THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
THE 
 
 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 
 
 OF 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 F. H. PETEES, M.A, 
 
 FELLOW OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFOSD 
 
 THIRD EDITION 
 
 LONDON 
 KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE 
 
 1836 
 

 PEEFACE. 
 
 A TEANSLATION of a work so well known as Aristotle's 
 Ethics scarcely needs any preface. It might perhaps 
 seem superfluous to do again what has already been 
 done so often ; but every one who is acquainted with 
 the extant English translations knows that, valuable 
 as they are, they leave much to be desired. I am quite 
 conscious that the version which is now offered to the 
 public is still very far from being adequate; yet I 
 venture to hope that it may do something towards 
 supplying an acknowledged want, and that it may be 
 of some service to those who (whether they be scholars 
 or not) wish to know what the greatest thinker of 
 antiquity has to say upon a subject which is of such 
 a nature that what a great man of any age says upon 
 it is usually of more permanent value than what he 
 says on any other subject. 
 
 I have, of course, made free use of other trans- 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 lators and commentators, and wish here to make a 
 
 full acknowledgment of my obligations. 
 
 But I must more particularly express my thanks 
 to my friends Mr. A. C. Bradley and Mr. J. Cook 
 Wilson, the former of whom has been kind enough 
 to read the whole of the proof sheets, and the latter 
 a large portion of them. To both, and especially to 
 the former, I am indebted for many valuable sug- 
 gestions. But, as I have sometimes persisted in my 
 own opinion in spite of their dissent, the reader must 
 not hold them responsible for any of the errors he 
 may detect. 
 
 The notes perhaps require some apology ; they 
 may appear to be too many for footnotes to a 
 translation, but they are certainly too few for a 
 regular commentary, leaving without explanation 
 many points that much need it. But if this transla- 
 tion should meet with any favour, I purpose before 
 long to follow it up with an Introduction, in which 
 I shall hope to some extent to make good this de- 
 ficiency. 
 
 F. H. P. 
 
 OXFORD, February, 1881. 
 
PEEFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 THIS edition is substantially the same as the first, 
 though a great many slight alterations have been 
 made. 
 
 I have to thank my reviewers in general, and in 
 particular Mr. J. A. Stewart of Christ Church (who 
 reviewed the first edition in Mind, July, 1881), for 
 much kindly criticism and many valuable suggestions. 
 Where their suggestions have not been adopted, I 
 trust they will believe that my persistence is due 
 neither to carelessness nor to unwillingness to learn, 
 but to the fact that after full consideration I find 
 myself unable to agree with them. 
 
 An Introduction, promised in the Preface to the 
 first edition, is, I regret to say, not yet finished.; but 
 I still hope to publish it before long. 
 
 I omitted in the first edition to state that I have 
 in the main followed Bekker's text (Berlin, 1845), and 
 
VI PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 that when I have departed from it I have generally 
 notified the fact ; that the chapters and sections are 
 those of Zell ; and that whenever I have inserted in 
 the text explanatory words of my own, I have 
 enclosed them in square brackets thus [ ]. 
 
 F. H. P. 
 
 OXFORD, February, 1884. 
 
 NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 IN this edition a few clerical errors have been 
 corrected, and the wording of one or two passages 
 has been improved. No other change has been made. 
 
 F. H. P. 
 
 PLAS HEN, CRICCIETH, NORTH WALES, 
 November, 1885. 
 
CONSPECTUS. 
 
 BOOK 
 
 Of the good or the end I. 
 
 Of moral virtue in general ... . ... II. 
 
 Of the will HI. 1-5.X 
 
 Of the several moral virtues and vices ... III. 6-end of V- 
 
 Of the intellectual virtues VI. 
 
 Of forms of moral character other than virtue 
 
 or vice VII. 1-10. 
 
 First account of pleasure VII. 11-end. 
 
 Of friendship or love VIII. and IX. 
 
 Second account of pleasure X. 1-5. 
 
 Conclusion X. 6-end. 
 

 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 THE END. 
 
 CHAP. PACK 
 
 1. In all he does man seeks some good as end or means ... 1 
 
 2. The end is the good ; our subject is this and its science, 
 
 Politics 2 
 
 3. Exactness not permitted by subject, nor to be expected by 
 
 student, who needs experience and training 3 
 
 4. Men agree that the good is happiness, but differ as to what 
 
 this is. We must reason" from facts accepted without 
 question by the man of trained character 5 
 
 5. ' The good cannot be pleasure, as some hold, nor honour, nor 
 
 virtue 6 
 
 6. Various arguments to show against the Platoni-ts that there 
 
 cannot be one universal good : even if there were it 
 would not help us here 8 
 
 7. The good is the final end, and happiness is this. To find it 
 
 we ask, What is man's function ? Kcsulting definition 
 
 of happiness 12 
 
 8. This view harmonizes various current views 18 
 
 9. Is happiness acquired, or the gift of Gods or chance? ... 22 
 
 10. Can no man be called happy during life ? 23 
 
 11. Cannot the fortunes of survivors aifect the dead ? 27 
 
 12. Happiness as absolute end is above praise 28 
 
 13. Division of the faculties and resulting division of the virtues 30 
 
S TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 MOKAL VIRTUE. 
 
 3HAP. 
 
 1. Moral virtue is acquired by the repetition of the corn 
 
 spending acts 
 
 2. These acts must be such as reason prescribes ; they cannot 
 
 be denned exactly, but must be neither too much nor 
 
 too little 36 
 
 3. Virtue is in various ways concerned with pleasure and 
 
 pain , 
 
 4. The conditions of virtuous action as distinct from artistic 
 
 production 
 
 5. Virtue not an emotion, nor a faculty, but a trained faculty 
 
 or habit 42 
 
 6. Viz. the habit of choosing the mean 43 
 
 7. This must be applied to the several virtues 48 
 
 8. The two vicious extremes are opposed to one another and to 
 
 the intermediate virtue 52 
 
 9. The mean is hard to hit, and is a mutter of perception not 
 
 of reasoning 55 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTERS 1-5. THE WILL. 
 
 1. An act is involuntary when done (a) under compulsion, or 
 
 (6) through ignorance : (a) means not originated by doer, 
 (6) means through ignorance of the circumstances: 
 voluntary, then, means originated with knowledge of 
 circumstances 58 
 
 2. Purpose, a mode of will, means choice after deliberation ... 66 
 
 3. We deliberate on what we can do not on ends, but means 68 
 
 4. We wish for the end, the real or apparent good ... 72 
 
 5. Virtue and vice are alike voluntary : our acts are our own ; 
 
 for we are punished for them : ignorance is no excuse 
 when due to negligence : if this be our character, we have 
 made it by repeated acts : even bodily vices are blam- 
 able when thus formed. We cannot plead that our 
 
TABLE OP CONTENTS. XI 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 notion of good depends on our nature ; for (1) vice would 
 still be as voluntary as virtue, (2) we help to make our- 
 selves what we are 74 
 
 CHAPTERS 6-12. THE SEVERAL MOEAL VIETUES 
 AND VICES. 
 
 6. Of courage and the opposite vices 80 
 
 7. Of courage continued 82 
 
 8. Of courage improperly so called 85 
 
 9. How courage involves both pain and pleasure 89 
 
 10. Of temperance 91 
 
 11. Of temperance continued 93 
 
 12. How profligacy is more voluntary than cowardice 96 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 THE SAME Continued. 
 
 1. Of liberality 99 
 
 2. Of magnificence 108 
 
 3. Of high-mindedness ... 113 
 
 4. Of a similar virtue in smaller matters 120 
 
 5. Of gentleness 122 
 
 6. Of agreeableness 125 
 
 7. Of truthfulness ~* 127 
 
 8. Ofwittiness 131 
 
 9. O/ the feeling of shame 133 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 THE SAME Concluded. JUSTICE. 
 
 1. Preliminary. Two senses of justice distinguished. Of 
 
 justice (1) = obedience to law, = complete virtue ... 136 
 
 2. Of justice (2) = fairness, how related to justice (1). What 
 
 is just in distribution distinguished from what is just 
 
 in correction 140 
 
xii TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 3. Of what is just in distribution, and its rule of geometrical 
 
 proportion 
 
 4. Of what is just in correction, and its rule of arithmetical 
 
 proportion 1*' 
 
 5. Simple requital is not identical with what is just, but pro- 
 
 portionate requital is what is just in exchange ; and this 
 is effected by means of money. We can now give a 
 general definition of justice (2) 152 
 
 6. (It is possible to act unjustly without being unjust.) That 
 
 which is just in the strict sense is between citizens 
 only, for it implies law 160 
 
 7. It is in part natural, in part conventional 163 
 
 8. The internal conditions of a just or unjust action, and of a 
 
 just or unjust agent 165 
 
 9. Sundry questions about doing and suffering injustice ... 169 
 
 10. Of equity 174 
 
 11. Can a man wrong himself? 176 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 
 
 1. Must be studied because (a) reason prescribes the mean, 
 
 (6) they are a part of human excellence. The intel- 
 lect is (1 ) scientific, (2) calculative : we want the virtue 
 of each 180 
 
 2. The function of the intellect, both in practice and specula- 
 
 tion, is to attain truth 182 
 
 3. Of the five modes of attaining truth : (1) of demonstrative 
 
 science of things unalterable ... ... ... ... 184 
 
 4. Of knowledge of things alterable, viz. (2) of art in what We*" 
 
 make 185 
 
 5. And (3) of prudence in what we do, the virtue of the calcula- 
 
 tive intellect 186 
 
 6. (4) Of intuitive reason as the basis of demonstrative science 189 
 
 7. (5) Of wisdom as the union of science and intuitive reason. 
 
 Comparison of the two intellectual virtues, wisdom and 
 prudence 190 
 
 8. Prudence compared with statesmanship and other forms of 
 
 knowledge 192 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. xiii 
 
 9. Of deliberation 195 
 
 10. Ofintelligence 198 
 
 11. Of judgment. Of reason or intuitive perception as the 
 
 basis of the- practical intellect ' 199 
 
 12. Of the uses of wisdom and prudence. How prudence is 
 
 related to cleverness 202 
 
 13. How prudence is related to moral virtue 205 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 CHAPTERS 1-10. CHARACTERS OTHER THAN 
 VIRTUE AND VICE. 
 
 1. Of continence and incontinence, heroic virtue and brutality. 
 
 Of method. Statement of opinions about continence 208 
 
 2. Statement of difficulties as to how one can know right and 
 
 do wrong 210 
 
 3. Solution : to know has many senses ; in what sense such a 
 
 man knows 214 
 
 Of incontinence in the strict and in the metaphorical sense 220 
 
 Of incontinence in respect of brutal or morbid appetites ... 224 
 
 Incontinence in anger less blamed than in appetite . . . 227 
 
 Incontinence yields to pleasure, softness to pain. Two 
 
 kinds of incontinence, the hasty and the weak ... 230 
 
 8. Incontinence compared with vice and virtue 233 
 
 9. Continence and incontinence not identical with keeping 
 
 and breaking a resolution 235 
 
 10. Prudence is not, but cleverness is, compatible with in- 
 
 continence 237 
 
 CHAPTERS 11-14. PLEASURE. 
 
 11. We must now discuss pleasure. Opinions about it ... 239 
 
 12. Answers to arguments against goodness of pleasure. 
 
 Ambiguity of good and pleasant. Pleasure not a tran- 
 sition, but unimpeded activity 240 
 
 13. Pleasure is good, and the pleasure that consists in the . 
 
 highest activity is the good. All admit that happiness 
 
 is pleasant. Bodily pleasures not the only pleasures 243 
 
 14. Of the bodily pleasures, and the distinction between natur- 
 
 ally and accidentally pleasant ... 246 
 
xiv TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 
 
 CHAP. PAGB 
 
 1. Uses of friendship. Differences of opinion about it ... 251 
 
 2. Three motives of friendship. Friendship defined 25.3 
 
 3. Three kinds of friendship corresponding to the three 
 
 motives. Perfect friendship is that whose motive is the 
 
 good 255 
 
 4. The others are imperfect copies of this 258 
 
 5. Intercourse necessary to the maintenance of friendship ... 260 
 
 6. Impossible to have many true friends 262 
 
 7. Of friendship between unequal persons, and its rule of pro- 
 
 portion. Limits within which this is possible 265 
 
 8. Of loving and being loved 267 
 
 9. Every society has its own form of friendship as of justice. 
 
 All societies are summed up in civil society 269 
 
 10. Of the three forms of constitution 271 
 
 11. Of the corresponding forms of friendship 274 
 
 12. Of the friendship of kinsmen and comrades *. 276 
 
 13. Of the terms of interchange and quarrels hence arising in 
 
 equal friendships 279 
 
 14. Of the same in unequal friendships . ... 283 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE Continued. 
 
 1. Of the rule of proportion in dissimilar friendships 286 
 
 2. Of the conBict of duties 289 
 
 3. Of the dissolution of friendships 292 
 
 4. A man's relation to his friend like his relation to himself 294 
 
 5. Friendship and good- will 297 
 
 6. Friendship and unanimity 299 
 
 7. Why benefactors love more than they are loved 300 
 
 8. In what sense it is right to love one'g self 303 
 
 9. Why a happy man needs friends 307 
 
 10. Of the proper number of friends 312 
 
 11. Friends needed both in prosperity and adversity 314 
 
 12. Friendship is realized in living together ... ... ... 316 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. XV 
 
 BOOK X. 
 CHAPTERS 1-5. PLEASURE. 
 
 3HAP. PAGE 
 
 1. Reasons for discussing pleasure 318 
 
 2. Arguments of Eudoxus that pleasure is the good 319 
 
 3. Argument that it is not a quality; that it is not deter- 
 
 mined ; that it is a motion or coming into being. Plea- 
 sures differ in kind 322 
 
 4. Pleasure defined : its relation to activity 325 
 
 5.' Pleasures differ according to the activities. The standard 
 
 is the good man 330 
 
 CHAPTERS 6-9. CONCLUSION. 
 
 6. Happiness not amusement, but life 335 
 
 7. Of the speculative life as happiness in the highest sense ... 337 
 
 8. Of the practical life as happiness in a lower sense, and of 
 
 the relation between the two. Prosperity, how far 
 needed 341 
 
 9. How is the end to be realized ? 346 
 
(SIT! 
 
 THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OE 
 ABISTOTLE. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 1, EVERY art and every kind of inquiry, and like- in 
 wise every act and purpose, seems to aim at some * 
 good: and so it has been well said that the. good is ** 
 that at which everything aims. 
 
 But a difference is observable among these aims or 
 ends. What is aimed at is sometimes the exercise of 
 a faculty, sometimes a certain result beyond that 
 exercise. And where there is an end beyond the act, 
 there the result is better than the exercise of the 
 faculty. 
 
 Now since there are many kinds of actions and 
 many arts and sciences, it follows that there are many 
 ends also; e.g. health is the end of medicine, ships 
 of shipbuilding, victory of the art of war, and wealth 
 of economy. 
 
 But when several of these are subordinated to 
 
2 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 some one art or science, as the making of bridles and 
 other trappings to the art of horsemanship, and this 
 in turn, along with all else that the soldier does, to the 
 art of war, and so on, then the end of the master-art 
 is always more desired than the ends of the subordinate 
 arts, since these are pursued for its sake. And this is 5 
 equally true whether the end in view be the mere 
 exercise of a faculty or something beyond that, as in 
 the above instances. 
 
 2. If then in what we do there be some end which 1 
 , we wish for on its own account, choosing all the others 
 as means to this, but not every end without exception 
 as a means to something else (for so we should go on 
 ad infinitum, and desire would be left void and 
 objectless), this evidently will be the good or the 
 best of all things. 
 
 And surely from a practical point of view it much 2 
 concerns us to know this good ; for then, like archers 
 shooting at a definite mark, we shall be more likely 
 to attain what we want. 
 
 If this be so, we must try to indicate roughly what 3 
 it is, and first of all to which of the arts or sciences it 
 belongs. 
 
 It would seem to belong to the supreme art or 4 
 science, that one which most of all deserves the name 
 of master-art or master-science. 
 
 Now Politics* seems to answer to this description. 5 
 
 * To Aristotle Politics is a much wider term than to us ; it 
 covers the whole field of human life, since man is essentially social 
 (7, 6) ; it has to determine (1) what is the good ? the question of 
 this treatise ( 9) and (2) what can law do to promote this good ? 
 the question of the sequel, which is specially called "The Politics :" 
 cf, X, 9. 
 
1, 5-3, 4.] THE END. 3 
 
 For it prescribes which of the sciences a state needs, 
 and which each man shall study, and up to what 
 point ; and to it we see subordinated even the highest 
 arts, such as economy, rhetoric, and the art of war. 
 
 Since then it makes use of the other practical 
 sciences, and since it further ordains what men are 
 to do and from what to refrain, its end must include 
 the ends of the others, and must be the proper good of 
 man. 
 
 For though this good is the same for the individual 
 and the state, yet the good of the state seems a grander 
 and more perfect thing Loth to attain and to secure ; 
 and glad as one would be to do this service for a 
 single individual, to do it for a people and for a 
 number of states is nobler and more divine. 
 
 This then is the aim of the present inquiry, which 
 is a sort of political inquiry.* 
 
 3. We must be content if we can attain to so much 
 
 precision in our statement as the subject before us 
 
 i - A * * j.i j * 
 
 admits oi ; tor tne same degree 01 accuracy is no more 
 
 to be expected in all kinds of reasoning than in all wh &> 
 
 experien* 
 
 kinds of manufacture. and 
 
 training 
 
 Now what is noble and just (with which Politics 
 deals) is so various and so uncertain, that some think 
 these are merely conventional and not natural dis- 
 tinctions. 
 
 There is a similar uncertainty also about what is 
 good, because good things often do people harm : men 
 have before now been ruined by wealth, and have 
 lost their lives through courage. 
 
 Our subject, then, and our data being of this 
 
 * i.e. covers a part of the ground only : see preceding note. 
 
1 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 nature, we must be content if we can indicate the 
 truth roughly and in outline, and if, in dealing with 
 matters that are not amenable to immutable laws, and 
 reasoning from premises that are but probable, we 
 can arrive at probable conclusions.* 
 
 The reader, on his part, should take each of my 
 statements in the same spirit ; for it is the mark of 
 an educated man to require, in each kind of inquiry, 
 just so much exactness as the subject admits of: it is 
 equally absurd to accept probable reasoning from a 
 mathematician, and to demand scientific proof from an 
 orator. 
 
 But each man can form a judgment about what he 5 
 knows, and is called " a good judge " of that of any 
 special matter when he has received a special educa- 
 tion therein, '-a good judge " (without any qualifying 
 epithet) when he has received a universal education. 
 And hence a young man is not qualified to be a 
 student of Politics; for he lacks experience of the 
 affairs of life, which form the data and the subject- 
 matter of Politics. 
 
 Further, since he is apt to be swayed by his G 
 feelings, he will derive no benefit from a study whose ' 
 aim is not speculative but practical. 
 
 But in this respect young in character counts the 7 
 same as young in years; for the young man's dis- 
 qualification is not a matter of time, but is due to the 
 fact that feeling rules his life and directs all his 
 desires. Men of this character turn the knowledge 
 
 * The expression TO. ws eVl rb TroAt; covers both (1) what is gene- 
 rally though not universally true, and (2) what is probable though 
 not certain. 
 
3, 5-4, 4 ] THE END. 5 
 
 they get to no account in practice, as we see with I 
 those we call incontinent ; but those who direct their 
 desires and actions by reason will gain much profit 
 from the knowledge of these matters, 
 
 So much then by way of preface as to the student^ 
 and the spirit in which he must accept what we say, 
 and the object which we propose to ourselves. 
 
 4, Since to resume all knowledge and all 
 pose aims at some good, what is this which we s 
 is the aim of Politics : or, in other words, what is the what * 
 
 15. 
 
 highest of all realizable goods ? 
 
 As to its name, I suppose nearly all men are agreed ; 
 for the masses and the men of culture alike declare 
 that it is happiness, and hold that to " live well " or 
 to " do well " is the same as to be " happy." 
 
 But they differ as to what this happiness is, and v+ 
 the masses do not give the same account of it as the / 
 philosophers. 
 
 The former take it to be something palpable and 
 plain, as pleasure or wealth or fame ; one man holds 
 it to be this, and another that, and often the same 
 man is of different minds at different times, after 
 sickness it is health, and in poverty it is wealth; 
 while when they are impressed with the consciousness 
 of their ignorance, they admire most those who ^say 
 grand things that are above their comprehension. 
 
 Some philosophers, on the other hand, have thought 
 that, beside these several good things, there is jjji^x 
 " absolute " good which is the cause of their goodness. 
 
 As it would hardly be worth while to review all 
 the opinions that have been held, we will confine our- 
 selves to those which are most popular, or which seem 
 to have some foundation in reason. 
 
6 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. L 
 
 mst But we must not omit to notice the distinction 5 
 
 IT- that is drawn between the method of proceeding from 
 te i!stion your starting-points or principles, and the method of 
 SratX* working up to them. Plato used with fitness to raise 
 this question, and to ask whether the right way is 
 from or to your starting-points, as in the race-course 
 you may run from the judges to the boundary, or vice 
 versa. 
 
 Well, we must start from what is known. 
 But " what is known" may mean two things : 
 " what is known to us," which is one thing, or " what 
 is known " simply, which is another. 
 
 I think it is safe to say that we must start from 
 i what is known to us. 
 
 And on this account nothing but a good moral 6 
 training can qualify a man to study what is noble 
 and just in a word, to study questions of Politics. 
 For the undemonstrated fact is here the starting- 
 point, and if this undemonstrated fact be suf- 
 ficiently evident to a man, he will not require a 
 " reason why." Now the man who has had a good 
 moral training either has already arrived at starting- 
 points or principles of action, or will easily accept 
 ^ them when pointed out. But he who neither has them 
 v nor. will accept them may hear what Hesiod says * 
 
 " The best is he who of himself doth know j 
 Good too is he who listens to the wise ; 
 But he who neither knows himself nor heeds 
 The words of others, is a useless man. " 
 
 < g oo& 5, Let us now take up the discussion at the point 1 
 
 Mitre, ncr from which we digressed. 
 
 tour, nor 
 
 * " Works and Days," 291-293. 
 
4, 5-5, 6i] THE END. 7 
 
 As to men's notions of the good or happiness, it 
 seems (to judge, as we reasonably may, from their 
 
 2 lives) that the masses, who are the least refined, hold 
 it to be pleasure, and so accept the life of enjoyment 
 as their ideal. 
 
 For the most conspicuous kinds of life are three : 
 this life of enjoyment, the life of the statesman, and, 
 thirdly, the contemplative life. 
 
 3 The mass of men show themselves utterly slavish 
 in their preference for the life of brute beasts, but 
 their views receive consideration because many of 
 those in high places have the tastes of Sardanapalus. 
 
 4 Men of refinement with a practical turn prefer 
 honour ; for I suppose we may say that honour is the 
 aim of the statesman's life. 
 
 But this seems too superficial to be the good we 
 are seeking : for it appears to depend upon those who 
 give rather than upon those who receive it ; while we 
 have a presentiment that the good is something that 
 is peculiarly a man's own and can scarce be taken 
 away from him. 
 
 5 Moreover, these men seem to pursue honour in 
 order that they may be assured of their own 
 excellence, at least, they wish to be honoured by 
 men of sense, and by those who know them, and on 
 the ground of their virtue or excellence. It is plain, 
 then, that in their view, at any rate, virtue or excellence 
 
 6 is better than honour ; and perhaps we should take 
 this to be the end of the statesman's life, rather than 
 honour. 
 
 But virtue or excellence also appears too incom- 
 plete to be what we want; for it seems that a man 
 
8 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. I. 
 
 might have virtue and yet be asleep or be inactive 
 all his life, and, moreover, might meet with the 
 greatest disasters and misfortunes ; and no one would 
 maintain that such a man is happy, except for 
 argument's sake. But we will not dwell on these 
 matters now, for they are sufficiently discussed in the 
 popular treatises. 
 
 The third kind of life is the life of contemplation : 7 
 we will treat of it further on.* 
 
 As for the money-making life, it is something 8 
 quite contrary to nature ; and wealtli_yidently is not 
 the good of which we are in search, for it is merely 
 useful as a means to something else. So we might 
 rather take pleasure and virtue or excellence to be 
 ends than wealth ; for they are chosen on their own 
 account. But it seems that not even they are the 
 end, though much breath has been wasted in attempts 
 to show that they are. 
 
 6. Dismissing these views, then, we have now to l 
 consider the "universal good," and to state the diffi- 
 culties which it presents ; though such an inquiry is 
 n ^ a P^ easan ^ ^ as k i* 1 view of our friendship for the 
 authors of the doctrine of ideas. But we venture to 
 think that this is the right course, and that in the 
 interests of truth we ought to sacrifice even what 
 is nearest to us, especially as we call ourselves philo- 
 sophers. Both are dear to us, but it ia a sacred duty 
 to give the preference to truth. 
 
 In the first place, the authors of this theory them- 2 
 selves did not assert a common idea in the case of 
 things of which one is prior to the other ; and for this 
 * Cf. VI. 7, 12, and X. 7, 8. 
 
5, 7-6, 5.] THE END. 9 
 
 reason they did not hold one common idea of numbers. 
 Now the predicate good is applied to substances and 
 also to qualities and relations. But that which has 
 independent existence, what we call "substance," is 
 logically prior to that which is relative ; for the latter 
 is an offshoot as it were, or [in logical language] an 
 accident of a thing or substance. So [by their own 
 showing] there cannot be one common idea of these 
 goods. 
 
 Secondly, the term good is used in as many 
 different ways as the term "is" or "being:" we apply 
 the term to substances or independent existences, as 
 God, reason; to qualities, as the virtues; to quantity, 
 as the moderate or due amount ; to relatives, as the 
 useful ; to time, as opportunity ; to place, as habitation, 
 and so on. It is evident, therefore, that the word good 
 cannot stand for one and the same notion in all these 
 various applications ; for if it did, the term could not 
 be applied in all the categories, but in one only. 
 
 Thirdly, if the notion were one, since there is but 
 one science of all the things that come under one idea, 
 there would be but one science of -all goods ; but as it 
 is, there are many sciences even of the goods that 
 come under one category ; as, for instance, the science 
 which deals with opportunity in war is strategy, but 
 in disease is medicine; and the science of the due 
 amount in the matter of food is medicine, but in the 
 matter of exercise is the science of gymnastic. 
 
 Fourthly, one might ask what they mean by the 
 " absolute : " in " absolute man " and " man " the word 
 " man " has one" and the same sense ; for in respect of 
 manhood there will be no difference between them ; 
 
10 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 and if so, neither will there be any difference in 
 respect of goodness between "absolute good" and 
 "good." 
 
 Fifthly, they do not make the good any more good 6 
 by making it eternal ; a white thing that lasts a long 
 while is no whiter than what lasts but a day. 
 
 There seems to be more plausibility in the doctrine 7 
 of the Pythagoreans, who [in their table of opposites] 
 place the one on the same side with the good things 
 [instead of reducing all goods to unity]; and even 
 Speusippus * seems to follow them in this. 
 
 However, these points may be reserved for another 8 
 occasion; but objection may be taken to what I have 
 said on the ground that the Platonists do not speak 
 in this way of all goods indiscriminately, but hold 
 that those that are pursued and welcomed on their 
 own account are called good by reference to one 
 common form or type, while those things that tend to 
 produce or preserve these goods, or to prevent their 
 opposites, are called good only as means to these, and 
 in a different sense. 
 
 It is evident that there will thus be two classes of 9 
 goods : one good in themselves, the other good as 
 means to the former. Let us separate then from the 
 things that are merely useful those that are good in 
 themselves, and inquire if they are called good by 
 reference to one common idea or type. 
 
 Now^what kind of things would one call "good 10 
 in themselves " ? 
 
 Surely those things that we pursue even apart 
 from their consequences, such as wisdom and sight 
 * Plato's nephew and successor. 
 
6, 6-13.] THE END. 11 
 
 and certain pleasures and certain honours ; for 
 although we sometimes pursue these things as means, 
 no one could refuse to rank them among the things 
 that are good in themselves. 
 
 If these be excluded, nothing is good in itself 
 except the idea ; and then the type or form will be 
 meaningless.* 
 
 If however, these are ranked among the things 
 that are good in themselves, then it must be shown 
 that the goodness of all of them can be defined in tlie 
 same terms, as white has the same meaning when 
 applied to snow and to white lead. 
 
 But, in fact, we have to give a separate an< 
 different account of the goodness of honour and 
 wisdom and pleasure. 
 
 ^ Good, then, is not a term that is applied to all these 
 things alike in the same sense or with reference to 
 one common idea or form. 
 
 But how then do these things come to be called 
 good ? for they do not appear to have received the 
 same name by chance merely. Perhaps it is because 
 they all proceed from one source, or all conduce to 
 one end; or perhaps it is rather in virtue of some 
 analogy, just as we call the reason the eye of the soul 
 because it bears the same relation to it that the eye 
 does to the body, and so on. 
 
 But we may dismiss these questions at present; 
 for to discuss them in detail belongs more properly to 
 another branch of philosophy. 
 
 And for the same reason we may dismiss the Even if the 
 
 * For there is no meaning in a form which is a form of nothing, 
 in a universal which has no particulars under it. 
 
12 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 further consideration of the idea; for even granting 
 that this term good, which is applied to all these 
 different things, has one and the same meamn 
 throughout, or that there is an absolute good apart 
 from these particulars, it is evident that this good 
 will not be anything that man can realize or attain : 
 but it is a good of this kind that we are now 
 seeking. 
 
 It might, perhaps, be thought that it would never- 14 
 theless be well to inake ourselves acquainted with 
 this universal good, with a view to the goods that are 
 attainable and realizable. With this for a pattern, it 
 may be said, we shall more readily discern our own 
 good, and discerning achieve it. 
 
 There certainly is some plausibility in this argu- 15 
 ment ; but it seems to be at variance with the existing 
 Bciences ; for though they are all aiming at some good 
 and striving to make up their deficiencies, they neglect 
 to inquire dbout this universal good. And yet it is 
 scarce likely that the professors of the several arts and 
 sciences should not know, nor even look for, what 
 would help them so much. 
 
 And indeed I am at a loss to know how the weaver 16 
 'or the carpenter would be furthered in his art by a 
 knowledge of the absolute good, or how a man would 
 be rendered more able to heal the sick or to command 
 an army by contemplation of the pure form or idea. 
 For it seems to me that the physician does not even 
 seek for health in this abstract way, but seeks for the 
 health of man, or rather of some particular man, for it 
 is individuals that he has to heal. 
 
 7. Leaving these matters, then, let us return once l 
 

 . 
 
 NIVEES1T 
 
 6, 14-7, 4.1 THE END. 13 
 
 N^Ojl 
 
 more to the question, what this good can be of which the final end, 
 we are in search. 
 
 It seems to be different in different kinds of action 
 and in different arts, one thing in medicine and 
 another in war, andgo on. What then is the good in 
 each of these cases f Surely that for the sake of which 
 all else is done} And that in medicine is health, in 
 war is victory,^*! building is a house, a different thing 
 in each different case, but always, in whatever we do 
 and in whatever we choose, th<^encL For it is always 
 for the sake of the end that all else is done. 
 
 If then there be one end of all that man does, this 
 end will be the realizable good, or these ends, if 
 there be more than one. 
 
 Our argument has thus come round by a different 
 path to the same point as before.* This point we 
 must try to explain more clearly. 
 
 We see that there are many ends. But some of 
 these are chosen only as means, as wealth, flutes, and 
 the whole class of instruments. And so it is plain that 
 not all ends are final. 
 
 But the best of all things must, we conceive, be 
 something final. 
 
 If then there be only one final end, this will be 
 what we are seeking, or if there be more than one, 
 then the most final of them. 
 
 Now that which is pursued as an end in itself is 
 more final than that which is pursued as means to 
 something else, and that which is never chosen as 
 means than that which is chosen both as an end in 
 itself and as means, and that is strictly final .which 
 
14 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 / is always chosen as an end in itself and never as 
 means. 
 
 Happiness seems more than anything else to answer 5. 
 to this description : for we always choose it for itself, / 
 and never for the sake of something else ; while honour^ 
 and pleasure and reason, and all virtue or excellence, I 
 we choose partly indeed for themselves (for, apart from ' 
 any result, we should choose each of them), but partly 
 also for the sake of happiness, supposing that they will 
 help to make us happy. But no one chooses happiness 
 for the sake of these things, or as a means to anything 
 else at all. 
 
 We seem to be led to the same conclusion when we 6 
 start from the notion of self-sufficiency. 
 
 The final good is thought to be self-sufficing [or 
 all-sufficing]. In applying this term we do not regard 
 a man as an individual leading a solitary life, but we 
 also take account of parents, children, wife, and, in 
 short, friends and fellow-citizens generally, since man 
 is naturally a social being. Some limit must indeed 7 
 be set to this ; for if you go on to parents and descend- 
 ants and friends of friends, you will never come to a 
 stop. But this we will consider further on : for the 
 present we will take self-sufficing to mean what by 
 itself makes life desirable and in want of nothing. 
 And happiness is believed to* answer to this descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 And further, happiness is believed to be the most 8 
 desirable thing in the world, and that not merely as 
 one among other good things : if it were merely one 
 among other good things [so that other things could 
 be added to it], it is plain that the addition of the least 
 
7, 14-19.] THE END. 17 
 
 good of man is exercise of his faculties in accordanc 
 with excellence or virtue, or, if there be more tl 
 one, in accordance with the best and most complete' 
 virtue.* 
 
 16 But there must also be a full term of years for 
 this exercise ; f for one swallow or one fine day does 
 not make a spring, nor does one day or any small 
 space of time make a blessed or happy man. 
 
 17 This, then, may be taken as a rough outline of the 
 good ; for this, I think, is the proper method, first to 
 sketch the outline, and then to fill in the details. But 
 it would seem that, the outline once fairly drawn, any 
 one can carry on the work and fit in the several items 
 which time reveals to us or helps us to find. And this 
 indeed is the way in which the arts and sciences have 
 grown ; for it requires no extraordinary genius to fill 
 up the gaps. 
 
 18 We must bear in mind, however, what was said 
 above, and not demand the same degree of accuracy in 
 all branches of study, but in each case so much as the 
 subject-matter admits of and as is proper to that kind 
 
 19 of inquiry. The carpenter and the geometer both look 
 for the right angle, but in different ways : the former 
 only wants such an approximation to it as his work 
 requires, but the latter wants to know what con- 
 stitutes a right angle, or what is its special quality ; 
 his aim is to find out the truth. And so in other cases 
 we must follow the same course, lest we spend more 
 
 * This " best and most complete excellence or virtue " is the 
 trained faculty for philosophic speculation, and the contemplative life 
 is man's highest happiness. Cf. X. 7, 1. 
 
 f Cf. 9, 11. 
 
NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 time on what is immaterial than on the real business 
 in hand. 
 
 Nor must we in all cases alike demand the reason 20 
 why ; sometimes it is enough if the undemonstrated 
 fact be fairly pointed out, as in the case of the start- / 
 ing-points or principles of a science. Undemonstrated / 
 facts always form the first step or starting-point of 
 a science ; and these starting-points or principles are W 
 arrived at some in one way, some in another some 
 by induction, others by perception, others again by 
 some kind of training. But in each case we must try 
 to apprehend them in the proper way, and do our 
 best to define them clearly; for they have great in- 
 fluence upon the subsequent course of an inquiry. 
 A good start is more than half the race, I think, and 
 our starting-point or principle, once found, clears up 
 a number of our difficulties. 
 
 8. We must not be satisfied, then, with examimng\ 1 
 this starting-point or principle of ours as a conclusion 
 from our data, but must also view it in its relation 
 to current opinions on the subject ; for all experience 
 harmonizes with a true principle, but a false one is 
 soon found to be incompatible with the facts. 
 
 Now, good things have been divided into threje-2 
 classes, ext^maLgoods/on the one hand, and on the 
 other goods of the soul and goods vj$i3^ body ; and 
 the goods of the soul are commonly said to be 
 goods in the fullest sense, and more good than any 
 other. 
 
 But " actions and exercises of the vital faculties or ' 
 soul " may be said to be " of the soul." So our account 
 is confirmed by this opinion, which is both of long 
 
7, 20-8, 9.] THE END. 19 
 
 standing and approved by all who busy themselves 
 with philosophy. 
 
 But, indeed, we secure the support of this opinion 
 by the mere statement that certain actions and 
 exercises are the end; for this implies that it is to 
 be ranked among the goods of the soul, and not 
 among external goods. 
 
 Our account, again, is in harmony with the com- 
 mon saying that the happy man lives well and does 
 well ; for we may say that happiness, according to us, 
 is a JiyingjweU andjlQing w.o\L 
 
 And, indeed, all the characteristics that 
 to find in happiness seem to belong^ to happiness as 
 
 6 ""Some hold it to be virtue or excellence, sonre 
 prudence, others a kind of wisdom ; others, again, hold 
 it to be all or some of these, with the addition of_ 
 pleasure, Cither as an ingredient or as a necessary 
 accompaniment ; and some even include external 
 prosperity in their account of it. 
 
 7 Now, some of these views have the support of 
 many voices and of old authority; others have few 
 voices, but those of weight ; but it is probable that 
 neither the one side nor the other is entirely wrong, 
 but that in some one point at least, if not in most, 
 they are both right. 
 
 8 First, then, the view that happiness is excellence 
 or a kind of excellence harmonizes with our account;! 
 for "exercise of faculties in accordance with excel-) 
 lence " belongs to excellence. 
 
 9 But I think we may say that it makes no small 
 difference whether the good be conceived as the mere 
 
20 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. I. 
 
 possession of something, or as its use as a mere habit 
 or trained faculty, or as the exercise of that faculty. 
 For the habit or faculty may be present, and yet issue 
 m no good result, as when a man is asleep, or in any 
 other way hindered from his function ; but with its 
 exercise this is not possible, for it must show itself 
 in acts and in good acts. And as at the Olympic 
 games it is not the fairest and strongest who receive 
 the crown, but those who contend (for among these 
 are the victors), so in life, too, the winners are those j 
 who not only have all the excellences, but manifest 
 these in deed. 
 
 And, further, the life of these men is in itself 10 
 pleasant. For pleasure is an affection of the soul, | 
 and each man takes pleasure in that which he is said 
 to love, he who loves horses in horses, he who loves ' 
 sight- seeing in sight-seeing, and in the same way he 
 who loves justice in acts of justice, and generally the 
 lover of excellence or virtue in virtuous acts or the 
 manifestation of excellence. 
 
 And while with most men there is a perpetual 11 
 conflict between the several things in which they find 
 pleasure, since these are not naturally pleasant, those 
 who love what is noble take pleasure in that which 
 is naturally__pleasant. For the manifestations of ex- 
 cellence are naturally pleasant, so that they are both 
 pleasant to them and pleasant in themselves. 
 
 Their life, then, does not need pleasure to be added 12 
 to it as an appendage, but contains pleasure in itself. 
 
 Indeed, in addition to what we have said, a man i 
 is not good at all unless he takes pleasure in noble] 
 deeds. No one would call a man just who did not 
 
8, 10-17.] THE END. 21 
 
 take pleasure in doing justice, nor generous who took 
 no pleasure in acts of generosity, and so on. 
 
 13 If this be so, the manifestations of excellence will 
 be pleasant in themselves. But they are also both 
 good and noble, and that in the highest degree at 
 least, if the good man's judgment about them is right, 
 for this is his judgment. 
 
 14 jJappiness, then, is at once the bestjmd noblest/ 
 and pleasantest thing in the world, and these are notf 
 separated, as the Delian inscription would have them 
 to be : 
 
 " What is most just is noblest, health is best, 
 Pleasantest is to get your heart's desire." 
 
 For all these characteristics are united in the best 
 exercises of our faculties ; and these, or some one of 
 them that is better than all the others, we identify 
 with happiness. 
 
 15 But nevertheless happiness plainly requires ex- 
 ternal goods too, as we said ; for it is impossible, or 
 at least not easy, to act nobly without some furniture 
 of fortune. There are many things that can only be 
 done through instruments, so to speak, such as friends 
 
 16 and wealth and political influence : and there are some 
 . things whose absence takes the bloom off our happi- 
 ness, as good birth, the blessing of children, personal 
 beauty ; for a man is not very likely to be happy if 
 he is very ugly in person, or of low birth, or alone in 
 the world, or childless, and perhaps still less if he has 
 worthless children or friends, or has lost good ones 
 that he had. \ 
 
 7 As we said, then, happiness seems to stand in need 
 of this kind of prosperity ; and so some identify it 
 
22 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 with good fortune, just as others identify it with 
 excellence. 
 
 happiness 9, This has led people to ask whether happiness 1 
 is attained by learning, or the formation of habits, or 
 an y other kind of training, or comes by some divine 
 dispensation or even by chance. 
 
 Well, if the Gods do give gifts to men, happiness 2 
 is likely to be among the number, more likely, indeed, 
 than anything else, in proportion as it is better than 
 all other human things. 
 
 This belongs more properly to another branch of in- 3 
 quiry ; but we may say that even if it is not heaven- 
 sent, but comes as a consequence of virtue or some 
 kind of learning or training, still it seems to be one 
 of the most divine things in the world ; for the prize 
 and aim of virtue would appear to be better than 
 anything else and something divine and blessed. 
 
 Again, if it is thus acquired it will be widely 4 
 accessible; for it will then be in the power of all 
 except those who have lost the capacity for excellence 
 to acquire it by study and diligence. 
 
 And if it be better that men should attain happi- 5 
 ness in this way rather than by chance, it is reasonable 
 to suppose that it is so, since in the sphere of nature 
 all things are arranged in the best possible way, and 
 likewise in the sphere of art, and of each mode of 6 
 causation, and most of all in the sphere of the noblest 
 mode of causation. And indeed it would be too 
 absurd to leave what is noblest and fairest to the 
 dispensation of chance. 
 
 But our definition itself clears up the difficulty;* 7 
 
 * Qf. s <xra. 7, 21. 
 
9, 1-10, 2.] THE END. 23 
 
 for happiness was defined as a certain kind of exercise 
 of the vital faculties in accordance with excellence or 
 virtue. And of the remaining goods [other than goods 
 of the soul], some must Jpejxresent as necessary con- 
 ditions, while others are aids and useful instruments 
 
 8 to happiness. And this agrees with what we said at 
 starting. We then laid down that the end of the art 
 political is the best of all ends ; but the chief business 
 of that art is to make the citizens of a certain character 
 
 9 that is, good and apt to do what is noble. It is not 
 without reason, then, that we do not call an ox, or a 
 horse, or any brute happy ; for none of them is able 
 to share in this kind of activity. 
 
 10 For the same reason also a child is not happy; 
 he is as yet, because of his age, unable to do such 
 things. If we ever call a child happy, it is because 
 we hope he will do them. For, as we said, happi- 
 ness reguires_^ot only_perfect excellence^or virtue^ I 
 
 11 but also a full term of years for its exer^Se 
 our~^circumstances are liable to many changes and 
 to all sorts of chances, and it is possible that he 
 who is now most prosperous will in his old age meet 
 with great disasters, as is told of Priam in the 
 tales of the heroes; and a man who is thus used 
 by fortune and comes to a miserable end cannot be 
 called happy. 
 
 1 10. Are we, then, to call no man happy as long as 
 
 he lives, but to wait for the end, as Solon said ? , 
 
 during I 
 
 2 And, supposing we have to allow this, do we mean 
 that he actually is happy after he is dead ? Surely 
 that is absurd, especially for us who say that happi- 
 ness is a kind of activity or life. 
 
24: NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 But if we do not call the dead man happy, and if 3 
 Solon meant not this, but that only then could we 
 safely apply the term to a man, as being now beyond 
 the reach of evil and calamity, then here too we 
 find some ground for objection. For it is thought 
 that both good and evil may in some sort befall a 
 dead man (just as they may befall a living man, 
 although he is unconscious of them), e.g. honours 
 rendered to him, or the reverse of these, and again the 
 prosperity or the misfortune of his children and all 
 his descendants. 
 
 But this, too, has its difficulties ; for after a man 4 
 has lived happily to a good old age, and ended as he 
 lived, it is possible that many changes may befall him 
 in the persons of his descendants, and that some of 
 them may turn out good and meet with the good 
 fortune they deserve, and others the reverse. It is 
 evident too that the degree in which the descendants 
 are related to their ancestors may vary to any extent. 
 And it would be a strange thing if the dead man were 5 
 to change with these changes and become happy and 
 miserable by turns. / But it would also be strange to \ 
 suppose that the dead are not affected at all, even for J 
 a limited time, by the fortunes of their posterity. 
 
 But let us return to our former question ; for its 6 
 solution will, perhaps, clear up this other difficulty. 
 
 ^ The saying of Solon may mean that we ought to 7 
 look for the end and then call a man happy, not 
 because he now is, but because he once was happy.} 
 
 But surely it is strange that when he is happy 
 we should refuse to say what is true of him, because 
 we do not like to apply the term to living men in view 
 
10, 3-11.] THE END. 25 
 
 of the changes to which they are liable, and because we 
 hold happiness to be something that endures and is 
 little liable to change, while the fortunes of one and 
 
 8 the same man often undergo many revolutions : for, it 
 is argued, it is plain that, if we follow the changes of 
 fortune, we shall call the same man happy and miserable 
 many times over, making the happy man " a sort of 
 chameleon and one who rests on no sound foundation." 
 
 9 We reply that it cannot be right thus to follow 
 fortune. For it is not in this that our weal or woe 
 lies; but, as we said, though the life of man needs 
 these gifts of fortune, yet it is the excellent_employ- 
 ment of his powers that consjH^teslEa-lLappiness. as 
 tlie~reverse of this_constitutes his misery, 
 
 10 ~~ ~~ But the discussioh^oi' this difficulty leads to a 
 further confirmation of our account. For nothing 
 human is so constant as the excellent exercise of our 
 faculties. The sciences themselves seem to be less 
 abiding. And the highest of these exercises * are the 
 most abiding, because the happy are occupied with 
 them most of all and most continuously (for this seems 
 to be the reason why we do not forget how to do 
 them t). 
 
 11 The happy man, then, as we define him, will have 
 this required property of permanency and all through 
 life will preserve his character ^ for he will be occupied 
 continually, oTwifirthlTleast possible 
 
 * The " highest exercise of our faculties " is, of course, philo- 
 sophic contemplation, as above, I. 7, 15 ; cf. X. 7, 1. 
 
 f We may forget scientific truths that we have known more 
 easily than we lose the habit of scientific thinking or of virtuous 
 action ; cf. X. 7, 2 ; VI. 5, 8. 
 
26 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. T. 
 
 excellent deeds and excellent speculations ; and, what- 
 ever liis fortune be, he will take it in the noblest 
 fashion, and bear himself always and in all things 
 suitably, since he is truly good and " foursquare with- 
 out a flaw." 
 
 But the dispensations of fortune are many, some 12 
 great, some small. The small ones, whether good or 
 evil, plainly are of no weight in the scale ; but the 
 great ones, when numerous, will make life happier if 
 they be good ; for they help to give a grace to life 
 themselves, and their use is noble and good ; but, if 
 they be evil, will enfeeble and spoil happiness ; for 
 they bring pain, and often impede the exercise of our 
 faculties. 
 
 But nevertheless true worth shines out even here, 
 in the calm endurance of many great misfortunes, not 
 through insensibility, but through nobility and great- 
 ness of soul. And if it is what man does that deter- 13 
 mines the character of his life, as we said, then no 
 happy man will become miserable , for he will never 
 do what is hateful and base. For we hold that the 
 man who is truly good and wise will bear with dignity 
 whatever fortune sends, and will always make the 
 best of his circumstances, as a good general will turn 
 the forces at his command to the best account, and a 
 good shoemaker will make the best shoe that can be 
 made out of a given piece of leather, and so on with 
 all other crafts. 
 
 If this be so, the happy man will never become 14 
 miserable, though he will not be truly happy if he 
 meets with the fate of Priam. 
 
 But yet he is not unstable and lightly changed : he 
 
10, 12-11, 3.] THE END. 27 
 
 will not be moved from his happiness easily, nor by any 
 ordinary misfortunes, but only by many heavy ones ; 
 and after such, he will not recover his happiness again 
 in a short time, but if at all, only in a considerable 
 period, which has a certain completeness, and in which 
 he attains to great and noble things. 
 L5 We shall meet all objections, then, if we say that 
 a happy man is " one who exercises his faculties in 
 accordance with perfect excellence, being duly fur- 
 nished with external goods, not for any chance time, 
 but for a full term of years : " to a^hich perhaps we 
 should add, " and who shall continue to live so, and 
 shall die as he lived," since the future is veiled to us, 
 
 but happiness we take to be the end and in all ways 
 perfectly final or complete. 
 
 If this be so, we may say that those living men are 
 blessed or perfectly happy who both have and shall 
 continue to have these characteristics, but happy as 
 men only. 
 
 1 11, Passing now from this question to that of the cannot n 
 
 ^ fortunes oj 
 
 fortunes of descendants and of friends generally, the survivors 
 
 ' affect the 
 
 doctrine that they do not affect the departed at all 
 seems too cold and too much opposed to popular 
 
 2 opinion. But as the things that happen to them are 
 many and differ in all sorts of ways, and some come 
 home to them more and some less, so that to discuss 
 them all separately would be a long, indeed an end- 
 less task, it will perhaps be enough to speak of them 
 in general terms and in outline merely. 
 
 3 Now, as of the misfortunes that happen to a man's 
 self, some have a certain weight and influence on his 
 life, while others are of less moment, so is it also with 
 
28 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 what happens to any of his friends. And, again, it 4 
 always makes much more difference whether those 
 who are affected by an occurrence are alive or dead 
 than it does whether a terrible crime in a tragedy be 
 enacted on the stage or merely supposed to have 
 already taken place. We must therefore take these 5 
 differences into account, and still more, perhaps, the 
 fact that it is a doubtful question whether the dead 
 are at all accessible to good and ill. For it appears 
 from what has been said that even if anything, whether 
 good or evil, does come home to them, yet it is some- 
 thing unsubstantial and slight to them if not in itself; 
 or if not that, yet at any rate its influence is not of 
 that magnitude or nature that it can make happy 
 those who are not, or take away their happiness from 
 those that are. 
 
 It seems then to conclude that the prosperity, 6 
 and likewise the adversity, of friends does affect the 
 dead, but not in such a way or to such an extent as to 
 make the happy unhappy, or to do anything of the 
 kind. 
 ' 12. These points being settled, we may now inquire 1 
 
 r J 
 
 whether happiness is to be ranked among the goods 
 that we praise, or rather among those that we revere ; 
 for it is plainly not a mere potentiality, but an actual 
 good. 
 
 What we praise seems always to be praised 2 
 as being of a certain quality and having a certain 
 relation to something. For instance, we praise the 
 just and the courageous man, and generally the good 
 man, and excellence or virtue, because of what they do 
 or produce ; and we praise also the strong or the swift- 
 
11, 4-12, 7.] THE END. 29 
 
 footed man, and so on, because he has a certain gift 
 or faculty in relation to some good and admirable 
 thing. 
 
 3 This is evident if we consider the praises bestowed 
 on the Gods. These appear ridiculous, because they 
 imply a reference to a human standard; and this 
 necessarily happens, because all praise, as we said, 
 involves a reference to some standard. 
 
 4 If, then, praise be proper to such things as we 
 mentioned, it is evident that to the best things is due, 
 not praise, but something greater and better, as our 
 usage shows ; for the Gods we call blessed and happy, 
 and " blessed " is the term we apply to the most god- 
 like men. 
 
 And so with good things : no one praises happiness 
 as he praises justice, but calls it blessed, as something 
 better and more divine. 
 
 5 On these grounds Eudoxus is thought to have 
 based a strong argument for the claims of pleasure to 
 the first prize : for he maintained that the fact that it 
 is not praised, though it is a good thing, shows that it 
 is higher than the goods we praise, as God and the 
 good are higher ; for these are the standards by refer- 
 
 6 ence to which we judge all other things, giving praise 
 to excellence or virtue, since it makes us apt to do 
 what is noble, and passing encomiums on the results 
 of virtue, whether these be bodily or psychical. 
 
 7 But to refine on these points belongs more properly 
 to those who have made a study of the subject of 
 encomiums ; for us it is plain from what has been said 
 that happiness is one of the goods which we revere 
 and count as final 
 
30 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. I. 
 
 And this further seems to follow from the fact that 8 
 it is a starting-point or principle : for everything we 
 do is always done for its sake ; but the principle and 
 cause of aU good we hold to be something divine and 
 worthy of reverence. 
 
 ivision of 13. Since happiness is an exercise of the vital i 
 lns*tt- faculties in accordance with perfect virtue or excel- 
 lence, we will now inquire about virtue or excellence ; 
 for this will probably help us in our inquiry about 
 happiness. 
 
 And indeed the true statesman seems to be espe- 2 
 cially concerned with virtue, for he wishes to make 
 the citizens good and obedient to the laws. Of this 3 
 we have an example in the Cretan and the Lacedae- 
 monian lawgivers, and any others who have resembled 
 them. But if the inquiry belongs to Politics or the 4 
 science of the state, it is plain that it will be in ac- 
 cordance with our original purpose to pursue it. 
 
 The virtue or excellence that w^e are to consider is, $ 
 of course, the excellence of man ; for it is the good of 
 man and the happiness of man that we started to 
 seek. And by the excellence of man I mean excel- 6 
 lence not of body, but of soul ; for happiness we take 
 to be^aa-activity of the soul. 
 
 If this be so, then it is evident that the statesman 7 
 must have some knowledge of the soul, just as the 
 man who is to heal the eye or the whole body must 
 have some knowledge of them, and that the more in 
 proportion as the science of the state is higher and 
 better than medicine. But all educated physicians 
 take much pains to know about the body. 
 
 As statesmen [or students of Politics], then, we 8 
 
12, 8-13, 13.] DIVISION OF THE FACULTIES. 31 
 
 must inquire into the nature of the soul, but in so 
 doing we must keep our special purpose in view anct 
 go only so far as that requires ; for to go into minuter 
 detail would be too laborious for the present under- 
 taking. 
 
 9 Now, there are certain points which are stated with 
 sufficient precision even in the popular accounts of 
 the soul, and these we will adopt. 
 
 For instance, they distinguish an irrational and 
 a rational part. 
 
 10 Whether these are separated as are the parts of the 
 body or any divisible thing, or whether they are only 
 distinguishable in thought but in fact inseparable, like 
 concave and convex in the circumference of a circle, 
 makes no difference for our present purpose. 
 
 11 Of the irrational part, again, one division seems to 
 be common to all things that live, and to be possessed 
 by plants I mean that which causes nutrition and 
 growth ; for we must assume that all things that take 
 nourishment have a faculty of this kind, even when 
 they are embryos, and have the same faculty when 
 they are full grown ; at least, this is more reasonable 
 than to suppose that they then have a different one. 
 
 12 The excellence of this faculty, then, is plainly one 
 that man shares with other beings, and not specifically 
 human. 
 
 And this is confirmed by the fact that this part of 
 the soul, or this faculty, is thought to be most active 
 in sleep, while the distinction between the good and 
 the bad man shows itself least in sleep whence 
 the saying that for half their lives there is no differ- 
 
 13 ence between the happy and the miserable. This 
 
32 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. I. 
 
 indeed is what we should expect; for sleep is the 
 cessation of the soul from those functions in respect of 
 which it is called good or bad, except in so far as 
 the motions of the body may sometimes make their 
 way in, and give occasion to dreams which are better 
 in the good man than in ordinary people. 
 
 However, we need not pursue this further, and may 14 
 dismiss the nutritive principle, since it has no place in 
 the excellence of man. 
 
 But there seems to be another vital principle that 15 
 is irrational, and yet in some way partakes of reason. 
 In the case of the continent and of the incontinent 
 man alike we praise the reason or the rational part, 
 for it exhorts them rightly and urges them to do what 
 is best ; but there is plainly present in them another 
 principle besides the rational one, which fights and 
 struggles against the reason. For just as a paralyzed 16 
 limb, when you will to move it to the right, moves on 
 the contrary to the left, so is it with the soul ; the in- 
 continent man's impulses run counter to his reason. 
 Only whereas we see the refractory member in the case 
 of the body, we do not see it in the case of the soul. 
 But we must nevertheless, I think, hold that in the 
 soul too there is something beside the reason, which 
 opposes and runs counter to it (though in what sense 
 it is distinct from the reason does not matter here). 
 
 It seems, however, to partake of reason also, as we 17 
 said : at least, in the continent man it submits to the I 
 reason; while in the temperate and courageous man* 
 we may say it is still more obedient ; for in him it is 
 altogether in harmony with the reason. 
 
 The irrational part, then, it appears, is twofold, is 
 
13, 14-20.] DIVISION OF THE VIRTUES. 33 
 
 There is the vegetative faculty, which has no share of 
 reason ; and the ^faculty of appetite or of desire in 
 general, which partakes of reason in a manner that 
 is, in so far as it listens to reason and submits to its 
 sway. But when we say "partakes of reason" or 
 " listens to reason," we mean this in the sense in which 
 we talk of " listening to reason " from parents or 
 friends, not in the sense in which we talk of listen- 
 ing to reason from mathematicians. 
 
 Further, all advice and all rebuke and exhortation 
 testifies that the irrational part is in some way 
 amenable to reason. 
 
 19 If then we like to say that this part, too, has a 
 share of reason, the rational part also will have two 
 divisions : one rational in the strict sense as possessing 
 reason in itself, the other rational as listening to reason 
 as a man listens to his father. 
 
 20 Now, on this division of the faculties is based the 
 division of excellence; for we speak of - intellectual 
 excellences and of moral excellences; wisdom and 
 understanding and prudence we call intellectual, 
 liberality and temperance we call moral virtues or 
 excellences. When we are speaking of a man's moral 
 character we do not say that he is wise or intelligent, 
 but that he is^ gentle or temperate. But we praise 
 the wise man, too, for his habit of mind or trained 
 faculty ; and a habit or trained faculty that is praise- 
 worthy is what we call an excellence or virtue. 
 
BOOK H 
 
 MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 .; 
 
 rai Uu 1. EXCELLENCE, then, being of these two kinds, in- l 
 'aSrepi tellectual and moral, intellectual excellence owes its 
 SpLrf- 6 birth and growth mainly to instruction, and so re- 
 quires time and experience, while moral excellence ^ 
 is the result of habit or custom (Wog), and has accord- 1 
 ingly in our language received a name formed by a If 
 slight change from WOG* 
 
 From this it is plain that none of the moral excel- 2 
 lences or virtues is implanted in us by nature; for 
 that which is by nature cannot be altered by training. 
 For instance, a stone naturally tends to fall down- 
 wards, and you could not train it to rise upwards, 
 though you tried to do so by throwing it up ten 
 thousand times, nor could you train fire to move 
 downwards, nor accustom anything which naturally 
 behaves in one way to behave in any other way. 
 
 The virtues,! then, come neither by nature nor 3 
 
 * e0os, custom j %eos, character j rj0i/c^ o/jer^, moral excellence : we 
 have no similar sequence, but the Latin mos, mores, from which 
 "morality" comes, covers both ZOos and ^6os. 
 
 t It is with the moral virtues that this and the three following 
 books are exclusively concerned, the discussion of the intellectual 
 virtues being postponed to Book VI. aperai is often used in these 
 books, without any epithet, for " moral virtues," and perhaps is so 
 need here. 
 
1, 1-6.] MOBAL VIETUE. 35 
 
 against nature, but nature gives the capacity for 
 acquiring them, and this is developed by training. 
 
 Again, where we do things by nature we get the 
 power first, and put this power forth in act afterwards : 
 as we plainly see in the case of the senses ; for it is 
 not by constantly seeing and hearing that we acquire 
 those faculties, but, on the contrary, we had the power 
 first and then used it, instead of acquiring the power 
 by the use. But the virtues we acquire by doing the 
 acts, as is the case with the arts too. We learn an art 
 by doing that which we wish to do when we have 
 learned it; we become builders by building, and 
 harpers by harping. And so by doing just acts we 
 become just, and by doing acts of temperance and 
 courage we become temperate and courageous. 
 
 This is attested, too, by what occurs in states ; for 
 the legislators make their citizens good by training ; 
 i.e. this is the wish of all legislators, and those who 
 do not succeed in this miss their aim, and it is this 
 that distinguishes a good from a bad constitution. 
 
 Again, both virtues and vices result from and 
 are formed by the same acts in which they manifest 
 themselves, as is the case with the arts also. It is by 
 harping that good harpers and bad harpers alike are 
 produced : and so with builders and the rest ; by 
 building well they will become good builders, and bad 
 builders by building badly. Indeed, if it were not so, 
 they would not want anybody to teach them, but 
 would all be born either good or bad at their trades. 
 And it is just the same with the virtues also. It is 
 by our conduct in our intercourse with other men 
 that we become just or unjust, and by acting in cir- 
 
36 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. II. 
 
 cumstances of danger, and training ourselves to feel 
 fear or confidence, that we become courageous or 
 cowardly. So, too, with our animal appetites and the 
 passion of anger ; for by behaving in this way or in 
 that on the occasions with which these passions are 
 concerned, some become temperate and gentle, and 
 others profligate and ill-tempered. In a word, the 
 several habits or characters are formed by the same 
 kind of acts as those which they produce. 
 
 Hence we ought to make sure that our acts be of 8 
 a certain kind ; for the resulting character varies as 
 they vary. It makes no small difference, therefore, 
 whether a man be trained from his youth up in this 
 way or in that, but a great difference, or rather all 
 the difference. 
 * acts 2. But our present inquiry has not, like the rest, l 
 
 \t be such -, i i i 
 
 wson & merely speculative aim ; we are not inquiring merely 
 C cin'l'be in order to know what excellence or virtue is, but in 
 :%, but order to become good ; for otherwise it would profit 
 her too us nothing. We must ask therefore about these 
 
 Jl HOT 
 
 '.title, acts, and see of what kind they are to be ; for, as 
 we said, it is they that determine our habits or 
 character. 
 
 First of all, then, that they must be in accordance 
 with right reason is a common characteristic of them, 
 which we shall here take for granted, reserving for 
 future discussion * the question what this right reason 
 is, and how it is related to the other excellences. 
 
 But let it be understood, before we go on, that all 3 
 reasoning on matters of practice must be in outline 
 merely, and not scientifically exact : for, as we said at 
 
 * In Book VI. 
 
I, 8-2, 7.J MORAL VIRTUE. 37 
 
 starting, the kind of reasoning to be demanded varies 
 with the subject in hand; and in practical matters 
 and questions of expediency there are no invariable 
 laws, any more than in questions of health. 
 
 4 And if our general conclusions are thus inexact, 
 still more inexact is all reasoning about particular 
 cases ; for these fall under no system of scientifically 
 established rules or traditional maxims, but the agent 
 must always consider for himself what the special 
 occasion requires, just as in medicine or navi- 
 gation. 
 
 5 But though this is the case we must try to render 
 what help we can. 
 
 6 First of all, then, we must observe that, in matters*, 
 of this sort, to fall short and_to exceed are alike fataJJ) 
 This is plain (to illustrate what we cannot see by 
 what we can see) in the case of strength and health. 
 Too much and too little exercise alike destroy strength, 
 and to take too much meat and drink, or to take too 
 little, is equally ruinous to health, but the fitting 
 amount produces and increases and preserves them. 
 
 7 Just so, then, is it with temperance also, and courage, 
 and the other virtues. The man who shuns and 
 fears everything and never makes a stand, becomes 
 a coward ; while the man who fears nothing at all, 
 but will face anything, becomes foolhardy. So, too, 
 the man who takes his fill of any kind of pleasure, 
 and abstains from none, is a profligate, but the man 
 who shuns all (like him whom we call a " boor ") is 
 devoid of sensibility.* For temperance and courage 
 
 * These two, the " boor " (a-ypoueos) and he who lacks sensibility 
 , are afterwards distinguished : cf. II. 7,' 3 and 13. 
 
38 NICOMACHEAN- ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. II. 
 
 are destroyed both by excess and defect, but pre- 
 served by moderation. 
 
 But habits or types of character are not only pro- 8 
 duced and preserved and destroyed by the same occa- 
 sions and the same means, but they will also manifest 
 themselves in the same circumstances. This is the 
 case with palpable things like strength. Strength is 
 produced by taking plenty of nourishment and doing 
 plenty of hard work, and the strong man, in turn, has 
 the greatest capacity for these. And the case is the 9 
 same with the virtues : by abstaining from pleasure 
 we become temperate, and when we have become 
 temperate we are best able to abstain. And so with / 
 courage : by habituating ourselves to despise danger, ' 
 and to face it, we become courageous ; and when we 
 have become courageous, we are best able to face 
 danger. 
 
 3. The pleasure or pain that accompanies the acts 1 
 must be taken as a test of the formed habit or character. 
 He who abstains from the pleasures of the .body and 
 rejoices in the abstinence is temperate, while he who 
 is vexed at having to abstain is profligate ; and again, 
 he who faces danger with pleasure, or, at any rate, 
 without pain, is courageous, but he to whom this is 
 painful is a coward. 
 
 For moral virtue or excellence is closely con- 
 cerned with pleasure and pain. ^lt is pleasure tha 
 moves us to do what is base, and pain that moves u 
 to refrain from what is noble.) And therefore, a 
 Plato says, man needs to be so trained from his youth 
 up as to find pleasure and pain in the right object- 
 This is what sound education means. 
 
 
2, 8-3, 7.] MORAL VIRTUE. 39 
 
 3 Another reason why virtue has to do with pleasure 
 and pain, is that it has to do with actions and passions 
 or affections ; but every affection and every act is j 
 accompanied by pleasure or pain. 
 
 4 The fact is further attested by the employment of 
 pleasure and pain in correction ; they have a kind of 
 curative property, and a cure is effected by administer-, 
 ing the opposite of the disease. 
 
 5 Again, as we said before, every type of character 
 [or habit or formed faculty] is essentially relative to, 
 and concerned with, those things that form it for good 
 or for ill ; but it is through pleasure and pain that bad 
 characters are formed that is to say, through pur- 
 suing and avoiding the wrong pleasures and pains, or 
 pursuing and avoiding them at the wrong time, or in 
 the wrong manner, or in any other of the various 
 ways of going wrong that may be distinguished. 
 
