training. Why cannot brutes be called happy ? How far can children be called so 1 CHAP. X. In what sense is the happiness of the dead consistent -xiili Ai'istotle's theory 1 What idea would you form of Aristotle's opinion respect- ing the condition of man after death, from this or any other part > of his works 1 Quote any passages from ancient authors which embody the prevalent views on this subject. State the different steps in Aristotle's examination oi Solon's saying. CHAP. XIII. ] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. 2); What conclusion would you draw from this chapter gene- rally as to Aristotle's opinion of the relation between happi- ness and the accidents of fortune 1 What is the only source of wretchedness 2 Explain the expression iKariog Keyoprtyni^f-voQ. Distinguish between fxaKapiog and tvlaifiuyv. When we call men happy, with what reservation do we do so ? CHAP. XL What does Aristotle think of the degree in which the diad are affected by the good or ill-fortime of the living? Does he think that their happiness is increased or diminished thereby? How does he illustrate his opinion with reference to Greek tragedy ? Quote parallel passages from Horace and Cicero. CHAP. XIL To what class of things does happiness belong ? Can it be a capacity ? What are the characteristics of things praised 1 Can happiness be of the number of these 1 What objects are beyond praise ? What was Eudoxus's opinion 1 and how far did it agic^ with that of Aristotle ? Who was Eudoxus % Distinguish between praise and encomium. CHAP. XIII. Why is it requisite to inquire into the nature of viitue ? Why of human \Trtue 1 How does this lead to the necessity of an analysis of tlw nature of the soul 1 How far is the investigation to be carried ] How many parts are there of the soul ? Are these necessarily physically divisible ? What are they 1 f98 QUESTIONS TO THE [book lu What ai'c the subdivisions of the irrational part 1 With which of these is virtue concerned 1 Whence arises a doubt as to the manner in which tho division should be made 1 Draw out tabular views of the divisions according as you adopt one or other principle. Compare the Greek word \pvxri with the Latin words iniimis and anima. How does the division of the soul lead to a division of virtues 1 BOOK II. CHAP. I. How many kinds of virtues are there 1 How is each produced ? State the verbal argument of which Aristotle makes use here. Mention any other verbal arguments which he uses. Is the use of verbal arguments to be expected from the tenor of liis pliilosophy 1 By how many arguments does he prove that moral virtue is not a nat\iral gift ? State them, and give some of the examples which he adduces in illustration. Show how his argument bears on the question of education. CHAP. XL Show from examples the truth of Aristotle's assertion that this treatise is eminently practical. What does he mean by ov ^Fiwpiag tVe/ca tjairep ai ciXXai t What relation does right reason (ppBos Xoyog) bear to virtue generally 1 In what part of liis treatise does he enter upon the fciib- ject of right reason fully 1 Wliy is it more appropriate there than here 1 CHAP, v.] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. 299 Why should the discussion of the moral virtues pi"ecedo that of the intellectual ? Why is it unad^dsable to lay down particular rules of conduct '? Would it interfere with our moral responsibility 1 Show by example that what is right is destroyed by excess and defect. Show how the moral habits, and the means of forming them, act reciprocally on each other. CHAP. III. What are the tests of habits being perfected ? Prove that pleasures and pains are the object-matter of moral virtue. What Stoical doctrine respecting virtue is refuted in this chapter ? CHAP. IV. What objection might be brought to Aristotle's theory of the formation of moral habits 1 State his answers to this objection. (1.) By denying the fact. (2.) By denying the parallelism of the cases. What is the difference between the arts and the virtues ? Distiuguish between Trpdyfja and Tpd^tc. Show how the one may be right and the other wrong. Give examples. State the physical analogy by which Aristotle illustrates the uselessness of mere theorizing. CHAP. V. Define genus, species, differentia. Define and explain TrnOrj, ^uva^etc, e'^uc Prove that neither virtue nor vice can be a Tra&o';. Prove that they cannot be Iwuixhq. Wliat then is the genus of virtue ? What mode of reasoning is adopted in this chaj ter ? 800 QUESJTIONS TO THE [cook hi. CHAP. VI. VtlcLfi: is the signification of the term aptr// generally ? What as applied to man 1 How many kinds of means are there 1 Give examples of each. "Which is according to arithmetical proportion ? How does every one who possesses t7rtoT»/ju7j act with respect to the mean 1 Does the rule apply to both feelings and actions 1 From these considerations deduce the differentia of vui;ue. Apply the Pythagorean argument here mentioned to arrive at the same conclusion. From the previous steps derive the definition of virtue. Show how virtue can be both a mean and an extreme. Wliat actions and passions are incapable of a mean state ? CHAP. YIL Wliat advantage results from applying general statements to particular cases 1 What does Aristotle allude to when he uses the tenii ciaypa(t>i] 1 Apply the definition of virtue to the following particular cases : — (1.) Fear and confidence. (2.) Pleasures and pains. Giving and receiving. Honour and dishonour (greatV Honour and dishonour (small). Anger. The social virtues. (a.) Truth. (b.) Relaxation, (c.) Friendliness. Apply these statements to the cases of feelings. (a.) Shame, (b.) Indignation. CHAP. I.: NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. 301 CHAP. VIIL Explaii and illustrate tlie opposition between tlie mean and the extremes ; and between the extremes with regard to each other. Show that the mean is not always equi-distant from the extremes. How many reasons are there for this fact ? Blustrate one by the case of courage, and the oth^r l)y thfi case of temperance. CHJ^P. IX. Why is virtue difficult of acquirement, and excellence rare, praiseworthy, and honourable 1 State the practical rule which Aristotle here gives for attaining the mean. Quote the illustrative passage from the Odyssey. What practical rule will result from the knowledge of our natural propensity 1 What bias must we especially guard against 1 Quote the illustrative passage from the Iliad rcspeotir.g Helen. How much must after all be left to the moral sense ? BOOK III. CHAP. L Why is it necessary to consider the subject of the voiun. tary and involuntary ? Why is it useful to legislators to do so 1 How many kinds of involuntary actions are enumerated oy Aristotle f What other class is there which he has omitted 1 Explain and illustrate the meaning of the expression • mixed actions." S02 QUESTIONS TO THE [book in. Do mixed actions most resemble voluntary or involuntary actions 1 Why is this ? How many kinds of mixed actions are there ? What practical difficulty is there in judging of these actions 1 Show that things pleasant and honourable are not com- l)ulsory. What does Aristotle mean by non-voluntary actions 1 What place does repentance occupy in Aristotle's theory ? Explain the difference between ayi'o^y and ^l ayvoiar. When is ignorance pardonable, and when not 1 Define to tKovcrtor. Why are actions done through anger or desire voluntary t CHAP. II. Explain what is meant by deliberate preference ; show that it is the principle of aU moral action, and that it determines the character of every act. What are the erroneous views respecting it mentioned by Aristotle ? Prove that it is not — (1.) Desire. (2.) Anger. ^3.