BOOK I
1
Every art and every inquiry, and similarly every
action and pursuit, is thought to aim at some good; and for this reason the
good has rightly been declared to be that at which all things aim. But a
certain difference is found among ends; some are activities, others are
products apart from the activities that produce them. Where there are ends
apart from the actions, it is the nature of the products to be better than the
activities. Now, as there are many actions, arts, and sciences, their ends also
are many; the end of the medical art is health, that of shipbuilding a vessel,
that of strategy victory, that of economics wealth. But where such arts fall
under a single capacity- as bridle-making and the other arts concerned with the
equipment of horses fall under the art of riding, and this and every military
action under strategy, in the same way other arts fall under yet others- in all
of these the ends of the master arts are to be preferred to all the subordinate
ends; for it is for the sake of the former that the latter are pursued. It
makes no difference whether the activities themselves are the ends of the
actions, or something else apart from the activities, as in the case of the
sciences just mentioned.
2
If, then, there is some end of the things we do, which
we desire for its own sake (everything else being desired for the sake of
this), and if we do not choose everything for the sake of something else (for
at that rate the process would go on to infinity, so that our desire would be
empty and vain), clearly this must be the good and the chief good. Will not the
knowledge of it, then, have a great influence on life? Shall we not, like
archers who have a mark to aim at, be more likely to hit upon what is right? If
so, we must try, in outline at least, to determine what it is, and of which of
the sciences or capacities it is the object. It would seem to belong to the
most authoritative art and that which is most truly the master art. And politics
appears to be of this nature; for it is this that ordains which of the sciences
should be studied in a state, and which each class of citizens should learn and
up to what point they should learn them; and we see even the most highly
esteemed of capacities to fall under this, e.g. strategy, economics, rhetoric;
now, since politics uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it
legislates as to what we are to do and what we are to abstain from, the end of
this science must include those of the others, so that this end must be the
good for man. For even if the end is the same for a single man and for a state,
that of the state seems at all events something greater and more complete
whether to attain or to preserve; though it is worth while to attain the end
merely for one man, it is finer and more godlike to attain it for a nation or
for city-states. These, then, are the ends at which our inquiry aims, since it
is political science, in one sense of that term.
3
Our discussion will be adequate if it has as much
clearness as the subject-matter admits of, for precision is not to be sought
for alike in all discussions, any more than in all the products of the crafts.
Now fine and just actions, which political science investigates, admit of much
variety and fluctuation of opinion, so that they may be thought to exist only
by convention, and not by nature. And goods also give rise to a similar
fluctuation because they bring harm to many people; for before now men have
been undone by reason of their wealth, and others by reason of their courage.
We must be content, then, in speaking of such subjects and with such premisses
to indicate the truth roughly and in outline, and in speaking about things
which are only for the most part true and with premisses of the same kind to
reach conclusions that are no better. In the same spirit, therefore, should
each type of statement be received; for it is the mark of an educated man to
look for precision in each class of things just so far as the nature of the
subject admits; it is evidently equally foolish to accept probable reasoning
from a mathematician and to demand from a rhetorician scientific proofs.
Now each man judges well the things he knows, and of
these he is a good judge. And so the man who has been educated in a subject is
a good judge of that subject, and the man who has received an all-round
education is a good judge in general. Hence a young man is not a proper hearer
of lectures on political science; for he is inexperienced in the actions that
occur in life, but its discussions start from these and are about these; and,
further, since he tends to follow his passions, his study will be vain and
unprofitable, because the end aimed at is not knowledge but action. And it
makes no difference whether he is young in years or youthful in character; the
defect does not depend on time, but on his living, and pursuing each successive
object, as passion directs. For to such persons, as to the incontinent,
knowledge brings no profit; but to those who desire and act in accordance with
a rational principle knowledge about such matters will be of great benefit.
These remarks about the student, the sort of treatment
to be expected, and the purpose of the inquiry, may be taken as our preface.
4
Let us resume our inquiry and state, in view of the
fact that all knowledge and every pursuit aims at some good, what it is that we
say political science aims at and what is the highest of all goods achievable
by action. Verbally there is very general agreement; for both the general run
of men and people of superior refinement say that it is happiness, and identify
living well and doing well with being happy; but with regard to what happiness
is they differ, and the many do not give the same account as the wise. For the
former think it is some plain and obvious thing, like pleasure, wealth, or
honour; they differ, however, from one another- and often even the same man
identifies it with different things, with health when he is ill, with wealth
when he is poor; but, conscious of their ignorance, they admire those who
proclaim some great ideal that is above their comprehension. Now some thought
that apart from these many goods there is another which is self-subsistent and
causes the goodness of all these as well. To examine all the opinions that have
been held were perhaps somewhat fruitless; enough to examine those that are
most prevalent or that seem to be arguable.
Let us not fail to notice, however, that there is a
difference between arguments from and those to the first principles. For Plato,
too, was right in raising this question and asking, as he used to do, 'are we
on the way from or to the first principles?' There is a difference, as there is
in a race-course between the course from the judges to the turning-point and
the way back. For, while we must begin with what is known, things are objects
of knowledge in two senses- some to us, some without qualification. Presumably,
then, we must begin with things known to us. Hence any one who is to listen
intelligently to lectures about what is noble and just, and generally, about
the subjects of political science must have been brought up in good habits. For
the fact is the starting-point, and if this is sufficiently plain to him, he
will not at the start need the reason as well; and the man who has been well
brought up has or can easily get startingpoints. And as for him who neither has
nor can get them, let him hear the words of Hesiod:
Far best is he who knows all things himself; Good, he that hearkens when men counsel
right; But he who neither knows, nor
lays to heart Another's wisdom, is a
useless wight. 5
Let us, however, resume our discussion from the point
at which we digressed. To judge from the lives that men lead, most men, and men
of the most vulgar type, seem (not without some ground) to identify the good,
or happiness, with pleasure; which is the reason why they love the life of
enjoyment. For there are, we may say, three prominent types of life- that just
mentioned, the political, and thirdly the contemplative life. Now the mass of
mankind are evidently quite slavish in their tastes, preferring a life suitable
to beasts, but they get some ground for their view from the fact that many of
those in high places share the tastes of Sardanapallus. A consideration of the
prominent types of life shows that people of superior refinement and of active
disposition identify happiness with honour; for this is, roughly speaking, the
end of the political life. But it seems too superficial to be what we are
looking for, since it is thought to depend on those who bestow honour rather
than on him who receives it, but the good we divine to be something proper to a
man and not easily taken from him. Further, men seem to pursue honour in order
that they may be assured of their goodness; at least it is by men of practical
wisdom that they seek to be honoured, and among those who know them, and on the
ground of their virtue; clearly, then, according to them, at any rate, virtue
is better. And perhaps one might even suppose this to be, rather than honour,
the end of the political life. But even this appears somewhat incomplete; for
possession of virtue seems actually compatible with being asleep, or with
lifelong inactivity, and, further, with the greatest sufferings and
misfortunes; but a man who was living so no one would call happy, unless he
were maintaining a thesis at all costs. But enough of this; for the subject has
been sufficiently treated even in the current discussions. Third comes the
contemplative life, which we shall consider later.
The life of money-making is one undertaken under
compulsion, and wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking; for it is
merely useful and for the sake of something else. And so one might rather take
the aforenamed objects to be ends; for they are loved for themselves. But it is
evident that not even these are ends; yet many arguments have been thrown away
in support of them. Let us leave this subject, then.
6
We had perhaps better consider the universal good and
discuss thoroughly what is meant by it, although such an inquiry is made an
uphill one by the fact that the Forms have been introduced by friends of our
own. Yet it would perhaps be thought to be better, indeed to be our duty, for
the sake of maintaining the truth even to destroy what touches us closely,
especially as we are philosophers or lovers of wisdom; for, while both are
dear, piety requires us to honour truth above our friends.
The men who introduced this doctrine did not posit
Ideas of classes within which they recognized priority and posteriority (which
is the reason why they did not maintain the existence of an Idea embracing all
numbers); but the term 'good' is used both in the category of substance and in
that of quality and in that of relation, and that which is per se, i.e. substance,
is prior in nature to the relative (for the latter is like an off shoot and
accident of being); so that there could not be a common Idea set over all these
goods. Further, since 'good' has as many senses as 'being' (for it is
predicated both in the category of substance, as of God and of reason, and in
quality, i.e. of the virtues, and in quantity, i.e. of that which is moderate,
and in relation, i.e. of the useful, and in time, i.e. of the right
opportunity, and in place, i.e. of the right locality and the like), clearly it
cannot be something universally present in all cases and single; for then it
could not have been predicated in all the categories but in one only. Further,
since of the things answering to one Idea there is one science, there would have
been one science of all the goods; but as it is there are many sciences even of
the things that fall under one category, e.g. of opportunity, for opportunity
in war is studied by strategics and in disease by medicine, and the moderate in
food is studied by medicine and in exercise by the science of gymnastics.
And one might
ask the question, what in the world they mean by 'a thing itself', is (as is
the case) in 'man himself' and in a particular man the account of man is one
and the same. For in so far as they are man, they will in no respect differ;
and if this is so, neither will 'good itself' and particular goods, in so far
as they are good. But again it will not be good any the more for being eternal,
since that which lasts long is no whiter than that which perishes in a day. The
Pythagoreans seem to give a more plausible account of the good, when they place
the one in the column of goods; and it is they that Speusippus seems to have
followed.
But let us discuss these matters elsewhere; an
objection to what we have said, however, may be discerned in the fact that the
Platonists have not been speaking about all goods, and that the goods that are
pursued and loved for themselves are called good by reference to a single Form,
while those which tend to produce or to preserve these somehow or to prevent
their contraries are called so by reference to these, and in a secondary sense.
Clearly, then, goods must be spoken of in two ways, and some must be good in
themselves, the others by reason of these. Let us separate, then, things good
in themselves from things useful, and consider whether the former are called
good by reference to a single Idea. What sort of goods would one call good in
themselves? Is it those that are pursued even when isolated from others, such
as intelligence, sight, and certain pleasures and honours? Certainly, if we
pursue these also for the sake of something else, yet one would place them
among things good in themselves. Or is nothing other than the Idea of good good
in itself? In that case the Form will be empty. But if the things we have named
are also things good in themselves, the account of the good will have to appear
as something identical in them all, as that of whiteness is identical in snow
and in white lead. But of honour, wisdom, and pleasure, just in respect of
their goodness, the accounts are distinct and diverse. The good, therefore, is
not some common element answering to one Idea.
But what then do we mean by the good? It is surely not
like the things that only chance to have the same name. Are goods one, then, by
being derived from one good or by all contributing to one good, or are they
rather one by analogy? Certainly as sight is in the body, so is reason in the
soul, and so on in other cases. But perhaps these subjects had better be
dismissed for the present; for perfect precision about them would be more
appropriate to another branch of philosophy. And similarly with regard to the
Idea; even if there is some one good which is universally predicable of goods
or is capable of separate and independent existence, clearly it could not be
achieved or attained by man; but we are now seeking something attainable.