 And hence some people go so far as to define the 
 virtues as a kind of impassive or neutral state of 
 mind. But they err in stating this absolutely, instead 
 of qualifying it by the addition of the right and wrong 
 manner, time, etc. 
 
 6 We may lay down, therefore, that this kind of 
 excellence [i.e. moral excellence] makes us do what is 1 
 best in matters of pleasure and pain, while vice or j 
 badness has the contrary effect. 
 
 7 The following considerations will throw additional 
 light on the point. 
 
 There are three kinds of things that move us to 
 choose, and three that move us to avoid them : on the 
 one hand, the beautiful or noble, the advantageous, 
 the pleasant ; on the other hand, the ugly or base, the 
 
40 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. II. 
 
 hurtful, the painful. Now, the good man is apt to 
 go right, and the bad man to go wrong, about them 
 all, but especially about pleasure : for pleasure is not 
 only common to man with animals, but also accom- 
 panies all pursuit or choice ; since the noble, and the 
 advantageous also, are pleasant in idea. 
 
 Again, the feeling of pleasure has bean fostered in 8 
 us all from our infancy by our training, and has thus 
 become so engrained in our life that it can scarce be 
 washed out.* And, indeed, we all more or less make 
 jpleasure our test in judging of actions. For this 9 
 reason too, then, our whole inquiry must be concerned 
 with these matters ; since to be pleased and pained in 
 the right or the wrong way has great influence on our 
 actions. 
 
 And lastly, as Heraclitus says, it is harder to fight 10 
 with pleasure than with wrath, and virtue, like art, is 
 always more concerned with what is harder ; for the 
 harder thejt-askjthe_better is success. For this reason 
 also, then, both [moral] virtue"or excellence and the 
 science of the state must always be concerned with 
 pleasures and pains ; for he that behaves rightly with 
 regard to them will be good, and he that behaves badly 
 will be bad. 
 
 We will take it as established, then, that [moral] 11 
 excellence or virtue has to do with pleasures and pains ; 
 and that the acts which produce it develop it, and 
 also, when differently done, destroy it; and that it 
 manifests itself in the same acts which produced it. 
 
 * Actions and the accompanying feelings of pleasure and pain 
 have so grown together, that it is impossible to separate the former 
 and judge them apart : cf. X. 4, 11. 
 
3, 8-4, 4.] MORAL VIRTUE. 41 
 
 4. But here we may be asked what we mean by 
 saying that men can become just and temperate only virtuous 
 
 -, -i . ,... ,. i , action a, 
 
 by doing what is just and temperate : surely, it may distinct, 
 be said, if their acts are just and temperate, they pr 
 themselves are already just and temperate, as they 
 are grammarians and musicians if they do what is 
 grammatical and musical. 
 
 We may answer, I think, firstly, that this is not 
 quite the case even with the arts. A man ma}^ do 
 something grammatical [or write something correctly] 
 by chance, or at the prompting of another person : he 1 
 will not be grammatical till he not only does something j 
 grammatical, but also does it grammatically [or like a / 1 
 grammatical person], i.e. in virtue of his own know- If 
 ledge of grammar. 
 
 But, secondly, the virtues are not in this point 
 analogous to the arts. The products of art have their 
 excellence in themselves, and so it is enough if when 
 produced they are of a certain quality ; but in the case 
 of the virtues, a man is not said to act justly or tem- 
 perately [or like a just or temperate man] if what he 
 does merely be of a certain sort he must also be in 
 a certain state of mind when he does it ; i.e., first of 
 alUie_must know what he is doing; secondly, Jbe- 
 must_choose it, and choose it for itself ; and, thirdly, 
 his act must be the expresioiL^ La farmed^and ^stable 
 character! TTow, of these conditions, only one, the 
 knowledge, is necessary for the possession of any art ; 
 but for the possession of the virtues knowledge is of 
 little or no avail, while the other conditions that 
 result from repeatedly doing what is just and teu& 
 perate are not a little important, but all-important. . 
 
 
42 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. II. 
 
 The tKing that is done, therefore, is called just or 4 
 temperate when it is such as the just or temperate 
 man would do ; but the man who does it is not just or 
 temperate, unless he also does it in the spirit of the 
 just or the temperate man. 
 
 It is right, then, to say that by doing what is just 5 
 a man becomes just, and temperate by doing what is 
 temperate, while without doing thus he has no chance 
 of ever becoming good. 
 
 But most men, instead of doing thus, fly to 6 
 theories, and fancy that they are philosophizing and 
 that this will make them good, like a sick man who 
 listens attentively to what the doctor says and then 
 disobeys all his orders. This sort of philosophizing 
 will no more produce a healthy habit of mind than this 
 sort of treatment will produce a healthy habit of body. 
 
 V 5. We have next to inquire what excellence or 1 
 
 ... Jbcl 
 
 virtue is. ^7 
 
 Everything psychical Is either (1) a passion or y 
 emotion, or (2) a power or faculty, or (3) a habit or ( 
 trained faculty; and so virtue must be one of these ' 
 three. By (1) a passion or emotion we mean appetite, 2 
 .anger, fear, confidence, envy, joy, love, hate, longing, i 
 emulation, pity, or generally that which is accompanied 1 
 by pleasure or pain ; (2) a power or faculty is that in 
 respect of which we are said to be capable of being 
 affected in any of these ways, as, for instance, that in 
 respect of which we are able to be angered or pained 
 or to pity; and (3) a habit or trained faculty is 
 that in respect of which we are well or ill regulated 
 or disposed in the matter of our affections ; as, for 
 instance, in the matter of being angered, we are ill 
 
4, 5-6, 1.] MORAL VIRTUE. 43 
 
 regulated if we are too violent or too slack, but if we 
 are moderate in our anger we are well regulated. 
 And so with the rest. 
 
 j Now, the virtues are not emotions, nor are the 
 vices (1) because we are not called good or bad in 
 respect of our emotions, but are called so in respect 
 of our virtues or vices; (2) because we are neither 
 praised nor blamed in respect of our emotions (a man 
 is not praised for being afraid or angry, nor blamed 
 for being angry simply, but for being angry in a 
 particular way), but we are praised or blamed in re- 
 
 4 spect of our virtues or vices ; (3) because we may be 
 angered or frightened without deliberate choice, but 
 the virtues are a kind of deliberate choice, or at least 
 are impossible without it ; and (4) because in respect 
 
 of our emotions we are said to be moved, but in. I 
 
 \i 
 
 respect of our virtues and vices we are not said to be [ 
 moved, but to be regulated or disposed in this way or | 
 in that. 
 
 5 For these same reasons also they are not powers 
 or faculties ; for we are not called either good or bad 
 for being merely capable of emotion, nor are we either 
 praised or blamed for this. And further, while 
 nature gives us our powers or faculties, she does not 
 make us either good or bad. (This point, however, we 
 have already treated.) 
 
 n, the virtues be neither emotions nor /-I 
 ,, it only remains for them to be habits or 1 1 
 culties. I/ 
 
 e have thus found the genus to which virtue ^ the 
 but we want to know, not only that it is a 
 culty, but also what species of trained faculty 
 
44 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. II. 
 
 We may safely assert that the virtue or excellence 2 
 of a thing causes that thing both to be itself in good 
 condition and to perform its function well. The ex- 
 cellence of the eye, for instance, makes both the eye 
 and its work good ; for it is by the excellence of the 
 eye that we see well. So the proper excellence of the 
 horse makes a horse what he should be, and makes 
 him good at running, and carrying his rider, and 
 standing a charge. 
 
 If, then, this holds good in all cases, the proper 3 
 excellence or virtue of man will be a habit or trained 
 faculty that makes a man good and makes him per- 
 form his function well. 
 
 How this is to be done we have already said, but 4 
 we may exhibit the same conclusion in another way, 
 by inquiring what the nature of this virtue is. 
 
 Now, if we have any quantity, whether continuous 
 or discrete,* it is possible to take either a larger [or 
 too large], or a smaller [or too small], or an equal [or 
 fair] amount, and that either absolutely or relatively 
 to our own needs. 
 
 By an equal or fair amount I understand a mean 
 amount, or one that lies between excess and deficiency. 
 
 By the absolute mean, or mean relatively to the 5 
 thing itself, I understand that which is equidistant 
 from both extremes, and this is one and the same 
 for all. 
 
 By the mean relatively to us I understand that 
 
 * A line (or a generous emotion) is a " continuous quantity ; " 
 yon can part it where you please : a rouleau of sovereigns is a 
 "discrete quantity," made up of definite parts, and primarily 
 separable into them. 
 
6, 2-10.] MORAL VIKTUB. 45 
 
 6 which is neither too much nor too little for us ; and f 
 this is not one and the same for all. 
 
 For instance, if ten be larger [or too large] and 
 two be smaller [or too small], if we take six we take 
 the mean relatively to the thing itself [or the 
 
 7 arithmetical mean]; for it exceeds one extreme by 
 the same amount by which it is exceeded by the other 
 extreme: and this is the mean in arithmetical pro- 
 portion. 
 
 But the mean relatively to us cannot be found in 
 this way. If ten pounds of food is too much for a 
 given man to eat, and two pounds too little, it does 
 not follow that the trainer will order him six pounds : 
 for that also may perhaps be too much for the man in 
 question, or too little ; too little for Milo, too much 
 for the beginner. The same holds true in running 
 and wrestling. 
 
 8 And so we may say generally that a master in any 
 art avoids what is too much and what is too little, 
 and seeks for the mean and chooses it not the 
 absolute but the relative mean. 
 
 9 Every art or science, then, perfects its work in this 
 way, looking to the mean and bringing its work up 
 to this standard ; so that people are wont to say of a 
 good work that nothing could be taken from it or 
 added to it, implying that excellence is destroyed by 
 excess or deficiency, but secured by observing the 
 mean. And good artists, as we say, do in fact keep 
 their eyes fixed on this in all that they do. 
 
 Virtue therefore, since like nature it is more exact 
 
 and better than any art, must also aim at the mean 
 
 10 virtue of course meaning moral virtue or excellence ; 
 
46 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. I.BK. II. 
 
 for it has to do with passions and actions, and it is 
 these that admit of excess and deficiency and the 
 mean. For instance, it is possible to feel fear, con- 
 fidence, desire, anger, pity, and generally to be affected 
 pleasantly and painfully, either too much or too little, 
 in either case wrongly ; but to be thus affected at the l 
 right times, and on the right occasions, and towards 
 the right persons, and with the right object, and in 
 the right fashion, is the mean course and the best 
 course, and these are characteristics of virtue. And r. 
 in the same way our outward acts also admit of 
 excess and deficiency, and the mean or due amount. 
 i Virtue, then, has to deal with feelings or passions 
 | and with outward acts, in which excess is wrong and 
 | deficiency also is blamed, but the mean amount is 
 | praised and is right both of which are characteristics 
 ' of virtue. 
 
 /Virtue, then, is a kind of moderation (JUCO-OTTJC rig)* 15 
 inasmuch as it aims at the mean or moderate amount 
 (ro jul<Tov). 
 
 Again, there are many ways of going wrong (for 14 
 evil is infinite in nature, to use a Pythagorean figure, 
 while good is finite), but only one way of going right ; 
 so that the one is easy and the other hard easy to 
 miss the mark and hard to hit. On this account also, 
 then, excess and deficiency are characteristic of vice, 
 hitting the mean is characteristic of virtue : 
 
 " Goodness is simple, ill takea any shape." 
 
 Virtue, then^is a habit or trained faculty of choice, 15 
 
 * v.f<r6Tir)s, the abstract name for the quality, is quite untrans- 
 latable. 
 
6, H-0. MORAL VIRTUE. 47 
 
 the characteristic of which lies in observing the, mean 
 relatively to the persons concerned, and which is 
 guided by reason, i.e. by the judgment of the j 
 dent man. 
 
 And it is a moderation, firstly, inasmuch as it 
 comes in the middle or mean between two vices, one 
 on the side of ^excess, the other on the side ofjlefect ; 
 and, secondly, inasmuch as, while these vices fall short 
 of or exceed the due measure in feeling and in action, 
 it finds and chooses the mean, middling, or moderate 
 amount. 
 
 J Regarded in its essence, therefore, or according to 
 he definition of its nature, virtue is a moderation 
 >r middle state, but viewed in its relation to what is 
 >est and right it is the extreme of perfection. 
 
 18 But it is not all actions nor all passions that admif^' I/* 
 of moderation; there are some whose~very names? 
 imply badness, as malevolence, shamelessness, envy,0 " 
 and, among acts, adultery, theft, murder. These anrq 
 
 all other like things are blamed as being bad in them- 
 selves, and not merely in their excess or deficiency. 
 It is impossible therefore to go right in them;_tliey 
 are always wrong : Tightness and wrongness in such 
 things (e.g. in adultery) does not depend upon whether 
 it is the right person and occasion and manner, but 
 the mere doing of any one of them is wrong. 
 
 19 It would be equally absurd to look for modera- 
 tion or excess or deficiency in unjust cowardly or 
 profligate conduct ; for then there would be modera- 
 tion in excess or deficiency, and excess in excess, and 
 deficiency in deficiency. 
 
 20' The fact is that just as there can be no excess 
 
48 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BE. II. 
 
 or deficiency in temperance or courage because the 
 mean or moderate amount is, in a sense, an extreme, 
 so in these kinds of conduct also there can be no 
 moderation or excess or deficiency, but the acts are 
 wrong however they be done. For, to put it gene- 
 rally, there cannot be moderation in excess or de- . 
 ficiency, nor excess or deficiency in moderation. 
 ms must be 7, But it is not enough to make these general state- 1 
 
 Applied to 
 
 ments [about virtue and vice] : we must go on and 
 apply them to particulars [i.e. to the several virtues 
 and vices]. For in reasoning about matters of conduct 
 general statements are too vague,* and do not 6onvey 
 so much truth as particular propositions. It is with 
 particulars that conduct is concerned:! our state- 
 ments, therefore, when applied to these particulars, 
 should be found to hold good. 
 
 These particulars then [i.e. the several virtues and 
 vices and the several acts and. affections with which 
 they deal], we will take from the following table. J 
 
 Moderation in the feelings of fear and confidence\2 
 is courage: of those that exceed, he that exceeds 
 in fearlessness has no name (as often happens), but 
 he that exceeds in confidence is foolhardy, while he 
 that exceeds in fear, but is deficient in confidence, is 
 cowardly. 
 
 * Or " cover more ground, but convey less truth than particular 
 propositions," if we read Koivdrfpot with most manuscripts. 
 
 f In a twofold sense : my conduct cannot be virtuous except by 
 exhibiting the particular virtues of justice, temperance, etc. ; again, 
 my conduct cannot be just except by being jnst in pjarticular^cases to 
 particular persons. ' 
 
 J The Greek seems to imply that this is a generally accepted list, 
 but Aristotle repeatedly has to coin names : cf. infra, 11. 
 
7, 1-8.-] MORAL VIRTUE. 49 
 
 3 Moderation in aspect of certain pleasures and 
 also (though to , less extent) certain pains is 
 temperance, while excess is profligacy. But defect- 
 iveness in the matter of these pleasures is hardly ever 
 found, and so this sort of people also have as yet 
 received no name : let us put them down as " void of 
 sensibility." 
 
 4 In the matter of giving and taking money, modera- 
 tion is liberality, excess and deficiency are prodigality 
 and illiberality. But these two vices exceed and fall 
 short in contrary ways: the prodigal exceeds in 
 spending, but falls short in taking ; while the illiberal 
 man exceeds in taking, but falls short in spending. 
 
 5 (For the present we are but giving an outline or 
 summary, and aim at nothing more ; we shall after- 
 wards treat these points in greater detail.) 
 
 6 But, besides these, there are other dispositions in 
 the matter of money : there is a moderation which is 
 called magnificence (for the magnificent is not the 
 same as the liberal man : the former deals with large 
 sums, the latter with small), and an excess which is 
 called bad taste or vulgarity, and a deficiency which . 
 is called meanness ; and these vices differ from those 
 which are opposed to liberality : how they differ will 
 
 -be explained later. 
 
 \ With respect to honour and disgrace, there is a 
 moderation which is high-mindedness, an excess which 
 ^ may be called vanity, and a deficiency which is little- 
 mindedness. 
 
 But just as we said that liberality is related to 
 magnificence, differing only in that it deals with small 
 sums, so here there is a virtue related to high-minded- 
 
 E 
 
50 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. II. 
 
 ness, and differing only in that it is concerned with 
 small instead of great honours. A man may have a 
 due desire for honour, and also more or less than 
 a due desire : he that carries this desire to excess is 
 called ambitious, he that has not enough of it is called 
 unambitious, but he that has the due amount has no 
 name. There are also no abstract names for the cha- 
 racters, except "ambition," corresponding to ambitious. 
 And on this account those who occupy the extreme^ 
 lay claim to the middle place. And in common 
 parlance, too, the moderate man is sometimes called 
 ambitious and sometimes unambitious, and some- 
 times the ambitious man is praised and sometimes 
 the unambitious. Why this is we will explain 9 
 afterwards ; for the present we will follow out our 
 plan and enumerate the other types of character. 
 
 In the matter of anger also we find excess and 10 
 deficiency and moderation. The characters themselves 
 hardly have recognized names, but as the moderate 
 man is here called gentle, we will call his character 
 gentleness ; of those who go into extremes, we may 
 take the term wrathful for him who exceeds, with 
 wrathfulness for the vice, and wrathless for him who 
 is deficient, with wrathlessness for his character. 
 
 Besides these, there are three kinds of moderation, 11 
 bearing some resemblance to one another, and yet 
 different. They all have to do with intercourse in 
 speech and action, but they differ in that one has to 
 do with the truthfulness of this intercourse, while the 
 other two have to do with its pleasantness one of 
 the two with pleasantness in matters of amusement, 
 the other with pleasantness in all the relations of * 
 
7, 9-14.] MORAL VIRTUE. 51 
 
 life. We must therefore speak of these qualities also 
 in order that we may the more plainly see how, in 
 all cases, moderation is praiseworthy, while the ex- 
 treme courses are neither right nor praiseworthy, 
 but blamable. 
 
 In these cases also names are for the most part 
 wanting, but we must try, here as elsewhere, to coin 
 names ourselves, in order to make our argument clear 
 and easy to follow. 
 
 12 In the matter of truth, then, let us call him who 
 observes the mean a true [or truthful] person, and 
 observance of the mean truth [or truthfulness] : pre- 
 tence, when it exaggerates, may be called boasting, 
 and the person a boaster ; when it understates, let the 
 names be irony and ironical. 
 
 1.3 With regard to pleasantness in amusement, he who 
 observes the mean may be called witty, and his 
 character wittiness ; excess may be called buffoonery, 
 and the man a buffoon ; while boorish may stand for 
 the person who is deficient, and boorishness for his 
 character. 
 
 With regard to pleasantness in the other affairs 
 of life, he who makes himself properly pleasant may 
 be called Jrjendly, and his moderation friendliness; 
 he that exceeds may be called obsequious if he have 
 no ulterior motive, but a flatterer if he has an eye to 
 his own advantage ; he that is deficient in this respect, 
 and always makes himself disagreeable, may be called 
 a quarrelsome or peevish fellow. 
 
 14 Moreover, in mere emotions * and in our conduct 
 with regard to them, there are ways of observing the 
 
 * i.e. which do not issue in act like those hitherto mentioned. 
 
52 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. II. 
 
 mean; for instance, shame (aiSw^), is not a virtue, 
 but yet the modest (m&jjuwv) man is praised. For in 
 these matters also we speak of this man as observing 
 the mean, of that man as going beyond it (as the 
 shame-faced man whom the least thing makes shy), 
 while he who is deficient in the feeling, or lacks it 
 altogether, is called shameless ; but the term modest 
 (aic^/iwv) is applied to him who observes the mean. 
 
 Righteous indignation, again, hits the mean be- 
 tween envy and malevolence. These have to do with 15 
 feelings of pleasure and pain at what happens to 
 our neighbours. A man is called righteously indig- 
 nant when he feels pain at the sight of undeserved 
 prosperity, but your envious man goes beyond him 
 and is pained by the sight of any one in prosperity, 
 while the malevolent man is so far from being pained 
 that he actually exults in the sight of prosperous 
 iniquity. 
 
 But we shall have another opportunity of discuss- 16 
 ing these matters. 
 
 As for justice, the term is used in more senses than 
 one ; we will, therefore, after disposing of the above 
 questions, distinguish these .various senses, and show 
 how each of these kinds of justice is a kind of 
 moderation. 
 
 And then we will treat of the intellectual virtues 
 in the same way. 
 The two 8. There are, as we said, three classes of disposition 
 
 vicious . . 
 
 extremes are viz. two kinds oi vice, one marked bv excess the 
 
 opposed to J 
 
 nd a tothe r ^ ner "y deficiency, and one kind of virtue, the ob- 
 servance of the mean. 
 
 Now, the extreme dispositions are opposed both 
 
7, 15-8, 5.] MORAL VIRTUE. 53 
 
 to the mean or moderate disposition and to one 
 another, while the moderate disposition is opposed to 
 both the extremes. Just as a quantity which is equal 
 to a given quantity is also greater when compared 
 with a less, and less when compared with a greater 
 quantity, so the mean or moderate dispositions exceed 
 as compared with the defective dispositions, and fall 
 short as compared with the excessive dispositions, both 
 in feeling and in action ; e.g. the courageous man seems 
 foolhardy as compared with the coward, and cowardly 
 as compared with the foolhardy; and similarly the 
 temperate man appears profligate in comparison with 
 the insensible, and insensible in comparison with the 
 profligate man ; and the liberal man appears prodigal 
 by the side of the illiberal man, and illiberal by the 
 side of the prodigal man. 
 
 And so the extreme characters try to displace the 
 mean or moderate character, and each represents him 
 as falling into the opposite extreme, the coward calling 
 the courageous man foolhardy, the foolhardy calling 
 him coward, and so on in other cases. 
 
 But while the mean and the extremes are thus 
 opposed to one another, the extremes are still more 
 contrary to each other than to the mean ; for they are 
 further removed from one another than from the 
 mean,( as that which is greater than a given magni- 
 tude is further from that which is less, and that which 
 is less is further from that which is greater, than 
 either the greater or the less is from that which is 
 equal to the given magnitude. 
 
 Sometimes, again, an extreme, when compared 
 with the mean, has a sort of resemblance to it, as fool- 
 
51 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. II. 
 
 hardiness to courage, or prodigality to liberality ; but 
 there is the greatest possible dissimilarity between 
 the extremes. 
 
 Again, " things that are as far as possible removed 
 from each other" is the accepted definition of con- 
 traries, so that the further things are removed from 
 each other the more contrary they are. 
 
 In comparison with the mean, however, it is some- 6 
 times the deficiency that is the more opposed, and 
 sometimes the excess; e.g. foolhardiness, which is 
 excess, is not so much opposed to courage as cowardice, 
 which is deficiency ; but insensibility, which is lack 
 of feeling, is not so much opposed to temperance as 
 profligacy, which is excess. 
 
 The reasons for this are two. One is the reason 7 
 derived from the nature of the matter itself: since 
 one extreme is, in fact, nearer and more similar to 
 the mean, we naturally do not oppose it to the mean 
 so strongly as the other ; e.g. as foolhardiness seems 
 more similar to courage and nearer to it, and cowardice 
 more dissimilar, we speak of cowardice as the opposite 
 rather than the other : for that which is further re- 
 moved from the mean seems to be more opposed to it. 
 
 This, then, is one reason, derived from the nature 8 
 of the thing itself. Another reason lies in ourselves : 
 and it is this those things to which we happen 
 to be more prone by nature appear to be more op- 
 posed to the mean: e.g. our natural inclination is 
 rather towards indulgence in pleasure, and so we more 
 easily fall into profligate than into regular habits: 
 those courses, then, in which we are more apt to run to 
 great lengths are spoken of as more opposed to the 
 
8, 6-9, 4.J MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 mean ; and thus profligacy, which is an excess, is more 
 opposed to temperance than the deficiency is. 
 
 1 9. We have sufficiently explained, then, that moral The mean 
 virtue is moderation or observance of the mean, and at 
 
 in what sense, viz. (1) as holding a middle position. ^ 
 between two vices, one on the side of excess, and 
 other on the side of deficiency, and (2) &s aiming at 
 the mean or moderate amount both in feeling and in 
 action. 
 
 2 And on this account it is a hard thing to be good ; 
 for finding the middle or the mean in each case 
 is a hard thing, just as finding the middle or centre 
 of a circle is a thing that is not within the power of 
 everybody, but only of him who has the requisite 
 knowledge. 
 
 Thus any one can be angry that is quite easy ; 
 any one can give money away or spend it : but to do 
 these things to the right person, to the right extent, 
 at the right time, with the right object, and in the 
 right manner, is not what everybody can do, and is 
 by no means easy ; and that is the reason why right 
 doing is rare and praiseworthy and noble. 
 
 3 He that aims at the mean, then, should first of all 
 strive to avoid that extreme which is more opposed 
 to it, as Calypso * bids Ulysses 
 
 " Clear of these smoking breakers keep thy ship." 
 
 4 For of the extremes one is more dangerous, the 
 other less. Since then it is hard to hit the mean 
 precisely, we must " row when we cannot sail," as 
 the proverb has it, and choose the least of two evils ; 
 
 * Horn., Od., xii. 101-110, and 219-220 : Calypso should be Circe. 
 
56 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. II.] 
 
 and that will be best effected in the way we have 
 described. 
 
 And secondly we must consider, each for himself, 
 what we are most prone to for different natures are 
 inclined to different things which we may learn by 
 the pleasure or pain we feel. And then we must bend 5 
 ourselves in the opposite direction; for by keeping 
 well away from error we shall fall into the middle 
 course, as we straighten a bent stick by bending it 
 the other way. 
 
 But in all cases we must be especially on our guard 6 
 against pleasant things, and against pleasure ; for we 
 can scarce judge her impartially. And so, in our 
 behaviour towards her, we should imitate the be- 
 haviour of the old counsellors towards Helen,* and 
 in all cases repeat their saying : if we dismiss her we 
 shall be less likely to go wrong. 
 
 This then, in outline, is the course by which we 7 
 shall best be able to hit the mean. 
 
 But it is a hard task, we must admit, especially in 
 a particular case. It is not easy to determine, for 
 instance, how and with whom one ought to be angry, 
 and upon what grounds, and for how long ; for public 
 opinion sometimes praises those who fall short, and 
 calls them gentle, and sometimes applies the term 
 manly to those who show a harsh temper. 
 
 In fact, a slight error, whether on the side of excess 8 
 or deficiency, is not blamed, but only a considerable 
 error; for then there can be no mistake. But it is 
 hardly possible to determine by reasoning how far or 
 to what extent a man must err in order to incur 
 
 * Horn., II., iii. 154-160 
 
9, 5-9.] MORAL VIRTUE. 57 
 
 blame ; and indeed matters that fall within the scope 
 of perception never can be so determined. Such 
 matters lie within the region of particulars, and can 
 only be determined by perception. 
 
 So much then is plain, that the middle character 
 is in all cases to be praised, but that we ought to incline 
 sometimes towards excess, sometimes towards defi- 
 ciency ; for in this way we shall most easily hit the 
 mean and attain to right doing. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTERS 1-5. THE WILL. 
 
 An act is 1. VIRTUE, as we have seen, has to do with feel- i 
 
 ings and actions. Now, praise* or blame is given 
 only to what is voluntary ; that which is involuntary 
 
 mrough receives pardon, and sometimes even pity. 
 
 ffi mam* not It seems, therefore, that a clear distinction between 
 the voluntary and the involuntary is necessary for 
 those who are investigating the nature of virtue, and 
 
 o/thecir- will also help legislators in assigning rewards and 
 
 cumstances: . , 
 
 voluntary punishments. 
 
 originated That is generally held to be involuntary which is 2 
 
 with know- J J ^ 
 
 ledge of dr- done under compulsion or through ignorance. 
 
 cumstances. * c 
 
 "Done under compulsion" means that the cause 3 
 is external, the agent or patient contributing nothing 
 towards it; as, for instance, if he. were carried some- 
 where by a whirlwind or by men whom he could not 
 resist. 
 
 But there is some question about acts done in order 4 
 to avoid a greater evil, or to obtain some noble end ; 
 e.g. if a tyrant were to order you to do something dis- 
 
 * It must be remembered that " virtue " is synonymous with 
 "praiseworthy habit j" I. 13, 20; II. 9, 9. 
 
1 ; 1-7.] THE WILL. 59 
 
 graceful, having your parents or children in his power, 
 who were to live if you did it, but to die if you did 
 not it is a matter of dispute whether such acts are 
 involuntary or voluntary. 
 
 Throwing a cargo overboard in a storm is a some- 
 what analogous case. No one voluntarily throws away 
 his property if nothing is to come of it,* but any 
 sensible person would do so to save the life of himself 
 and the crew. 
 
 Acts of this kind, then, are of a mixed nature, but 
 they more nearly resemble voluntary acts. For they 
 are desired or chosen at the time when they are done, 
 and the end or motive of an act is that which is in 
 view at the time. In applying the terms voluntary 
 and involuntary, therefore, we must consider the 
 state of the agent's mind at the time. Now, he wills 
 the act at the time; for the cause which sets the 
 limbs going lies in the agent in such cases, and where 
 the cause lies in the agent, it rests with him to do 
 or not to do\ 
 
 Such acts, then, are voluntary, though in them- 
 selves [or apart from these qualifying circumstances] 
 we may allow them to be involuntary; for no one 
 would choose anything of this kind on its own account. 
 
 And, in fact, for actions of this sort men are 
 sometimes praised,f e>g> when they endure something 
 disgraceful or painful in order to secure some great 
 and noble result : but in the contrary case they are 
 
 * a,Tr\a>s, " without qualification : " no one chooses loss of property 
 simply, but loss of property with saving of life is what all sensible 
 people would choose. 
 
 t Which shows that the acts are regarded as voluntary. 
 
60 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 blamed ; for no worthy person would endure the ex- 
 tremity of disgrace when there was no noble result in 
 view, or but a trifling one. 
 
 But in some cases we do not praise, but pardon, 
 i.e. when a man is induced to do a wrong act by 
 pressure which is too strong for human nature and 
 which no one could bear. Though there are some cases 8 
 of this kind, I think, where the plea of compulsion is 
 inadmissible,* and where, rather than do the act, a 
 man ought to suffer death in its most painful form ; 
 for instance, the circumstances which "compelled" 
 Alcmseon in Euripides f to kill his mother seem absurd. 
 
 It is sometimes hard s to decide whether we ought 9 
 to do this deed to avoid this evil, or whether we ought 
 to endure this evil rather than do this deed ; but it is 
 still harder to abide by our decisions : for generally 
 the evil which we wish to avoid is something painful, 
 the deed we are pressed to do is something disgrace- 
 ful ; and hence we are blamed or praised according as 
 we do or do not suffer ourselves to be compelled. 
 
 What kinds of acts, then, are to be called com- ic 
 pulsory ? 
 
 I think our answer must be that, in the first place, 
 
 * OVK iffTiv avayKaaQrivcu, " compulsion is impossible." If the act 
 was compulsory it was not my act, I cannot be blamed : there are 
 some .acts, says Aristotle, for which we could not forgive a man, for 
 which, whatever the circumstances, we must blame him j therefore no 
 circumstances can compel him, or compulsion is impossible. The 
 argument is, in fact, " I ought not, therefore I can not (am able not 
 to do it)," like Kant's, " I ought, therefore I can." But, if valid at 
 all, it is valid universally, and the cc. * 1( \should be that the 
 body only can be compelled, and not the - * ~^at a compulsory 
 act is impossible. \^ 
 
 ~~ t The play alluded to seems to be en ' rtl 7 lost. \ - - 
 
1, 8-11.] THE WILL. 61 
 
 when the cause lies outside and the agent has no part 
 in it, the act is called, without qualification, "com- 
 pulsory " [and therefore involuntary] ; but that, in the 
 second place, when an act that would not be volun- 
 tarily done for its own sake is chosen now in prefer- 
 ence to this given alternative, the cause lying in the 
 agent, such an act must be called "involuntary in 
 itself," or " in the abstract," but " now, and in pre- 
 ference to this alternative, voluntary." But an act 
 of the latter kind is rather of the nature of a 
 voluntary act : for acts fall within the sphere of par- 
 ticulars ; and here the particular thing that is done is 
 voluntary. , 
 
 It is scarcely possible, however, to lay down rules 
 for determining which of two alternatives is to be 
 ^referred; for there are many differences in the 
 ( particular cases. 
 
 [t might, perhaps, be urged that acts whose motive 
 Something pleasant or something noble are com- 
 pulsory, for here we are constrained by something 
 outside us. " 
 
 But if this were so, all our acts would be com- 
 pulsory; for these are the motives of every act of 
 every man.* 
 
 Again, acting under compulsion and against one's 
 will is painful, but action whose motive is something 
 pleasant or noble involves pleasure.! 
 
 * Therefore, strictly speaking, a " compulsory act " is a contra- 
 diction in terms ; the real question is, " What is an act ? " 
 
 f Therefore, since ft are the motives of every act, all volun- 
 tary action involves plr-sure. If we add "when successful," this 
 quite agrees with Arisr/ L le's theory of pleasure in Books VIL 
 audX. 
 
62 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 It is absurd, then, to blame things outside us 
 instead of our own readiness to yield to their allure- 
 ments, and, while we claim our noble acts as our own, 
 to set down our disgraceful actions to "pleasant 
 things outside us." 
 
 A Compulsory, then, it appears, is that of which the 
 cause is external, the person compelled contributing 
 nothing thereto.^ 
 
 What is done through ignorance is always " not- 
 voluntary," but is " involuntary " * when the agent 
 is pained afterwards and sorry when he finds what 
 he has done.f For when a man, who has done 
 something through ignorance, is not vexed at what 
 he has done, you cannot indeed say that he did it 
 voluntarily, as he did not know what he was doing, 
 but neither can you say that he did, it involuntarily 
 or unwillingly, since he is not sorry. 
 
 A man who has acted through ignorance, then, if he 
 is sorry afterwards, is held to have done the deed in- 
 voluntarily or unwillingly ; if he is not sorry after- 
 wards we may say (to mark the distinction) he did the 
 deed " not-voluntarily ; " for, as the case is different, it 
 is better to have a distinct name. 
 
 Acting through ignorance, however, seems to be/(i 
 different from acting in ignorance. For instance,/! 
 when a man is drunk or in a rage he is not thought/ 
 
 * i.e. not merely " not-willed," but done "unwillingly," or 
 " against the agent's will." Unfortunately our usage recognizes no 
 such distinction between " not-voluntary " and " involuntary." 
 
 t eV /iera/teA.ei'a, lit. "when the act involves change of mind." 
 This, under the circumstances, can only mean that the agent who 
 willed the act, not seeing the true nature of it at the time, is sorry 
 afterwards, when he comes to see what he has done. 
 
1, 12-17.] THE WILL. 63 
 
 to act through ignorance, but through intoxication or 
 rage, and yet not knowingly, but in ignorance. 
 
 Every vicious man, indeed, is ignorant of* what 
 ought to be done and what ought not to be done, and 
 it is this kind of error that makes men unjust and 
 
 15 bad generally. But the term " involuntary " is not 
 properly applied to cases in which a man is ignorant 
 of what is fitting.-f The ignorance that makes an 
 act involuntary is not this ignorance of the principles 
 which should determine preference (this constitutes 
 vice), not, I say, this ignorance of the universal (for 
 we blame a man for this), but ignorance of the 
 particular occasion and circumstances of the act. 
 
 16 These are the grounds of pity and pardon; for he 
 who is ignorant of any of these particulars acts 
 involuntarily. 
 
 It may be as well, then, to specify what these 
 particulars are, and how many. They are -first, the 
 doer ; secondly, the deed ; and, thirdly, the circum- 
 stance or occasion of it ; sometimes also that where- 
 with (e.g. the instrument with which) it is done, 
 and that for the sake of which it is done (e.g. for 
 protection), and the way in which it is done (e.g. 
 gently or violently. ) 
 
 17 Now, a man cannot (unless he be mad) be igno- 
 
 * .0. forms a wrong judgment ; cf. TJ fioxO-npia Sm^cu&eotfot iroiei 
 
 irepl ras irpaKTiKai apxds, VI. 12, 10 : not that the vicious man does 
 
 . not know that such a course is condemned by society, but he does 
 
 not assent to society's rules adopts other maxims contrary to them. 
 
 f rb ffv/j.<t>epov, what conduces to a given end, expedient. The 
 meaning of the term varies with the end in view : here the end in 
 view is the supreme end, happiness : rb trv^epov^ then, means here 
 the rule of conduct to which, in a given case, the agent must con- ,/** 
 form in order to realize this end ; cf. II. 2, 3. / \ 
 
 A: 
 
64 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AK1STOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 rant of all these particulars ; for instance, he evidently 
 cannot be ignorant of the doer : for how can he not 
 know himself? 
 
 But a man may be ignorant of what he is doing ; 
 e.g. a man who has said something will sometimes 
 plead that the words escaped him unawares, or that 
 he did not know that the subject was forbidden (as 
 ^Eschylus pleaded in the case of the Mysteries) ; or a 
 man might plead that when he discharged the weapon 
 he only intended lo show the working of it, as the 
 prisoner did in the catapult case. Again, a man might 
 mistake his son for an enemy, as Merope * did, or a 
 sharp spear for one with a button, or a heavy stone for 
 a pumice-stone. Again, one might kill a man with 
 a blow intended to save him, or strike a serious blow 
 when one only wished to show how a blow should 
 be delivered (as boxers do when they spar with open 
 hands). 
 
 Ignorance, then, being possible with regard to all 1 
 these circumstances, he who is ignorant of any of them I 
 is held to have acted involuntarily, and especiallyl 
 when he is ignorant of the most important particulars, ' 
 which are generally taken to be the occasion and the 
 result.f 
 
 / Besides this, however, the agent must be grieved 19 
 and sorry for what he has done, if the act thus igno- 
 rantly committed is to be called involuntary [not 
 merely not-voluntary]. 
 
 * Nothing seems to be known of the case alluded to. 
 
 t rb ov cVe/ca usually is the intended result (and so fveica rlvos in 
 16), but of course it is only the actual result that the agent can be 
 iguorant of. 
 
1, 18-27.] THE WILL. 65 
 
 20 But now, having found that an act is involuntary 
 when done under compulsion or through ignorance, 
 we may conclude that a voluntary act is one which is 
 originated by the doer with knowledge of the parti- 
 cular circumstances of the act. 
 
 21 For I venture to think that it is incorrect to say 
 that acts done through anger or desire are involuntary. 
 
 Tn the first place, if this be so we can no longer 
 aJQrp- that any of the other animals act voluntarily, 
 noi < ven children. 
 
 Again, does the saying mean that none of the acts 
 
 li we do through desire or anger are voluntary, or 
 
 that the noble ones are voluntary and the disgraceful 
 
 involuntary ? Interpreted in the latter sense, it 
 
 rely ridiculous, as one man is the author of both. 
 
 e take the former interpretation, it is absurd, I 
 
 k, to say that we ought to desire a thing, and also to 
 
 that its pursuit is involuntary ; but, in fact, there 
 
 things at which we ought to be angry, and things 
 
 ch we ought to desire, e.g. health and learning. 
 
 \gain, it seems that what is done unwillingly is 
 
 painful, while what is done through desire is pleasant. 
 
 Again, what difference is there, in respect of in- 
 
 voluntariness, between wrong deeds done upon calcu- 
 
 27 lation and wrong deeds done in anger ? Both alike 
 
 are to be avoided, and our unreasoning passions or 
 
 feelings seem to be just as much our own [as our 
 
 reasonings or calculations]. 
 
 But the fact is that all human actions proceed 
 either from anger or from desire : * to make all such 
 actions involuntary, therefore, would be too absurd., 
 
 * Not that reason or calculation cannot modify action, but it 
 
 ' F 
 
66 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 2, Now that we have distinguished voluntary from 1 
 involuntary acts, our next task is to discuss choice 
 deliberation, or purpose. For it seems to be most intimately con- 
 nected with virtue, and to be a surer test of character 
 than action itself. 
 
 It seems that choosing is willing, but that the two 2 
 terms are not identical, willing being the wider. For 
 children and other animals have will, but not choice 
 or purpose; and acts done upon the spur of the 
 moment are said to be voluntary, but not to be done 
 with deliberate purpose. 
 
 Those who say that choice is appetite, or anger, or 3 
 wish, or an opinion of some sort, do not seem to give 
 a correct account of it. 
 
 In the first place, choice is not shared by irra- 
 tional creatures, but appetite and anger are. 
 
 Again, the incontinent man acts from appetite 4 
 and not from choice or purpose, the continent man 
 from purpose and not from appetite. 
 
 Again, appetite may be contrary to purpose, but 5 
 one appetite can not be contrary to another appetite.* 
 
 Again, the object of appetite [or aversion] is the 
 pleasant or the painful, but the object of purpose [as 
 such] is neither painful nor pleasant. 
 
 can only do so by modifying desire or feeling. Every action (irpa|t$) 
 issues from a feeling or passion (irdOos), which feeling (and there- 
 fore the resultant action) is mine (the outcome of my character, 
 and therefore imputable to me), whether it be modified by reason 
 (deliberation, calculation) or no. 
 
 * Two appetites may pull two different, but not contrary ways 
 (tvavTiovrai) : that which not merely diverts but restrains me from 
 satisfying an appetite must be desire of a different kind, e.g. desire 
 to do what is right. 'EinBv/jLla is used loosely in cap. 1 for desire 
 (opt|js) , here more strictly for appetite, a species of desire, purpose 
 being another species : cf. infra, 3, 19. 
 
2, 1-11.] THE' WILL. 67 
 
 6 Still less can purpose be anger (Ovfj.o^ ; for acts 
 done in anger seeni to be least of all done of purpose 
 or deliberate choice. 
 
 7 Nor yet is it wish, though it seem very like ; for 
 we cannot purpose or deliberately choose the impos- 
 sible, and a man who should say that he did would 
 be thought a fool ; but we may wish for the impossible, 
 e.g. to escape death. 
 
 8 Again, while we may wish what never could be 
 effected by our own agency (e.g. the success of a par- 
 ticular actor or athlete), we never purpose or deliber- 
 ately choose such things, but only those that we think 
 may be effected by our own agency. 
 
 9 Again, we are more properly said to wish the end, 
 to choose the means ; e.g. we wish to be healthy, but 
 we choose what will make us healthy : we wish to be 
 happy, and confess the wish, but it would not be correct 
 to say we purpose or deliberately choose to be happy ; 
 for we may say roundly that purpose or choice deals 
 with what is in our power. 
 
 10 Nor can it be opinion; for, in the first place, 
 anything may be matter of opinion what is un- 
 alterable and impossible no less than what is in 
 our power ; and, in the second place, we distinguish 
 opinion according as it is true or false, not ac- 
 cording as it is good or bad, as we do with purpose 
 or choice. 
 
 We may say, then, that purpose is not the same 
 as opinion in general; nor, indeed, does any one 
 maintain this. 
 
 11 But, further, it is not identical with a particular 
 kind of opinion. For our choice of good or evil 
 
68 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 makes us morally good or bad, holding certain opinions 
 does not. 
 
 Again, we choose to take this or to avoid it, and 12 
 so on ; we opine what its nature is, or what it is good 
 for, or in what way ; but we cannot opine to take or 
 to avoid. 
 
 Again, we commend a purpose for its rightness 13 
 rather than its correctness, an opinion for its truth. 
 
 Again, we choose a thing when we know well 
 that it is good; we may have an opinion about a 
 thing of which we know nothing. 
 
 Again, it seems that those who are best at choosing 
 are not always the best at forming opinions, but that 
 some who have an excellent judgment fail, through 
 depravity, to choose what they ought. 
 
 It may be said that choice or purpose must be 15 
 preceded or accompanied by an opinion or judgment ; 
 but this makes no difference : our question is not that, 
 but whether they are identical. 
 
 What, then, is choice or purpose, since it is none 16 
 of these ? 
 
 It seems, as we said, that what is chosen or pur- 
 posed is willed, but that what is willed is not always 
 chosen or purposed. 
 
 The required differentia, I think, is " after previous 17 
 deliberation." For choice or purpose implies calcu- 
 lation and reasoning. The name itself, too, seems to 
 indicate this, implying that something is chosen before 
 or in preference to other things.* 
 e deliberate 3, Now, as to deliberation, do we deliberate about l 
 
 * irpoalpfo-is, lit. " choosing before." Our " preference " exactly 
 corresponds here, but unfortunately cannot always be employed. 
 
2, 12-3, 7.] THE WILL. 69 
 
 everything, and may anything whatever be matter on what we 
 for deliberation, or are there some things about which on ufc, &* 
 deliberation is impossible ? 
 
 2 By "matter for deliberation" we should under- 
 stand, I think, not what a fool or a maniac, but what / 
 a rational being would deliberate about. *^ 
 
 3 Now, no one deliberates about eternal or unalter- 
 able things, e.g. the system of the heavenly bodies, or 
 the incommensurability of the side and the diagonal 
 of a square. 
 
 4 Again, no one deliberates about things which 
 change, but always change in the same way (whether 
 the cause of change be necessity, or nature, or any 
 
 J5 other agency), e.g. the solstices and the sunrise ; * nor 
 about things that are quite irregular, like drought and 
 wet; nor about matters of chance, like the finding 
 jof a treasure. 
 
 G "3^ Again, even human affairs are not always matter 
 ^of deliberation ; e.g. what would be the best consti- 
 tution for Scythia is a question that no Spartan 
 would deliberate about. 
 
 The reason why we do not deliberate about 
 these things is that none of them are things that 
 we can ourselves effect. 
 
 But the things that we do deliberate about are\ 
 matters of conduct that are within our control. And 1 
 these are the only things that remain; for besides/ 
 nature and necessity and chance, the only remain- 
 ing cause of change is reason and human agency in 
 general. Though we must add that men severally 
 deliberate about what they can themselves do. 
 
 * These are instances of " necessity ; " a tree grows by " nature," 
 i.e. by its own natural powers. 
 
70 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 A further limitation is that where there is exact & 
 and absolute knowledge, there is no room for delibera- 
 tion; e.g. writing: for there is no doubt how the 
 letters should be formed. 
 
 We deliberate, then, about things that are brought 
 about by our own agency, but not always in the same 
 way; e.g. about medicine and money-making, and 
 about navigation more than about gymnastic, inas- 
 much as it is not yet reduced to so perfect a system, 
 and so on ; but more about matters of art than matters 9 
 of science, as there is more doubt about them. 
 
 Matters of deliberation, then, are matters in 10 
 which there are rules that generally hold good, but 
 in which the result cannot be predicted, i.e. in which 
 there is an element of uncertainty. In important 
 matters we call in advisers, distrusting our own 
 powers of judgment. 
 
 It is not about ends, but about means that we 11 
 deliberate. A physician does not deliberate whether 
 he shall heal, nor an orator whether he shall persuade, 
 ; nor a statesman whether he shall make a good system 
 of laws, nor a man in any other profession about his 
 end ; but, having some particular end in view, we con- 
 sider how and by what means this end can be 
 attained ; and if it appear that it can be attained 
 by various means, we further consider which is the 
 easiest and best; but if it can only be attained 
 by one means, we consider how it is to be attained 
 by this means, and how this means itself is to be 
 secured, and so on, until we come to the first link 
 in the chain of causes, which is last in the order of 
 discovery. 
 
3, 8-16.] THE WILL. 71 
 
 For in deliberation we seem to inquire and to 
 analyze in the way described, just as we analyze a 
 geometrical figure in order to learn how to construct 
 
 12 it * (and though inquiry is not always deliberation 
 mathematical inquiry, for instance, is not delibera- 
 tion is always inquiry) ; r that which is last in the 
 analysis coming first in the order of construction. 
 
 13 If we come upon something impossible, we give up 
 the plan ; e.g. if it needs money, and money cannot 
 be got : but if it appear possible, we set to work. By 
 possible I mean something that can be done by us ; 
 and what carf bo done by our friends can in a manner 
 be done by us ; for it is we who set our friends to 
 work. 
 
 14 Sometimes we have to find out instruments, some- 
 times how to use them; and so on with the rest: some- 
 times we have to find out what agency will produce 
 the desired effect, sometimes how or through whom 
 this agency is to be set at work. 
 
 15 Now, it appears that a man, as we have already 
 said, originates his acts ; that he deliberates about that t 
 which he can do himself, and that what he does is done i 
 
 16 for the sake of something else.f From this it follows \ 
 
 it done," then analyze the imagined figure in order to see the con- 
 ditions which it implies and which imply it, and continue the chain 
 till we come to some thing (drawing of some lines) which we already 
 know how to do. 
 
 t Cf. III. 2, 9, and 5, 1, and X. 7, 5. There is no real incon- 
 sistency between this and the doctrine that the end of life is 
 life, that the good act is to be chosen for its own sake (II. 4, 3), 
 because it is noble (III. 7, 13) : for the end is not outside the 
 means j happiness or the perfect life is the complete system of 
 these acts, and the real nature of each act is determined by its rela- 
 
72 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [Bs. III. 
 
 that he does not deliberate about the end, but about 
 the means to the end. 
 
 Again, he does not deliberate about particular facts, 
 e.g. whether this be a loaf, or whether it be properly 
 baked: these are matters of immediate perception. 
 And if he goes on deliberating for ever he will never 
 come to a conclusion. 
 
 The object of deliberation and the object of choice 17 
 or purpose are the same, except that the latter is 
 already fixed and determined; when we say, "this 
 is chosen " or " purposed," we mean that it has been 
 selected after deliberation. For we always stop in our 
 inquiry how to do a thing when we have traced back 
 the chain of causes to ourselves, and to the com- 
 manding part of ourselves ; for this is the part that 
 chooses. 
 
 This may be illustrated by the ancient constitu- is 
 tions which Homer describes ; for there the kings 
 announce to the people what they have chosen. 
 
 Since, then, a thing is said to be chosen or pur- 19 
 posed when, being in our power, it is desired after 
 deliberation, choice or purpose may be defined as 
 deliberate desire for something in our power; for 
 we first deliberate, and then, having made our 
 decision thereupon, we desire in accordance with 
 deliberation. 
 
 Let this stand, then, for an account in outline of 20 
 choice or purpose, and of what it deals with, viz. 
 means to ends. 
 wish for 4. Wish, we have already said, is for the end ; but i 
 
 tion to this system j to choose it as a means to this end is to choose 
 it for itself. 
 
3, 17-4, 5.] THE WLL. 73 
 
 whereas some hold that the object of wish is the good 
 others hold that it is whai-seems good. 
 
 Those who maintain that the object of wish * is 
 the good have to admit that what those wish for who 
 choose wrongly is not object of wish (for if so it 
 would be good ; but it may so happen that it was 
 bad); on the other hand, those who maintain that 
 the object of wish is what seems good have to admit 
 that there is nothing which is naturally object of 
 wish, but that each wishes for what seems good to 
 him different and even contrary things seeming 
 good to different people. 
 
 As neither of these alternatives quite satisfies us, 
 perhaps we had better say that the gqod is the real 
 object jrfjvvisli (without any qualifying epithet), but- 
 that what seems good is object of wish to each 
 man. The good man, then, wishes for the real object! 
 of wish ; but what the bad man wishes for may be jj 
 anything whatever; just as, with regard to the body, 
 those who are in good condition find those things 
 healthy that are really healthy, while those who are 
 diseased find other things healthy (and it is just the 
 same with things bitter, sweet, hot, heavy, etc.)j for 
 the good or ideal man judges each case correctly, and 
 in each case what is true seems true to him. 
 
 For, corresponding to each of our trained faculties, 
 there is a special form of the noble and the pleasant, 
 
 * &ov\-r}r6v. This word hovers between two senses, (1) wished 
 for, (2) to be wished for, just as atperSy hovers between (1) desired, 
 (2) desirable. The difficulty, as here put, turns entirely upon the 
 equivocation ; but at bottom lies the fundamental question, whether 
 there be a common human nature, such that we can say, " This kind 
 of life is man's real life." 
 
74 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 and perhaps there is nothing so distinctive of the 
 
 (good or ideal man as the power he has of discerning 
 these special forms in each case, being himself, as it 
 were, their standard and measure. 
 
 What misleads people seems to be in most cases 
 pleasure ; it seems to be a good thing, even when it is 
 not. So they choose what is pleasant as good, and 
 shun pain as evil. 
 virtue and * 5. We have seen that, while we wish for the end, 1 
 
 vice are alike ,., , , .-. 
 
 voluntary: we deliberate upon and choose the means thereto. 
 
 our acts are . , . ,, 
 
 our own; for Actions that are concerned with means, then, will 
 be guided by choice, and so will be voluntary. 
 
 J 
 
 
 them: if this 
 
 be our But the acts in which the virtues are manifested 
 
 character^ we 
 
 are concerned with means.* 
 
 Therefore virtue depends upon ourselves: and 
 v ^ ce likewise. For where it lies with us to do, it! 
 I* 68 w ith us not to do. Where we can say no, we> 
 can Sa 7 J es - If then the doing a deed, which is 
 
 900* depends noble) j^g with ug ^ the not doing ^ ^^^ i s dis- 
 
 ?i a )S ;/or graceful, lies with us; and if the not doing, which is 
 noble, lies with us, the doing, which is disgraceful, 
 a ls li es with us. But if the doing and likewise the 3 
 no ^ doing of noble or base deeds lies with us, and if 
 this is, as we found, identical with being good or bad, 
 then it follows that it lies with us to be worthy or 
 worthless men. 
 
 And so the saying 4 
 
 " None would be wicked, none would not be blessed," 
 
 * Each virtuous act is desired and chosen as a means to realizing 
 a particular virtue, and this again is desired as a part or con- 
 stituent of, and so as a means to, that perfect self-realization which 
 is happiness : cf. 3, 15. 
 
5, 1-8.] 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 seems partly wfise and partly rflf^vno one 
 is blessed agamit^iiis will ; but vice is voluni 
 
 If we deny 1 this, we must dispute the statements* 
 made just now, and must contend that man is not the 
 originator and the parent of his actions, as of his 
 children. 
 
 But if those statements commend themselves to 
 us, and if we are unable to trace our acts to any 
 other sources than those that depend upon ourselves, 
 then that whose source is within us must itself 
 depend upon us and be voluntary. 
 
 This seems to be attested, moreover, by each one of 
 us in private life, and also by the legislators; for they 
 correct and punish those that do evil (except when it 
 is done under compulsion, or through ignorance for 
 L ^ which the agent is not responsible), and honour those 
 that do noble deeds, evidently intending to encourage 
 the one sort and discourage the other. But no one 
 encourages us to do that which does not depend on 
 ourselves, ^nd which is not voluntary : it would be 
 useless to be persuaded not to feel heat or pain or 
 hunger and so on, as we should feel them all the same- 
 
 I say " ignorance for which the agent is not re- 
 sponsible," for the ignorance itself is punished by the 
 law, if the agent appear to be responsible for his 
 gnorance, e.g. for an offence committed in a fit of 
 drunkenness the penalty is doubled: for the origin 
 of the offence lies in the man himself; he might have 
 avoided the intoxication, which was the cause of his 
 ignorance. Again, ignorance of any of the ordinances 
 of the law, which a man ought to know and easily 
 can know, does not avert punishment. And so in 
 
76 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 other cases, where ignorance seems to be the result of 9 
 negligence, the offender is punished, since it lay with 
 him to remove this ignorance; for he might have 
 taken the requisite trouble. 
 
 It may be objected that it was the man's character 10 
 not to take the trouble. 
 
 We reply that men are themselves responsible for 
 acquiring such a character by a dissolute life, and for 
 being unjust or profligate in consequence of repeated 
 acts of wrong, or of spending their time in drinking 
 and so on. For it is repeated acts of a particular 
 kind that give a man a particular character. / 
 
 This is shown by the way in which men train 11 
 themselves for any kind of contest or performance: 
 they practise continually. 
 
 Not to know, then, that repeated acts of this or 12 
 that kind produce a corresponding character or habit, 
 shows an utter want of sense. 
 
 Moreover, it is absurd to say that he who acts 13 
 unjustly does not wish to be unjust, or that he who 
 behaves profligately does not wish to be profligate. 
 
 If then a man knowingly does acts which must 14 
 make him unjust, he will be voluntarily unjust; but 
 it does not follow that, if he wishes it, he can cease to 
 be unjust and be just, any more than he who is sick 
 can, if he wishes it, be whole. And it may be that 
 he is voluntarily sick, through living incontinently 
 and disobeying the doctor. At one time, then, he had 
 the option not to be sick, but he no longer has it now 
 that he has thrown away his health. When you 
 have discharged a stone it is no longer in your power 
 to call it back; but nevertheless the throwing and 
 
5, 9-17.] THE WILL. 77 
 
 casting away of that stone rests with you ; for the 
 beginning of its flight depended upon you.* 
 
 Just so the unjust or the profligate man at the 
 beginning was free not to acquire this character, and 
 therefore he is voluntarily unjust or profligate; but 
 now that he has acquired it, he is no longer free to put 
 it off. 
 
 15 But it is not only our mental or moral vices that 
 are voluntary ; bodily vices also are sometimes volun- 
 tary, and then are censured. We do not censure 
 natural ugliness, but we do censure that which is due 
 to negligence and want of exercise. And so with 
 weakness, and infirmity : we should never reproach a 
 man who was born blind, or had lost 'his sight in an 
 illness or by a blow we should rather pity him ; but 
 we should all censure a man who had blinded himself 
 [by excessive drinking or any other kind of profligacy. 
 
 16 V We see, then, that of the vices of the body it is 
 tnose that depend on ourselves that are censured, 
 while fcose that do not depend on ourselves are not 
 censured. And if this be so, then in other fields also 
 those vices that are blamed must depend upon our- 
 selves. 
 
 17 Some people may perhaps object to this. 
 
 "All men," they may say, "desire that which 
 appears good to them, but cannot control this appear- 
 ance ; a man's character, whatever it be, decides what 
 shall appear to him to be the end." 
 
 * My act is mine, and does not cease to be mine because I would 
 undo it if I could ; and so, further, since we made the habits whose 
 bonds we cannot now unloose, we are responsible, not merely for the 
 acts which made them, but also for the acts which they now prr. 
 duce " in spite of us : " what constrains us is ourselves. 
 
78 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. III. 
 
 If, I answer, each man be in some way responsible 
 for his habits or character, then in some way he must 
 be responsible for this appearance also. 
 
 But if this be not the case, then a man is not 
 responsible for, or is not the cause of, his own evil 
 doing, but it is through ignorance of the end that he 
 does evil, fancying that thereby he will secure the 
 greatest good : and the striving towards the true 
 end does not depend on our own choice, but a man 
 must be born with a gift of sight, so to speak, if he is 
 to discriminate rightly and to choose what is really i 
 good : and he is truly well-born who is by nature \ 
 richly endowed with this gift ; for, as it is the greatest I 
 and the fairest gift, which we cannot acquire or 
 learn from another, but must keep all our lives just 
 as nature gave it to us, to be well and nobly born in 
 this respect is to be well-born in the truest and com- 
 pletest sense. 
 
 Now, even supposing this to be true, how will is 
 virtue be any more voluntary than vice ? 
 
 For whether it be nature or anything else that 
 determines what shall appear to be the end, it is de- 
 termined in the same way for both alike, for the good 
 man as for the bad, and both alike refer aU their 
 acts of whatever kind to it. 
 
 And so whether we hold that it is not merely 19 
 nature that decides what appears to each to be the 
 end (whatever that be), but that the man himself 
 contributes something ; or whether we hold that the 
 end is fixed by nature, but that virtue is voluntary, 
 inasmuch as the good man voluntarily takes the steps 
 to that end in either case vice will be just as volun- 
 
5, 18-22.] THE WILL. 79 
 
 taiy as virtue ; for self is active in the bad man just 
 as much as in the good man, in choosing the particular 
 acts at least, if not in determining the end. 
 
 If then, as is generally allowed, the virtues are 
 voluntary (for we do, in fact, in some way help to < 
 make our character, and, by being of a certain cha- 
 racter, give a certain complexion to our idea of the 
 end), the vices also must be voluntary; for all this 
 applies equally to them. 
 
 We have thus described in outline the nature of the 
 virtues in general, viz. that they are forms of moder- 
 ation or modes of observing the mean, and that they 
 are habits or trained faculties ; and we have shown 
 what produces them, and how they themselves issue 
 in the performance of the same acts which produce 
 them, and that they depend on ourselves and are 
 voluntary, and that they follow the guidance of right 
 reason. 
 
 But our particular acts are not voluntary in the 
 same sense as our habits. 
 
 We are masters of our acts from beginning to end, 
 when we know the particular circumstances ; but we 
 are masters of the beginnings only of our habits or 
 characters, while their growth by gradual steps is 
 imperceptible, like the growth of disease. Inasmuch, 
 however, as it lay with us to employ or not to em- 
 ploy our faculties in this way, the resulting characters 
 are on that account voluntary. 
 
 
vices. 
 
 80 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BE. III. 
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER 6. END OF BOOK V. THE SEVERAL 
 MORAL VIRTUES AND VICES. 
 
 of courage 6. Now let us take up each of the virtues again 
 opposite in turn, and say what it is, and what its subject is, 
 and how it deals with it ; and in doing this, we shall 
 at the same time see how many they are. 
 
 First of all, let us take courage. 
 
 We have already said that it is moderation or 
 observance of the mean with respect to feelings of 
 fear and confidence. 
 
 Now, fear "evidently is excited by fearful things, 
 and these are, roughly speaking, evil things ; and 
 so fear is sometimes defined as " expectation of 
 evil." 
 
 Fear, then, is excited by evil of any kind, e.g. by 
 disgrace, poverty, disease, friendlessness, death ; but 
 it does not appear that every kind gives scope for 
 courage. There are things which we actually ought 
 to fear, which it is noble to fear and base not to fear, 
 e.g. disgrace. He who fears disgrace is an honourable 
 man, with a due sense of shame, while he who fears it 
 not is shameless (though some people stretch the word 
 courageous so far as to apply it to him ; for he has a 
 certain resemblance to the courageous man, courage 
 also being a kind of fearlessness). Poverty, per- 
 haps, we ought not to fear, nor disease, nor generally 
 those things that are not the result of vice, and do 
 not depend upon ourselves. But still to be fearless 
 in regard to these things is not strictly courage; 
 
6, 1-11.] COURAGE. 81 
 
 though here also the term is sometimes applied in 
 virtue of a certain resemblance. There are people, 
 for instance, who, though cowardly in the presence 
 of the dangers of war, are yet liberal and bold in the 
 spending of money. 
 
 On the other hand, a man is not to be called 
 cowardly for fearing outrage to his children or his 
 wife, or for dreading envy and things of that kind, 
 nor courageous for being unmoved by the prospect 
 of a whipping. 
 
 In what kind of terrors, then, does the courageous 
 man display his quality ? Surely in the greatest .; 
 for no one is more able to endure what is terrible. 
 But of all things the most terrible is death ; for death 
 is our limit, and when a man is once dead it seems 
 that there is no longer either good or evil for him. 
 
 It would seem, however, that even death does not 
 on all occasions give scope for courage, e.g. death by 
 water or by disease. 
 
 On what occasions then ? Surely on the noblest 
 occasions : and those are the occasions which occur in 
 war ; for they involve the greatest and the noblest 
 danger. 
 
 This is confirmed by the honours which courage 
 receives in free states and at the hands of princes. 
 
 The term courageous, then, in the strict sense, will 
 be applied to him who fearlessly faces an honourable 
 death and all sudden emergencies which involve 
 death ; and such emergencies mostly occur in war. 
 
 Of course the courageous man is fearless in the 
 presence of illness also, and at sea, but in a different 
 way from the sailors ; for the sailors, because of their 
 
 G 
 
82 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 experience, are full of hope when the landsmen are 
 already despairing of their lives and filled with aver- 
 sion at the thought of such a death. 
 
 Moreover, the circumstances which especially cnll 12 
 out courage are those in which prowess may be dis- 
 played, or in which death is noble; but in these 
 forms of death there is neither nobility nor room for 
 prowess. 
 
 7, Fear is not excited in all men by the same 1 
 things, but yet we commonly speak of fearful things 
 that surpass man's power to face. Such things, then, 
 inspire fear in every rational man. But the fearful 
 things that a man may face differ in importance and 
 in being more or less fearful (and so with the things 
 that inspire confidence). Now, the courageous man 2 
 always keeps his presence of mind (so far as a man 
 can). So though he will fear these fearful things, he 
 will endure them as he ought and as reason bids him, 
 * for the sake of that which is noble ; * for this is the 
 end or aim of virtue. 
 
 But it is possible to fear these things too much or 3 
 too little, and again to take as fearful what is not 
 -eally so. And thus men err sometimes by fearing 4 
 the wrong things, sometimes by fearing in the wrong 
 manner or at the wrong time, and so on. 
 
 And all this applies equally to things that inspire 
 confidence. 
 
 He, then, that endures and fears what he ought 5 
 from the right motive, and in the right manner, and 
 
 * rov Ka\ov eveica, the highest expression that Aristotle has for 
 the moral motive, = /coAoC eVefco ( 6) and fat /ctt\Ji/( 13), " as & means 
 to or as a constituent part of the noble life." 
 
6, 12-7, 9.] COURAGE. 83 
 
 at the right time, and similarly feels confidence, is 
 courageous. 
 
 For the courageous man regulates both his feeling 
 and his action according to the merits of each case 
 and as reason bids him. 
 
 6 But the end or motive of every manifestation of 
 a habit or exercise of a trained faculty is the end or 
 motive of the habit or trained faculty itself. 
 
 Now, to the courageous man courage is essentially 
 a fair or noble thing. 
 
 Therefore the end or motive of his courage is also 
 noble ; for everything takes its character from its end. 
 
 It is from a noble motive, therefore, that the 
 courageous man endures and acts courageously in each 
 particular case.* 
 
 7 Of the characters that run to excess, he that 
 exceeds in fearlessness has no name (and this is often 
 the case, as we have said before) ; but a man would 
 be either a maniac or quite insensible to pain who 
 should fear nothing, riot even earthquakes and 
 breakers, as thoy say is the case with the Celts. 
 