^ YoHtion. (4.) Opinion either general or paiiiicular. Give its real and nominal definitions. CHAP. III. Define what is the subject of deliberation. Enumerate the four things which cannot come within its sphere. About what matters then do we deliberate 1 What is meant by the illustration that the diagonal and the side of a square are incommensurable ? Wliy do we deliberate about the arts more than about the tciences 1 Are any arts excluded ? What division of the sciences did the Greeks adopt 1 CHAr. r.l IC0MA::HEAN ethics. SOS AVhich of these divisions may be made the subjects uf deliberation 1 What is the office of deliberation '( Are ends or means its matter 1 Describe the process of deliberation. When do we cease to deliberate 1 Apply the illustration given from Homer. Does this remind you of the psychical theoiy of Plato ? Define irpoaiptaiQ. CHAP. IV. What is the object of volition ? What are the difficulties in the way of determining this question ] Solve these difficulties. Compare the statement made respecting volition in Eiiet. I. X. ]\rention the physical analogies adduced here by Aristotle. How do good and bad men differ on this point 1 How does pleasure influence volition 1 CHAP. V. State Socrates's opinion respecting the freedom of the will. State the successive steps in the argument by which Ai'is- totle proves that vice is voluntary. What does the conduct both of legislators and individuals lu'ove respecting their opinions on this question ? What does Bishop Butler say on this point in his chapter on Necessity 1 Does the way in which ignorance is treated sapp^rt Aristotle's yiew l How is .irunkenness and ignorance of the law dealt with ? What is the effect of wilful sin on the moral sense '? To what conclusion does this effect lead us in judging of confirmed habits of vice ? State any physical analogies in support of Aristotle's doctrine. Answer the objection "that men have no control over 501 QUESTIONS TO THE [book hi. their imaginations, and therefore are not responsible for their opinions." Answer the objection " that the aiming at the end ia not a matter of choice." Show that such arguments prove too much. Are acts and habits voluntaiy in the same manner or degree ? CHAP. YI. Why does Aristotle discuss courage an 1 temperance in this part of his treatise ? On what subjects is courage a mean state 1 Has courage reference to evils of all kinds 1 What kinds are excluded ? Why then is a man called brave with reference to these 1 Are there any evils, which it is our duty not to fear, in which, nevertheless, a man is not called brave 1 Are there any which a brave man ought to fear 1 In what cases then will the bi-ave man show courage ? In what kinds of deaths especially 1 Does Aristotle take notice of moral coui*age 1 What does Aristotle say of the courage of sailors ? CHAP. VIL How many divisions are there of otepa than ^appaXia. Show (1) that it is tTriXvirov. Show (2) that it is more difficult to acquire than tem- perance. Is a brave man less brave for feeling pain % Is he more so for that reason ? How far does energizing with pleasure belong to all the viiiiues? CHAP. X. To what part of the soul do courage and temperance belong ] Define temperance and intemperance. How many divisions of pleasure does Aiistotle make ? S06 QUESTIONS TO THE [book iv. Give examples of each. State the subdivisions of the coi-poreal pleasures. With what class of pleasures is temperance conversant ? Analyze the argument by which Aristotle arrives at this conclusion. How is Aristotle's theory illustrated by the case of bi-ute animals ? Wliat distinction does Aristotle draw between the plea- sures of touch, and to which does he limit the province of intemperance ? CHAP. XI. State the di\'isio]is of i7ri0v/.uai. In wliich of these is eiTor rare, and in which frequent ? How far may both these classes of desires be said to be natui-al ? How is the temperate man affected with regard to plcasui-es 1 How witli regard to pains 1 In this latter respect, distinguish between the temperate and the courageous man . Why has the \Tice in the defect -with respect to pleasure no name 1 Describa the character of the temperate man. CHAP. XII. Which is more voluntary, intemperance or cowardice ? State the reasons. Draw a distinction in both cases between the voluntariness of the habit and of the particular acts. What analogy is there between uKoXaffla and the faults cf children 1 What does Aristotle mean by an obedient and disciplined etate ? What rides does he give for attaining this state I CHAP, i.l NirOMACHEAN ETHICS. 301 BOOK IV. CHAP. I. Define liberality. Show the correctuess of tliis definition. Define property. What are the excess and defect of this -sirtne ? Is the term jirodigaHty used in more senses than one "f Is liberaHty sliown more in giving or in receiving 1 Account for this. For what \irtue are those who abstain from receiving improperly rather commended ? What is the motive of the liberal man 1 In what manner will he exercise this virtue 1 Is the man who gives with pain a liberal man ? Btate some of the characteristics of the liberal man. (1.^ In respect to receiving. (2.) In respect to giving. In relation to what must we judge of a man's liberality ? Illustrate the answer to this question by examples. What is Ai'istotle's opinion of those who make their own fortunes 1 Is it easy for a liberal man to do so 1 Distinguish between the Uberal and prodigal man. (1.) In giving. (2.) In receiving. Can monarchs be prodigal 1 In what cases would the liberal man feel pain ? Why is Simonides used as an illustration of this subject 1 Define and compare togetlier prodigality and illiberality. Why are both characteristics of prodigality seldom found in the same person 1 Why is the prodigal man thought better than tlie illiberal? Which does most hann socially, the miser or the spend- thrift? 7 2 SOS QTTKSTIOXS TO THE [book iv. Si^^ate some of the principal peculiarities in the cliaractei of tlie prodigal man. Account for the union of profiiseness and illiberality in the same person. Why is illiberality incurable 1 Mention the different modes of illiberality. Ai'e all called illiberal who receive gain from improper sources 1 What distinctions then do you make 1 CHAP. II. Define magnificence. Show in what it difiers from liberality. Show, by reference to the public duties of an Athenian citizen, the great importance of this virtue. Give an account of the Athenian Xeirovpyiau On what does propriety depend ? Name tlie excess and defect. Does magnificence imply eTricrTfifxr) ? What is the motive 1 Give examples of public and private magnificence. Can a poor man be magnificent ? Describe the characters of the fiavavtrog and fiiKpoTrpsTrlic. What is the parode of a comedy ? Why are the Megareans introduced as an example here ? CHAP. III. What is the object-matter of magnanimity ? Does Aristotle examine this virtue in the absti-act or the concrete ? Does he pursue the same plan in any other cases 1 Define the magnanimous man. Define the modest man. Name and define the excess and defect. Contrast heathen and Christian magnanimity. Mention examples of both. Give some illustrations of the idea which the Greeks had of personal beauty. Show how taste and the idea of beauty enter into theii moral system. CHAP, v.: NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. 309 Distinguish between rifii) and to kuXoi', In wliat way is the magnanimous man com-ersant with •^ifit) 'i What does Aristotle mean by saying that magnanimity IS KuafiOQ tCjv upsTioy 1 State some peculiarities in the character of the magnani- mous man : — (1.) As to honour. (2.) As to wealth. (3.^ As to courage. (4.) As to liberality. (5.) As to asking favours. {G.\ As to seeking honoiu\ (7.) As to truth. (8.) As to friendship. (9.) As to manners and conduct. (10.) As to his gait, speech, &c. Why are magnanimous men thought supercilious ? How does good fortune contribute to magnanimity 1 Wliat is the meaning of eipcovda 1 Is tlie magnanimous man ever eipiov 1 Describe the fjtLKpo^lv^ocj and the "^avvog. Which is most opposed to the mean, and which is worse ^ CHAP. lY. What virtue is there which has to do with the san v. habit as the former ? Has Aristotle treated of it before ? What relation does it bear to magnanimity ? Illustrate this by refeiTing to liberaHty. Whence arises +,he difficulty of assigning a name to this viiiiue 1 Wliy do the extremes assume the appearance of the mean % CHAP. Y. Define meekness, and name the extremes. Describe the character of the meek. Is the defect blamed 1 Show that the excess takes place in all the categunea 310 ttUESTTOSS TO THE [noou v. How many species are there of the excess 1 Name them, and distinguish between them. Which extreme is furthest from the mean ? What milder tei-ms do we apply to slight transgressions ? How must the extent and nature of transgression ho decided 1 CHAr. VI. Show, from what is known of Athenian life and manners, the importance of treating of the social virtues. Name the extremes. Will the term " politeness " designate the mean habit 1 Distinguish between the mean and friendship. What is the end and aim of the polite 1 Within what limits will he aim at giving pleasure 1 Distinguish between ijdvg a.nd iiotaKoc. CHAP. VII. Describe the truthful chariicter, and also the excess and defect. In what limited sense is the tei-m truthfulness here used ? Is tmthfulness more shown in mattei*s of great or of Jittle moment 1 Distinguish between him who makes pretensions with, and him who makes them without a motive. Show the possible connection between false modesty and orrogance. (xive examples. Which is the worst of the two extremes ? CHAP. YIII. Name and describe the social virtue in periods of relax- ation. What is the etymological meaning of the term evrpa-n-eXla Name and describe the extremes. Why does one extreme sometimes gf.t the credit of being the mean ? What do you mean by tact ? CHAi'. I.] iXlCOMACHEAN ETHICS. 