Perhaps, however, some one might think it worth while to recognize this with a
view to the goods that are attainable and achievable; for having this as a sort
of pattern we shall know better the goods that are good for us, and if we know
them shall attain them. This argument has some plausibility, but seems to clash
with the procedure of the sciences; for all of these, though they aim at some
good and seek to supply the deficiency of it, leave on one side the knowledge
of the good. Yet that all the exponents of the arts should be ignorant of, and
should not even seek, so great an aid is not probable. It is hard, too, to see
how a weaver or a carpenter will be benefited in regard to his own craft by
knowing this 'good itself', or how the man who has viewed the Idea itself will
be a better doctor or general thereby. For a doctor seems not even to study
health in this way, but the health of man, or perhaps rather the health of a
particular man; it is individuals that he is healing. But enough of these
topics.
7
Let us again return to the good we are seeking, and
ask what it can be. It seems different in different actions and arts; it is
different in medicine, in strategy, and in the other arts likewise. What then
is the good of each? Surely that for whose sake everything else is done. In
medicine this is health, in strategy victory, in architecture a house, in any
other sphere something else, and in every action and pursuit the end; for it is
for the sake of this that all men do whatever else they do. Therefore, if there
is an end for all that we do, this will be the good achievable by action, and
if there are more than one, these will be the goods achievable by action.
So the argument has by a different course reached the
same point; but we must try to state this even more clearly. Since there are
evidently more than one end, and we choose some of these (e.g. wealth, flutes,
and in general instruments) for the sake of something else, clearly not all
ends are final ends; but the chief good is evidently something final.
Therefore, if there is only one final end, this will be what we are seeking,
and if there are more than one, the most final of these will be what we are
seeking. Now we call that which is in itself worthy of pursuit more final than
that which is worthy of pursuit for the sake of something else, and that which
is never desirable for the sake of something else more final than the things
that are desirable both in themselves and for the sake of that other thing, and
therefore we call final without qualification that which is always desirable in
itself and never for the sake of something else.
Now such a thing happiness, above all else, is held to
be; for this we choose always for self and never for the sake of something
else, but honour, pleasure, reason, and every virtue we choose indeed for
themselves (for if nothing resulted from them we should still choose each of them),
but we choose them also for the sake of happiness, judging that by means of
them we shall be happy. Happiness, on the other hand, no one chooses for the
sake of these, nor, in general, for anything other than itself.
From the point of view of self-sufficiency the same
result seems to follow; for the final good is thought to be self-sufficient.
Now by self-sufficient we do not mean that which is sufficient for a man by
himself, for one who lives a solitary life, but also for parents, children,
wife, and in general for his friends and fellow citizens, since man is born for
citizenship. But some limit must be set to this; for if we extend our
requirement to ancestors and descendants and friends' friends we are in for an
infinite series. Let us examine this question, however, on another occasion;
the self-sufficient we now define as that which when isolated makes life
desirable and lacking in nothing; and such we think happiness to be; and
further we think it most desirable of all things, without being counted as one
good thing among others- if it were so counted it would clearly be made more
desirable by the addition of even the least of goods; for that which is added
becomes an excess of goods, and of goods the greater is always more desirable.
Happiness, then, is something final and self-sufficient, and is the end of
action.
Presumably, however, to say that happiness is the
chief good seems a platitude, and a clearer account of what it is still
desired. This might perhaps be given, if we could first ascertain the function
of man. For just as for a flute-player, a sculptor, or an artist, and, in
general, for all things that have a function or activity, the good and the
'well' is thought to reside in the function, so would it seem to be for man, if
he has a function. Have the carpenter, then, and the tanner certain functions
or activities, and has man none? Is he born without a function? Or as eye,
hand, foot, and in general each of the parts evidently has a function, may one
lay it down that man similarly has a function apart from all these? What then
can this be? Life seems to be common even to plants, but we are seeking what is
peculiar to man. Let us exclude, therefore, the life of nutrition and growth.
Next there would be a life of perception, but it also seems to be common even
to the horse, the ox, and every animal. There remains, then, an active life of
the element that has a rational principle; of this, one part has such a
principle in the sense of being obedient to one, the other in the sense of possessing
one and exercising thought. And, as 'life of the rational element' also has two
meanings, we must state that life in the sense of activity is what we mean; for
this
seems to be
the more proper sense of the term. Now if the function of man is an activity of
soul which follows or implies a rational principle, and if we say
'so-and-so-and 'a good so-and-so' have a function which is the same in kind,
e.g. a lyre, and a good lyre-player, and so without qualification in all cases,
eminence in respect of goodness being idded to the name of the function (for
the function of a lyre-player is to play the lyre, and that of a good
lyre-player is to do so well): if this is the case, and we state the function
of man to be a certain kind of life, and this to be an activity or actions of
the soul implying a rational principle, and the function of a good man to be
the good and noble performance of these, and if any action is well performed
when it is performed in accordance with the appropriate excellence: if this is the
case, human good turns out to be activity of soul in accordance with virtue,
and if there are more than one virtue, in accordance with the best and most
complete.
But we must add 'in a complete life.' For one swallow
does not make a summer, nor does one day; and so too one day, or a short time,
does not make a man blessed and happy.
Let this serve as an outline of the good; for we must
presumably first sketch it roughly, and then later fill in the details. But it
would seem that any one is capable of carrying on and articulating what has
once been well outlined, and that time is a good discoverer or partner in such
a work; to which facts the advances of the arts are due; for any one can add
what is lacking. And we must also remember what has been said before, and not
look for precision in all things alike, but in each class of things such
precision as accords with the subject-matter, and so much as is appropriate to
the inquiry. For a carpenter and a geometer investigate the right angle in
different ways; the former does so in so far as the right angle is useful for
his work, while the latter inquires what it is or what sort of thing it is; for
he is a spectator of the truth. We must act in the same way, then, in all other
matters as well, that our main task may not be subordinated to minor questions.
Nor must we demand the cause in all matters alike; it is enough in some cases
that the fact be well established, as in the case of the first principles; the
fact is the primary thing or first principle. Now of first principles we see
some by induction, some by perception, some by a certain habituation, and
others too in other ways. But each set of principles we must try to investigate
in the natural way, and we must take pains to state them definitely, since they
have a great influence on what follows. For the beginning is thought to be more
than half of the whole, and many of the questions we ask are cleared up by it.
8
We must consider it, however, in the light not only of
our conclusion and our premisses, but also of what is commonly said about it;
for with a true view all the data harmonize, but with a false one the facts
soon clash. Now goods have been divided into three classes, and some are
described as external, others as relating to soul or to body; we call those
that relate to soul most properly and truly goods, and psychical actions and
activities we class as relating to soul. Therefore our account must be sound,
at least according to this view, which is an old one and agreed on by
philosophers. It is correct also in that we identify the end with certain
actions and activities; for thus it falls among goods of the soul and not among
external goods. Another belief which harmonizes with our account is that the
happy man lives well and does well; for we have practically defined happiness
as a sort of good life and good action. The characteristics that are looked for
in happiness seem also, all of them, to belong to what we have defined
happiness as being. For some identify happiness with virtue, some with
practical wisdom, others with a kind of philosophic wisdom, others with these,
or one of these, accompanied by pleasure or not without pleasure; while others
include also external prosperity. Now some of these views have been held by
many men and men of old, others by a few eminent persons; and it is not
probable that either of these should be entirely mistaken, but rather that they
should be right in at least some one respect or even in most respects.
With those who identify happiness with virtue or some one
virtue our account is in harmony; for to virtue belongs virtuous activity. But
it makes, perhaps, no small difference whether we place the chief good in
possession or in use, in state of mind or in activity. For the state of mind
may exist without producing any good result, as in a man who is asleep or in
some other way quite inactive, but the activity cannot; for one who has the
activity will of necessity be acting, and acting well. And as in the Olympic
Games it is not the most beautiful and the strongest that are crowned but those
who compete (for it is some of these that are victorious), so those who act
win, and rightly win, the noble and good things in life.
Their life is also in itself pleasant. For pleasure is
a state of soul, and to each man that which he is said to be a lover of is
pleasant; e.g. not only is a horse pleasant to the lover of horses, and a
spectacle to the lover of sights, but also in the same way just acts are
pleasant to the lover of justice and in general virtuous acts to the lover of
virtue. Now for most men their pleasures are in conflict with one another
because these are not by nature pleasant, but the lovers of what is noble find
pleasant the things that are by nature pleasant; and virtuous actions are such,
so that these are pleasant for such men as well as in their own nature. Their
life, therefore, has no further need of pleasure as a sort of adventitious
charm, but has its pleasure in itself. For, besides what we have said, the man
who does not rejoice in noble actions is not even good; since no one would call
a man just who did not enjoy acting justly, nor any man liberal who did not
enjoy liberal actions; and similarly in all other cases. If this is so,
virtuous actions must be in themselves pleasant. But they are also good and
noble, and have each of these attributes in the highest degree, since the good
man judges well about these attributes; his judgement is such as we have
described. Happiness then is the best, noblest, and most pleasant thing in the
world, and these attributes are not severed as in the inscription at Delos-
Most noble is that which is justest, and best is
health;
But pleasantest is it to win what we love.
For all these properties belong to the best
activities; and these, or one- the best- of these, we identify with happiness.
Yet evidently, as we said, it needs the external goods
as well; for it is impossible, or not easy, to do noble acts without the proper
equipment. In many actions we use friends and riches and political power as
instruments; and there are some things the lack of which takes the lustre from
happiness, as good birth, goodly children, beauty; for the man who is very ugly
in appearance or ill-born or solitary and childless is not very likely to be
happy, and perhaps a man would be still less likely if he had thoroughly bad
children or friends or had lost good children or friends by death. As we said,
then, happiness seems to need this sort of prosperity in addition; for which
reason some identify happiness with good fortune, though others identify it
with virtue.
9
For this reason also the question is asked, whether
happiness is to be acquired by learning or by habituation or some other sort of
training, or comes in virtue of some divine providence or again by chance. Now
if there is any gift of the gods to men, it is reasonable that happiness should
be god-given, and most surely god-given of all human things inasmuch as it is
the best. But this question would perhaps be more appropriate to another
inquiry; happiness seems, however, even if it is not god-sent but comes as a
result of virtue and some process of learning or training, to be among the most
godlike things; for that which is the prize and end of virtue seems to be the
best thing in the world, and something godlike and blessed.
It will also on this view be very generally shared;
for all who are not maimed as regards their potentiality for virtue may win it
by a certain kind of study and care. But if it is better to be happy thus than
by chance, it is reasonable that the facts should be so,
since
everything that depends on the action of nature is by nature as good as it can
be, and similarly everything that depends on art or any rational cause, and
especially if it depends on the best of all causes. To entrust to chance what
is greatest and most noble would be a very defective arrangement.
The answer to the question we are asking is plain also
from the definition of happiness; for it has been said to be a virtuous
activity of soul, of a certain kind. Of the remaining goods, some must
necessarily pre-exist as conditions of happiness, and others are naturally
co-operative and useful as instruments. And this will be found to agree with
what we said at the outset; for we stated the end of political science to be
the best end, and political science spends most of its pains on making the
citizens to be of a certain character, viz. good and capable of noble acts.
It is natural, then, that we call neither ox nor horse
nor any other of the animals happy; for none of them is capable of sharing in
such activity. For this reason also a boy is not happy; for he is not yet
capable of such acts, owing to his age; and boys who are called happy are being
congratulated by reason of the hopes we have for them. For there is required,
as we said, not only complete virtue but also a complete life, since many
changes occur in life, and all manner of chances, and the most prosperous may
fall into great misfortunes in old age, as is told of Priam in the Trojan
Cycle; and one who has experienced such chances and has ended wretchedly no one
calls happy.