 He that is over-confident in the presence of 
 
 8 fearful things is called foolhardy. But the foolhardy 
 man is generally thought to be really a braggart, and 
 to pretend a courage which he has not. He wishes 
 therefore to seem what the courageous man really 
 is in the presence of danger ; so he imitates him 
 
 9 where he can. And so your foolhardy man is gene- 
 rally a coward at bottom : he blusters so long as he 
 
 * The courageous man desires the courageous act for the same 
 reason for which he desires the virtue itself, viz. simply because it is 
 noble : see note on 2. 
 
84 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 can do so safely,* but turns tail when real danger 
 comes. 
 
 He who is over-fearful is a coward ; for he fears 10 
 what he ought not, and as he ought not, etc. 
 
 He is also deficient in confidence ; but his 
 character rather displays itself in excess of fear in the 
 presence of pain. 
 
 The coward is also despondent, for he is frightened 11 
 at everything. But it is the contrary with the 
 courageous man ; for confidence implies hopefulness. 
 
 Thus the coward and the foolhardy and the. 12 
 courageous man display their characters in the same 
 circumstances, behaving differently under them : for 
 while the former exceed or fall short, the latter 
 behaves moderately and as he ought ; and while the 
 foolhardy are precipitate and eager before danger 
 comes, but fall away in its presence, the courageous 
 are keen in action, but quiet enough beforehand. 
 
 Courage then, as we have said, is observance of h 
 the mean with regard to things that excite confidence II 
 or fear, under the circumstances which we have ' 
 specified, and chooses its course and sticks to its post 13 
 because it is noble to do so, or because it is disgrace- 
 ful not to do so. 
 
 But to seek death as a refuge from poverty, or love, 
 or any painful thing, is not the act of a brave man, but 
 of a coward. For it is effeminacy thus to fly from 
 vexation ; and in such a case death is accepted not 
 because it is noble, but simply as an escape from 
 evil. 
 
 * lv TOVTOIJ, i.e. 4v ols Svi/arat, so long as he can imitate the 
 courageous man without being courageous. 
 
7, 10-8, 4.] COUKAGE. 85 
 
 8. Courage proper, then, is something of this sort, of 
 
 improperly 
 
 But besides this there are five other kinds oiso 
 courage so called. 
 
 First, "political courage," which most resembles V 
 true courage. 
 
 Citizens seem often to face dangers because of 
 legal pains and penalties on the one hand, and 
 honours on the other. And on this account the 
 people seem to be most courageous in those states 
 where cowards are disgraced and brave men honoured. 
 
 This, too, is the kind of courage which inspires 
 Homer's characters, e.g. Diomede and Hector. 
 
 " Polydamas will then reproach me first," * 
 
 says Hector ; and so Diomede : 
 
 " Hector one day will speak among his folk 
 And say, ' The son of Tydeus at my hand ' " f 
 
 This courage is most like that which we described 
 above, because its impulse is a virtuous one, viz- 
 a sense of honour (mSwe), and desire for a noble thing 
 (glory), and aversion to reproach, which is dis- 
 graceful. 
 
 We might, perhaps, put in the same class men who 
 are forced to fight by their officers ; but they are in- 
 ferior, inasmuch as what impels them is not a sense 
 of honour, but fear, and what they shun is not disgrace, 
 but pain. For those in authority compel them in 
 Hector's fashion 
 
 " Whoso is seen to skulk and shirk the fight 
 Shall nowise save his carcase from the dogs." J 
 
 * II., xxii. 200. f Ibid., viii. 148, 149. 
 
 J Ibid., xv. 348, ii. 391. 
 
86 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [I3K. III. 
 
 And the same thing is done by commanders who 
 order their men to stand, and flog them if they run, 
 or draw them up with a ditch in their rear, and so 
 on : all alike, I mean, employ compulsion. 
 
 But a man ought to be courageous, not under 
 compulsion, but because it is noble to be so. 
 
 Secondly, experience in this or that matter is 
 sometimes thought to be a sort of courage ; and this 
 indeed is the ground of the Socratic notion that 
 courage is knowledge. 
 
 This sort of courage is exhibited by various 
 persons in various matters, but notably by regular 
 troops in military affairs ; for it seems that in war 
 there are many occasions of groundless alarm, and 
 with these the regulars are better acquainted ; so 
 they appear to be courageous, simply because the 
 other troops do not understand the real state of the 
 case. 
 
 Again, the regular troops by reason of their 7 
 experience are more efficient both in attack and 
 defence; for they are skilled in the use of their 
 weapons, and are also furnished with the best kind 
 of arms for both purposes. So they fight with the 8 
 advantage of armed over unarmed men, or of trained 
 over untrained men ; for in athletic contests also it 
 is not the bravest men that can fight best, but those 
 who are strongest and have their bodies in the best 
 order. 
 
 But these regular troops turn cowards whenever 9 
 the danger rises to a certain height and they find 
 themselves inferior in numbers and equipment ; then 
 they are the first to fly, while the citizen-troops stand 
 
8, 5-11.] COUKAGE. 87 
 
 and are cut to pieces, as happened at the temple of 
 Hermes.* For the citizens deem it base to fly, and 
 hold death preferable to saving their lives on these 
 terms; but the regulars originally met the danger 
 only because they fancied they were stronger, and 
 run away when they learn the truth, fearing death 
 more than disgrace. But that is not what we mean 
 by courageous. 
 
 10 Thirdly, people sometimes include rage within the! \ 
 meaning of the term courage. 
 
 i Those who in sheer rage turn like wild beasts 
 on those who have wounded them are taken for 
 courageous, because the courageous man also is full 
 of rage ; for rage is above all things eager to rush on 
 danger ; so we find in Homer, " Put might into his 
 rage," and "roused his wrath and rage," and "fierce 
 wrath breathed through his nostrils," and " his blood 
 boiled." For all these expressions seem to signify 
 the awakening and the bursting out of rage. 
 
 11 The truly courageous man, then, is moved to act 
 by what is noble, rage helping him : but beasts are 
 moved by pain, i.e. by blows or by fear; for in a 
 wood or a marsh they do not attack man. And so 
 beasts are not courageous, since it is pain and rage 
 that drives them to rush on danger, without foresee- 
 ing any of the terrible consequences. If this be 
 courage, -then asses must be called courageous when 
 they are hungry; for though you beat them they 
 will not leave off eating. Adulterers also are moved 
 to do many bold deeds by their lust. 
 
 * Outside Coronea, when the town was betrayed, in the Sacred 
 War. 
 
88 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 Being driven to face danger by pain or rage, then, 12 
 is not courage proper. However, this kind of courage, 
 whose impulse is rage, seems to be the most natural, 
 and, when deliberate purpose and the right motive 
 are added to it, to become real courage. 
 
 Again, anger is a painful state, the act of revenge 
 is pleasant ; but those who fight from these motives 
 [i.e. to avoid the pain or gain the pleasure] may fight 
 well, but are not courageous: for they do not act 
 because it is noble to act so, or as reason bids, but are 
 driven by their passions; though they bear some 
 resemblance to the courageous man. 
 
 Fourthly, the sanguine man is not properly called 13 
 courageous : he is confident in danger because he has / 
 often won and has defeated many adversaries. The j 
 two resemble one another, since both are confident ; I 
 but whereas the courageous man is confident for the \ 
 reasons specified above, the sanguine man is confident 
 because he thinks he is superior and will win without 
 receiving a scratch. (People behave in the same sort 14 
 of way when they get drunk ; for then they become 
 sanguine.) But when he finds that this is not the 
 case, he runs away ; while it is the character of the 
 courageous man, as we saw, to face that which is 
 terrible to a man even when he sees the danger, 
 because it is noble to do so and base not to do so. 
 
 And so (it is thought) it needs greater courage to 15 
 be fearless and cool in sudden danger than in danger 
 that has been foreseen; for behaviour in the former 
 case is more directly the outcome of formed character, 
 or, in other words, is less dependent on preparation. 
 When we see what is coming we may choose to meet 
 
d, 12-9, 2.] COURAGE. 89 
 
 it, as the result of calculation and reasoning, but when 
 it comes upon us suddenly we must choose according 
 to our character. 
 
 Fifthly, those who are unaware of their danger 
 sometimes appear to be courageous, and in fact are 
 not very far removed from the sanguine persons we 
 last spoke of, only they are inferior in that they have 
 not necessarily any opinion of themselves, which the 
 sanguine must have. And so while the latter hold 
 their ground for some time, the former, whose courage 
 was due to a false belief, run away the moment they 
 perceive or suspect that the case is different ; as the 
 Argives did when they engaged the Spartans under 
 the idea that they were Sicyonians.* 
 
 Thus we have described the character of the 
 courageous man, and of those who are taken for 
 
 9. Courage is concerned, as we said, with feelings HOW courag* 
 
 ' & involves both 
 
 But there is another point to notice. 
 9. Courage is concerned, as we said 
 
 ' 
 
 both of confidence and of fear, yet it is not equally 
 concerned with both, but more with occasions of fear : 
 it is the man who is cool and behaves as he ought on 
 such occasions that is called courageous, rather than 
 he who behaves thus on occasions that inspire con- 
 fidence. 
 
 And so, as we said, men are called courageous for 
 enduring painful things. 
 
 Courage, therefore, brings pain, and is justly^ 
 praised ; for it is harder to endure what is painful 
 than to abstain from what is pleasant. 
 
 I do not, of course, mean to say that the end of 
 
 * The incident is narrated by Xenophon, Hell., iv. 10. 
 
90 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [Es.. 111. 
 
 courage is not pleasant, but that it seems to be hidden 
 from view by the attendant circumstances, as is the 
 case in gymnastic contests also. Boxers, for instance, 
 have a pleasant end in view, that fcr which they 
 strive, the crown and the honours; but the blows 
 they receive are grievous to flesh and blood, and 
 painful, and so are all the labours they undergo ; and 
 as the latter are many, while the end is small, the 
 pleasantness of the end is hardly apparent. 
 
 If, then, the case of courage is analogous, death 3 
 and wounds will be painful to the courageous man 
 and against his will, but he endures them because it 
 is noble to do so or base not to do so. 
 
 And the more he is endowed with every virtue, 4 
 and the happier he is, the more grievous will death 
 be to him ; for life is more worth living to a man of 
 his sort than to any one else, and he deprives himself 
 knowingly of the very best things ; and it is painful 
 to do that. But he is no less courageous because he 5 
 feels this pain; nay, we may say he is even more 
 courageous, because in spite of it he chooses noble 
 conduct in battle in preference to those good things. 
 
 Thus we see that the rule that the exercise of a 
 virtue is pleasant * does not apply to all the virtues, 
 except in so far as the end is attained. 
 
 Still there is, perhaps, no reason why men of this 6 
 character should not be less efficient as soldiers than 
 those who are not so courageous, but have nothing 
 good to lose ; for such men are reckless of risk, and 
 will sell their lives for a small price. 
 
 Here let us close our account of courage ; it will 7 
 * Cf. I. 8, 10, f. 
 
9, 3-10, 4.] TEMPERANCE. 91 
 
 not be hard to gather an outline of its nature from 
 what we have said. 
 
 1 10. After courage, let us speak of temperance, or temper. 
 for these two seem to be the virtues of the irrational ance ' 
 parts of our nature. 
 
 We have already said that temperance is modera- 
 tion or observance of the mean with regard to 
 pleasures (for it is not concerned with pains so much, 
 nor in the same manner) ; profligacy also manifests 
 itself in the same field. 
 
 2 Let us now determine what kind of pleasures 
 these are. 
 
 First, let us accept as established the distinction* 
 between the pleasures of the body and the pleasures! 
 of the soul, such as the pleasures of gratified ambition 
 or love of learning. 
 
 When he who loves honour or learning is 
 delighted by that which he loves, it is not his body 
 that is affected, but his mind. But men are not 
 called either temperate or profligate for their be- 
 
 3 haviour with regard to these pleasures ; nor for their 
 behaviour with regard to any other pleasures that 
 are not of the body. For instance, those who are 
 fond of gossip and of telling stories, and spend their 
 days in trifles, are called babblers, but not profligate ; 
 nor do we apply this term to those who are pained 
 beyond measure at the loss of money or friends. 
 
 4 Temperance, then, will be concerned with they 
 pleasures of the body, but not with all of these even : 
 for those who delight in the use of their eyesight, in 
 colours and forms and painting, are not called either 
 temperate or profligate and yet it would seem that 
 
92 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 it is possible to take delight in these things too as 
 one ought, and also more or less than one ought. 
 
 And so with the sense of hearing : a man is never 5 
 called profligate for taking an excessive delight in 
 music or in acting, nor temperate for taking a proper 
 delight in them. 
 
 Nor are these terms applied with respect to the 6 
 sense of smell, except accidentally. We do not say 
 that those who delight in the smell of fruit or roses 
 or incense are profligate, but rather those who delight 
 in the smell of unguents and savoury dishes ; for the 
 profligate delights in these smells because they re- 
 mind him of the things that he lusts after. 
 
 You may, indeed, see other people taking delight 7 
 in the smell of food when they are hungry ; but only 
 a profligate takes delight in such smells [constantly], 
 as he alone is [constantly] lusting after such things. 
 
 The lower animals, moreover, do not get pleasure 8 
 through these senses, except accidentally. It is not 
 the scent of a hare that delights a dog, but the eating 
 of it; only the announcement comes through his 
 sense of smell. The lion rejoices not in the lowing 
 of the ox, but in the devouring of him ; but as the 
 lowing announces that the ox is near, the lion appears 
 to delight in the sound itself. So also, it is not seeing 
 or discovering a stag or a wild goat that pleases him, 
 but the anticipation of a meal. 
 
 Temperance and profligacy, then, have to do witA f\ 
 those kinds of pleasure which are common to the( 
 lower animals, for which reason they seem to b^l 
 slavish and brutal; I mean the pleasures of touch [ 
 and taste. 
 
10, 5-11, 1.] TEMPERANCE. 93 
 
 Taste, however, seems to play but a small part 
 here, or perhaps no part at all. For it is the function 
 1 of taste to distinguish flavours, as is done by wine- 
 tasters and by those who season dishes ; but it is by 
 no means this discrimination of objects that gives 
 delight (to profligates, at any rate), but the actual 
 ^enjoyment of them, the medium of which is always 
 the sense of touch, alike in the pleasures of eating, 
 of drinking, and of sexual intercourse. 
 
 And hence a certain gourmand wished that his 
 throat were longer than a crane's, thereby implying 
 that his pleasure was derived from the sense of touch. 
 
 That sense, then, with which profligacy is concerned 
 is of all senses the commonest or most widespread; 
 and so profligacy would seem to be deservedly of all 
 vices the most censured, inasmuch as it attaches not 
 to our human, but to our animal nature. 
 
 To set one's delight in things of this kind, then, 
 and to love them more than all things, is brutish. 
 
 And further, the more manly sort even of the 
 pleasures of touch are discarded by the profligate, 
 such as the pleasures which the gymnast finds in 
 rubbing and the warm bath ; for the profligate does 
 not cultivate the sense of touch over his whole body, 
 but in certain parts only. 
 
 11. Now, of our desires or appetites some appear 
 to be common to the race, others to be individual and 
 acquired. 
 
 Thus the desire of food is natural [or common to 
 the race] ; every man when he is in want desires meat 
 or drink, or sometimes both, and sexual intercourse, as 
 Homer says, when he is young and vigorous. 
 
9i NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 But not all men desire to satisfy their wants in 
 this or that particular way, nor do all desire the same 
 things ; and therefore such desire appears to be pecu- 
 liar to ourselves, or individual. 
 
 Of course it is also partly natural : different people 
 are pleased by different things, and yet there are 
 some things which all men like better than others. 
 
 Firstly, then, in the matter of our natural or 
 common desires but few err, and that only on one 
 side, viz. on the side of excess ; e.g. to eat or drink of 
 whatever is set before you till you can hold no more 
 is to exceed what is natural in point of quantity, 
 for natural desire or appetite is for the filling of 
 our want simply. And so such people are called 
 " belly-mad," implying that they fill their bellies too 
 full. 
 
 It is only utterly slavish natures that acquire this 
 vice. 
 
 Secondly, with regard to those pleasures that are 
 individual [i.e. which attend the gratification of our 
 individual desires] many people err in various ways. 
 
 People are called fond of this or that because they 
 delight either in wrong things, or in undue measure, 
 or as the many do, or in a wrong fashion. Now, in 
 all these ways the profligates exceed. They delight in 
 some things in which they ought not to delight (since 
 they are hateful things), and if it be right to delight 
 in any of these things they delight in them more than 
 is right, and as the many do. 
 
 It is plain, then, that excess in these pleasures is 
 profligacy, and is a thing to be blamed. 
 
 But in respect of the corresponding pains the case 
 
11, 2-8.] TEMPERANCE. 95 
 
 is not the same here as it was with regard to courage : 
 a man is not called temperate for bearing them, and 
 profligate for not bearing them; but the profligate 
 man is called profligate for being more pained than he 
 ought at not getting certain pleasant things (his pain 
 being caused by his pleasure *), and the temperate 
 man is called temperate because the absence of these 
 pleasant things or the abstinence from them is not 
 painful to him. 
 
 The profligate, then, desires all pleasant things or 
 those that are most intensely pleasant, and is led by 
 his desire so as to choose these in preference to all other 
 things. And so he is constantly pained by failing to 
 get them and by lusting after them : for all appetite 
 involves pain; but it seems a strange thing to be 
 pained for the sake of pleasure. 
 
 People who fall short in the matter of pleasure, 
 and take less delight than they ought in these things, 
 are hardly found at all ; for this sort of insensibility 
 is scarcely in human nature. And indeed even the 
 lower animals discriminate kinds of food, and delight 
 in some and not in others; and a being to whom 
 nothing was pleasant, and who found no difference 
 between one thing and another, would be very far 
 removed from being a man. We have no name for 
 such a being, because he does not exist. 
 
 But the temperate man observes the mean in these 
 things. He takes no pleasure in those things that 
 the profligate most delights in (but rather disdains 
 
 * Cf. VII. 14, 2: "the opposite of this excessive pleasure [i.e. 
 going without a wrong pleasure] is not pain, except to the man who 
 bets his heart on this excessive pleasure." 
 
96 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 them), nor generally in the wrong things, nor very 
 much in any of these things,* and when they are 
 absent he is not pained, nor does he desire them, or 
 desires them but moderately, not more than he ought, 
 nor at the wrong time, etc. -, but those things which, 
 being pleasant, at the same time conduce to health 
 and good condition, he will desire moderately and in 
 the right manner, and other pleasant things also, pro- 
 vided they are not injurious, or incompatible with 
 what is noble, or beyond his means ; for he who cares 
 for them then, cares for them more than is fitting, and 
 the temperate man is not apt to do that, but rather 
 to be guided by right reason. 
 
 !2. Profligacy seems to be more voluntary than i 
 cowardice. 
 
 For a man is impelled to the former by pleasure, 
 to the latter by pain ; but pleasure is a thing we choose, 
 while pain is a thing we avoid. Pain puts us beside 2 
 ourselves and upsets the nature of the sufferer, while 
 pleasure has no such effect, but leaves free play to the 
 will. 
 
 Profligacy is for these reasons more to be blamed 
 than cowardice, and for another reason too, viz. that 
 it is easier to train one's self to behave rightly on these 
 occasions [i.e. those in which profligacy is displayed]; 
 for such occasions are constantly occurring in our 
 lives, and the training involves no risk; but with 
 occasions of fear the contrary is the case. 
 
 Again, it would seem that the habit of mind or 3 
 character called cowardice is more voluntary than 
 the particular acts in which it is exhibited. It is not 
 
 * i,e. the pleasures of taste and touch. 
 
12, 1-7.] TEMPERANCE. 97 
 
 painful to be a coward, but the occasions which exhibit 
 cowardice put men beside themselves through fear of 
 pain, so that they throw away their arms and alto- 
 gether disgrace themselves ; and hence these particular 
 acts are even thought to be compulsory. 
 
 In the case of the profligate, on the contrary, the 
 particular acts are voluntary (for they are done with 
 appetite and desire), but the character itself less so ; 
 for no one desires to be a profligate. 
 
 The term " profligacy " we apply also to childish 
 faults,* for they have some sort of resemblance. It 
 makes no difference for our present purpose which of 
 the two is named after the other, but it is plain that 
 the later is named after the earlier. 
 
 And the metaphor, I think, is not a bad one: wj^ 
 needs " chastening " or " correction " f is that which 
 inclines to base things and which has great powers of 
 expansion. Now, these characteristics are nowhere 
 so strongly marked as in appetite and in childhood ; 
 children too [as well as the profligate] live according 
 to their appetites, and the desire for pleasant things is 
 7 most pronounced in them. If then this element be not 
 submissive and obedient to the governing principle, 
 it will make great head : for the desire for pleasant 
 things is insatiable, and in an irrational being is ready 
 to satisfy itself in any way, and the exercise of the 
 appetite increases the natural tendency : and* if the 
 desires are great and intense they will even thrust out 
 reason altogether : so it is needful that they be few 
 
 * Of course the English term is not so used, 
 t it6\a.<ns, chastening ; dtt<JA.acrr0s, unchastened, incorrigible, 
 profligate. 
 
 H 
 
93 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. III. 
 
 and moderate, and in no respect opposed to reason. 
 But when this part of our nature is in this state 8 
 we call it submissive and " chastened ;" for as a child 
 should live in subjection to his tutor, so should the 
 appetites be subject to reason. 
 
 And so the appetites of the temperate man should 9 
 be in harmony with his reason ; for the aim of both 
 is that which is noble : the temperate man desires 
 what he ought, and as he ought, and when he ought ; 
 and this again is what reason prescribes. 
 
 This, then, may be taken as an account of tem- 
 perance. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 THE SAME Continued. 
 
 1 1. LIBERALITY, of which we will next speak, 
 ^seems to be moderation in the matter of wealth. 
 
 What we commend in a liberal man is his behaviour, 
 not in war, nor in those circumstances in which tem- 
 perance is commended, nor yet in passing judgment, 
 but in the giving and taking of wealth, and especially 
 
 2 in the giving wealth meaning all those things whose 
 value can be measured in money. 
 
 3 But both prodigality and illiberality are at once 
 excess and defect in the matter of wealth. 
 
 Illiberality always means caring for wealth more 
 than is right; but prodigality sometimes stands for 
 a combination of vices. Thus incontinent people, 
 who squander their money in riotous living, are called 
 
 4 prodigals. And so prodigals are held to be very 
 worthless individuals, as they combine a number of 
 vices. 
 
 But we must remember that this is not the proper 
 
 5 use of the term ; for the term " prodigal " (a<raroe) is 
 intended to denote a man who has one vice, viz. that 
 of wasting his substance : for he is acrwroc,* or " pro- 
 digal," who is destroyed through his own fault, and 
 
 s, a priv. and 0ws, crdfciv. 
 
100 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 the wasting of one's substance is held to be a kind 
 of destruction of one's self, as one's life is dependent 
 upon it. This, then, we regard as the proper sense 
 of the term " prodigality." 
 
 Anything that has a use may be used well or ill. 
 
 Now, riches is abundance of useful things (rd 
 
 But each thing is best used by him who has the 
 virtue that is concerned with that thing. 
 
 Therefore he will use riches best who has the 
 virtue that is concerned with wealth * (TO. ^>r)/xara), 
 i.e. the liberal man. 
 
 Now, the ways of using wealth are spending and 7 
 giving, while taking and keeping are rather the ways 
 of acquiring wealth. And so it is more distinctive of 
 the liberal man to give to the right people than to 
 take from the right source and not to take from the 
 wrong source. For it is more distinctive of virtue to 
 do good to others than to have good done to you, 
 and to do what is noble than not to do what is base. 
 And here it is plain that doing good and noble 8 
 actions go with the giving, while receiving good and 
 not doing what is base goes with the taking. 
 
 Again, we are thankful to him who gives, not to 
 him who does not take; and so also we praise the 
 former rather than the latter. 
 
 Again, it is easier not to take than to give; for we 9 
 are more inclined to be too stingy with our own 
 goods than to take another's. 
 
 * The connection is plainer in the original, because ra 
 " wealth," is at once seen to be identical with TO. xp-fi<rifj.a, " useful 
 things, " and connected with xp*' la i " use." 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or 
 
 1, 6-l4y221BERALITY. 101 
 
 10 Again, it is those who give that are commonly 
 called liberal ; while those who abstain from taking 
 are not praised for their liberality especially, but 
 
 11 rather for their justice; and those who take are not 
 praised at all. 
 
 Again, of all virtuous characters the liberal man is 
 the most beloved, because he is useful ; but his use- 
 fulness lies in his giving. 
 
 12 But virtuous acts, we said, are noble, and are 
 done for the sake of that which is noble. The liberal 
 man, therefore, like the others, will give with a view 
 to, or for the sake of, that which is noble, and give 
 rightly ; i.e. he will give the right things to the right 
 persons at the right times in short, his giving will 
 have all the characteristics of right giving. 
 
 13 Moreover, his giving will be pleasant to him, or at^ 
 least painless; for virtuous acts are always pleasant 
 or painless certainly very far from being painful. 
 
 14 He who gives to the wrong persons, or gives from 
 some other motive than desire for that which is noble, ' 
 is not liberal, but must be called by some other name. 
 
 Nor is he liberal who gives with pain ; for that 
 shows that he would prefer * the money to the noble 
 action, which is not the feeling of the liberal man, 
 
 15 The liberal man, again, will not take from wrong 
 sources ; for such taking is inconsistent with the 
 character of a man who sets no store by wealth. 
 
 16 Nor will he be ready to beg a favour ; for he who 
 confers benefits on others is not usually in a hurry to 
 receive them. 
 
 * Were it not for some extraneous consideration, e.g. desire to 
 stand well with his neighbours. 
 
102 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 But from right sources he will take (e.g. from his 17 
 own property), not as if there were anything noble in 
 taking, but simply as a necessary condition of giving. 
 And so he will not neglect his property, since he 
 wishes by means of it to help others. But he will 
 refuse to give to any casual person, in order that he 
 may have wherewithal to give to the right persons, at 
 the right times, and where it is noble to give. 
 
 It is very characteristic of the liberal man * to 18 
 go even to excess in giving, so as to leave too little 
 for himself; for disregard of self is part of his 
 character. 
 
 In applying the term liberality we must take 19 
 account of a man's fortune ; for it is not the amount 
 of what is given that makes a gift liberal, but the 
 liberal habit or character of the doer; and this 
 character proportions the gift to the fortune of the 
 giver. And so it is quite possible that the giver of 
 the smaller sum may be the more liberal man, if his 
 means be smaller. 
 
 Those who have inherited a fortune seem to be 20 
 more liberal than those who have made one ; for they 
 have never known want ; and all men are particularly 
 fond of what themselves have made, as we see in 
 parents and poets. 
 
 It is not easy for a liberal man to be rich, as he is 
 not apt to take or to keep, but is apt to spend, and 
 cares for money not on its own account, but only for 
 the sake of giving it away. 
 
 * This is strictly a departure from the virtue ; but Aristotle 
 seems often to pass insensibly from the abstract ideal of a virtue to 
 its imperfect embodiment in a complex character. Cf. infra, cap. 3. 
 
1, 17-25.] LIBERALITY. 103 
 
 21 Hence the charge often brought against fortune, 
 that those who most deserve wealth are least blessed 
 with it. But this is natural enough ; for it is just as 
 impossible to have wealth without taking trouble 
 about it, as it is to have anything else. 
 
 22 Nevertheless the liberal man will not give to the 
 wrong people, nor at the wrong times ; for if he did, 
 he would no longer be displaying true liberality, 
 and, after spending thus, would not have enough to 
 
 23 spend on the right occasions. For, as we have already 
 said, he is liberal who spends in proportion to his 
 fortune, on proper objects, while he who exceeds this 
 is prodigal. And so princes * are not called prodigal, 
 because it does not seem easy for them to exceed the 
 measure of their possessions in gifts and expenses. 
 
 24 Liberality, then, being moderation in the giving 
 and taking of wealth, the liberal man will give and 
 spend the proper amount on the proper objects, alike 
 in small things and in great, and that with pleasure ; 
 and will also take the proper amount from the proper 
 sources. For since the virtue is moderation in both 
 giving and taking, the man who has the virtue will 
 do both rightly. Right taking is consistent with 
 right giving, but any other taking is contrary to it. 
 Those givings and takings, then, that are consistent 
 with one another are found in the same person, while 
 those that are contrary to one another manifestly 
 are not. 
 
 5 But if a liberal man happen to spend anything in 
 
 * No single English word can convey the associations of the 
 Greek rvpavvos, a monarch who has seized absolute power, not 
 necessarily one who abases it. 
 
104 NICOMAOHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 a manner contrary to what is right and noble, he will 
 be pained, but moderately and in due measure ; for 
 it is a characteristic of virtue to be pleased and pained 
 on the right occasions and in due measure. 
 
 The liberal man, again, is easy to deal with in 26 
 money matters; it is not hard to cheat him, as he 
 does not value wealth, and is more apt to be vexed 
 at having failed to spend where he ought, than to be 
 pained at having spent where he ought not the sort 27 
 of man that Simonides would not commend.*- 
 
 The prodigal, on the other hand, errs in these 28 
 points also ; he is not pleased on the right occasions 
 nor in the right way, nor pained : but this will be 
 clearer as we go on. 
 
 We have already said that both prodigality and 29 
 illiberality are at once excess and deficiency, in two 
 things, viz. giving and taking (expenditure being 
 included in giving). Prodigality exceeds in giving 
 and in not taking, but falls short in taking; illiber- 
 ality falls short in giving, but exceeds in taking in 
 small things, we must add. 
 
 Now, the two elements of prodigality are not 30 
 commonly united in the same person : f it is not 
 easy for a man who never takes to be always giving ; 
 for private persons soon exhaust their means of 
 giving, and it is to private persons that the name is 
 generally applied. J 
 
 A prodigal of this kind [i.e. in whom both the 31 
 
 * The saying referred to seems to be lost. 
 
 f i.e. in men of some age and fixed character ; they often coexist 
 iu very young men, he says, but cannot possibly coexist for long. 
 J As he has already said in effect, supra, 23. 
 
1, 26-35.] LIBERALITY. 105 
 
 elements are combined], we must observe, would seem 
 to be not a little better than an illiberal man. For 
 he is easily cured by advancing years and by lack of 
 means, and may come to the middle course. For he 
 has the essential points of the liberal character ; he 
 gives and abstains from taking, though he does neither 
 well nor as he ought. If then he can be trained to 
 this, or if in any other way this change in his nature 
 can be effected, he will be liberal ; for then he will 
 give to whom he ought, and will not take whence he 
 ought not. And so he is generally thought to be not 
 a bad character ; for to go too far in giving and in 
 not taking does not show a vicious or ignoble nature 
 so much as a foolish one. 
 
 32 A prodigal of this sort, then, seems to be much 
 better than an illiberal man, both for the reasons 
 already given, and also because the former does good 
 to many, but the latter to no one, not even to himself. 
 
 33 But most prodigals, as has been said, not only give 
 wrongly, but take from wrong sources, and are in this 
 
 34 respect illiberal. They become grasping because they 
 wish to spend, but cannot readily do so, as their 
 supplies soon fail. So they are compelled to draw 
 from other sources. At the same time, since they care 
 nothing for what is noble, they will take quite reck- 
 lessly from any source whatever; for they long to 
 give, but care not a whit how the money goes or 
 whence it comes. 
 
 35 And so their gifts are not liberal ; for they are not 
 noble, nor are they given with a view to that which 
 is noble, nor in the right manner. Sometimes they 
 enrich those who ought to be poor, and will givQ 
 
106 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. IV. 
 
 nothing to men of well-regulated character, while 
 they give a great deal to those who flatter them, or 
 furnish them with any other pleasure. And thus the 
 greater part of them are profligates ; for, being ready 
 to part with their money, they are apt to lavish it on 
 riotous living, and as they do not shape their lives 
 with a view to that which is noble, they easily fall 
 away into the pursuit of pleasure. 
 
 The prodigal, then, if he fail to find guidance, 36 
 comes to this, but if he get training he may be brought 
 to the moderate and right course. 
 
 But illiberality is incurable ; for old age and all 37 
 loss of power seems to make men illiberal. 
 
 It also runs in the blood more than prodigality ; 
 the generality of men are more apt to be fond of 
 money than of giving. 
 
 Again, it is far-reaching, and has many forms ; for 38 
 there seem to be many ways in which one can be 
 illiberal. 
 
 It consists of two parts deficiency in giving, and 
 excess of taking; but it is not always found in its 
 entirety; sometimes the parts are separated, and 
 one man exceeds in taking, while another falls short 
 in giving. Those, for instance, who are called by such 39 
 names as niggardly, stingy, miserly, all fall short 
 in giving, but do not covet other people's goods, or 
 wish to take them. 
 
 Some are impelled to this conduct by a kind of 
 honesty, or desire to avoid what is disgraceful I 
 mean that some of them seem, or at any rate profess, 
 to be saving, in order that they may never be com- 
 pelled to do anything disgraceful; e.g. the cheese- 
 
1, 36-43.] LIBERALITY. 107 
 
 parer * (and those like him), who is so named because 
 of the extreme lengths to which he carries his un- 
 willingness to give. 
 
 10 But others are moved to keep their hands from 
 their neighbours' goods only by fear, believing it to 
 be no easy thing to take the goods of others, without 
 having one's own goods taken in turn; so they are 
 content with neither taking nor giving. 
 
 Others, again, exceed in the matter of taking so far 
 as to make any gain they can in any way whatever, 
 e.g. those who ply debasing trades, brothel-keepers 
 and such like, and usurers who lend out small sums 
 at a high rate. For all these make money from im- 
 proper sources to an improper extent. 
 
 41 The common characteristic of these last seems to 
 be the pursuit of base gain ; for all of them endure 
 reproach for the sake of gain, and that a small gain. 
 
 42 For those who make improper gains in improper ways 
 on a large scale are not called illiberal, e.g. tyrants who 
 sack cities and pillage temples ; they are rather called 
 
 43 wicked, impious, unjust. The dice-sharper, however, 
 and the man who steals clothes at the bath, or the 
 common thief, are reckoned among the illiberal; for 
 they all make base gains ; i.e. both the thief and the 
 sharper ply their trade and endure reproach for gain, 
 and the thief for the sake of his booty endures the 
 greatest dangers, while the sharper makes gain out of 
 his friends, to whom he ought to give. Both then, 
 wishing to make gain in improper ways, are seekers 
 of base gain ; and all such ways of making money are 
 illiberal. 
 
 Lit. "cummin-splitter." 
 
108 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK IV. 
 
 Thus illiberality is rightly called the opposite of 44 
 liberality ; for it is a worse evil than prodigality, and 
 men are more apt to err in this way than in that 
 which we have described as prodigality. 
 
 Let this, then, be taken as our account of liberality, 4" 
 and of the vices that are opposed to it. 
 
 "~2, Our next task would seem to be an examina- l 
 tion of magnificence. For this also seems to be a 
 virtue that is concerned with wealth. 
 
 But it does not, like liberality, extend over the 
 whole field of money transactions, but only over those 
 that involve large expenditure; and in these it goes 
 beyond liberality in largeness. For, as its very name 
 (juEyaXoTrpETraa) suggests, it is suitable expenditure on 
 a large scale. But the largeness is relative : the 2 
 expenditure that is suitable for a man who is fitting 
 out a war-ship is not the same as that which is suit- 
 able for the chief of a sacred embassy. 
 
 What is suitable, then, is relative to the person, 3 
 and the occasion, and the business on hand. Yet he 
 who spends what is fitting on trifling or moderately 
 important occasions is not called magnificent ; e.g. 
 the man who can say, in the words of the poet 
 
 " To many a wandering beggar did I give ; " 
 
 but he who spends what is fitting on great occasions. 
 For the magnificent man is liberal, but a man may be 
 liberal without being magnificent. 
 
 The deficiency of this quality is called meanness;/ 4 
 the excess of it is called vulgarity, bad taste, etc. ;/ 
 the characteristic of which is not spending too much 
 on proper objects, but spending ostentatiously on im- 
 
1, 44-2, 10.] MAGNIFICENCE. 109 
 
 proper objects and in improper fashion, But we will 
 speak of them presently. 
 
 5 But the magnificent man is like a skilled artist ; 
 he can see what a case requires, and can spend great 
 
 6 sums tastefully. For, as we said at the outset, a 
 habit or type of character takes its' complexion 
 from the acts in which it issues and the things it 
 produces. 
 
 The magnificent man's expenses, therefore, must be 
 great and suitable. 
 
 What he produces then will also be of the same 
 nature; for only thus will the expense be at once 
 great and suitable to the result. 
 
 The result, then, must be proportionate to the ex- 
 penditure, and the expenditure proportionate to the 
 result, or even greater. 
 
 7 Moreover, the magnificent man's motive in thus 
 spending his money will be desire for that which is 
 noble ; for this is the common characteristic of all the 
 virtues. 
 
 8 Further, he will spend gladly and lavishly ; for a 
 
 9 minute calculation of cost is mean. He will inquire 
 how the work can be made most beautiful and most 
 elegant, rather than what its cost will be, and how 
 it can be done most cheaply. 
 
 10 So the magnificent man must be liberal also ; for 
 the liberal man, too, will spend the right amount in 
 the right manner ; only, both the amount and the 
 manner being right, magnificence is distinguished from 
 liberality (which has the same sphere of action) by 
 greatness I mean by actual magnitude of amount 
 spent : and secondly, where the amount spent is the 
 
110 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 same, the result of the magnificent man's expenditure 
 will be more magnificent.* 
 
 For the excellence of a possession is not the same 
 as the excellence of a product or work of art : as a 
 possession, that is most precious or estimable which is 
 worth most, e.g. gold ; as a work of art, that is most 
 estimable which is great and beautiful : for the sight 
 of such a work excites admiration, and a magnificent 
 thing is always admirable ; indeed, excellence of work 
 on a great scale is magnificence. 
 
 Now, there is a kind of expenditure which is 11 
 called in a special sense estimable or honourable, such 
 as expenditure on the worship of the gods (e.g. 
 offerings, temples, and sacrifices), and likewise all ex- 
 penditure on the worship of heroes, and again all 
 public service which is prompted by a noble ambi- 
 tion ; e.g. a man may think proper to furnish a chorus 
 or a war-ship, or to give a public feast, in a hand- 
 some style. 
 
 But in all cases, as we have said, we must have 12 
 regard to the person who spends, and ask who he is, 
 and what his means are; for expenditure should be 
 proportionate to means, and be suitable not only to 
 the result but to the persons who spend. 
 
 And so a poor man cannot be magnificent: he 13 
 has not the means to spend large sums suitably : if he 
 tries, he is a fool ; for he spends disproportionately and 
 in a wrong way; but an act must be done in the 
 
 * A worthy expenditure of 100,000 would be magnificent from 
 its mere amount ; but even 100 may be spent in a magnificent 
 manner (by a man who can afford it), e.g. in buying a rare engraving 
 tor a public collection : cf. 18. 
 
2, 11-17.] MAGNIFICENCE. Ill 
 
 L right way to be virtuous. But magnificence is becom- 
 ing in those who have got the requisite means, either 
 by their own efforts or through their ancestors or 
 their connections, and who have birth and reputation, 
 etc. ; for all these things give a man a certain great- 
 ness and importance. 
 
 3 The magnificent man, then, is properly a man of 
 'this sort, and magnificence exhibits itself most 
 properly in expenditure of this kind, as we have 
 said; for this is the greatest and most honourable 
 kind of expenditure : but it may also be displayed 
 on private occasions, when they are such as occur but 
 once in a man's life, e.g. a wedding or anything of 
 that kind; or when they are of special interest to 
 the state or the governing classes, e.g. receiving 
 strangers and sending them on their way, or making 
 presents to them and returning their presents ; for 
 the magnificent man does not lavish money on himself, 
 but on public objects ; and gifts to strangers bear some 
 resemblance to offerings to the gods. 
 
 6 Again, a magnificent man will build his house in 
 a style suitable to his wealth ; for even a fine house 
 is a kind of public ornament. And he will spend 
 money more readily on things that last ; for these are 
 the noblest. 
 
 7 And on each occasion he will provide what is suit- 
 able which is not the same for gods as for men, for 
 a temple as for a tomb and in his expenditure every 
 detail will be great after its kind, great expenditure 
 on a great occasion being the most magnificent, and 
 then in a less degree that which is great for the 
 occasion, whatever it be. 
 
112 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 Again, the greatness of the result is not the same\l8 
 as the greatness of the expense ; e.g. the most beauti- 
 ful ball or the most beautiful bottle that can be got 
 is a magnificent present for a child, though its price 
 is something small and mean. 
 
 And so it is characteristic of the magnificent man IS 
 to do magnificently that which he does, of whatever 
 kind it be ; for such work cannot easily be surpassed, 
 and the result is proportionate to the expense. 
 
 This, then, is the character of the magnificent man. 2C 
 
 The man who exceeds (whom we call vulgar) ex- 
 ceeds, as we said, in spending improperly. He spends 
 great sums on little objects, and makes an unseemly 
 display ; ejg. if he is entertaining the members of his 
 club, he will give them a wedding feast ; if he provides 
 the chorus for a comedy, he will bring his company 
 on the stage all dressed in purple, as they do at 
 Megara. And all this he will do from no desire for 
 what is noble or beautiful, but merely to display his 
 wealth, because he hopes thereby to gain admiration, 
 spending little where he should spond much, and much 
 where he should spend little. 
 
 But the mean man will fall short on every occa- 21 
 sion, and, even when he spends very large sums, will 
 spoil the beauty of his work by niggardliness in a 
 trifle, never doing anything without thinking twice 
 about it, and considering how it can be done at the 
 least possible cost, and bemoaning even that, and think- 
 ing he is doing everything on a needlessly large scale. 
 
 Both these characters, then, are vicious, but they 
 do not bring reproach, because they are neither 
 injurious to others nor very offensive in themselves. 
 
2, 18-3, 9.] HIGH-MINDEDNESS. 113 
 
 1 3. High-mindedness would seem from its very of high- 
 name (juya\oT//wx0 to have to do with great things ; Ml 
 
 let us first ascertain what these are. 
 
 2 It will make no difference whether we consider 
 the quality itself, or the man who exhibits the quality. 
 
 3 By a high-minded man we seem to mean one who 
 claims much and deserves much : for he who claims 
 much without deserving it is a fool ; but the possessor 
 
 4 of a virtue is never foolish or silly. The man we 
 have described, then, is high-minded. 
 
 He who deserves little and claims little is tem- 
 
 6 perate [or modest], but not high-minded: for high- 
 mindedness [or greatness of soul] implies great- 
 ness, just as beauty implies stature ; small men may 
 be neat and well proportioned, but cannot be called 
 beautiful. 
 
 J He who claims much without deserving it is 
 vain (though not every one who claims more than 
 he deserves is vain). 
 
 l He who claims less than he deserves is little- 
 minded, whether his deserts be great or moderate, or 
 whether they be small and he claims still less : but 
 this little-mindedness is most conspicuous in him 
 whose deserts are great ; for what would he do if his 
 deserts were less than they are ? 
 
 3 The high-minded man, then, in respect of the 
 greatness of his deserts occupies an extreme position, 
 but in that he behaves as he ought, observes the 
 mean ; for he claims that which he deserves, while all 
 the others claim too much or too little. 
 
 > But now if he deserves much and claims much, 
 and most of all deserves and claims the greatest 
 
 I 
 
114 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 things, there will be one thing with which he will be 
 especially concerned. For desert has reference to 
 external good things. Now, the greatest of external 
 good things we may assume to be that which we 
 render to the Gods as their due, and that which 
 people in high stations most desire, and which is the 
 prize appointed for the noblest deeds. But the thing 
 that answers to this description is honour, which, 
 we may safely say, is the greatest of all external 
 goods. Honours and dishonours, therefore, are the 
 field in which the high-minded man behaves as he 
 ought. 
 
 And indeed we may see, without going about to 
 prove it, that honour is what high-minded men are 
 concerned with; for it is honour that great men claim 
 and deserve. 
 
 The little-minded man falls short, whether we 
 compare his claims with his own deserts or with what 
 the high-minded man claims for himself. 
 
 The vain or conceited man exceeds what is due to 
 himself, though he does not exceed the high-minded 
 man in his claims.* 
 
 But the high-minded man, as he deserves the 
 greatest things, must be a perfectly good or excellent 
 man ; for the better man always deserves the greater 
 things, and the best possible man the greatest possible 
 things. The really high-minded man, therefore, must 
 be a good or excellent man. And indeed greatness 
 in every virtue or excellence would seem to be 
 necessarily implied in being a high-minded or great- 
 souled man. 
 
 * For that is impossible. 
 

 3, 10-18.] HIGH-MINDEDNESS. 115 
 
 It \fould be equally inconsistent with the high- 
 minded man's character to run along swinging his 
 arms, and to commit an act of injustice ; for what thing 
 is there for love of which he would do anything 
 unseemly, seeing that all things are of little account 
 to him? 
 
 Survey him point by point and you will find that 
 the notion of a high-minded man that is not a good or 
 excellent man is utterly absurd. Indeed, if he were 
 not good, he could not be worthy of honour ; for 
 honour is the prize of virtue, and is rendered to the 
 good as their due. 
 
 High-mindedness, then, seems to be the crowning 
 grace, as it were, of the virtues ; it makes them greater, 
 and cannot exist without them. And on this account 
 it is a hard thing to be truly high-minded ; for it is 
 impossible without the union of all the virtues. 
 
 The high-minded man, then, exhibits his character 
 especially In the matter of honours and dishonours 
 and at great honour from good men he will be 
 moderately pleased, as getting nothing more than his 
 due, or even less ; for no honour can be adequate to 
 complete virtue ; but nevertheless he will accept it, as 
 they have nothing greater to offer him. But honour 
 from ordinary men and on trivial grounds he will 
 utterly despise ; for that is not what he deserves. 
 And dishonour likewise he will make light of; for he 
 will never merit it. 
 
 But though it is especially in the matter of 
 honours, as we have said, that the high-minded man 
 displays his character, yet he will also observe the 
 mean in his feelings with regard to wealth and power 
 
116 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 and all kinds of good and evil fortune, whatever may 
 befall him, and will neither be very much exalted 
 by prosperity, nor very much cast down by adversity ; 
 seeing that not even honour affects him as if it were 
 a very important thing. For power and wealth are 
 desirable for honour's sake (at least, those who have 
 them wish to gain honour by them). He then who 
 thinks lightly of honour must think lightly of them 
 also. 
 
 And so high-minded men seem to look down upon 
 everything. 
 
 But the gifts of fortune also are commonly thought 
 to contribute to high-mindedness. For those who are i< 
 well born are thought worthy of honour, and those 
 who are powerful or wealthy; for they are in a posi- 
 tion of superiority, and that which is superior in any 
 good thing is always held in greater honour. And so 
 these things do make people more high-minded in a 
 sense ; for such people find honour from some. But 2< 
 ; in strictness it is only the good man that is worthy of 
 honour, though he that has both goodness and good 
 fortune is commonly thought to be more worthy of 
 honour. Those, however, who have these good things 
 without virtue, neither have any just claim to great 
 things, nor are properly to be called high-minded ; 
 for neither is possible without complete virtue. 
 
 But those who have these good things readily 2: 
 come to be supercilious and insolent. For without 
 virtue it is not easy to bear the gifts of fortune 
 becomingly ; and so, being unable to bear them, and 
 thinking themselves superior to everybody else, such 
 people look down upon others, and yet themselves do 
 
3, 19-25.] HIGH-MINDEDNESS. 117 
 
 whatever happens to please them. They imitate the 
 high-minded man without being really like him, and 
 they imitate him where they can ; that is to say, they 
 do not exhibit virtue in their acts, but they look down 
 upon others. Only the high-minded man never looks 
 down upon others without justice (for he estimates 
 them correctly), while most men do so for quite 
 irrelevant reasons. 
 
 The high-minded man is not quick to run into 
 petty dangers, and indeed does not love danger, since 
 there are few things that he much values ; but he is 
 rady to incur a -great- danger, and whenever he does 
 so is unsparing of his life, as a thing that is not worth 
 keeping at all costs. 
 
 It is his nature to confer benefits, but he is 
 ashamed to receive them ; for the former isthe part 
 of a superior, the latter of an inferior. And when 
 he has received a benefit, he is apt to confer a greater 
 in return; for thus his creditor will become his 
 debtor and be in the position of a recipient of his 
 favour. 
 
 It is thought, moreover, that such men remember 
 those on whom they have conferred favours better 
 than those from whom they have received them ; for 
 the recipient of a benefit is inferior to the benefactor, 
 but such a man wishes to be in the position of a 
 superior. So he likes to be reminded of the one, but 
 dislikes to be reminded of the other ; and this is the 
 reason why we read * that Thetis would not mention 
 to Zeus the services she had done him, and why the 
 Lacedaemonians, in treating with the Athenians, re- 
 
 * Homer, II. i. 394 f., 503 f. 
 
118 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [Ex. IV. 
 
 minded them of the benefits received by Sparta rather 
 than of those conferred by her. 
 
 It is characteristic of the high-minded man, again, 2e 
 never or reluctantly to ask favours, but to be ready 
 to confer them, and to be lofty in his behaviour to 
 those who are high in station and favoured by fortune, 
 but affable to those of the middle ranks ; for it is a 
 difficult thing and a dignified thing to assert supe- 
 riority over the former, but easy to assert it over the 
 latter. A haughty demeanour in dealing with the 
 great is quite consistent with good breeding, but in 
 dealing with those of low estate is brutal, like show- 
 ing off one's strength upon a cripple. 
 
 Another of his characteristics is not to rush in 2' 
 wherever honour is to be won, nor to go where others 
 take the lead, but to hold aloof and to shun an enter- 
 prise, except when great honour is to be gained, or a 
 great work to be done not to do many things, but 
 great things and notable. 
 
 Again, he must be open in his hate and in his 28 
 love ; for concealment shows fear. 
 
 He must care for truth more than for what men 
 will think of him, and speak and act openly ; he will 
 not hesitate to say all that he thinks, as he looks down 
 upon mankind. So he will speak the truth, except 
 when he speaks ironically; and irony he will employ 
 in speaking to the generality of men. 
 
 Another of his characteristics is that he cannot 29 
 fashion his life to suit another, except he be a friend; 
 for that is servile : and so all flatterers or hangers on 
 of great men are of a slavish nature, and men of low 
 natures become flatterers. 
 
3, 26-34.] HIGH-MINDEDNESS. 119 
 
 Nor is he easily moved to admiration ; for nothing 
 is great to him. 
 
 He readily forgets injuries ; for it is not consistent 
 with his character to brood on the past, especially on 
 past injuries, but rather to overlook them. 
 
 He is no gossip ; he will neither talk about him- 
 self nor about others; for he cares not that men 
 should praise him, nor that others should be blamed 
 (though, on the other hand, he is not very ready to 
 bestow praise) ; and so he is not apt to speak evil of 
 others, not even of his enemies, except with the ex- 
 press purpose of giving offence. 
 
 When an event happens that cannot be helped or 
 is of slight importance, he is the last man in the 
 world to cry out or to beg for help ; for that is the 
 conduct of a man who thinks these events very 
 important. 
 
 He loves to possess beautiful things that bring no 
 profit, rather than useful things that pay ; for this is 
 characteristic of the man whose resources are in 
 himself. 
 
 Further, the character of the high-minded man 
 seems to require that his gait should be slow, his 
 voice deep, his speech measured; for a man is not 
 likely to be in a hurry when there are few things in 
 which he is deeply interested, nor excited when he 
 holds nothing to be of very great importance: and 
 these are the causes of a high voice and rapid move- 
 ments. 
 
 This, then, is the character of the high-minded man. 
 
 But he that is deficient in this quality is called 
 little-minded ; he that exceeds, vain or conceited. 
 
120 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [UK. IV. 
 
 Now these two also do not seem to be bad for 3f 
 they do no harm though they are in error. 
 
 For the little-minded man, though he deserves 
 good things, deprives himself of that which he 
 deserves, and so seems to be the worse for not claim- 
 ing these good things, and for misjudging himself; 
 for if he judged right he would desire what he 
 deserves, as it is good. I do not mean to say that 
 I such people seem to be fools, but rather too re- 
 / tiring. But a misjudgment of this kind does seem 
 actually to make them worse; for men strive for 
 that which they deserve, and shrink from noble deeds 
 and employments of which they think themselves 
 unworthy, as well as from mere external good things. 
 
 But vain men are fools as well as ignorant of 36 
 themselves, and make this plain to all the world ; for, 
 not doubting their worth, they undertake honourable 
 offices, and presently stand convicted of incapacity : 
 they dress in fine clo'thes and put on fine airs and so 
 on; they wish everybody to know of their good 
 fortune ; they talk about themselves, as if that were 
 the way to honour. 
 
 But little-mindedness is more opposed to high- 37 
 mindedness than vanity is; for it is both commoner 
 and worse. 
 
 High-mindedness, then, as we have said, has to do 38 
 with honour on a large scale. 
 )/ a similar 4 g u t it appears (as we said at the outset) that }1 
 
 irtue in ' 
 
 wiJerll there is also a virtue concerned with honour, which 
 bears the same relation to high-mindedness that 
 liberality bears to magnificence ; i.e. both the virtue 
 in question and liberality have nothing to do with 
 
3, 35-4, 5.] HIGH-MIKDEDNESS. 121 
 
 great things, but cause us to behave properly in 
 
 2 matters of moderate or of trifling importance. Just 
 as in the taking and giving of money it is possible 
 to observe the mean, and also to exceed or fall short 
 of it, so it is possible in desire for honour to go too 
 far or not far enough, or, again, to desire honour from 
 the right source and in the right manner. 
 
 3 A man is called ambitious or fond of honour 
 (^iXori/noci) in reproach, as desiring honour more than 
 he ought, and from wrong sources ; and a man is 
 called unambitious, or not fond of honour (a0t- 
 Atm/ioe) in reproach, as not desiring to be honoured 
 even for noble deeds. 
 
 But sometimes a man is called ambitious or fond 
 of honour in praise, as being manly and fond of 
 noble things; and sometimes a man is called un- 
 ambitious or not fond of honour in praise, as being 
 moderate and temperate (as we said at the outset), 
 t It is plain, then, that there are various senses 
 in which a man is said to be fond of a thing, and 
 that the term fond of honour has not always the 
 same sense, but that as a term of praise it means 
 fonder than most men, and as a term of reproach it 
 means fonder than is right. But, as there is no re- 
 cognized term for the observance of the mean, the ex- 
 tremes fight, so to speak, for what seems an empty place. 
 But wherever there is excess arid defect there is also 
 a mean : and honour is in fact desired more than is 
 right, and less: therefore * it may also be desired to the 
 right degree ; at least, this character is praised as ob- 
 servance of the mean in the matter of honour, though it 
 * Beading e<m ^ with all the best MSS. 
 
122 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 has no recognized name. Compared with ambition, 
 it seems to be lack of ambition ; compared with lack 
 of ambition, it seems to be ambition ; compared with 
 both at once, it seems in a way to be both at once. 
 This, we may observe, also happens in the case of 6 
 the other virtues. But in this case the extreme 
 characters seem to be opposed to one another [instead 
 of to the moderate character], because the character 
 that observes the mean has no recognized name. 
 if gentle- 5. Gentleness is a kind of moderation with respect 1 
 
 to anger; but there is no recognized name for him 
 who strictly observes the mean, and scarcely any 
 recognized names for those who go into extremes; 
 and so, though the term gentleness properly denotes 
 an inclination towards deficiency in anger (for which 
 also there is no proper name), we sometimes apply it 
 to the man who observes the mean.* 
 
 The excess may be called wrathfulness ; for the 2 
 emotion concerned is wrath or anger, though the 
 things that cause it are many and various. 
 
 He then who is angry on the right occasions and 3 
 with the right persons, and also in the right manner, 
 and at the right season, and for the right length of 
 time, is praised ; we will call him gentle, therefore, 
 since gentleness is used as a term of praise. For the 
 
 * This seems the only way of construing the passage as it 
 stands, for the context itself shows that he cannot mean " there is a 
 name for the quality though none for the man," not to mention 
 that II. 7, 10 says distinctly " there is no recognized name for the 
 quality." But it is possible that irpa^rrjs 5' has crept in, and that 
 the passage should begin 'Eo-rl jucv, etc.; then it runs smoothly 
 enough : " there is a moderation in anger : we will call it irpaorijs, 
 though this term properly denotes an inclination to deficiency." 
 
4, 6-5, 8.] GENTLENESS. 123 
 
 man who is called gentle wishes not to lose his 
 balance, and not to be carried away by his emotions 
 or passions, but to be angry only in such manner, 
 and on such occasions, and for such period as reason 
 
 4 shall prescribe. But he seems to err rather on the 
 side of deficiency ; he is loth to take vengeance and 
 very ready to forgive. 
 
 > But the deficiency call it wrathlessness or 
 what you will is censured. Those who are not 
 angered by what ought to anger them seem to be 
 foolish, and so do those who are not angry as and 
 
 6 when and with whom they ought to be ; for such a 
 man seems to feel nothing and to be pained by 
 nothing, and, as he is never angered, to lack spirit to 
 defend himself. But to suffer one's self to be insulted, 
 or to look quietly on while one's friends are being 
 insulted, shows a slavish nature. 
 
 7 It is possible to exceed in all points, i.e. to be 
 angry with persons with whom one ought not, and 
 at things at which one ought not to be angry, and 
 more than one ought, and more quickly, and for a 
 longer time. All these errors, however, are not found 
 in the same person. That would be impossible ; for 
 evil is self-destructive, and, if it appears in its entirety, 
 becomes quite unbearable. 
 
 8 So we find that wrathful men get angry very 
 soon, and with people with whom and at things 
 at which they ought not, and more than they ought ; 
 but they soon get over their anger, arid that is a very 
 good point in their character. And the reason is that 
 they do not keep in their anger, but, through the 
 quickness of their temper, at once retaliate, and so let 
 
124 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. IV. 
 
 what is in them come to light, and then have done 
 with it. 
 
 But those who are called choleric are excessively 9 
 quick-tempered, and apt to be angered at anything 
 and on any occasion ; whence the name (ajcpoxoAot). 
 
 Sulky men are hard to appease and their anger 10 
 lasts long, because they keep it in. For so soon as 
 we retaliate we are relieved : vengeance makes us -, 
 cease from our anger, substituting a pleasant for a 
 painful state. But the sulky man, as he does not thus 
 relieve himself, bears the burden of his wrath about 
 with him ; for no one even tries to reason him out of 
 it, as he does not show it, and it takes a long time 
 to digest one's anger within one's self. Such men 
 are exceedingly troublesome to themselves and their 
 dearest friends. 
 
 Lastly, hard (xaX^Troc) is the name we give to 11 
 those who are offended by things that ought not to 
 offend them, and more than they ought, and for a 
 longer time, and who will not be appeased without 
 vengeance or punishment. 
 
 Of the two extremes the excess is the more opposed 12 
 to gentleness ; for it is commoner (as men are naturally 
 more inclined to vengeance) ; and a hard-tempered 
 person is worse to live with [than one who is too 
 easy-tempered]. 
 
 What we said some time ago * is made abundantly 13 
 manifest by what we have just been saying; it is not 
 easy to define how, and with whom, and at what, and 
 for how long one ought to be angry how far it is 
 right to go, and at what point misconduct begins. 
 * II. 9, 7. 
 
5, 9-6, 3.] AGREEABLENESS. 125 
 
 He who errs slightly from the right course is not 
 blamed, whether it be on the side of excess or of 
 deficiency ; for sometimes we praise those who fall 
 short and call them gentle, and sometimes those who 
 behave hardly are called manly, as being able to rule. 
 But what amount and kind of error makes a man 
 blamable can scarcely be defined; for it depends 
 upon the particular circumstances of each case, and 
 can only be decided by immediate perception. 
 A But so much at least is manifest, that on the one 
 hand the habit which observes the mean is to be 
 praised, i.e. the habit which causes us to be angry 
 with the right persons, at the right things, in the right 
 manner, etc. ; and that, on the other hand, all habits 
 of excess or deficiency deserve censure slight censure 
 if the error be trifling, graver censure if it be con- 
 siderable, and severe censure if it be great. 
 
 1 6. It is evident, therefore, that we must strive for 
 the habit which observes the mean. 
 
 This then may be taken as our account o the 
 habits which have to do with anger. 
 
 In the matter of social intercourse, i.e. the living 
 with others and joining with them in conversation a 
 and in common occupations, some men show them- 
 selves what is called obsequious those who to 
 please you praise everything, and never object to 
 anything, but think they ought always to avoid 
 
 2 giving pain to those whom they meet. Those who 
 take the opposite line, and object to everything and 
 never think for a moment what pain they may give, 
 are called cross and contentious. 
 
 3 It is sufficiently plain that both these .habits 
 
126 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE IV 
 
 merit censure, and that the habit which takes the 
 middle course between them is to be commended 
 the habit which makes a man acquiesce in what he 
 ought and in the right manner, and likewise refuse 
 to acquiesce. This habit or type of character has no 4 
 recognized name, but seems most nearly to resemble 
 friendliness (QiXia). For the man who exhibits this 
 moderation is the same sort of man that \ve mean 
 when we speak of an upright friend, except that 
 then affection also is implied. This differs from ; 
 friendliness in that it does not imply emotion and 
 affection for those with whom we associate; for he 
 who has this quality acquiesces when he ought, not 
 because he loves or hates, but because that is his 
 character. He will behave thus alike to those whom 
 he knows and to those whom he does not know, to 
 strangers and to acquaintances, to those with whom 
 he is intimate and to those with whom he is not, 
 only that in each case he will behave as is fitting; 
 for we are not bound to show the same consideration 
 to strangers as to intimates, nor to take the same 
 care not to pain them. 
 
 We have already said in general terms that such 6 
 a man will behave as he ought in his intercourse 
 with others, but we must add that, while he tries to 
 contribute to the pleasure of others and to avoid 
 giving them pain, he will always be guided by refer- 
 ence to that which is noble and fitting. It seems to 7 
 be with the pleasures and pains of social intercourse 
 that he is concerned. Now, whenever he finds that 
 it is not noble, or is positively hurtful to himself, to 
 contribute to any of these pleasures, he will refuse to 
 
6, 4-7, 1.] TRUTHFULNESS. 127 
 
 acquiesce and will prefer to give pain. And if the 
 pleasure is such as to involve discredit, and no slight 
 discredit, or some injury to him who is the source 
 of it, while his opposition will give a little pain, 
 he will not acquiesce, but will set his face against 
 it. But he will behave differently according as he is 
 in the company of great people or ordinary people, 
 of intimate friends or mere acquaintances, and so on, 
 rendering to each his due; preferring, apart from 
 other considerations, to promote pleasure, and loth to 
 give pain, but regulating his conduct by consideration 
 of the consequences, if they be considerable by con- 
 sideration, I mean, of what is noble and fitting. And 
 thus for the sake of great pleasure in the future he 
 will inflict a slight pain now. 
 
 The man who observes the mean, then, is some- 
 thing of this sort, but has no recognized name. 
 
 The man who always makes himself pleasant, if 
 he aims simply at pleasing and has no ulterior object 
 in view, is called obsequious; but if he does so in 
 order to get some profit for himself, either in the way 
 of money or of money's worth, he is a flatterer. 
 
 But he who sets his face against everything is, as 
 we have already said, cross and contentious. 
 
 But the extremes seem here to be opposed to one 
 another [instead of to the mean], because there is no 
 name for the mean. 
 
 7. The moderation which avoids boastfulness qftrutt,- 
 (which virtue also lacks a name) seems to display 
 itself in almost the same field. 
 
 It will be as well to examine these qualities also ; 
 for we shall know more about human character, when 
 
128 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 we have gone through each of its forms ; and we shall 
 be more fully assured that the virtues are modes of 
 observing the mean, when we have surveyed them all 
 and found that this is the case with every one of 
 them. 
 
 We have already spoken of the characters that 
 are displayed in social intercourse in the matter of 
 pleasure and pain ; let us now go on to speak in like 
 manner of those who show themselves truthful or 
 untruthful in what they say and do, and in the 
 pretensions they put forward. 
 
 First of all, then, the boaster seems to be fond of 2 
 pretending to things that men esteem, though he has 
 them not, or not to such extent as he pretends ; the 3 
 ironical man, on the other hand, seems to disclaim 
 what he has, or to depreciate it; while he who ob- 4 
 serves the mean, being a man who is "always himself " 
 (avOtKaaroc rte), is truthful in word and deed, con- 5 
 fessing the simple facts about himself, and neither 
 exaggerating nor diminishing them. 
 
 Now, each of these lines of conduct may be pur- 6 
 sued either with an ulterior object or without one. 
 
 When he has no ulterior object in view, each man 
 speaks and acts and lives according to his character. 
 
 But falsehood in itself is vile and blamable; 
 truth is noble and praiseworthy in itself. 
 
 And so the truthful man, as observing the mean, 
 is praiseworthy, while the untruthful characters are 7 
 both blamable, but the boastful more than the ironical. 
 
 Let us speak then of each of them, and first of the 
 truthful character. 
 
 We must remember that we are not speaking of 
 
7. 2-12.] TKUTHFULNESS. 129 
 
 the man who tells the truth in matters of business, or 
 in matters which come within the sphere of injustice 
 and justice (for these matters would belong to another 
 
 8 virtue) ; the man we are considering is the man who 
 in cases where no such important issues are involved 
 is truthful in his speech and in his life, because that 
 is his character. 
 
 Such a man would seem to be a good man 
 (ImeiKrig). For he who loves truth, and is truthful 
 where nothing depends upon it, will still more surely 
 tell the truth where serious interests are involved; 
 he will shun falsehood as a base thing here, seeing 
 that he shunned it elsewhere, apart from any con- 
 
 9 sequences : but such a man merits praise. 
 
 He inclines rather towards under-statement than 
 
 10 over-statement of the truth ; and this seems to be 
 the more suitable course, since all exaggeration is 
 offensive. 
 
 On the other hand, he who pretends to more than 
 he has with no ulterior object [the boaster proper] 
 seems not to be a good character (for if he were he 
 
 11 would not take pleasure in falsehood), but to be silly 
 rather than bad. 
 
 But of boasters who have an ulterior object, he 
 whose object is reputation or honour is not very 
 severely censured (just as the boaster proper is not), 
 2 but he whose object is money, or means of making 
 money, is held in greater reproach. 
 