311 Contrast the chai'acter, in respect to tMs virtue, of the educated and uneducated. How is this difference ilhistrated by Athenian comedy 1 What considerations mil regulate the behaviour of him who jests with propriety '? Distinguish between the three social virtues. CHAP. IX. Define sense of shame. Is it a passion or a habit ? To what period of life is it especially becoming 1 Show that a sense of shame is no part of the character oi a good man. In what sense is shame a worthy feeling 1 What kind of virtue is continence ? Where does he speak of it more fully ? BOOK V. CHAP. I. State Plato's theory of universal justice. Show how far the views of Plato and Aristotle on the subject of justice coincide. Define justitia expletrix and justitia attributrix. When the latter of these is termed distributive justice, is the expression used in Aristotle's sense 'I In what way has Aristotle treated the subject of jiasticr in the Phetoric 1 How does he investigate the subject here ? Define justice and injustice. What point of difference does Aristotle speak of as exist- ing between capacities, sciences, and habits ? Does this furnish us with a means of ascertaining tlie nature of habits ? In how many senses are the terms just and unjust used ? Why is it diificult to distinguish between them ] 512 QUESTIONS TO THE [bc^ok v State and explain these senses. Distinguish between bfxojwfxa and awoipufxcu What is the object of laws ? Show that universal justice is perfect virtue, not al«so- lutely, but relatively. Show the difference between universal justice and perfect virtue. CHAP. II. "Why is particular justice the object of Aristotle's inves- tigation 1 Show how universal injustice differs from particular. Show that all acts of particular injustice may be teimed «icts of TrXeoi'E^ia. What are the subdivisions of particular justice 1 How many sorts of transactions are there ? Give examples of each. CHAT. III. Show that a just act implies four terms at least. Of what will those terms consist ? Which justice is Aristotle here considering ? According to what projiortion is it ? How many sorts of geometrical proportion are there 2 Which kind is here spoken of 1 CHAP. lY. Show that in corrective justice arithmetical proportion Ja to be observed. How far are the persons to be considered ? In tliis justice, what is " the just " a mean between f In what sense is the judge a mean 1 How is the mean determined 1 What is the etymology of ciKaiov I Illustrate Aristotle's theory by a diagi'am. Account for the use of tho terra loss and gain. CHAK viu.J NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. 313 CHAP. V. Wliat was the Pyiiliagorean notion of justice ? Is it a correct one ? Show the difference between commutative justice and distributive and corrective justice. Show the necessity of observing analogy. Explain, and illustrate by examples and by a diagram, the meaning of the expression " diametrical conjunction." Prove the necessity, in dealings between man and man, of a common measure of value. What is that common measure, and what its representative ? Why is money called vojXKT^a ? What is the use of money with reference to future exchange ? Is money, strictly speaking, an invariable standard ? In what respect does justice differ from the other virtues 1 Define injustice. CHAP. VL Distinguish between moral and political justice. Show that, according to the principles of political justice, an unjust act does not necessarHy imply moral injustice. How far does the idea of justice enter into the relations of masters and servants, parents and children, &c. % CHAP. VIL What are the divisions of political justice ? Explain and illustrate each of them. Prove the existence of natural justice, and refute the objections. Distinguish between adUijua and adiicoy, also between CiKaicjfia, diKaior, and ^ticaiOTrpayrjfia. CHAP. VIIL What determines the justice and injustice of an act ? How does Aristotle here define and explain tl\e t^rw voluntary ]" 814 QUESTIONS TO THE [book vi How many kinds of /5\«^ot are there I Is Aristotle's division quite correct 1 State tliem, and give the corresponding T^tin terms. Describe and give examples of arux'?/«t> ufxdprriixaf and Are acts done through anger unjust 1 Give Aristotle's definition of anger in the Rhetoric. Distinguish between human passions and natui'al appetites. Are acts done under the influence of these pardonable or unpardonable 1 CHAP. IX. Can a man be injured with Ids own consent 1 Is a man always injured when unjustly dealt with ? Can a man injure liimself ? Illustrate this question by the case of Glaucus. Does the giver of too much, or the receiver, commit the act of injustice 1 Refute the following common eiTors : — (1.) That as to act unjustly is always in our power, to act justly is so likewise. (2.) Tliat it is easy to know what is Just and what is unjust. (3.) That a just man can do an act of injustice. In what sense does Aristotle use the expression cnrXioQ ayuda here 1 CHAP. X. Distinguish between justice and equity. How has Aristotle treated the subject of equity in th« Rhetoric 1 Siiow that justice and equity are not opposed. Define equity, and show its superiority to justice. In what does law fail of its object ? Wliy does it fail ] AVhat is the use of equity ? Define the equitable man. Exp.ain the proverb " Summum jus, sunima injuria.** CHAP. i.J NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. M5 CHAP. XL Frove tlia'; ci man cannot injure liimself. ^1.^ In universal justice. (2.) In paiiiicular justice. According to the principles of Greek law, " Quce lex non jubet vetat ;" according to those of ours, " Qune lex non vetat permittit ;" account for this difference. Why is it worse to do, than to suffer injustice 1 Can the contrary be true accidentally 1 Does this consideration come within the province oi science 1 Show that metajihorically a man can injure himself. BOOK VI. CHAP. I. What is Aristotle's object in treating of the intellectual virtues ? What course does he consequently pursue 1 Why is it necessary to examine the nature of updug \6yor ? Define right reason. What connection is there between right reason and prudence 1 Show from Aristotle's theory of the relation of reason to virtue, the practical superiority of his system to that of Plato and Socrates. Whence arises the difficulty of examining the nature ol right reason ? Divide the rational soul according to the matter wiLl» which it is conversant. In this division, in what sense is Xoyoc used 1 How are genus and differentia ascertained 1 Distinguish between subjectum materiale and subjectuiu foi-male 5H QUESTIONS TO THE [book vi. CHAP. IL Name the three principles wliich influence moral action tud truth. AA''hich of these is the principle of moral action ? In what sense are vovq and ciavoia here used 1 Distinguish between vovq and ctavoia. How do we discover the virtue of each part of the soul ? Show that truth is the 'ipyov of both parts. Explain the relation which subsists between liaroia^ xrpouipeaiQ, and ope^ig in moral action. What matter comes within the province of dehberation ? CHAP. IIL Name the five intellectual habits. Why are supposition and opinion excluded ? Arrange these habits in a table, according to then* matter. How many kinds of necessity are there accorduig to Aristotle 1 Distinguish between them. How is science acquired ? From what two sources is all learning derived ? Explain syllogism and induction. Define science. CHAP. IV. How many kinds of contingent matter are there ? Distinguish between -Koirjaic and irpd^iQ. With what three processes is art conversant ? Explain the connection between art and chance. Define ri\vrj and ure^ria. CHAP. V. By what process does Aristotle arrive at ih(i inv^estigatioii cf 0p6vrj(TlQ 1 In what other cases has he pursue! a similar one 1 State the characteristics of the prident man. CHAP, vin ^ NICOMACHEAN t.THICS. 