10
Must no one at all, then, be called happy while he
lives; must we, as Solon says, see the end? Even if we are to lay down this
doctrine, is it also the case that a man is happy when he is dead? Or is not
this quite absurd, especially for us who say that happiness is an activity? But
if we do not call the dead man happy, and if Solon does not mean this, but that
one can then safely call a man blessed as being at last beyond evils and
misfortunes, this also affords matter for discussion; for both evil and good
are thought to exist for a dead man, as much as for one who is alive but not
aware of them; e.g. honours and dishonours and the good or bad fortunes of
children and in general of descendants. And this also presents a problem; for
though a man has lived happily up to old age and has had a death worthy of his
life, many reverses may befall his descendants- some of them may be good and
attain the life they deserve, while with others the opposite may be the case;
and clearly too the degrees of relationship between them and their ancestors
may vary indefinitely. It would be odd, then, if the dead man were to share in
these changes and become at one time happy, at another wretched; while it would
also be odd if the fortunes of the descendants did not for some time have some
effect on the happiness of their ancestors.
But we must return to our first difficulty; for
perhaps by a consideration of it our present problem might be solved. Now if we
must see the end and only then call a man happy, not as being happy but as
having been so before, surely this is a paradox, that when he is happy the
attribute that belongs to him is not to be truly predicated of him because we
do not wish to call living men happy, on account of the changes that may befall
them, and because we have assumed happiness to be something permanent and by no
means easily changed, while a single man may suffer many turns of fortune's
wheel. For clearly if we were to keep pace with his fortunes, we should often
call the same man happy and again wretched, making the happy man out to be
chameleon and insecurely based. Or is this keeping pace with his fortunes quite
wrong? Success or failure in life does not depend on these, but human life, as
we said, needs these as mere additions, while virtuous activities or their
opposites are what constitute happiness or the reverse.
The question we have now discussed confirms our
definition. For no function of man has so much permanence as virtuous
activities (these are thought to be more durable even than knowledge of the
sciences), and of these themselves the most valuable are more durable because
those who are happy spend their life most readily and most continuously in
these; for this seems to be the reason why we do not forget them. The attribute
in question, then, will belong to the happy man, and he will be happy
throughout his life; for always, or by preference to everything else, he will
be engaged in virtuous action and contemplation, and he will bear the chances
of life most nobly and altogether decorously, if he is 'truly good' and
'foursquare beyond reproach'.
Now many events happen by chance, and events differing
in importance; small pieces of good fortune or of its opposite clearly do not
weigh down the scales of life one way or the other, but a multitude of great
events if they turn out well will make life happier (for not only are they
themselves such as to add beauty to life, but the way a man deals with them may
be noble and good), while if they turn out ill they crush and maim happiness;
for they both bring pain with them and hinder many activities. Yet even in
these nobility shines through, when a man bears with resignation many great
misfortunes, not through insensibility to pain but through nobility and
greatness of soul.
If activities are, as we said, what gives life its
character, no happy man can become miserable; for he will never do the acts
that are hateful and mean. For the man who is truly good and wise, we think,
bears all the chances life becomingly and always makes the best of
circumstances, as a good general makes the best military use of the army at his
command and a good shoemaker makes the best shoes out of the hides that are
given him; and so with all other craftsmen. And if this is the case, the happy
man can never become miserable; though he will not reach blessedness, if he
meet with fortunes like those of Priam.
Nor, again, is he many-coloured and changeable; for
neither will he be moved from his happy state easily or by any ordinary
misadventures, but only by many great ones, nor, if he has had many great
misadventures, will he recover his happiness in a short time, but if at all,
only in a long and complete one in which he has attained many splendid
successes.
When then should we not say that he is happy who is
active in accordance with complete virtue and is sufficiently equipped with
external goods, not for some chance period but throughout a complete life? Or
must we add 'and who is destined to live thus and die as befits his life'?
Certainly the future is obscure to us, while happiness, we claim, is an end and
something in every way final. If so, we shall call happy those among living men
in whom these conditions are, and are to be, fulfilled- but happy men. So much
for these questions.
11
That the fortunes of descendants and of all a man's
friends should not affect his happiness at all seems a very unfriendly
doctrine, and one opposed to the opinions men hold; but since the events that
happen are numerous and admit of all sorts of difference, and some come more
near to us and others less so, it seems a long- nay, an infinite- task to
discuss each in detail; a general outline will perhaps suffice. If, then, as
some of a man's own misadventures have a certain weight and influence on life
while others are, as it were, lighter, so too there are differences among the
misadventures of our friends taken as a whole, and it makes a difference
whether the various suffering befall the living or the dead (much more even
than whether lawless and terrible deeds are presupposed in a tragedy or done on
the stage), this difference also must be taken into account; or rather,
perhaps, the fact that doubt is felt whether the dead share in any good or
evil. For it seems, from these considerations, that even if anything whether
good or evil penetrates to them, it must be something weak and negligible,
either in itself or for them, or if not, at least it must be such in degree and
kind as not to make happy those who are not happy nor to take away their
blessedness from those who are. The good or bad fortunes of friends, then, seem
to have some effects on the dead, but effects of such a kind and degree as
neither to make the happy unhappy nor to produce any other change of the kind.
12
These questions having been definitely answered, let
us consider whether happiness is among the things that are praised or rather
among the things that are prized; for clearly it is not to be placed among
potentialities. Everything that is praised seems to be praised because it is of
a certain kind and is related somehow to something else; for we praise the just
or brave man and in general both the good man and virtue itself because of the
actions and functions involved, and we praise the strong man, the good runner, and
so on, because he is of a certain kind and is related in a certain way to
something good and important. This is clear also from the praises of the gods;
for it seems absurd that the gods should be referred to our standard, but this
is done because praise involves a reference, to something else. But if if
praise is for things such as we have described, clearly what applies to the
best things is not praise, but something greater and better, as is indeed
obvious; for what we do to the gods and the most godlike of men is to call them
blessed and happy. And so too with good things; no one praises happiness as he
does justice, but rather calls it blessed, as being something more divine and
better.
Eudoxus also seems to have been right in his method of
advocating the supremacy of pleasure; he thought that the fact that, though a
good, it is not praised indicated it to be better than the things that are
praised, and that this is what God and the good are; for by reference to these
all other things are judged. Praise is appropriate to virtue, for as a result
of virtue men tend to do noble deeds, but encomia are bestowed on acts, whether
of the body or of the soul. But perhaps nicety in these matters is more proper
to those who have made a study of encomia; to us it is clear from what has been
said that happiness is among the things that are prized and perfect. It seems
to be so also from the fact that it is a first principle; for it is for the
sake of this that we all do all that we do, and the first principle and cause
of goods is, we claim, something prized and divine.
13
Since happiness is an activity of soul in accordance
with perfect virtue, we must consider the nature of virtue; for perhaps we
shall thus see better the nature of happiness. The true student of politics,
too, is thought to have studied virtue above all things; for he wishes to make
his fellow citizens good and obedient to the laws. As an example of this we
have the lawgivers of the Cretans and the Spartans, and any others of the kind
that there may have been. And if this inquiry belongs to political science,
clearly the pursuit of it will be in accordance with our original plan. But
clearly the virtue we must study is human virtue; for the good we were seeking
was human good and the happiness human happiness. By human virtue we mean not
that of the body but that of the soul; and happiness also we call an activity
of soul. But if this is so, clearly the student of politics must know somehow
the facts about soul, as the man who is to heal the eyes or the body as a whole
must know about the eyes or the body; and all the more since politics is more
prized and better than medicine; but even among doctors the best educated spend
much labour on acquiring knowledge of the body. The student of politics, then,
must study the soul, and must study it with these objects in view, and do so
just to the extent which is sufficient for the questions we are discussing; for
further precision is perhaps something more laborious than our purposes
require.
Some things are said about it, adequately enough, even
in the discussions outside our school, and we must use these; e.g. that one
element in the soul is irrational and one has a rational principle. Whether
these are separated as the parts of the body or of anything divisible are, or
are distinct by definition but by nature inseparable, like convex and concave
in the circumference of a circle, does not affect the present question.
Of the irrational element one division seems to be
widely distributed, and vegetative in its nature, I mean that which causes
nutrition and growth; for it is this kind of power of the soul that one must
assign to all nurslings and to embryos, and this same power to fullgrown
creatures; this is more reasonable than to assign some different power to them.
Now the excellence of this seems to be common to all species and not
specifically human; for this part or faculty seems to function most in sleep,
while goodness and badness are least manifest in sleep (whence comes the saying
that the happy are not better off than the wretched for half their lives; and
this happens naturally enough, since sleep is an inactivity of the soul in that
respect in which it is called good or bad), unless perhaps to a small extent
some of the movements actually penetrate to the soul, and in this respect
the dreams of
good men are better than those of ordinary people. Enough of this subject,
however; let us leave the nutritive faculty alone, since it has by its nature
no share in human excellence.
There seems to be also another irrational element in
the soul-one which in a sense, however, shares in a rational principle. For we
praise the rational principle of the continent man and of the incontinent, and
the part of their soul that has such a principle, since it urges them aright
and towards the best objects; but there is found in them also another element
naturally opposed to the rational principle, which fights against and resists
that principle. For exactly as paralysed limbs when we intend to move them to
the right turn on the contrary to the left, so is it with the soul; the
impulses of incontinent people move in contrary directions. But while in the
body we see that which moves astray, in the soul we do not. No doubt, however,
we must none the less suppose that in the soul too there is something contrary
to the rational principle, resisting and opposing it. In what sense it is
distinct from the other elements does not concern us. Now even this seems to
have a share in a rational principle, as we said; at any rate in the continent
man it obeys the rational principle and presumably in the temperate and brave
man it is still more obedient; for in him it speaks, on all matters, with the
same voice as the rational principle.
Therefore the irrational element also appears to be
two-fold. For the vegetative element in no way shares in a rational principle,
but the appetitive and in general the desiring element in a sense shares in it,
in so far as it listens to and obeys it; this is the sense in which we speak of
'taking account' of one's father or one's friends, not that in which we speak
of 'accounting for a mathematical property. That the irrational element is in
some sense persuaded by a rational principle is indicated also by the giving of
advice and by all reproof and exhortation. And if this element also must be
said to have a rational principle, that which has a rational principle (as well
as that which has not) will be twofold, one subdivision having it in the strict
sense and in itself, and the other having a tendency to obey as one does one's
father.
Virtue too is distinguished into kinds in accordance
with this difference; for we say that some of the virtues are intellectual and
others moral, philosophic wisdom and understanding and practical wisdom being
intellectual, liberality and temperance moral. For in speaking about a man's
character we do not say that he is wise or has understanding but that he is
good-tempered or temperate; yet we praise the wise man also with respect to his
state of mind; and of states of mind we call those which merit praise virtues.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK II
1
Virtue, then, being of two kinds, intellectual and
moral, intellectual virtue in the main owes both its birth and its growth to
teaching (for which reason it requires experience and time), while moral virtue
comes about as a result of habit, whence also its name (ethike) is one that is
formed by a slight variation from the word ethos (habit). From this it is also
plain that none of the moral virtues arises in us by nature; for nothing that
exists by nature can form a habit contrary to its nature. For instance the
stone which by nature moves downwards cannot be habituated to move upwards, not
even if one tries to train it by throwing it up ten thousand times; nor can
fire be habituated to move downwards, nor can anything else that by nature
behaves in one way be trained to behave in another. Neither by nature, then,
nor contrary to nature do the virtues arise in us; rather we are adapted by
nature to receive them, and are made perfect by habit.