 For we must observe that what distinguishes the 
 boaster proper from the other kinds of boasters, is no6 
 the faculty of boasting, but the purpose of his boast- 
 ing : the boaster proper is a boaster by habit, and 
 
 K 
 
130 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 because that is his character ; just as there is on the 
 one hand the liar proper, who delights in falsehood 
 itself, and on the other hand the liar who lies through 
 desire of honour or gain. 
 
 Those who boast with a view to reputation pre- 13 
 tend to those things for which a man is commended 
 or is thought happy ; those whose motive is gain pre- 
 tend to those things which are of advantage to others, 
 and whose absence may escape detection, e.g. to skill 
 in magic or in medicine. And so it is usually some- 
 thing of this sort that men pretend to and boast of ; 
 for the conditions specified are realized in them. 
 
 Ironical people, on the other hand, with their 14 
 depreciatory way of speaking of themselves, seem to 
 be of a more refined character ; for their motive in 
 speaking thus seems to be not love of gain, but desire 
 to avoid parade : but what they disclaim seems also * 
 to be especially that which men esteem of which 
 Socrates was an instance. 
 
 (Those who [do not disclaim creditable qualities 15. 
 which they have, but] pretend to contemptible quali- 
 ties which they plainly have not, are called sham 
 scoundrels (jSavKOTravoOjoyoi), and may well be held in 
 contempt.) 
 
 And sometimes this self-depreciation is scarcely 
 distinguishable from boasting, as for instance dressing 
 like a Spartan ; for there is something boastful in 
 extreme depreciation as well as in exaggeration. 
 
 But those who employ irony in moderation, and 16 
 speak ironically in matters that are not too obvious " 
 and palpable, appear to be men of refinement. 
 
 * The things that the boaster pretends to are also the things 
 that the ironical man disclaims. 
 
7, 13-8, 4.] WITTINESS. 131 
 
 17 Finally, the boaster seems to be especially the 
 opposite of the truthful man; for he is worse than 
 the ironical man. 
 
 1 8, Again, since relaxation is an element in our 
 life, and one mode of relaxation is amusing conver- 
 sation, it seems that in this respect also there is a 
 proper way of mixing with others ; i.e. that there are 
 things that it is right to say, and a right way of say- 
 ing them : and the same with hearing ; though here 
 also it will make a difference what kind of people 
 they are in whose presence you are speaking, or to 
 whom you are listening. 
 
 2 And it is plain that it is possible in these matters 
 also to go beyond, or to fall short of, the mean. 
 
 3 Now, those who go to excess in ridicule seem to 
 be buffoons and vulgar fellows, striving at all costs for 
 a ridiculous effect, and bent rather on raising a laugh 
 than on making their witticisms elegant and inoffen- 
 sive to the subject of them. While those who will 
 never say anything laughable themselves, and frown 
 on those who do, are considered boorish and morose. 
 But those who jest gracefully are called witty, or 
 men of ready wit (tvrpairfXoi), as it were ready or 
 versatile men. 
 
 For* a man's character seems to reveal itself in 
 these sallies or playful movements, and so we judge of 
 his moral constitution by them, as we judge of his 
 body by its movements. 
 
 4 But through the prominence given to ridiculous 
 things, and the excessive delight which most people 
 
 * What follows explains why all these terms have a specific 
 moral meaning. 
 
132 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 take in amusement and jesting, the buffoon is often 
 called witty because he gives delight. But that there 
 is a difference, and a considerable difference, between 
 the two is plain from what we have said. 
 
 An element in the character that observes the 5 
 mean in these matters is tact. A man of tact will 
 only say and listen to such things as it befits an 
 honest man and a gentleman to say and listen to; 
 for there are things that it is quite becoming for such 
 a man to say and to listen to in the way of jest, and 
 the jesting of a gentleman differs from that of a man 
 of slavish nature, and the jesting of an educated from 
 that of an uneducated man. 
 
 This one may see by the difference between the old 6 
 comedy and the new : the fun of the earlier writers 
 is obscenity, of the later innuendo ; and there is no 
 slight difference between the two as regards decency. 
 
 Can good jesting, then, be defined as making 7 
 jests that befit a gentleman, or that do not pain the 
 hearer, or even that give him pleasure ? Nay, I 
 think this also is a thing that cannot be defined : 
 different things are hateful and pleasant to different 
 people. 
 
 But the things that he will listen to will be of the 8 
 same sort [as those that he will say, whatever that 
 be] : jests that a man can listen to he can, we think, 
 make himself. 
 
 So then there are jests that he will not teike 9 
 [though we cannot exactly define them] ; for to 
 make a jest of a man is to vilify him in a way, and 
 the law forbids certain kinds of vilification, and ought 
 perhaps also to forbid certain kinds of jesting. 
 
 
8, 5-9, 2.] SHAME. 133 
 
 The refined and gentlemanly man, therefore, will 
 thus regulate his wit, being as U were a law to 
 himself. 
 
 to This then is the character of him who observes 
 the mean, whether we call him a man of tact or a 
 man of ready wit. 
 
 The buffoon, on the other hand, cannot resist an 
 opportunity for a joke, and, if he can but raise a laugh, 
 will spare neither himself nor others, and will say 
 things which no man of refinement would say, and 
 some of which he would not even listen to. 
 
 The boor, lastly, is wholly useless for this kind of 
 intercourse ; he contributes nothing, and takes every - 
 
 11 thing in ill part. And yet recreation and amusement 
 seem to be necessary ingredients in our life. 
 
 12 In conclusion, then, the modes just described of 
 observing the mean in social life are three in ^number,* 
 and all have to do with conversation or joint action 
 of some kind : but they differ in that one has to do 
 with truth, while the other two are concerned with 
 what is pleasant; and of the two that are concerned 
 with pleasure,, one finds its field in our amusements* . 
 the other in all other kinds of social intercourse. 
 
 1 9. Shame (atSoic) cannot properly be spoken of o/ 
 as a virtue ; for it is more like a feeling or emotion &* 
 than a habit or trained faculty. At least, it is 
 
 2 defined as a kind of fear of disgrace, and its effects 
 are analogous to those of the fear that is excited by 
 danger ; for men blush when they are ashamed, while 
 the fear of death makes them pale. Both then seem 
 to be in a way physical, which is held to be a mark 
 
 * Friendliness, truthfulness, wit. 
 
134 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IV. 
 
 of a feeling or emotion, rather than of a habit or 
 trained faculty. ^ 
 
 Again, it is a feeling which is not becoming at all 3 
 times of life, but only in youth ; it is thought proper 
 for young people to be ready to feel shame, because, 
 as their conduct is guided by their emotions, they 
 often are misled, but are restrained from wrong 
 actions by shame. 
 
 And so we praise young men when they are 
 ready to feel shame, but no one would praise a man 
 of more advanced years for being apt to be ashamed ; 
 for we consider that he ought not to do anything 
 which could make him ashamed of himself. 
 
 And so a good man has no business with shame, 4 
 seeing that it is occasioned by base acts ; for such acts 
 should not be done at all. 
 
 It may be said that some acts are really disgrace- 5 
 ful, others disgraceful only in public estimation ; but 
 that makes no difference : neither ought to be done, 
 and so a man ought to have no occasion to be ashamed. 
 
 And to be the sort of a man that would do a dis- 6 
 graceful deed is to be other than a good man. 
 
 But supposing a man's character to be such that, 
 if he were to do one of these disgraceful acts, he 
 would be ashamed, it is absurd to fancy that he is a 
 good man on that account ; for shame is only felt at 
 voluntary acts, and a good man will never voluntarily 
 do vile acts. 
 
 At the utmost, shame would be hypothetically 7 
 good ; that is to say, supposing he were to do the act, 
 a good man would be ashamed : but there is nothing 
 hypothetical about the virtues. 
 
9, 3-8.] SHAME. 135 
 
 Again, granting that it is bad to be shameless, or 
 not to be ashamed to do disgraceful things, it does not 
 therefore follow that it is good to do them and be 
 ashamed of it. 
 
 Continence,* in the same way, is not a virtue, but 
 something between virtue and vice. 
 
 But we will explain this point about continence 
 later; f let us now treat of justice. 
 
 * The continent man desires the evil which he ought not to 
 desire, and so is not good ; but he does not do it, and so is not bad : 
 thus continence also might be called " hypothetically good" ; granting 
 the evil desire (which excludes goodness proper), the best thing is 
 to master it. 
 
 f Book VIL 
 
BOOK V. 
 
 THE SAME concluded. JUSTICE. 
 1. WE now have to inquire about justice and in- l 
 
 justice, an d ^ as k what sort of acts they are concerned 
 fished c>/ w ^ n > an d in- what sense justice observes the mean, 
 
 Se l)irt!i'e 
 
 an< ^ wna ^ are ^ ne extremes whose mean is that which 
 * s j us ^- ^^ ^ ^his inquiry we will follow the same 2 
 method as before. 
 
 We see that all men intend by justice to signify [3 
 the sort of habit or character that makes men apt to \ 
 do what is just, and which further makes them act \ 
 justly* and wish what is just; while by injustice 1 
 they intend in like manner to signify the sort of 
 character that makes men act unjustly and wish what 
 is unjust. Let us lay this down, then, as an outline 
 to work upon. 
 
 We thus oppose justice and injustice, because a 4 
 habit or trained faculty differs in this respect both 
 from a science and a faculty or power. I mean that 
 whereas both of a pair of opposites come under the 
 same science or power, a habit which produces a 
 
 * A man may " do that which is just " without " acting justly : " 
 c/. supra, II. 4, 3, and infra, cap. 8. 
 
K IT 
 
 Vv 
 
 1, 1-8.] JUSTICE. 137 
 
 certain result does not also produce the opposite 
 result; e.g. health produces healthy manifestations 
 only, and not unhealthy; for we say a man has a 
 healthy gait when he walks like a man in health. 
 
 [Not that the two opposites are unconnected.] In 
 the first place, a habit is often known by the opposite 
 habit, and often by its causes and results: if we 
 know what good condition is, we can learn from 
 that what bad condition is; and, again, from that 
 which conduces to good condition we can infer what 
 good condition itself is, and conversely from the latter 
 can infer the former. For instance, if good condition 
 be firmness of flesh, it follows that bad condition is 
 flabbiness of flesh, and that what tends to produce 
 firmness of flesh conduces to good condition. 
 
 And, in the second place, if one of a pair of 
 opposite terms have more senses than one, the other 
 term will also, as a general rule, have more than one ; 
 so that here, if the term "just" have several senses, 
 the term " unjust " also will have several. 
 
 And in fact it seems that both "justice" and 
 " injustice " have several senses, but, as the different 
 things covered by the common name are very closely 
 related, the fact that they are different escapes notice 
 and does not strike us, as it does when there is a 
 great disparity a great difference, say, in outward 
 appearance as it strikes every one, for instance, that 
 the icXa'c (clavis, collar-bone) which lies under the 
 neck of an animal is different from the icXa'e (clavis, 
 key) with which we fasten the door. 
 
 Let us then ascertain in how many different 
 senses we call a man unjust. 
 
138 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 Firstly, he who breaks the laws is considered 
 unjust, and, secondly, he who takes more than his 
 share, or the unfair man. 
 
 Plainly, then, a just man will mean (1) a law- 
 abiding and (2) a fair man. 
 
 A just thing then will be (1) that which is in 
 accordance with the law, (2) that which is fair ; and 
 the unjust thing will be (1) that which is contrary 
 to law, (2) that which is unfair. 
 
 But since the unjust man, in one of the two senses 9 
 of the word, takes more than his share, the sphere of 
 his action will be good things not all good things, 
 but those with which good and ill fortune are con- 
 cerned, which are always good in themselves, but 
 not always good for us the things that we men pray 
 for and pursue, whereas we ought rather to pray that 
 what is good in itself may be good for us, while 
 we choose that which is good for us. 
 
 But the unjust man does not always take more 10 
 than his share ; he sometimes take less, viz. of those 
 things which are bad in the abstract; but as the 
 lesser evil is considered to be in some sort good, and 
 taking more means taking more good, he is said to 
 take more than his share. But in any case he is 
 unfair; for this is a wider term which includes the 11 
 other. 
 
 We found that the law-breaker is unjust, and 12 
 jthe law-abiding man is just. Hence it follows that 
 whatever is according to law is just in one sense of 
 the word. [And this, we see, is in fact the case ;] for 
 what the legislator prescribes is according to law, 
 and is always said to be just. 
 
1, 9-16.] JUSTICE. 139 
 
 Now, the laws prescribe about all manner of 
 things, aiming at the common interest of all, or of the 
 best men, or of those who are supreme in the state 
 (position in the state being determined by reference to 
 personal excellence, or to some other such standard) ; 
 and so in one sense we apply the term just to what- 
 ever tends to produce and preserve the happiness 
 of the community, and the several elements of that 
 happiness. The law bids us display courage (as not 
 to leave our ranks, or run, or throw away our arms), 
 and temperance (as not to commit adultery or out- 
 rage), and gentleness (as not to strike or revile our 
 neighbours), and so on with all the other virtues and 
 vices, enjoining acts and forbidding them, rightly 
 when it is a good law, not so rightly when it is a 
 hastily improvised one. 
 
 Justice, then, in this sense of the word, is com- 
 plete virtue, with the addition that it is displayed 
 towards others. On this account it is often spoken 
 of as the chief of the virtues, and such that "neither 
 evening nor morning star is so lovely;" and the 
 saying has become proverbial, "Justice sums up all 
 virtues in itself." 
 
 It is complete virtue, first of all, because it is I 
 the exhibition of complete virtue : it is also complete I 
 because he that has it is able to exhibit virtue in 
 dealing with his neighbours, and not merely in his 
 private affairs ; for there are many who can be vir~ 
 tuous enough at home, but fail in dealing with their 
 neighbours. 
 
 This is the reason why people commend the say- 
 ing of Bias, " Office will show the man \ " for he that 
 
140 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARiSTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 is in office ipso facto stands in relation to others,* 
 and has dealings with them. 
 
 This, too, is the reason why justice alone of all 17 
 the virtues is thought to be another's good, as imply- 
 ing this relation to others ; for it is another's interest 
 that justice aims at ^heinterest, namely, of the ruler 
 
 While then the worst man is he who displays 18 
 vice both in his own affairs and in his dealings with 
 his friends, the best man is not he who displays 
 virtue in his own affairs merely, but he who displays 
 virtue towards others ; for this is the hard thing to do. 
 
 Justice, then, in this sense of the word, is not a part 19 
 of virtue, but the whole of it ; and the injustice which is 
 opposed to it is not a part of vice, but the whole of it. 
 
 How virtue differs from justice in this sense is 20 
 ^ plain from what we have said ; it is one and the 
 same character differently viewed : f viewed in rela- 
 tion to others, this character is justice ; viewed simply 
 as a certain character,! it is virtue. 
 y -justice 2. We have now to examine justice in that sense i 
 
 iess~how in which it is a part of virtue for we maintain that 
 s*fce(i), there is such a justice and also the corresponding 
 
 What is just . . . J 
 
 ndistri- kind of injustice. 
 
 ration dis- *> 
 
 That the word is so used is easily shown. In the' 2 
 
 * 
 
 ram what is 
 
 case of the other kinds of badness, the man who dis- 
 orrectton. ' 
 
 plays them, though he acts unjustly [in one sense 
 of the word], yet does not take more than his share : 
 
 * While his children are regarded as parts of him, and even his 
 wife is not regarded as an independent person : cf. infra, 6, 8. 
 
 t Or " differently manifested : " the phrase is used in both 
 senses. 
 
 J Putting comma after cbAtDs instead of after 1$ (Trendelenburg) . 
 
1, 17-2/5.] JUSTICE.. 141 
 
 for instance, when a man throws away his shield 
 through cowardice, or reviles another through ill 
 temper, or through illiberality refuses to help another - 
 with money. But when he takes more than his 
 share, he displays perhaps no one of these vices, nor 
 does he display them all, yet he displays a kind of, 
 badness (for we blame him), namely, injustice [in the \ 
 second sense of the word]. 
 
 We see, then, that there is another sense of the 
 word injustice, in which it stands for a part of 
 that injustice which is coextensive with badness, and 
 another sense of the word unjust, in which it is 
 applied to a part only of those things to which it 
 is applied in the former sense of " contrary to law." 
 
 Again, if one man commits adultery with a view 
 to gain, and makes money by it, and another man 
 does it from lust, with expenditure and loss of money, 
 the latter would not be called grasping, but profli- 
 gate, while the former would not be called profligate, 
 but unjust [in the narrower sense]. Evidently, then, 
 he would be called unjust because of his gain. 
 
 * Once more, acts of injustice, in the former sense, 
 are always referred to some particular vice, as if a 
 man commits adultery, to profligacy ; if he deserts his 
 comrade in arms, to cowardice ; if he strikes another, 
 to anger : but in a case of unjust gain, the act is 
 referred to no other vice than injustice. 
 
 It is plain then that, besides the injustice which 
 
 * This is not merely a repetition of what has been said in 2 : 
 acts of injustice (2) are there distinguished from acts of injustice 
 (1) by the motive (gain), here by the fact that they are referred to 
 no other vice than injustice. 
 
142 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 is coextensive with vice, there is a second kind of 
 injustice, which is a particular kind of vice, bearing 
 the same name* as the first, because the same generic 
 conception forms the basis of its definition ; i.e. both 
 display themselves in dealings with others, but the 
 sphere of the second is limited to such things as 
 honour, wealth, security (perhaps some one name might 
 be found to include all this class f), and its motive 
 is the pleasure of gain, while the sphere of the first 
 is coextensive with the sphere of the good man's action. 
 
 We have ascertained, then, that there are more 7 
 kinds of justice than one, and that there is another 
 kind besides that which is identical with complete 
 virtue ; we now have to find what it is, and what 
 are its characteristics. 
 
 We have already distinguished two senses in 8 
 which we speak of things as unjust, viz. (1) contrary 
 to law, (2) unfair ; and two senses in which we speak 
 of things as just, viz. (1) according to law, (2) fair. 
 
 The injustice which we have already considered 
 corresponds to the first of these senses of unjust. 
 
 But since unfair or too much is not the same 9 
 as contrary to law, but stands for a part, while the 
 latter stands for the whole (I name " unfair " as well 
 as " too much," because although too much is always 
 unfair, what is unfair is not always too much), 
 
 * Before (1, 7) the two kinds qf injustice were called 
 i.e. strictly, " things that have nothing in common but the name ; " 
 here they are called ffwdavvfta, " different things bearing a common 
 name because they belong to the same genus," as a man and an ox 
 are both called animals : cf. Categ. I. 1. 
 
 t TO 6rbs ayaOd is the name which Aristotle most frequently 
 uses, sometimes TO OTTAWS ayuOd, as supra, 1, 9. 
 
2, 6-11.] JUSTICE. 143 
 
 * the corresponding senses of unjust and injustice 
 
 , will not be the same, but different from the former 
 senses, standing for a part, while the former stood 
 for the whole ; for this injustice is a part of complete 
 
 r injustice, and the corresponding justice is a part of 
 complete justice. We must therefore speak of justice 
 
 ' and injustice, and of that which is just and that 
 which is unjust, in this limited sense. 
 
 > "We may dismiss, then, the justice which coincides 
 with complete virtue and the corresponding injustice, 
 the former being the exercise of complete virtue 
 towards others, the latter of complete vice. 
 
 It is easy also to see how we are to define that 
 which is just and that which is unjust in iiieir corre- 
 sponding senses [according to law and contrary to 
 law]. The acts which manifest complete vir*tue 
 form, we may say, the great bulk of the acts which 
 are according to law ; for the law orders us to dis- 
 play all the virtues and none of the vices in our 
 lives. But the acts which tend to produce complete I 
 virtue are those of the acts according to law which 
 are prescribed with reference to the education of a 
 man as a citizen. 
 
 As for the education of the individual as such, 
 which tends to make him simply a good man, we 
 may reserve the question whether it belongs to the 
 soience of the state or not ; for it is possible that to 
 be a good man is not the same as to be a good citizen 
 of any state whatever.* 
 
 But of justice as a part of virtue, and of that 
 
 * The two characters coincide perfectly only in the perfect 
 state : cf. Pol. III. 4, 1276 b !6 f. 
 
NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. V. 
 
 which is just in the corresponding sense, one kind 
 is that which has to do with the distribution of 
 honour, wealth, and the other things that are divided, 
 among the members of the body politic (for in these 
 circumstances it is possible for one man's share to be 
 unfair or fair as compared with another's) ; and another , 
 kind is that which has to give redress in private 
 transactions. 
 
 The latter kind is again subdivided ; for private 10 
 transactions are (1) voluntary, (2) involuntary. 
 
 " Voluntary transactions or contracts " are such 
 as selling, buying, lending at interest, pledging, lend- 
 ing without interest, depositing, hiring : these are 
 called "voluntary contracts," because the parties enter 
 into them of their own will. 
 
 "Involuntary transactions," again, are of two 
 kinds : one involving secrecy, such as theft, adultery, 
 poisoning, procuring, corruption of slaves, assassina- 
 tion, false witness ; the other involving open violence, 
 such as assault, seizure of the person, murder, rape, 
 maiming, slander, contumely. 
 if what is 3. The unjust man [in this limited sense of the 1 
 
 ust in 
 
 mditf tion ' wor d]> we sav > i g un fair, and that which is unjust 
 uieofgeo- jg unfair. 
 
 letricaf' 
 
 roportion. Now, it is plain that there must be a mean which 
 lies between what is unfair on this side and on that. 
 And this is that which is fair or equal ; for any 2 / 
 act that admits of a too much and a too little admits 
 also of that which is fair. 
 
 If then that which is unjust be unfair, that which 3 
 is just will be fair, which indeed is admitted by all 
 without further proof. 
 
2, 12-3, 7.] JUSTJQE. 145 
 
 But since that which is fair or equal is a mean 
 between two extremes, it follows that what is just 
 will be a mean. 
 
 But equality or fairness implies two terms at \ 
 least.* \ 
 
 It follows, then, that that which is just is both 
 a mean quantity and also a fair amount relatively to 
 something else and to certain persons in other words, 
 that, on the one hand, as a mean quantity it implies 
 certain other quantities, i.e. a more and a less ; and, 
 on the other hand, as an equal or fair amount it 
 involves two quantities/I* and as a just amount it 
 involves certain persons. 
 
 That which is just, then, implies four terms at 
 least : two persons to whom justice is done, and two 
 things. 
 
 And there must be the same " equality " [i.e. the 
 same ratio] between the persons and the things : as 
 the things are to one another, so must the persons j 
 be. For if the persons be not equal, their shares will / 
 not be equal ; and this is the source of disputes and 
 accusations, when persons who are equal do not 
 receive equal shares, or when persons who are not 
 equal receive equal shares. 
 
 This is also plainly indicated by the common 
 phrase <l according to merit." For in distribution all 
 men allow that what is just must be according to 
 merit or worth of some kind, but they do not all adopt 
 the same standard of worth ; in democratic states 
 
 * If this amount be equal, it must be equal to something else ; 
 if my share is fair, I must be sharing with one other person at least. 
 f A's share and B's. 
 
 L 
 
146 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 they take free birth as the standard,* in oligarchic 
 states they take wealth, in others noble birth, and in 
 the true aristocratic state virtue or personal merit. 
 
 We see, then, that that which is just is in some sort 
 proportionate. For not abstract numbers only, but 
 all things that can be numbered, admit of proportion ; 
 proportion meaning equality of ratios, and requiring 
 four terms at least. 
 
 That discrete proportion f requires four terms is 
 evident at once. Continuous proportion also requires 
 four terms: for in it one term is employed as two 
 
 and is repeated; for instance, - = -. The term b 
 
 b c 
 
 then is repeated; and so, counting b twice over, we 
 find that the terms of the proportion are four in 
 number. 
 
 That which is just, then, requires that there be 
 four terms at least, and that the ratio between the 
 two pairs be the same, i.e. that the persons stand 
 to one another in the same ratio as the things. 
 
 a c . a b 
 
 Let us say, then, - = -, or alternando - = - 7 . 
 o a c a 
 
 The sums of these new pairs then will stand to 
 one another in the original ratio f i.e. . + J = ^ or ^1 
 
 But these are the pairs which the distribution 
 joins together ; \ and if the things be assigned in this 
 manner, the distribution is just. 
 
 * Counting all free men as equals entitled to equal shares. 
 
 t Assigning or joining certain quantities of goods (c and d) to 
 certain persons (a and W. 
 
3, 8-4, 1.] JUSTICE. 147 
 
 2 This joining, then, of a to c and of b to d is I 
 that which is just in distribution; and that which 
 is just in this sense is a mean between that 
 which violates the proportion on this side and on 
 that ; for that which is proportionate is a mean 
 quantity, and that which is just is, as we said, 
 proportionate. 
 
 3 This proportion is called by the mathematicians a 
 geometrical proportion ; for it is when four terms 
 are in geometrical proportion that the sum [of the 
 first and third] is to the sum [of the second and 
 fourth] in the original ratio [of the first to the second 
 or the third to the fourth]. 
 
 L4 But this proportion [as applied in justice] cannot 
 be a continuous proportion ; for one term cannot 
 represent both a person and a thing. 
 
 That which is just, then, in this sense is that 
 which is proportionate ; but that which is unjust 
 is that which is disproportionate. In the latter 
 case one quantity becomes more or too much, the 
 other less or too little. And this we see in practice ; 
 for he who wrongs another gets too much, and 
 he who is wronged gets too little of the good in 
 
 15 question: but of the evil conversely; for the lesser 
 evil stands in the place of good when compared 
 
 16 with the greater evil : for the lesser evil is more 
 desirable than the greater, but that which is desirable 
 is good, and that which is more desirable is a greater 
 good. 
 
 1 4. This then is one form of that which is just of that 
 [in the limited sense] ; the other form of it is that 
 which is just in the way of redress, the sphere of of arm- 
 
148 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 which is private transactions, whether voluntary or 
 involuntary. 
 
 This differs in kind from the former. 
 For that which is just in the distribution of a 2 
 common stock of good things is always in accordance 
 with the proportion above specified (even when it is a 
 common fund that has to be divided, the sums which 
 the several participants take must bear the same ratio 
 to one another as the sums they have put in), and that 
 which is unjust in the corresponding sense violates 
 this proportion. 
 
 But that which is just in private transactions * is 3 
 indeed fair or equal in some sort, and that which is 
 unjust is unfair or unequal ; but the proportion to be 
 observed here is not a geometrical proportion as 
 above, but an arithmetical one. 
 
 For it makes no difference whether a good man 
 defrauds a bad one, or a bad man a good one, nor 
 whether a man who commits an adultery be a good 
 or a bad man ; the law looks only to the difference 
 created by the injury, treating the parties themselves 
 .as equal, and only asking whether the one has done, 
 and the other suffered, injury or damage. 
 
 That which is unjust, then, is here something 4 
 unequal [or unfair] which the judge tries to make 
 equal [or fair]. For even when one party is struck 
 and the other strikes, or one kills and the other is 
 killed, that which is suffered and that which is done 
 
 * In the way of redress, as given by the law-courts : later on 
 (cap. 5) he gives as an after-thought the kind of justice which 
 ought to regulate buying and selling, etc. ; but the law only en- 
 forces these contracts and does not regulate them (4, 13). 
 
4, 2-7.] JUSTICE. 149 
 
 may be said to be unequally or unfairly divided ; the 
 judge then tries to restore equality by the penalty or 
 loss which he inflicts upon the offender, subtracting 
 it from his gain. 
 
 For in such cases, though the terms are not 
 always quite appropriate, we generally talk of the 
 doer's "gain" (e.g. the striker's) and the sufferer's 
 " loss ; " but when the suffering has been assessed 
 by the court, what the doer gets is called " loss " 
 or penalty, and what the sufferer gets is called 
 "gain." 
 
 Now, what is fair or equal is a mean between 
 more or too much and less or too little ; but gain and 
 loss are both more or too much and less or too little 
 in opposite ways, i.e. gain is more or too much good 
 and less or too little evil, and loss the opposite of 
 this. 
 
 And in the mean between them, as we found, 
 lies that which is equal or fair, which we say is 
 just. 
 
 That which is just in the way of redress, then, is 
 the mean between loss and gain. 
 
 l When disputes arise, therefore, men appeal to the 
 judge :* and an appeal to the judge is an appeal to 
 that which is just ; for the judge is intended to be 
 as it were a living embodiment of that which is 
 just; and men require of a judge that he shall be 
 moderate [or observe the mean], and sometimes even 
 call judges " mediators " (JUEO-C&OUC), signifying that 
 
 * The tiucaTTal at Athens combined tho functions of judge and 
 jury. 
 
150 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 if they get the mean they will get that which is 
 just. 
 
 That which is just, then, must be a sort of mean, 8 
 if the judge be a " mediator." 
 
 But the judge restores equality ; it is as if he 
 found a line divided into two unequal parts, and 
 were to cut off from the greater that by which it 
 exceeds the half, and to add this to the less. 
 
 But when the whole is equally divided, the parties 
 are said to have their own, each now receiving an 
 equal or fair amount. 
 
 But the equal or fair amount is here the arith- 9 
 metic mean between the more or too much and the 
 less or too little. And so it is called Siicaiov (just) 
 because there is equal division (&'x) 5 <^catov being 
 in fact equivalent to St'xatov, and Sucaori}? (judge) to 
 
 If you cut off a part from one of two equal lines 10 
 and add it to the other, the second is now greater 
 than the first by two such parts (for if you had only 
 cut off the part from the first without adding it to 
 the second, the second would have been greater by 
 only one such part) ; the second exceeds the mean by 
 one such part, and the mean also exceeds the first by 
 one. 
 
 Thus we can tell how much to take away from 11 
 him who has more or too much, and how much 
 to add to him who has less or too little : to the 
 latter's portion must be added that by which it falls 
 short of the mean, and from the former's portion 
 must be taken away that by which it exceeds the 
 mean. 
 
4, 8-13.] JUSTICE. 151 
 
 To illustrate this, let A A', BB', CO' be three 
 equal lines : 
 
 A E A' 
 
 D 
 
 B 
 
 i 
 
 B' 
 
 C 
 
 Z 
 
 C' 
 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 
 From A A' let AE be cut off; and let CD [equal to 
 AE] be added to C C'; then the whole D CO' exceeds 
 EA' by CD and CZ [equal to AE or CD], and 
 exceeds BB' by CD. 
 
 And this * holds good not only in geometry, but 
 in the arts also ; they could not exist unless that 
 which is worked upon received an impression corre- 
 sponding in kind and quantity and quality to the 
 exertions of the artist 
 
 3 These terms, "loss" and "gain," are borrowed from 
 voluntary exchange. For in voluntary exchange 
 having more than your own is called gaining, and 
 having less than you started with is called losing 
 (in buying and selling, I mean, and in the other trans- 
 
 * The point to be illustrated is, that in these private trans- 
 actions what one man gains is equal to what the other loses, so that 
 the penalty that will restore the balance can be exactly measured. 
 Of this principle (on which the possibility of justice does in fact 
 depend) Aristotle first gives a simple geometrical illustration, and 
 then says that the same law holds in all that man does : what is 
 Buffered by the patient (whether person, as in medicine, or thing, as in 
 sculpture or agriculture) is the same as what is done by the agent. 
 This paragraph occurs again in the next chapter (5, 9) : but ifc 
 can hardly have come into this place by accident; we rather see 
 the author's thought growing as he writes. I follow Trend elenburg 
 (who omits the passage here) in inserting '6 before tirotft, but not 
 in omitting rb before 
 
152 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 actions in which the law allows free play) ; but when 14 
 neither gets more or less, but both parties get, by free 
 exchange,* the very same amount with which they 
 started, then they allow that they have their own, and 
 are neither losers nor gainers. That which is just, 
 then, in these voluntary transactions f is a mean 
 between a gain and a loss, and consists in having after 
 the transaction an amount equal to that which you 
 had before it. 
 
 'impie re- 5. Some people, indeed, go so far as to think that l 
 U at identical simple requital is just. And so the Pythagoreans 
 l 8 - used to teach ; for their definition of what is just was 
 mply that what a man has done to another should 
 
 j ,. 
 
 e done to him. 
 
 But this simple requital does not correspond either 2 
 wney. we with that which is just in distribution or with that 
 
 an now give 
 
 general which is just in the way of redress (though this 3 
 certainly is what people mean to express in the 
 Rhadamanthine rule 
 
 " To suffer that which thou hast done is jnst ") ; 
 
 for in many cases it is quite different. For instance, 4 
 if an officer strike a man, he ought not to be struck 
 in return; and if a man strike an officer, he ought 
 not merely to be struck, but to be punished. 
 
 Further, it makes a great difference whether what 5 
 was done to the other was done with his consent or 
 against it. 
 
 * OUTC, almost = TO aura, " the very amount with which they 
 Started;" and Si' aitrSav = e/c TTJS e/cou<n'ou aAAeryTjs, by their own 
 will : neither party is defrauded secretly or openly, but each believes 
 that what he gives is worth precisely what he takes : the next 
 chapter gives the rule for determining this worth. 
 
 t For this use of irapd cf. I. 3, 7. 
 
4, 14-5, 8.] JUSTICE. 153 
 
 But it is true that, in the interchange of services, ft 
 this is the rule of justice that holds society together- U^ 
 viz. requital but proportionate requital, and not/ 
 simple repayment of equals for equals. For the very 
 existence of a state depends upon proportionate 
 return. If men have suffered evil, they seek to 
 return it; if not, if they cannot requite an injury, 
 we count their condition slavish. And again, if men 
 have received good, they seek to repay it : for other- 
 wise there is no exchange of services ; but it is by 
 this exchange that we are bound together in society. 
 
 This is the reason why we set up a temple of the 
 graces [charities, ^aptrec] in sight of all men, to re- 
 mind them to repay that which they receive; for 
 this is the special characteristic of charity or grace. 
 We ought to return the good offices of those who 
 have been gracious to us, and then again to take the 
 lead in good offices towards them. 
 
 But proportionate interchange is brought about 
 by " cross conjunction." 
 
 For instance, let A stand for a builder, B for a 
 shoemaker, C for a house, D for shoes.* 
 
 * We had before (3, 11, 12) as the rule of distributive justice 
 A C 
 p. = j^> an d the distribution was expressed by the "joining " (o-i$euis) 
 
 of the opposite or corresponding symbols, A and C, B and D. Here 
 we have the same two pairs of symbols, ranged opposite to each 
 other as before ; but the exchange will be expressed by joining A to 
 D and B to C, i.e. by "cross conjunction" or by drawing diagonal 
 lines (}} Kara SidfjLfrpoy avevis) thus : 
 
 A . .0 
 
 B . .D 
 
154 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 The builder then must take some of the shoemaker's 
 work, and give him his own work in exchange. 
 
 Now, the desired result will be brought about if 
 requital take place after proportionate equality has 
 first been established.* 
 
 If this be not done, there is no equality, and 
 intercourse becomes impossible ; for there is no reason 
 why the work of the one should not be worth more 
 than the work of the other. Their work, then, must 
 be brought to an equality [or appraised by a common 
 standard of value]. 
 
 This is no less true of the other arts and pro- 9 
 fessions [than of building and shoemaking] ; for they 
 could not exist if that which the patient [client or 
 consumer] receives did not correspond in quantity 
 and quality with that which the agent [artist or 
 producer] does or produces, t 
 
 * i.e. (as will presently appear), it mast first be determined 
 how much builder's work is equal to a given quantity of shoemaker's 
 work: i.e. the price of the two wares must first be settled; that 
 done, they simply exchange shilling's worth for shilling's worth 
 (aj/TtTreTTovflJ?) ; e.g. if a four-roomed cottage be valued at 100, and 
 a pair of boots at 1, the builder must supply such a cottage in 
 return for 100 such pairs of boots (or their equivalent) . 
 
 Fixing the price of the articles is called securing equality, 
 because, evidently, it means fixing how much of one article shall be 
 considered equal to a given quantity of the other. It is called 
 securing proportionate equality, because, as we shall see, the ques- 
 tion that has to be determined is, "in what ratio must work 
 be exchanged in order to preserve the due ratio between the 
 workers ? " 
 
 t Benefit to consumer = cost to producer; e.g. if 100 be a fair 
 price for a picture, it must fairly represent both the benefit to the 
 purchaser and the effort expended on it by the artist. I follow 
 Trendelenburg in inserting 8 before eVota, but not in omitting T& 
 before irdffxov. Cf. note on 4, 12. 
 
5, 9-11.] JUSTICE. 155 
 
 For it is not between two physicians that ex- 
 change of services takes place, but between a phy- 
 sician and a husbandman, and generally between 
 persons of different professions and of unequal worth ; 
 these unequal persons, then, have to be reduced to 
 equality [or measured by a common standard].* 
 
 All things or services, then, which are to be ex- 
 changed must be in some way reducible to a common 
 measure. 
 
 For this purpose money was invented, and serves 
 as a medium of exchange ; for by it we can measure 
 everything, and so can measure the superiority and 
 inferiority of different kinds of work the number 
 of shoes, for instance, that is equivalent to a house 
 or to a certain quantity of food. 
 
 What is needed then is that so many shoes shall 
 bear to a house (or a measure of corn) the same ratio 
 that a builder [or a husbandman] bears to a shoe- 
 maker.f For unless this adjustment be effected, no 
 dealing or exchange of services can take place ; and 
 it cannot be effected unless the things to be ex- 
 changed can be in some way made equal. 
 
 We want, therefore, some one common measure 
 of value, as we said before. 
 
 This measure is, in fact, the need for each other's 
 services which holds the members of a society 
 together; for if men had no needs, or no common 
 
 * The persons have to be appraised as well as their work ; but, 
 as we soon see, these are two sides of the same thing : the relative 
 value at which persons are estimated by society is indicated by the 
 relative value which society puts upon their services, and thia is 
 indicated by the price put upon a certain quantity of their work. 
 
 f See note on 12. 
 
156 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 needs, there would either be no exchange, or a dif- 
 ferent sort of exchange from that which we know. 
 
 But money has been introduced by convention as 
 a kind of substitute for need or demand ; and this is 
 why we call it vo/xt<r/*a, because its value is derived, 
 not from nature, but from law (vopos), and can be 
 altered or abolished at will. 
 
 Requital then will take place after the wares l 
 have been so equated [by the adjustment of prices] 
 that the quantity of shoemaker's work bears to the 
 quantity of husbandman's work [which exchanges for 
 it] the same ratio that husbandman bears to shoe- 
 maker.* But this adjustment must be made,f not at 
 the time of exchange (for then one of the two parties 
 would get both the advantages'!), but while they 
 are still in possession of their own wares ; if this be 
 
 * e.g. suppose the husbandman is twice as good a man as the 
 shoemaker, then, if the transaction is to follow the universal rule 
 of justice and leave their relative position unaltered, in exchange 
 for a certain quantity of husbandman's work the shoemaker must 
 give twice as much of his own. The price, that is, of corn and 
 shoes must be so adjusted that, if a quarter of corn sell for 50s. 
 and three pair of shoes sell for the same sum, the three pair of 
 shoes must represent twice as much labour as the quarter of corn. 
 Aristotle speaks loosely of the ratio between the shoes and the corn, 
 etc., but as their value is ex Jiypothesi the same, and as the relative 
 size, weight, and number of articles is quite accidental (e.g. we 
 might as well measure the corn by bushels or by pounds), the ratio 
 intended can only be the ratio between the quantities of labour. He 
 omits to tell us that these quantities must be measured by time, 
 but the omission is easily supplied. He omits also to tell us how 
 the relative worth of the persons is to be measured, but he has 
 already said all that is necessary in 3, 7. 
 
 f Lit. " they must be reduced to proportion," i.e., in strictness, 
 the four terms (two persons and two things). 
 
 $ i.e. have his superiority counted twice over. His (e.g. the hus- 
 bandman's) superiority over the other party (the shoemaker) has 
 
5, 12-14] JUSTICE. 157 
 
 done, they are put on an equal footing and can make 
 an exchange, because this kind of equality can be 
 established between them. 
 
 If A stand for a husbandman and C for a certain 
 quantity of his work (or corn), B will stand for a 
 shoemaker, and D for that quantity of shoemaker's 
 work that is valued as equal to C. 
 
 If they could not requite each other in this way, 
 interchange of services would be impossible. 
 
 That it is our need which forms, as it were, a 
 common bond to hold society together, is seen from the 
 fact that people do not exchange unless they are in 
 need of one another's se. -vices (each party of the 
 services of the other, or at least one party of the 
 service of the other), as when that which one has, 
 e.g. wine, is needed by other people who offer to 
 export corn in return. This article, then [the corn to 
 be exported], must be made equal [to the wine that is 
 imported].* 
 
 But even if we happen to want nothing at the 
 moment, money is a sort of guarantee that we shall be 
 able to make an exchange at any future time when we 
 happen to be in need ; for the man who brings money 
 must always be able to take goods in exchange. 
 
 been already taken into account in fixing the price of a quarter 
 of corn as equal to three pairs of shoes : this is one advantage 
 which is fairly his ; but it would be plainly unfair if, at the time 
 of exchange, the husbandman were to demand 50s. worth of shoes 
 for 25s. worth of corn, on the ground that he was twice as good a 
 man : cf. Munro, Journal of Classical and Sacred Philology, vol. ii. 
 In the text I have followed Trendelenburg's stopping, throwing 
 the words et Se ^ . . . &Kpov into a parenthesis. 
 
 * i.e. each must be valued in money, so that so many quarters of 
 corn shall exchange for so many hogsheads of wine. 
 
158 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 Money is, indeed, subject to the same conditions 
 as other things : its value is not always the same ; 
 but still it tends to be more constant than the value 
 of anything else. 
 
 Everything, then, must be assessed in money ; for 
 this enables men always to exchange their services, 
 and so makes society possible. 
 
 Money, then, as a standard, serves to reduce things 
 to a common measure, so that equal amounts of each 
 may be taken ; for there would be no society if there 
 were no exchange, and no exchange if there were no 
 equality, and no equality if it were not possible to 
 reduce things to a common measure. 
 
 In strictness, indeed, it is impossible to find any 
 common measure for things so extremely diverse; 
 but our needs give a standard which is sufficiently 
 accurate for practical purposes. 
 
 There must, then, be some one common symbol for 
 this, and that a conventional symbol; so we call it 
 money (vopurpa, vo/xoe). Money makes all things 
 commensurable, for all things are valued in money. 
 For instance, let A stand for a house, B for ten minse, 
 
 T> 
 
 C for a bed ; and let A = , taking a house to be 
 
 B 
 
 worth or equal to five minse, and let C (the bed) = -^ 
 
 We see at once, then, how many beds are equal to 
 one house, viz. five. 
 
 It is evident that, before money came into use, 
 all exchange must have been of this kind : it makes 
 no difference whether you give five beds for a house, 
 or the value of five beds. 
 
 Thus we have described that which is unjust and 
 
5, 15-18.] JUSTICE. 159 
 
 that which is just. And now that these are deter- 
 mined, we can see that doing justice is a mean 
 between doing and suffering injustice; for the one r 
 is having too much, or more, and the other too little, I 
 or less than one's due. 
 
 We see also that the virtue justice is moderation 
 [or a mode of observing the mean], but not quite in 
 the same way as the virtues hitherto spoken of. It ' 
 does indeed observe a mean, but both the extremes 
 fall under the single vice injustice.* 
 
 We see also that justice is that habit in respect 
 of which the just man is said to be apt to do 
 deliberately that which is just; that is to say, in , 
 dealings between himself and another (or between \ 
 two other parties), to apportion things, not so that he 
 shall get more or too much, and his neighbour less or 
 18 too little, of what is desirable, and conversely with 
 what is disadvantageous, but so that each shall get 
 his fair, that is, his proportionate share, and similarly 
 in dealings between two other parties. 
 
 And from this we may get the definition oi* 
 injustice, if for "that which is just" we substitute 
 "that which is unjust," which is a disproportionate 
 amount, that is, too much and too little of what is 
 advantageous and disadvantageous respectively. 
 
 * The mean which justice aims at (the just thing, the due share 
 of goods) lies between two extremes, too much and too little ; so 
 far justice is analogous to the other virtues : but whereas in 
 other fields these two extremes are chosen by different and opposite 
 characters (e.g. the cowardly and the foolhardy), the unjust man 
 chooses both, too much good for himself and too little for his neigh -4 
 bour, too little evil for himself and too much for his neighbour. 
 To get too little good is to suffer injustice, but the habitual choice 
 of it is regarded as an impossibility. 
 
160 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 Thus injustice, as we say, is both an excess and 
 a deficiency, in that it chooses both an excess and a 
 deficiency in one's own affairs choosing excess of 
 what is, as a general rule, _ intageous, and de- 
 ficiency of what is disadvantageous ; in the affairs of 
 others making a similarly disproportionate assign- 
 ment, though in which way the proportion is violated 
 will depend upon circumstances. 
 
 But of the two sides of the act of injustice, suffer- 
 ing is a lesser wrong than doing the injustice. 
 
 Let this, then, be accepted as our account, in 19 
 general terms, of the nature of justice and injustice 
 respectively, and of that which is just and that which 
 is unjust. 
 
 one can act 6. -But since it is possible for a man to do an act 1 
 f injustice without yet being unjust, what acts of 
 injustice are there, such that the doing of them 
 stamps a man at once as unjust in this or that parti- 
 cular way, e.g. as a thief, or an adulterer, or a 
 robber! " 
 
 Perhaps we ought to reply that there is no such 
 difference in the acts.* A man might commit 
 adultery, knowing what he was about, and yet be 
 acting not from a deliberate purpose at all, but from 
 a momentary passion. In such a case, then, a man 2 
 acts unjustly, but is not unjust; e.g. is not a +Mef 
 though he commits a theft, and :u -t an adulterer 
 though he commits adultery, and so on.f 
 
 * It is in the state of mind of the doer that the difference lies, 
 not in the particular things done : ef. infra, cap. 8. 
 
 f This passage, cap. 6, 1, 2, seems to have quite a natural 
 connection with what goes before, though the discussion is not carried 
 on here, but in cap. 8. Again, the discussion which begins with 
 
5, 19-6, 4.] JUSTICE. 161 
 
 We have already explained the relation which 
 requital bears to that which is just. But we must 
 not fail to notice that what we are seeking is at 
 once that which : ,-t simply [or without any 
 qualifying epithet], and that which is just in a state 
 or between citizens.* Now, this implies men who 
 associate together in order to supply their deficiencies, 
 being free men, and upon a footing of equality, either 
 absolute or proportionate. 
 
 Between those who are not upon this footing, 
 then, we cannot speak of that which is just as be- 
 tween citizens (though there is something that can be 
 called just metaphorically). For the term just can- 
 iiot be properly applied, except where men have a 
 law to appeal to,t and the existence of law implies 
 the existence of injustice; for the administration of 
 the law is the discrimination of what is just from 
 what is unjust. 
 
 But injustice implies an act of injustice (though 
 an act of injustice does not always imply injustice) 
 which is taking too much of the goods and too little 
 
 the words irws fj.ft> olv, cap. 6, 3, though it has no connection with 
 2, comes naturally enough after the end of cap. 5, rb air\S>s 
 5i/catov corresponding to rov SiKalov Kal aSi/cou Ka06\ov. We have, 
 then, two discussions, both growing out of and attached to the 
 discussion which closes with the end of cap. 5, but not connected 
 with each other. If the author had revised the work, he would, no 
 doubt, Aiave fitted thf -links together ; but as he omitted to do so, 
 it is useless for u; attempt, by any rearrangement of the links, to 
 secure the close connection which could only be effected by forging 
 them anew. 
 
 * These are not two distinct kinds of justice ; justice proper, he 
 means to say, implies a state. ^ 
 
 t Only the citizen in an ancient state could appeal to the law in 
 his own person ; the non-citizen could only sue through a citizen. 
 
 M 
 
162 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 of the evils of life. And so we do not allow an indi- 5 
 vidual to rule over us, but make written laws; for 
 an individual is apt thus to take more for himself, 
 and to become a tyrant. 
 
 The magistrate's function, then, is to secure that 
 which is just, and if that which is just, then that 
 which is equal or fair. But it seems that he gets no 6 
 advantage from his office, if he is just ; for he does 
 not take a larger share of the good things of life, 
 except when that larger share is proportionate to hia 
 worth. He works, therefore, in the interests of others 
 (which is the reason why justice is sometimes called 
 "another's good," as we remarked before).* Some 7 
 salary, therefore, must be given him, and this he 
 receives in the shape of honours and privileges ; and 
 it is when magistrates are not content with these 
 that they make themselves tyraots. 
 
 That which is just as between master and slave, 8 
 or between father and child, is not the same as this, 
 though like. We cannot speak (without qualification) 
 of injustice towards what is part of one's self and a 
 man's chattels and his children (so long as they are of 
 a certain age and not yet separated from their parent) 
 are as it were a part of him for no one deliberately 
 chooses to injure himself; so that a man cannot be 9 
 unjust towards himself. 
 
 We cannot speak in this case, then, of that which 
 is unjust, or of that which is just as between citizens; 
 for that, we found, is according to law, and subsists 
 between those whose situation implies law, i.e., as we 
 found, those who participate equally or fairly in 
 governing and being governed. 
 * fiitpra, 1, 17. 
 
6, 5-7, 4.] JUSTICE. 163 
 
 The term just, therefore, is more appropriate to 
 a man's relations to his wife than to his relations to 
 his children and his chattels, and we do speak in 
 this sense of that which is just in a family ; but even 
 this is not the same as that which is just between 
 citizens.* 
 
 7. Now, of that which is just as between citizens, it is in par 
 part is natural, part is conventional. That is natural part cm- 
 which has the same validity everywhere, and does 
 not depend on our accepting or rejecting it ; that is 
 conventional which at the outset may be determined 
 in this way or in that indifferently, but which when 
 once determined is no longer indifferent ; e.g. that a 
 man's ransom be a mina, or that a sacrifice consist 
 of a goat and not of two sheep ; and, again, those 
 ordinances which are made for special occasions, such 
 as the sacrifice to Brasidas [at Amphipolis], and all 
 ordinances that are of the nature of a decree. 
 
 Now, there are people who think that what is just 
 is always conventional, because that which is natural 
 is invariable, and has the same validity everywhere, 
 as fire burns here and in Persia, while that which is 
 just is seen to be not invariable. 
 
 But this is not altogether true, though it is true in 
 a way. Among the gods, indeed, we may venture to 
 say it is not true at all ; but of that which is just 
 among us part is natural, though all is subject to 
 change. Though all is subject to change, nevertheless, 
 I repeat, part is natural and part not. 
 
 Nor is it hard to distinguish, among things that 
 may be other than they are, that which is natural 
 
 * Which alone is properly just. 
 
164 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLB. [BK. V. 
 
 from that which is not natural but dependent on law 
 or convention, though both are alike variable. In 
 other fields we can draw the same distinction ; we 
 say, for instance, that the right hand is naturally the 
 stronger, though in some * men the left may become 
 equally strong. 
 
 And so, of that which is just, that part which is 5 
 conventional and prescribed with a view to a par- 
 ticular endf varies as measures vary; for the measures 
 of wine and of corn are not everywhere the same, but 
 larger where the dealers buy, and smaller where they 
 sell. So I say that which is just not by nature but 
 merely by human ordinance is not the same every- 
 where, any more than constitutions are everywhere 
 the same, though there is but one constitution that is 
 naturally the best everywhere. 
 
 The terms "just" and "lawful" in each of their 6 
 several senses stand for universal notions which em- 
 brace a number of particulars ; i.e. the acts are many, 
 but the notion is one, for it is applied to all alike. 
 
 " That which is unjust," we must notice, is different 7 
 from " an act of injustice," and " that which is just " 
 from " an act of justice : " for a thing is unjust either - 
 by nature or by ordinance ; but this same thing when 
 done is called " an act of injustice," though before it 
 was done it could only be called unjust. And so with 
 " an act of justice " (SiKaiufjia) ; though in the latter 
 
 * Or " in any man," if we read -navras, which is found according 
 to Jackson in all of the manuscripts. 
 
 t rb &/*(() pov, which is usually rendered " expedient," means 
 simply that which conduces to any desired end ; as the end varies, 
 then, so will the expedient vary : cf. III. 1, 15, note. 
 
The interru 
 conditions 
 a just or 
 unjust 
 action, anc 
 
 7, 5-8, 3.] JUSTICE. 165 
 
 case we rather employ SiKaioTrpayruma as the gen- 
 eric term, and restrict &Ktuwjua to the correction of 
 an act of injustice. But as to the several species of 
 acts of justice and injustice, we must postpone for the 
 present the inquiry into their nature and number and 
 the ground which they cover. 
 
 1 8. Now that we have ascertained what is just anc 
 what is unjust, we may say that a man acts unjustly 
 or justly when he does these things voluntarily; bul 
 when he does them involuntarily, he does not, strictly 
 speaking, act either unjustly or justly, but only 
 " accidentally," i.e. he does a thing which happens to 
 
 2 be just or unjust.* For whether an act is or is not 
 to be called an act of injustice (or of justice) depends 
 upon whether it is voluntary or involuntary ; for if it 
 be voluntary the agent is blamed, and at the same 
 time the act becomes an act of injustice : so something 
 unjust may be done, and yet it may not be an act of 
 injustice, i.e. if this condition of voluntariness be absent. 
 
 3 By a voluntary act I mean, as I explained before, 
 anything which, being within the doer's control, is 
 done knowingly (i.e. with knowledge of the person, 
 the instrument, and the result ; e.g. the person whom 
 and the instrument with which he is striking, and the 
 effect of the blow), without the intervention at any 
 point of accident or constraint; e.g. if another take 
 your hand and with it strike a third person, that is 
 not a voluntary act of yours, for it was not within 
 your control ; again, the man you strike may be your 
 father, and you may know that it is a man, or perhaps 
 that it is one of the company, that you are striking 
 
 * Of. 4. 
 
166 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 but not know that it is your father ; and it must be 
 understood that the same distinction is to be made 
 with regard to the result, and, in a word, to the whole 
 act. That then which either is done in ignorance, or, 
 though not done in ignorance, is not under our control, 
 or is done under compulsion, is involuntary ; besides 
 which, there are many natural processes in which we 
 knowingly take an active or a passive part, which 
 cannot be called either voluntary or involuntary, such 
 as growing old and dying. 
 
 An accidentally unjust act and an accidentally just 4 
 act are equally possible ; e.g. a man might restore a 
 deposit against his will for fear of consequences, and 
 then you could not say that he did what was just or 
 acted justly except accidentally : * and, similarly, a 
 man who against his will was forcibly prevented from 
 restoring a deposit would be said only accidentally 
 to act unjustly or to do that which is unjust. 
 
 Voluntary acts, again, are divided into (1) those 5 
 that are done of set purpose, and (2) those that are 
 done without set purpose ; i.e. (1) those that are done 
 after previous deliberation, and (2) those that are done 
 without previous deliberation. 
 
 Now, there are three ways in which we may hurt r> 
 our neighbour. Firstly, a Jiurt done in ignorance is 
 generally called a mistake when there is a misconcep- 
 tion as to the person affected, or the thing done, or the 
 instrument, or the result ; e.g. I may not think to hit, 
 
 * i.e. he willed the act not as just, bnt as a means of avoiding 
 the painful consequences ; the justice of it, therefore, was not part of 
 the essence of the act to him, was not among the qualities of the act 
 which moved him to choose it, or, in Aristotle's language, was 
 "accidental." 
 
8, 4-9.] JUSTICE 167 
 
 or not to hit with this instrument, or not to hit this 
 person, or not to produce this effect, but an effect 
 follows other than that which was present to my 
 mind ; I may mean to inflict a prick, not a wound, or 
 not to wound the person whom I wound, or not to 
 deal a wound of this kind. 
 
 But [if we draw the distinction more accurately] 
 when the hurt comes about contrary to what might 
 reasonably be expected, it may be called a mishap : 
 but when, though it is not contrary to what might 
 reasonably be expected, there is still no vicious inten- 
 tion, it is a mistake ; for a man makes a mistake 
 when he sets the train of events in motion,* but he is 
 unfortunate when an external agency interferes.! 
 
 Secondly, when the agent acts with knowledge 
 but without previous deliberation, it is an act of 
 injustice ; e.g. when he is impelled by anger or any 
 of the other passions to which man is necessarily or 
 naturally subject. In doing such hurt and committing 
 such errors, the doer acts unjustly and the acts are 
 acts of injustice, though they are not such as to stamp 
 him as unjust or wicked; for the hurt is not done out 
 of wickedness. 
 
 But, thirdly, when it is done of set purpose, the 
 doer is unjust and wicked. 
 
 On this account acts done in anger are rightly 
 held not to be done of malice aforethought; for he who 
 gave the provocation began it, not he who did the 
 deed in a passion. 
 
 * which leads by a natural, though by him unforeseen, sequence 
 to his neighbour's hurt : negligence, or error of judgment. 
 
 t and gives a fatal termination to an act that would ordinarily 
 be harmless : accident. 
 
168 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 Again, in such cases as this last, what men dispute 10 
 about is usually not whether the deed was done or 
 not, but what the justice of the case is ; for it is an 
 apparent injustice that stirs the assailant's wrath. 
 There is a difference between cases of this kind and 
 disputes about contracts : in the latter the question 
 is a question of fact, and one or other of the parties 
 must be a vicious character, unless his memory be at 
 fault; but in these cases they agree about the facts, 
 but differ as to which side is in the right, so that the 
 assailant (differing herein from the deliberate aggressor, 
 who knows very well the rights of the case) thinks 
 that he is wronged, while the other thinks differently.* 
 
 But if a man hurt another of set purpose, he acts 11 
 unjustly, and acts of injustice (i.e. violations of what 
 is proportionate and fair), when so done, stamp the 
 doer as an unjust character. 
 
 In like manner a man is a just character when he 
 of set purpose acts justly ; but he is said to act justly 
 if he merely do voluntarily that which is just. 
 
 Of involuntary injuries, on the other hand, some 12 
 are pardonable, some unpardonable. Errors that 
 are committed not merely in ignorance but by reason 
 of ignorance are pardonable ; but those that are 
 committed not through ignorance but rather in 
 ignorance, through some unnatural or inhuman pas- 
 sion, are not pardonable.f 
 
 * Throwing the words 6 5' einj8oy\ei5<ray OVK ayi/oe? into a paren- 
 thesis, after Zell. Bekker's stopping gives a sense which does not 
 seem to fit the context. 
 
 t In strictness, of course, such acts cannot be called involun- 
 tary (aKovffid) at all : cf. supra, III. 1, where the conditions of an 
 involuntary act are stated more precisely. 
 
8, 10-9, 3.] JUSTICE. 169 
 
 9, But it may be doubted whether we have suffi- 
 ciently explained what it is to suffer and to do 
 injustice. First of all, are these terms applicable to 
 such a case as that which is described in those strange 
 verses of Euripides ? 
 
 " I slew my mother brief shall be my tale 
 Both willed it ; she at least willed, if not I." 
 
 Is it really possible, I mean, to suffer injustice [or be 
 wronged] voluntarily ? or is suffering injustice always 
 involuntary, as doing injustice is always voluntary ? 
 
 Again, is suffering injustice always one way or 
 the other (as doing injustice is always voluntary), or 
 is it sometimes voluntary and sometimes involuntary? 
 
 Similarly with regard to having justice done to 
 you: doing justice is always voluntary [as doing 
 injustice is], so that one might expect that there is 
 the same relation in both cases between the active 
 and the passive, and that suffering injustice and 
 having justice done to you are either both voluntary 
 or both involuntary. But it would surely be absurd 
 to maintain, even with regard to having justice done 
 to you, that it is always voluntary; for some that 
 have justice done to them certainly do not will it. 
 
 So we may raise the question in this [more general] 
 form : Can a man who has that which is unjust done 
 to him always be said to suffer injustice [or be 
 wronged] ? or are there further conditions necessary 
 for suffering as there are for doing injustice ? 
 
 Both what I do and what I suffer may be (as we 
 saw) " accidentally " just ; and so also it may be 
 "accidentally" unjust: for doing that which is un- 
 just is not identical with doing injustice, nor is 
 
170 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 suffering that which is unjust the same as suffering 
 injustice; and similarly with doing justice and having 
 justice done to you. For to have injustice done to 
 you implies some one that does injustice, and to 
 have justice done to you implies some one that does 
 justice. 
 
 But if to do injustice means simply to hurt a man 4 
 voluntarily, and voluntarily means with knowledge 
 of the person, the instrument, the manner, etc., then 
 the incontinent man, who voluntarily hurts him- 
 self, will voluntarily suffer injustice, and it will be 
 possible for a man to do injustice to himself the 
 possibility of which last is also one of the questions 
 in dispute. 
 
 Again, a man might, through incontinence, volun- 5 
 tarily suffer himself to be hurt by another also acting 
 voluntarily; so that in this case also a man might 
 voluntarily suffer injustice. 
 
 I think rather that the above definition is in- 
 correct, and that to "hurting with knowledge of the 
 person, the instrument, and the manner," we must 
 add " against his will." * If we define it so, then a ( 
 man may voluntarily be hurt and suffer that which 
 is unjust, but cannot voluntarily have injustice done 
 to him. (For no one wishes to be hurt, even the 
 incontinent man does not wish it, but acts contrary 
 to his wish. No one wishes for anything that he 
 does not think good ; what the incontinent man does 
 
 * ftov\-r]ffiv is used loosely for will, as there is no abstract term 
 corresponding to CKC/OV. Hence the well-known difficulty in 6, to 
 be solved I think (even after reading Jackson's ingenious explana- 
 tion) by disregarding the words which I have bracketed. 
 
9, 4-10.] JUSTICE. 171 
 
 7 is not that which he thinks he ought to do.) But he 
 that gives, as Glaucus gives to Diomede in Homer 
 
 " Gold for his bronze, fivescore kine's worth for nine," 
 
 does not suffer injustice ; for the giving rests with 
 him, but suffering injustice does not rest with one's 
 self; there must be some one to do injustice. 
 
 8 It is plain, then, that suffering injustice cannot be 
 voluntary. 
 
 There are still two questions that we purposed to 
 discuss: (1) Is it the man who assigns or the man 
 who receives a disproportionately large share that 
 does injustice ? (2) Is it possible to do injustice to 
 yourself ? 
 
 9 In the former case, i.e. if he who assigns and not 
 he who receives the undue share does injustice, then 
 if a man knowingly and voluntarily gives too much 
 to another and too little to himself, he does injustice 
 to himself. And this is what moderate persons are 
 often thought to do ; for the equitable man is apt to 
 take less than his due. But the case is hardly so 
 simple : it may be that he took a larger share of 
 some other good, e.g. of good fame or of that which is 
 intrinsically noble. 
 
 Again, the difficulty may be got over by reference 
 to our definition of doing injustice; for in this case 
 nothing is done to the man against his wish, so that 
 no injustice is done him, but at most only harm. 
 ) It is plain, moreover, that the man who makes 
 the unjust award does injustice, but not always he 
 who gets more than his share ; for a man does not 
 always do injustice when we can say of what he 
 
172 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 does that it is unjust, but only when we can say 
 that he voluntarily does that which is unjust; and 
 that we can only say of the prime mover in the 
 action, which in this case is the distributor and not 
 the receiver. 
 
 Again, there are many senses of the word " do," 11 
 and in a certain sense an inanimate instrument, or my 
 hand, or again my slave under my orders, may be said 
 to slay ; but though these may be said to do what is 
 unjust, they cannot be said to act unjustly or to do an 
 act of injustice. 
 
 Again, if a man unwittingly gives unjust judg- 12 
 ment, he does not commit injustice in the sense of 
 contravening that which is just according to law, 
 nor is his judgment unjust in this sense, but in a 
 certain sense it is unjust ; for there is a difference 
 between that which is just according to law and that 
 which is just in the primary sense of the word : but 
 if he knowingly gives unjust judgment, he is himself 
 grasping at more than his share, in the shape either 
 of favour with one party or vengeance on the 
 other. The judge, then, who gives unjust judgment 13 
 on these grounds, takes more than his due, quite as 
 much as if he received a share of the unjust award ; 
 for even in the latter case a judge who awards a piece 
 of land would receive, not land, but money. 
 
 Men fancy that as it is in their power to act 14 
 unjustly, so it is an easy matter to be just. But it is 
 not so. To lie with your neighbour's wife, or to strike 
 your neighbour, or to pass certain coins from your 
 hand to his is easy enough, and always within your 
 power, but to do these acts as the outcome of a certain 
 
9, 11-16.] JUSTICE. 173 
 
 character is not an easy matter, nor one which is 
 always within your power.* 
 
 15 Similarly men think that to know what is just 
 and what is unjust needs no great wisdom, since any 
 one can inform himself in those matters about which the 
 law prescribes. But what is just is not given (unless 
 it be accidentally) by the mere rules of law, but by 
 the application of uhese in a particular manner to our 
 actions and the distribution of goods. And to know 
 this application is a harder matter than to know 
 what conduces to health; though that is no easy 
 matter. It is easy enough to know the meaning of 
 honey, and wine, and hellebore, and cautery, and the 
 knife, but to know how, and to whom, and when they 
 must be applied in order to produce health, is so far 
 from being easy, that to have this knowledge is to be 
 a physician. 
 
 16 For the same reason, some people think that the 
 just man is as able to act unjustly as justly, for he 
 is not less but rather more capable than another of 
 performing the several acts, e.g. of lying with a 
 woman or of striking a blow, as the courageous man 
 is rather more capable than another of throwing away 
 his shield and turning his back and running away 
 anywhere. But to play the coward or to act unjustly 
 means not merely to do such an act (though the 
 
 * You can always do the acts if you want to do them, i.e. if you 
 will them ; but you cannot at will do them in the spirit of a just 
 man or as the outcome of a just character; for character is the -f 
 result of a series of acts of will : cf. supra, III. 5, 22. The contra- 
 diction between this and III. 5, 2, is only apparent : we are respon- 
 sible for our character, though we cannot change it at a moment's 
 notice. 
 
174 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BE, V 
 
 doer might be said "accidentally" to act unjustly),* 
 but to do it in a certain frame of mind; just as to act 
 the part of a doctor and to heal does not mean simply 
 to apply the knife or not to apply it, to give or to 
 withhold a drug, but to do this in a particular fashion. 
 