317 Distinguish between (I)p6prt(ng and ETntrrtifirj. Define it really and nominally. Support Aristotle's definition by reference to general ojjinion. Show the moral effect of intemperance. Has intemperance any effect upon science 1 What is the difference between prudence and art ? Of what part of the soul is prudence the virtue 1 "Which part does Aristotle here term to do^acrriKop ? Why are virtuous energies more stable than those ol science ? Has Aristotle alhided to this fact before ? CHAP. VI. With what is rove conversant ? Give Aristotle's definitions both here and in the magua moralia. Show that the habit Trepl apx'^v cannot be science or art, or prudence or wisdom. What kind of reasoning is this called 1 CHAP. YII. What does (To0/a signify when applied to the arts ? What is its general signification ? Give instances of different applications of the term. How many kinds of ao(pia are there ? Prove that it is the most accurate of all the sciences. Of what two intellectual habits is it composed 1 How does it differ from (ppdyrjcrtg ? Why is it practically important to establish this difference i Show how it differs from the political science. Support the distinction di-awn between wisdom and pru- dence by reference to general opinion. Show that prudence has to do with particulars as well as universals. CHAP. YIII. How far are prudence and the political science similiii iiid how far do they differ 1 $18 QUESTIONS TO THE [book vi. Name tlie different species of prudence. Exhibit them in a table. Can the prudence which relates to the individual be really separated from the other kinds 1 Why can a young man be (TO(f)6c, but not p6vi/jiOQ 1 Show how pi-udence differs from science and intuition. Wliat does Aristotle liere mean by ru taxaroy 1 Wliat fjiculty takes cognizance of these 'i^xfiTa 1 CIIAP. IX. What relation do deliberation and investigation bear to one another 1 Show that ei/GovXia is not — (1.) Science. (2.) Happy conjecture. Show what kind of an opdoTTjg it is. In how many ways may correctness be predicfttcd ? Oive Aristotle's definition of eh^ovXia. CHAP. X. Show that intelligence is neither science nor opiiiiou. With what subjects is it conversant ? How does it differ from prudence 1 AVhat is its province 1 Is it exactly synonymous with judgment or not 1 CHAP. XI. Define candour, and distinguish it from intelUgence. Define avyyviofxr], and state in what its correctness consists. Explain the connection between candour and other intel- ioctual habits. Compare the sense in wliich vovq is used here ydih. that in wliich it has been used pre\'iously. Is there any inconsistency in this twofold use of the term 1 Explain the expression avXXuyi(Ti.ioQ rwv ^patcrCjv. Show that the minor premiss is the origin of the motive. Explain why the habits liere discussed have been held to be natural. Show the importance of attention to authority CBAi'. xiii.T NlCOM.iCHEAN ETHHS 319 CHAP. XII. State tlie objections wliich have been urge I to the utility of wisdom and prudence. What is meant by the objection that wisdom relates to no act of generation or production 1 State the argument on wliich the objections are founded. (1.) That prudence is useless to one who has virtue. (2.) That it is so to one who has not yet attained it. What illustration is here adduced ? In how many senses is vyiewdy used ? In which of these significations is it used here 1 What objection is founded on the relative importance of Misdom and prudence 1 Refiite these objections. (1.) By showing that even if that which is alleged be granted, still the objection will not hold good. (2.) By denying the allegation altogether. Prove that prudence is inseparable from moral virtue. Show the usefulness of prudence as regards the tpyor. Explain what is meant by ceiporqc, state its relation to ii BOOK VII CHAP. I. Explaiu the difference in the mode cf treating the subject of vdi'tue and vice here, and in the former books. Name the three things to be avoided in respect of morals, and also their opposites. Amongst whom is brutality chiefly found 1 What virtues and vices does Aristotle here propose to speak of ? In what manner does he propose to treat of them ? State the seven common opinions which he proposes for discussion. CHAP. II. Wliat was Socrates's opinion respecting incontinence ? Trace this opinion to the theory of virtue. Show that his system is at variance with what we see. How have some people endeavoured to modify the views of Socrates ? Befiite the doctrine that the incontinent man possesses only opinion, and not knowledge. Prove that he cannot possess prudence. Prove that continence and intemperance are incompatible. Prove that continence does not make a man abide l^y every opinion. How docs the case of Neoptolemus illustrate this 1 Explain the sophistical argument xpevcojjieyoQ, and show how it is applicable as an illustration here. Show that, on the supposition that the continent abides by eveiy opinion, the intemperate is better and more eaeily cured than the incontinent. What observation doer Aristotle make on the sevei^tli opinion enumerated 1 CBAP-n.] MCOMACIIRAN ETHICS. 821 CHAP. III. State the three questions which Aristotle here es]->ecially proposes for investigation. What two points does he consider it necessary first to determine 1 State the comparison which he draws between the intem- perate and the incontinent as the result of tliis investigation. Why does it not matter whether a man acts contrary to a true opinion or to science 1 Illustrate this from the example of Heraclitus. Explain fully the four ways in which the incontinent acts contrary to knowledge. Explain what is meant by the expressions ro kuOoXov kt\ia. Prove that when the good love their friend, they love that which is good to themselves. CHAP. VI. Can the old and ill-tempered feel evvoia 1 Why can you not entertain true friendship for a gi'eat number, whereas you can entertain the two other kinds? Which of the two false kinds most resembles the true 1 Why is this the case 1 Which friendship do the happy and prosperous need ? How are men in power influenced in their choice of friends 1 What considerations will regulate the friendship between a good man and a great man 1 CHAP. VII. Show that in the friendships hitherto treated o^ equality between the parties has been considered. Give instances of unequal friendships. In these friendships, what will insure permanence 1 Between parties who are unequal, on which side will the feeling be the stronger ? What contrast does Aristotle here draw between justiofl and friendslii}) t CHAP. X.] NICOiMACHFAN ETHICS. 327 Show tLat even between persons unequal, equality ni Rome sense must be produced. Illustrate this by the case of the gods and of kings. What question has aiisen from the fact, that friendship ceases in cases of great inequality 1 CHAP. YIIL In our opinions of friendship, are we influenced by the desire of honour ? Is friendship generally thought to consist most in being the object of friendship or in feeling the sentiment 1 How is this opinion supported by the case of mothers ? Why is there stability in the friendship of the good, and instability in that of the wicked ? Show that friendship cia tv xpriaijxov is produced by the existence of contrary qualities. CHAP. IX. What is the relation which subsists between justice and friendship 1 How is justice affected by the degree of friendship 1 What is the principal object of political or civil society? Show that all associations or communions are parts of this. Illustrate by examples what is meant by KoivMviai. Show that corresponding friendships will accompany these several Koivwviai. CHAP. X How many kinds of political constitutions are there ? How many corruptions of them ? Name them all, and state which are the best and worst. Give a definition of each, and state what is the end and object of each. Compare the theory here given v/ith that given in the Rhetoric, and account for the difference between them. Explain how each of the forms passes ?nto its corresponding oiTuption. 328 QUESTIONS TO THE [book ix. Gire the paraJels to those forms of gcvemment which exist in private life. CHAP. XI. Show at greater length the parallelism between the justice and friendship which exists in each form of government and that which exists in the corresponding cases in private life. Can friendship and justice exist in a despotism 1 Can they exist at all, and if at all, how far, between ii master and a slave 1 Compare on these points despotisms and democracies. CHAP. XII. On what does the friendship which subsists between rela- tions depend ? Compare the grounds, motives, and degrees of filial and parental affection. Why is the affection of mothers stronger than that of fathera 1 What is the origin of fraternal love 1 Why does it resemble that between companions 1 What is the law of variation in friendship between rela- tions 1 Why does the fiiendship between relations include more of the i)^v and -^piiaLnov than any others? What is the origin of conjugal love or friendship 1 On what is it based ? On what grounds does Aristotle consider children a bond of union between mamed persons 1 CHAP. XIII. In wldch kind of equal friendships do disputes mostly ai'ise ! For what reason 1 Why are friends lia to ayuQov not inclined to complain 1 Why are disputes unusual between friends lik to i]lv 1 What are the subdivisions of friendship lia to xp'/ct/ior l Sliow how they differ from each other, especially as regarda the question of disputes. -iUKv. I.] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. 