Again, of all the things that come to us by nature we
first acquire the potentiality and later exhibit the activity (this is plain in
the case of the senses; for it was not by often seeing or often hearing that we
got these senses, but on the contrary we had them before we used them, and did
not come to have them by using them); but the virtues we get by first
exercising them, as also happens in the case of the arts as well. For the
things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing them, e.g. men
become builders by building and lyreplayers by playing the lyre; so too we
become just by doing just acts, temperate by doing temperate acts, brave by
doing brave acts.
This is confirmed by what happens in states; for
legislators make the citizens good by forming habits in them, and this is the
wish of every legislator, and those who do not effect it miss their mark, and
it is in this that a good constitution differs from a bad one.
Again, it is from the same causes and by the same
means that every virtue is both produced and destroyed, and similarly every
art; for it is from playing the lyre that both good and bad lyre-players are
produced. And
the corresponding statement is true of builders and of all the rest; men will
be good or bad builders as a result of building well or badly. For if this were
not so, there would have been no need of a teacher, but all men would have been
born good or bad at their craft. This, then, is the case with the virtues also;
by doing the acts that we do in our transactions with other men we become just
or unjust, and by doing the acts that we do in the presence of danger, and
being habituated to feel fear or confidence, we become brave or cowardly. The
same is true of appetites and feelings of anger; some men become temperate and
good-tempered, others self-indulgent and irascible, by behaving in one way or
the other in the appropriate circumstances. Thus, in one word, states of
character arise out of like activities. This is why the activities we exhibit
must be of a certain kind; it is because the states of character correspond to
the differences between these. It makes no small difference, then, whether we
form habits of one kind or of another from our very youth; it makes a very
great difference, or rather all the difference.
2
Since, then, the present inquiry does not aim at
theoretical knowledge like the others (for we are inquiring not in order to
know what virtue is, but in order to become good, since otherwise our inquiry
would have been of no use), we must examine the nature of actions, namely how
we ought to do them; for these determine also the nature of the states of
character that are produced, as we have said. Now, that we must act according
to the right rule is a common principle and must be assumed-it will be
discussed later, i.e. both what the right rule is, and how it is related to the
other virtues. But this must be agreed upon beforehand, that the whole account
of matters of conduct must be given in outline and not precisely, as we said at
the very beginning that the accounts we demand must be in accordance with the
subject-matter; matters concerned with conduct and questions of what is good
for us have no fixity, any more than matters of health. The general account
being of this nature, the account of particular cases is yet more lacking in
exactness; for they do not fall under any art or precept but the agents
themselves must in each case consider what is appropriate to the occasion, as
happens also in the art of medicine or of navigation.
But though our present account is of this nature we
must give what help we can. First, then, let us consider this, that it is the
nature of such things to be destroyed by defect and excess, as we see in the
case of strength and of health (for to gain light on things imperceptible we
must use the evidence of sensible things); both excessive and defective
exercise destroys the strength, and similarly drink or food which is above or
below a certain amount destroys the health, while that which is proportionate
both produces and increases and preserves it. So too is it, then, in the case
of temperance and courage and the other virtues. For the man who flies from and
fears everything and does not stand his ground against anything becomes a
coward, and the man who fears nothing at all but goes to meet every danger
becomes rash; and similarly the man who indulges in every pleasure and abstains
from none becomes self-indulgent, while the man who shuns every pleasure, as boors
do, becomes in a way insensible; temperance and courage, then, are destroyed by
excess and defect, and preserved by the mean.
But not only are the sources and causes of their
origination and growth the same as those of their destruction, but also the sphere
of their actualization will be the same; for this is also true of the things
which are more evident to sense, e.g. of strength; it is produced by taking
much food and undergoing much exertion, and it is the strong man that will be
most able to do these things. So too is it with the virtues; by abstaining from
pleasures we become temperate, and it is when we have become so that we are
most able to abstain from them; and similarly too in the case of courage; for
by being habituated to despise things that are terrible and to stand our ground
against them we become brave, and it is when we have become so that we shall be
most able to stand our ground against them.
3
We must take as a sign of states of character the
pleasure or pain that ensues on acts; for the man who abstains from bodily
pleasures and delights in this very fact is temperate, while the man who is
annoyed at it is self-indulgent, and he who stands his ground against things
that are terrible and delights in this or at least is not pained is brave,
while the man who is pained is a coward. For moral excellence is concerned with
pleasures and pains; it is on account of the pleasure that we do bad things,
and on account of the pain that we abstain from noble ones. Hence we ought to
have been brought up in a particular way from our very youth, as Plato says, so
as both to delight in and to be pained by the things that we ought; for this is
the right education.
Again, if the virtues are concerned with actions and
passions, and every passion and every action is accompanied by pleasure and
pain, for this reason also virtue will be concerned with pleasures and pains. This
is indicated also by the fact that punishment is inflicted by these means; for
it is a kind of cure, and it is the nature of cures to be effected by
contraries.
Again, as we said but lately, every state of soul has
a nature relative to and concerned with the kind of things by which it tends to
be made worse or better; but it is by reason of pleasures and pains that men
become bad, by pursuing and avoiding these- either the pleasures and pains they
ought not or when they ought not or as they ought not, or by going wrong in one
of the other similar ways that may be distinguished. Hence men even define the
virtues as certain states of impassivity and rest; not well, however, because
they speak absolutely, and do not say 'as one ought' and 'as one ought not' and
'when one ought or ought not', and the other things that may be added. We
assume, then, that this kind of excellence tends to do what is best with regard
to pleasures and pains, and vice does the contrary.
The following facts also may show us that virtue and
vice are concerned with these same things. There being three objects of choice
and three of avoidance, the noble, the advantageous, the pleasant, and their
contraries, the base, the injurious, the painful, about all of these the good
man tends to go right and the bad man to go wrong, and especially about
pleasure; for this is common to the animals, and also it accompanies all objects
of choice; for even the noble and the advantageous appear pleasant.
Again, it has grown up with us all from our infancy;
this is why it is difficult to rub off this passion, engrained as it is in our
life. And we measure even our actions, some of us more and others less, by the
rule of pleasure and pain. For this reason, then, our whole inquiry must be
about these; for to feel delight and pain rightly or wrongly has no small
effect on our actions.
Again, it is harder to fight with pleasure than with anger,
to use Heraclitus' phrase', but both art and virtue are always concerned with
what is harder; for even the good is better when it is harder. Therefore for
this reason also the whole concern both of virtue and of political science is
with pleasures and pains; for the man who uses these well will be good, he who
uses them badly bad.
That virtue, then, is concerned with pleasures and
pains, and that by the acts from which it arises it is both increased and, if
they are done differently, destroyed, and that the acts from which it arose are
those in which it actualizes itself- let this be taken as said.
4
The question might be asked,; what we mean by saying
that we must become just by doing just acts, and temperate by doing temperate
acts; for if men do just and temperate acts, they are already just and
temperate, exactly as, if they do what is in accordance with the laws of
grammar and of music, they are grammarians and musicians.
Or is this not true even of the arts? It is possible
to do something that is in accordance with the laws of grammar, either by
chance or at the suggestion of another. A man will be a grammarian, then, only
when he has both done something grammatical and done it grammatically; and this
means doing it in accordance with the grammatical knowledge in himself.
Again, the case of the arts and that of the virtues
are not similar; for the products of the arts have their goodness in
themselves, so that it is enough that they should have a certain character, but
if the acts that are in accordance with the virtues have themselves a certain
character it does not follow that they are done justly or temperately. The
agent also must be in a certain condition when he does them; in the first place
he must have knowledge, secondly he must choose the acts, and choose them for
their own sakes, and thirdly his action must proceed from a firm and
unchangeable character. These are not reckoned in as conditions of the
possession of the arts, except the bare knowledge; but as a condition of the
possession of the virtues knowledge has little or no weight, while the other
conditions count not for a little but for everything, i.e. the very conditions
which result from often doing just and temperate acts.
Actions, then, are called just and temperate when they
are such as the just or the temperate man would do; but it is not the man who
does these that is just and temperate, but the man who also does them as just
and temperate men do them. It is well said, then, that it is by doing just acts
that the just man is produced, and by doing temperate acts the temperate man;
without doing these no one would have even a prospect of becoming good.
But most people do not do these, but take refuge in
theory and think they are being philosophers and will become good in this way,
behaving somewhat like patients who listen attentively to their doctors, but do
none of the things they are ordered to do. As the latter will not be made well
in body by such a course of treatment, the former will not be made well in soul
by such a course of philosophy.
5
Next we must consider what virtue is. Since things
that are found in the soul are of three kinds- passions, faculties, states of
character, virtue must be one of these. By passions I mean appetite, anger,
fear, confidence, envy, joy, friendly feeling, hatred, longing, emulation,
pity, and in general the feelings that are accompanied by pleasure or pain; by
faculties the things in virtue of which we are said to be capable of feeling
these, e.g. of becoming angry or being pained or feeling pity; by states of
character the things in virtue of which we stand well or badly with reference
to the passions, e.g. with reference to anger we stand badly if we feel it
violently or too weakly, and well if we feel it moderately; and similarly with reference
to the other passions.
Now neither the virtues nor the vices are passions,
because we are not called good or bad on the ground of our passions, but are so
called on the ground of our virtues and our vices, and because we are neither
praised nor blamed for our passions (for the man who feels fear or anger is not
praised, nor is the man who simply feels anger blamed, but the man who feels it
in a certain way), but for our virtues and our vices we are praised or blamed. Again, we feel anger and fear without
choice, but the virtues are modes of choice or involve choice. Further, in
respect of the passions we are said to be moved, but in respect of the virtues
and the vices we are said not to be moved but to be disposed in a particular
way.
For these reasons also they are not faculties; for we
are neither called good nor bad, nor praised nor blamed, for the simple
capacity of feeling the passions; again, we have the faculties by nature, but
we are not made good or bad by nature; we have spoken of this before. If, then,
the virtues are neither passions nor faculties, all that remains is that they
should be states of character.
Thus we have stated what virtue is in respect of its
genus.
6
We must, however, not only describe virtue as a state
of character, but also say what sort of state it is. We may remark, then, that
every virtue or excellence both brings into good condition the thing of which
it is the excellence and makes the work of that thing be done well; e.g. the
excellence of the eye makes both the eye and its work good; for it is by the
excellence of the eye that we see well. Similarly the excellence of the horse
makes a horse both good in itself and good at running and at carrying its rider
and at awaiting the attack of the enemy. Therefore, if this is true in every
case, the virtue of man also will be the state of character which makes a man
good and which makes him do his own work well.