 Justice, lastly, implies persons who participate in i^ 
 those things that, generally speaking, are good, but who 
 can have too much or too little of them. For some 
 for the gods perhaps no amount of them is too much ; 
 and for others for the incurably vicious no amount 
 is beneficial, they are always hurtful ; but for the rest 
 of mankind they are useful within certain limits : 
 justice, therefore, is essentially human. 
 
 10. We have next to speak of equity and of that l 
 which is equitable, and to inquire how equity is 
 related to justice, and that which is equitable to that 
 which is just. For, on consideration, they do not 
 seem to be absolutely identical, nor yet generically 
 different. At one time we praise that which is 
 equitable and the equitable man, and even use the 
 word metaphorically as a term of praise synonymous 
 with good, showing that we consider that the more 
 equitable a thing is the better it is. At another 
 time we reflect and find it strange that what is 
 equitable should be praiseworthy, if it be different 
 from what is just ; for, we argue, if it be something 
 else, either what is just is not good, or what is equit- 
 able is not good ; f if both be good, they are the same. 
 
 * Of. supra, 8, 1-4. 
 
 t Ov Sixatov I have omitted (after Trendelenburg) as obviously 
 wrong. We may suppose either that the original ov a-jrovSalov was 
 altered into ov SIKCUOV, or (more probably) that oy oSfccuov or 
 was inserted by a bungling copyist. 
 
9, 17-10, 5.] JUSTICE. 175 
 
 2 These are the reflections which give rise to the 
 
 difficulty about what is equitable. Now, in a way, 
 
 they are all correct and not incompatible with one 
 
 another ; for that which is equitable, though it is 
 
 better than that which is just (in one sense of the 
 
 word), is yet itself just, and is not better than what 
 
 is just in the sense of being something generically 
 
 distinct from it. What is just, then, and what is 
 
 equitable are generically the same, and both are good, 
 
 though what is equitable is better. 
 
 * But what obscures the matter is that though 
 
 what is equitable is just, it is not identical with, but 
 
 a correction of, that which is just according to law. 
 
 t The reason of this is that every law is laid down 
 
 in general terms, while there are matters about which 
 
 it is impossible to speak correctly in general terms. 
 
 Where, then, it is necessary to speak in general terms, 
 
 but impossible to do so correctly, the legislator lays 
 
 down that which holds good for the majority of 
 
 cases, being quite aware that it does not hold good 
 
 for aU. 
 
 The law, indeed, is none the less correctly laid 
 down because of this defect; for the defect lies not 
 in the law, nor in the lawgiver, but in the nature of 
 the subject-matter, being necessarily involved in the 
 very conditions of human action. 
 
 When, therefore, the law lays down a general rule, 
 but a particular case occurs which is an exception to 
 this rule, it is right, where the legislator fails and is 
 in error through speaking without qualification, to 
 make good this deficiency, just as the lawgiver him- 
 self would do if he were present, and as he would 
 
176 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. V. 
 
 have provided in the law itself if the case had occurred 
 to him. 
 
 What is equitable, then, is just, and better than 
 what is just in one sense of the word not better 
 than what is absolutely just, but better than that 
 which fails through its lack of qualification. And the 
 essence of what is equitable is that it is an amend- 
 ment of the law, in those points where it fails through 
 the generality of its language. 
 
 The reason why the law does not cover all cases 
 is that there are matters about which it is impossible 
 to lay down a law, so that they require a special 
 decree. For that which is variable needs a variable 
 rule, like the leaden rule employed in the Lesbian style 
 of masonry ; as the leaden rule has no fixed shape, but 
 adapts itself to the outline of each stone, so is the 
 decree adapted to the occasion. 
 
 We have ascertained, then, what the equitable 
 course is, and have found that it is just, and also 
 better than what is just in a certain sense of the 
 word. And after this it is easy to see what the 
 equitable man is: he who is apt to choose such a 
 course and to follow it, who does not insist on his 
 rights to the damage of others, but is ready to take 
 less than his due, even when he has the law to back 
 him, is called an equitable man; and this type of 
 character is called equitableness, being a sort of justice, 
 and not a different kind of character. 
 
 ^' The foregoing discussion enables us to answer 1 
 fa Q q ues ^ on w h e thei* it be possible or not for a man 
 to act unjustly to himself. 
 
 That which is just in one sense of the word we 
 
10,6-11,4] JUSTICE. 177 
 
 fouad to be those manifestations of the several virtues 
 which the law prescribes : e.g. the law does not order 
 a man to kill himself; and what the law does not 
 
 2 order it forbids : and, further, when a man, contrary 
 to the law, voluntarily inflicts hurt without provoca- 
 tion, he acts unjustly (voluntarily meaning with know- 
 ledge of the person and the instrument). Now, the 
 man who kills himself in a rage voluntarily acts thus 
 against right reason and does what the law forbids : 
 he acts unjustly therefore. 
 
 3 But unjustly to whom ? To the state surely, not 
 to himself ; for he suffers voluntarily, but no one can 
 have an injustice done him voluntarily. And upon 
 this ground the state actually punishes him, i.e. it pro- 
 nounces a particular kind of disfranchisement upon 
 the man who destroys himself, as one who acts unjustly 
 towards the state. 
 
 4 Again, if we take the word unjust in the other 
 sense, in which it is used to designate not general 
 badness, but a particular species of vice, we find that 
 in this sense also it is impossible to act unjustly to 
 one's self. (This, we found, is different from the former 
 sense of the word : the unjust man in this second sense 
 is bad in the same way as the coward is bad, i.e. as 
 having a particular form of vice, not as having a 
 completely vicious character, nor do we mean to say 
 that he displays a completely vicious character when 
 we say that he acts unjustly). For if it were possible, 
 it would be possible for the same thing at the same 
 time to be taken from and added to the same person. 
 But this is impossible ; and, in fact, a just deed or an 
 unjust deed always implies more persons than one. 
 
 N 
 
I 
 
 178 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARIST01 LE [BK. V. 
 
 Further, an act of injustice, besides being \ : ntary, 5 
 if not deliberate, must be prior to hurt received (for 
 he who, having received some hurt, repays the same 
 that he received is not held to act unjustly) ; but he 
 who hurts himself suffers that very hurt at the same 
 time that he inflicts it. 
 
 Again, if it were possible for a man to act unjustly 6 
 to himself, it would be possible to suffer injustice 
 voluntarily. 
 
 Further, a man cannot act unjustly without doing 
 an act of injustice of some particular kind ; but no 
 one commits adultery with his own wife, or burglari- 
 ously breaks through his own walls, or steals his 
 own property. 
 
 But the whole question about acting unjustly to 
 one's self is settled (without going into detail) by the 
 answer we gave * to the question whether a man could 
 voluntarily suffer injustice. 
 
 (It is plain that to suffer and to do injustice are 7 
 both bad, for the one is to get less and the other more 
 than the mean amount, which corresponds to what is 
 healthy in medicine, or to what promotes good con- 
 dition in gymnastics : but, though both are bad, to do 
 injustice is the worse; for to do injustice is blamable 
 and implies vice (either completely formed vice, what 
 we call vice simply, or else that which is on the way 
 to become vice ; for a voluntary act of injustice does 
 not always imply injustice), but to have injustice done 
 to you is no token of a vicious and unjust character. 
 
 In itself, then, to be unjustly treated is less bad, 8 
 but there is nothing to prevent its being accidentally 
 
 * Supra, cap. 9. 
 
11, 5-9.1 4 JUSTICE. 179 
 
 " 
 
 the grflfe^r evil. Science, however, does not concern 
 itself with these accidents, but calls a pleurisy a 
 greater malady than a stumble; and yet the latter 
 might, on occasion, accidentally become the greater, 
 as, for instance, if a stumble were to cause you to fall 
 and be caught by the enemy and slain.) 
 
 Though we cannot apply the term just to a man's 
 behaviour towards himself, yet we can apply it meta- 
 phorically and in virtue of a certain resemblance to 
 the relations between certain parts of a man's self- 
 not, however, in all senses of the word just, but in that 
 sense in which it is applied to the relations of master 
 and slave, or husband and wife ; for this is the sort 
 of relation that exists between the rational and the 
 irrational parts of the soul. 
 
 And it is this distinction of parts that leads people 
 to fancy that there is such a thing as injustice 
 to one's self : one part of a man can have something 
 done to it by another part contrary to its desires ; 
 and so they think that the term just can be applied 
 to the relations of these parts to one another, just as 
 to the relations of ruler and ruled.* 
 
 We may now consider that we have concluded our 
 examination of justice and the other moral virtues. 
 
 * Whereas, says Aristotle, we cannot speak at all of justice or 
 injustice to one's self, and it is only by way of metaphor that we 
 can apply the terms even to the relations of parts of the self not 
 strictly, since the parts are not persona. 
 
BOOK VI. 
 
 THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 
 
 Must be 1. WE said above that what we should choose is 1 
 
 because neither too much nor too little, but " the mean/' and 
 
 (a) reason ., , ,, ... . , , . , . ,, ., 
 
 prescribes tnat tne mean is what right reason prescribes. 
 
 the mean, m , . . . . 
 
 (b) they are Ihis we now have to explain. 
 
 Kan Each of the virtues we have discussed implies (as 
 
 The intellect every mental habit implies) some aim which the 
 
 t's (1) scien- ,. i , !_' i_ i i 
 
 tific, (2; cai- rational man keeps in view when he is regulating his 
 
 culative: ice 
 
 want the efforts ; in other words, there must be some standard ^ 
 
 virtue of 
 
 each. for determining the several modes of moderation, || 
 which we say lie between excess and deficiency, and 
 are in accordance with " right reason." But though 2 
 this is quite true, it is not sufficiently precise. In 
 any kind of occupation which can be reduced to 
 rational principles, it is quite true to say, that we 
 must brace ourselves up and relax ourselves neither 
 too much nor too little, but " in moderation," " as right ' 
 reason orders ; " but this alone would not tell one 
 much ; e.g. a man would hardly learn how to treat a 
 case by being told to treat it as the art of medicine 
 prescribes, and as one versed in that art would 
 treat it. 
 
 So in the case of mental habits or types of 3 
 character also it is not enough that the rule we have 
 
1, 1-6.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 181 
 
 laid down is correct ; we need further to know pre- 
 cisely what this right reason is, and what is the 
 standard which it affords. 
 
 * The virtues or excellences of the mind or soul, it 
 will be remembered, we divided f into two classes, 
 and called the one moral and the other intellectual. 
 The moral excellences or virtues we have already 
 discussed in detail ; let us now examine the other 
 class, the intellectual excellences, after some prelimi- 
 nary remarks about the sou]. 
 
 We said before that the soul consists of two 
 parts, the rational and the irrational part. We will 
 now make a similar division of the former, and will 
 assume that there are two rational faculties : (1) that 
 by which we know those things that depend on 
 invariable, -principles, (2) that by which we know 
 those things that are variable. For to generically 
 different objects must correspond generically different 
 faculties, if, as we hold, it is in virtue of some kind 
 of likeness or kinship with their objects that our 
 faculties are able^to know them. 
 
 Let us call the former the scientific or demonstra- 
 
 * This really forms quite a fresh opening, independent of 1-3 ; 
 and it is one among many signs of the incomplete state in which 
 this part of the treatise was left, that these two openings of 
 Book VI. were never fused together. The scheme of the treatise, as 
 unfolded in Book I. (c/. especially I. 7, 13; 13, 20), gives the 
 intellectual virtues an independent place alongside of, or rather 
 above, the moral virtues ; now that the latter have been disposed of 
 it naturally remains to consider the former : this is the natural 
 transition which we have in 4. But besides this the dependence 
 of the moral virtues upon the intellectual virtues makes an examina- 
 tion of the latter absolutely necessary to the completion of the 
 theory of the former ; thus we get the transition of 1-3. 
 t Supra, I. 13, 20. 
 
182 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VI. 
 
 tive, the latter the calculative or deliberative faculty. ( 
 For to deliberate is the same as to calculate, and no 
 one deliberates about things that are invariable. One 
 division then of the rational faculty may be fairly 
 called the calculative faculty. 
 
 Our problem, then, is to find what each of these 7 
 faculties becomes in its full development, or in its 
 best state ; for that will be its excellence or virtue. 
 
 But its excellence will bear direct reference to 
 its proper function. 
 
 The function 2. Now, the faculties which guide us in action and 1 
 iect, both in in the apprehension of truth are three : sense, reason,* I 
 
 practice and . 
 
 speculation, and desire. 
 
 is to attain 
 
 truth. The first of these cannot originate action, as we 2 
 
 see from the fact that brutes have sense but are 
 incapable of action. 
 
 If we take the other two we find two modes of 
 reasoning, viz. affirmation and negation [or assent 
 and denial], and two corresponding modes of desire, 
 viz. pursuit and avoidance [or attraction and re- 
 pulsion]. 
 
 Now, moral virtue is a habit or formed faculty of 
 choice or purpose, and purpose is desire folio wing /I 
 upon deliberation. { I 
 
 It follows, then, that if the purpose is to be all it 
 should be, both the calculation or reasoning must be 
 true and the desire right, and that the very same 
 things must be assented to by the former and pursued 
 by the latter. 
 
 This kind of reasoning, then, and this sort of truth 
 has to do with action. 
 
 * vovs : the word is used here in its widest sense. 
 
1, 7-2, 6.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIKTUES. 183 
 
 3 But speculative reasoning that has to do neither 
 with action nor production is good or bad according 
 as it is true or false simply : for the function of the 
 intellect is always the apprehension of truth ; but 
 the function of the practical intellect is the appre- 
 hension of truth in agreement with right desire. 
 
 4 Purpose, then, is the cause not the final but the 
 efficient cause or origin of action, and the origin of 
 purpose is desire and calculation of means ; so that 
 purpose necessarily implies on the one hand the 
 faculty of reason and its exercise, and on the other 
 hand a certain moral character or state of the desires ; 
 for right action and the contrary kind of action are 
 alike impossible without both reasoning and moral 
 character. 
 
 5 Mere reasoning, however, can never set anything 
 going, but only reasoning about means to an end 
 what may be called practical reasoning (which 
 practical reasoning also regulates production; for in 
 making anything you always have an ulterior object 
 in view what you make is desired not as an end in 
 itself, but only as a means to, or a condition of, some- 
 thing else ; but what you do is an end in itself, for 
 well-doing or right action is the end, and this is the 
 object of desire). 
 
 Purpose, then, may be called either a reason that 
 desires, or a desire that reasons ; and this faculty of 
 originating action constitutes a man. 
 
 6 No past event can be purposed ; e.g. no one 
 purposes to have sacked Troy ; for no one delibe- 
 rates about that which is past, but about that which 
 is to come, and which is variable : but the past 
 
184 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VL 
 
 cannot be undone ; so that Agathon is right when he 
 says 
 
 " This thing alone not God himself can do 
 To make undone that which hath once been done." 
 
 We have thus found that both divisions of the 
 reason, or both the intellectual faculties, have the 
 attainment of truth for their function ; that developed 
 state of each, then, in which it best attains truth will 
 be its excellence or virtue. 
 
 f the five 3. Let us describe these virtues then, starting 1 
 
 gaining afresh from the beginning. 
 
 rmonstra- Let us assume that the modes in which the mind 
 
 things arrives at truth, either in the way of affirmation or 
 
 ivariable. . . . 
 
 negation, are five in number, viz. art, science, pru- 
 dence, wisdom, reason ; * for conception and opinion 
 may be erroneous!"""" 
 
 What science is we may learn from the following 2 
 considerations (for we want a precise account, and 
 must not content ourselves with metaphors). We all 
 suppose that what we know with scientific know- 
 ledge is invariable; but of that which is variable 
 we cannot say, so soon as it is out of sight, whether 
 it is in existence or not. The object of science, then, 
 is necessary. Therefore it is eternal : for whatever is 
 of its own nature necessary is eternal : and what is 
 eternal neither begins nor ceases to be. 
 
 Further, it is held that all science can be taught, 3 
 and that what can be known in the way of science 
 can be learnt. But all teaching starts from some- 
 
 * vo {;s use d now in a narrower special sense which will presently 
 be explained. 
 
3, 1-4, 3.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 185 
 
 thing already known, as we have explained in the 
 Analytics ; for it proceeds either by induction or by 
 syllogism. Now, it is induction that leads the learner 
 up to universal principles, while syllogism starts from 
 these. There are principles, then, from which syllo- 
 gism starts, which are not arrived at by syllogism, and 
 which, therefore, must be arrived at by induction.* 
 
 Science, then, may be defined as a habit or 
 formed faculty of demonstration, with all the further 
 qualifications which are enumerated in the Analytics. 
 It is necessary to add this, because it is only when 
 the principles of our knowledge are accepted and 
 known to us in a particular way, that we can pro- 
 perly be said to have scientific knowledge ; for unless 
 these principles are better known to us than the 
 conclusions based upon them, our knowledge will be 
 merely accidental, f 
 
 This, then, may be taken as our account of science. 
 
 4, That which is variable includes that which 
 
 Icdoc of 
 
 man makes and that which man does : but making things 
 
 variable, 
 
 or production is different from. doing or action (here viz - ( 2 ) f 
 
 v art in wh 
 
 we adopt the popular distinctions). The habit oT 
 formed faculty of acting with reason or calculation, 
 then, is different from the formed faculty of producing 
 with reason or calculation. And so the one cannot 
 include the other ; for action is not production, nor is 
 production action. 
 
 Now, the builder's faculty is one of the arts, and 
 
 * Though, as we see later, induction can elicit them from ex- 
 perience only because they are already latent in that experience. 
 
 f We may know truths of science, but unless we know these 
 in their necessary connection, we have not scientific knowledge. 
 
186 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [Bs VI. 
 
 may be described as a certain formed faculty of pro- 
 ducing with calculation; and there is no art. which 
 is not a faculty of this kind, nor is there any faculty 
 of this kind which is not an art : an art, then, is 
 } the same thing as a formed faculty of producing 
 with correct calculation. 
 
 And every art is concerned with bringing some- 4 
 thing into being, i.e. with contriving or calculating 
 how to bring into being some one of those things 
 that can either be or not be, and the cause of whose 
 production lies in the producer, not in the thing itself 
 which is produced. For art has not to do with that 
 which is or comes into being of necessity, nor with- 
 the products of nature ; for these have the cause of 
 their production in themselves. 
 
 Production and action being different, art of course J5 
 has to do with production, and not with action. And, j 
 in a certain sense, its domain is the same as that 
 of chance or fortune, as Agathon says 
 
 " Art waits on fortune, fortune waits on art." 
 
 Art, then, as we said, is a certain formed faculty 6 
 or habit of production with correct reasoning or cal- 
 culation, and the contrary of this (ar^\ma) is a habit 
 of production with incorrect calculation, the field of 
 both being that which is variable. 
 
 and (3) o/ 5. In order to ascertain what prudence is, we will l 
 
 whatvxdo, first ask who they are whom we call prudent. 
 
 It seems to be characteristic of a prudent man that 
 * he is able to deliberate well about what is good or 
 expedient for himself, not with a view to some par- 
 ticular end, such as health or strength, but with a 
 view to well-being or living well 
 
4, 4-5, 5.J THE INTELLECTUAL VIKTUES. 187 
 
 This is confirmed by the fact that we apply the 
 name sometimes to those who deliberate well in some 
 particular field, when they calculate well the means 
 to some particular good end, in matters that do not 
 fall within the sphere of art. So we may say, gene- ^ 
 rally, that a man who can deliberate well is prudent. 
 
 But no one deliberates about that which cannot 
 be altered, nor about that which it is not in his 
 power to do. 
 
 Now science, we saw, implies demonstration ; but 
 things whose principles or causes are variable do not 
 admit of demonstration ; for everything that depends 
 upon these principles or causes is also variable ; and, 
 on the other hand, things that are necessarily deter- 
 mined do not admit of deliberation. It follows, 
 therefore, that prudence cannot be either a science 
 or an art : it cannot be a science, because the sphere 
 of action is that which is alterable ; it cannot be an 
 art, because production is generically different from 
 action. 
 
 It follows from all this that prudence is a formed 
 faculty that apprehends truth by reasoning or calcu- 1 
 lation, and issues in action, in the domain of human 
 good and ill ; for while production has another end ( 
 than itself, this is not so with action, since good} 
 action or well doing is itself the end. ) 
 
 For this reason Pericles and men who resemble 
 him are considered prudent, because they are able to 
 see what is good for themselves and for men; and 
 this we take to be the character of those who are able 
 to manage a household or a state. 
 
 This, too, is the reason why we call temperance 
 
188 NTCOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. VI. 
 
 i, signifying thereby that it is the virtue 
 which preserves prudence. But what temperance 6 
 preserves is this particular kind of judgment. For it 
 is not any kind of judgment that is destroyed or 
 perverted by the presentation of pleasant or painful 
 objects (not such a judgment, for instance, as that 
 the angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles), 
 but only judgments about matters of practice. For 
 the principles of practice [or the causes which originate 
 action] * are the ends for the sake of which acts are 
 done ; but when a man is corrupted by pleasure or 
 pain, he straightway loses sight of the principle, and 
 no longer sees that this is the end for the sake of 
 which, and as a means to which, each particular 
 act should be chosen and done; for vice is apt to 
 obliterate the principle. 
 
 Our conclusion then is that prudence is a formed u, 
 faculty which apprehends truth by reasoning or cal- I 
 culation, and issues in action, in the field of human]/] 
 good. 
 
 Moreover, art [or the artistic faculty] has its excel- 7 
 lence [or perfect development] in something other than 
 itself, but this is not so with prudence. Again, in 
 the domain of art voluntary error is not so bad as 
 involuntary, but it is worse in the case of prudence, 
 as it is in the case of all the virtues or excellences. 
 It is plain, then, that prudence is a virtue or excel- 
 lence, and not an art. 
 
 And the rational parts of the soul or the intellectual 8 
 faculties being two in number, prudence will be the 
 
 * The conception of the end is at once a cause or source of 
 action and a principle of knowledge j apxh covers both. 
 
5, 6-6, 2.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIKTUES. 189 
 
 virtue of the second, .[the calculative part or] the 
 faculty of opinion ; for opinion deals with that which 
 is variable, and so does prudence. 
 
 But it is something more than " a formed faculty 
 of apprehending truth by reasoning or calculation ; " 
 as we see from the fact that such a faculty may be 
 lost, but prudence, once acquired, can never be lost.* 
 
 6. Science is a mode of iudging that deals with (*) ofintu 
 
 J tive reason 
 
 universal and necessary truths; but truths that &* 
 
 of demon- 
 
 can be demonstrated depend upon principles, and 
 (since science proceeds by demonstrative reasoning) 
 every science has its principles. The principles, then, 
 on which the truths of science depend cannot fall 
 within the /province of science, nor yet of art or 
 prudence ; tor a scientific truth is one that can be 
 demonstrated, but art and prudence have to do with 
 that which is variable. 
 
 Nor can they fall within the province of wisdom ; 
 for it is characteristic of the wise man to have a 
 demonstrative knowledge of certain things. 
 
 But the habits of mind or formed faculties by 
 which we apprehend truth without any mixture of 
 error, whether in the domain of things invariable or 
 in the domain of things variable, are science, prudence, 
 wisdom, and reason.f If then no one of the first 
 three (prudence, science, wisdom) can be the faculty 
 
 * For it implies a determination of the will which is more per- 
 manent in its nature than a merely intellectual habit. And further, 
 when once acquired it must be constantly strengthened by exercise, 
 as occasions for action can never be wanting. 
 
 f Art, which is one of the five enumerated above, is here 
 omitted, either in sheer carelessness, or perhaps because it is sub- 
 ordinate to prudence : cf. supra 5, 7. 
 
190 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. VI. 
 
 which apprehends these principles, the only possible 
 conclusion is that they are apprehended by reason. 
 J*)0/ jf 7. The term o-o0m (wisdom*) is sometimes applied 1 
 
 wisdom as { 
 
 the union of m the domain of the arts to those who are consum- 
 intuitiw mate masters of their art ; e.g. it is applied to Phidias 
 ^Tthetwo n as a mas ^ er f sculpture, and to Polyclitus for his 
 l^rfh 1 s kiU * n P or trait-statues; and in this application it 
 W rw%ncT d means nothing else than excellence of art or , perfect 
 
 development of the artistic faculty. 
 
 But there are also men who are considered wise, : 
 
 not in part nor in any particular thing (as Homer 
 
 says in the Margites 
 
 " Him the gods gave no skill with spade or plough, 
 Nor made him wise in aught"), 
 
 but generally wise. In this general sense, then, 
 wisdom plainly will be the most perfect of the sciences. 
 
 The wise man, then, must not only know what 
 follows from the principles of knowledge, but also 
 know the truth about those principles. Wisdom! 
 therefore, will be the union of [intuitive] reason witli 
 [demonstrative] scientific knowledge, or scientific 
 knowledge of the noblest objects with its crowning 
 perfection, so to speak, added to it. For it would be 
 absurd to suppose that the political faculty or pru- 
 dence is 'the highest of our faculties, unless indeed 
 man is the best of all things in the universe. 
 
 Now, as the terms wholesome and good mean one 
 thing in the case of men and another in the case of 
 fishes, while white and straight always have the 
 same meaning, we must all allow that wise means 
 
 * Of course we do not use " wisdom " in this sense. 
 
7, 1-6.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIKTUES. 191 
 
 one thing always, while prudent means different 
 things ; for we should all say that those who are 
 ^clear-sighted in their own affairs are prudent, and 
 deem them fit to be entrusted with those affairs. 
 (And for this reason we sometimes apply the term 
 prudent even to animals, when they show a faculty 
 of foresight in what concerns their own life.) 
 
 Moreover, it is plain that wisdom cannot be the 
 same as statesmanship. If we apply the term wisdom 
 to knowledge of what is advantageous to ourselves, 
 there will be many kinds of wisdom ; for the know- 
 ledge of what is good will not be one and the same 
 for all animals, but different for each species. It 
 can no more be one than the art of healing can be 
 one and the same for all kinds of living things. 
 
 Man may be superior to all other animals, but 
 that will not make any difference here ; for there are 
 other things of a far diviner nature than man, as 
 to take the most obvious instance the heavenly 
 bodies. 
 
 It is plain, then, after what we have said, that 
 wisdom is the union of scientific [or demonstrative] 
 knowledge and [intuitive] reason about objects of 
 the noblest nature. 
 
 And on this account people call Anaxagoras and 
 Thales and men of that sort wise, but not prudent, 
 seeing them to be ignorant of their own advantage ; 
 and say that their knowledge is something out of the 
 common, wonderful, hard of attainment, nay super- 
 human, but useless, since it is no human good that 
 they seek. 
 
 Prudence, on the other hand, deals with human 
 
192 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VL 
 
 affairs, and with matters that admit of deliberation : 
 for the prudent man's special function, as we conceive 
 it, is to deliberate well ; but no one deliberates about 
 what is invariable, or about matters in which there 
 is not some end, in the sense of some realizable good. 
 But a man is said to deliberate well (without any 
 qualifying epithet) when he is able, by a process of 
 reasoning or calculation, to arrive at what is best for 
 man in matters of practice. 
 
 Prudence, moreover, does not deal in general pro- 7 
 / positions only, but implies knowledge of particular 
 \ facts also ; for it issues in action, and the field of 
 action is the field of particulars. 
 
 This is the reason why some men that lack 
 [scientific] knowledge are more efficient in practice 
 than others that have it, especially men of wide ex- 
 perience ; for if you know that light meat is digestible 
 and wholesome, but do not know what meats are 
 light, you will not be able to cure people so well as 
 a man who only knows that chicken is light and 
 wholesome. 
 
 But prudence is concerned with practice ; so that 
 it needs knowledge both of general truths and of 
 particular facts, but more especially the latter. 
 
 But here also [i.e. in the domain of practice] there 
 must be a supreme form of the faculty [which we will 
 now proceed to consider]. 
 
 prudence 8. And in fact statesmanship and prudence are the l 
 
 same faculty, though* they are differently manifested. 
 
 Of this faculty in its application to the state the f < 
 >ledffe ' supreme form is the legislative faculty, but the special | 
 form which deals with particular cases is called by I 
 
7, 7-8, 4] THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 193 
 
 the generic name statesmanship. The field of the 
 latter is action and deliberation ; for a decree directly 
 concerns action, as the last link in the chain.* And 
 on this account those engaged in this field are alone 
 said to be statesmen, for they alone act like handi- 
 craftsmen. 
 
 But it is when applied to the individual and to 
 one's own affairs that this faculty is especially re- 
 garded as prudence, and this is the form which 
 receives the generic name prudence or practical 
 wisdom (the other forms being (1) the faculty of 
 managing a household, (2) the legislative faculty, 
 (3) statesmanship [in the narrower sense], which is 
 subdivided into (a) the deliberative, (6) the judicial 
 faculty). 
 
 Knowing one's own good, then, would seem to 
 be a kind of knowledge (though it admits of great 
 variety),! and, according to the general opinion, he 
 who knows and attends to his own affairs is prudent, 
 while statesmen are busybodies, as Euripides says^- 
 
 "What ? was I wise, who might without a care 
 Have lived a unit in the multitude 
 Like any other unit ? . . . 
 For those who would excel and do great things -- " 
 
 For men generally seek their own good, and fancy 
 that is what they should do; and from this opinion 
 comes the notion that these men are prudent. 
 
 And yet, perhaps, it is not possible for a man to 
 manage his own affairs well without managing a 
 
 * -irpaKT^v us rJ> ftrxarov, i.e. as the last link in the chain of causes 
 leading to the proposed end last in the order of deliberation, but 
 first in the order of events : cf. III. 3, 12. 
 
 t Varying as the good varies; cf. supra, 7, 4, and I. 3, 2. 
 
 
 
194 NICOMACHEAST ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. VI. 
 
 household and taking part in the management of a 
 state. 
 
 Moreover, how a man is to manage his own affairs 
 is not plain and requires consideration. And this is 5 
 attested by the fact that a young man may become 
 proficient in geometry or mathematics and wise * 
 in these matters/fcut cannot possibly, it is thought, 
 become prudent. V vThe reason of this is that prudence 
 deals with particular filets, with which experience 
 alone can familiarize us ;} but a young man must be 
 inexperienced, for expedience is the fruit of years. 
 
 Why again, we may ask, can a lad be a mathema- G 
 tician but not wise, nor proficient in the knowledge 
 of nature ? And the answer surely is that mathematics 
 is an abstract science, while the principles of wisdom 
 and of natural science are only to be derived from 
 a large experience ; f and that thus, though a young 
 man may repeat propositions of the latter kind, he 
 does not really believe them, while he can easily 
 apprehend the meaning of mathematical terms. 
 
 Error in deliberation, again, may lie either in 7 
 the universal or in the particular judgment ; for in- 
 stance, you may be wrong in judging that all water 
 that weighs heavy is unwholesome, or in judging 
 that this water weighs heavy. But prudence [in 8 
 spite of its universal judgments] plainly is not science ; 
 
 * Here in the looser sense, below ( 6) in the stricter sense, which 
 is the technical meaning of the term in Aristotle : cf. supra, 7, 12. 
 
 t He does not mean that the principles of mathematics are not 
 derived from experience, but only that they are dei'ived from the 
 primitive experience which every boy has, being in fact (as we 
 should say) the framework on which the simplest knowledge of an 
 external world ia built. 
 
8, 5-9, 2.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 195 
 
 for, as we said,* it deals with the ultimate or par- 
 ticular fact [the last link in the chain], for anything 
 that can be done must be of this nature. 
 91 And thus it is in a manner opposed to the - 
 ^ intuitive reason also : the intuitive reason deals 
 with primary principles which cannot be demon- 
 strated, while prudence deals with ultimate [particular] 
 facts which cannot \>Q scientifically proved, but are 
 perceived by sense not one of the special senses, 
 but a sense analogous to that by which we perceive 
 in mathematics that this ultimate [particular] figure 
 is a triangle ; f fo 1 here too our reasoning must come 
 to a stand. But this faculty [by which we appre- 
 hend particular facts in the domain of practice] should, 
 after all, be called sense rather than prudence; for 
 prudence cannot be defined thus.J 
 
 1 9. Inquiry and deliberation are not the same; for o/d 
 deliberation is a particular kind of inquiry. But we 
 must ascertain what good deliberation is whether 
 
 it is a kind of science or opinion, or happy guessing, 
 or something quite different. 
 
 2 It is not science ; for we do not inquire about that 
 
 * Cf. supra, 2. 
 
 j* The perception "that the ultimate fact is a triangle" (which 
 is the more obvious translation of these words), whether this means 
 " that three lines is the least number that will enclose a space," 
 or " that the possibility of a triangle is a fact that cannot be 
 demonstrated," is in either case not the perception of a particular 
 fact ; but it is the perception of a particular fact that is needed if 
 the illustration is to be in point. 
 
 J The intuitive reason (yovs) is here opposed to prudence 
 (<f>p Svnffis) , but presently (cap. 11) is found to be included in it; 
 reason (vovs) was similarly in cap. 6 opposed to wisdom (ffoQia), but 
 in cap. 7 found to be included in it. 
 
196 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. VI. 
 
 which we know : but good deliberation is a kind 
 of deliberation, and when we deliberate we inquire 
 and calculate. 
 
 Nor is it happy guessing; for we make happy 
 guesses without calculating and in a moment, but we 
 take time to deliberate, and it is a common saying 
 that execution should be swift, but deliberation slow. 
 
 Good deliberation, again, is different from sagacity, 3 
 which is a kind of happy guessing. 
 
 Nor is it any kind of opinion. 
 
 But since in deliberating ill we go wrong, and in 
 deliberating well we go right, it is plain that good 
 deliberation is a kind of Tightness, but a Tightness 
 or correctness neither of science nor opinion ; for 
 science does not admit of correctness (since it does 
 not admit of error), and correctness of opinion is 
 simply truth ; and, further, that concerning which we 
 have an- opinion is always something already settled. 
 
 Good deliberation, however, is impossible without 
 calculation. 
 
 We have no choice left, then, but to say that it 
 is correctness of reasoning (Siavota) ; for reasoning is 
 not yet assertion: and whereas opinion is not an 
 inquiry, but already a definite assertion, when we 
 are deliberating, whether well or ill, we are inquiring 
 and calculating. 
 
 But as good deliberation is a kind of correctness 4 
 in deliberation, we must first inquire what delibera- 
 tion means, and what its field is.* 
 
 Now, there are various kinds of correctness, and it 
 
 * This, however, is not done here, perhaps because it has been 
 already done at length in III. 3. 
 
 
9, 3-7.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIETUES. 197 
 
 is plain that not every kind of correctness in delibera- 
 tion is good deliberation ; for the incontinent man 
 or the vicious man may duly arrive, by a process of 
 calculation, at that which he started to find,* so that 
 he will have deliberated correctly, though what he 
 gains is a great evil. But to have deliberated well is 
 thought to be a good thing ; for it is only a particular 
 kind of correctness in deliberation that is called 
 good deliberation that, namely, which arrives at 
 what is good. 
 
 But, further, what is good may be arrived at by a 
 false syllogism ; I mean that a right conclusion as to 
 what is to be done may be arrived at in a wrong way 
 or upon wrong grounds the middle term being 
 wrong ; f so that what leads to a right conclusion as 
 to what should be done is not good deliberation, 
 unless the grounds also be right. 
 
 A further difference is that one may arrive at the 
 right conclusion slowly, another rapidly. So we 
 must add yet another condition to the above, and say 
 that good deliberation means coming to a right con- 
 clusion as to what is expedient or ought to be done, and 
 coming to it in the right manner and at the right time. 
 
 Again, we speak of deliberating well simply, and 
 of deliberating well with a view to a particular 
 kind of end. So good deliberation simply [or with- 
 out any qualifying epithet] is that which leads to 
 right conclusions as to the means to the end simply ; 
 
 * The means to his bad end. 
 
 t e.g. this act should be done simply because it is just ; I may 
 decide to do it for reputation, or for pleasure's sake, or thinkiog it 
 to be an act of generosity. 
 
198 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VI. 
 
 a particular kind of good deliberation is that which 
 leads to right conclusions as to the means to a par- 
 ticular kind of end. And so, when we say that 
 prudent men must deliberate well, good deliberation 
 in this case will be correctness in judging what is 
 expedient to a particular end, of which prudence has 
 a tpue conception. 
 
 10. The faculty of intelligence (along with its 1 
 opposite, unintelligence), in respect of which we call 
 men intelligent (and unintelligent), is not the same as 
 science generally, nor as opinion (for then all men 
 would be intelligent), nor is it identical with any par- 
 ticular science, such as medicine, which deals with 
 matters of health, and geometry, which deals with 
 magnitudes ; for intelligence has not to do with what 
 is eternal and unchangeable, nor has it to do with 
 events of every kind, but only with those that one 
 may doubt and deliberate about. And so it has to do 
 with the same matters as prudence ; but they are not 
 identical : prudence issues orders, for its scope is that 
 which is to be done or not to be done; while in- 2 
 telligence discerns merely (intelligence being equiva- 
 lent to sound intelligence, and an intelligent man to 
 a man of sound intelligence). 
 
 Intelligence, in fact, is equivalent neither to the 3 
 possession nor to the acquisition of prudence; but 
 just as the learner in science is said to show in- 
 telligence when he makes use of the scientific know- 
 ledge which he hears from his teacher, so in the 
 domain of prudence a man is said to show intelli- 
 gence when he makes use of the opinions which he 
 hears from others in judging, and judging fitly 
 
Of judgment 
 Of reason or 
 intuitive 
 perception 
 as the basis 
 of the 
 practical 
 
 10, 1-11, 2.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 199 
 
 for soundly [when we speak of sound intelligence] 
 means fitly. 
 
 And from this use of the term with regard to 
 learning comes its employment to denote that faculty 
 which we imply when we call a man intelligent ; for 
 we often speak of the intelligence of a learner. 
 
 11. Judgment (what we mean when we speak 
 of a man of good judgment, or say a man has judg- 
 ment) is a correct discernment of that which is 
 equitable. A proof of this is that the equitable 
 man is thought to be especially ready to forgive, l " 
 and that to forgive some things is considered equit- 
 able. But forgiveness (0-1*77 vw^urj) * s judgment (yvwfjLrf) 
 which correctly discerns that which is equitable 
 correctly meaning truly. 
 
 Now, all these four formed faculties which we 
 have enumerated not unnaturally tend in the same 
 direction. We apply all these terms judgment, 
 intelligence, prudence, and reason to the same 
 persons, and talk of people as having, at a certain 
 age, already acquired judgment and. reason, and as 
 being prudent and intelligent. For all these four 
 faculties deal with ultimate and particular* facts, 
 and it is in virtue of a power of discrimination in 
 the matters with which prudence deals that we call 
 a person intelligent, or a man of sound judgment, 
 or a forgiving man ; for equitable is a common 
 term that is applicable to all that is good in our 
 dealings with others. 
 
 * All particular facts (TO. Ko0' tKaarov) are ultimate (eo-xora), i.e. 
 undemonstrable ; but not all ultimate facts (e<rxTo) are particular 
 facts as presently appears. 
 
200 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VI. 
 
 But that which is to be done is always some a 
 particular thing, something ultimate. As we have 
 seen, it is the business of the prudent man to know it, 
 and intelligence and judgment also have to do with 
 that which is to be done, which is something ultimate. 
 
 And the intuitive reason [the last of the four 4 
 faculties above enumerated] also deals with ulti- 
 mate truths, in both senses of the word ; * for both 
 primary principles and ultimate facts [in the nar- 
 rower sense of the word ultimate = particular] are 
 apprehended by the intuitive reason, and not by 
 demonstration : on the one hand, in connection with 
 deductions [of general truths in morals and politics],! 
 reason apprehends the unalterable first principles ; 
 on the other hand, in connection with practical cal- 
 culations, reason apprehends the ultimate [particular] 
 alterable fact which forms the minor premise [in 
 the practical syllogism]. These particular judgments, 
 we may say, are given by reason, as they are 
 the source of our conception of the final cause or 
 end of man ; the universal principle is elicited from 
 
 f A he particular facts : these particular facts, there- 5 
 Qre, must be apprehended by a sense or intuitive 
 jerception ; and this is reason.f 
 
 (And so it is thought that these faculties are 
 natural, and that while nature never makes a man 
 wise, she does endow men with judgment and intelli- 
 gence and reason. This is shown by the fact that 6 
 
 * Lit. in both directions, i.e. not the last only, but the first also. 
 
 f Cf. supra, 8, 1, 2. 
 
 J This afodriffis may be called vovs because the universal (the 
 general conception of human good) is elicited from these particu- 
 lar judgments. 
 
11, 3-6.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIKTUES. 201 
 
 these powers are believed to accompany certain 
 periods of life, and that a certain age is said to 
 bring reason and judgment, implying that they come 
 by nature.) 
 
 The intuitive reason, then, is both beginning 
 and end ; for demonstration both starts from and 
 terminates in these ultimate truths [which reason 
 supplies]. And on this account we ought to pay the 
 same respect to the undemonstrated assertions and 
 opinions of men of age and experience and prudence 
 as to their demonstrations. For experience has given' 
 them a faculty of vision which enables them to see 
 correctly.* 
 
 * Throughout this chapter we are concerned with the practical 
 intellect alone. He has already stated in cap. 6 that the intuitive 
 reason is the basis of the speculative intellect ; here he says that ife 
 is also the basis of the practical intellect. We have to distinguish 
 here three different employments of the practical faculty : 
 
 (1) (if we invert the order), undemonstrated assertion, viz. 
 that under the circumstances this is the right thing to do ( 6) : 
 here the judgment is altogether intuitive; i.e. no grounds are given. 
 
 (2) demonstration (improperly so called, more properly cal- 
 culation) that this is the right thing to do ; e.g. this act is to be 
 done because it is just : here the intuitive reason supplies the minor 
 premise of the practical syllogism (this act is just), and also (in. 
 directly) the major (whatever is just is good), i.e. it supplies the 
 data the several particular intuitions from which the general pro- 
 position is elicited : ey TCUS TrpaKTi/caTs, sc. a7ro5et'|6(n (practical calcu- 
 lations), 4j cf. TUV a7ro5et|ewy, G, and of ffvX^yiff/JLol TUV irpaKTeDy, 
 12, 10. 
 
 (3) deduction or demonstration (also improperly so called) of 
 general truths in morals and politics : Ka.ro. rb.s airoSei^is, 4 : here 
 also the data from which deduction starts can only be apprehended 
 by intuitive perception or reason : cf. I. 4, 7, 7, 20. The difference 
 between (2) and (3) is plainly shown supra 8, 2, where TroAm/dj 
 in the wider sense (= po/xofler/idj) which deals with laws, is distin- 
 guished from iroXiriK-f) in the narrower sense which has to do with 
 decrees : cf. also I. 2, 7, and X. 9, 14. 
 
202 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VI. 
 
 "We have said, then, what prudence is, and what 
 wisdom is, and what each deals with, and that each 
 is the virtue of a different part of the soul. 
 of the u*e$ y 12, But here an objection may be raised. "What 
 
 of wisdom f 
 
 andpru- fg the use of them ? " it may be asked. " Wisdom does 
 
 dence. How 
 
 prudence is not consider what tends to make man happy (for 
 
 related to r rv V 
 
 cleverness, a does not ask how anything is brought about). 
 Prudence indeed does this, but why do we need it ? 
 Prudence is the faculty which deals with what is just 
 and noble and good for man, i.e. with those things 
 which it is the part of the good man to do ; but the 
 knowledge of them no more makes us apter to do 
 them, if (as has been said) the [moral] virtues are 
 habits, than it does in the case of what is healthy and 
 wholesome healthy and wholesome, that is, not in 
 the sense of conducing to, but in the sense of issuing 
 from, a healthy habit; for a knowledge of medicine 
 and gymnastics does not make us more able to do 
 these things. 
 
 " But if it be meant that a man should be prudent, 
 not in order that he may do these acts, but in order 
 that he may become able to do them, then prudence 
 will be no use to those who are good, nor even to 
 those who are not. For it will not matter whether 
 they have prudence themselves, or take the advice of 
 others who have it. It will be enough to do in these 
 matters as we do in regard to health ; for if we wish 
 to be in health, we do not go and learn medicine. 
 
 "Again, it seems to be a strange thing that 
 prudence, though inferior to wisdom, must yet govern 
 it, since in every field the practical faculty bears 
 sway and issues orders." 
 
11, 7-12, 7.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 203 
 
 We must now discuss these points ; for hitherto 
 we have been only stating objections. 
 
 First of all, then, we say that both prudence and 
 wisdom must be desirable in themselves, since each is 
 the virtue of one of the parts of the soul, even if 
 neither of them produces anything. 
 
 Next, they do produce something. 
 
 On the one hand, wisdom produces happiness, not 
 in the sense in which medicine produces health, but 
 in the sense in which health produces health ; * that 
 is to say, wisdom being a part of complete virtue, its 
 possession and exercise make a man happy. 
 
 On the other hand [in the sphere of action], man 
 performs his function perfectly when he acts in accord- 
 ance with both prudence and moral virtue ; for while 
 the latter ensures the Tightness of the end aimed at, 
 the former ensures the Tightness of the means thereto. 
 
 The fourth f part of the soul, the vegetative part, 
 or the faculty of nutrition, has no analogous excellence; 
 for it has no power to act or not to act. 
 
 But as to the objection that prudence makes us 
 no more apt to do what is noble and just, let us take 
 the matter a little deeper, beginning thus : 
 
 * i.e. in the sense in which a healthy state of the body (vyieia aa 
 a e|js in Aristotle's language) produces healthy performance of the 
 bodily functions (vyieia as an evepyeia). 
 
 t The other three are sense, reason, desire (a&rthjem, vovs, opets) : 
 cf. supra, cap. 2. The excellences or best states of the desires have 
 already been described as the moral virtues. Wisdom and prudence 
 are the excellences of the reason or intellect (vovs in its widest 
 meaning). Sense (cu<r07jcrts) does not need separate treatment, as it 
 is here regarded as merely subsidiary to reason and desire; for 
 human life is (1) speculative, (2) practical, and no independent place 
 is allowed to the artistic life. The fourth part therefore alone remains. 
 
204 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. VI. 
 
 We allow, on the one hand, that some who do just 
 acts are not yet just ; e.g. those who do what the laws 
 enjoin either unwillingly or unwittingly, or for some 
 external motive and not for the sake of the acts them- 
 selves (though they do that which they ought and all 
 that a good man should do). And, on the other hand, 
 it seems that when a man does the several acts with 
 a certain disposition he is good; i.e. when he does 
 them of deliberate purpose, and for the sake of the 
 acts themselves. 
 
 Now, the Tightness of the purpose is secured by 
 [moral] virtue, but to decide what is proper to be 
 done in order to carry out the purpose belongs not to 
 [moral] virtue, but to another faculty. But we must 
 dwell a little on this point and try to make it quite 
 clear. 
 
 There is a faculty which we call cleverness 
 (Svor?]c) the power of hitting upon and carrying 
 out the means which tend to any proposed end. If 
 then the end be noble, the power merits praise ; but 
 if the end be base, the power is the power of the 
 villain. So we apply the term clever both to the 
 prudent man and the villain.* 
 
 Now, this power is not identical with prlidence, 
 but is its necessary condition. But this power, the 
 " eye of the soul " as we may call it, does not attain 
 its perfect development f without moral virtue, as we 
 said before, and as may be shown thus : 
 
 All syllogisms or deductive reasonings about what 
 is to be done have for their starting point [principle 
 or major premise] "the end or the supreme good 
 
 * Reading rovs ttavovpyovs. f As <l>p6i'i}ais t prudence. 
 
12, 8-13, 2.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIETUES. 205 
 
 is so and so" (whatever it be; any definition of the 
 good will do for the argument). But it is only to the 
 good man that this presents itself as the good; for 
 vice perverts us and causes us to err about the prin- 
 ciples of action. So it is plain, as we said, that it 
 is impossible to be prudent without being morally 
 good. 
 
 13. This suggests a further consideration of moral 
 
 p , . denceis 
 
 virtue ; for the case is closely analogous to this I related to 
 
 . , moral virtue. 
 
 mean that just as prudence is related to cleverness, 
 being not identical with it, but closely akin to it, so 
 is fully developed moral virtue related to natural 
 virtue. 
 
 All admit that in a certain sense the several kinds 
 of character are bestowed by nature. Justice, a 
 tendency to temperance, courage, and the other types 
 of character are exhibited from the moment of birth. 
 Nevertheless, we look for developed goodness as some- ^ 
 thing different from this, and expect to find these 
 same qualities in another form. For even in children 
 and brutes these natural virtues are present, but 
 without the guidance of reason they are plainly 
 hurtful. So much at least seems to be plain that 
 just as a strong-bodied creature devoid of sight 
 stumbles heavily when it tries to move, because it 
 cannot see, so is it with this natural virtue; but 
 when it is enlightened by reason it acts surpassingly 
 well; and the natural virtue (which before was only 
 like virtue) will then be fully developed virtue. 
 
 We find, then, that just as there are two forms of 
 the calculative faculty, viz. cleverness and prudence, so * 
 there are two forms of the moral qualities, viz. natural 
 
206 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [Bs. VI. 
 
 virtue and fully developed virtue, and that the latter 
 is impossible without prudence. 
 
 On this account some people say that all the ; 
 virtues are forms of prudence, and in particular 
 Socrates held this view, being partly right in his 
 inquiry and partly wrong wrong in thinking that 
 all the virtues are actually forms of prudence, but 
 right in saying that they are impossible without 
 prudence. 
 
 This is corroborated by the fact that nowadays - 
 every one in defining virtue would, after specifying 
 its field, add that it is a formed faculty or habit in 
 accordance with right reason, " right " meaning " in 
 accordance with prudence." 
 
 Thus it seems that every one has a sort of inkling 
 that a formed habit or character of this kind (i.e. in 
 accordance with prudence) is virtue. 
 
 Only a slight change is needed in this expression. < 
 Virtue is not simply a formed habit in accordance 
 with right reason, but a formed habit implying right 
 reason.* But right reason in these matters is prudence. 
 
 So whereas Socrates held that the [moral] virtues / 
 are forms of reason (for he held that these are all// 
 modes of knowledge), we hold that they imply reason. If 
 
 It is evident, then, from what has been said that it i 
 is impossible to be good in the full sense without 
 prudence, or to be prudent without moral virtue. 
 And in this way we can meet an objection which 
 may be urged. " The virtues," it may be said, " are 
 found apart from each other ; a man who is strongly 
 
 K&yov : the agent must not only be guided by reason, but j 
 by his own reason, not another's. 
 
13, 3-8.] THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES. 207 
 
 predisposed to one virtue has not an equal tendency 
 towards all the others, so that he will have acquired 
 this virtue while he still lacks that." We may answer 
 that though this may be the case with the natural 
 virtues, yet it cannot be the case with those virtues 
 for which we call a man good without any qualify- 
 ing epithet. The presence of the single virtue of 
 prudence implies the presence of all the moral virtues. 
 
 And thus it is plain, in the first place, that, even 
 if it did not help practice, we should yet need pru- 
 dence as the virtue or excellence of a part of our 
 nature ; and, in the second place, that purpose cannot 
 be right without both prudence and moral virtue; for 
 the latter makes us desire the end, while the former 
 makes us adopt the right means to the end. 
 
 Nevertheless, prudence is not the mistress of wis- 
 dom and of the better part of our nature [the reason], 
 any more than medicine is the mistress of health. 
 Prudence does not employ wisdom in her service, but 
 provides means for the attainment of wisdom does 
 not rule it, but rules in its interests. To assert the 
 contrary would be like asserting that statesmanship 
 rules the gods, because it issues orders about all public 
 concerns [including the worship of the gods.] 
 
BOOK VII. 
 
 CHAPTERS 1-10. CHARACTERS OTHER THAN VIRTUE 
 AND VICE. 
 
 1. AT this point we will make a fresh start and l 
 feomttMiuK, say that the undesirable forms of moral character are 
 
 heroic virtue ,-, . , . . . .. i i TJ. 
 
 and three in number, viz. vice, incontinence, brutality. 
 
 of method. In the case of two of these it is plain what the 
 
 Statement of ... . , . ,. n 
 
 options opposite is i virtue is the name we give to the opposite 
 continence, of vice, and continence to the opposite of incon- 
 tinence ; but for the opposite of the brutal character 
 it would be most appropriate to take that excellence 
 which is beyond us, the excellence of a hero or a 
 god, as Homer makes Priam say of Hector that he 
 was surpassingly good 
 
 " Nor seemed the child 
 Of any mortal man, but of a god." 
 
 If, then, superlative excellence raises men into gods, 2 
 as the stories tell us, it is evident that the opposite 
 of the brutal character would be some such super- 
 lative excellence. For just as neither virtue nor vice 
 I belongs to a brute, so does neither belong to a god ; 
 to the latter belongs something higher than virtue, 
 to the former something specifically different from 
 vice. 
 
1, 1-6.] INCONTINENCE. 209 
 
 3 But as it is rare to find a godlike man (an epithet 
 which the Spartans are wont to give to a man whom 
 they admire exceedingly, calling him <raoe* av??^), 
 so also is the brutal character rare among men. It 
 occurs most frequently among the barbarians; it is 
 also produced sometimes by disease and organic in- 
 juries; and, thirdly, we apply the name as a term of 
 reproach to those who carry vice to a great pitch, f 
 
 4 However, we shall have to make some mention 
 of this disposition further on, J and we have already 
 discussed vice ; so we will now speak of incontinence 
 and softness and luxuriousness, and also of con- 
 tinence and hardiness for we must regard these as 
 the names of states or types of character that are 
 neither identical with virtue and vice respectively 
 nor yet generically different. 
 
 5 And here we must follow our usual method, and, 
 after stating the current opinions about these affec- 
 tions, proceed first to raise objections, and then to 
 establish, if possible, the truth of all the current 
 opinions on the subject, or, if not of all, at least of the 
 greater number and the most important. For if the 
 difficulties can be resolved and the popular notions 
 thus confirmed, we shall have attained as much 
 certainty as the subject allows. 
 
 6 It is commonly thought (1) that continence and 
 hardiness are good and laudable, while incontinence 
 and softness are bad and blamable; and, again (2), 
 
 * o-eTos is a dialectical variety for 0e?os, godlike, 
 t (1) Some men are born brutal j (2) others are made BO; (3) 
 others make themselves so. 
 J Infra, cap. 5. 
 
 P 
 
210 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VII. * 
 
 that a continent man is identical with one who abides 
 by his calculations, and an incontinent man with 
 one who swerves from them; and (3) that the in- 
 continent man, knowing that an act is bad, is impelled 
 to do it by passion, while the continent man, knowing 
 that his desires are bad, is withheld from following 
 them by reason. Also (4) it is commonly thought 
 that the temperate man is continent and hardy : but 
 while some hold that conversely the latter is always 
 temperate, others think that this is not always so ; 
 and while some people hold that the profligate is 
 incontinent, and that the incontinent man is pro- 
 fligate, and use these terms indiscriminately, others 
 make a distinction between them. Again (5), with 7 
 regard to the prudent man, sometimes people say it 
 is impossible for him to be incontinent; at other times 
 they say that some men who are prudent and clever 
 are incontinent. Lastly (6), people are called in- 
 continent even in respect of anger and honour and 
 gain. 
 statement of 2. These, then, are the common sayings or current l 
 
 difficulties as 
 
 opinions. 
 
 right and do t But in what sense, it may be objected, can a man 
 judge rightly when he acts incontinently ? 
 
 Some people maintain that he cannot act so if 
 
 he really knows what is right; for it would be 
 
 strange, thought Socrates, if, when real knowledge 
 
 were in the man, something else should master him 
 
 and hale him about like a slave. Socrates, indeed, 
 
 contested the whole position, maintaining that there 
 
 I is no such thing as incontinence : when a man 
 
 / acts contrary to what is best, he never, according to 
 
1, 7-2, 5.] INCONTINENCE. 211 
 
 Socrates, has a right judgment of the case, but acts / 
 so by reason of ignorance. 
 
 Now, this theory evidently conflicts with ex- 
 perience; and with regard to the passion which 
 sways the incontinent man, if it really is due to 
 ignorance, we must ask what kind of ignorance it 
 is due to. For it is plain that, at any rate, he who 
 acts incontinently does not fancy that the act is good 
 till the passion is upon him. 
 
 There are other people who in part agree and 
 in part disagree with Socrates. They allow that 
 nothing is able to prevail against knowledge, but 
 do not allow that men never act contrary to what 
 seems best; and so they say that the incontinent 
 man, when he yields to pleasure, has not knowledge, 
 but only opinion. 
 
 But if, in truth, it be only opinion and not 
 knowledge, and if it be not a strong but a weak 
 belief or judgment that opposes the desires (as is the 
 case when a man is in doubt), we pardon a man for 
 not abiding by it in the face of strong desires ; but, in 
 fact, we do not pardon vice nor anything else that we 
 call blamable. 
 
 Are we, then, to say that it is prudence that op- 
 poses desire [in those cases when we blame a man for 
 yielding] ? For it is the strongest form of belief. 
 Surely that would be absurd : for then the same man 
 would be at once prudent and incontinent ; but no 
 one would maintain that a prudent man could volun- 
 tarily do the vilest acts. Moreover, we have already 
 shown that prudence is essentially a faculty that 
 issues in act ; for it is concerned with the ultimate 
 
212 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 thing [the thing to be done], and implies the pos- 
 session of all the moral virtues. 
 
 Again, if a man cannot be continent without 6 
 having strong and bad desires, the temperate man 
 will not be continent, nor the continent man 
 temperate ; for it is incompatible with the temperate 
 character to have either very violent or bad desires. 
 
 They must, however, be both strong and bad in 
 the continent man : for if they were good, the habit 
 that hindered from following them would be bad, so 
 that continence would not be always good ; if they 
 were weak and not bad, it would be nothing to re- 
 spect ; and if they were bad, but at the same time 
 weak, it would be nothing to admire. 
 
 Again, if continence makes a man apt to abide by 7 
 any opinion whatsoever, it is a bad thing as, for 
 instance, if it makes him abide by a false opinion : 
 and if incontinence makes a man apt to abandon any 
 opinion whatsoever, there will be a kind of incon- 
 tinence that is good, an instance of which is Neopto- 
 lemus in the Philoctetes of Sophocles ; for he merits 
 praise for being prevented from persevering in the 
 plan which Ulysses had persuaded him to adopt, by 
 the pain which he felt at telling a lie. 
 
 Again, the well-known argument of the sophists, 8 
 though fallacious, makes a difficulty : for, wishing to 
 establish a paradoxical conclusion, so that they may 
 be thought clever if they succeed, they construct a 
 syllogism which puzzles the hearer ; for his reason is 
 fettered, as he is unwilling to rest in the conclusion, 
 which is revolting to him, but is unable to advance, 
 since he cannot find a hole in the argument. Thus it 
 
2, 6-12.] INCONTINENCE. 213 
 
 9 may be argued* that folly combined with incon- 
 tinence is virtue: by reason of his incontinence a 
 man does the opposite of that which he judges to be 
 good ; but he judges that the good is bad and not to 
 be done ; the result is that he will do the good and 
 not the bad. 
 
 10 Again, he who pursues and does what is pleasant 
 from conviction, and deliberately chooses these things, 
 would seem [if this doctrine be true] to be better than 
 he who does so, not upon calculation, but by reason of 
 incontinence. For the former is more curable, as his 
 convictions might be changed ; but to the incontinent 
 man we may apply the proverb which says, " If water 
 
 11 chokes you, what will you wash it down with ?" For 
 if he were not convinced that what he does is bad, a 
 change in his convictions might stop his doing it; 
 but, as it is, though he is convinced that a certain 
 thing is good, he nevertheless does something else. 
 
 Again, if incontinence and continence may be 
 displayed in anything, who is the man whom we 
 call incontinent simply ? For though no one man 
 unites all the various forms of incontinence, there 
 yet are people to whom we apply the term without 
 any qualification. 
 
 12 Something of this sort, then, are the objections 
 that suggest themselves; and of these we must re- 
 move some and leave others ;t for the resolution of 
 a difficulty is the discovery of the truth. 
 
 * This is the sophistical paradox alluded to. 
 
 t Of these objections, as well as of the opinions which called 
 them forth, it is to be expected that some should prove ground- 
 less, and that others should be established and taken up into the 
 answer. 
 
214 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK.VII. 
 
 Mutton.- to 3. We have, then, to inquire (1) whether the in- 1 
 man" v senses; continent man acts with knowledge or not, and what 
 sense such a knowledge means here ; then (2) what is to be re- 
 garded as the field in which continence and incon- 
 tinence manifest themselves I mean whether their 
 field be all pleasures and pains, or certain definite 
 classes of these ; then (3), with regard to the continent 
 and the hardy man, whether they are the same or 
 different ; and so on with the other points that are 
 akin to this inquiry. 
 
 (But we ought to begin by inquiring whether the 2 
 species of continence and the species of incontinence 
 of which we are here speaking are to be distinguished 
 from other species by the field of their manifestation 
 or by their form or manner I mean whether a man 
 is to be called incontinent in this special sense merely 
 because he is incontinent or uncontrolled by reason 
 in certain things, or because he is incontinent in 
 a certain manner, or rather on both grounds; and 
 in connection with this we ought to determine 
 whether or no this incontinence and this continence 
 may be displayed in all things. And our answer 
 to these questions will be that the man who is 
 called simply incontinent, without any qualification, 
 does not display his character in all things, but only 
 in those things in which the profligate manifests 
 himself; nor is it simply an uncontrolled disposition 
 with regard to them that makes him what he is 
 (for then incontinence would be the same as pro- 
 fligacy), but a particular kind of uncontrolled dis- 
 position. For the profligate is carried along of hia 
 ' own deliberate choice or purpose, holding that what 
 
3, 1-4.] INCONTINENCE. 215 
 
 is pleasant at the moment is always to be pursued; 
 while the incontinent man thinks otherwise, but 
 pursues it all the same.) * [Let us now turn to 
 question (1).] 
 
 As to the argument that it is true opinion 
 and not knowledge against which men act in- 
 continently, it really makes no difference here ; for 
 some of those who merely have opinions are in no 
 doubt at all, but fancy that they have exact know- 
 ledge. 
 
 If then it be said that those who have opinion 
 more readily act against their judgment because 
 of the weakness of their belief, we would answer 
 that there is no such difference between knowledge 
 and opinion; for some people have just as strong 
 a belief in their mere opinions as others have in 
 
 * This section ( 2) seems to me not an alternative to 1 ; but a 
 correction of it, or rather a remark to the effect that the whole 
 passage (both 1 and the discussion introduced by it) ought to 
 be rewritten, and an indication of the way in which this should be 
 done. Of considerable portions of the Nicomachean Ethics we may 
 safely say that the author could not have regarded them as finished 
 in the form in which we have them. It is possible that the author 
 made a rough draft of the whole work, or of the several parts of it, 
 which he kept by him and worked upon, working some parts up to 
 completion ; sometimes rewriting a passage without striking out the 
 original version, or even indicating which was to be retained (e.g. 
 the theory of pleasure) ; more frequently adding an after-thought 
 which required the rewriting of a whole passage, without rewriting 
 it (e.g., to take one instance out of many in Book V., rb avrnreTrovQ6s 
 is an after-thought which strictly requires that the whole book 
 should be rewritten) ; sometimes (as here) making a note of the way 
 in which a passage should be rewritten. Suppose, if need be, that 
 the work, left in this incomplete state, was edited and perhaps 
 further worked upon by a later hand, and we have enough, I think, to 
 account for the facts. 
 
216 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BE. VII. 
 
 what they really know, of which Heraclitus is an 
 instance.* 
 
 But we use the word know (cTnoratrflcu) in two 5 
 different senses : he who has knowledge which he is 
 not now using is said to know a thing, and also he 
 who is now using his knowledge. Having knowledge, 
 therefore, which is not now present to the mind, 
 about what one ought not to do, will be different 
 from having knowledge which is now present. Only 
 in the latter sense, not in the former, does it seem 
 strange that a man should act against his knowledge. 
 
 Again, since these reasonings involve two kinds 6 
 of premises [a universal proposition for major and 
 a particular for minor], there is nothing to prevent a 
 man from acting contrary to his knowledge though 
 he has both premises, if he is now using the universal 
 only, and not the particular ; for the particular is the 
 thing to be done. 
 
 Again, different kinds of universal propositions 
 may be involved : one may concern the agent him- 
 self, another the thing ; for instance, you may reason 
 (1) "all men are benefited by dry things, and this 
 is a man ; " and (2) " things of this kind are dry ; " 
 but the second minor, " this thing is of this kind," 
 may be unknown or the knowledge of it may be 
 dormant.t 
 
 These distinctions, then, will make a vast difference, 
 
 * Alluding to the Heraclitean doctrine of the union of opposites, 
 which Aristotle rather unfairly interprets as a denial of the law of 
 contradiction. Cf. Met. iii. 7, 1012 a 24. 
 
 f i.e. not now present, OVK eyepycl : but in 10 evepyel seems to 
 mean " is effectively present." 
 
3, 5-8 ] INCONTINENCE. 217 
 
 so much so that it does not seem strange that a man 
 should act against his knowledge if he knows in one 
 way, though it does seem strange if he knows in 
 another way. 
 
 But, again, it is possible for a man to " have know- 
 ledge " in yet another way than those just mentioned : 
 we see, I mean, that " having knowledge without 
 Rising it " includes different modes of having, so that 
 a man may have it in one sense and in another 
 sense not have it ; for instance, a man who is asleep, 
 or mad, or drunk. But people who are under the 
 influence of passion are in a similar state ; for anger, 
 sexual desire and the like do evidently alter 
 the condition of the body, and in some cases actually 
 produce madness. It is plain, then, that the in- 
 continent man must be allowed to have knowledge 
 in the same sort of way as those who are asleep, 
 mad, or drunk.* 
 
 But to repeat the words of knowledge is no proof 
 that a man really has knowledge [in the full sense of 
 having an effective knowledge] ; for even when they 
 are under the influence of these passions people 
 repeat demonstrations and sayings of Empedocles, 
 
 * Action in spite of knowledge presents no difficulty (1) if that 
 knowledge be not present at the time of action, 5, or (2) if, though 
 the major (or majors) be known and present, the minor (or one of 
 the minors) be unknown or absent, 6. But (3) other cases remain 
 which can only be explained by a further distinction introduced in 
 7 ; i.e.-a man who has knowledge may at times be in a state iu 
 which his knowledge, though present, has lost its reality in which, 
 though he may repeat the old maxims, they mean no more to him 
 than to one who talks in his sleep. 7, I venture to think, is (like 
 2) not a repetition or an alternative version, but an after- thought, 
 which requires the rewriting of the whole passage. 
 