329 "WTiat rule does Aristotle lay down to gui^e iis in recog- aizing an obligation ? Is tlie standard of obligation to be the benefit conferred on the receiver, or the benevolence of the doer 1 How is this question to be answered in the case of friend- sldps dia TO ayadov 1 CHAP. XIY. Whence do complaints originate in unequal friendships 1 What is the \iew taken by the superior 1 What argument is used by the inferior 1 How does Aristotle settle the question between the two parties ? How does he illastrate it by the practice of states ? What rules does he lay down to regulate the intercourse of unequal friends 1 What observations result from the above \'iew of the subject respecting the parental and filial relations ? BOOK IX. CHAP. I. What is it which preserves and renders equal unequal fiiendships ? Give an illustration of this. In the friendsliip of lovei's, what complaints arise ? On what is this friendship founded, and therefore why ia it liable to be dissolved, whereas the friendsliip founded on moral qualities is permanent ? What case of complaint is illustrated by the story of the musician 1 Who then is to fix the rate of compensation 1 What is said to have been the practice of Protagoras ? What does Aristotle say was the practice of the sophists^ and why was it so ? What rule must be obser^-ed when no previous agreement has been made ? M30 QUESTIONS TO THE [book ix. Why must the same rule be observed between teacher and pupil? What rule must be observed in cases where the expecta- tion of a return is avowed ? On what piinciples should the receiver estimate the value of what he has received 1 CHAP. II. Give examples of other questions wliich arise in connectioi. with this subject. Sliow in what consists the diflBculty of settling them. Does the rule " to be just before you are generous " admit of exceptions 1 State what they are, and examine them. Show (1) that diflferent persons have different claims, according to the relation in which they severally stand to us : and (2) that duties and obligations differ in the same way. Give examples. Does any difficulty arise from this circumstance 1 How should we meet the difficulty 1 CHAP. III. On what grounds may friendships be dissolved 1 Under what circumstances might a man justly complain of another for dissolving a friendsliip 1 What is the common source of disagreement between friends ? What may we do in the case of being deceived as to character ? What is an absolute duty in such a case 1 What is to be done if one party improves morally, and the other continues imchanged 1 CHAP. IV. Describe the relation wliich friendship bears to self-love. State the definitions which are commonly given of a friend. CHAP, vn.] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. 331 Show that a good man entertains all these characteristic feelings towards himself. What does Aristotle say, with reference to this subject, of the intellectual principle in man ? How does he illustrate liis view by reference to the case )f a god 1 Why is a good man fond of self-communion 1 Does Aristotle enter into the question of whether a man :an be a fidend to himself? What objection may be urged to Aristotle's theory 1 How may it be answered ? Why cannot a bad man sympathise with, or be a friend to himself? ^Vhat is consequently our duty 1 CHAP. Y. Show that good-will is neither friendship nor fondness. Describe what it is, and illustrate by the case of pleasure as connected with love. Show that it is necessary to friendship. What may it be called metaphorically ? Into which species of friendship may it be improved 1 Why does it not become either of the other two 1 What is the origin in all cases of good-will ? CHAP. YI. Distinguish between unanimity and oneness of opinion. To agreement on what subjects does the latter term apply 1 In what cases is the former tenn used 1 Illustrate it from politics, and from the Phoenissse, Define unanimity, and prove your definition. Amongst whom alone can it exist ? Why is it never found among the wicked ? CHAP. YIl. Compare the feelings of benefactors, and those whom they have benefited. 332 QUESTIONS TO THE [book ix Is the resul. such as might have been expected ? How do most persons account for the existence of this result ? What would Epicharmus say of the account thus given ? What does Aristotle consider the true account 1 Illust 'ate his view by the cases of poets and artisans. By hew many arguments does Aristotle prove his point ? State them all in order. CHAP. VUL "What is the reason that self-love is blamed ? Distinguish between reasonable self-love and selfishness. What does Bishop Butler say respecting self-love ? Show that fiicts contradict the view that self-love is always wrong. Quote the proverbs which Aristotle adduces in support of his view. Does the difference of opinion on this subject arise from the term self-love being used in different senses 1 What is self-love understood to mean when it is blame- able ? Is this the sense in which the tenn is geuerally used ? In what sense, however, is the term more correctly used ? Prove that this is the case. In order to this, show that the intellectual principle constitutes each man's self. What advantage results to society from real self-love ? Show that self-love is an absolute duty. In cases of self-sacrifice, what motive acts upon our self- love ? How ^vill this motive lead the gonk- 'sure 1 CHAP. II. What was the opinion of Eudoxns ? What were the grounds of it ? How does he argue in favour of it ? State his four arguments in support of his views. What was the reason that his views found favour 1 What objection is first made to his theory ? Is there any similarity between this argument and that bj which Plato proves that pleasure is not the chief good ? How may the objection to the first position of Eudoxus be answered 1 CHAP. III. How many objections are made to his second position ? — What are they 1 Answer the first by a counter objection, and the second, by drawing a distinction between pleasures. What is the objection on the groimd that pleasure is n motion and a generation 1 How many kinds of motion are there, according to Aris- totle 1 Answer the objection, by proving that pleasure is neither a motion nor a generation. Prove that pleasure is not a supplying a deficiency. Suppose base pleasures are brought foi^ward, how would you answer this ? Support your argument by analogy. What further illustrations may be adduced in support of the assertions, (1) that pleasure is not the chief good ; (2) that neither every eligible thing is pleasant, nor evoiy pleasure eligible 1 CHAP. IV. Explaii what is meant by oXoy n, by the exaDii.lc o^ Sight. 436 QUESTIONS TO THE [book x. Prove, then, tliat pleasure is a whole. Show that for tliis reason it differs iiom a motion or a generation. Give an illustration derived from arcliitecture. Give another, taken from the different kinds of motions. In order to get at Aristotle's theory of pleasure, describe what he means by the best energy. Prove that pleasure makes the energy perfect, and state the way in which it does so. Explain how it is that we cannot feel pleasure continuously. Prove that the love of pleasure is the consequence of the love of life. Does Aristotle here enter upon the question whether we choose life for the sake of pleasure, or pleasure for the sake of life? CHAP. V. In proving, that pleasures differ in species, show (1.) That they perfect different productions and different energies. (2.) That each energy is increased by its proper plea- sures. (3.) That the pleasures resulting from one kind of energy are a hinderance to other energies. If we are engaged in two different energies at the same time, what becomes of the least pleasant ? When are we inclined to engage in two occupations at once ] Compare the effect of pleasures which are foreign to any energy with the pains proper to it ; and give an example in illustration. How are we to estimate the qualities of pleasures ? AVliich are most closely connected with the energies, the pleasures which attend thereon, or the desires which originate them i Compare in point of purity the various pleasures of the intellect and the senses. Show that different men, and the same men imder dif- ferent circumstances, entertain different ideas of pleasure. Describe then fiiUy time pleasure, and show how Aristotle mvestigates its nature. CHi.p.vui.j NICOMACHEAN ETHICS. 