How this is to happen we have stated already, but it
will be made plain also by the following consideration of the specific nature
of virtue. In everything that is continuous and divisible it is possible to
take more, less, or an equal amount, and that either in terms of the thing
itself or relatively to us; and the equal is an intermediate between excess and
defect. By the intermediate in the object I mean that which is equidistant from
each of the extremes, which is one and the same for all men; by the
intermediate relatively to us that which is neither too much nor too little-
and this is not one, nor the same for all. For instance, if ten is many and two
is few, six is the intermediate, taken in terms of the object; for it exceeds
and is exceeded by an equal amount; this is intermediate according to
arithmetical proportion. But the intermediate relatively to us is not to be
taken so; if ten pounds are too much for a particular person to eat and two too
little, it does not follow that the trainer will order six pounds; for this
also is perhaps too much for the person who is to take it, or too little- too
little for Milo, too much for the beginner in athletic exercises. The same is
true of running and wrestling. Thus a master of any art avoids excess and
defect, but seeks the intermediate and chooses this- the intermediate not in
the object but relatively to us.
If it is thus, then, that every art does its work
well- by looking to the intermediate and judgling its works by this standard
(so that we often say of good works of art that it is not possible either to
take away or to add anything, implying that excess and defect destroy the
goodness of works of art, while the mean preserves it; and good artists, as we
say, look to this in their work), and if, further, virtue is more exact and
better than any art, as nature also is, then virtue must have the quality of aiming
at the intermediate. I mean moral virtue; for it is this that is concerned with
passions and actions, and in these there is excess, defect, and the
intermediate. For instance, both fear and confidence and appetite and anger and
pity and in general pleasure and pain may be felt both too much and too little,
and in both cases not well; but to feel them at the right times, with reference
to the right objects, towards the right people, with the right motive, and in
the right way, is what is both intermediate and best, and this is
characteristic of virtue. Similarly with regard to actions also there is
excess, defect, and the intermediate. Now virtue is concerned with passions and
actions, in which excess is a form of failure, and so is defect, while the intermediate
is praised and is a form of success; and being praised and being successful are
both characteristics of virtue. Therefore virtue is a kind of mean, since, as
we have seen, it aims at what is intermediate.
Again, it is possible to fail in many ways (for evil
belongs to the class of the unlimited, as the Pythagoreans conjectured, and
good to that of the limited), while to succeed is possible only in one way (for
which reason also one is easy and the other difficult- to miss the mark easy,
to hit it difficult); for these reasons also, then, excess and defect are
characteristic of vice, and the mean of virtue;
For men are good in but one way, but bad in many.
Virtue, then, is a state of character concerned with
choice, lying in a mean, i.e. the mean relative to us, this being determined by
a rational principle, and by that principle by which the man of practical
wisdom would determine it. Now it is a mean between two vices, that which
depends on excess and that which depends on defect; and again it is a mean
because the vices respectively fall short of or exceed what is right in both
passions and actions, while virtue both finds and chooses that which is
intermediate. Hence in respect of its substance and the definition which states
its essence virtue is a mean, with regard to what is best and right an extreme.
But not every action nor every passion admits of a
mean; for some have names that already imply badness, e.g. spite,
shamelessness, envy, and in the case of actions adultery, theft, murder; for
all of these and suchlike things imply by their names that they are themselves
bad, and not the excesses or deficiencies of them. It is not possible, then,
ever to be right with regard to them; one must always be wrong. Nor does
goodness or badness with regard to such things depend on committing adultery
with the right woman, at the right time, and in the right way, but simply to do
any of them is to go wrong. It would be equally absurd, then, to expect that in
unjust, cowardly, and voluptuous action there should be a mean, an excess, and
a deficiency; for at that rate there would be a mean of excess and of
deficiency, an excess of excess, and a deficiency of deficiency. But as there
is no excess and deficiency of temperance and courage because what is intermediate
is in a sense an extreme, so too of the actions we have mentioned there is no
mean nor any excess and deficiency, but however they are done they are wrong;
for in general there is neither a mean of excess and deficiency, nor excess and
deficiency of a mean.
7
We must, however, not only make this general
statement, but also apply it to the individual facts. For among statements
about conduct those which are general apply more widely, but those which are
particular are more genuine, since conduct has to do with individual cases, and
our statements must harmonize with the facts in these cases. We may take these
cases from our table. With regard to feelings of fear and confidence courage is
the mean; of the people who exceed, he who exceeds in fearlessness has no name
(many of the states have no name), while the man who exceeds in confidence is
rash, and he who exceeds in fear and falls short in confidence is a coward. With
regard to pleasures and pains- not all of them, and not so much with regard to
the pains- the mean is temperance, the excess self-indulgence. Persons
deficient with regard to the pleasures are not often found; hence such persons
also have received no name. But let us call them 'insensible'.
With regard to giving and taking of money the mean is
liberality, the excess and the defect prodigality and meanness. In these
actions people exceed and fall short in contrary ways; the prodigal exceeds in
spending and falls short in taking, while the mean man exceeds in taking and
falls short in spending. (At present we are giving a mere outline or summary,
and are satisfied with this; later these states will be more exactly
determined.) With regard to money there are also other dispositions- a mean,
magnificence (for the magnificent man differs from the liberal man; the former
deals with large sums, the latter with small ones), an excess, tastelessness
and vulgarity, and a deficiency, niggardliness; these differ from the states
opposed to liberality, and the mode of their difference will be stated later. With
regard to honour and dishonour the mean is proper pride, the excess is known as
a sort of 'empty vanity', and the deficiency is undue humility; and as we said
liberality was related to magnificence, differing from it by dealing with small
sums, so there is a state similarly related to proper pride, being concerned
with small honours while that is concerned with great. For it is possible to
desire honour as one ought, and more than one ought, and less, and the man who
exceeds in his desires is called ambitious, the man who falls short
unambitious, while the intermediate person has no name. The dispositions also
are nameless, except that that of the ambitious man is called ambition. Hence
the people who are at the extremes lay claim to the middle place; and we
ourselves sometimes call the intermediate person ambitious and sometimes
unambitious, and sometimes praise the ambitious man and sometimes the
unambitious. The reason of our doing this will be stated in what follows; but
now let us speak of the remaining states according to the method which has been
indicated.
With regard to anger also there is an excess, a
deficiency, and a mean. Although they can scarcely be said to have names, yet
since we call the intermediate person good-tempered let us call the mean good
temper; of the persons at the extremes let the one who exceeds be called
irascible, and his vice irascibility, and the man who falls short an
inirascible sort of person, and the deficiency inirascibility.
There are also three other means, which have a certain
likeness to one another, but differ from one another: for they are all
concerned with intercourse in words and actions, but differ in that one is
concerned with truth in this sphere, the other two with pleasantness; and of
this one kind is exhibited in giving amusement, the other in all the
circumstances of life. We must therefore speak of these too, that we may the
better see that in all things the mean is praise-worthy, and the extremes
neither praiseworthy nor right, but worthy of blame. Now most of these states
also have no names, but we must try, as in the other cases, to invent names
ourselves so that we may be clear and easy to follow. With regard to truth,
then, the intermediate is a truthful sort of person and the mean may be called
truthfulness, while the pretence which exaggerates is boastfulness and the
person characterized by it a boaster, and that which understates is mock
modesty and the person characterized by it mock-modest. With regard to
pleasantness in the giving of amusement the intermediate person is ready-witted
and the disposition ready wit, the excess is buffoonery and the person
characterized by it a buffoon, while the man who falls short is a sort of boor
and his state is boorishness. With regard to the remaining kind of
pleasantness, that which is exhibited in life in general, the man who is
pleasant in the right way is friendly and the mean is friendliness, while the
man who exceeds is an obsequious person if he has no end in view, a flatterer
if he is aiming at his own advantage, and the man who falls short and is
unpleasant in all circumstances is a quarrelsome and surly sort of person.
There are also means in the passions and concerned
with the passions; since shame is not a virtue, and yet praise is extended to
the modest man. For even in these matters one man is said to be intermediate,
and another to exceed, as for instance the bashful man who is ashamed of
everything; while he who falls short or is not ashamed of anything at all is
shameless, and the intermediate person is modest. Righteous indignation is a
mean between envy and spite, and these states are concerned with the pain and
pleasure that are felt at the fortunes of our neighbours; the man who is
characterized by righteous indignation is pained at undeserved good fortune,
the envious man, going beyond him, is pained at all good fortune, and the
spiteful man falls so far short of being pained that he even rejoices. But
these states there will be an opportunity of describing elsewhere; with regard
to justice, since it has not one simple meaning, we shall, after describing the
other states, distinguish its two kinds and say how each of them is a mean; and
similarly we shall treat also of the rational virtues.
8
There are three kinds of disposition, then, two of
them vices, involving excess and deficiency respectively, and one a virtue,
viz. the mean, and all are in a sense opposed to all; for the extreme states
are contrary both to the intermediate state and to each other, and the
intermediate to the extremes; as the equal is greater relatively to the less,
less relatively to the greater, so the middle states are excessive relatively
to the deficiencies, deficient relatively to the excesses, both in passions and
in actions. For the brave man appears rash relatively to the coward, and
cowardly relatively to the rash man; and similarly the temperate man appears
self-indulgent relatively to the insensible man, insensible relatively to the
self-indulgent, and the liberal man prodigal relatively to the mean man, mean
relatively to the prodigal. Hence also the people at the extremes push the
intermediate man each over to the other, and the brave man is called rash by
the coward, cowardly by the rash man, and correspondingly in the other cases.
These states being thus opposed to one another, the
greatest contrariety is that of the extremes to each other, rather than to the
intermediate; for these are further from each other than from the intermediate,
as the great is further from the small and the small from the great than both
are from the equal. Again, to the intermediate some extremes show a certain
likeness, as that of rashness to courage and that of prodigality to liberality;
but the extremes show the greatest unlikeness to each other; now contraries are
defined as the things that are furthest from each other, so that things that
are further apart are more contrary.
To the mean in some cases the deficiency, in some the
excess is more opposed; e.g. it is not rashness, which is an excess, but
cowardice, which is a deficiency, that is more opposed to courage, and not
insensibility, which is a deficiency, but self-indulgence, which is an excess,
that is more opposed to temperance. This happens from two reasons, one being
drawn from the thing itself; for because one extreme is nearer and liker to the
intermediate, we oppose not this but rather its contrary to the intermediate. E.g.
since rashness is thought liker and nearer to courage, and cowardice more
unlike, we oppose rather the latter to courage; for things that are further
from the intermediate are thought more contrary to it. This, then, is one
cause, drawn from the thing itself; another is drawn from ourselves; for the
things to which we ourselves more naturally tend seem more contrary to the
intermediate. For instance, we ourselves tend more naturally to pleasures, and
hence are more easily carried away towards self-indulgence than towards
propriety. We describe as contrary to the mean, then, rather the directions in
which we more often go to great lengths; and therefore self-indulgence, which
is an excess, is the more contrary to temperance.
9
That moral virtue is a mean, then, and in what sense
it is so, and that it is a mean between two vices, the one involving excess,
the other deficiency, and that it is such because its character is to aim at
what is intermediate in passions and in actions, has been sufficiently stated. Hence
also it is no easy task to be good. For in everything it is no easy task to
find the middle, e.g. to find the middle of a circle is not for every one but
for him who knows; so, too, any one can get angry- that is easy- or give or
spend money; but to do this to the right person, to the right extent, at the
right time, with the right motive, and in the right way, that is not for every one,
nor is it easy; wherefore goodness is both rare and laudable and noble.