218 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK YII. 
 
 just as learners string words together before they 
 understand their meaning the meaning must be 
 ingrained in them, and that requires time. So we 
 must hold that the incontinent repeat words in the 
 same sort of way that actors do. 
 
 Again, one may inquire into the cause of this 9 
 phenomenon [of incontinence] by arguments based 
 upon its special nature,* as follows : You may have 
 
 (1) a universal judgment, (2) a judgment about par- 
 ticular facts which fall at once within the province 
 of sense or perception ; but when the two are joined 
 together,! the conclusion must in matters of specu- 
 lation be assented to by the mind, in matters of 
 practice be carried out at once into act ; for instance, 
 if you judge (1) " all sweet things are to be tasted," 
 
 (2) " this thing before me is sweet " a particular fact, 
 then, if you have the power and are not hindered, 
 you cannot but at once put the conclusion ["this is 
 to be tasted "] into practice. 
 
 Now, when you have on the one side the 10 
 
 universal judgment forbidding you to taste, and on 
 
 the other side the universal, "all sweet things are 
 
 pleasant," J and the particular judgment, " this thing 
 
 before me is sweet," and this latter judgment is 
 
 effectively present, or, in other words, appetite for 
 
 the sweet is there then, though lha former train of 
 
 faM reasoning bids you avoid this, appetite moves you [to 
 
 * QvffiKws, by arguments based upon the special nature of the 
 subject-matter, opposed to XoyiK&s, by arguments of a general nature ; 
 accordingly, in what follows both the elements of reason and desire 
 are taken into account. 
 
 f In a practical syllogism. 
 
 Notice that ^5i here corresponds to yevevecu 5e? above. 
 
3, 9-13.] INCONTINENCE. 219 
 
 take it] ; for appetite is able to put the several bodily 
 organs in motion. 
 
 And thus it appears that it is in a way under the 
 influence of reason, that is to say of opinion, that 
 people act incontinently opinion, too, that is, not in 
 itself, but only accidentally, opposed to right reason. 
 
 11 For it is the desire, not the opinion, that is opposed 
 to rightrejison.* 
 
 ^"TSiid this is the reason why brutes cannot be 
 incontinent ; they have no universal judgments, but 
 only images and memories of particular facts. 
 
 12 As to the process by which the incontinent man 
 gets out of this ignorance and recovers his knowledge, 
 the account of it will be the same as in the case of a 
 man who is drunk or asleep, and will not be peculiar 
 to this phenomenon ; and for such an account we must 
 go to the professors of natural science. 
 
 13 But since the minor premise f is an opinion or 
 judgment about a fact of perception, and determines 
 action, the incontinent man, when under the influence 
 of passion, either has it not, or has it in a sense 
 in which, as we explained, having is equivalent, 
 
 * The minor premise, " this is sweet," obviously is not " opposed to 
 right reason ; " but is not the major premise ? In one of the two 
 forms in which it here appears, viz. " all sweet things are pleasant," 
 it certainly is not so opposed ; it merely states a fact of experience 
 which the continent or temperate man assents to as much as the 
 incontinent. In its other form, however, "all sweet things are to be 
 tasted," the judgment is "opposed to right reason;" but it is so 
 because desire for an object condemned by reason has been added ; 
 and thus it may be said that it is not the opinion, but the desire, 
 which is opposed to right reason. It is a defect in the exposition 
 here that the difference between these two forms of the major pre- 
 mise is nob more expressly noticed. 
 
 f Of the syllogism which would forbid him to taste. 
 
220 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VII.' 
 
 not to knowing in the full sense, but to repeating 
 words as a drunken man repeats the sayings of Em- 
 pedocles. 
 
 And thus, since the minor premise is not universal, 
 and is thought to be less a matter of knowledge than 
 the universal judgment [or major premise], it seems 
 that what Socrates sought to establish really is the 14 
 case ; * for when passion carries a man away, what is 
 present to his mind is not what is regarded as know- 
 ledge in the strict sense, nor is it such knowledge 
 that is perverted by his passion, but sensitive know- 
 ledge merely, f 
 
 4. So much, then, for the question whether the i 
 incontinent man knows or not, and in what sense it 
 possible to act incontinently with knowledge. We 
 next have to consider whether a man can be 
 incontinent simply, or only incontinent in some 
 particular way, J and, if the former be the case, what 
 is the field in which the character is manifested. 
 
 It is evident that it is in the matter of pleasures 
 and pains that both continent and hardy and 
 incontinent and soft men manifest their characters. 
 
 Of the sources of pleasure, some are necessary, and 2 
 others are desirable in themselves but admit of 
 excess : " necessary " are the bodily processes, such 
 
 * Eeading full stop after 'E/xTre&o/cAe'ous and comma after Spov. 
 
 t Or the perception of the particular fact. After all Socrates is 
 right: the incontinent man does not really know; the fact does 
 not come home to him in its true significance : he says it is bad, 
 but says it as an actor might, without feeling it j what he realizes is 
 that it is pleasant. 
 
 J As a man may be greedy (OTTAWS), or greedy for a particular 
 kind of food. 
 
3, 14-4, 3.] INCONTINENCE. 221 
 
 as nutrition, the propagation of the species, and 
 other bodily processes, with which we said that 
 profligacy and temperance have to do ; others, though 
 not necessary, are in themselves desirable, such as 
 victory, honour, wealth, and other things of the kind 
 that are good and pleasant.* 
 
 Now, those who go to excess in these latter in 
 spite of their own better reason are not called in- 
 continent simply, but with a qualifying epithet, as 
 incontinent with respect to money, or gain, or honour, 
 or anger not simply, since they are different 
 characters, and only called incontinent in virtue of a 
 resemblance -just as the victor in the last 'Olympic 
 games was called a man; for though the meaning 
 of the name as applied to him was but slightly 
 different from its common meaning, still it was 
 different.! 
 
 And this may be proved thus : incontinence is 
 blamed, not simply as a mistake, but as a kind of 
 vice, either of vice simply, or of some particular vice ; 
 but those who are thus incontinent [in the pursuit of 
 wealth, etc.] are not thus blamed. 
 
 But of the characters that manifest themselves in 
 the matter of bodily enjoyments, with which we say 
 the temperate and the profligate are concerned, he 
 
 * Called also air\S>s ayaOd, "good in themselves," as in V. 1, 9 
 (cf. V. 2, 6), and e'/crbs ayaOd, " external goods," as in I. 8, 2. 
 
 f As we do not know the facts to which Aristotle alludes we can 
 only conjecture his meaning. It may be that the man in question 
 had certain physical peculiarities, so that though he " passed for a 
 man " he was not quite a man in the common meaning of the name. 
 So Locke asks (Essay iv. 10, 13), " Is a changeling a man or a 
 beast ? " 
 
222 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK TIT. 
 
 who goes to excess in pursuing what is pleasant and 
 avoiding what is painful, in the matter of hunger 
 and thirst, and heat and cold, and all things that 
 affect us by touch or taste, and who does this not 
 of deliberate choice, but contrary to his deliberate 
 choice and reasoning, is called incontinent not 
 with the addition that he is incontinent with re- 
 spect to this particular thing, as anger, but simply 
 incontinent. 
 
 A proof of this is that people are also called soft 4 
 in these latter matters, but not in any of the former 
 [honour, gain, etc.]. 
 
 And on this account we group the incontinent 
 with the profligate and the continent and the 
 temperate (but do not class with them any of those 
 who are metaphorically called continent and incon- 
 tinent), because they are in a way concerned with the 
 same pleasures and pains. They are, in fact, con- 
 cerned with the same matters, but their behaviour is 
 different; for whereas the other three deliberately 
 choose what they do, the incontinent man does not. 
 
 And so a man who, without desire, or with only 
 a moderate desire, pursues excess of pleasure, and 
 avoids even slight pains, would more properly be 
 called profligate than one who is impelled so to act 
 by violent desires ; for what would the former do if 
 the violent passions of youth were added, and if it 
 were violent pain to him to forego the satisfaction of 
 his natural appetites ? 
 
 But some of our desires and pleasures are to be 5 
 classed as noble and good; for of the things that 
 please us, some are naturally desirable (others being 
 
4, 4-6.1 INCONTINENCE. 223 
 
 the reverse of this, and others, again, between the 
 two, as we explained before*), such as money and 
 gain and victory and honour. With regard both to 
 these, then, and to the intermediate class [of things 
 indifferent], men are blamed not for being affected 
 by them, or desiring them, or caring for them, but 
 only for exceeding the bounds of moderation in 
 certain ways. 
 
 So we blame those who are moved by, or pursue, 
 some good and noble object to an unreasonable extent, 
 as, for instance, those who care too much for honour, 
 or for their children or parents: for these, too, are 
 noble objects, and men are praised for caring about 
 them ; but still one might go too far in them also, if 
 one were to fight even against the gods, like Niobe, or 
 to do as did Satyrus, who was nicknamed Philopator 
 from his affection for his father for he seemed to 
 carry his affection to the pitch of folly. 
 
 In these matters, then, there is no room for vice 
 or wickedness for the reason mentioned, viz. that all 
 these are objects that are in themselves desirable ; but 
 excess in them is not commendable, and is to be 
 avoided. 
 
 Similarly, in these matters there is no room for in- 
 continence [strictly so called] ; for incontinence is not 
 only to be avoided, but is actually blamable. But 
 because of the similarity of the state of mind we do 
 here use the term incontinence with a qualification, 
 saying " incontinent in this or in that," just as we 
 apply the term " bad physician " or " bad actor " to a 
 
 * Supra, 2; though there only two divisions are specified, 
 Tiz. (1) necessary, (2) desirable but admitting of excess. 
 
224 NICOMACHEAN ETIJICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 man whom we should not call bad simply or without 
 a qualifying epithet. Just as in the latter case, then, 
 the term badness or vice is applied, not simply, but 
 with a qualification, because each of these qualities is 
 not a vice strictly, but only analogous to a vice, so in 
 this case also it is plain that we must understand \ 
 that only to be strictly incontinence (or continence) 
 which is manifested in those matters with which 
 temperance and profligacy are concerned, while that 
 which is manifested with regard to anger is only 
 metaphorically called so ; and therefore we call a 
 man " incontinent in anger," as " in honour " or " in 
 gain," adding a qualifying epithet. 
 
 5. While some things are naturally pleasant (of 1 
 which some are pleasant in themselves, others pleasant 
 to certain classes of animals or men), other things, 
 though not naturally pleasant, come to be pleasant 
 (1) through organic injuries, or (2) through custom, 
 or again (3) through an originally bad nature . and 
 in each of these three classes of things a correspond- 
 ing character is manifested. 
 
 For instance [taking (3) first], there are the brutal 2 
 characters, such as the creature in woman's shape 
 that is said to rip up pregnant females and devour 
 the embryos, or the people who take delight, as some 
 of the wild races about the Black Sea are said to 
 take delight, in such things as eating raw meat or 
 human flesh, or giving their children to one another 
 to feast upon ; or, again, in such things as are reported 
 of Phalaris. 
 
 These, then, are what we call brutal natures 3 
 [corresponding to (3) ] : but in other cases the dis- . 
 
5, 1-5.] INCONTINENCE. 225 
 
 position is engendered by disease or madness ; for 
 instance, there was the man who slew and ate his 
 mother, and that other who devoured the liver of 
 his fellow-slave [and these correspond to (1)]. 
 
 Other habits are either signs of a morbid state, 
 or the result of custom [and so come either under 
 
 (1) or under (2)]; e.g. plucking out the hair and biting 
 the nails, or eating cinders and earth, or, again, the 
 practice of unnatural vice ; for these habits sometimes 
 come naturally,* sometimes by custom, as in the case 
 of those who have been ill treated from their childhood. 
 
 Whenever nature is the cause of these morbid 
 habits, no one would think of applying the term 
 incontinence, any more than we should call women 
 incontinent for the part they play in the propagation 
 of the species ; nor should we apply the term to those 
 who, by habitual indulgence, have brought themselves 
 into a morbid state, f 
 
 Habits of this kind, then, fall without the pale 
 of vice, just as the brutal character does ; but when 
 a man who has these impulses conquers or is con- 
 quered by them, this is not to be called [continence 
 or] incontinence strictly, but only metaphorically, 
 just as the man who behaves thus in the matter 
 of his angry passions cannot be strictly called in- 
 
 * i.e. here " by disease : " <j>v<ris bears three different senses in 
 the space of a few lines (1) in 1, beginning, natural = in accord- 
 ance with the true nature of the thing, the thing as it ought to be j 
 
 (2) in 1, end, natural = what a man is born with, as opposed to 
 subsequent modifications of this ; (3) in 3 natural includes what 
 my body does by powers in it over which I have no control, e.g. 
 modifications of my nature produced by disease. 
 
 t Because incontinence is a human weakness ; these acts are 
 brutal or morbid. 
 
 Q 
 
226 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VIT 
 
 continent. For even folly, and cowardice, and pro- 
 fligacy, and ill temper, whenever they are carried 
 beyond a certain pitch, are either brutal or morbid. 
 When a man is naturally so constituted as to be 6 
 frightened at anything, even at the sound of a mouse, 
 his cowardice is brutal [inhuman] ; but in the well- 
 known case of a man who was afraid of a weasel, 
 disease was th,e cause. And of irrational human 
 beings, those who by nature are devoid of reason, 
 and live only by their senses, are to be called brutal, 
 as some races of remote barbarians, while those in 
 whom the cause is disease (e.g. epilepsy) or insanity 
 are to be called morbidly irrational. 
 
 Again, a man may on occasion have one of these 7 
 impulses without being dominated by it, as, for 
 instance, if Phalaris on some occasion desired to eat 
 the flesh of a child, or to indulge his unnatural lusts, 
 and yet restrained himself; and, again, it is possible 
 not only to have the impulse, but to be dominated 
 by it. 
 
 To conclude, then : as in the case of vice there is 8 
 a human vice that is called vice simply, and another 
 sort that is called with a qualifying epithet " brutal " 
 or " morbid vice " (not simply vice), so also it is plain 
 that there is a sort of incontinence that is called 
 brutal, and another that is called morbid incontinence, 
 while that only is called incontinence simply which 
 can be classed with human profligacy. 
 
 "We have thus shown that incontinence and con- 9 
 tinence proper have to do only with those things 
 with which profligacy and temperance have to do, 
 and that in other matters there is a sort of incon- 
 
5, 6-6, 2.] INCONTINENCE. 227 
 
 tinence to which the name is applied metaphorically 
 and with a qualifying epithet. 
 
 6. The next point we have to consider is thati 
 
 I in anger le 
 
 incontinence in anger is less disgraceful than incon-l^ e ' d tha 
 tinence in appetite. 
 
 The angry passions seem to hear something of 
 what reason says, but to mis-hear it, like a hasty 
 servant who starts off before he has heard all you 
 are saying, and so mistakes his errand, or like a dog 
 that barks so soon as he hears a noise, without wait- 
 ing to find out if it be a friend. Just so our angry 
 passions, in the heat and haste of their nature, hear- 
 ing something but not hearing what reason orders, 
 make speed to take vengeance. For when reason or 
 imagination announces an insult or slight, the angry 
 passion infers, so to speak, that its author is to be 
 treated as an enemy, and then straightway boils up ; 
 appetite, on the other hand, if reason or sense do but 
 proclaim " this is pleasant," rushes to enjoy it. Thus 
 anger, in some sort, obeys reason, which appetite does 
 not. The latter, therefore, is the more disgraceful; 
 for he who is incontinent in anger succumbs in some 
 sort to reason, while the other succumbs not to reason, . 
 but to appetite. 
 
 Again, when impulses are natural, it is more 
 excusable to follow them (for even with our appetites 
 it is more pardonable to follow them when they are 
 common to all men, and the more pardonable the 
 commoner they are) ; but anger and ill temper are 
 more natural than desire for excessive and unneces- 
 sary pleasures, as we see in the story of the man who 
 excused himself for beating his father. " He beat his 
 
228 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 own father," he said, " and that father beat his, and 
 my son here," pointing to his child, "will beat me 
 when he is a man ; for it runs in the family." And 
 there is that other story of the man who was being 
 dragged out of the house by his son, and bade him 
 stop at the doorway; for he had dragged his own 
 father so far, but no further. 
 
 Again, the more a man is inclined to deliberate 3 
 malice, the more unjust he is. Now, the hot-tem- 
 pered man is not given to deliberate malice, nor is 
 anger of that underhand nature, but asserts itself 
 openly. But of appetite we may say what the 
 poets say of Aphrodite : " Craft- weaving daughter of 
 Cyprus ; " or what Homer says of her " embroidered 
 girdle," 
 
 " Whose charm doth steal the reason of the wise." * 
 
 If then this incontinence be more unjust, it is more 
 disgraceful than incontinence in anger, and is to be 
 called incontinence simply, and a sort of vice. 
 
 Again, when a man commits an outrage, he does 4 
 not feel pain in doing it, but rather pleasure, while 
 he who acts in anger always feels pain as he is 
 acting. If then the acts which rouse the justest in- 
 dignation are the more unjust, it follows that incon- 
 tinence in appetite is more unjust [than incontinence 
 in anger] ; for such outrage is never committed in 
 anger.j 
 
 Thus it is plain that incontinence in appetite is 5 
 
 * II., xiv. 214, 217. 
 
 t e.g. cruelty in the heat of battle rouses less indignation than 
 ill-treatment of women afterwards. For a similar reason profligacy 
 was said (III. 12) to be worse than cowardice. 
 
6, 3-7.] INCONTINENCE. 229 
 
 more disgraceful than incontinence in anger, and that 
 continence and incontinence proper have to do with 
 bodily appetites and pleasures. 
 
 But -now let us see what differences we find in 
 these bodily appetites and pleasures. 
 
 As we said at the outset, some of them are human 
 and natural in kind and degree ; others are signs of 
 a brutal nature ; others, again, are the result of 
 organic injury or disease. 
 
 Now, it is with the first of these only that tem- 
 perance and profligacy have to do : and for this 
 reason we do not call beasts either temperate or 
 profligate, except it be metaphorically, if we find a 
 whole class of animals distinguished from others 
 by peculiar lewdness and wantonness and voracity ; 
 for there is no purpose or deliberate calculation in 
 what they do, but they are in an unnatural state, 
 like madmen. 
 
 Brutality is less dangerous than vice, but more 
 horrible ; for the noble part is not corrupted here, as 
 in a man who is merely vicious in a human way, but 
 is altogether absent. To ask which is worse, then, 
 would be like comparing inanimate things with 
 animate : the badness of that which lacks the origi- 
 nating principle is always less mischievous ; and 
 reason [which the brutal man lacks] is here the origi- 
 nating principle. (To compare these, then, would be 
 like comparing injustice with an unjust man : each 
 is in its own way the worse.*) For a bad man 
 
 * This comparison is rendered superfluous by the preceding one 
 (which probably was meant to be substituted for it), and is not very 
 apt as it stands. We should rather expect irpbs rb &8tKov : the sense 
 would then be, "injustice is morally worse than an unjust act which 
 
230 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 would do ten thousand times as much harm as a 
 
 brute. 
 
 incontinence 7, With regard to the pleasures and pains of touch l 
 pleasure, and taste, and the corresponding desires and aver- 
 TWO sions, which we before marked out as the field of 
 
 incontinence, profligacy and temperance, it is possible to be so 
 and the disposed as to succumb to allurements which most 
 
 weak. 
 
 people resist, or so as to resist allurements to which 
 most people succumb. When they are exhibited in 
 the matter of pleasures, the former of these characters 
 is called incontinent and the latter continent ; when 
 they are exhibited in the matter of pains, the former 
 is called soft and the latter hardy. The character of 
 the general run of men falls between these two, 
 inclining perhaps rather to the worse. 
 
 But since some pleasures are necessary, while 2 
 others are not, and since the necessary pleasures are 
 necessary in certain quantities only, but not in too 
 great nor yet in too small quantities, and since the 
 same is true of appetites and of pains, he who pur- 
 sues pleasures that fall beyond the pale of legitimate 
 pleasures, or pursues any pleasures to excess,* is 
 called profligate, if he pursues them of deliberate 
 purpose for their own sake and not for any result 
 
 does not proceed from an unjust character, but the latter may be a 
 worse evil ; " e.g. humanity has suffered more by well-meaning per- 
 secutors than by the greatest villains. Cf. V. 11, 8. 
 
 * This distinction may be illustrated by the distinction which 
 opinion in England draws between opium-smoking and tobacco- smok- 
 ing. Opium-smoking is commonly regarded by us as a farcp/JoA^, aa 
 a pleasure that in any degree is beyond the pale of legitimate 
 pleasures ; a man who is too much given to tobacco-smoking is 
 regarded as pursuing a0' u7rep/3oAas (in excess) a pleasure which in 
 moderation is legitimate. 
 
7, 1-5.] INCONTINENCE. 231 
 
 which follows from them ; * for such a man must be in- 
 capable of remorse must be incurable therefore ; for 
 he who feels no remorse is incurable. In the opposite 
 extreme is he who falls short of the mean (while he 
 who observes the mean is temperate). So with the 
 man who avoids bodily pains, not because he is 
 momentarily overcome, but of deliberate purpose. 
 
 But those who act thus without deliberate pur- 
 pose may do so either to gain pleasure or to escape 
 the pain of desire, and we must accordingly distinguish 
 these from one another. 
 
 But all would allow that a man who does some- 
 thing disgraceful without desire, or with only a 
 moderate desire, is worse than if he had a violent 
 desire ; and that if a man strike another in cool blood 
 he is worse than if he does it in anger; for what 
 would he do if he were in a passion ? The profligate 
 man, therefore, is worse than the incontinent. 
 
 Of the characters mentioned, then, we must 
 distinguish softness from profligacy. 
 
 The continent character is opposed to the incon- 
 tinent, and the hardy to the soft; for hardiness 
 implies that you endure, while continence implies 
 that you overcome, and enduring is different from 
 overcoming, just as escaping a defeat is different 
 from winning a victory ; so continence is better than 
 hardiness. 
 
 But he that gives way to what the generality of 
 men can and do resist is soft and luxurious (for 
 luxury, too, is a kind of softness), the sort of man 
 that suffers his cloak to trail along the ground rather 
 
 * Reading ci instead of ^. 
 
232 N1COMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 than be at the pains to pull it up ; that plays the 
 invalid, and yet does not consider himself wretched, 
 though it is a wretched man that he imitates. 
 
 Similarly with continence and incontinence. If 6 
 a man give way to violent and excessive pleasures or 
 pains, we do not marvel, but are ready to pardon him 
 if he struggled, like Philoctetes when bitten by the 
 viper in the play of Theodectes, or Cercyon in the 
 Alope of Carcinus ; or like people who, in trying to 
 restrain their laughter, burst out into a violent explo- 
 sion, as happened to Xenophantus. But we do 
 marvel when a man succumbs to and cannot resist 
 what the generality of men are able to hold out 
 against, unless the cause be hereditary disposition 
 or disease (e.g. softness is hereditary in the Scythian 
 kings, and the female is naturally softer than the 
 male). 
 
 The man that is given up to amusement is gene- 7 
 rally thought to be profligate, but in fact he is soft ; 
 for amusement is relaxation, since it is a rest from 
 labour ; and among those who take too much relaxa- ' 
 tion are those who are given up to amusement. 
 
 There are two kinds of incontinence, the hasty and 8 
 the weak. Some men deliberate, but, under the in- 
 fluence of passion, do not abide by the result of their 
 deliberations ; others are swayed by passion because 
 they do not deliberate ; for as there are people who 
 cannot be tickled if they are prepared for it, so there 
 are people who when they see what is coming, and 
 are forewarned and rouse themselves and their reason, 
 are able to resist the impulse, whether it be pleasant 
 or painful. People of quick sensibility or of a inelan- 
 
7, 6-8, 2.] INCONTINENCE. 233 
 
 cholic temperament are most liable to incontinence of 
 the hasty sort ; such people do not wait to hear the 
 voice of reason, because, in the former case through the 
 rapidity, in the latter case through the intensity of their 
 impressions, they are apt to follow their imagination. 
 
 8, Again, a profligate man, as we said, is not given incontinence 
 to remorse, for he abides by his deliberate purpose ; with vice 
 
 . J r ' and virtue. 
 
 but an incontinent man is always apt to feel remorse. 
 So the case is not as it was put in one of the difficul- 
 ties we enumerated,* but the former is incurable, the 
 latter is curable. For full-formed vice [profligacy] 
 seems to be like such diseases as dropsy or consump- 
 tion, incontinence like epilepsy; for the former is 
 chronic, the latter intermittent badness. 
 
 Indeed, we may roundly say that incontinence is 
 generically different from vice; for the vicious man 
 knows not, but the incontinent man knows, the nature 
 of his acts.f 
 
 But of these incontinent characters, those who 
 momentarily lose their reason are not so bad as those 
 who retain their reason but disobey it;J for the latter 
 give way to a slighter impulse, and cannot, like the 
 former, be said to act without deliberation. For an 
 incontinent man is like one who gets drunk quickly 
 and with little wine, i.e. with less than most men. 
 
 * Of. supra, 2, 10, 11. 
 
 f The incontinent man, when the fit is over and the better part 
 of him reasserts itself (cf. 5) , recognizes the badness of his act > 
 but the vicious man, though he is aware that his acts are called bad, 
 dissents from the judgments of society (cf. 9, 7), and so may be 
 said not to know : cf. III. 1, 12. 
 
 J The weak (do-flf^) are worse than the hasty (irpoTrJere^ : cf. 
 supra, 7, 8. 
 
234 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [Bn. VII. 
 
 We have seen that incontinence is not vice, but 3 
 perhaps we may say that it is in a manner vice. The 
 difference is that the vicious man acts with deliberate 
 purpose, while the incontinent man acts against it. 
 But in spite of this difference their acts are similar ; 
 as Demodocus said against the Milesians, "The 
 Milesians are not fools, but they act like fools." So an 
 incontinent man is not unjust, but he acts unjustly. 
 
 It is the character of the incontinent man to 4 
 pursue, without being convinced of their goodness, 
 bodily pleasures that exceed the bounds of moderation 
 and are contrary to right reason ; but the profligate 
 man is convinced that these things are good because it 
 is his character to pursue them : the former, then, may 
 be easily brought to a better mind, the latter not. For 
 virtue preserves, but vice destroys the principle ; but 
 in matters of conduct the motive [end or final cause] 
 is the principle [beginning or efficient cause] of action, 
 holding the same place here that the hypotheses do in 
 mathematics.* In mathematics no reasoning or de- 
 monstration can instruct us about these principles or 
 starting points ; so here it is not reason but virtue, 
 either natural or acquired by training, that teaches 
 us to hold right opinions about the principle of 
 action. A man of this character, then, is temperate, 
 while a man of opposite character is profligate. 
 
 But there is a class of people who are apt to be 5 
 momentarily deprived of their right senses by passion, 
 and who are swayed by passion so far as not to act 
 
 * i.e. the definitions ; not the axioms, since in Aristotle's 
 language a vir6de<ris, strictly speaking, involves the assumption of 
 the existence of a corresponding object. 
 
8, 3-9, 2.] INCONTINENCE. 235 
 
 according to reason, but not so far that it has become 
 part of their nature to believe that they ought to 
 pursue pleasures of this kind without limit. These 
 are the incontinent, who are better than the profli- 
 gate, and not absolutely bad ; for the best part of our 
 nature, the principle of right conduct, still survives in 
 them. 
 
 To these are opposed another class of people who 
 are wont to abide by their resolutions, and not to be 
 deprived of their senses by passion at least. It is 
 plain from this, then, that the latter is a good type of 
 character, the former not good. 
 
 9. Now, who is to be called continent ? he who continence 
 abides by any kind of reason and any kind of purpose, 
 
 or he who abides by a right purpose ? And who is to 
 be called incontinent? is it he who abandons any 
 kind of purpose and any kind of reason ? is even he 
 who abandons a false reason and a wrong purpose to 
 be called incontinent ? a difficulty which we raised 
 before.* Is it not the case that though " accidentally " 
 it may be any kind, yet " essentially " it is a true 
 reason and a right purpose that the one abides by 
 and the other abandons ? For if you choose or pursue 
 A for the sake of B, you pursue and choose B 
 " essentially," but A " accidentally." But by " essen- 
 tially " (ca0' auro) we mean " absolutely " or " simply " 
 (aTrXwc) ; so that we may say that in a certain sense 
 it may be any kind of opinion, but absolutely or 
 simply it is a true opinion that the one abides by 
 and the other abandons. 
 
 But there is another class of persons that are apt 
 
 * Cf. supra, 2, 7-9. 
 
236 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [Bfc. VII. 
 
 to stick to their opinions (I mean those whom we call 
 stubborn or obstinate), because they are averse to per- 
 suasion and not readily induced to change their mind. 
 These bear some resemblance to the continent, as the 
 prodigal does to the liberal, and the foolhardy to the 
 courageous, but in many respects are different. For 
 it is changing his mind at the prompting of passion or 
 appetite that the continent man dislikes ; he is ready 
 enough on occasion to yield to reason : but it is to 
 reason especially that the obstinate man will not 
 listen, while he often conceives a passion, and is led 
 about by his pleasures. 
 
 The opinionated, the ignorant, and the boorish are 3 
 all obstinate the opinionated from motives of pleasure 
 and pain; for they delight in the sense of victory 
 when they hold out against argument, and are pained 
 if their opinion comes to naught like a decree that 
 is set aside. They resemble the incontinent man, 
 therefore, rather than the continent. 
 
 Sometimes also people abandon their resolutions 4 
 from something else than incontinence, as, for instance, 
 Neoptolemus in the Philoctetes of Sophocles. It may 
 be said, indeed, that pleasure was his motive in aban- 
 doning his resolution : but it was a noble pleasure ; 
 for truth was fair in his eyes, but Ulysses had persuaded 
 him to lie. For he who acts with pleasure for motive 
 is not always either profligate, or worthless, or in- 
 continent, but only when his motive is a base 
 pleasure. 
 
 Again, there are people whose character it is to 5 
 take too little delight in the pleasures of the body, and 
 who by reason of this character swerve from reason ; 
 
9, 3-10, 1.] INCONTINENCE. 237 
 
 and between these and the incontinent come the con- 
 tinent. For while the incontinent swerve from reason 
 because of an excess, and these because of a deficiency, 
 the continent man holds fast and is not turned aside 
 by the one or the other. 
 
 But if continence be a good thing, the characters 
 that are opposed to it must be bad, as in fact they 
 evidently are ; only, since the other extreme is found 
 but rarely and in few cases, incontinence comes to 
 be regarded as the only opposite of continence, just 
 as profligacy comes to be regarded as the only oppo- 
 site of temperance. 
 
 We often apply names metaphorically ; and so we 
 come to speak metaphorically of the continence of 
 the temperate man. For it is the nature both of the 
 continent and of the temperate man never to do 
 anything contrary to reason for the sake of bodily 
 pleasures ; but whereas the former has, the latter has 
 not bad desires, and whereas the latter is of such a 
 nature as to take no delight in what is contrary to 
 reason, the former is of such a nature as to take 
 delight in, but not to be swayed by them. 
 
 The incontinent and the profligate also resemble 
 each other, though they are different: both pursue 
 bodily pleasures, but the latter pursues them on 
 principle,* while the former does not. 
 
 10. It is impossible for the same man to be at once Prudence is 
 
 not, but 
 
 prudent and incontinent : for we have shown that a cleverness is, 
 
 compatible 
 
 man cannot be prudent without being at the same 
 time morally good. 
 
 * Literally, thinking that he ought (oU^vos Sew) j i.e. adopting 
 them as his end. 
 
238 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 Moreover, a man is not made prudent by merely 2 
 knowing, but also by being apt to act, and the in- 
 continent man is not apt to act [as lie resolves]. But 
 there is nothing to prevent a man who is clever at 
 calculating means from being incontinent; and so 
 people sometimes think a man prudent and yet in- 
 continent, because this cleverness is related to 
 prudence in the manner before * explained, and as far 
 as reason goes they are closely allied, though they 
 differ in purpose. 
 
 The incontinent man, however, has knowledge, 3 
 not as one who knows in the sense of using his know- 
 ledge, but as one may know who is asleep or drunk. 
 
 He acts voluntarily (for in a manner he knows 
 what he is doing and with what object), and yet is 
 not bad : for his purpose is good ; so he is only half 
 bad. Moreover, incontinent men are not unjust,t for 
 they are not deliberately malicious some of them 
 being apt to swerve from their deliberate resolutions, 
 others of melancholic temper and apt to act without 
 deliberating at all. An incontinent man, then, may 
 be compared to a state which always makes excellent 
 decrees and has good laws, but never carries them 
 out ; as Anaxandrides jestingly says 
 
 " So willed the state that takes no heed of laws." 
 
 The bad man, on the contrary, may be compared to a 4 
 state that carries out its laws, but has bad laws. 
 
 * Of. supra, VI. 12, 9. 
 
 t Though they do what is unjust or wrong. It must be remem- 
 bered that above (V. 1, 12-end) it was laid down that all vicious 
 action, when viewed in relation to others, is unjust (in the wider 
 sense of the term). 
 
10, 2-11, 3.] OF PLEASURE. 239 
 
 Both incontinence and continence imply some- 
 thing beyond the average character of men ; for the 
 one is more steadfast than most men can be, the other 
 less. 
 
 Of the several kinds of incontinence, that of the 
 melancholic temper is more curable than that of those 
 who make resolutions but do not keep them, and that 
 which proceeds from custom than that which rests on 
 natural infirmity : it is easier to alter one's habit 
 than to change one's nature. For the very reason 
 why habits are hard to change is that they are a sort 
 of second nature, as Euenus says 
 
 " Train men but long enough to what yon will, 
 And that shall be their nature in the end." 
 
 We have now considered the nature of continence 
 and incontinence, of hardiness and softness, and the 
 relation of these types of character to each other. 
 
 CHAPTEKS 11 14. OF PLEASUEE. 
 
 11. The consideration of pleasure and pain also we must 
 falls within the scope of the political philosopher, p 
 since he has to construct the end by reference to 
 which we call everything good or bad. 
 
 Moreover, this is one of the subjects we are bound 
 to discuss ; for we said that moral virtue and vice 
 have to do with pleasures and pains, and most people 
 say that happiness implies pleasure, which is the 
 reason of the name fiaicapios, blessed, from xatpeiv, to 
 rejoice. 
 
 Now, (1) some people think that no pleasure is 
 
240 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 good, either essentially or accidentally, for they say 
 that good and pleasure are two distinct things ; (2) 
 others think that though some pleasures are good 
 most are bad; (3) others, again, think that even 
 though all pleasures be good, yet it is impossible that 
 the supreme good can be pleasure. 
 
 (1) It is argued that pleasure cannot be good, (<t) 4 
 because all pleasure is a felt transition to a natural 
 state, but a transition or process is always generically 
 different from an end, e.g. the process of building is 
 generically different from a house ; (6) because the 
 temperate man avoids pleasures ; (c) because the pru- 
 dent man pursues the painless, not the pleasant ; (d) 
 because pleasures impede thinking, and that in pro- 
 portion to their intensity (for instance, the sexual 
 pleasures: no one engaged therein could think at all) ; 
 (e) because there is no art of pleasure, and yet every 
 good thing has an art devoted to its production ; (/) 
 because pleasure is the pursuit of children and brutes. 
 
 (2) It is argued that not all pleasures are good, 5 
 because some are base and disgraceful, and even 
 hurtful ; for some pleasant things are unhealthy. 
 
 (3) It is argued that pleasure is not the supreme 
 good, because it is not an end, but a process or 
 transition. 
 
 12. These, then, we may take to be the current 1 
 opinions on the subject; but that it does not follow 
 therefrom that pleasure is not good, or even the 
 highest good, may be shown as follows. 
 p pieafurenot In the first place, since "good" is used in two 
 senses ("good in itself" and "relatively good"), 
 natures and faculties will be called good in two 
 
11, 4-12, 2.] OF PLEASURE. 241 
 
 senses, and so also will motions and processes : and 
 when they are called bad, this sometimes means that 
 they are bad in themselves, though for particular 
 persons not bad but desirable ; sometimes that they 
 are bad in themselves and not desirable even for 
 particular persons, though desirable occasionally and 
 for a little time ; while some of them are not even 
 pleasures, though they seem to be I mean those that 
 involve pain and are used medicinally, such as those 
 of sick people. 
 
 In the second place, since the term good may be 
 applied both to activities and to faculties, those 
 activities that restore us to our natural faculties [or 
 state] are accidentally pleasant. 
 
 But in the satisfaction of the animal appetites 
 that which is active is [not that part which is in 
 want, but] the rest of our faculties or of our nature ; * 
 for there are pleasures which involve no previous 
 pain or appetite, such as the activity of philosophic 
 study, wherein our nature is not conscious of any 
 want. 
 
 This is corroborated by the fact that while our 
 natural wants are being filled we do not take delight 
 in the same things which delight us when that process 
 has been completed : when the want has been filled 
 we take delight in things that are pleasant in them- 
 selves, while it is being filled in their opposites ; for 
 we then take delight in sharp and bitter things, none 
 of which are naturally pleasant or pleasant in thena- 
 
 * Cf. infra, 14, 7. I have frequently in this chapter rendered 
 ?ts by faculty, in order to express the opposition to eVepyem, activity 
 or exercise of faculty j but no single word is satisfactory. 
 
 R 
 
242 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. YII. 
 
 selves. The pleasures, then, which these things give 
 are not real pleasures ; for pleasures are related to one 
 another as the things that produce them. 
 
 Again, it does not necessarily follow, as some 3 
 maintain, that there is something else better than 
 pleasure, as the end is better than the process or 
 transition to the end : for a pleasure is not a transi- 
 tion, nor does it always even imply a transition ; but 
 it is an activity [or exercise of faculty], and itself an 
 end : further, it is not in becoming something, but in 
 doing something that we feel pleasure : and, lastly, 
 the end is not always something different from the 
 process or transition, but it is only when something is 
 being brought to the completion of its nature that 
 this is the case. 
 
 For these reasons it is not proper to say that 
 pleasure is a felt transition, but rather that it is an 
 exercise of faculties that are in their natural state, 
 substituting " unimpeded " for " felt." 
 
 Some people, indeed, think that pleasure is a 
 transition, just because it is in the full sense good, 
 supposing that the exercise of faculty is a transition ; 
 but it is in fact something different.* 
 
 To urge, again, that some pleasures are bad, because 4 
 some pleasant things are unhealthy, is like arguing 
 that some things that are healthy are bad for money 
 making. Both indeed are bad in this sense, but that 
 
 * The argument in full would be thus : pleasure is good ; but 
 good is exercise of faculty (eWpyeza), and this is a process or transi- 
 tion (yfveais) ; .*. pleasure is a transition. But according to 
 Aristotle the highest evepyeia involves no transition or motion at all 
 (cf. 14, 8), and in every true evepyna, even when a transition is in- 
 volved, the end is attained at every moment. <?/. Met. ix. 6. 1048 b . 
 
12, 3-13, 1.] OF PLEASURE. 243 
 
 does not make them bad in themselves : even philo- 
 sophic study is sometimes bad for one's health. 
 
 As to pleasure being an impediment to thinking, 
 the fact is that neither prudence nor any other faculty - 
 is impeded by the pleasure proper to its exercise, but 
 by other pleasures ; the pleasure derived from study 
 and learning will make us study and learn more. 
 
 That there should be no art devoted to the pro- 
 duction of any kind of pleasure, is but natural ; for 
 art never produces an activity, but only makes it 
 possible : the arts of perfumery aricTcookery, however, 
 anT usually considered to be arts of pleasure. 
 
 As to the arguments that the temperate man 
 avoids pleasure, that the prudent man pursues the 
 painless life, and that children and brutes pursue 
 pleasure, they may all be met in the same way, viz. 
 thus : 
 
 As we have already explained in what sense all 
 pleasures are to be called good in themselves, and in 
 what sense not good, we need only say that pleasures 
 of a certain kind are pursued by brutes and by chil- 
 dren, and that freedom from the corresponding pains is 
 pursued by the prudent man the pleasures, namely, 
 that involve appetite and pain, i.e. the bodily pleasures 
 (for these do so), and excess in them, the deliberate 
 pursuit of which constitutes the profligate. These 
 pleasures, then, the temperate man avoids; but he 
 has pleasures of his own. 
 
 13. But all admit that pain is a bad thing and Pleasure * 
 
 good, and 
 
 undesirable: partly bad in itself, partly bad as in the pleasure 
 
 ' r J that consist* 
 
 some sort an impediment to activity. But that which j j*e 
 is opposed to what is undesirable, in that respect in activity < 
 
244 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 rrntgoo*. which it is undesirable and bad, is good. It follows, 
 then, that pleasure is a good thing. And this argu- 
 
 ment cannot be met, as Speusippus tried to meet it, 
 pleasures not by the analogy of the greater which is opposed to 
 pleasure*, the equal as well as to the less; for no one would 
 say that pleasure is essentially a bad thing.* 
 
 Moreover, there is no reason why a certain kind 2 
 of pleasure should not be the supreme good, even 
 though some kinds be bad, just as there is no reason 
 why a certain kind of knowledge should not be, 
 though some kinds be bad. Nay, perhaps we ought 
 rather to say that since every formed faculty admits 
 of unimpeded exercise, it follows that, whether hap- 
 piness be the exercise of all these faculties, or of 
 some one of them, that exercise must necessarily be 
 most desirable when unimpeded: but unimpeded 
 exercise of faculty is pleasure : a certain kind of plea- 
 sure, therefore, will be the supreme good, even though 
 most pleasures should turn out to be bad in themselves. 
 And on this account all men suppose that the 
 happy life is a pleasant one, and that happiness in- 
 volves pleasure : and the supposition is reasonable ; for 
 no exercise of a faculty is complete if it be impeded ; 
 but happiness we reckon among complete things; and 
 so, if he is to be happy, a man must have the goods 
 of the body and external goods and good fortune, 
 in order that the exercise of his faculties may not 
 
 * The argument is, " Pleasure is good because it is the opposite 
 of pain, which is evil." " No," says Speusippus ; " it is neither 
 pleasure nor pain, but the neutral state, which is opposite to both, 
 that is good." "No," replies Aristotle, "for then pleasure will be 
 bad." 
 
13, 2-7.] OF PLEASURE. 245 
 
 3 be impeded. And those who say that though a man 
 be put to the rack and overwhelmed by misfortune, 
 he is happy if only he be good, whether they know 
 it or not, talk nonsense. 
 
 4 Because fortune is a necessary condition, some 
 people consider good fortune to be identical with 
 happiness ; but it is not really so, for good fortune 
 itself, if excessive, is an impediment, and is then, 
 perhaps, no longer to be called good fortune; for 
 good fortune can only be defined by its relation to 
 happiness. 
 
 5 Again, the fact that all animals and men pursue 
 pleasure is some indication that it is in some way 
 the highest good : 
 
 " Not wholly lost can e'er that saying be 
 Which many peoples share." 
 
 6 But as the nature of man and the best develop- 
 ment of his faculties neither are nor are thought 
 to be the same for all, so the pleasure which men 
 pursue is not always the same, though all pursue 
 pleasure. Yet, perhaps, they do in fact pursue a 
 pleasure different from that which they fancy they 
 pursue and would say they pursue a pleasure which 
 is one and the same for all. For all beings have 
 something divine implanted in them by nature. 
 
 But bodily pleasures have come to be regarded 
 as the sole claimants to the title of pleasure, because 
 they are oftenest attained and are shared by all ; these 
 then, as the only pleasures they know, men fancy to 
 be the only pleasures that are. 
 
 7 But it is plain that unless pleasure that is, unim- 
 peded exercise of the faculties be good, we can no 
 
246 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 longer say that the happy man leads a pleasant life ; 
 for why should he need it if it be not good ? Nay, 
 he may just as well lead a painful life : for pain is 
 neither bad nor good, if pleasure be neither ; so why 
 should he avoid pain ? The life of the good man, 
 then, would be no pleasaiiter than others unless the 
 exercise of his faculties were pleasanter. 
 
 14. Those who say that though some pleasures i 
 nd' are very desirable to wit, noble pleasures the 
 tween pleasures of the body, with which the profligate is 
 concerned, are not desirable, should consider the 
 t" y nature of /these pleasures of the body. Why [if they 2 
 are bad] are the opposite pains bad ? for the opposite 
 of bad is good. Are we to say that the " necessary " 
 pleasures are good in the sense that what is not bad 
 is good ? or are they good up to a certain point ? 
 
 Those faculties and those motions or activities 
 which do not admit of excess beyond what is good,* 
 do not admit of excessive pleasure ; but those which 
 admit of excess admit also of excessive pleasure. 
 Now, bodily goods admit of excess, and the bad man 
 is bad because he pursues this excess, not merely 
 because he pursues the necessary pleasures ; for men 
 always take some delight in meat, and drink, and 
 the gratification of the sexual appetite, but not 
 always as they ought. But with pain the case is 
 revered: not merely the excess of pain, but pain 
 gen - to be avoided ;t for the opposite of exces- 
 
 * Virtuous faculties and activities (II. 6, 20) do not admit 
 of excess, because by their very nature they are right and occupy 
 the mean ; too much of them would be a contradiction in terms. 
 
 f 
 
14, 1-4.] OF PLEASURE. 
 
 247 
 
 sive pleasure is not painful, except to the man who 
 pursues the excess.* 
 
 But we ought to state not only the truth, but 
 also the cause of the error ; for this helps to produce 
 conviction, as, when something has been pointed out 
 to us which would naturally make that seem true 
 which is not, we are more ready to believe the truth. 
 And so we must say why it is that the bodily 
 pleasures seem more desirable. 
 
 First of all, then, it is because of its efficacy in 
 expelling pain, and because of the excessiveness of 
 the pain to which it is regarded as an antidote, that 
 men pursue excessive pleasure and bodily pleasure 
 generally. But these remedies produce an intense 
 feeling, and so are pursued, because they appear in 
 strong contrast to the opposite pain. 
 
 (The reasons why pleasure is thought to be not 
 good are two, as we said before: (1) some pleasures 
 are the manifestation of a nature that is bad either 
 from birth, as with brutes, or by habit, as with 
 bad men : (2) the remedial pleasures imply want > 
 and it is better to be in a [natural] state than in 
 a transition to such a state ; but these pleasures are 
 felt while a want in us is being filled up, and therefore 
 they are only accidentally good.f) 
 
 * Pain generally (oAws) is bad, to be avoided. 
 
 Objection : The pain of foregoing certain excessive pleasures 
 is not to be avoided. 
 
 Answer : The opposite of these excessive pleasures, i.e. the fore- 
 going them, is not painful to the virtuous man, but only to him who 
 Bets his heart upon them, i.e. to a vicious or incontinent man. 
 
 t As these words disturb the order of the argument, I have, 
 following Kamsaner, put them in brackets ; but I see no sufficient 
 reason for regarding them as spurious. 
 
248 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. VII. 
 
 Again, these pleasures are pursued because of 5 
 their intensity by those who are unable to take 
 delight in other pleasures; thus we see people make 
 themselves thirsty on purpose. When the pleasures 
 they pursue are harmless^jwe do not blarne^ them 
 (though when they are hurtful the pursuit is bad) ; for 
 they have no other sources of enjoyment, and the 
 neutral state is painful to many because of their 
 nature : for an animal is always labouring, as physical 
 science teaches, telling us that seeing and hearing is 
 labour and pain, only we are all used to it, as the 
 saying is. And thus in youth, because they are 6 
 growing, men are in a state resembling drunkenness ; 
 and youth is pleasant. But people of a melancholic 
 nature are always wanting something to restore their 
 balance ; for their bodies are always vexing them 
 because of their peculiar temperament, and they are 
 always in a state of violent desire. But pain is ex- 
 pelled either by the opposite pleasure or by any 
 pleasure, if it be sufficiently strong ; and this is the 
 reason why such men become profligate and worthless. 
 But pleasures that have no antecedent pain do not 
 admit of excess. These are the pleasures derived from 7 
 things that are naturally and not merely accidentally 
 pleasant. I call those things accidentally pleasant that 
 have a restorative effect ; for as the restoration cannot 
 take place unless that part of the system which remains 
 healthy be in some way active, the restoration itself 
 seems pleasant : but I call those things naturally plea- 
 sant that stimulate the activity of a healthy system.* 
 
 * Cf. supra, 12, 2. 
 
 I am sick and take medicine, hungry and take food (which 
 
14, 5-8.] OF PLEASURE. 249 
 
 8 But nothing can continue to give us uninter- 
 rupted pleasure, because our nature is not simple, 
 but contains a second element which makes us mortal 
 beings ; * so that if the one element be active in any 
 way, this is contrary to the nature of the other 
 clement, but when the two elements are in equili- 
 brium, what we do seems neither painful nor pleasant; 
 for if there were a being whose nature were simple, 
 the same activity would be always most pleasant to 
 him. And on this account God always enjoys one 
 simple pleasure; for besides the activity of move- 
 ment, there is also activity without movement, and 
 rest admits of truer pleasure than motion. But 
 change is "the sweetest of all things," as the poet 
 says, because of a certain badness in us : for just as 
 it is the bad man who is especially apt to change, 
 so is it the bad nature that needs change; for it 
 is neither simple nor good. 
 
 seems to be here included under medicine) ; but neither the drug 
 nor the food can of themselves cure me and restore the balance of 
 my system they must be assimilated (for the body is not like a jar 
 that can be filled merely by pouring water from another jar), i.e. part 
 of my system must remain in its normal state and operate in it3 
 normal manner. But this operation, this evepyeia TTJS Kara tyvffiv e|es, 
 is pleasure (by the definition given above, 12, 3), and in ignorance 
 of the-process we transfer the pleasure to the medicine and call it 
 pleasant. The w^akngss, of this accounj^is that it overlooks the 
 fact tha,^ though the medicmo cannot itself cure without* the 
 opcration-yf TTJS Kara fyvffiv e|es, yet on the other hand this e|iy, 
 this faculty, cannot operate in this manner without this stimulus ; 
 so that there seems to be no reason why the medicine, as setting 
 tip an tvepyeia TTJS Kara tyva'iv e|ea>y, should not itself be called <f>v<rft 
 7j5u. But the whole passage rests on the assumption that there can 
 be activity without stimulus, i.e. without want an assumption 
 which has become inconceivable to us. 
 * Cf. X. 7, 8. 
 
250 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VII. 
 
 We have now considered continence and incon- 
 tinence, and pleasure and pain, and have explained 
 what each is, and how some of them are good and 
 some bad. It remains to consider friendship. 
 
BOOK VIIL 
 
 FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 
 
 1 1. AFTER the foregoing, a discussion of friendship os* / 
 
 r friendship. 
 
 will naturally folio w, as it is a sort of virtue, or at Differences 
 
 J of opinion 
 
 least implies virtue, and is, moreover, most necessary ^out u. 
 to our life. For no one would care to live without 
 friends, though he had all other good things. Indeed, 
 it is when a man is rich, and has got power and 
 authority, that he seems most of all to stand in need of 
 friends ; for what is the use of all this prosperity if he 
 have no opportunity for benevolence, which is most 
 frequently and most commendably displayed towards 
 friends ? or how could his position be maintained and 
 preserved without friends ? for the greater it is, the 
 
 2 more is it exposed to danger. In poverty and all 
 other misfortunes, again, we regard our friends as our 
 only refuge. We need friends when we are young 
 to keep us from error, when we get old to tend upon 
 us and to carry out those plans which we have not 
 strength to execute ourselves, and in the prime of 
 life to help us in noble deeds "two together" [as 
 Homer says] ; for thus we are more efficient both in 
 thought and in action. 
 
 3 Love seems to be implanted by nature in the 
 parent towards the offspring, and in the offspring 
 
252 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 towards the parent, not only among men, but also 
 among birds and most animals; and in those of the 
 same race towards one another, among men especially 
 for which reason we commend those who love their 
 fellow-men. And when one travels one may see how 
 man is always akin to and dear to man. 
 
 Again, it seems that friendship is the bond that 4 
 holds states together, and that lawgivers are even 
 more eager to secure it than justice. For concord 
 bears a certain resemblance to friendship, and it 
 is concord that they especially wish to retain, and 
 dissension that they especially wish to banish as an 
 enemy. If citizens be friends, they have no need 
 of justice, but though they be just, they need friend- 
 ship or love also ; indeed, the completest realization w/ 
 of justice * seems to be the realization of friendship 
 or love also. 
 
 Moreover, friendship is not only an indispensable, 5 
 but also a beautiful or noble thing : for we commend 
 those who love their friends, and to have many 
 friends is thought to be a noble thing; and some 
 even think that a good man is the same as a friend.* 
 
 But there are not a few differences of opinion 6 
 about the matter. Some hold that it is a kind of 
 likeness, and that those who are like one another are 
 friends ; and this is the origin of " Like to like," and 
 "Birds of a feather flock together," J and other similar 
 sayings. Others, on the contrary, say that "two of 
 a trade never agree." 
 
 sc. rb tirieiKts : cf. V. 10, and VI. 11, 2. 
 t Cf. Plato, Rep., 334. J Literally, " Crow to crow." 
 
 Literally, " say that all who thus resemble one another are to 
 
1, 4-2, 1.] FRIENDSHIP OK LOVE. 253 
 
 Others go deeper into these questions, and into 
 the causes of the phenomena ; Euripides, for instance 
 says 
 
 " The parched earth loves the rain, 
 And the high heaven, with moisture laden, loves 
 Earthwards to fall." 
 
 Heraclitus also says, "Opposites fit together," and 
 "Out of discordant elements comes the fairest har- 
 mony," and " It is by battle that all things come into 
 the world." Others, and notably Empedocles, take 
 the opposite view, and say that like desires like. 
 
 Of these difficulties, all that refer to the constitu- 
 tion of the universe may be dismissed (for they do not 
 properly concern our present inquiry) ; but those that 
 refer to human nature, and are intimately connected 
 with man's character and affections, we will discuss 
 -as, for instance, whether friendship can exist in all 
 men, or whether it is impossible for men to be friends 
 if they are bad, and whether there be one form of 
 friendship or rather many. For those who suppose 
 that there is only one kind of friendship, because 
 it admits of degrees, go upon insufficient grounds. 
 Things that differ in kind may differ also in degree 
 (But we have already spoken about this point.*) 
 
 2, Perhaps these difficulties will be cleared up 
 
 oj friend- 
 
 we first ascertain what is the nature of the lovable. sfli p- 
 
 friendship 
 
 For it seems that we do not love anything, but defined. 
 only the lovable, and that the lovable is either 
 good or pleasant or useful. But useful would appear 
 
 one another like potters," alluding to the saying of Hesiod, 
 
 Kal Kfpa.fji.eus /ce/xzue? Kortu teal TCKTOVI reKTOw 
 m " Potter quarrels with potter, and carpenter with carpenter." 
 * See Ramsauer. 
 
254 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [Bs. VIII. 
 
 to mean that which helps us to get something good, 
 or some pleasure ; so that the good and the pleasant 
 only would be loved as ends. 
 
 Now, do men love what is good, or what is good \ 
 for themselves ? for there is sometimes a discrepancy 
 between these two, 
 
 The same question may be asked about the 
 pleasant: 
 
 It seems that each man loves what is good for 
 himself, and that, while the good is lovable in itself, 
 that is lovable to each man which is good for him. 
 It may be said that each man loves not what is 
 really good for him, but what seems good for him. 
 But this will make no difference ; for the lovable we 
 are speaking of will then be the apparently lovable. 
 
 The motives of love being thus threefold, the love 
 of inanimate things is not called friendship. For 
 there is no return of affection here, nor any wish for 
 the good of the object: it would be absurd to wish 
 well to wine, for instance ; at the most, we wish that 
 it may keep well, in order that we may have it. 
 But it is commonly said that we must wish our 
 friend's good for his own sake. One who thus wishes 
 the good of another is called a well-wisher, when the 
 wish is not reciprocated; when the well-wishing is 
 mutual, it is called friendship. 
 
 But ought we not to add that each must be aware 
 of the other's well-wishing ? For a man often wishes 
 well to those whom he has never seen, but supposes 
 to be good or useful men ; and one of these may have 
 the same sentiments towards him. These two, then, 
 are plainly well-wishers one of another; but how 
 
2, 2-3, 2.] FRIENDSHIP OK LOVE. 255 
 
 could one call them friends when each is unaware of 
 the other's feelings ? 
 
 In order to be friends, then, they must be well- 
 wishers one of another, i.e. must wish each other's 
 good from one of the three motives above mentioned, 
 and be aware of each other's feelings. 
 
 3. But these three motives are specifically different three und* 
 from one another ; the several affections and friend- &facmre- 
 ships based: upon them, therefore, will also be specific- Kiree 
 ally different. The kinds of friendship accordingly perfect 
 
 i -, . . -, -T . friendship u 
 
 are three, being equal in number to the motives of that who* 
 love ; for any one of these may be the basis of a the good. 
 mutual affection of which each is aware. 
 
 Now, those who love one another wish each 
 other's good in respect of that which is the motive 
 of their love. Those, therefore, whose love for one 
 another is based on the useful, do not love each 
 other for what they are, but only in so far as each 
 gets some good from the other. 
 
 It is the same also with those whose affection is 
 based on pleasure ; people care for a wit, for instance, 
 not for what he is, but as the source of pleasure to 
 themselves. 
 
 Those, then, whose love is based on the useful care 
 for each other on the ground of their own good, and 
 those whose love is based on pleasure care for each 
 other on the ground of what is pleasant to them- 
 selves, each loving the other, not as being what he is, 
 but as useful or pleasant. 
 
 These friendships, then, are " accidental ; " for the 
 object of affection is loved, not as being the person or ' 
 character that he is, but as the source of some good 
 
256 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 or some pleasure. Friendships of this kind, therefore, ; 
 are easily dissolved, as the persons do not continue 
 unchanged ; for if they cease to be pleasant or useful 
 to one another, their love ceases. But the useful is 
 nothing permanent, but varies from time to time. 
 On the disappearance, therefore, of that which was the 
 motive of their friendship, the friendship itself is dis- 
 solved, since it existed solely with a view to that. 
 
 Friendship of this kind seems especially to be 4 
 found among elderly men (for at that time of life men 
 pursue the useful rather than the pleasant) and those 
 middle-aged and .young men who have a keen eye to 
 what is profitable. But friends of this kind do not 
 generally even live together ; for sometimes they are 
 by no means pleasant (nor indeed do they want such 
 constant intercourse with others, unless they are use- 
 ful) ; for they make themselves pleasant only just so 
 far as they have hopes of getting something good 
 thereby. 
 
 With these friendships is generally classed the kind 
 of friendship that exists between host and guest.* 
 
 The friendship of young men is thought to be 5 
 based on pleasure; for young men live by impulse, 
 and, for the most part, pursue what is pleasant to 
 themselves and what is immediately present. But 
 the things in which they take pleasure change as 
 they advance in years. They are quick to make 
 friendships, therefore, and quick to drop them; for 
 
 * A family of importance in a Greek state was usually connected 
 by ties of hospitality with other families in other states : persons 
 BO connected were not <f>l\oi, not strictly friends, since they lived 
 apart; but /o*, for which there is no English equivalent. 
 
3, 3-7.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 257 
 
 their friendship changes as the object which pleases 
 them changes ; and pleasure of this kind is liable to 
 rapid alteration. 
 
 Moreover, young men are apt to fall in love ; for 
 love is, for the most part, a matter of impulse and 
 based on pleasure: so they fall in love, and again 
 soon cease to love, passing from one state to the 
 other many times in one day. 
 
 Friends of this kind wish to spend their time 
 together and to live together; for thus they attain 
 the object of their friendship. 
 
 But the perfect kind of friendship is that of good 
 men who resemble one another in virtue. For they 
 botn alike wish well to one another as good men, 
 and it is their essential character to be good men. 
 And those who wish well to their friends for the 
 friends' sake are friends in the truest sense ; for they 
 have these sentiments towards each other as being 
 what they are, and not in an accidental way : their 
 friendship, therefore, lasts as long as their virtue, and 
 that is a lasting thing. 
 
 Again, each is both good simply and good to his 
 friend ; for it is true of good men that they are both 
 good simply and also useful to one another. 
 
 In like manner they are pleasant too ; for good 
 men are both pleasant in themselves and pleasant to 
 one another : for every kind of character takes delight 
 in the acts that are proper to it and those that re- 
 semble these ; but the acts of good men are the same 
 or similar. 
 
 This kind of friendship, then, is lasting, as we 
 might expect, since it unites in itself all the con- 
 
 s 
 
258 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. YITI 
 
 ditions of true friendship. For every friendship 
 for its motive some good or some pleasure (whether 
 it be such in itself or relatively to the person who 
 loves), and is founded upon some similarity: but 
 in this case all the requisite characteristics belong to 
 the friends in their own nature ; for here there is 
 similarity and the rest, viz. what is good simply and 
 pleasant simply, and these are the most lov 
 things : and so it is between persons of this sort 
 the truest and best love and friendship is found. 
 
 It is but natural that such friendships should bo 
 uncommon, as such people are rare. Such a friend- 
 ship, moreover, requires long and familiar ir 
 course. For, as the proverb says, it is impossible for 
 people to know one another till they have consumed 
 the requisite quantity of salt together. Nor can 
 they accept one another as friends, or be friends, till 
 each show and approve himself to the other as 
 worthy to be loved. Those who quickly com 
 treat one another like friends may wish to be frit 
 but are not really friends, unless they not only are 
 lovable, but know each other to be so ; a wish to be 
 friends may be of rapid growth, but not friendshi 
 
 This kind of friendship, then, is complei 
 respect of duration and in all other points, and that 
 which each gets from the other is in all res, 
 identical or similar, as should be the case with friend 
 
 4. The friendship of which pleasure is the m >t 
 copi p o} Ject bears some resemblance to the foregoing ; for 
 
 men, too, are pleasant to each other. So also c 
 that of which the useful is the motive ; for good me 
 are useful also to one another. And in these < 
 
3, 8-4, 3.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 259 
 
 too, the friendship is most likely to endure when that 
 which each gets from the other is the same (e.g. 
 pleasure), and not only the same, but arising from 
 the same source a friendship between two wits, for 
 instance, rather than one between a lover and his be- 
 loved. For the source of pleasure in the latter case is 
 not the same for both : the lover delights to look upon 
 his beloved, the beloved likes to have attentions paid 
 r -him ; but when the bloom of youth is gone, the 
 friendship sometimes vanishes also ; for the one 
 misses the beauty that used to please him, the other 
 misses the attentions. But, on the other hand, they 
 frequently continue friends, i.e. when their inter- 
 course has brought them to care for each other's 
 characters, and they are similar in character. 
 
 Those who in matters of love exchange not pleasure 
 but profit, are less truly and less permanently friends. 
 The friendship whose motive is profit ceases when 
 the advantage ceases ; for it was not one another 
 that they loved, but the profit. 
 
 For pleasure, then, or for profit it is possible even 
 for bad men to be friends with one another, and good 
 men with bad, and those who are neither with people 
 of any kind, but it is evident that the friendship in 
 which each loves the other for himself is only possible 
 between good men; for bad men take no delight in 
 each other unless some advantage is to be gained. 
 
 The friendship of good men, again, is the only one 
 that can defy calumny ; for people are not ready to 
 accept the testimony of any one else against him 
 whom themselves have tested. Such friendship also 
 implies mutual trust, and the certainty that neither 
 
260 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 would ever wrong the other, and all else that is im- 
 plied in true friendship; while in other friendships 
 there is no such security. 
 
 ' For since men also apply the term friends to 4 
 those who love one another for profit's sake, as hap- 
 pens with states (for expediency is thought to be the 
 ground on which states make alliances), and also to 
 those who love one another for pleasure's sake, as 
 children do, perhaps we too ought to apply the name 
 to such people, and to speak of several kinds of friend- 
 ship firstly, in the primary and strict sense of the 
 word, the friendship of good men as such ; secondly, 
 the other kinds that are so called because of a resem- 
 blance to this : for these other people are called friends 
 in so far as their relation involves some element of 
 good, which constitutes a resemblance; for the pleasant, 
 too, is good to those who love pleasant things. But 5 
 these two latter kinds are not apt to coincide ; nor do 
 the same people become friends for the sake both of 
 profit and pleasure ; for such accidental properties 
 are not apt to be combined in one subject. 
 
 Now that we have distinguished these several 6 
 kinds of friendship, we may say that bad men will 
 be friends for the sake of pleasure or profit, resembling 
 true friends in this respect, while good men, when they 
 are friends, love each other for what they are, i.e. as 
 good men. These, then, we say, are friends simply; 
 the others are friends accidentally and so far as they 
 resemble these. 
 
 5. But just as with regard to the virtues we l 
 distinguish excellence of character or faculty from 
 excellence manifested, so is it also with friendship: 
 
4, 4-5, 4] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 261 
 
 when friends are living together, they take pleasure 
 in, and do goofl to, each other ; when they are asleep 
 or at a distance from one another, they are not acting 
 as friends, but they have the disposition which, if 
 manifested, issues in friendly acts ; for distance does 
 not destroy friendship simply, but the manifestation 
 of friendship. But if the absence be prolonged, it is 
 thought to obliterate even friendship ; whence the 
 saying 
 
 " Full many a friendship hath ere now been loosed 
 By lack of converse." 
 
 Old men do not seem apt to make friends, nor 
 morose men ; for there is little in them that can give 
 pleasure : but no one can pass his days in intercourse 
 with what is painful or not pleasant ; for our nature 
 seems, above all things, to shun the painful and seek 
 the pleasant. 
 
 Those who accept each other's company, but do 
 not live together, seem to be rather well-wishers than 
 friends. For there is nothing so characteristic of 
 friendship as living together : * those who need help 
 seek it thus, but even those who are happy desire 
 company; for a solitary life suits them least of all 
 men. But people cannot live together unless they 
 are pleasant to each other, nor unless they take de- 
 light in the same things, which seems to be a neces- 
 sary condition of comradeship. 
 
 The truest friendship, then, is that which exists 
 between good men, as we have said again and again. 
 
 * To a Greek, of course, this does not necessarily imply living 
 under the same roof, as it does to us with our very different con- 
 ditions of life. 
 