39; CHAP. VI, WTiy does Aristotle now retiun to the discussion of the snibject of happiness 1 What does he say that happiness is not ? and why so 1 What division does he make of energies 1 To which of these classes does happiness belong 1 Are any other energies besides virtuous energies eligible fiu their own sakes ? Are amusements of this number 1 How comes it that amusements are sometimes mistaken for happiness ? Prove that amusement does not constitute happiness. Prove that in reality amusement is not eligible for itso^in sake. Why cannot bodily pleasure constitute happiness ? CHAP. YTI. Show that happiness must be an energy of the best pait of our nature, whatever that be. Prove that this energy is (1) contemplative, (2) continuouii. (3) self-sufficient, (4) eligible for its own sake, (5) consisfceat •vith a state of perfect rest. What energies are inconsistent with the idea of rest I Show that the quaHties above mentioned are united in the energy of the intellect, and in no other. Why is the condition iv /3/w reXelu) added ? How far may men be considered capable of enjoying Siuxh happiness ? What, then, must be our earnest endeavour, if we would possess this happiness ? Prove that this happiness is most proper to man. CHAP. VIII. • How far is moral virtue productive of happiness ? Does moral virtue depend at all upon a man's ph)Tvic&l constitution 1 Show the superiority of intellectual to moral virtue as regards external goods. z S38 QUESTIONS TO THE Lbook x. How does the example of the gods support Aristotle's view? How does the case of the lower animals support it ? On what, then, will the degree of happiness depend ? But though contemplative happiness is independent of external goods, are they necessary to man 1 To what extent are they necessary ? What argument may be drawn from the virtues observable in different classes of society 1 Compare Aristotle's statements with those of Solon and Anaxagoras. Although the opinions of the wise are evidences in Axistotle's favour, still what is the grand test ? Who is likely to be the greatest favourite of the gods 1 CHAP. JX. What is the general object of this chapter ] What is the proper end of all ethical investigations ? In what do moral precepts fail, and how far are they useful 1 What motive has the strongest influence over the masses 1 By how many means is it supposed that men are made virtuous ? How many of these are in our Dower 1 To what influence does Aristotle attribute natural gifts 1 Is any predisposition to virtue absolutely necessary, in order to learn 1 How is that to be acquired 1 Show the importance of a national system of education. Is this system to be confined to the young, or to be far more comprehensive 1 Hence, what views have been held respecting the duties of legislators in this respect 1 Why is the authority of law preferable to the paternal authority 1 Has any state laid down laws to enforce education ? If the state neglects this duty, what subject mnst private individuals study, in order to educate successfully ? What are the ad^ajitages of a system of private education over a public one 1 CHAP. IX.] NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 359 Does this also show the importance of tlie kuowleclge of the principles of legislation ? Whence is this knowledge to be obtained 1 To whom would the student apply in vain 1 Why so ? Show the importance of a practical acquaintance with the subject. State the errors into which the sophists have fallen; Although collections of laws will not do everything, how far are they useful 1 Why is it necessary for Aristotle to investigate the subject oi legislation 1 How does this lead him to undertake a treatisa oti INDEX TO ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. Accidental injur*««, 138. Accidents, how far they affect happi- ness, 25. Actions, voluntary, involuntary, and mixed, 54, and n. ; done from ^vfioQ and kiriOvfiia, ib. iEschylus, 48. Affection resembles production, 248. Agathon, 156. Ambition, 48. Anacharsis, 277. Analysis, 6, n. Anaxagoras, 162, 284. Anaxandrides, 200. Anger, 139 ; natural, 192. Antigone, 135, n. Appetite, 31. Argives, mistake of the, 78. Arguments firom principles, and vice versa, 6. Aristocracy, 221. Aristotle's system compared with Plato's, 1, w.; most practical, 5,«.; reconciled with others, 18 ; poli- tics, 292 ; idea of the soul after death, 23, n. ; antagonistic to as- ceticism, 255, n. Arrogance, 48, 110. Art, with what conversant, 156 Asceticism, 255, n. Authority, 170. >vpio», 112, 113. 'Ayxivoia, 166. 'AcsKacTToi, 52, n. \'af)n(n^, 152, 170. AKoKaaia, 85. ' AKpoxoXoQ, its derivation, 105. 'Ai'dXyriTOi, 73. 'ApetTKoi, 107. ' ApfTTj, 43, n. "Apiaroi, 119. 'Arvxrijia, aftdpTrnia, and idUri^m differ, 139. AvrdpKeia, 15. B. Bashfulness, 49. Benefactors love more tJian thoir benefited, 247. Blessed, how applicable to man, 2C ; to the gods, 28. Brasidas, 135, and n. Brave men, how fearless, 73 ; do^ fined, ib. : their excesses and de- fects, ib. Brutality, 178, 189, et seq., 19». Brutes not happy, 22 ; nor ia90r\> tinent, 85. Butler, 39, n. : 283, n. "Ravavtrfa, 93. 'BavKCTra%'OvpyoQ, 111, «- BiaioQ, 8, ». BXagat, 139. B(i;/ioXoxoi, 112. 113. 34! INDEX. Callisthenes, 101, n. Calypso, 52. Candour, 168. Capacities, 41. Carcinus, 195. Casuistic ethics, 236, n. Categories, 11, n. Catiline, 91, n. Celts, their bravery, 73. Chance not the cause of happines8,21 . Children, a bond of union, 227. Cicero, 13, n.; 41, n. Cleverness, 173 ; not identical with prudence, ib. Clownishness, 49. Comedy, the old and new, 113. Complaisance to excess, 49. Compulsory actions, 56. Contemplative life most divine, 280, 283. Continence, 115 ; different from pa- tience, 193 ; contingent matter, 154. Correctness, how used, 166. Courage, 46, 70 ; moral, 71 ; when shown by the brave, ib. ; not in all kinds of death, t*. ; five spuri- ous kinds of, 74 — 78 ; conversant with tA (poiepd, 79. Cretans, 29. Cube, man compared to a, 25. Cyclops, 288. Cynics, 38, n. XapievTig, 7, n. D. Dead, whether affected by the condi- tion of the living, 26. Death the most fearful of things, 71. Defect, 35. Delian inscription, 20. Deliberation, its subjects, 61, 62 ; concerning means, 63 ; differs from investigation, ib. ; not concerning ends, 64 ; differs from deliberate preference, ib. ; how limited, 162 ; good, 165, 167. Democracy, 221, 222 ; favourable to friendships, 224. Demodocus, 197. Desires twofold, 82 ; rules concern. ing the, 85. Diagrams, 46, 62, 125, 127, 129. Diametrical conjunction, 129. Dionysius, 234, n. Due to be given to all, 237. AaXot, 73. Aid6cd. Agassiz & Gould's Comparative Phy- siology, sj. Alfleri's Tragedies. Trans, by Bowring. 2 vols. 3J. td. each. Alford's Queen's English, u. & xs. 6d. Allen's Battles of the British Navy. 2 vols. $s. each. Ammianus Marcelllnus. Trans, by C. D. Yonge. -js. 6d. Andersen's Danish Tales. Trans, by Caroline Peachey. y. Antoninus (Marcus Aurelius). Trans. by George Long. 3J. 6d. Apollonius Rhodius. The Argonautica. Trans, by E. P. Coleridge. $s. Apuleius, The Works of. 5J. Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. Trans, by W. S. Rose. 2 vols. 5J. each. Aristophanes. Trans, by W. J. Hickie. 2 vols. 5J. each. Aristotle's Works. 5 vols, 5^. each ; 2 vols, 3 J. 6d. each. Arrian. Trans, by E. J. Chinnock. 55. Ascham's Scholemaster. (J. E. B, Mayor.) is. Bacon's Essays and Historical Works, y. 6d. ; Essays, is. and is. 6d. ; Novum Organum, and Advancement of Learning, y. Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry. By Robert EeU. y. 6d. ss's Lexicon to the Greek Test. 2s. Bax's Manual of the History of Philo- sophy. 5.r. Beaumont & Fletcher. Leigh Hunt's Selections, 3^. 6d. Bechstein's Cage and Chamber Birds. Beckmann's History of Inventions. 2 vols. 3^. 6d. each. Bede's Ecclesiastical History and the A. S, Chronicle, y. Bell (Sir C.) On the Hand. 5J. Anatomy of Expression, y. Bentley's Phalaris. y. BJornson's Ame and the Fisher Lassie. Trans, by W. H. Low. y. 6d. Blair's Chronological Tables. 10s. Index of Dates. 2 vols. 5J. each. Bleek's Introduction to the Old Testa- ment. 2 vols. 5J-. each. Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy, &c. 5s. Bohn's Dictionary of Poetical Quota- tions. 6s. Bond's Handy -book for Verifying Dates, &c. 5^. Bonomi's Nineveh. 5J. Boswell's Life of Johnson. (Napier). 6 vols. y. 6d. each. (Croker.) 5 vols. 20s. Brand's Popular Antiquities. 3 vols. y. each. Bremer's Works. Trans, by Mary Howitt. 4 vols. y. 6d. each. Bridgewater Treatises. 9 vols. Various prices. Brini (B. Ten). Early English Litera- ture. 2 vols. y. 6d. each. ALPHABETICAL LIST OF Browne's (Sir Thomas) Works. 3 vols. 3^-. bd. each. Buchanan's Dictionary of Scientific Terms. 6s. Buckland's Geology and Mineralogy. 2 vols. 15J. Burke's Works and Speeches. 8 vols. 35. dd. each. The Sublime and Beautiful, xs. & is. 6d. Reflections on the French Revolution, is. Life, by Sir James Prior, y. 6d. Burney's Evelina, y. 6d. Cecilia 2 vols. 3J. 6d. each. Burns' Life by Lockhart. Revised by W. Scott Douglas. 3^. 6d. Butler's Analogy of Religion, and Sermons. 3^. 6d. Butler's Hudibras. 55. ; or 2 vols. , 5^. each. Caesar. Trans.by W. A. M'Devitte. y. Camoens' Lusiad. Mickle's Transla- tion, revised, y. 6d. Carafas (The) of Maddaloni. By .'\lfred de Reumont. y. 6d. Carpenter s Mechanical Philosophy 5J. Vegetable Physiology. 6s. Animal Physiology. 6s. Carrel's Counter Revolution under Charles II. and James II. 3s. 6d. Cattermole's Evenings at Haddon Hall. 5J. Catullus and Tibullus. Trans, by W. K. Keily. s^- Cellini's Memoirs. (Roscoe.) 3J. 6d. Cervantes' Exemplary Novels. Trans. by W. K. Kelly. 3J. 6d. Don Quixote. Motteux's Trans. revised. 2 vols. 3^. 6d. each. Galatea. Trans, by G. W. J. Gyll. 3^. 6d. Chalmers On Man. y. Channing's The Perfect Life. is. and IS. 6d. Chaucer's Works. Bell's Edition, re- vised by Skeat. 4 vols. 3J. 6d. ea. Chess Congress of 1862. By J. Lowenthal. 5J. Chevreul on Colour, sj. and 7s. 6d. Chillingworth's The Religion of Pro- testants, ss. 6d. China : Pictorial, Descriptive, and Historical. «?J. Chronicles of the Crusades. 5^. Cicero s Works. 