Hence he who aims at the intermediate must first
depart from what is the more contrary to it, as Calypso advises-
Hold the ship out beyond that surf and spray.
For of the extremes one is more erroneous, one less
so; therefore, since to hit the mean is hard in the extreme, we must as a
second best, as people say, take the least of the evils; and this will be done
best in the way we describe. But we must consider the things towards which we
ourselves also are easily carried away; for some of us tend to one thing, some
to another; and this will be recognizable from the pleasure and the pain we
feel. We must drag ourselves away to the contrary extreme; for we shall get
into the intermediate state by drawing well away from error, as people do in
straightening sticks that are bent.
Now in everything the pleasant or pleasure is most to
be guarded against; for we do not judge it impartially. We ought, then, to feel
towards pleasure as the elders of the people felt towards Helen, and in all
circumstances repeat their saying; for if we dismiss pleasure thus we are less
likely to go astray. It is by doing this, then, (to sum the matter up) that we
shall best be able to hit the mean.
But this is no doubt difficult, and especially in
individual cases; for or is not easy to determine both how and with whom and on
what provocation and how long one should be angry; for we too sometimes praise
those who fall short and call them good-tempered, but sometimes we praise those
who get angry and call them manly. The man, however, who deviates little from
goodness is not blamed, whether he do so in the direction of the more or of the
less, but only the man who deviates more widely; for he does not fail to be
noticed. But up to what point and to what extent a man must deviate before he
becomes blameworthy it is not easy to determine by reasoning, any more than
anything else that is perceived by the senses; such things depend on particular
facts, and the decision rests with perception. So much, then, is plain, that
the intermediate state is in all things to be praised, but that we must incline
sometimes towards the excess, sometimes towards the deficiency; for so shall we
most easily hit the mean and what is right.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK III
1
Since virtue is concerned with passions and actions,
and on voluntary passions and actions praise and blame are bestowed, on those
that are involuntary pardon, and sometimes also pity, to distinguish the
voluntary and the involuntary is presumably necessary for those who are
studying the nature of virtue, and useful also for legislators with a view to
the assigning both of honours and of punishments. Those things, then, are
thought-involuntary, which take place under compulsion or owing to ignorance;
and that is compulsory of which the moving principle is outside, being a
principle in which nothing is contributed by the person who is acting or is
feeling the passion, e.g. if he were to be carried somewhere by a wind, or by
men who had him in their power.
But with regard to the things that are done from fear
of greater evils or for some noble object (e.g. if a tyrant were to order one
to do something base, having one's parents and children in his power, and if
one did the action they were to be saved, but otherwise would be put to death),
it may be debated whether such actions are involuntary or voluntary. Something
of the sort happens also with regard to the throwing of goods overboard in a
storm; for in the abstract no one throws goods away voluntarily, but on
condition of its securing the safety of himself and his crew any sensible man
does so. Such actions, then, are mixed, but are more like voluntary actions;
for they are worthy of choice at the time when they are done, and the end of an
action is relative to the occasion. Both the terms, then, 'voluntary' and
'involuntary', must be used with reference to the moment of action. Now the man
acts voluntarily; for the principle that moves the instrumental parts of the
body in such actions is in him, and the things of which the moving principle is
in a man himself are in his power to do or not to do. Such actions, therefore,
are voluntary, but in the abstract perhaps involuntary; for no one would choose
any such act in itself.
For such actions men are sometimes even praised, when
they endure something base or painful in return for great and noble objects
gained; in the opposite case they are blamed, since to endure the greatest
indignities for no noble end or for a trifling end is the mark of an inferior
person. On some actions praise indeed is not bestowed, but pardon is, when one
does what he ought not under pressure which overstrains human nature and which
no one could withstand. But some acts, perhaps, we cannot be forced to do, but
ought rather to face death after the most fearful sufferings; for the things
that 'forced' Euripides Alcmaeon to slay his mother seem absurd. It is
difficult sometimes to determine what should be chosen at what cost, and what
should be endured in return for what gain, and yet more difficult to abide by
our decisions; for as a rule what is expected is painful, and what we are
forced to do is base, whence praise and blame are bestowed on those who have
been compelled or have not.
What sort of acts, then, should be called compulsory? We
answer that without qualification actions are so when the cause is in the
external circumstances and the agent contributes nothing. But the things that
in themselves are involuntary, but now and in return for these gains are worthy
of choice, and whose moving principle is in the agent, are in themselves
involuntary, but now and in return for these gains voluntary. They are more
like voluntary acts; for actions are in the class of particulars, and the
particular acts here are voluntary. What sort of things are to be chosen, and
in return for what, it is not easy to state; for there are many differences in
the particular cases.
But if some one were to say that pleasant and noble
objects have a compelling power, forcing us from without, all acts would be for
him compulsory; for it is for these objects that all men do everything they do.
And those who act under compulsion and unwillingly act with pain, but those who
do acts for their pleasantness and nobility do them with pleasure; it is absurd
to make external circumstances responsible, and not oneself, as being easily
caught by such attractions, and to make oneself responsible for noble acts but
the pleasant objects responsible for base acts. The compulsory, then, seems to
be that whose moving principle is outside, the person compelled contributing
nothing.
Everything that is done by reason of ignorance is not
voluntary; it is only what produces pain and repentance that is involuntary. For
the man who has done something owing to ignorance, and feels not the least
vexation at his action, has not acted voluntarily, since he did not know what
he was doing, nor yet involuntarily, since he is not pained. Of people, then,
who act by reason of ignorance he who repents is thought an involuntary agent,
and the man who does not repent may, since he is different, be called a not
voluntary agent; for, since he differs from the other, it is better that he
should have a name of his own.
Acting by reason of ignorance seems also to be
different from acting in ignorance; for the man who is drunk or in a rage is
thought to act as a result not of ignorance but of one of the causes mentioned,
yet not knowingly but in ignorance.
Now every wicked man is ignorant of what he ought to
do and what he ought to abstain from, and it is by reason of error of this kind
that men become unjust and in general bad; but the term 'involuntary' tends to
be used not if a man is ignorant of what is to his advantage- for it is not
mistaken purpose that causes involuntary action (it leads rather to
wickedness), nor ignorance of the universal (for that men are blamed), but
ignorance of particulars, i.e. of the circumstances of the action and the
objects with which it is concerned. For it is on these that both pity and
pardon depend, since the person who is ignorant of any of these acts
involuntarily.
Perhaps it is just as well, therefore, to determine
their nature and number. A man may be ignorant, then, of who he is, what he is
doing, what or whom he is acting on, and sometimes also what (e.g. what
instrument) he is doing it with, and to what end (e.g. he may think his act
will conduce to some one's safety), and how he is doing it (e.g. whether gently
or violently). Now of all of these no one could be ignorant unless he were mad,
and evidently also he could not be ignorant of the agent; for how could he not
know himself? But of what he is doing a man might be ignorant, as for instance
people say 'it slipped out of their mouths as they were speaking', or 'they did
not know it was a secret', as Aeschylus said of the mysteries, or a man might
say he 'let it go off when he merely wanted to show its working', as the man
did with the catapult. Again, one might think one's son was an enemy, as Merope
did, or that a pointed spear had a button on it, or that a stone was
pumicestone; or one might give a man a draught to save him, and really kill
him; or one might want to touch a man, as people do in sparring, and really
wound him. The ignorance may relate, then, to any of these things, i.e. of the
circumstances of the action, and the man who was ignorant of any of these is
thought to have acted involuntarily, and especially if he was ignorant on the
most important points; and these are thought to be the circumstances of the
action and its end. Further, the doing of an act that is called involuntary in
virtue of ignorance of this sort must be painful and involve repentance.
Since that which is done under compulsion or by reason
of ignorance is involuntary, the voluntary would seem to be that of which the
moving principle is in the agent himself, he being aware of the particular
circumstances of the action. Presumably acts done by reason of anger or
appetite are not rightly called involuntary. For in the first place, on that
showing none of the other animals will act voluntarily, nor will children; and
secondly, is it meant that we do not do voluntarily any of the acts that are
due to appetite or anger, or that we do the noble acts voluntarily and the base
acts involuntarily? Is not this absurd, when one and the same thing is the
cause? But it would surely be odd to describe as involuntary the things one
ought to desire; and we ought both to be angry at certain things and to have an
appetite for certain things, e.g. for health and for learning. Also what is
involuntary is thought to be painful, but what is in accordance with appetite
is thought to be pleasant. Again, what is the difference in respect of
involuntariness between errors committed upon calculation and those committed
in anger? Both are to be avoided, but the irrational passions are thought not
less human than reason is, and therefore also the actions which proceed from
anger or appetite are the man's actions. It would be odd, then, to treat them
as involuntary.
2
Both the voluntary and the involuntary having been
delimited, we must next discuss choice; for it is thought to be most closely
bound up with virtue and to discriminate characters better than actions do.
Choice, then, seems to be voluntary, but not the same
thing as the voluntary; the latter extends more widely. For both children and
the lower animals share in voluntary action, but not in choice, and acts done
on the spur of the moment we describe as voluntary, but not as chosen.
Those who say it is appetite or anger or wish or a
kind of opinion do not seem to be right. For choice is not common to irrational
creatures as well, but appetite and anger are. Again, the incontinent man acts
with appetite, but not with choice; while the continent man on the contrary
acts with choice, but not with appetite. Again, appetite is contrary to choice,
but not appetite to appetite. Again, appetite relates to the pleasant and the
painful, choice neither to the painful nor to the pleasant.
Still less is it anger; for acts due to anger are
thought to be less than any others objects of choice.
But neither is it wish, though it seems near to it;
for choice cannot relate to impossibles, and if any one said he chose them he
would be thought silly; but there may be a wish even for impossibles, e.g. for
immortality. And wish may relate to things that could in no way be brought
about by one's own efforts, e.g. that a particular actor or athlete should win
in a competition; but no one chooses such things, but only the things that he
thinks could be brought about by his own efforts. Again, wish relates rather to
the end, choice to the means; for instance, we wish to be healthy, but we
choose the acts which will make us healthy, and we wish to be happy and say we
do, but we cannot well say we choose to be so; for, in general, choice seems to
relate to the things that are in our own power.
For this reason, too, it cannot be opinion; for
opinion is thought to relate to all kinds of things, no less to eternal things
and impossible things than to things in our own power; and it is distinguished
by its falsity or truth, not by its badness or goodness, while choice is
distinguished rather by these.
Now with opinion in general perhaps no one even says it
is identical. But it is not identical even with any kind of opinion; for by
choosing what is good or bad we are men of a certain character, which we are
not by holding certain opinions. And we choose to get or avoid something good
or bad, but we have opinions about what a thing is or whom it is good for or
how it is good for him; we can hardly be said to opine to get or avoid
anything. And choice is praised for being related to the right object rather
than for being rightly related to it, opinion for being truly related to its
object. And we choose what we best know to be good, but we opine what we do not
quite know; and it is not the same people that are thought to make the best
choices and to have the best opinions, but some are thought to have fairly good
opinions, but by reason of vice to choose what they should not. If opinion
precedes choice or accompanies it, that makes no difference; for it is not this
that we are considering, but whether it is identical with some kind of opinion.