262 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 For that, it seems, is lovable and desirable which is 
 good or pleasant in itself, but to each man that which 
 is good or pleasant to him; and the friendship of good 
 men for one another rests on both these grounds. 
 
 But it seems that while love is a feeling, friend- 5 
 ship is a habit or trained faculty. For inanimate 
 things can equally well be the object of love, but 
 the love of friends for one another implies purpose, 
 and purpose proceeds from a habit or trained faculty. 
 And in wishing well for their sakes to those they 
 love, they are swayed not by feeling, but by habit. 
 Again, in loving a friend they love what is good for 
 themselves; for he who gains a good man for his 
 friend gains something that is good for himself. 
 Each then, loves what is good for himself, and what 
 he gives in good wishes and pleasure is equal to 
 what he gets; for equality is friendliness, as they 
 say. All these characteristics, then, are found in the 
 highest degree in the friendship of good men. 
 impossible to 6. Morose men and elderly men are less apt i 
 
 nave many 
 
 true frienat. to make friends in proportion as they are harsher 
 in temper, and take less pleasure in society ; for 
 delight in society seems to be, more than anything 
 else, characteristic of friendship and productive of it 
 So young men are quick to make friends, but not old 
 men (for people do not make friends with those who 
 do not please them), nor morose men. Such people 
 may, indeed, be well-wishers, for they wish each other 
 good and help each other in need; but they are by 
 no means friends, since they do not live with nor 
 delight in each other, which things are thought to be. 
 more than anything else, characteristic of friendship. 
 
5, 5-6, 4.] FKIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 2G3 
 
 2 It is impossible to have friendship, in the full 
 sense of the word, for many people at the same time, 
 just as it is impossible to be in love with many 
 persons at once ; for it seems to be something intense, 
 which may naturally be felt for one person, while it 
 is not easy for one man to find at one time many 
 very agreeable persons, perhaps not many good 
 
 3 ones. Moreover, they must have tested and become 
 accustomed to each other, which is a matter of great 
 difficulty. But in the way of profit or pleasure, it is 
 quite possible to find many * agreeable persons ; for 
 such people are not rare, and their services can be 
 rendered in a short time. 
 
 4 Of these other kinds, that which more nearly 
 resembles true friendship is that whose motive is 
 pleasure, when each renders the same service to the 
 other, and both take pleasure in one another, or in 
 the same things, such as young men's friendships 
 are wont to be; for a generous spirit is commoner 
 in them than in others. But the friendship whose 
 motive is utility is the friendship of sordid souls. 
 Those who are happy do not need useful, but pleasant 
 friends ; it is people to live with that they want, and 
 though they may for a short time put up with what 
 is painful, yet no one could endure anything con- 
 tinually, not even the good itself, if it were painful 
 to him; so they require that their friends shall be 
 pleasant. But they ought, we may say, to require that 
 they shall be good as well as pleasant, and good for 
 them ; then all the characteristics of a friend will be 
 combined. 
 
 Beading vo\\ol>s. 
 
264 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [Bn. VIII. 
 
 People in exalted positions seem to make distinct 5 
 classes of friends. They have some who are useful, 
 and others who are pleasant, but seldom any that 
 unite both these qualities; for they do not seek for 
 people who are at once agreeable and virtuous, or 
 people who can be useful to them in noble actions, 
 but they seek for witty persons to satisfy their 
 craving for pleasure, while for other purposes they 
 choose men who are clever at carrying out their 
 instructions : but these two qualities are seldom 
 united in one person. 
 
 The good man, indeed, as we have already said, 6 
 is both pleasant and useful; but such a man does 
 not make friends with a man in a superior station, 
 unless he allows himself inferior in virtue :* only thus 
 does he meet the good man on equal terms, being 
 inferior in one respect in the same ratio as he is 
 superior in another. But great men are by no means 
 wont to behave in this manner. 
 
 In the friendships hitherto spoken of the persons 7 
 are equal, for they do the same and wish the same 
 for each other, or else exchange equal quantities of 
 different things, as pleasure for profit. (We have 
 already explained that the latter less deserve the 
 name of friendship, and are less lasting than the 
 former kind. We may even say that, being at once 
 
 * The words Uv ^ teal rfj apery vTrepe'xTjTot literally mean " unless 
 he also be surpassed in virtue." Who is " he " ? Not the former, for 6 
 (TirovSaTos, the ideally good man, cannot be surpassed in virtue ; there, 
 fore the latter the great man, the tyrant, king or prince. The 
 whole passage displays a decided animus against princes (perhaps, 
 as Stahr suggests, a reminiscence of experiences in the Macedonian 
 court). 
 
6, 5-7, 2.] FRIENDSHIP OB LOVE. 265 
 
 both like it and unlike it, they seem both to be and 
 not to be friendships. On the ground of their re- 
 semblance to the friendship that is based on virtue, 
 they seem to be friendships ; for one involves pleasure, 
 the other profit, both of which belong to true friend- 
 ship ; but, again, inasmuch as it is beyond calumny 
 and is lasting, while they are liable to rapid change 
 and different in many other respects, they seem 
 not to be friendships because of their unlikeness 
 to it.) 
 
 1 7. But, besides these, ther is another kind of ofjr 
 friendship, in which the persons are unequal, as that unequal 
 of a father for a son, and generally of an elder for a its rule of 
 
 proportion. 
 
 younger person, or of a man for a woman, or of a &*&*>#* 
 ruler of any kind for a subject. 
 
 These also are different from one another; for 
 that of parent for child is not the same as that of 
 ruler for subject, nor even that of father for son the 
 same as that of son for father, nor that of man for 
 woman the same as that of woman for man. For 
 each of these classes has a different excellence and a 
 different function, and the grounds of their affectioji 
 are different ; therefore their love and their friendship 
 also are different. What each does for the other, then, 
 is not the same, nor should they expect it to be the 
 same ; but when children give to their parents what 
 they owe to those who begat them, and parents give 
 to their sons what they owe to their children, then 
 such friendship will be lasting, and what it ought 
 
 2 to be. But in all friendships based on inequality, 
 the love on either side should be proportional I 
 mean that the better of the two (and the more useful, 
 
266 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BE. VIII. 
 
 and so on in each case) should receive more love than 
 he gives; for when love is proportioned to desert, 
 then there is established a sort of equality, which 
 seems to be a necessary condition of friendship. 
 
 But there seems to be a difference between the 
 equality that prevails in the sphere of justice and 
 that which prevails in friendship : for in the sphere 
 of justice the primary sense of " equal " [or " fair," 
 to-ov] is "proportionate to merit," and "equal in 
 quantity " is only the secondary sense ; but in friend- 
 ship "equal in quantity" is the primary, and "pro- 
 portionate to merit" the secondary sense.* 
 
 This is plainly seen in cases where there comes to 
 be a great distance between the persons in virtue, or 
 vice, or wealth, or in any other respect ; for they no 
 longer are, nor expect to be, friends. It is most 
 plainly seen in the case of the gods ; for they have 
 the greatest superiority in all good things. But it is 
 seen also in the case of princes ; for here also those 
 who are greatly inferior do not claim their friend- 
 ship ; nor do people of no consideration expect to be 
 friends with the best and wisest in the state. It is 
 impossible accurately to determine the limits within 
 which friendship may subsist in such cases : many 
 things may be taken away, and it may remain ; but 
 
 * The general rule of justice is that what different people re- 
 ceive is different, being proportionate to their respective merits (rJ> 
 KOT' aiav foov, or Iff6rr)s \6ycav : cf. V. 3, 6, 5, 6 and 17) ; in exceptional 
 cases, when the merits of the persons are the same, what they receive 
 is equal (rb ACOT* a#a.v becomes r)> KCIT& iroa'bv laov) . But friendship 
 in the primary sense is friendship between equals, so that the general 
 rule here is that both give and take equal amounts of love, etc. ; in 
 the exceptional case of inequality between the persons, the amounts 
 must be proportionate. 
 
7, 3-8, 2.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 267 
 
 again, if a person be very far removed, as God is, it 
 can no longer be. 
 
 6 This has suggested the objection that, after all, a 
 friend does not wish his friend the greatest of all 
 goods, that he should become a god ; for then he 
 would lose a friend that is, a good ; for a friend is a 
 good thing. If then we were right in saying that a 
 friend wishes good to his friend for his (the friend's) 
 sake, we must add, " the friend remaining what he 
 is : " so far as is compatible with his being a man, he 
 will wish him the greatest good but perhaps not 
 everything that is good ; for every man wishes good 
 most of all to himself. 
 
 1 8. Most people seem, from a desire for honour, to of loving 
 
 , and I> ein 9 
 
 wish to be loved rather than to love, and on this loved - 
 account most men are fond of flatterers ; for a flatterer 
 is an inferior friend, or pretends to be so and to love 
 more than he is loved: but being loved is thought to 
 come near to being honoured, and that most men 
 strive for. 
 
 2 But they seem to desire honour not for its own 
 sake, but accidentally : it is expectation that makes 
 most men delight in being honoured by those in 
 authority ; for they hope to get from them anything 
 they may want : they delight in this honour, there- 
 fore, as a token of good things to come. On the 
 other hand, those who desire the honour or respect of 
 good men and men who know, are anxious to confirm 
 their own opinion of themselves ; they rejoice, there- 
 fore, in the assurance of their worth which they 
 gain from confidence in the judgment of those who 
 declare it. 
 
268 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 But men delight in being loved for its own sake ; 
 wherefore it would seem that being loved is better 
 than being honoured, and that friendship is desirable 
 for its own sake. 
 
 Friendship, however, seems to lie in the loving, 3 
 rather than in the being loved. This is shown by the 
 delight that mothers take in loving ; for some give 
 their children to others to rear, and love them since 
 they know them, but do not look for love in return, 
 if it be impossible to have both, being content to see 
 their children doing well, and loving them, though 
 they receive from them, in their ignorance, nothing of 
 what is due to a mother. 
 
 Since friendship lies more in loving [than in being 4 
 loved], and since we praise those who love their 
 friends, it would seem that the virtue of a friend is 
 to love, so that when people love each other in pro- 
 portion to their worth, they are lasting friends, and 
 theirs is a lasting friendship. 
 
 This is also the way in which persons who are 5 
 unequal can be most truly friends ; for thus they will 
 make themselves equal : but equality and similarity 
 tend to friendship, and most of all the similarity of 
 those who resemble each other in virtue ; for such 
 men, being little liable to change, continue as they 
 were in themselves and to one another, and do not 
 ask anything unworthy of one another, or do any- 
 thing unworthy for one another nay, rather restrain 
 one another from anything of the sort ; for it is charac- 
 teristic of a good man neither to go wrong himself, 
 nor to let his friend go wrong. 
 
 Bad men on the other hand [as friends] have no 
 
8, 3-9, 1.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 269 
 
 stability : for they do not even continue like them- 
 selves ; but for a short space they become friends, 
 rejoicing in each other's wickedness. 
 
 Those, however, who are useful and agreeable to 
 one another continue friends longer, i.e. so long as 
 they continue to furnish pleasure or profit. 
 
 The friendship whose motive is utility seems, more 
 than any other kind, to be a union of opposites, as of 
 rich and poor, ignorant and learned ; for when a man 
 wants a thing, in his desire to get it he will give 
 something else in exchange. And perhaps we might 
 include the lover and his beloved, the beautiful and 
 the ugly person, in this class. And this is the 
 reason why lovers often make themselves ridiculous 
 by claiming to be loved as they love ; if they were 
 equally lovable they might perhaps claim it, but 
 when there is nothing lovable about them the claim 
 is absurd. 
 
 But perhaps nothing desires its opposite as such 
 but only accidentally, the desire being really for the 
 mean which is between the two ; for this is good. 
 For the dry, for instance, it is good not to become wet, 
 but to come to the intermediate state, and so with the 
 hot, and with the rest of these opposites. But we 
 may dismiss these questions; for, indeed, they are 
 somewhat foreign to our present purpose. 
 
 9. It seems, as we said at the outset, that the sub- 
 ject-matter and occasion of friendship and of justice 
 
 ,, -m ., . ,. .. . of friendship 
 
 are the same. Every community or association, it is as of justice. 
 thought, gives some occasion for justice, and also for are summed 
 friendship ; at least, people address as friends their 
 partners in a voyage or campaign, and so on with 
 
270 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 other associations. To what extent soever they are 
 partners, to that extent is there occasion for friendship ; 
 for to that extent is there occasion for justice. 
 
 Moreover, " friends' goods are common property," 
 says the proverb rightly ; for friendship implies com- 
 munity. Brothers, indeed, and comrades have all 2 
 things in common : other friends have certain definite 
 things in common, some more and some less ; for 
 friendships also differ in degree. But what justice 
 requires is also different in different cases ; it does not 
 require from parents towards children, for instance, 
 the same as from brothers towards one another, nor 
 from comrades the same as from fellow-citizens, and 
 so on through the other kinds of friendship. 
 
 Injustice also assumes different forms in these 3 
 several relations, and increases according to the 
 degree of friendship ; e.g. it is a grosser wrong to rob 
 a comrade than a fellow-citizen, and to refuse help to 
 a brother than to a stranger, and to strike one's father 
 than to strike any other man. The claims of justice, 
 in fact, are such as to increase as friendship increases, 
 both having the same field and growing pari passu. 
 
 But all kinds of association or community seem to 4 
 be, as it were, parts of the political community or 
 association of citizens. For in all of them men join 
 together with a view to some common interest, and 
 in pursuit of some one or other of the things they 
 need for their life. But the association of citizens 
 seems both originally to have been instituted and to 
 continue for the sake of common interests; for this 
 is what legislators aim at, and that which is for the 
 common interest of all is said to be just. 
 
9, 2-10, 1.] FKIENDSHIP OE LOVE. 271 
 
 all other associations seem to aim at some 
 
 particular advantage, e.g. sailors work together for a 
 
 essful voyage, with a view to making money or 
 
 something of that sort ; soldiers for a successful cam- 
 
 paign, whether their ulterior end be riches, or victory, 
 
 >r the founding of a state ; and so it is with the mem- 
 
 jrs of a tribe or a deme. Some associations, again, 
 
 m to have pleasure for their object, as when men 
 
 m. together for a feast or a club dinner; for the 
 
 ect here is feasting and company. But all these 
 
 Bociations seem to be subordinate to the associa- 
 
 ion of citizens ; for the association of citizens seems 
 
 Lave for its aim, not the interests of the moment, 
 
 the interests of our whole life, even when its 
 
 pbers celebrate festivals and hold gatherings 
 
 fBuch occasions, and render honour to the gods, 
 
 I provide recreation and amusement for them- 
 
 For the ancient festivals and assemblies 
 
 to take place after the gathering in of the harvest, 
 
 'f the nature of a dedication of the first-fruits, 
 
 I was at these seasons that people had most 
 
 1 associations, then, seem to be parts of the 
 ion of citizens; and the several kinds of 
 fchip will correspond to the several kinds of 
 
 L Now, of constitutions there are three kinds, and of the three 
 
 1 forms o/ 
 
 pal number of perverted forms, which are, so to constitution. 
 I; corruptions of these. Constitutions proper are 
 ly government and aristocracy ; and, thirdly, there 
 
 [t is the institution of the state which gives a permanent 
 to these amusements of a day. 
 
272 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 is a form of government based upon an assessment of 
 property, which should strictly be called timocracy, 
 though most people are wont to speak of it as consti- 
 tutional government simply. 
 
 Of these, kingly government is the best and 
 timocracy the worst. The perversion of kingly 
 government is tyranny : both are monarchies, but 
 there is a vast difference between them ; for the tyrant 
 seeks his own interest, the king seeks the interest of 
 his subjects. For he is not properly a king who is 
 not self-sufficient and superabundantly furnished with 
 all that is good ; such a man wants nothing more; his 
 own advantage, then, will not be his aim, but that of 
 his subjects. A man of another character than this 
 could only be the sort of king that is chosen by 
 lot.* 
 
 Tyranny is the opposite of kingly rule, because 
 the tyrant seeks his own good ; and of this govern- 
 ment it is quite obvious t that it is the worst of all : 
 we may add that the opposite of the best must be 
 the worst. 
 
 Kingly government degenerates into tyranny ; for 
 tyranny is a vicious form of monarchy : the bad 
 king, then, becomes a tyrant 
 
 Aristocracy degenerates into oligarchy through 
 the vice of the rulers, who, instead of distributing 
 public property and honours according to merit,~takt> 
 all or most of the good things for themselves, and 
 give the offices always to the same people, setting 
 the greatest store by wealth ; you have, then, a small 
 
 * As the &px<*v Paffi\fvs at Athens. 
 
 t Lit. " more evident," sc. than that kingly rule is the best. 
 
10, 2-5.] FKIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 273 
 
 number of bad men in power, in place of the best 
 men. 
 
 Lastly, timocracy degenerates into democracy : 
 and indeed they border closely upon each other ; for 
 even timocracy is intended to be government by the 
 multitude, and all those who have the property 
 qualification are equal. 
 
 Democracy is the least bad [of the corrupt forms], 
 for it is but a slight departure from the correspond- 
 ing form of constitution. 
 
 These, then, are the ways in which the several 
 constitutions are most apt to change; for these are 
 the directions in which the change is slightest, and 
 encounters the least resistance. 
 
 Likenesses of these forms of government and pat- 
 terns of them, so to speak, may be found in families. 
 For instance, the association of father and sons has 
 the form of kingly rule ; for the father cares for his 
 children. This, also, is the reason why Homer ad- 
 dresses Zeus as father ; for kingly government aims 
 at being a paternal government. But in Persia the 
 association of father and son is tyrannical ; for fathers 
 there use their sons as slaves. The association of 
 master and slave is also tyrannical ; for it is the 
 interest of the master that is secured by it. But 
 this seems to be a legitimate kind of tyranny, while 
 the Persian kind seems to be wrong; for different 
 beings require different kinds of government. 
 
 The association of man and wife seems to be 
 aristocratic : for the husband bears rule proportionate 
 to his worth, i.e. he rules in those matters which are 
 his province ; but he entrusts to his wife those matters 
 
 T 
 
274 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 that properly belong to her. But when the man 
 lords it in all things, he perverts this relation into 
 an oligarchical one ; for he then takes rule where he 
 is not entitled to it, and not only in those matters 
 in which he is better. Sometimes, on the other 
 hand, the wife rules because she is an heiress. In 
 these cases authority is not proportionate to merit, 
 but is given on the ground of wealth and influence, 
 just as in oligarchies. 
 
 The association of brothers resembles a timocracy; 6 
 for they are equal except in so far as they differ in 
 age. On this account, if they differ very widely in 
 age, their friendship can no longer be a brotherly 
 friendship. 
 
 A democratic form of association is chiefly found 
 in those households which have no master (for there 
 all are on a footing of equality), or where the head 
 of the house is weak, and every one does what he 
 likes. 
 
 11. In each of these forms of government friend- l 
 ship has place to the same extent as justice. In the 
 first place, the king shows his friendship for his 
 subjects * by transcendent benefits ; for he does good 
 to his subjects, seeing that he is good, and tends them 
 with' a view to their welfare, as a shepherd tends his 
 sheep, whence Homer calls Agamemnon "shepherd 
 of peoples." 
 
 The friendship of a father for his child is of a 2 
 similar kind, though the benefits conferred are still 
 greater. For the father is the author of the child's 
 existence, which seems the greatest of all benefits, 
 
 * Scarcely consistent with 7, 4j but cf. 7, It 
 
10, 6-11, 6.J FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 275 
 
 and of his nurture and education ; and we also 
 ascribe these to our forefathers generally : and thus 
 it is in accordance with nature that fathers should 
 rule their children, forefathers their descendants, 
 kings their subjects. 
 
 These friendships involve the superiority of one 
 side to the other ; and on this account parents receive 
 honour as well [as service].* Moreover, what justice 
 requires here is not the same on both sides, but that 
 which is proportionate to their worth ; for this is the 
 rule of friendship also [as well as of justice]. 
 
 The friendship, again, of man and wife is the same 
 as that which has place in an aristocracy ; for both 
 benefit in proportion to their merit, the better getting 
 more good, and each what is fitting ; but this is the 
 rule of justice also. 
 
 The friendship of brothers resembles that of com- 
 rades, for they are equal and of like age ; but those 
 with whom that is the case for the most part have 
 the same feelings and character. And the friendship 
 in a timocracy is of the same type as this; for the 
 citizens here wish to be equal and fair ; so they take 
 office in turn, and share it equally : their friendship, 
 then, will follow the same rule. 
 
 In the corrupt forms, as there is but little room 
 for justice, so there is but little room for friendship, 
 and least of all in the worst ; in a tyranny there is 
 little or no friendship. For where ruler and subject 
 have nothing in common, there cannot be any friend- 
 
 * We pay taxes to the king, and tend our parents in their old 
 age ; but, as this is no adequate repayment of what they have done 
 for us, we owe them honour besides. 
 
276 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [Bs. VIII. 
 
 ship, any more than there can be any justice. But 
 here the relation is like that of a workman to his 
 tools, or of the soul to the body, or of master to slave. 
 The tools and the body and the slave are all benefited 
 by those "who use them; but our relations with in- 
 animate objects do not admit of friendship or justice ; 
 nor our relations with a horse or an ox ; nor our 
 relations with a slave as such. For there is nothing 
 in common between master and slave. The slave is 
 a living tool ; the tool is a lifeless slave. As a slave, 
 then, his master's relations with him do not admit 
 of friendship, but as a man they may : for there 
 seems to be room for some kind of justice in the 
 relations of any man to any one that can participate 
 in law and contract, and if so, then for some kind of 
 friendship, so far, that is to say, as he deserves the 
 name man. 
 
 And so friendships and justice are found to some 
 small extent even in tyrannies, but to a greater 
 extent in democracies than in any other of the 
 corrupt forms ; for there the citizens, being equal, 
 have many things in common. 
 of the 12. All friendship, as we have already said, implies 
 
 friendship of , r 
 
 kinsmen and association : but we mav separate from the rest the 
 
 comrades. ' * x 
 
 friendship of kinsmen and that of comrades. The 
 friendships of fellow-citizens, of fellow-tribesmen, of 
 fellow-sailors, etc., seem, as opposed to these, to have 
 more to do with association; for they appear to be 
 founded upon some sort of compact. The friendship 
 of host and guest might also be included in this class. 
 Kinsmen's friendship seems to include several 
 species, but to be dependent in all its forms upon the 
 
11, 7-12, 4.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 277 
 
 friendship of parent and child. For parents love 
 their children as part of themselves ; children love 
 their parents as the source of their being. But 
 parents know their children better than th*e children 
 know that these are their parents, and that which gives 
 birth is more closely attached to that which proceeds 
 from it, than the offspring is to that which gave it 
 life : for that which proceeds from us belongs to us, 
 as a tooth or a hair, or anything of that sort, to its 
 owner ; but we do not belong to it at all, or belong 
 to it in a less degree. 
 
 Again, there is a difference in respect of time ; 
 for parents love their offspring from the moment of 
 their birth, but children love their parents only after 
 the lapse of time, when they have acquired under- 
 standing or sense. 
 
 These considerations also show why mothers love 
 their children more than fathers do. 
 
 Parents, then, love their children as themselves 
 (for what proceeds from them is as it were a second 
 self when it is severed), but children love their parents 
 as the source of their being, and brothers love each 
 other because they proceed from the same source : for 
 the identity of their relation to this source constitutes 
 an identity between them; so that they say that 
 they are of the same blood and stock, etc. And so 
 they are in a way identical, though they are separate 
 persons. 
 
 But friendship between brothers is greatly fur- 
 thered by common nurture and similarity of age ; for 
 those of the same age naturally love one another, as 
 the saying is, and those who are used to one another 
 
278 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 naturally make comrades of one another, so that the 
 friendship of brothers comes to resemble that of 
 comrades. 
 
 Cousins and other kinsfolk become attached to 
 each other for the same reason I mean because they 
 come of the same stock. But the attachment is more 
 or less close according to the nearness or remoteness 
 of the founder of the family. 
 
 The friendship of children for their parents (like t 
 that of men for the gods) is friendship for what is 
 good and superior to themselves, as the source of the 
 greatest benefits, namely, of their life and nurture, 
 and their education from their birth upwards. 
 
 Friendship of this kind brings with it more, both e 
 of pleasure and profit, than that of strangers, in pro- 
 portion as there is more community of life. 
 
 The friendship of brothers has all the character- 
 istics of the friendship of comrades, and has them in 
 a greater degree (provided they are good and generally 
 resemble one another) inasmuch as they belong more 
 to one another and love each other from their birth 
 up, and have more similarity of character, as being 
 of the same stock and brought up together and 
 educated alike ; moreover, they have had the longest 
 and the surest experience of one another. 
 
 In all other kinsmen's friendships the same ele- 7 
 ments will be found in proportion to the relationship. 
 
 The friendship of man and wife seems to be 
 natural ; for human beings are by nature more apt to 
 join together in couples than to form civil societies, 
 inasmuch as the family is prior in time to the state 
 and more indispensable, and the propagation of the 
 
12, 5-13, 1.J FRIENDSHIP OB LOVE, 279 
 
 species is a more fundamental characteristic of animal 
 existence. The other animals associate for this purpose 
 alone, but man and wife live together not merely for 
 the begetting of children, but also to satisfy the needs 
 of their life : for the functions of the man and the 
 woman are clearly divided and distinct the one from 
 the other ; they supply each other's wants, therefore, 
 both contributing to the common stock. And so this 
 sort of friendship is thought to bring with it both 
 pleasure and profit. But it will be based on virtue, 
 too, if they be good ; for each sex has its own virtue, 
 and both will rejoice in that which is of like nature. 
 
 Children also seem to be a bond that knits man ' 
 and wife together (which 'is a reason why childless 
 unions are more quickly dissolved) ; for children are 
 a good which both have in common, but that which 
 people have in common holds them together. 
 
 To ask on what terms a man should live with his 
 wife, and generally friend with friend, seems the same 
 as to ask what justice requires in these cases; for 
 what is required of a man towards his friend is 
 different from what is required of him towards a 
 stranger, a comrade, or a travelling companion. 
 
 13. There are three kinds of friendship, as we said of the ter 
 at the outset, and in each kind there are both equal change an 
 
 and unequal friendships : I mean that sometimes two 
 
 11 J i r i i j.- in equal 
 
 equally good persons make mends, and sometimes 
 better and a worse (and so with those who are 
 pleasant to one another, and with those who are 
 friends with a view to profit) effecting equality by 
 the services they exchange, even though they are 
 themselves different. 
 
280 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. VIII. 
 
 Now, those who are equal should effect equality 
 by loving one another, etc., equally, but those who are 
 unequal should effect equality by making what each 
 renders proportionate to the greater or less merit of 
 the other. 
 
 But accusations and reproaches arise solely or 2 
 mostly in friendships whose motive is profit, as we 
 should expect. For those whose friendship is based 
 on virtue are eager to do good to each other ; for this 
 is the office of virtue and friendship. And between 
 people who are thus vieing with one another no 
 accusations or quarrels can arise ; for a man cannot 
 be embittered against one who loves him and does 
 him a service, but, if he* be of a gracious nature, 
 requites him with a like service. But the superior 
 will not reproach his friend, since he gets what he 
 desires ; * for each desires what is good. 
 
 Such quarrels, again, are not apt to arise in friend- 3 
 ships whose motive is pleasure ; for both get at the 
 same time that which they desire, if they delight in 
 each other's company ; but if one were to accuse the 
 other for not being agreeable to him, he would make 
 himself ridiculous, seeing that he was under no 
 compulsion to associate with him. 
 
 But the friendship whose motive is utility is 4 
 fruitful in accusations; for as the friends here use 
 each other solely with a view to their own advantage, 
 each always wants the larger share and thinks he has 
 less than his due, and reproaches the other with not 
 doing for him so much as he requires and deserves ; 
 though, in truth, it is impossible for the one who 
 * For he desires the good of his friend. 
 
13, 2-8.] FKIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 281 
 
 is doing a service to supply all that the other 
 wants. 
 
 5 As the rules of justice are twofold, the unwritten 
 and those that are set down in laws, so the friendship 
 whose motive is profit is of two kinds one resting on 
 disposition, the other on contract. And accusations 
 are most apt to arise when the relation is understood 
 in one sense at the commencement, and in the other 
 sense at the conclusion. 
 
 6 That which rests on contract is that in which 
 there are specified conditions, and it is of two kinds : 
 one is purely commercial, on the principle of cash 
 payments ; the other is less exacting in point of time, 
 though in it also there is a specified quid pro quo. 
 
 In the latter case, what is due is evident and can- 
 not be disputed, but there is an element of friendliness 
 in the deferment of payment; for which reason, in 
 some states, there is no recovery by law in such cases, 
 but it is held that when a man has given credit he 
 must take the consequences. 
 
 That which rests on disposition has no specified 
 conditions, but one gives another presents (or what- 
 ever else it may be) as a friend. But afterwards he 
 claims as much or more in return, regarding what he 
 
 8 gave not as a gift, but as a loan. And thus, wishing 
 to terminate the relation in a different spirit from 
 that in which he entered upon it, he will accuse the 
 other.* And this is apt to happen because all or nearly 
 
 * In the papers of October 8, 1880, a suit is reported in which A 
 tries in vain to recover from B certain goods given during court- 
 ship, according to B as presents, according to A M ^TJTO?S, viz. 
 on condition of marriage, which condition had not been fulfilled. 
 
282 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BE. VIII. 
 
 all men, though they wish for what is noble, choose 
 what is profitable ; and while it is noble to do a good 
 service without expecting a return, it is profitable to 
 receive a benefit. 
 
 In such cases, then, we should, if we have the 
 power, make an equivalent return for benefits re- 
 ceived, even if there be no necessity to do so ; for we 
 must not treat a man as a friend if he does not wish 
 it. We should consider that we made a mistake 
 at the beginning, and received a benefit from a person 
 from whom we ought not to have accepted it for he 
 was not a friend and did not act disinterestedly 
 and so we ought to terminate the relation in the 
 same way as if we had received a service for a stipu- 
 lated consideration. But the stipulation would only 
 be to repay if we have the power ; if we have it not, 
 even the donor would not claim repayment : so we 
 may fairly say that we should repay if we have the 
 power. 
 
 But we ought at the outset carefully to consider 
 who it is that is doing us a service, and on what 
 understanding, so that we may accept it on that 
 understanding or else reject it. 
 
 It is a debatable question whether the requital 
 is to be measured by, and to be made proportionate 
 to, the value of the service to the recipient or to 
 the benefactor. For the recipients are apt to say 
 that they received what was but a small matter to 
 their benefactors, and what they might just as well 
 have got from others, depreciating the service done 
 them ; but the others, on the contrary, are apt to say 
 that what they gave was the best they had, and what 
 
13, 9-14, 1.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 283 
 
 could not be got from any one else, and that it was 
 given in a time of danger or on some other pressing 
 occasion. 
 
 Perhaps WQ may say that, if the friendship have 
 profit for its motive, the benefit received should be 
 taken as the measure ; for it is the recipient who asks 
 a service, which the other renders in expectation of an 
 equal service in return : the amount of the assistance 
 rendered, then, is determined by the extent to which 
 the former is benefited, and he should repay as much 
 as he received, or even more ; for that would be the 
 nobler course. 
 
 In friendships based on virtue, on the other hand, 
 such accusations do not occur, but it would seem that 
 the measure of the service is the purpose of him who 
 does it ; for virtue and moral character are determined 
 by purpose. 
 
 14. Quarrels occur also in unequal friendships ; for of the same 
 sometimes each claims the larger share, but when this /nXS^. 
 happens the friendship is dissolved. For instance, the 
 better of the two thinks he ought to have the larger 
 share ; " the good man's share is larger," he says : 
 the more useful of the two makes the same claim ; " it 
 is allowed," he says, " that a useless person should not 
 share equally; for friendship degenerates into gra- 
 tuitous service unless that which each receives from 
 the friendship be proportionate to the value of what 
 he does." For such people fancy that the same rule 
 should hold in friendship as in a commercial partner- 
 ship, where those who put in more take a larger 
 share. 
 
 The needy man and the inferior man argue in the 
 
284 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [Bn. VIII. 
 
 contrary way ; " it is the office of a good friend," they 
 say, " to help you when you are in need ; for what is 
 the use of being friends with a good man or a 
 powerful man, if you are to get nothing by it ? " 
 
 It seems that the claims of both are right, and 
 that each ought to receive a larger share than the 
 other, but not of the same things the superior more 
 honour, the needy man more profit ; for honour is the 
 tribute due to virtue and benevolence, while want 
 receives its due succour in the pecuniary gain. 
 
 This seems to be recognized in constitutions too : 
 no honour is paid to him who contributes nothing to 
 the common stock of good ; the common stock is 
 distributed among those who benefit the community, 
 and of this common stock honour is a part. For he 
 who makes money out of the community must not 
 expect to be honoured by the community also ; and 
 no one is content to receive a smaller share in every- 
 thing. To him, then, who spends money on public 
 objects we pay due honour, and money to him whose 
 services can be paid in money; for, by giving to each 
 what is in proportion to his merit, equality is effected 
 and friendship preserved, as we said before. 
 
 The same principles, then, must regulate the inter- 
 course of individuals who are unequal ; and he who is 
 benefited by another in his purse or in his character, 
 must give honour in return, making repayment in 
 that which he can command. For friendship exacts 
 what is possible rather than what is due : what is 
 due is sometimes impossible, as, for instance, in the 
 case of the honour due to the gods and to parents ; 
 for no one could ever pay all his debt to them ; but 
 
14, 2, 3.] FRIENDSHIP OB LOVE. 285 
 
 he who gives them such service as he can command 
 is held to fulfil his obligation. 
 
 For this reason it would seem that a man may 
 not disown his father, though a father may disown 
 his son ; for he who owes must pay : but whatever 
 a son may do he can never make a full return for 
 what he has received, so that he is always in debt. 
 But the creditor is at liberty to cast off the debtor ; 
 a father, therefore, is at liberty to cast off his son. 
 But, at the same time, it is not likely that any 
 one would ever disown a son, unless he were a very 
 great scoundrel ; for, natural affection apart, it is but 
 human not to thrust away the support that a son 
 would give. But to the son, if he be a scoundrel, 
 assisting his father is a thing that he wishes to avoid, 
 or at least is not eager to undertake ; for the gene- 
 rality of men wish to receive benefits, but avoid 
 doing them as unprofitable. So much, then, for these 
 questions. 
 
BOOK IX. 
 FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE continued. 
 
 dissimilar friendships * it is proportionate 1 
 excnan g e that maintains equality and preserves the 
 friendship (as we have already said), just as in the 
 association of citizens, where the shoemaker, in ex- 
 change for his shoes, receives some return propor- 
 tionate to his desert, and so on with the weaver and 
 the rest. 
 
 Now, in these latter cases, a common measure 2 
 is supplied by money; money is the standard to 
 which everything is referred, and by which it is 
 measured. 
 
 In sentimental friendships, on the other hand, the 
 lover sometimes complains that while he loves ex- 
 cessively he gets no love in return, although, maybe, 
 there is nothing lovable about him ; often the beloved 
 complains that whereas the other used to promise 
 everything, he now performs nothing. 
 
 Complaints of this sort are wont to arise when, 3 
 pleasure being the motive of the friendship with one 
 person and profit with the other, they do not both get 
 what they want. For the friendship, being based on 
 
 * Where the two friends have different motives. 
 
1, 1-5.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 287 
 
 these motives, is dissolved whenever they fail to obtain 
 that for the sake of which they made friends ; for it 
 was not the other's self that each loved, but only 
 something which he had, and which is not apt to 
 endure ; for which reason these friendships also are 
 not apt to endure. But friendship based on character, 
 being pure, is likely to last, as we said. 
 
 Sometimes, again, friends quarrel when they find 
 they are getting something different from what they 
 want ; for failing to get what you want is like getting 
 nothing. This may be illustrated by the story of the 
 harper: a man promised him that the better he 
 played, the more he should receive; but when, as 
 dawn drew near, the harper claimed the fulfilment 
 of his promise, the other replied that he had already 
 paid him pleasure * for pleasure. Now, if this was 
 what both wished, there would be nothing more to 
 say: but if the one wanted pleasure and the other 
 profit, and the one has what he wants, while the 
 other has not, the bargain will not be fairly carried 
 out ; for it is what a man happens to want that he 
 sets his heart on, and consents for the sake of it to 
 render this particular service. 
 
 But whose business is it to fix the value of the 
 service ? his who first gives, or rather his who first 
 receives ? for he who first gives seems to leave it 
 to the other. This, they say, was the custom of 
 Protagoras : when he had been giving lessons in any 
 subject, he used to tell his pupil to estimate the value 
 of the knowledge he had acquired, and so much he 
 would take. 
 
 * Viz. the pleasure of anticipation. 
 
288 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 Some, however, think the rule should be, " Let a 
 friend be content witn his stated wage." * 
 
 But if a man, after being paid in advance, fulfils 
 none of his engagements, because he had promised, 
 more than he could perform, he is rightly held charge- 
 able ; for he does not fulfil his contract. But the 
 sophists, perhaps, are compelled to adopt this plan [of 
 payment in advance]; for otherwise no one would 
 give anything for what they know. 
 
 He, then, who fails to do that for which he has 
 already been paid, is rightly chargeable. But when 
 there is no express agreement about the service 
 rendered, (a) when one voluntarily helps another for 
 that other's sake, no accusation can arise, as we said : 
 for this is the nature of friendship based on virtue. 
 The return must here be regulated by the purpose 
 of him who renders the first service ; for it is purpose 
 that makes both friend and virtue.' The same rule 
 would seem to apply also to the relations of a philo- 
 sopher and his disciples; for desert cannot here be 
 measured in money, and no honour that could be paid 
 him would be an adequate return ; but, nevertheless, 
 as in our relations to gods and parents, the possible 
 is accepted as sufficient. (6) If, however, the first 
 gift has been made, not in this spirit, but on the under- 
 standing that there shall be some return, the return 
 should, if possible, be such as both deem proportionate 
 to desert : but if this cannot be, it would seem to 
 be not only necessary, but just, that the recipient of 
 the first benefit should assess it ; for whatever be the 
 amount of the advantage he has received, or whatever 
 
 &pxios eo"Tw. Hesiod. 
 
1, 6-2, 2.] FRIENDSHIP OB LOVE. 289 
 
 he would have been willing to give for the pleasure, 
 the other, in receiving the same amount, will receive 
 as much as is due from him. For even in sales this 
 9 is plainly what takes place ; and in some states there 
 is no recovery by law in voluntary contracts, as it 
 is held that when you have given a man credit, you 
 must conclude your bargain with him in the same 
 spirit in which you began it. It is held to be fairer 
 that the service should be valued by him who is 
 trusted than by him who trusts. For most things 
 are differently valued by those who have them and 
 by those who wish to get them : what belongs to us, 
 and what we give away, always seems very precious 
 to us. Nevertheless, the return to be made must be 
 measured by the value which is set upon the service 
 by the receiver. But perhaps he ought to put it, not 
 at what it seems to be worth when he has got it, but 
 at the value he set upon it before he had it. 
 
 1 2. There are some further questions that here 
 suggest themselves, such as whether the father's 
 claims to service ought to be unlimited, and the son 
 should obey him in everything, or whether in sick- 
 ness he should obey the physician, and in the election 
 of a general should choose him who is skilled in 
 war ; and, similarly, whether one ought to help one's 
 friend rather than a good man, and repay a benefactor 
 rather than make a present to a comrade, if one 
 cannot do both. 
 
 2 We may, perhaps, say that to lay down precise 
 rules for all such cases is scarcely possible ; for the 
 different cases differ in all sorts of ways, according 
 to the importance or unimportance, the nobility or 
 
 u 
 
290 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 necessity of the act. But it is tolerably evident that z 
 no single person's claims can override all others ; and 
 that, as a general rule, we ought to repay benefits 
 received before we do a favour to a comrade just as, 
 if we had borrowed money, we ought to pay our 
 creditors before we make presents to our comrades. 
 
 But it may be that even this rule will not hold 4 
 good in all cases ; for instance, if a man has been 
 ransomed from a band of brigands, ought he in turn 
 to ransom his ransomer, whoever he may be, or repay 
 him when he demands it, even though he be not 
 captured, in preference to ransoming his father ? For 
 it would seem that a man ought to ransom his father 
 even before himself. 
 
 As we said then, generally speaking, we should s 
 repay what we owe : but if giving [instead of repay- 
 ing] be more noble or meet a more pressing need, it 
 is right to incline in this direction ; for sometimes it 
 is not even fair to repay the original service, e.g. 
 when one man has helped another, knowing him 
 to be a good man, while the latter in repaying him 
 would be helping one whom he believes to be a bad 
 man. And so a man is sometimes not bound to lend 
 in turn to one who has lent him money : A may 
 have lent to B in full expectation of being repaid, 
 as B is an honourable man; but B may have no 
 hope of being repaid by A, who is a rascal. If this 
 be the real state of the case, the demand for a loan 
 in return is not fair ; but even if the facts be other- 
 wise, yet, if they think thus of each other, their con- 
 duct would be regarded as natural. 
 
 As we havo often said, statements concerning 6 
 
2, 3-9.] FKIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 291 
 
 human affections and actions must share the in- 
 definiteness of their subject. 
 
 It is tolerably plain, then, that, on the one hand, 
 the claims of all men are not the same, but that, on 
 the other hand, the father's claims do not override all 
 others, just as Zeus does not receive all our sacrifices; 
 
 7 the claims of parents, brothers, comrades, and bene- 
 factors are all different, and to each must be rendered 
 that which is his own and his due. 
 
 And this is the way in which men appear to act : 
 to a wedding they invite their kinsfolk; for they 
 have a share in the family, and therefore in all acts 
 relating thereto : and for the same reason it is held 
 that kinsfolk have more claim than any others to be 
 invited to funerals. 
 
 8 Parents would seem to have a special claim upon 
 us for sustenance, as we owe it them, and as it is 
 nobler to preserve the life of those to whom we are 
 indebted for our own than to preserve ourselves. 
 
 Honour, also, we should pay to our parents, as to 
 the gods ; but not all honour : for the honour due 
 to a father is not the same as that due to a mother ; 
 nor do we owe them the honour due to a wise man 
 or a good general, but that which is due to a father 
 and that which is due to a mother. 
 
 To all our elders, again, we should pay the honour 
 due to their age, by rising up at their approach and 
 by giving them the place of honour at the table, and 
 so forth. But between comrades and brothers there 
 should be freedom of speech and community in every- 
 thing. And to kinsfolk and fellow-tribesmen and 
 fellow-citizens, and all other persons, we should 
 
292 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BE. IX. 
 
 always try to give their due, and to discriminate 
 what properly belongs to each, according to the close- 
 ness of his connection with us, and his goodness or 
 usefulness. When the persons are of one kind this ] 
 discrimination is comparatively easy, but when they 
 are of different kinds it is more difficult. We must 
 not, however, on this account shirk the difficulty, but 
 must distinguish as best ^. we can. 
 
 3. Another difficult question is, whether we should ] 
 or should not break off friendship with those who 
 have ceased to be what they were. 
 
 We may, perhaps, say that those whose friendship 
 is based on profit or pleasure naturally part when 
 these cease ; for it was these that they loved : when 
 these are gone, therefore, it is to be expected that the 
 love goes too. But complaints would be likely to 
 arise if a man who loved another for profit or plea- 
 sure's sake pretended to love him for his character; 
 for, as we said at the outset, quarrels between friends 
 very frequently arise from a difference between the 
 real and the supposed motives of the friendship. If, 2 
 then, a man deceives himself, and supposes that he 
 is beloved for his character, though the other's be- 
 haviour gives no ground for the supposition, he has 
 only himself to blame ; but if he is deceived by the 
 other's pretence, then there is a fair ground of com- 
 plaint against such an impostor, even more than 
 against those who counterfeit the coinage, inasmuch 
 as it is a more precious thing that is tampered with. 
 
 But if a man admit another to his friendship as 3 
 a good man, and he becomes and shows himself to be 
 a bad man, is he still to be loved ? Perhaps we may 
 

 2, 10-3, 4.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 
 
 29 
 
 answer that it is impossible, as it is not everything 
 that is lovable, but only the good. A bad man, then, 
 is not lovable, and ought not to be loved : for we 
 ought not to love what is bad, nor to make ourselves 
 like what is worthless ; but, as we said before, it is 
 like that makes friends with like. 
 
 Is the friendship, then, to be immediately broken 
 off ? Perhaps not in all cases, but only in the case 
 of those who are incurably bad : when their reforma- 
 tion is possible, we are more bound to help them 
 in their character than their fortune, inasmuch as 
 character is a nobler thing, and has more to do with 
 friendship than fortune has. But a man who with- 
 draws his friendship in such a case, would seem to do 
 nothing unnatural; for it was not with such a man 
 that he made friends : his friend has become another 
 man, and as he cannot restore him, he stands aloof 
 from him. 
 
 But suppose that the one remains what he was 
 while the other gets better and becomes far superior 
 in virtue : is the latter still to treat the former as a 
 friend ? Perhaps it is hardly possible that he should 
 do so. We see this most plainly if the interval be- 
 tween the two be very considerable. Take, for instance, 
 a boyish friendship : if one of the two remains a child 
 in understanding, while the other has become a man 
 in the fullest sense of the word, how can they any 
 longer be friends, now that the things that will please 
 them, and the sources of their joys and sorrows, are 
 no longer the same ? for not even in regard to each 
 other's character will their tastes agree, and without 
 this, we found, people cannot be friends, since they 
 
291 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 A man's 
 relation to 
 hisfrieni 
 like his 
 relation to 
 
 cannot live together. (But this point has been 
 already discussed.) 
 
 Shall we, then, simply say that the latter should 
 regard the former as no more a stranger than if he 
 had never been his friend ? Perhaps we may go 
 further than this, and say that he should not entirely 
 forget their former intercourse, and that just as we 
 hold that we ought to serve friends before strangers, 
 so former friends have some claims upon us on the 
 ground of past friendship, unless extraordinary 
 depravity were the cause of our parting. 
 
 4, Friendly relations to others, and all the charac- 
 teristics by which friendship is defined, seem to be 
 derived from our relations towards ourselves. A 
 friend is sometimes described as one who wishes and 
 does to another what is good or seems good for that 
 other's sake, or as one who wishes his friend to 
 exist and to live for his (the friend's) sake. (This 
 is what mothers feel towards their children, and 
 what friends who have had a difference feel for one 
 another.) Others describe a friend as one who lives 
 with another and chooses what he chooses, or as one 
 who sympathizes with the griefs and joys of his 
 friend. (This, also, is especially the case with 
 mothers.) And, similarly, friendship is usually de- 
 fined by some one or other of these characteristics. 
 
 Now, every one of these characteristics we find 
 in the good man's relations to himself, and in other 
 men so far as they suppose themselves to be good. 
 (For it seems, as we have said, that virtue and the 
 good man are in everything the standard.) 
 
 The good man is of one mind with himself, and 
 
3, 5-4, 5.] FEIENDSH1P OB LOVE. 295 
 
 desires the same things with all his soul, and wishes 
 for himself what both is and seems good, and does 
 that (for it is characteristic of him to work out that 
 which is good) for his own sake for the sake, that 
 is to say, of the rational part of him, which seems to 
 be a man's self. And he wishes his self to live and 
 be preserved, and especially that part of his self by 
 which he thinks : for existence is good to the good 
 man ; and every man wishes for himself that which 
 is good. But no one desires that, as he becomes 
 another man [i.e. as he grows older], that other self 
 should be in all respects the same as his present self. 
 (With God, indeed, this may be, for God already is 
 in complete possession of the good; but that is only 
 as being what he is [not man, but God].) But his 
 reason would seem to be a man's self, or, at least, 
 to be so in a truer sense than any other of his faculties. 
 
 Such a man also wishes to live with himself; for 
 his own company is pleasant to him. The memory 
 of his past life is sweet, and for the future he has 
 good hopes ; and such hopes are pleasant. His mind, 
 moreover, is well stored with matter for contem- 
 plation : and he sympathizes with himself in sorrow 
 and in joy; for at all seasons the same things give 
 him pain and pleasure, not this thing now, and then 
 another thing, for he is, so to speak, not apt to 
 change his mind. 
 
 Since, then, all these characteristics are found in 
 the good man's relations to himself, and since his 
 relations to his friend are the same as his relations to 
 himself (for his friend is his second self), friendship 
 is described by one or other of these characteristics, 
 
296 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 and those are called friends in whom these character- 
 istics are found. 
 
 The question whether friendship towards one's self 6 
 is or is not possible may be dismissed at present ; but 
 that it is possible so far as one has two or more 
 selves would seem to follow from what has been 
 already said, and also from the fact that the extreme 
 of friendship for another is likened to friendship for 
 one's self. 
 
 But the characteristics we have mentioned appear 7 
 to be found in the generality of men, though they are 
 not good.* Perhaps we may say that so far as they 
 are agreeable to themselves, and believe they are good, 
 so far do they share these characteristics. People who 
 are utterly worthless and impious never have them, nor 
 do they even seem to have them. But we might almost 8 
 say roundly that they are wanting in all who are not 
 good ; for such men are not at one with themselves : 
 they desire one thing while they wish another, as the 
 incontinent do, for instance (for, instead of what they 
 hold to be good, they choose what is pleasant though 
 injurious). Others, again, through cowardice or lazi- 
 ness, shrink from doing that which they believe is 
 the best for them ; while those who have done many 
 terrible things out of wickedness, hate life, and wish 
 to get rid of it, and sometimes actually destroy them- 
 selves. 
 
 Bad men try to find people with whom to spend 9 
 their time, and eschew their own company ; for there 
 is much that is painful in the past on which they 
 
 * <f>av\os here as elsewhere includes all who are not good, the 
 incontinent as well as the vicious. 
 
4, 6-5, 2.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 297 
 
 look back and in the future to which they look 
 forward when they are by themselves, but the 
 company of others diverts them from these thoughts. 
 As there is nothing lovable in them, they have no 
 friendly feelings towards themselves. 
 
 He who is not good, then, cannot sympathize with 
 himself in joy or sorrow ; for his soul is divided against 
 itself : one part of him, by reason of its viciousness, is 
 pained at being deprived of something, while another 
 part of him is pleased ; one part pulls this way, another 
 that, tearing him to pieces, as it were, between them. 
 10 Or if it be impossible to be pained and pleased at the 
 same time, yet, at any rate, after a short interval he 
 is pained that he was pleased, and wishes that he had 
 never partaken of this pleasure; for those who are 
 not good are full of remorse. 
 
 Thus we may say roundly that he who is not 
 good has no friendly feelings even for himself, as there 
 is nothing lovable in him. If, then, to be in this state 
 is utterly miserable, we ought to strain every nerve 
 to avoid vice, and try to be good ; for thus we may 
 be friendly disposed towards ourselves, and make 
 friends with others. 
 
 1 5. Well-wishing resembles, but is not the same as, 
 friendship : for we may wish well to those who are 
 unknown to us, and who are not aware that we wish 
 them well; but there can be no friendship in such 
 cases. But this we have already said. 
 
 Neither is well-wishing the same as love; for it 
 has none of the intense emotion and the desire which 
 
 >mpany love. 
 
 Love, moreover, implies intimate acquaintance, 
 
298 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 while well-wishing may spring up in a moment; it 
 does so, for instance, when athletes are competing for 
 a prize : we may wish well to a competitor, and be 
 eager for his success, though we would not do any- 
 thing to help him; for, as we said, we suddenly 
 become well-wishers and conceive a sort of superficial 
 affection in such cases. 
 
 The truth seems to be that well-wishing is the 
 germ of friendship, in the same way as pleasure 
 in the sight of a person is the germ of love : for 
 no one falls in love unless he is first pleased by 
 visible beauty ; but he who delights in the beauty 
 of a person is not one whit in love on that account, 
 unless he also feels the absence and desires the 
 presence of that person. Just so it is impossible for 
 people to be friends unless they first become well- 
 wishers, but people who wish each other well are not 
 a whit on that account friends ; for they merely wish 
 good to those whose well-wishers they are, but would 
 never help them in any enterprise, or put themselves 
 out for them. One might say, then extending the 
 meaning of the term that well-wishing is an un- 
 developed friendship, which with time and intimate 
 acquaintance may become friendship proper, not 
 that friendship whose motive is profit, nor that whose 
 motive is pleasure ; for well-wishing is no element in 
 them. He who has received a benefit does indeed 
 give his good wishes in return to his benefactor, and 
 it is but just that he should ; but he who wishes that 
 another may prosper, in the hope of good things to be 
 got by his means, does not seem really to wish well 
 to the other, but rather to himself, just as he is not 
 
5, 3^6, 2.] FRIENDSHIP OB LOVE. 299 
 
 really a friend if he serves him with an eye to 
 profit. 
 
 4 But, generally speaking, well-wishing is grounded 
 upon some kind of excellence or goodness, and arises 
 when a person seems to us beautiful or brave, or 
 endowed with some other good quality, as we said in 
 the case of the athletes. 
 
 1 6. Unanimity [or unity of sentiment] also seems Friendship 
 to be an element in friendship ; and this shows that unanimity. 
 it is not mere agreement in opinion, for that is 
 possible even between people who know nothing of 
 
 each other. 
 
 Nor do we apply the term to those who agree in 
 judgment upon any kind of subject, e.g. upon astronomy 
 (for being of one mind in these matters has nothing 
 to do with friendship); but we say that unanimity 
 prevails in a state when the citizens agree in their 
 judgments about what is for the common interest, and 
 choose the same course, and carry out the decision 
 
 2 of the community. It is with regard to practical 
 matters, therefore, that people are said to be of one 
 mind, especially with regard to matters of importance 
 and things that may be given to both persons, or to all 
 the persons concerned ; for instance, a state is said to 
 be of one mind when all the citizens are agreed that 
 the magistracies shall be elective, or that an alliance 
 be made with Sparta, or that Pittacus be governor, 
 Pittacus himself being willing to accept the office. 
 But when each wishes the government for himself, 
 like the brothers in the Phoenissce of Euripides, then 
 they are at discord : for being of one mind means 
 that each not merely thinks of the same thing (what- 
 
300 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AK1STOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 Why "bene~ 
 factors love 
 more than 
 they are 
 loved. 
 
 ever it be), but thinks of it under the same con- 
 ditions as, for instance, if both the populace and the 
 upper classes agree that the best men shall govern ; 
 for thus they all get what they want. 
 
 Unanimity, then, seems to be, as it is called, the 
 kind of friendship that prevails in states ; for it has 
 to do with what is for the common interest, and with 
 things that have a considerable influence upon life. 
 
 This kind of unanimity is found in good men ; 
 for they are of one mind with themselves and with 
 each other, standing, so to speak, always on the same 
 ground : for the wishes of such people are constant, 
 and do not ebb and flow like the Euripus ; they wish 
 what is just and for the common interest, and make 
 united efforts to attain it. But people who are not 
 good cannot be of one mind, just as they cannot be 
 friends except for a little space or to a slight extent, 
 as they strive for more than their share of profit, 
 but take less than their share of labours and public 
 services: but every man, while wishing to do this 
 himself, keeps a sharp eye upon his neighbour, and 
 prevents him from doing it ; for if they are not thus 
 on their guard, the community is ruined. The result 
 is that they are at discord, striving to compel one 
 another to do what is just, but not willing to do it 
 themselves, 
 
 7. Benefactors seem to love those whom they have 
 benefited more than those who have received benefits 
 love those who have conferred them; and as this 
 appears irrational, people seek for the cause of this 
 phenomenon. 
 
 Most people think the reason is that the one is in 
 
6, 3-7, 4.] FRIENDSHIP OE LOVE. 301 
 
 the position of a debtor, the other in the position of 
 a creditor; and that, therefore, just as in the case 
 of a loan the debtor wishes his creditor were out of 
 the way, while the lender, on the other hand, is 
 anxious that his debtor may be preserved, so here 
 the benefactor desires the existence of him whom he 
 has benefited in hopes of receiving favours in return, 
 while the other is not at all anxious to repay. 
 
 Epicharmus, indeed, might perhaps say that this 
 is only the view of "those who have bad places 
 at the play," * but it seems to be true to life ; for 
 the generality of men have short memories, and are 
 more eager to receive benefits than to confer them. 
 
 But the real cause would seem to be something 
 that lies deeper in the nature of things, and not like 
 that which operates in the case of creditors : for the 
 creditors have no real affection for their debtors, but 
 only a wish that they may be preserved in order 
 that they may repay ; but those who have conferred 
 benefits have a real love and affection for those whom 
 they have benefited, even though they are not, and 
 are never likely to be, of any service. 
 
 The same phenomenon may be observed in crafts- 
 men ; for every craftsman loves the. work of his own 
 hands more than it would love him if it came to life. 
 But perhaps poets carry it furthest; for they love 
 their own poema to excess, and are as fond of them 
 as if they were their children. 
 
 Now, the case of the benefactors seems to resemble 
 theirs ; those whom they have benefited they have 
 made, so to speak : that which they have made, then, 
 
 * Epicharmus was a Sicilian dramatist. 
 
302 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 they love more than the work loves its maker. And 
 the reason of this is that we all desire existence and 
 love it : but it is in the exercise of our faculties, or in 
 the realization of ourselves, that our existence lies; 
 for it lies in living and doing. But* that which 
 a man makes is, in a way, a realization of his self; 
 therefore he loves it, because he loves existence. 
 
 But this is in accordance with the nature of 
 things ; for it is a law of nature that what a thing 
 is as yet potentially is exhibited in realization by 
 that which it makes or does. 
 
 Moreover, the manifestation of his action is beau- 5 
 tiful to the benefactor, so that he delights in the 
 person that makes it manifest ; but to him who has 
 received the benefit there is nothing beautiful in the 
 benefactor, but at the most something useful ; and 
 such an object is less pleasing and less lovable. 
 
 Again, we take pleasure in realizing ourselves in 6 
 the present, in hopes for the future, and in memories 
 of the past ; but that in which we are realizing our- 
 selves is the most pleasant, and likewise the most 
 lovable. Now, for the benefactor what he has done 
 endures (for that which is beautiful is lasting), while 
 for him who has .received the benefit the advantage 
 soon passes away. 
 
 Again, the memory of beautiful deeds is pleasant, 
 of profitable actions not at all pleasant, or not so 
 pleasant ; but with expectation the reverse seems to 
 be the case. 
 
 Again, loving seems like doing something, being 
 loved like having something done to you. Those 
 
 * Heading 'Evepyetq 8' 6 iroirjffas rb epyov forl iras. 
 
7, 5-8, 2.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 303 
 
 who have the better part in such transactions then 
 naturally feel and show more love. 
 
 Again, we all have more affection for what we have 
 achieved with toil, as those who have made money 
 love it more than those who have inherited it ; now, 
 receiving a benefit seems to involve no labour, while 
 conferring one seems to be troublesome. And for 
 this reason mothers have more affection for their 
 children than fathers; for they have more trouble 
 in giving them birth, and fuller assurance that they 
 are their own. But this would seem to be a charac- 
 teristic of benefactors also. 
 
 8. Another question which is raised is, whether s 
 we ought most to love ourselves or others. 3!f jd? 
 
 We blame, it is said, those who love themselves 
 most, and apply the term self-loving to them as a 
 term of reproach : and, again, he who is not good is 
 thought to have regard to himself in everything that 
 he does, and the more so the worse he is ; and so we 
 accuse him of doing nothing disinterestedly. The 
 good man on the other hand, it is thought, takes 
 what is noble as his motive, and the better he is the 
 more is he guided by this motive, and by regard for 
 his friend, neglecting his own interest. 
 
 But this theory disagrees with facts, nor is it 
 surprising that it should. For it is allowed that we 
 ought to love him most who is most truly a friend, 
 and that he is most truly a friend who, in wishing 
 well to another, wishes well to him for his (the 
 other's) sake, and even though no one should ever 
 know. But all these characteristics, and all the 
 others which go to make up the definition of a friend, 
 
304 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 are found in the highest degree in a man's relations 
 to himself; for we have already seen how it is from 
 our relations to ourselves that all our friendly rela- 
 tions to others are derived. Moreover, all the proverbs 
 point to the same conclusion such as " Friends have 
 one soul," "Friends have all things in common/' 
 " Equality makes friendship," " The knee is nearer 
 than the shia" All these characteristics are found 
 in the highest degree in a man's relations to himself ; 
 for he is his own best friend : and so he must love 
 himself better than any one else. 
 
 People not unnaturally are puzzled to know 
 which of these two statements to adopt, since both 
 appeal to them. 
 
 Perhaps the best method of dealing with con- 
 flicting statements of this kind is to analyze them, 
 and then clearly distinguish how far and in what 
 sense each is right. So here, if we first ascertain 
 what self-loving means in each statement, the diffi- 
 culty will perhaps be cleared up. 
 
 Those who use self-loving as a term of reproach 
 apply the name to those who take more than their 
 due of money, and honour, and bodily pleasures ; for 
 the generality of men desire these things, and set 
 their hearts upon them as the best things in the 
 world, so that they are keenly competed for. Those, 
 then, who grasp at more than their share of these 
 things indulge their animal appetites and their 
 passions generally in a word, the irrational part of 
 their nature. But this is the character of the gene- 
 rality of men; and hence the term self-loving has 
 qorne to be used in this bad sense from the fact that 
 
8, 3-6.] FRIENDSHIP OB LOVE. 305 
 
 the greater part of mankind are not good. It is with 
 justice, then/ that we reproach those who are self- 
 loving in this sense. 
 
 That it really is to those who take more than 
 their due of these things that the term is usually 
 applied by the generality of men^may easily be shown; 
 for if what a man always set his heart upon were 
 that he, rather than another, should do what is just 
 or temperate, or in any other way virtuous if, in a 
 word, he were always claiming the noble course of 
 conduct, no one would call him self-loving and no 
 one would reproach him. 
 
 And yet such a man would seem to be more 
 truly self-loving. At least, he takes for himself that 
 which is noblest and most truly good, and gratifies 
 the ruling power in himself, and in all things obeys 
 it. But just as the ruling part in a state or in any 
 other system seems, more than any other part, to be 
 the state or the system, so also the ruling part of a 
 man seems to be most truly the man's self. He 
 therefore who loves and gratifies this part of himself 
 is most truly self-loving. 
 
 Again, we call a man continent or incontinent,* 
 according as his reason has or has not the mastery, 
 implying that his reason is his self; and when a man 
 has acted under the guidance of his reason he is 
 thought, in the fullest sense, to have done the deed 
 himself, and of his own will. 
 
 It is plain, then, that this part of us is our self, or 
 is most truly our self, and that the good man more 
 
 * fyKpar-f)s, continent, in whom the true masters the false self; 
 , incontinent, in whom the true self is mastered. 
 
 X 
 
306 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 than any other loves this part of himself. He, then, 
 more than any other, will be self-loving, in another 
 sense than the man whom we reproach a.s self-loving, 
 differing from him by all the difference that exists 
 between living according to reason and living accord- 
 ing to passion, between desiring what is noble and 
 desiring what appears to be profitable.- 
 
 Those who beyond other men set their hearts on 
 noble deeds are welcomed and praised by all ; but if 
 all men were vieing with each other in the pursuit 
 of what is noble, and were straining every nerve to 
 act in the noblest possible manner, the result would 
 be that both the wants of the community would be 
 perfectly satisfied, and at the same time each in- 
 dividually would win the greatest of all good things 
 for virtue is that. 
 
 The good man, therefore, ought to be self-loving ; 
 for by doing what is noble he will at once benefit 
 himself and assist others: but the bad man ought 
 not ; for he will injure both himself and his neigh- 
 bours by following passions that are not good. 
 
 Thus, with the bad man there is a discrepancy 
 between what he ought to do and what he does : but 
 with the good man what he ought to do is what he 
 does; for reason always chooses that which is best 
 for itself; and the good man obeys the voice of 
 reason. 
 
 Again, it is quite true to say of the good man 
 that he does many things for the sake of his friends 
 and of his country, and will, if need be, even die for 
 them. He will throw away money and honour, and, 
 in a word, all the good things for which men compete, 
 
8, 7-9, 1.] FKIENDSHIP OB LOVE. 307 
 
 claiming for himself that which is noble ; for he will 
 prefer a brief period of intense pleasure to a long 
 period of mild pleasure, one year of noble life to many 
 years of ordinary life, one great and noble action to 
 many little ones. This, we may perhaps say, is what 
 he gets who gives his life for others : and so he 
 chooses for himself something that is noble on a 
 grand scale. 
 
 Such a man will surrender wealth to enrich his 
 friend : for while his friend gets the money, he gets 
 what is noble; so he takes the greater good for him- 
 self. 
 
 10 His conduct will be the same with regard to 
 honours and offices : he will give up all to his friend ; 
 for this he deems noble and praiseworthy. 
 
 Such a man, then, is not unreasonably considered 
 good, as he chooses what is noble in preference to 
 everything else. 
 
 But, again, it is possible to give up to your friend 
 an opportunity for action, and it may be nobler to 
 cause your friend to do a deed than to do it yourself. 
 
 11 It is plain, then, that in all cases in which he is 
 praised the good man takes for himself a larger share 
 of what is noble. And in this sense, as we have said, 
 a man ought to be self-loving, but not in the sense 
 in which the generality of men are self -loving. 
 
 l 9. Another disputed question is whether a happy why a 
 man needs friends or not. 32 man 
 
 It is said that those who are blessed and self-^ 
 sufficient have no need of friends; for they are already, 
 supplied with good things : as self-sufficient, then 
 they need nothing more, while a friend is an alter ego 
 
308 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 who procures for you what you cannot procure 
 yourself; whence the saying 
 
 " When the god favours you, what need of friends ? " 
 
 But it seems strange, while endowing the happy 2 
 man with all good things, to deny him friends, which 
 are thought to be the greatest of all external goods. 
 
 And if it is more characteristic of a friend to 
 confer than to receive benefits, and if it is character- 
 istic of a good man and a virtuous character to do 
 good to others, and if it is nobler to confer benefits 
 on friends than on strangers, the good man will need 
 friends to receive benefits from him. 
 
 And so people ask whether friends are more 
 needed in prosperity or adversity, considering that 
 in adversity we want some one to help us, and in 
 prosperity some one that we may help. 
 