7 vols. y. each. 1 vol., y. 6d. Friendship and Old Age. xs. and \s. 6d. Clark's Heraldry. (Planche.) 5^. and Classic Tales. 3^. 6d. Coleridge's Prose Works. (Ashe.) 6 vols. 3J. 6d. each. Comte's Philosophy of the Sciences. (G. H. Lewes.) 55. Coude's History of the Arabs in Spain. 3 vols. y. 6d. each. Cooper's Biographical Dictionary. 2 vols. y. each. Cowper's Works. (Southey.) 8 vols. y. 6d. each. Coxe's House of Austria. 4 vols. y. 6d. each. Memoirs of Marlborough. 3 vols. 3s. 6d. each. Atlas to Marlborough's Campaigns. 10s. 6d. Craik's Pursuit of Knowledge, y. Craven's Young Sportsman's Manual. Cruikshank's Punch and Judy. 55. Three Courses and a Dessert. $s. Cunningham's Lives of British Painters. 3 vols. 3s. 6d. each. Dame. Trans, by Rev. H. F. Cary. 3J. 6d. Inferno. Separate, xs. and xs. 6d. Purgatorio. xs. and xs. 6d. Paradiso. xs. and xs. 6d. Trans, by I. C. Wright. (Flax- man's Illustrations.) y. Inferno. Italian Text and Trans. by Dr. Carlyle. 5^. Purgatorio. Italian Text and Trans, by W. S. Dugdale. 5^. De Commines" Memoirs. Trans, by A. R. Scoble. 2 vols. y. 6d. each. Defoe's Novels and Miscel. Works. 6 vols. y. 6d. each. Robinson Crusoe (Vol. VII). 3s. 6d. or y. The Plague in London. \s. and xs. 6d. Delolme on the Constitution of Eng- land. 3s. 6d. Demmins' Anr and Armour. Trans, by C. C. BlacK. yr. 6d. Demosthenes' Orations. Trans by C. Rann Kennedy. 4 vols, y., ai.d I vol. v. 6d. BONN'S LIBRARIES. Demosthenes' Orations On the Crown. ij-. and iJ. 6d. De Stael's Corinne. Trans, by Emily Baldwin and Paulina Driver. 3J. 6d. Devey's Logic. 5^. Dictionary of Greek and Latin Quota- tions^ 55. of Poetical Quotations (Bohn). 6s. of Scientific Terms. (Buchanan.) 6j. of Biography. (Cooper.) 2 vols. 55. each. of Noted Names of Fiction. (Wheeler.) 5J-. of Obsolete and Provincial Eng- lish. (Wright.) 2 vols. 5J. each. Didron's Christian Iconography. 2 vols. 5j. each. Diogenes Laertius. Trans, by C. D. Yonge. 5-f. Dobree's Adversaria. (Wagner). 2 vols. 5^. each. D odd's Epigrammatists. 6j. Donaldson's Theatre of the Greeks. 5J. Draper's History of the Intellectual Development of Europe. 2 vols. 5^. each. Dunlop's History of Fiction. 2 vols. 5^. each. Dyer's History of Pompeii. 7J. dd. The City of Rome. 5^. Dyer's British Popular Customs. 55. Early Travels in Palestine. (Wright.) Eaton's Waterloo Days. \s. and \s. 6d. Eber's Egyptian Princess. Trans, by E. S. Buchheim. y. 6d. Edgeworth's Stories for Children. 3J. 6d. Ellis' Specimens of Early English Me- trical Romances. (Halliwell.) ss. Elze's Life of Shakespeare. Trans, by L. Dora Schmitz. 55. Emerson's Works. 3 vols. y. 6d. each, or 5 vols. IS. each. Ennemoser's History of Magic. 2 vols. 55. each. Epictetus. Trans, by George Long. 5^. Euripides. Trans, by E. P. Coleridge. 2 vols. 5^. each. Eusebius' Eccl. History. Trans, by C. F. Cruse. 5.?. Evelyn's Diary and Correspondence. (Bray.) 4 vols. Ss. each. Fairholt's Costume in England. (Dillon.) 2 vols. 5J. each. Fielding's Joseph Andrews. 3^. 6d. Tom Jones. 2 vols. 3^. 6d. each. Amelia. 5J. Flaxman's Lectures on Sculpture. 6s. Florence of Worcester's Chronicle. Trans, by T. Forester. $s. Foster's Works. 10 vols. y. 6d. each. Franklin's Autobiography, u. Gesta Romanorum. Trans, by Swan & Hooper. $s. Gibbon's Decline and Fall. 7 vols. 3jr. 6d. each. Gilbart's Banking. 2 vols, 5^-. each. Gil Bias. Trans, by Smollett. 6s. Giraldus Cambrensis. ss. Goethe's Works and Correspondence, including Autobiography and Annals, Faust, Elective affinities, Werther, Wilhelra Meister, Poems and Ballads, Dramas, Reinecke Fox, Tour in Italy and Miscellaneous Travels, Early and Miscellaneous Letters, Correspon- dence with Eckermann and Soret, Zelter and Schiller, &c. &c. By various translators. 16 vols. y. 6d. each. Faust. Text with Hayward's Translation. (Buchheim.) 5J'. Faust. Part I. Trans, by Anna Swanwick. \s. and is. 6d. Boyhood. (Part I. of the Auto- biography.) Trans, by J. Oxenford. IS. and IS. 6d. Reinecke Fox. Trans, by A. Rogers, is. and i.f. 6d. Goldsmith's Works. (Gibbs.) 5 vols. 3^^. 6d. each. Plays. IS. and is. 6d. Vicar of Wakefield, is. and is. 6d. Grammout's Memoirs and Boscobel Tracts. 5J. Gray's Letters. (D. C. Tovey.) [In the press. Greek Anthology. Trans, by E. Burges. 5J. Greek Romances. (Theagenes and Chariclea, Daphnis and Chloe, Cli- topho and Leucippe.) Trans, by Rev. R. Smith. 5J. Greek Testament. 5J. ALPHABETICAL LIST OF Greene, Marlowe, and Ben Jonson's Poems. (Robert Bell.) 35. Sd. Gregory's Evidences of the Christian ReUgion. 35. 6d. Martineau's History of England, 1800-15. y. (yd. -^ — History of the Peace, 1816-46. 4 vols. 3J. td. each. Matthew Paris. Trans, by Dr. Giles. 3 vols. 5^^. each. Matthew of Westminster. Trans, by C. D. Yonge. 2 vols. 55. each. Maxwell's Victories of Wellington. 55. Menzel's History of Germany. Trans. by Mrs. Horrocks. 3 vols. 3^. dd. ea. Michael Angelo and Raffaelle. By Duppa and Q. de Quincy. 5^. MicheleVs French Revolution. Trans by C. Cocks. 35. dd. Mignet's French Revolution. 35, bd. Miller's Philosophy of History. 4 vols. 3^. dd. each. Milton's Poetical Works. (J. Mont- gomery.) 2 vols. 35. td. each. Prose Works. (J. A, St. John.) 5 vols. 3 J. td. each. Mitford's Our Village. 2 vols. y. 6d. each. Moli^re's Dramatic Works. Trans, by C. H. Wall. 3 vols. y. 6d. each. The Miser, Tartuflfe, The Shop- keeper turned Gentleman. ly. & is. 6d. Montagu's (Lady M. W.) Letters and Works. (WharncUfFe and Moy Thomas.) 2 vols. 5^. each. Montaigne's Essays. Cotton's Trans. revised by W. C. Hazhtt. 3 vols. 3 J. 6d. each. Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws. Nu- gent's Trans, revised by J. V. Prichard. 2 vols. y. 6d. each. Morphy's Games of Chess. (Lowen- thal.) 5J. Mudie's British Birds. (Martin.) 2 vols. y. each. Naval and Military Heroes of Great Britain, 6s. Neander's History of the Christian Re- ligion and Church, to vols. Life of Christ. I vol. Planting and Train- ing of the Church by the Apostles. 2 vols. History of Christian Dogma. 2 vols. Memorials of Christian Life in the Early and Middle Ages. 16 vols. 3J. 6d. each. Nicolini's History of thejesuits. 5^, North's Li ves of the Norths. (J essopp. ) 3 vols. y. 6d. each. Nugenfs Memorials of Hampden, y. Ockley's History of the Saracens, y. dd. Ordericus Vitalis. Trans, by T. Forester. 4 vols. y. each. Ovid. Trans, by H. T. Riley. 3 vols. y. each. Pascal's Thoughts. Trans, by C. Kegan Paul. 3^. 6d. Paull's Life of Alfred the Great, &c. 5J. Life of Crmnwell. is. and is. 6d. Pausan^as' Description of Greece. Trans, by Rev. A. R, Shilleto. 2 vols. y. each. Pearson on the Creed. (Walford.) y. Pepys' Diary. (Braybrooke.) 4 vols. y. each. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. (Prichard.) 2 vols. 35. 6<3f. ea. Petrarch's Sonnets. 5^. Pettigrew's Chronicles of the Tombs. Philo-Judaeus. Trans, by C. D. Yonge. 4 vols. 5^. each. Pickering's Races of Man . y. Pindar. Trans, by D. W. Turner. $5. Planch^'s History of British Costume. Plato. Trans, by H. Gary, G. Burges, and H. Davis. 6 vols. 5^. each. Apology, Crito, Phaedo, Prota- goras. IS. and IS. 6d. Day's Analysis and Index to the Dialogues. 5J. Plautus. Trans, by H. T. Riley. 2 vols. 5J. each. Trinummus, Menaechmi, Aulu- laria, Captivi. is. and is. 6d. Pliny's Natural History, Trans, by Dr. Bostock and H. T. Riley. 6 vols. Ss. each. Pliny the Younger, Letters of. Mel- moth's trans, revised by Rev. F. C. T. Bosanquet. y. Plutarch's Lives. Trans, by Stewart and Long. 4 vols. 3^. 6d. each. Moralia. Trans, by Rev. C. W. King and Rev. A. R. Shilleto. 2 vols. 55. each. Poetry of America. (W. J. Linton.) 3.. 6d. BOHN*S LIBRARIES. Political Cyclopaedia. 4 vols. 35. 6(/. ea. Polyglot of Foreign Proverbs. 5^. Pope's Poetical Works. (Carruihers.) 2 vols. 5^. each, Homer. (J. S. Watson.) 2 vols. 5J-. each. Life and Letters. (Carruthers. ) ^s. Pottery and Porcelain. (H. G. Bohn.) 5J. and loj. dd. Propertius. Trans, by Rev. P. J. F. Gantillon. 35. td. Pl'OUt (Father.) Reliques. 55. Quintilian's Institutes of Oratory. Trans, by Rev. J. S. Watson. 2 vols. 5 J. each. Racine's Tragedies. Trans, by R. B. Boswell. 2 vols. 3J. 6d. each. Ranke s History of the Popes. Trans. by E. Foster. 3 vols. 3^. 6d. each. Latin and Teutonic Nations. Trans, by P. A. Ash worth. 3J. dd. History of Servia. Trans, by Mrs. Kerr. 3J. dd. Renuie's Insect Architecture. (J. G. Wood. ) 5^. Reynold's Discourses and F2ssays. (Beechy.) 2 vols. 3^. dd. each. Ricardo's Political Economy. (Gon- ner.) 5J. Richter's Levana. 35. td. Flower Fruit and Thorn Pieces. Trans, by Lieut. -Col. Ewing. 3J. 6d. Roger de Hovenden's Annals. Trans, by Dr. Giles. 2 vols. 5J. each. Roger of Wendover. Trans, by Dr. Giles. 2 vols. 5J. each. Roget's Animal and Vegetable Phy- siology. 2 vols. 6^. each. Rome in the Nineteenth Century. (C. A. Eaton. ) 2 vols. 55 each. Roscoe's Leo X. 2 vols. 3J. 6d. each. Lorenzo de Medici. 3^. dd. Russia, History of. By W. K. Kelly. 