What, then, or what kind of thing is it, since it is
none of the things we have mentioned? It seems to be voluntary, but not all
that is voluntary to be an object of choice. Is it, then, what has been decided
on by previous deliberation? At any rate choice involves a rational principle
and thought. Even the name seems to suggest that it is what is chosen before
other things.
3
Do we deliberate about everything, and is everything a
possible subject of deliberation, or is deliberation impossible about some
things? We ought presumably to call not what a fool or a madman would
deliberate about, but what a sensible man would deliberate about, a subject of
deliberation. Now about eternal things no one deliberates, e.g. about the
material universe or the incommensurability of the diagonal and the side of a
square. But no more do we deliberate about the things that involve movement but
always happen in the same way, whether of necessity or by nature or from any
other cause, e.g. the solstices and the risings of the stars; nor about things
that happen now in one way, now in another, e.g. droughts and rains; nor about
chance events, like the finding of treasure. But we do not deliberate even
about all human affairs; for instance, no Spartan deliberates about the best
constitution for the Scythians. For none of these things can be brought about
by our own efforts.
We deliberate about things that are in our power and
can be done; and these are in fact what is left. For nature, necessity, and
chance are thought to be causes, and also reason and everything that depends on
man. Now every class of men deliberates about the things that can be done by
their own efforts. And in the case of exact and self-contained sciences there
is no deliberation, e.g. about the letters of the alphabet (for we have no
doubt how they should be written); but the things that are brought about by our
own efforts, but not always in the same way, are the things about which we
deliberate, e.g. questions of medical treatment or of money-making. And we do
so more in the case of the art of navigation than in that of gymnastics,
inasmuch as it has been less exactly worked out, and again about other things
in the same ratio, and more also in the case of the arts than in that of the
sciences; for we have more doubt about the former. Deliberation is concerned
with things that happen in a certain way for the most part, but in which the
event is obscure, and with things in which it is indeterminate. We call in
others to aid us in deliberation on important questions, distrusting ourselves
as not being equal to deciding.
We deliberate not about ends but about means. For a
doctor does not deliberate whether he shall heal, nor an orator whether he
shall persuade, nor a statesman whether he shall produce law and order, nor
does any one else deliberate about his end. They assume the end and consider
how and by what means it is to be attained; and if it seems to be produced by
several means they consider by which it is most easily and best produced, while
if it is achieved by one only they consider how it will be achieved by this and
by what means this will be achieved, till they come to the first cause, which
in the order of discovery is last. For the person who deliberates seems to
investigate and analyse in the way described as though he were analysing a
geometrical construction (not all investigation appears to be deliberation- for
instance mathematical investigations- but all deliberation is investigation),
and what is last in the order of analysis seems to be first in the order of becoming.
And if we come on an impossibility, we give up the search, e.g. if we need
money and this cannot be got; but if a thing appears possible we try to do it. By
'possible' things I mean things that might be brought about by our own efforts;
and these in a sense include things that can be brought about by the efforts of
our friends, since the moving principle is in ourselves. The subject of
investigation is sometimes the instruments, sometimes the use of them; and
similarly in the other cases- sometimes the means, sometimes the mode of using
it or the means of bringing it about. It seems, then, as has been said, that
man is a moving principle of actions; now deliberation is about the things to
be done by the agent himself, and actions are for the sake of things other than
themselves. For the end cannot be a subject of deliberation, but only the
means; nor indeed can the particular facts be a subject of it, as whether this
is bread or has been baked as it should; for these are matters of perception. If
we are to be always deliberating, we shall have to go on to infinity.
The same thing is deliberated upon and is chosen,
except that the object of choice is already determinate, since it is that which
has been decided upon as a result of deliberation that is the object of choice.
For every one ceases to inquire how he is to act when he has brought the moving
principle back to himself and to the ruling part of himself; for this is what
chooses. This is plain also from the ancient constitutions, which Homer represented;
for the kings announced their choices to the people. The object of choice being
one of the things in our own power which is desired after deliberation, choice
will be deliberate desire of things in our own power; for when we have decided
as a result of deliberation, we desire in accordance with our deliberation.
We may take it, then, that we have described choice in
outline, and stated the nature of its objects and the fact that it is concerned
with means.
4
That wish is for the end has already been stated; some
think it is for the good, others for the apparent good. Now those who say that
the good is the object of wish must admit in consequence that that which the
man who does not choose aright wishes for is not an object of wish (for if it
is to be so, it must also be good; but it was, if it so happened, bad); while
those who say the apparent good is the object of wish must admit that there is
no natural object of wish, but only what seems good to each man. Now different
things appear good to different people, and, if it so happens, even contrary
things.
If these consequences are unpleasing, are we to say
that absolutely and in truth the good is the object of wish, but for each
person the apparent good; that that which is in truth an object of wish is an
object of wish to the good man, while any chance thing may be so the bad man,
as in the case of bodies also the things that are in truth wholesome are
wholesome for bodies which are in good condition, while for those that are
diseased other things are wholesome- or bitter or sweet or hot or heavy, and so
on; since the good man judges each class of things rightly, and in each the
truth appears to him? For each state of character has its own ideas of the
noble and the pleasant, and perhaps the good man differs from others most by
seeing the truth in each class of things, being as it were the norm and measure
of them. In most things the error seems to be due to pleasure; for it appears a
good when it is not. We therefore choose the pleasant as a good, and avoid pain
as an evil.
5
The end, then, being what we wish for, the means what
we deliberate about and choose, actions concerning means must be according to
choice and voluntary. Now the exercise of the virtues is concerned with means. Therefore
virtue also is in our own power, and so too vice. For where it is in our power
to act it is also in our power not to act, and vice versa; so that, if to act,
where this is noble, is in our power, not to act, which will be base, will also
be in our power, and if not to act, where this is noble, is in our power, to
act, which will be base, will also be in our power. Now if it is in our power
to do noble or base acts, and likewise in our power not to do them, and this
was what being good or bad meant, then it is in our power to be virtuous or
vicious.
The saying that 'no one is voluntarily wicked nor
involuntarily happy' seems to be partly false and partly true; for no one is
involuntarily happy, but wickedness is voluntary. Or else we shall have to
dispute what has just been said, at any rate, and deny that man is a moving
principle or begetter of his actions as of children. But if these facts are
evident and we cannot refer actions to moving principles other than those in
ourselves, the acts whose moving principles are in us must themselves also be
in our power and voluntary.
Witness seems to be borne to this both by individuals
in their private capacity and by legislators themselves; for these punish and
take vengeance on those who do wicked acts (unless they have acted under
compulsion or as a result of ignorance for which they are not themselves
responsible), while they honour those who do noble acts, as though they meant
to encourage the latter and deter the former. But no one is encouraged to do
the things that are neither in our power nor voluntary; it is assumed that
there is no gain in being persuaded not to be hot or in pain or hungry or the
like, since we shall experience these feelings none the less. Indeed, we punish
a man for his very ignorance, if he is thought responsible for the ignorance,
as when penalties are doubled in the case of drunkenness; for the moving
principle is in the man himself, since he had the power of not getting drunk
and his getting drunk was the cause of his ignorance. And we punish those who
are ignorant of anything in the laws that they ought to know and that is not
difficult, and so too in the case of anything else that they are thought to be
ignorant of through carelessness; we assume that it is in their power not to be
ignorant, since they have the power of taking care.
But perhaps a man is the kind of man not to take care.
Still they are themselves by their slack lives responsible for becoming men of
that kind, and men make themselves responsible for being unjust or self-indulgent,
in the one case by cheating and in the other by spending their time in drinking
bouts and the like; for it is activities exercised on particular objects that
make the corresponding character. This is plain from the case of people
training for any contest or action; they practise the activity the whole time. Now
not to know that it is from the exercise of activities on particular objects
that states of character are produced is the mark of a thoroughly senseless
person. Again, it is irrational to suppose that a man who acts unjustly does
not wish to be unjust or a man who acts self-indulgently to be self-indulgent. But
if without being ignorant a man does the things which will make him unjust, he
will be unjust voluntarily. Yet it does not follow that if he wishes he will
cease to be unjust and will be just. For neither does the man who is ill become
well on those terms. We may suppose a case in which he is ill voluntarily,
through living incontinently and disobeying his doctors. In that case it was
then open to him not to be ill, but not now, when he has thrown away his
chance, just as when you have let a stone go it is too late to recover it; but
yet it was in your power to throw it, since the moving principle was in you. So,
too, to the unjust and to the self-indulgent man it was open at the beginning
not to become men of this kind, and so they are unjust and selfindulgent
voluntarily; but now that they have become so it is not possible for them not
to be so.
But not only are the vices of the soul voluntary, but
those of the body also for some men, whom we accordingly blame; while no one
blames those who are ugly by nature, we blame those who are so owing to want of
exercise and care. So it is, too, with respect to weakness and infirmity; no
one would reproach a man blind from birth or by disease or from a blow, but
rather pity him, while every one would blame a man who was blind from
drunkenness or some other form of self-indulgence. Of vices of the body, then,
those in our own power are blamed, those not in our power are not. And if this
be so, in the other cases also the vices that are blamed must be in our own
power.
Now some one may say that all men desire the apparent
good, but have no control over the appearance, but the end appears to each man
in a form answering to his character. We reply that if each man is somehow
responsible for his state of mind, he will also be himself somehow responsible
for the appearance; but if not, no one is responsible for his own evildoing,
but every one does evil acts through ignorance of the end, thinking that by
these he will get what is best, and the aiming at the end is not self-chosen
but one must be born with an eye, as it were, by which to judge rightly and
choose what is truly good, and he is well endowed by nature who is well endowed
with this. For it is what is greatest and most noble, and what we cannot get or
learn from another, but must have just such as it was when given us at birth,
and to be well and nobly endowed with this will be perfect and true excellence
of natural endowment. If this is true, then, how will virtue be more voluntary
than vice? To both men alike, the good and the bad, the end appears and is
fixed by nature or however it may be, and it is by referring everything else to
this that men do whatever they do.
Whether, then, it is not by nature that the end
appears to each man such as it does appear, but something also depends on him,
or the end is natural but because the good man adopts the means voluntarily
virtue is voluntary, vice also will be none the less voluntary; for in the case
of the bad man there is equally present that which depends on himself in his
actions even if not in his end. If, then, as is asserted, the virtues are
voluntary (for we are ourselves somehow partly responsible for our states of
character, and it is by being persons of a certain kind that we assume the end
to be so and so), the vices also will be voluntary; for the same is true of
them.
With regard to the virtues in general we have stated
their genus in outline, viz. that they are means and that they are states of
character, and that they tend, and by their own nature, to the doing of the
acts by which they are produced, and that they are in our power and voluntary,
and act as the right rule prescribes. But actions and states of character are
not voluntary in the same way; for we are masters of our actions from the
beginning right to the end, if we know the particular facts, but though we
control the beginning of our states of character the gradual progress is not
obvious any more than it is in illnesses; because it was in our power, however,
to act in this way or not in this way, therefore the states are voluntary.
Let us take up the several virtues, however, and say
which they are and what sort of things they are concerned with and how they are
concerned with them; at the same time it will become plain how many they are. And
first let us speak of courage.