 Again, it is surely absurd to make the happy man 3 
 a solitary being : for no one would choose to have all 
 conceivable good things on condition of being alone ; 
 for man is a social being, and by nature adapted to 
 share his life with others. The happy man, then, 
 must have this good, since he has whatever is 
 naturally good for man. But it is obvious that it 
 is better to live with friends and good people, than 
 with strangers and casual persons. The happy man, 
 then, must have friends. 
 
 What, then, do those who maintain the former 4 
 opinion mean ? and in what sense are they right ? Is 
 it that the generality of men think that friends means 
 useful people ? Friends in this sense certainly the 
 happy or blessed man will not need, as he already has 
 
9, 2-6.] FEIENDSHIP OE LOVE. 309 
 
 whatever is good. And, again, he will have no need, 
 or but little need, of the friendship that is based on 
 pleasure ; for his life is pleasant and does not require 
 adventitious pleasure. Because he does not need 
 these kind of friends then, people come to think he 
 does not need friends at all. 
 
 5 But I think we may say that this opinion is not 
 true. For we said at the outset that happiness is a 
 certain exercise of our faculties ; but the exercise of 
 our faculties plainly comes to be in time, and is not 
 like a piece of property acquired once for all. But 
 if happiness consists in living and exercising our 
 faculties; and if the exercise of the good man's 
 faculties is good and pleasant in itself, as we said 
 at the outset ; and if the sense that a thing belongs 
 to us is one of the sources of pleasure, but it is easier 
 to contemplate others than ourselves, and others' acts 
 than our own then the acts of the good men who 
 are his friends are pleasant to the good man ; for both 
 the natural sources of pleasure are united in them.* 
 The happy or blessed man, then, will need such friends, 
 since he desires to contemplate acts that are good and 
 belong to him, and such are the acts of a good man 
 who is his friend. 
 
 Again, it is thought that the happy man's life 
 must be pleasant. Now, if he is solitary, life is hard 
 for him ; for it is very difficult to be continuously 
 active by one's self, but not so difficult along with 
 
 6 others, and in relation to others. With friends, then, 
 the exercise of his faculties will be more continuous, 
 being pleasant in itself. And this is what ought 
 
 * (1) They are good, (2) they belong to him. 
 
310 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OP AEISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 to be the case with the blessed man ; for the good 
 man, as such, delights in acts of virtue and is vexed 
 by acts of vice, just as a musician is pleased by good 
 music and pained by bad. 
 
 Again, he would get a sort of practice in virtue by 7 
 living with good men, as Theognis says.* 
 
 But if we look a little deeper into the nature of 
 things, a good friend appears to be naturally desirable 
 to the good man : 
 
 What is naturally good, we have already said, is 
 good and pleasant in itself to the good man. 
 
 Now, life is defined in the case of animals by the 
 power of feeling, in the case of man by the power of 
 feeling or thought: but the power involves refer- 
 ence to its exercise ; and it is in this exercise that the 
 reality lies : life, then, in its reality, seems to be 
 feeling or thinking. 
 
 Life, again, is one of the things that are good and 
 pleasant in themselves; for it is determinate or 
 formed, and the determinate or formed is of the 
 nature of the good ; but that which is naturally [or in 
 itself] good is good to the good man. (And hence life 
 seems to be pleasant to all men. But by life we must 8 
 not understand a bad or corrupt life, or a life of pain ; 
 for such a life is formless, as are all its constituents. 
 We shall endeavour, presently, to throw some light on 
 the nature of pain.) 
 
 Life itself, then, is good and pleasant (as appears 9 
 also from the fact that all desire it, and especially 
 the good and the blessed ; for life is most desirable 
 to them, and their life is the most blessed). 
 * C/. the last words of this book. 
 
9, 7-10.] FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 311 
 
 But he who sees feels that he sees, and he who 
 hears feels that he hears, and he who walks feels that 
 he walks; and similarly, whatever else we do, there 
 is something that perceives that we are putting forth 
 power, so that we must feel that we feel, and know 
 that we know. 
 
 But to feel that we feel, or to know that we know, 
 is to feel or to know that we exist ; for our existence, 
 we found, is feeling or knowing. 
 
 But to feel that we exist is a thing that is pleasant 
 in itself; for life is naturally good, and to feel that 
 one has a good is pleasant. 
 
 Life, then, is desirable, and most of all desirable 
 to the good man, because his existence is good to 
 him, and pleasant ; for he is pleased by the conscious- 
 ness of that which is good in itself. 
 
 But the good man stands in the same relation to 
 his friend as to himself, for his friend is another self: 
 just as his own existence, then, is desirable to each, 
 so, or nearly so, is his friend's existence desirable. 
 
 But existence, we found, is desirable because of the 
 feeling that one's self is good, such a feeling being 
 pleasant in itself. 
 
 The good man, then, should be conscious of the 
 existence of his friend also, and this consciousness will 
 be given by living with him and by rational converse 
 with him (for this would seem to be the proper mean- 
 ing of living together, when applied to man, and not 
 merely feeding in the same place, which it means 
 when applied to beasts). 
 
 Putting all this together, then, if his own existence 
 is desirable in itself to the good man, being naturally 
 
312 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 good and pleasant, and if his friend's existence is also 
 desirable to him in nearly the same way, it follows 
 that a friend is a desirable thing for him. But that 
 which is desirable for him he ought to have, or in 
 that respect he will be incomplete. Our conclusion, 
 therefore, is that he who is to be happy must have 
 good friends. 
 of the proper 10. Are we to make as many friends as possible ? l 
 
 number of *. c 
 
 friends. or, as in the case of guest-friendship * we approve ot 
 the saying, "neither a host of guest-friends nor yet 
 none," shall we say that in the case of friendship 
 also it is best neither to be friendless nor yet to have 
 too many friends ? 
 
 With regard to friends who are chosen with a 2 
 view to being useful, the saying would seem to be 
 perfectly appropriate; for it would be troublesome 
 to repay the services of a large number, and indeed 
 life is not long enough to enable us to do it. Of such 
 friends, therefore, a larger number than is sufficient 
 for one's own life would be superfluous and a hin- 
 drance to noble living ; so we do not want more than 
 that number. 
 
 Again, of friends chosen with a view to pleasure 
 a small number is enough, as a. small proportion of 
 sweets is enough in our diet. 
 
 But are we to have as many good men for friends 3 
 as we can, or is there any limit of numbers in friend- 
 ship, as there is in a state ? for you could not make 
 a state out of ten men, and if you had a hundred 
 thousand your state would cease to be a state. But 
 perhaps the right number of citizens is not one fixed 
 * Cf. note on viii. 3, 4. 
 
10, 1-6.] FKIENDSHIP OR LOVE. 313 
 
 number, but any number within certain limits. And 
 so with friends there is a limit to their number, and 
 that is, we may say, the largest number that one can 
 
 4 live with ; for living together is, as we saw, one of the 
 most essential characteristics of friendship, and it is 
 quite evident that it is impossible to live with and 
 spread one's self abroad among a large number. 
 
 Moreover, a man's friends must be friends with 
 one another, if all are to spend their time together ; 
 but this is difficult with a large number. 
 
 5 Again, it becomes hard for him to sympathize 
 duly with the joys and sorrows of a large number ; 
 for then he is likely to have at the same time to 
 rejoice with one and to grieve with another. Per- 
 haps, then, the best plan is not to try to have as 
 many friends as possible, but so many as are suffi- 
 cient for a life in common ; and indeed it would be 
 impossible to have an ardent friendship with a great 
 number. 
 
 And, for the same reason, it is impossible to be in 
 love with many persons at once ; for it seems that 
 love is a sort of superlative friendship, and that this 
 is only possible towards one person, and an ardent 
 friendship towards a few only. 
 
 6 And this seems, in fact, to happen : we do not 
 find a number of people bound together by the sort 
 of friendship that exists between comrades, but the 
 friendships that the poets celebrate are friendships of 
 two persons. And the man of many friends, who is 
 hail-fellow-well-met with everybody, seems to be 
 really friends with no one (in any other way than as 
 fellow-citizens are friends) I mean the man whom 
 we call obsequious. 
 
314 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. IX. 
 
 After the manner of fellow-citizens, indeed, it is 
 possible to be friends with a great number, and yet 
 not to be obsequious, but to be a truly good man ; but 
 that kind of friendship which is based on virtue and 
 on regard for the friend's self one cannot have for 
 many, but must be well satisfied if one can find even 
 a few such persons. 
 
 Friends 11. Is it in prosperity or adversity that we most 1 
 
 'in pro*p*rity need friends ? For under both circumstances we 
 *%. ' have recourse to them : in misfortune we need help, 
 in prosperity we need people to live with and to do 
 good to ; for we wish to do good. 
 
 In adversity, it may be answered, the need is 
 more pressing ; we then require useful friends : but 
 friendship is a nobler thing in prosperity; we then 
 seek out good men for friends ; for it is more desirable 
 to do good to and to live with such people. 
 
 The mere presence of friends is sweet, even in 2 
 misfortune ; for our grief is lightened when our 
 friends share it. And so it might be asked whether 
 they literally take a share of it as of a weight, or' 
 whether it is not so, but rather that their presence, 
 which is sweet, and the consciousness of their sym- 
 pathy, make our grief less. But whether this or 
 something else be the cause of the relief, we need not 
 further inquire ; the fact is evidently as we said. 
 
 But their presence seems to be complex in its 
 effects. On the one hand, the mere sight of friends 3 
 is pleasant, especially when we are in adversity, and 
 contributes something to assuage our grief; for a 
 friend can do much to comfort us both by sight and 
 speech, if he has tact : he knows our character, and 
 
11, 1-6.] FKIENDSHIP OB LOVE. 315 
 
 4 what pleases and what pains us. But, on the other 
 hand, to see another grieving over our misfortunes is 
 a painful thing; for every one dislikes to be the 
 cause of sorrow to his friends. For this reason he 
 who is of a manly nature takes care not to impart 
 his grief to his friends, shrinking from the pain that 
 would give them, unless this is quite outweighed by 
 the relief it would give him ; * and generally he does 
 not allow others to lament with him, as he is not 
 given to lamentations himself; but weak women 
 and effeminate men delight in those who lament with 
 them, and love them as friends and sympathizers. 
 (But evidently we ought in all circumstances to take 
 the better man for our model.) 
 
 In prosperity, again, the presence of friends not 
 only makes thje time pass pleasantly, but also brings 
 the consciousness that our friends are pleased at our 
 good fortune. And for this reason it would seem 
 that we should be eager to invite our friends to share 
 our prosperity, for it is noble to be ready to confer 
 benefits, but slow to summon them to us in adversity, 
 for we ought to be loth to give others a share of our 
 evil things : whence comes the saying, " That I am in 
 sorrow is sorrow enough." But we should be least 
 unwilling to call them in when they will be likely to 
 relieve us much without being greatly troubled them- 
 selves. 
 
 6 But, on the other hand, when our friends are in 
 trouble, we should, I think, go to them unsummoned 
 and readily (for it is a friend's office to serve his 
 friend, and especially when he is in need and does not 
 
 * See a few lines on, end of 5. 
 
316 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [Bn. IX. 
 
 claim assistance, for then it is nobler and pleasanter 
 to both) : when they are in prosperity, we should go 
 readily to help them (for this is one of the uses of a 
 friend), but not so readily to share their good things ; 
 for it is not a noble thing to be very ready to receive 
 a benefit. But we may add that we ought to be 
 careful that our refusal shall not seem ungracious, as 
 sometimes happens. 
 
 The presence of friends, then, in conclusion, is 
 manifestly desirable on all occasions. 
 
 ^' -k vers delight above all things in the sight : 
 ^ eac ^ t aer > an d prefer the gratification of this 
 sense to that of all the others, as this sense is more 
 concerned than any other in the being and origin of 
 love. In like manner, we may venture to say, do 
 friends find living together more desirable than any- 
 thing else ; for friendship is essentially community. 
 
 Moreover, a man stands to his friend in the same 
 relation in which he stands to himself: but with 
 regard to himself the feeling of existence is desirable ; 
 therefore the same feeling with regard to his friend is 
 desirable. But it is in a common life that they attain 
 this feeling ; therefore they naturally desire a life in 
 common. 
 
 Again, whatever that be which a man holds to 2 
 constitute existence, or for the sake of which he 
 chooses to live, in that he wishes to pass his time 
 together with his friends ; and thus some drink to- 
 gether, others gamble, others practise gymnastics, or 
 hunt, or study philosophy together in each case 
 spending their time together in that which they love 
 moat of all things in life; for, wishing to live in 
 
12, 1-3.] FRIENDSHIP OB LOVE. 317 
 
 common with their friends, they do those things and 
 take part together in those things which, as they 
 think, constitute life in common. 
 
 Thus the friendship of those who are not good 
 comes to be positively bad ; for, having no stability of 
 character, they confirm each other in things that are not 
 good, and thus become positively bad as they become 
 more like one another. But the friendship of good 
 men is good, and grows with their intercourse ; and 
 they seem to become better as they exercise their 
 faculties and correct each other's deficiencies : for 
 each moulds himself to the likeness of that which 
 he approves in the other ; whence the saying, " From 
 good men thou shalt learn good things." * 
 
 So much, then, for friendship. We will now pass 
 to the consideration of pleasure. 
 
 > &TT' e'a0A.& /Mid^crccu. Theognia. 
 
BOOK X. 
 
 CHAPTERS 1-5. PLEASURE. 
 
 ! C>UR next business, I think, should be to treat 
 of pleasure. For pleasure seems, more than anything 
 else, to have an intimate connection with our nature ; 
 which is the reason why, in educating the young, we 
 use pleasure and pain as the rudders of their course. 
 Moreover, delight in what we ought to delight in, and 
 hatred of what we ought to hate, seem to be of the 
 utmost importance in the formation of a virtuous 
 character; for these feelings pervade the whole of 
 life, and have power to draw a man to virtue and 
 happiness, as we choose what pleases, and shun what 
 pains us. 
 
 And it would seem that the discussion of these 
 matters is especially incumbent on us, since there 
 is much dispute about them. There are people 
 who say that the good is pleasure, and there are 
 people who say, on the contrary, that pleasure is 
 altogether bad some, perhaps, in the conviction that 
 it is really so, others because they think it has a 
 good effect on men's lives to assert that pleasure is a 
 bad thing, even though it be not; for the generality 
 
1, 1-2, 1.] PLEASURE. 319 
 
 of men, they say, incline this way, and are slaves to 
 their pleasures, so that they ought to be pulled in the 
 opposite direction : for thus they will be brought into 
 the middle course. 
 
 But I cannot think that it is right to speak thus. 
 For assertions about matters of feeling and conduct 
 carry less weight than actions ; and so, when assertions 
 are found to be at variance with palpable facts, they 
 fall into contempt, and bring the truth also into dis- 
 credit. Thus, when a man who speaks ill of pleasure 
 is seen at times tu desire it himself, he is thought to 
 show by the fact of being attracted by it that he really 
 considers all pleasure desirable ; for the generality of 
 men are not able to draw fine distinctions. j^It seems, 
 then, that true statements are the most useful, for 
 practice as well as for theory j^jfor, being in harmony 
 with facts, they gain credeflce, and so incline those 
 who understand them to regulate their lives by them. 
 But enough of this : let us now go through the current 
 opinions about pleasure. 
 
 2. Eudoxus thought pleasure was the good, because! Arguments 
 
 & * I of Eudoxus 
 
 he saw that all beings, both rational and irrational! ^atpieasu^ 
 
 Tisjhegood. 
 
 strive after it ; but in all cases, he said, that which is 
 desirable * is good, and that which is most desirable 
 is best : the fact, then, that all beings incline to one 
 and the same thing indicates that this is the best 
 thing for all ; for each being finds out what is good 
 for itself its food, for instance : that, then, which is 
 good for all, and which all strive after, is the good. 
 The statements of Eudoxus were accepted rather 
 
 * rbaipcrrfp covers, as no English word can, the transition. from 
 desired to desirable. 
 
320 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 because of the excellence of his character than on 
 their own account; for he seemed to be a remark- 
 ably temperate man ; and so people thought that it 
 was not from love of pleasure that he spoke thus, but 
 that what he said really was the fact. 
 
 Eudoxus also thought that his point could be 
 proved no less clearly by the argument from the 
 opposite of pleasure : pain is; in itself, an object of 
 aversion to all beings ; therefore its opposite is desir- 
 able for all. 
 
 4-gain, he argued, that is most desirable which we 
 choose, not on account of something else, but for its 
 own sake : but this is admitted to be the case with 
 pleasure ; for we never ask a man for his motive in 
 taking pleasure, it being understood that pleasure is 
 in itself desirable. 
 
 Again, he argued that any good thing whatso- 
 ever is made more desirable by the addition of 
 pleasure, e.g. just or temperate conduct; but it can 
 only be by the good that the good is increased. 
 
 Now, this last argument seems indeed to show 
 that pleasure is a good thing, but not that it is one 
 whit better than any other good thing ; for any good 
 thing is more desirable with the addition of another 
 good thing than by itself. 
 
 Nay, Plato actually employs a similar argument 
 to show that pleasure is not the good. " The pleasant 
 life," he says, "is more desirable with wisdom than 
 without : but if the combination of the two be better, 
 pleasure itself cannot be the good ; for no addition can 
 make the good itself more desirable." And it is equally 
 evident that, if any other thing be made more desir- 
 
2, 2-5.] PLEASURE. 321 
 
 able by the addition of one of the class of things that 
 are good in themselves, that thing cannot be the good. 
 
 4 What good is there, then, which is thus incapable of 
 addition, and at the same time such that men can 
 participate in it ? For that is the sort of good that 
 we want. 
 
 But those who maintain, on the contrary, that 
 what all desire is not good, surely talk nonsense. 
 What all men think, that, we say, is true. And to 
 him who bids us put no trust in the opinion of man- 
 kind, we reply that we can scarce put greater trust in 
 his opinion. If it were merely irrational creatures 
 that desired these things, there might be something 
 in what he says; but as rational beings also desire 
 them, how can it be anything but nonsense ? Indeed, 
 it may be that even in inferior beings there is some 
 natural principle of good stronger than themselves, 
 which strives after their proper good. 
 
 5 Again, what the adversaries of Eudoxus^say about 
 his ..argument from the nature of the opposite of 
 pleasure^jdoes not seem to be sounxT They say that, 
 though pain beTad, yet it does not follow that 
 pleasure is good ; for one bad thing may be opposed 
 to another bad thing, and both to a third thing which 
 is different from either.* Now, though this is not a 
 bad remark, it does not hold true in the present 
 instance. For if both were bad, both alike ought to 
 be shunned, or if neither were bad, neither should be 
 shunned, or, at least, one no more than the other: 
 but, as it is, men evidently shun the one as bad and 
 
 * The neutral state, neither pleasure nor pain, which they hold 
 to be good. 
 
 Y 
 
22 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 choose the other as good; they are, in fact, there- 
 fore, opposed to one another in this respect. 
 
 **' -^-o a ^ even though pleasure is not a quality, i 
 it does not follow that it is not a good thing. The 
 
 that it is not 
 
 exerc i se OI% virtue, happiness itself, is not a quality. 
 
 -^ * s kj ec ted, again, that the good is determinate, 2 
 while pleasure is indeterminate, because it admits of 
 a more an( i a less. 
 
 Now, if they say this because one may be more 
 or less pleased, then the same thing may be said of 
 justice and the other virtues; for it is plain that, with 
 regard to them, we speak of people as more or less 
 virtuous : some men are more just and more brave 
 than others, and it is possible to act more or less 
 justly and temperately. 
 
 But if they mean that one pleasure may be more 
 or less of a pleasure than another, I suspect that they 
 miss the real reason when they say it is because 
 some are pure and some are mixed. Why should it 3 
 not be the same with pleasure as with health, which, 
 though something determinate, yet allows of more 
 and less ? For the due proportion of elements 
 [which constitutes health] is not the same for all, nor 
 always the same for the same person, but may vary 
 within certain limits without losing its character, 
 being now more and now less truly health. And it 
 may be the same with pleasure. 
 
 Again, assuming that the good is complete, while 4 
 motion and coming into being are incomplete, they try 
 to show that pleasure is a motion and a coming into 
 being. 
 
 But they do not seem to be right even in saying 
 
3, 1-7.] PLEASURE. 323 
 
 that it is a motion : for every motion seems necessarily 
 to be quick or slow, either absolutely, as the motion of 
 the universe, or relatively; but pleasure is neither 
 quick nor slow. It is, indeed, possible to be quickly 
 pleased, as to be quickly angered ; the feeling, how- 
 ever, cannot be quick, even relatively, as can walk- 
 ing and growing, etc. The passage to a state of 
 pleasure, then, may be quick or slow, but the exercise 
 of the power, i.e. the feeling of pleasure, cannot be 
 quick. 
 
 Again, how can pleasure be a coming into being ? 
 
 It seems that it is not possible for anything to 
 come out of just anything, but what a thing comes 
 out of, that it is resolved into. Pain, then, must be 
 the dissolution of that whose coming into being is plea- 
 sure. Accordingly, they maintain that pain is falling 
 short of the normal state, pleasure its replenishment. 
 
 But these are bodily processes. If, then, pleasure 
 be the replenishment of the normal state, that in which 
 the replenishment takes place, i.e. the body, must be 
 that which is pleased. But this does not seem to be 
 the case. Pleasure, therefore, is not a replenishment, 
 but while the process of replenishment is going on we 
 may be pleased, and while the process of exhaustion 
 is going on we may be pained.* 
 
 This view of pleasure seems to have been suggested 
 by the pleasures and pains connected with nutrition ; 
 for there it is true that we come into a state of want, 
 and, after previous pain, find pleasure in replenish- 
 ment. But this is not the case with all pleasures ; 
 for there is no previous pain involved in the pleasures 
 
 * Adopting Spengel's conjecture, tcfvovpfvos for rfp.v6fj.fvos. 
 
324 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 of the mathematician, nor among the sensuous plea- 
 sures in those of smell, nor, again, in many kinds of 
 sights and sounds, nor in memories and hopes. What 
 is there, then, of which these pleasures are the be- 
 coming ? Here there is nothing lacking that can be 
 replenished. 
 
 To those, again, who [in order to show that 8 
 pleasure is not good] adduce the disgraceful kinds of 
 pleasure we might reply that these things are not 
 pleasant. Though they be pleasant to ill-conditioned 
 persons, we must not therefore hold them to be 
 pleasant except to them ; just as we do not hold that 
 to be wholesome, or sweet, or bitter, which is whole- 
 some, sweet, or bitter to the sick man, or that to be 
 white which appears white to a man with ophthalmia. 
 
 Or, again, we might reply that these pleasures 9 
 are desirable, but not when derived from these 
 sources, just as it is desirable to be rich, but not at 
 the cost of treachery, and desirable to be in health, 
 but not at the cost of eating any kind of abominable 
 food. 
 
 Or we might say that the pleasures are specifically 10 
 different. The pleasures derived from noble sources 
 are different from those derived from base sources, 
 and it is impossible to feel the just man's pleasure 
 without being just, or the musical man's pleasure 
 without being musical, and so on with the rest. 
 
 The distinction drawn between the true friend 11 
 and the flatterer seems to show either that pleasure is 
 not good, or else that pleasures differ in kind. For 
 the former in his intercourse is thought to have the 
 good in view, the latter pleasure ; and while we blame 
 
3, 8-4, 2.] PLEASURE. 325 
 
 the latter, we praise the former as having a different 
 aim in his intercourse. 
 
 12 Again, no one would choose to live on condition 
 of having a child's intellect all his life, though he 
 were to enjoy in the highest possible degree all the 
 pleasures of a child ; nor choose to gain enjoyment by 
 the performance of some extremely disgraceful act, 
 though he were never to feel pain. 
 
 There are many things, too, which we should care 
 for, even though they brought no pleasure, as sight, 
 memory, knowledge, moral and intellectual excellence. 
 Even if we grant that pleasure necessarily accom- 
 panies them, this does not affect the question ; for we 
 should choose them even if no pleasure resulted from 
 them. 
 
 13 It seems to be evident, then, that pleasure is not 
 the good, nor are all pleasures desirable, but that some 
 are desirable, differing in kind, or in their sources, 
 from those that are not desirable. Let this be taken 
 then as a sufficient account of the current opinions 
 about pleasure and pain. 
 
 1 4. As to the nature or quality of pleasure, we shall Pi 
 
 J r defined: it 
 
 more readily discover it if we make a fresh start as 
 
 follows :- 
 
 Vision seems to be perfect or complete at any 
 
 moment; for it does not lack anything which can 
 
 be added afterwards to make its nature complete. 
 J Pleasure seems in this respect to resemble vision ; for 
 ( it is something whole and entire, and it would be 
 Vjmpossible at any moment to find a pleasure which 
 
 would become complete by lasting longer. 
 
 2 Therefore pleasure is not a motion; for every 
 
326 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BE. X. 
 
 motion requires time and implies an end; e.g. the 
 motion or process of building is complete when the 
 required structure is made either in the whole time 
 therefore, or in this final moment of it. But in the 
 several portions of this time all the motions are in- 
 complete, and specifically different from the whole 
 motion and from each other ; the fitting together of 
 the stones is different from the fluting of the pillar, 
 and both from the building of the temple. The 
 building of the temple is complete ; nothing more is 
 required for the execution of the plan. But the 
 building of the foundation and of the triglyph are 
 incomplete ; for each is the building of a part only. 
 These motions, then, are specifically different from 
 one another, and it is impossible to find a motion 
 whose nature is complete at any moment it is com- 
 plete, if at all, only in the whole time. 
 
 It is the same also with walking and the other 3 
 kinds of locomotion. For though all locomotion is a 
 motion from one place to another, yet there are dis- 
 tinct kinds of locomotion, as flying, walking, leaping, 
 etc. Nay, not only so, but even in walking itself 
 there are differences, for the whence and whither are 
 not the same in the entire course and in a portion 
 of the course, or in this portion and in that, nor is 
 crossing this line the same as crossing that ; for you 
 do not cross a line simply, but a line that is in a given 
 place, and this line is in a different place from that. 
 I must refer to my other works * for a detailed dis- 
 
 * Physics, Book iii. f. : cf. especially viii. 8, 264 b, 27, quoted by 
 Ramsauer, who founds on it an ingenious emendation of this 
 passage. 
 
4, 3-5.] PLEASUKE. 327 
 
 cussion of motion; but it seems that it is not complete 
 at any moment, but that its several parts are incom- 
 plete, and that they are specifically different from 
 one another, the whence and whither being a specific 
 difference. 
 
 Pleasure, on the other hand, is complete in its 
 nature at any moment. It is evident, therefore, that 
 these two must be distinct from each other, and that 
 pleasure must be one of the class of whole and 
 complete things. And this would also seem to follow 
 from the fact that though duration is necessary for 
 motion, it is not necessary for pleasure for a 
 momentary pleasure is something whole and entire. 
 
 From these considerations it is plain that they 
 are wrong in saying that pleasure is a motion or a 
 coming into being. For these terms are not applied 
 to every thing, but only to those things that are 
 divisible into parts and are not wholes. We cannot 
 speak of the coming into being of vision, or of a 
 mathematical point, or of unity ; nor is any one of 
 them a motion or a coming into being. And these 
 terms are equally inapplicable to pleasure; for it is 
 something whole and entire. 
 
 Each sense exercises itself upon its proper object, 
 and exercises itself completely when it is in good 
 condition and the object is the noblest of those that 
 fall within its scope ; for the complete exercise of a 
 faculty seems to mean this ; and we may assume that 
 it makes no difference whether we speak of the sense, 
 or of the sensitive subject as exercising itself: in 
 either case, then, we may say that the exercise is best 
 when on the one side you have the finest .condition, * 
 
328 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 and on the other the highest of the objects that fall 
 within the scope of this faculty. 
 
 But this exercise of the faculty will be not only 
 the most complete, but also the pleasantest : for the 
 exercise of every sense is attended with pleasure, and 
 so is the exercise of reason and the speculative faculty; 
 and it is pleasantest when it is most complete, and it 
 is most complete when the faculty is well-trained 
 and the object is the best of those that fall under this 
 faculty. 
 
 And, further, the pleasure completes the exercise 6 
 of the faculty. But the pleasure completes it in a 
 different way from that in which the object and the 
 faculty of sense complete it, when both are as they 
 should be ; just as health causes healthy activities in 
 a different way from that in which the physician 
 causes them. 
 
 (That the exercise of every sense is accompanied 7 
 by pleasure is evident : we speak of pleasant sights 
 and pleasant sounds. 
 
 It is evident also that the pleasure is greatest 
 when both the faculty and that upon which it is 
 exercised are as good as they can be: when this is the 
 case both with the object of sense and the sentient 
 subject, there will always be pleasure, so long, that is, 
 as you have the subject to act and the object to be 
 acted upon.) 
 
 Now, the pleasure makes the exercise complete 8 
 not as the habit or trained faculty* does, being 
 
 * As already remarked, there is no one English word which 
 includes these various senses of fw, (1) habit of body, (2) moral 
 habit or character, (3) intellectual habit or trained faculty. 
 
4, 6-10.] PLEASURE. 329 
 
 already present in the subject, but as a sort of super- 
 added completeness, like the grace of youth.* 
 
 So long, then, as both the object of thought or of / 
 sense and the perceptive or contemplative subject are 
 as they ought to be, so long will there be pleasure in 
 the exercise ; for so long as the object to be acted 
 upon and the subject that is able to act remain the 
 same, and maintain the same relation to each other, 
 the result must be the same. 
 
 How is it, then, that we are incapable of continuous 
 pleasure? Perhaps the reason is that we become 
 exhausted; for no human faculty is capable of con- 
 tinuous exercise. Pleasure, then, also cannot be con- 
 tinuous; for it is an accompaniment of the exercise 
 of faculty. And for the same reason some things 
 please us when new, but afterwards please us less. 
 For at first the intellect is stimulated and exercises 
 itself upon them strenuously, just as we strain our 
 eyes to look hard at something ; but after a time the 
 exertion ceases to be so intense, and becomes relaxed; 
 and so the pleasure also loses its keenness. 
 
 The desire for pleasure we should expect to be 
 shared by all men, seeing that all desire to live. 
 
 But life is an exercise of faculties, and each man 
 exercises the faculties he most loves upon the things 
 he most loves; e.g. the musical man exercises his 
 hearing upon melodies, and the studious man exer- 
 
 * At other periods of life the various organs of the body may 
 perform their functions completely, but in youth this is accompanied 
 by an inexpressible charm which all other ages lack. 
 
 The only analogy between pleasure and the doctor is that both 
 " complete the activity " from outside : medicines alter the functions ; 
 pleasure, like beauty, does not alter them, but is an added perfection. 
 
330 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 cises his intellect upon matters of speculation, and so 
 on with the rest. 
 
 And pleasure completes the exercise of faculties, 
 and therefore life, which men desire. 
 
 Naturally, therefore, men desire pleasure too ; for 
 each man finds in it the completion of his life, which 
 is desirable. 
 
 But whether we desire life for the sake of plea- l 
 sure, or pleasure for the sake of life, is a question 
 which we may dismiss for the present. For the two 
 seem to be joined together, and not to admit of 
 separation : without exercise of faculties there is no 
 pleasure, and every such exercise is completed by 
 pleasure. 
 
 pleasures 5, And from this it seems to follow that pleasures l 
 
 drdlnTio differ in kind, since specifically different things we 
 ne standard believe to be completed by specifically different things. 
 For this seems to be the case with the products both 
 of nature and ef art, as animals and trees, paintings, 
 sculptures, houses, and furniture. Similarly, then, 
 we believe that exercises of faculty which differ in 
 kind are completed by things different in kind. 
 
 But the exercises of the intellectual faculties are 2 
 specifically different from the exercises of the senses, 
 F and the several kinds of each from one another; 
 therefore the pleasures which complete them are also 
 different. 
 
 The same conclusion would seem to follow from 
 the close connection that exists between each pleasure 
 and the exercise of faculty which it completes. For 
 the exercise is increased by its proper pleasure ; e.g. 
 people are more likely to understand any matter, and 
 
4, 11-5, 5.] PLEASURE. 331 
 
 to go to the bottom of it, if the exercise is pleasant to 
 them. Thus, those who delight in geometry become 
 geometricians, and understand all the propositions 
 better than others ; and similarly, those who are fond 
 of music, or of architecture, or of anything else, make 
 progress in that kind of work, because they delight in 
 it. The pleasures, then, help to increase the exercise ; 
 but that which helps to increase it must be closely 
 connected with it : but when things are specifically 
 different from one another, the things that are closely 
 connected with them must also be specifically different. 
 
 The same conclusion follows perhaps still more 
 clearly from the fact that the exercise of one faculty 
 is impeded by the pleasure proper to another ; e.g. 
 a lover of the flute is unable to attend to an argu- 
 ment if he hears a man playing, since he takes more 
 delight in flute-playing than in his present business ; 
 the pleasure of the flute-player, therefore, hinders 
 the exercise of the reason. 
 
 The same result follows in other cases, too, when- 
 ever a man is exercising his faculties on two things 
 at a time ; the pleasanter business thwarts the other, 
 and, if the difference in pleasantness be great, thwarts 
 it more and more, even to the extent of suppressing 
 it altogether. Thus, when anything gives us intense 
 delight, we cannot do anything else at all, and when 
 we do a second thing, we do not very much care about 
 the first; and so people who eat sweetmeats in the 
 theatre do this most of all when the actors are bad. 
 
 Since its proper pleasure heightens the exercise 
 of a faculty, making it both more prolonged and 
 better, while pleasure from another source spoils it, 
 
332 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ABISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 it is evident that there is a great difference between 
 these two pleasures. Indeed, pleasure from another 
 source has almost the same effect as pain from the 
 activity itself. For the exercise of a faculty is spoilt 
 by pain arising from it; as happens, for instance, 
 when a man finds it disagreeable and painful to write 
 or to calculate; for he stops writing in the one 
 case and calculating in the other, since the exer- 
 cise is painful. The exercise of a faculty, then, is 
 affected in opposite ways by its proper pleasure and its 
 proper pain; and by "proper" I mean that which is 
 occasioned by the exercise itself. But pleasure from 
 another source, we have already said, has almost the 
 same effect as its proper pain ; i.e. it interferes with the 
 exercise of the faculty, though not to the same extent. 
 
 Again, as the exercises of our faculties differ in 6 
 goodness and badness, and some are to be desired and 
 some to be shunned, while some are indifferent, so do 
 the several pleasures differ ; for each exercise has its 
 proper pleasure. The pleasure which is proper to a 
 good activity, then, is good, and that which is proper 
 to one that is not good is bad : for the desire of noble 
 things is laudable, and the desire of base things is 
 blamable ; but the pleasures which accompany the 
 exercises of our faculties belong to them even more 
 than the desires do, since the latter are distinct both in 
 time and in nature, while the former are almost coin- 
 cident in time, and so hard to distinguish from them 
 that it is a matter of debate whether the exercise be 
 not identical with the pleasure. 
 
 It seems, however, that the pleasure is not the 7 
 same as the act of thinking or of feeling ; that is im- 
 

 
 5, 6-9.] PLEASUEE. 333 
 
 possible : but the fact that the two are inseparable 
 makes some people fancy that they are identical. 
 
 As, then, the exercises of the faculties vary, so do 
 their respective pleasures. Sight is purer than touch, 
 hearing and smell than taste * : there is a correspond- 
 ing difference, therefore, between their pleasures ; and 
 the pleasures of the intellect are purer than these 
 pleasures of sense, and some of each kind are purer 
 than others. 
 
 8 Each kind of being, again, seems to have its 
 proper pleasure, as it has its proper function, viz. the 
 pleasure which accompanies the exercise of its faculties 
 or the realization of its nature. And a separate con- 
 sideration of the several kinds of animals will confirm 
 this : the pleasures of a horse, a dog, and a man are 
 all different as Heraclitus says, a donkey would 
 prefer hay to gold; for there is more pleasure in 
 fodder than in gold to a donkey. 
 
 The pleasures of specifically different beings, then, 
 are specifically different; and we might naturally 
 suppose that there would be no specific difference 
 between the pleasures of beings of the same species. 
 
 9 And yet there is no small difference, in the pleasures 
 of men at least : what pleases this man pains that ; 
 what is grievous and hateful to one is pleasant and 
 lovable to another. This occurs in the case of sweet 
 
 * Sight and touch are classed together on the one hand, and 
 hearing, smell, and taste on the other, because, while the announce- 
 ments of all the senses are, in the first instance, of secondary 
 qualities (colours, sounds, etc.), it is mainly from the announce- 
 ments of sight and touch that we advance to the knowledge of 
 the mathematical properties or primary qualities (number, figure, 
 motion, etc.). 
 
334 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 things, too : a man in a fever has a different notion 
 of what is sweet from a man in health ; and a feeble 
 man's notion of what is hot is different from that of 
 a robust man. And the like occurs in other matters 
 also. 
 
 But in all matters of this kind we hold that 10 
 ings are what they appear to be to the perfect man. 
 
 Now, if this opinion is correct, as we hold it to 
 be if, that is, in every case the test is virtue, or the 
 good man as such then what appears to him to be 
 pleasure will be pleasure, and what he delights in 
 will be pleasant. 
 
 If what is disagreeable to him appears pleasant 
 to another, we need not be astonished ; for there are 
 many ways in which men are corrupted and per- 
 verted: such things, however, are not pleasant, but 
 only pleasant to these men with their disposition. It 11 
 is plain, then, that we must not allow the confessedly 
 base pleasures to be pleasures at all, except to corrupt 
 men. 
 
 But of the pleasures that are considered good, 
 which or what kind are to be called the proper 
 pleasures of man ? We cannot be in doubt if we 
 know what are the proper exercises of his faculties ; 
 for the proper pleasures are their accompaniments. 
 Whether, then, the exercise of faculties proper to the 
 complete and happy man be one or many, the plea- 
 sures that complete that exercise will be called 
 pleasures of man in the full meaning of the words, 
 and the others in a secondary sense and with a 
 fraction of that meaning, just as is the case with the 
 exercises of the faculties. 
 
5, 10-6, 3.] CONCLUSION. 835 
 
 CHAPTEKS 6-9. CONCLUSION. 
 
 6. Now that we have discussed the several kinds 
 
 of virtue and friendship and pleasure, it remains to 
 
 / , . . 
 
 give a summary account of happiness, since we 
 
 assume that it is the end of all that man does. And 
 it will shorten our statement if we first recapitulate 
 what we have said above. 
 
 We said that happiness is not a habit or trained 
 faculty. If it were, it would be within the reach of 
 a man who slept all his days and lived the life of a 
 vegetable, or of a man who met with the greatest 
 misfortunes. As we cannot accept this conclusion, 
 we must place happiness in some exercise of faculty, 
 as we said before. But as the exercises of faculty are 
 sometimes necessary (i.e. desirable for the sake of 
 something else), sometimes desirable in themselves, it 
 is evident that happiness must be placed among those 
 that are desirable in themselves, and not among those 
 that are desirable for the sake of something else : for 
 happiness lacks nothing ; it is sufficient in itself. 
 
 Now, the exercise of faculty is desirable in itself 
 when nothing is expected from it beyond itself. 
 
 Of this nature are held to be (1) the manifesta- 
 tions of excellence ; for to do what is noble and excel- 
 lent must be counted desirable ,for itself: and (2) 
 those amusements which please us ; for they are not 
 chosen for the sake of anything else, indeed, men 
 are more apt to be injured than to be benefited 
 by them, through neglect of their health and fortunes. 
 
 Now, most of those whom men call happy have 
 recourse to pastimes of this sort. And on this account 
 
i 
 
 336 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 those who show a ready wit in such pastimes find 
 favour with tyrants ; for they make themselves plea- 
 sant in that which the tyrant wants, and what he 
 wants is pastime. These amusements, then, are gene- 
 rally thought to be elements of happiness, because 
 princes employ their leisure in them. But such per- 
 sons, we may venture to say, are no criterion. For 
 princely rank does not imply the possession of virtue 
 or of reason, which are the sources of all excellent 
 exercise of faculty. And if these men, never having 
 tasted pure and refined pleasure, have recourse to the 
 pleasures of the body, we should not on that account 
 think these more desirable; for children also fancy 
 that the things which they value are better than 
 anything else. It is only natural, then, that as chil- 
 dren differ from men in their estimate of what is 
 valuable, so bad men should differ from good. 
 
 As we have often said, therefore, that is truly i 
 valuable and pleasant which is so to the perfect man. 
 Now, the exercise of those trained faculties which are 
 proper to him is what each man finds most desirable ; 
 what the perfect man finds most desirable, therefore, 
 is the exercise of virtue. 
 
 Happiness, therefore, does not consist in amuse- 6 
 ment; and indeed it is absurd to suppose that the 
 end is amusement, and that we toil and moil all our 
 life long for the sake of amusing ourselves. We may 
 say that we choose everything for the sake of some- 
 thing else, excepting only happiness ; for it is the end. 
 But to be serious and to labour for the sake of 
 amusement seems silly and utterly childish ; while to 
 amuse ourselves in order that we may be serious, as 
 
6, 4-7, 1.] CONCLUSION. 337 
 
 Anacharsis says, seems to be right,; for amusement 
 is a sort of recreation, and we need recreation because 
 we are unable to work continuously. 
 
 Recreation, then, cannot be the end ; for it is taken 
 as a means to the exercise of our faculties. 
 
 Again, the happy life is thought to be that which 
 exhibits virtue ; and such a life must be serious and 
 cannot consist in amusement. 
 
 Again, it is held that things of serious import- 
 ance * are better than laughable and amusing things, 
 and that the better the organ or the man, the more 
 important is the function ; but we have already said 
 that the function or exercise of that which is better 
 is higher and more conducive to happiness. 
 
 Again, the enjoyment of bodily pleasures is 
 within the reach of anybody, of a slave no less than 
 the best of men; but no one supposes that a slave 
 can participate in happiness, seeing that he cannot 
 even participate in our life. For indeed happiness 
 does not consist in pastimes of this sort, but in the 
 exercise of virtue, as we have already said. 
 
 7. But if happiness be the exercise of virtue, it is of the 
 reasonable to suppose that it will be the exercise o 
 the highest virtue ; and that will be the virtue or M 
 excellence of the best part of us. 
 
 Now, that part or faculty call it reason or what 
 you will which seems naturally to rule and take 
 the lead, and to apprehend things noble and divine 
 
 * T& ffirovticua. It is impossible to convey in a translation the 
 play upon the words ffnovS-fi and ff-irovSdios : ffirovS-f] is earnestness j 
 <T7TouSaTos usually = good : here, however, airovScuos carries both 
 senses, earnest or serious, and good. 
 
 Z 
 
338 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 whether it be itself divine, or only the divinest part 
 of us is the faculty the exercise of which, in its 
 proper excellence, will be perfect happiness. 
 
 That this consists in speculation or contemplation 
 we have already said. 
 
 This conclusion would seem to agree both with : 
 what we have said above, and with known truths. 
 
 This exercise of faculty must be the highest pos- 
 sible; for the reason is the highest of our faculties, 
 and of all knowable things those that reason deals 
 with are the highest. 
 
 Again, it is the most continuous ; for speculation 
 can be carried on more continuously than any kind 
 of action whatsoever. 
 
 We think too that pleasure ought to be one of the 
 ingredients of happiness ; but of all virtuous exercises 
 it is allowed that the pleasantest is the exercise of 
 wisdom.* At least philosophy! is thought to have 
 pleasures that are admirable in purity and stead- 
 fastness; and it is reasonable to suppose that the 
 time passes more pleasantly with those who possess, 
 than with those who are seeking knowledge. 
 
 Again, what is called self-sufficiency will be most 
 of all found in the speculative life. The necessaries 
 of life, indeed, are needed by the wise man as well 
 as by the just man and the rest; but, when these 
 have been provided in due quantity, the just man 
 further needs persons towards whom, and along with 
 whom, he may act justly ; and so does the temperate 
 and the courageous man and the rest; while the 
 
 * j) KOT& T)\V ffotyiav tvepyeia, the contemplation of absolute truth, 
 t The search for this truth. 
 
7. 2-7.] CONCLUSION. 339 
 
 wise man is able to speculate even by himself, and 
 the wiser he is the more is he able to do this. He 
 could speculate better, we may confess, if he had 
 others to help him, but nevertheless he is more self- 
 sufficient than anybody else. 
 
 Again, it would seem that this life alone is desired 
 solely for its own sake ; for it yields no result beyond 
 the contemplation itself, while from all actions we 
 get something more or less besides the action itself. 
 
 Again, happiness is thought to imply leisure ; for 
 we toil in order that we may have leisure, as we 
 make war in order that we may enjoy peace. Now, 
 the practical virtues are exercised either in politics 
 or in war; but these do not seem to be leisurely 
 occupations : 
 
 War, indeed, seems to be quite the reverse of 
 leisurely; for no one chooses to fight for fighting's 
 sake, or arranges a war for that purpose : he would 
 be deemed a bloodthirsty villain who should set 
 friends at enmity in order that battles and slaughter 
 might ensue. 
 
 But the politician's life also is not a leisurely 
 occupation, and, beside the practice of politics itself, 
 it brings power and honours, or at least happiness, to 
 himself and his fellow-citizens, which is something 
 different from politics ; for we [who are asking what 
 happiness is] also ask what politics is, evidently 
 implying that it is something different from happi- 
 ness. 
 
 The life of the statesman and of the soldier, then, 
 though they surpass all other virtuous exercises in 
 nobility and grandeur, are not leisurely occupations, 
 
340 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 and aim at some ulterior end, and are not desired 
 merely for themselves. 
 
 But the exercise of the reason seems to be superior 
 \/ in. seriousness (since it contemplates truth), and to 
 aim at no end beside itself, and to have its proper 
 pleasure (which also helps to increase the exercise) ; 
 and its exercise seems further to be self-sufficient, and 
 leisurely, and inexhaustible (as far as anything human 
 can be), and to have all the other characteristics that 
 are ascribed to happiness. 
 
 This, then, will be the complete happiness of man, 
 i.e. when a complete term of days is added; for 
 v nothing incomplete can be admitted into our idea of 
 happiness. 
 
 But a life which realized this idea would be some- 8 
 thing more than human; for it would not be the 
 expression of man's nature, but of some divine element 
 in that nature the exercise of which is as far supe- 
 rior to the exercise of the other kind of virtue [i.e. 
 practical or moral virtue], as this divine element is 
 superior to our compound human nature.* 
 
 If then reason be divine as compared with man, 
 - the life which consists in the exercise of reason will 
 also be divine in comparison ^4th-human life. Never- 
 theless, instead of listening to those who advise us as 
 men and mortals not to lift our thoughts above what 
 is human and mortal, we ought rather, as far as pos- 
 sible, to put off our mortality and make every effort 
 to live in the exercise of the highest of our faculties ; 
 . for though it be but a small part of us, yet in power 
 and value it far surpasses all the rest. 
 
 * i.e. our nature as moral agents, as compounds of reason and 
 desire. 
 
7, 8-8, 3.] CONCLUSION. 341 
 
 9 And indeed this part would even seem to constitute 
 our true self, since it is the sovereign and the better 
 part. It would be strange, then, if a man were to 
 prefer the life of something else to the life of his true 
 self. 
 
 Again, we may apply here what we said above 
 for every being that is best and pleasantest which 
 is naturally proper to it. Since, then, it is the reason 
 that in the truest sense is the man, the life that 
 consists in_the exercise of the reason is the best and 
 pleasantest for man and therefore the ha^Eiest, 
 
 l 8, The life that consists in the exercise of the 
 
 
 other kind of virtue is happy in a secondary sense ; happiness i 
 for the manifestations of moral virtue are emphati- sense > and 
 
 the relatior 
 
 cally human [not divine]. Justice, I mean, and 
 courage, and the other moral virtues are displayed in 
 our relations towards one another by the observance, 
 in every case, of what is due in contracts and ser- 
 vices, and all sorts of outward acts, as well as in our 
 inward feelings. And all these seem to be emphati- 
 cally human affairs. 
 
 Again, moral virtue seems, in some points, to be 
 actually a result of physical constitution, and in many 
 points to be closely connected with the passions. 
 
 Again, prudence is inseparably joined to moral 
 virtue, and moral virtue to prudence, since the moral 
 virtues determine the principles of prudence,* w,hile 
 prudence determines what is right in morals. 
 
 But the moral virtues, being bound up with the 
 
 * i.e. the principles of morals cannot be proved, but are accepted 
 without proof by the man whose desires are properly trained. Cf. 
 supra, I. 4, 6. 
 
342 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 passions, must belong to our compound nature ; and 
 the virtues of the compound nature are emphatically 
 human. Therefore the life which manifests them, 
 and the happiness which consists in this, must be 
 emphatically human. 
 
 But the happiness which consists in the exercise of 
 the reason is separate from the lower nature. (So 
 much we may be allowed to assert about it : a detailed 
 discussion is beyond our present purpose.) 
 
 Further, this happiness would seem to need but a 4 
 small supply of external goods, certainly less than the 
 moral life needs. Both need the necessaries of life to 
 the same extent, let us say ; for though, in fact, the 
 politician takes more care of his person than the 
 philosopher, yet the difference will be quite incon- 
 siderable. But in what they need for their activities 
 there will be a great difference. Wealth will be 
 needed by the liberal man, that he may act liberally ; 
 by the just man, that he may discharge his obliga- 
 tions (for a mere wish cannot be tested, even 
 unjust people pretend a wish to act justly); the 
 courageous man will need strength if he is to execute 
 any deed of courage ; and the temperate man liberty 
 of indulgence, for how else can he, or the possessor of 
 any other virtue, show what he is ? 
 
 Again, people dispute whether the purpose or the 5 
 action be more essential to virtue, virtue being under- 
 stood to imply both. It is plain, then, that both are 
 necessary to completeness. But many things are 
 needed for action, and the greater and nobler the 
 action, the more is needed. 
 
 On the other hand, he who is engaged in specula- 6 
 
8, 4-7.] CONCLUSION. 343 
 
 tion needs none of these things for his work ; nay, it 
 may even be said that they are a hindrance to 
 speculation: but as a man living with other men, 
 he chooses to act virtuously; and so he will need 
 things of this sort to enable him to behave like a 
 man. 
 
 That perfect happiness is some kind of speculative 
 activity may also be shown in the following way : 
 
 It is always supposed that the gods are, of all 
 beings, the most blessed and happy ; but what kind 
 of actions shall we ascribe to them ? Acts of justice ? 
 Surely it is ridiculous to conceive the gods engaged 
 in trade and restoring deposits, and so on. Or acts 
 of courage ? Can we conceive them enduring fearful 
 things and facing danger because it is noble to do 
 so ? Or acts of liberality ? But to whom are they to 
 give ? and is it not absurd to suppose that they have 
 money or anything of that kind ? And what could 
 acts of temperance mean with them? Surely it 
 would be an insult to praise them for having no evil 
 desires. In short, if we were to go through the 
 whole list, we should find that all action is petty and 
 unworthy of the gods. 
 
 And yet it is universally supposed that they live, 
 and therefore that they exert their powers ; for we 
 cannot suppose that they lie asleep like Endymion. 
 
 Now, if a being lives, and action cannot be 
 ascribed to him, still less production, what remains 
 but contemplation ? It follows, then, that the divine 
 life, which surpasses all others in blessedness, consists 
 in contemplation. 
 
 Of all modes of human activity, therefore, that 
 
314 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [Bs. X. 
 
 which is most akin to this will be capable of the 
 greatest happiness. 
 
 And this is further confirmed by the fact that the 8 
 other animals do not participate in happiness, being 
 quite incapable of this kind of activity. For the life 
 of the gods is entirely blessed, and the life of man is 
 blessed just so far as he attains to some likeness 
 of this kind of activity ; but none of the other animals 
 are happy, since they are quite incapable of con- 
 templation. 
 
 Happiness, then, extends just so far as contempla- 
 tion, and the more contemplation the more happiness 
 is there in a life, not accidentally, but as a necessary 
 accompaniment of the contemplation; for contem- 
 plation is precious in itself. 
 
 Our conclusion, then, is that happiness is a kind of 
 speculation or contemplation. 
 
 ^ But as we are men we shall need external good 9 
 fortune also : for our nature does not itself provide all 
 that is necessary for contemplation ; the body must 
 be in health, and supplied with food, and otherwise 
 cared for. We must not, however, suppose that 
 because it is impossible to be happy without external 
 good things, therefore a man who is to be happy will 
 want many things or much. It is not the super- 
 abundance of good things that makes a man inde- 
 pendent, or enables him to act ; and a man may do 1C 
 noble deeds, though he be not ruler of land and sea. 
 A moderate equipment may give you opportunity for 
 virtuous action. 
 
 It is easy to find illustrations of this. Private 
 persons seem to do what is right not less, but rather 
 
8, 8-13.] CONCLUSION. 345 
 
 more, than princes. And so much as gives this oppor- 
 tunity is enough ; for that man's life will be happy 
 who has virtue and exercises it. 
 
 11 Solon too, I think, gave a good description of the 
 happy man when he said that, in his opinion, he was 
 
 a man who was moderately supplied with the gifts of - 
 fortune, but had done the noblest deeds, and lived 
 temperately; for a man who has but modest means 
 may do his duty. 
 
 Anaxagoras also seems to have held that the 
 happy man was neither a rich man nor a prince ; for 
 he said that he should not be surprised if the happy 
 man were one whom the masses could hardly believe 
 to be so; for they judge by the outside, which is 
 all they can appreciate. 
 
 12 The opinions of the wise, then, seem to agree with 
 our theory. But though these opinions carry some 
 weight, the test of truth in matters of practice is 
 to be found in the facts of life; for it is in them that 
 the supreme authority resides. The theories we have 
 advanced, therefore, should be tested by comparison 
 with the facts of life; and if they agree with the 
 facts, they should be accepted, but if they disagree 
 they should be accounted mere theories. 
 
 13 But, once more, the man who exercises his reason 
 and cultivates 'it, and has it in the best condition, 
 seems also to be the most beloved of heaven. For 
 if the gods take any care for men, as they are thought 
 
 to do, it is reasonable to suppose that they delight) Vj^ 
 in that which is best in man and most akin to them-- 
 selves (i.e. the reason), and that they requite those 
 who show the greatest love and reverence for it, as 
 
346 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 caring for that which is dear to themselves and doing 
 rightly and nobly, But it is plain that all these 
 points are found most of all in the wise man. The 
 wise man, therefore, is the most beloved of heaven ; 
 and therefore, we may conclude, the happiest. 
 
 In this way also, therefore, the wise man will be 
 happier than any one else. 
 
 9. Now that we have treated (sufficiently, though i 
 summarily) of these matters, and of the virtues, and 
 also of friendship and pleasure, are we to suppose that 
 we have attained the end we proposed ? Nay, surely 
 the saying holds good, that in practical matters the 
 end is not a mere speculative knowledge of what is 
 to be done, but rather the doing of it. It is not 2 
 enough to know about virtue, then, but we must 
 endeavour to possess it and to use it, or to take any 
 other steps that may make us good. 
 
 Now, if theories alone were sufficient to make 3 
 people good, they would deservedly receive many 
 and great rewards, to use the words of Theognis ; but, 
 in fact, it seems that though they are potent to guide 
 and to stimulate liberal-minded young men, and 
 though a generous disposition, with a sincere love of 
 what is noble, may by them be opened to the in- 
 fluence of virtue, yet they are powerless to turn the 
 mass of men to goodness. For the generality of men 4 
 are naturally apt to be swayed by fear rather than 
 by reverence, and to refrain from evil rather because 
 of the punishment that it brings than because of its 
 own foulness. For under the guidance of their 
 passions they pursue the pleasures that suit their 
 nature and the means by which those pleasures may 
 
9, 1-8.] CONCLUSION. 347 
 
 be obtained, and avoid the opposite pains, while of 
 that which is noble and truly pleasant they have not 
 even a conception, as they have never tasted it. 
 
 5 What theories or arguments, then, can bring such 
 men as these to order? Surely it is impossible, or 
 at least very difficult, to remove by any argument 
 what has long been ingrained in the character. For 
 my part, I think we must be well content if we can 
 get some modicum of virtue when all the circum- 
 stances are present that seem to make men good. 
 
 6 Now, what makes men good is held by some to 
 be nature, by others habit [or training], by others 
 instruction. 
 
 As for the goodness that comes by nature, it is 
 plain that it is not within our control, but is bestowed 
 by some divine agency on certain people who truly 
 deserve to be called fortunate. 
 
 As for theory or instruction, I fear that it cannot 
 avail in all cases, but that the hearer's soul must be 
 prepared by training it to feel delight and aversion 
 on the right occasions, just as the soil must be pre- 
 
 7 pared if the seed is to thrive. For if he lives under 
 the sway of his passions, he will not listen to the 
 arguments by which you would dissuade him, nor 
 even understand them. And when he is in this state, 
 how can you change his mind by argument ? To 
 put it roundly, passion seems to yield to force only, 
 
 8 and not to reason. The character, then, must be 
 already * formed, so as to be in some way akin to 
 virtue, loving what is noble and hating what is base. 
 
 But to get right guidance from youth up in the 
 
 * Before theory or instruction can be any use. 
 
348 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AKISTOTLE. [BE. X. 
 
 road to virtue is hard, unless we are brought up 
 under suitable laws ; for to live temperately and re- 
 gularly is not pleasant to the generality of men, 
 especially to the young. Our nurture, then, should 
 be prescribed by law, and our whole way of life ; for 
 it will cease to be painful as we get accustomed to it. 
 And I venture to think that it is not enough to get 9 
 proper nurture and training when we are young, but 
 that as we ought to carry on the same way of life 
 after we are grown up, and to confirm these habits, 
 we need the intervention of the law in these matters 
 also, and indeed, to put it roundly, in our whole life. 
 For the generality of men are more readily swayed 
 by compulsion than by reason, and by fear of punish- 
 ment than by desire for what is noble. 
 
 For this reason, some hold that the legislator n 
 should, in the first instance, invite the people and 
 exhort them to be virtuous because of the nobility 
 of virtue, as those who have been well trained 
 will listen to him; but that when they will not 
 listen, or are of less noble nature, he should apply 
 correction and punishment, and banish utterly those 
 who are incorrigible. For the good man, who takes 
 what is noble as his guide, will listen to reason, but 
 he who is not good, whose desires are set on pleasure, 
 must be corrected by pain like a beast of burden. 
 And for this reason, also, they say the pains to be 
 applied must be those that are most contrary to the 
 pleasures which the culprit loves. 
 
 As we have said, then, he who is to be good must 11 
 be well nurtured and trained, and thereafter must 
 continue in a like excellent way of life, and must never, 
 
9, 9-14.] CONCLUSION. 349 
 
 either voluntarily or involuntarily, do anything vile ; 
 and this can only be effected if men live subject to 
 some kind of reason and proper regimen, backed by 
 force. 
 
 12 Now, the paternal rule has not the requisite force 
 or power of compulsion, nor has the rule of any 
 individual, unless he be a king or something like 
 one ; but the law has a compulsory power, and at 
 the same time is a rational ordinance proceeding from 
 a kind of prudence or reason.* And whereas we 
 take offence at individuals who oppose our inclina- 
 tions, even though their opposition is right, we do 
 not feel aggrieved when the law bids us do what is 
 right. 
 
 13 But Sparta is (with a few exceptions) the only 
 state where the legislator seems to have paid atten- 
 tion to the nurture and mode of life of the citizens. 
 In most states these matters are entirely neglected, 
 and each man lives as he likes, ruling wife and 
 children in Cyclopean fashion. f 
 
 14 It would be best, then, that the regulation of 
 these matters should be undertaken and properly 
 carried out by the state, and that individuals should 
 be able to render this service to the community ; but 
 as the state neglects it, it would seem that we should 
 each individually help (or at least, try to help) our 
 own children or friends on the road to virtue. f 
 
 Now, it would seem from what has been said that 
 to enable one to do this the best plan would be to 
 learn how to legislate. For state training is carried 
 on by means of laws, and is good when the laws are 
 
 Cf. VI. 8, 1-3. f Cf. Horn. Od. ix. 114. J Cf. I. 2, 8. 
 
350 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 good; but it would seem to make no difference 
 whether the laws be written or unwritten, nor whether 
 they regulate the education of one person or many, 
 any more than it does in the case of music, or gym- 
 nastics, or any other course of training. For as in 
 the state that prevails which is ordained by law and 
 custom, so in the household that which is ordained 
 by the word of the father of the family and by 
 custom prevails no less, or even more, because of the 
 ties of kinship and of obligation ; for affection and 
 obedience are already implanted by nature in the 
 members of the family. 
 
 Moreover, in spite of what has just been said, l 
 individual treatment is better than treatment by 
 masses, in education no less than in medicine. As a 
 general rule, repose and fasting are good for a fever 
 patient, but in a particular case they may not be 
 good. A teacher of boxing, I suppose, does not re- 
 commend every one to adopt the same style. It 
 would seem, then, that individuals are educated more 
 perfectly under a system of private education; for 
 then each gets more precisely what he needs. 
 
 But you will best be able to treat an individual 
 case (whether you are a doctor, or a trainer, or any- 
 thing else) when you know the general rule, " Such 
 and such a thing is good for all men," or " for all of a 
 certain temperament;" for science is said to deal, 
 and does deal, with that which is common to a 
 number of individuals. 
 
 I do not mean to deny that it may be quite pos- it 
 sible to treat an individual well, even without any 
 scientific knowledge, if you know precisely by ex- 
 
9, 15-18.] CONCLUSION. 351 
 
 perience the effect of particular causes upon him, 
 just as some men seem to be able to treat themselves 
 better than any doctor, though they would be quite 
 unable to prescribe for another person. 
 
 But, nevertheless, I venture to say that if a man 
 wishes to master any art, or to gain a scientific know- 
 ledge of it, he must advance to its general principles, 
 and make himself acquainted with them in the 
 proper method; for, as we have said, it is with 
 universal propositions that the sciences deal. 
 
 And so I think that he who wishes to make men 
 better by training (whether many or few) should 
 try to acquire the art or science of legislation, sup- 
 posing that men may be made good by the agency of 
 law. For fairly to mould the character of any 
 person that may present himself is not a thing that 
 can be done by anybody, but (if at all) only by him 
 who has knowledge, just as is the case in medicine 
 and other professions where careful treatment and 
 prudence are required. 
 
 Our next business, then, I think, is to inquire 
 from whom or by what means we are to learn the 
 science or art of legislation. 
 
 "As we learn the other arts," it will be said, 
 " i.e. from the politicians who practise it : for we found 
 that legislation is a part of politics." 
 
 But I think the case is not quite the same with 
 politics as with the other sciences and arts. For in 
 other cases it is plain that the same people communi- 
 cate the art and practise it, as physicians and painters 
 do. But in the case of politics, while the sophists pro- 
 fess to teach the art, it is never they that practise it, 
 
352 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 but the statesmen. And the statesmen would seem to 
 act by some instinctive faculty, proceeding empirically 
 rather than by reasoning. For it is plain that they 
 never write or speak about these matters (though 
 perhaps that were better than making speeches in the 
 courts or the assembly), and have never communi- 
 cated the art to their sons or to any of their friends, l 
 And yet we might expect that they would have 
 done so if they could ; for they could have left no 
 better legacy to their country, nor have chosen any- 
 thing more precious than this power as a possession 
 for themselves, and, therefore, for those dearest to 
 them. 
 
 Experience, however, seems, we must allow, to be 
 of great service here; for otherwise people would 
 never become statesmen by familiarity with politics. 
 Those who wish for a knowledge of statesmanship, 
 then, seem to need experience [as well as theory]. 
 
 But those sophists who profess to teach states- 2< 
 manship seem to be ludicrously incapable of fulfilling 
 their promises: for, to speak roundly, they do not 
 even know what it is or what it deals with. If they 
 did know, they would not make it identical with 
 rhetoric, or inferior to it, nor would they think it 
 was easy to frame a system of laws when you had 
 made a collection of the most approved of existing 
 laws. " It is but a matter of picking out the best," 
 they say, ignoring the fact that this selection requires 
 understanding, and that to judge correctly is a matter 
 of the greatest difficulty here, as in music. Those 
 who have special experience in any department can 
 pass a correct judgment upon the result, and under- 
 
9, 19-22.] CONCLUSION. 353 
 
 stand how and by what means it is produced, and 
 what combinations are harmonious; but those who 
 have no special experience must be content if they 
 are able to say whether the result is good or bad as, 
 for instance, in the case of painting. Now, laws are 
 the work or result, so to speak, of statesmanship. 
 How then could a collection of laws make a man able 
 to legislate, or to pick out the best of the collection ? 
 21 Even the art of healing, it seems, can not be 
 taught by compendia. And yet the medical com- 
 pendia try to tell you not only the remedies, but how 
 to apply them, and how to treat the several classes of 
 patients, distinguishing them according to their tem- 
 perament. But all this, though it may be serviceable 
 to those who have experience, would seem to be quite 
 useless to those who know nothing of medicine. 
 
 So also, I think we may say, collections of laws 
 and constitutions may be very serviceable to those 
 who are able to examine them with a discriminating 
 eye, and to judge whether an ordinance is good or 
 bad, and what ordinances agree with one another ; 
 but if people who have not the trained faculty go 
 through such compendia, they cannot judge properly 
 (unless indeed a correct judgment comes of itself), 
 though they may perhaps sharpen their intelligence 
 in these matters. 
 
 j Since then our predecessors have left this matter 
 of legislation uninvestigated, it will perhaps be better 
 ourselves to inquire into it, and indeed into the 
 whole question of the management of a state, in order 
 that our philosophy of human life may be completed 
 to the best of our power. 
 
 2 A 
 
354 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS OF AEISTOTLE. [BK. X. 
 
 Let us try, then, first of all, to consider any valu- 23 
 able utterances that our predecessors have made upon 
 this or that branch of the subject; and then, look- 
 ing at our collection of constitutions, let us inquire 
 what things tend to preserve or to destroy states, and 
 what things tend to preserve or destroy the several 
 kinds of constitution, and what are the causes of the 
 good government of some states and the misgovern- 
 ment of others : for when we have got an insight 
 into these matters we shall, I think, be better able to 
 see what is the best kind of constitution, and what is 
 the best arrangement of each of the several kinds; 
 that is to say, what system of laws and customs is 
 best suited to each. 
 
 Let us begin then.* 
 
 * The work to which this conclusion forms a preface is the 
 Politics of Aristotle, still extant, but in an incomplete state. 
 
 
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