2 vols. 3J. bd. each. Sallust, Florus, and Velleius Pater- culus. Trans, by Rev. J. S. Watson. Schiller's Works. Including H istory of the Thirty Years' War, Revolt of the Netherlands, Wallenstein, William Tell, Don Carlos, Mary Stuart, Maid of Orleans, Bride of Messina, Robbers, Fiesco, Love and Intrigue, Demetrius, Ghost-Seer, Sport of Divinity, Poems, Aesthetical and Philosophical Essays, &c. By various translators. 7 vols. 3^. ^d. each. Mary Stuart and The Maid of Orleans. Trans, by J. Mellish and Anna Swanwick. xs. and \s. 6d. Schlegel (F.). Lectures and Miscel- laneous Works. 5 vols. 3J'. 6d. each. (A. W.). Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, y. 6d. Schopenhauer's Essays. Selected and Trans, by E. Eelfort Bax. y. On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason and on the Will in Nature. Trans, by Mdme. Hillebrand. ^s. Schouw's Earth, Plants, and Man. Trans, by A. Henfrey. y. Schumann's Early Letters. Trans, by May Herbert, y. 6d. Reissmann's Life of. Trans, by A. L. Alger, y. bd. Seneca on Benefits. Trans, by Aubrey Stewart. 3J. 6rf. Minor Essays and On Clemency. Trans, by Aubrey Stewart. 5J. Sharpe's History of Egypt. 2 vols. 55. each. Sheridan's Dramatic Works. 31. 6d. Plays. \s. and xs. 6d. Sismondi's Literature of the South of Europe. Trans, by T. Roscoe. 2 vols. 3^. 6d. each. Six Old English Chronicles, y. Smith (Archdeacon). Synon)ms and Antonyms. 5^. Smith (Adam). Wealth of Nations. (Belfort Bax.) 2 vols. y. 6d. each. Theory of Moral Sentiments. y. 6d. Smith (Pye). Geology and Scripture. Ss. Smyth's Lectures on Modern History. 2 vols. y. 6d. each. St crates' Ecclesiastical History. 5j-. Sophocles. Trans, by E. P. Coleridge, B.A. ss. Southey's Life of Nelson. 51. Life of Wesley, 5J IP ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BOHITS LIBRARIES. Sozomen's Ecclesiastical History. 5^. Spinoza's Chief Works. Trans, by R. H, M. Elwes. 2 vols. 5^. each. Stanley's Dutch and Flemish Painters, Starling's Noble Deeds of Women, 55. Staunton's Chess Players' Handbook. 55. Chess Praxis. $s. Chess Players' Companion, sj. Chess Tournament of 1851. SJ. Stockliardt's Experimental Chemistry. (Heaton.) 55. Strabo's Geography. Trans, by Falconer and Hamilton. 3 vols. 5^. each. Strickland's Queens of England. 6 vols. 5J. each. Mary Queen of Scots. 3 vols. ^5. each. Tudor and Stuart F*rincesses. 51. Stuart ft Revett's Antiquities of Athens, 5J. Suetonius' Lives of the Caesars and of the Grammarians, Thomson's trans. revised by T. Forester. 5J. Sully's Memoirs. Mrs. Lennox's trans, revised. 4 vols. 35. dd. each, Tacitus. The Oxford trans, revised, 2 vols. 5J, each. Tales of the Genii. Trans, by Sir. Charles Morell. Sj. Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered. Trans. by J. H. WiflFen. 5J. Taylor's Holy Living and Holy Dying. 35. td. Terence and Phaedrus. Trans, by H. T. Riley. 5J. Tbeocritus, Bion, Moschus, and Tyrtaeus. Trans, by Rev. J. Banks. Theodoret and Evagrius. sr. riiierry's Norman Conquest. Trans, by W, Hazlitt. 2 vols, 3J. dd. each. Thucydides. Trans by Rev. H. Dale. 2 vols. 3J. dd. each. Wheeler's Analysis and Summary of. 5^. Trevelyan's Ladies in Parliament, is. and IS. 6d. Ulricl's Shakespeare's Dramatic Art. Trans, by L. Dora Schmitz. 2 vols. 3^, 6d. each. Uncle Tom's Cabin. 3^. 6d. Ure's Cotton Manufacture of Great Britain. 2 vols, $s. each. Philosophy of Manufacture, js. 6d, Vasari's Lives of the Painters, Trans, by Mrs. Foster. 6 vols. 3J. 6d. each. VirgflL Davidson's Trans, revised by T. A. Buckley. 3^. 6d. Voltaire's Tales. Trans, by R. B. Boswell. y. td. Walton's Angler. 5J. Lives. (A H. Bullen.) 5J. Waterloo Days. By C. A. Eaton. ij. and \s. td. Wellington, Life of. By 'An Old Soldier.' 5^. Werner's Templars in Cyprus. Trans. by E. A. M. Lewis. 35, td. Westropp's Handbook of Archaeology. Wheatley. On the Book of Common Prayer. 35. td. Wheeler's Dictionary of Noted Names of Fiction. 55. WMte's Natural History of Selbome. Wieseler's Synopsis of the Gospds. William of Malmesbury's Chronicle. Wright's Dictionary of Obsolete and Provincial English. 2 vols. y. each. Xenophon, Trans, by Rev. J. S. Wat- son and Rev. H. Dale. 3 vols. 5^. ea. Young's Travels in France, 1787-89. (M. Betham-Edvvards.) 3^. td. Toiu- in Ireland, 1776-9. (A. W. Hutton.) 2 vols. y. td. each. Yule-Tlde Stories. (B. Thorpe.) y. New Editi .ns, fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6(3. each, net. THE ALDINE EDITION OF THE BRITISH POETS. • This excelleTit edition of the English classics, with their complete texts and scholarly introd actio ''S, are something very different from the cheap volumes of extracts which are just now so mnch too common.'— St. James's Gazette. •An excellent series. Small, handy, and complete.'— Saturday Review. Blake. Edited by W. M. Kossetti. Keats Edited by the late Lord Houghton. Campbell. Edited by his son-in- law, the Rev. A. W. Bill. With Memoir by W. Allingham. Coleridge. Edited by T. Ashe, B.A. 2 vols. Vaughan. Sacred Poems and Pious Ejaculations. Edited by tho Eev. H. Lyte. Raleigh and Wotton. With Se- lections from the Writincrs of other CODRTLY POETS from 1540 to 1650. Edited by Ven. Archdeacon Hannah, D.C.L. Chatterton. Edited by the Eev. W. W. Skeat, M.A. 2 vols. Rogers. Edited by Edward Bell, M.A. Herbert. Edited by the Rev. A. B. Grosart. Chaucer. Edited by Dr. R. Morris, with Memoir by Sir H. Nicolas. 6 vols. Spenser. Edited by J. Payne Col- lier, 5 vols. Dryden. Edited by the Eev. E. Hooper, M.A. 5 vols. Gray. Edited by J. Braddhaw, LL.D. Pope. Edited by G. E. Dennis. With Memoir by John Dennis. 3 vols. Milton. Edited by Dr. Bradshaw. 3 vols. Churchill. Edited by Jas. Hannav 2 vols. Scott. Edited by John Dennis. 5 vols. Edited by H. Buxton 5 vols. Edited by G. A. Aitken She ley. Forman. Prior. Edited by E. B. Johnson. 2 vols. Wordsworth. Edited by Prof Dowden. 7 vols. Burns. 3 vols. Herrick. Edited by George Saints- bury. 2 vols. Butler. Edited by E. B. Johnson. 2 vols. Parnell. Edited by G. A. Aitken. To be followed by Goldsmith. Edited by Dobson. Thomson. 0. Tovey. 2 vols. Collins. Edited by Austin Edited by the Eev. D. W. Moy Thomas. Surrey. Edited by J. Gregory Poster. Wyatt. Edited by J. Gregory Foster. Swift. Edited by the Eev. E. Hooper, M.A. 3 vols. Cowper. Edited by John Bruce, F.S.A. 3 vols. YoTing. 2 vols. Shakespeare's Poems. The only authorized and complete 'Webster.' WEBSTER'S INTERNATIONAL DICTIONARY. An entirely New Edition^ thoroughly Revised^ considerably Enlarged^ and reset in New Type, Medium ^to. 211^ pages ^ 3500 illustrations. Prices: Cloth, £1 us. 6d.; half-calf, £2 2s.; half-russia, £2 5s.; calf, £a 8s. Also in 2 vols, cloth, £1 14s. In addition to the Dictionary of Words, with their pronunciation, ety- mology, alternative spellings, and various meanings, illustrated by quotations and numerous woodcuts, there are several valuable appendices, comprising a Pronouncing Gazetteer of the World ; Vocabularies of Scripture, Greek, Latin, and English Proper Names ; a Dictionary of the noted Names of Fiction ; a Brief History of the English Language ; a Dictionary of Foreign Quotations, Words, Phrases, Proverbs, &c. ; a Biographical Dictionary with 10,000 Names, &c. This last revision, comprising and superseding the issues of 1847, 1864, and 1880, is by far the most complete that the Work has undergone during the sixty-two years that it has been before the public. Every page has been treated as if the book were now published for the first time. — /J SOME PRESS OPINIONS ON THE NEW EDITION. * We believe that, all things considered, this will be found to be the best existing English dictionary in one volume. We do not know of any work similar in size and price which can approach it in completeness of vocabulary, variety of information, and general usefulness.' — Guardian. *The most comprehensive and the most useful of its kind.' — National Observer. 'A magnificent edition of Webster's immortal Dictionary.' — Daily Telegraph. • A thoroughly practical and useful dictionary.' — Standard, ' A special feature of the present book is the lavish use of engravings, which at once illustrate the verbal explanations of technical and scientific terms, and permit them to remain readably brief. It may be enough to refer to the article on ** Cross." By the use of the Httle numbered diagrams we are spared what would have become a treatise, and not a very clear one. . . . We recommend the new Webster to every man of business, every father of a family, every teacher, and almost every student — to everybody, in fact, who is likely to be posed at an unfamiliar or half-understood word or phrase.' — St. lames' s Gazette, ProspectuseSy with Specimen Fages, on application. London : GEORGE BELL & SONS, York Street, Covent Gulden. — *fl 14 DAY USE ,r\von^V.T) R RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. >ks are subject to immediate recall. OK. 1W2178 NOV 15198$ AUTO. DISC. SEP 1 5 1986 LD21— 32to — 1,'75 (S3845l)4970 General Library University of California Berkeley YB 23713 LIBRARY USE GENERAL LIBRARY -U.C. BERKELEY i B000ab0St,3 *•!