6
That it is a mean with regard to feelings of fear and
confidence has already been made evident; and plainly the things we fear are
terrible things, and these are, to speak without qualification, evils; for
which reason people even define fear as expectation of evil. Now we fear all
evils, e.g. disgrace, poverty, disease, friendlessness, death, but the brave man
is not thought to be concerned with all; for to fear some things is even right
and noble, and it is base not to fear them- e.g. disgrace; he who fears this is
good and modest, and he who does not is shameless. He is, however, by some
people called brave, by a transference of the word to a new meaning; for he has
in him something which is like the brave man, since the brave man also is a
fearless person. Poverty and disease we perhaps ought not to fear, nor in
general the things that do not proceed from vice and are not due to a man
himself. But not even the man who is fearless of these is brave. Yet we apply
the word to him also in virtue of a similarity; for some who in the dangers of
war are cowards are liberal and are confident in face of the loss of money. Nor
is a man a coward if he fears insult to his wife and children or envy or
anything of the kind; nor brave if he is confident when he is about to be
flogged. With what sort of terrible things, then, is the brave man concerned? Surely
with the greatest; for no one is more likely than he to stand his ground
against what is awe-inspiring. Now death is the most terrible of all things;
for it is the end, and nothing is thought to be any longer either good or bad
for the dead. But the brave man would not seem to be concerned even with death
in all circumstances, e.g. at sea or in disease. In what circumstances, then? Surely
in the noblest. Now such deaths are those in battle; for these take place in
the greatest and noblest danger. And these are correspondingly honoured in
city-states and at the courts of monarchs. Properly, then, he will be called
brave who is fearless in face of a noble death, and of all emergencies that
involve death; and the emergencies of war are in the highest degree of this
kind. Yet at sea also, and in disease, the brave man is fearless, but not in
the same way as the seaman; for he has given up hope of safety, and is
disliking the thought of death in this shape, while they are hopeful because of
their experience. At the same time, we show courage in situations where there
is the opportunity of showing prowess or where death is noble; but in these
forms of death neither of these conditions is fulfilled.
7
What is terrible is not the same for all men; but we
say there are things terrible even beyond human strength. These, then, are
terrible to every one- at least to every sensible man; but the terrible things
that are not beyond human strength differ in magnitude and degree, and so too
do the things that inspire confidence. Now the brave man is as dauntless as man
may be. Therefore, while he will fear even the things that are not beyond human
strength, he will face them as he ought and as the rule directs, for honour's
sake; for this is the end of virtue. But it is possible to fear these more, or
less, and again to fear things that are not terrible as if they were. Of the
faults that are committed one consists in fearing what one should not, another
in fearing as we should not, another in fearing when we should not, and so on;
and so too with respect to the things that inspire confidence. The man, then,
who faces and who fears the right things and from the right motive, in the
right way and from the right time, and who feels confidence under the
corresponding conditions, is brave; for the brave man feels and acts according
to the merits of the case and in whatever way the rule directs. Now the end of
every activity is conformity to the corresponding state of character. This is
true, therefore, of the brave man as well as of others. But courage is noble. Therefore
the end also is noble; for each thing is defined by its end. Therefore it is
for a noble end that the brave man endures and acts as courage directs.
Of those who go to excess he who exceeds in
fearlessness has no name (we have said previously that many states of character
have no names), but he would be a sort of madman or insensible person if he
feared nothing, neither earthquakes nor the waves, as they say the Celts do
not; while the man who exceeds in confidence about what really is terrible is
rash. The rash man, however, is also thought to be boastful and only a
pretender to courage; at all events, as the brave man is with regard to what is
terrible, so the rash man wishes to appear; and so he imitates him in
situations where he can. Hence also most of them are a mixture of rashness and
cowardice; for, while in these situations they display confidence, they do not
hold their ground against what is really terrible. The man who exceeds in fear
is a coward; for he fears both what he ought not and as he ought not, and all
the similar characterizations attach to him. He is lacking also in confidence;
but he is more conspicuous for his excess of fear in painful situations. The
coward, then, is a despairing sort of person; for he fears everything. The
brave man, on the other hand, has the opposite disposition; for confidence is
the mark of a hopeful disposition. The coward, the rash man, and the brave man,
then, are concerned with the same objects but are differently disposed towards
them; for the first two exceed and fall short, while the third holds the
middle, which is the right, position; and rash men are precipitate, and wish
for dangers beforehand but draw back when they are in them, while brave men are
keen in the moment of action, but quiet beforehand.
As we have said, then, courage is a mean with respect
to things that inspire confidence or fear, in the circumstances that have been
stated; and it chooses or endures things because it is noble to do so, or
because it is base not to do so. But to die to escape from poverty or love or
anything painful is not the mark of a brave man, but rather of a coward; for it
is softness to fly from what is troublesome, and such a man endures death not
because it is noble but to fly from evil.
8
Courage, then, is something of this sort, but the name
is also applied to five other kinds.
First comes the courage of the citizen-soldier; for
this is most like true courage. Citizen-soldiers seem to face dangers because
of the penalties imposed by the laws and the reproaches they would otherwise
incur, and because of the honours they win by such action; and therefore those
peoples seem to be bravest among whom cowards are held in dishonour and brave
men in honour. This is the kind of courage that Homer depicts, e.g. in Diomede
and in Hector:
First will Polydamas be to heap reproach on me then;
and
For Hector one day 'mid the Trojans shall utter his
vaulting
harangue:
Afraid was Tydeides, and fled from my face.
This kind of courage is most like to that which we
described earlier, because it is due to virtue; for it is due to shame and to
desire of a noble object (i.e. honour) and avoidance of disgrace, which is
ignoble. One might rank in the same class even those who are compelled by their
rulers; but they are inferior, inasmuch as they do what they do not from shame
but from fear, and to avoid not what is disgraceful but what is painful; for
their masters compel them, as Hector does:
But if I shall spy any dastard that cowers far from
the fight,
Vainly will such an one hope to escape from the dogs.
And those who give them their posts, and beat them if
they retreat, do the same, and so do those who draw them up with trenches or
something of the sort behind them; all of these apply compulsion. But one ought
to be brave not under compulsion but because it is noble to be so.
(2) Experience with regard to particular facts is also
thought to be courage; this is indeed the reason why Socrates thought courage
was knowledge. Other people exhibit this quality in other dangers, and
professional soldiers exhibit it in the dangers of war; for there seem to be
many empty alarms in war, of which these have had the most comprehensive
experience; therefore they seem brave, because the others do not know the
nature of the facts. Again, their experience makes them most capable in attack
and in defence, since they can use their arms and have the kind that are likely
to be best both for attack and for defence; therefore they fight like armed men
against unarmed or like trained athletes against amateurs; for in such contests
too it is not the bravest men that fight best, but those who are strongest and
have their bodies in the best condition. Professional soldiers turn cowards,
however, when the danger puts too great a strain on them and they are inferior
in numbers and equipment; for they are the first to fly, while citizen-forces
die at their posts, as in fact happened at the temple of Hermes. For to the
latter flight is disgraceful and death is preferable to safety on those terms;
while the former from the very beginning faced the danger on the assumption
that they were stronger, and when they know the facts they fly, fearing death
more than disgrace; but the brave man is not that sort of person.
(3) Passion also is sometimes reckoned as courage;
those who act from passion, like wild beasts rushing at those who have wounded
them, are thought to be brave, because brave men also are passionate; for
passion above all things is eager to rush on danger, and hence Homer's 'put
strength into his passion' and 'aroused their spirit and passion and 'hard he
breathed panting' and 'his blood boiled'. For all such expressions seem to
indicate the stirring and onset of passion. Now brave men act for honour's
sake, but passion aids them; while wild beasts act under the influence of pain;
for they attack because they have been wounded or because they are afraid,
since if they are in a forest they do not come near one. Thus they are not
brave because, driven by pain and passion, they rush on danger without
foreseeing any of the perils, since at that rate even asses would be brave when
they are hungry; for blows will not drive them from their food; and lust also
makes adulterers do many daring things. (Those creatures are not brave, then,
which are driven on to danger by pain or passion.) The 'courage' that is due to
passion seems to be the most natural, and to be courage if choice and motive be
added.
Men, then, as well as beasts, suffer pain when they
are angry, and are pleased when they exact their revenge; those who fight for
these reasons, however, are pugnacious but not brave; for they do not act for
honour's sake nor as the rule directs, but from strength of feeling; they have,
however, something akin to courage.
(4) Nor are sanguine people brave; for they are
confident in danger only because they have conquered often and against many
foes. Yet they closely resemble brave men, because both are confident; but
brave men are confident for the reasons stated earlier, while these are so
because they think they are the strongest and can suffer nothing. (Drunken men
also behave in this way; they become sanguine). When their adventures do not
succeed, however, they run away; but it was the mark of a brave man to face
things that are, and seem, terrible for a man, because it is noble to do so and
disgraceful not to do so. Hence also it is thought the mark of a braver man to
be fearless and undisturbed in sudden alarms than to be so in those that are
foreseen; for it must have proceeded more from a state of character, because
less from preparation; acts that are foreseen may be chosen by calculation and
rule, but sudden actions must be in accordance with one's state of character.
(5) People who are ignorant of the danger also appear
brave, and they are not far removed from those of a sanguine temper, but are
inferior inasmuch as they have no self-reliance while these have. Hence also
the sanguine hold their ground for a time; but those who have been deceived
about the facts fly if they know or suspect that these are different from what
they supposed, as happened to the Argives when they fell in with the Spartans
and took them for Sicyonians.
We have, then, described the character both of brave
men and of those who are thought to be brave.
9
Though courage is concerned with feelings of
confidence and of fear, it is not concerned with both alike, but more with the
things that inspire fear; for he who is undisturbed in face of these and bears
himself as he should towards these is more truly brave than the man who does so
towards the things that inspire confidence. It is for facing what is painful,
then, as has been said, that men are called brave. Hence also courage involves
pain, and is justly praised; for it is harder to face what is painful than to
abstain from what is pleasant.
Yet the end which courage sets before it would seem to
be pleasant, but to be concealed by the attending circumstances, as happens
also in athletic contests; for the end at which boxers aim is pleasant- the
crown and the honours- but the blows they take are distressing to flesh and
blood, and painful, and so is their whole exertion; and because the blows and
the exertions are many the end, which is but small, appears to have nothing
pleasant in it. And so, if the case of courage is similar, death and wounds
will be painful to the brave man and against his will, but he will face them
because it is noble to do so or because it is base not to do so. And the more
he is possessed of virtue in its entirety and the happier he is, the more he
will be pained at the thought of death; for life is best worth living for such
a man, and he is knowingly losing the greatest goods, and this is painful. But
he is none the less brave, and perhaps all the more so, because he chooses
noble deeds of war at that cost. It is not the case, then, with all the virtues
that the exercise of them is pleasant, except in so far as it reaches its end. But
it is quite possible that the best soldiers may be not men of this sort but
those who are less brave but have no other good; for these are ready to face
danger, and they sell their life for trifling gains.
So much, then, for courage; it is not difficult to
grasp its nature in outline, at any rate, from what has been said.
10
After courage let us speak of temperance; for these
seem to be the virtues of the irrational parts. We have said that temperance is
a mean with regard to pleasures (for it is less, and not in the same way,
concerned with pains); self-indulgence also is manifested in the same sphere. Now,
therefore, let us determine with what sort of pleasures they are concerned. We
may assume the distinction between bodily pleasures and those of the soul, such
as love of honour and love of learning; for the lover of each of these delights
in that of which he is a lover, the body being in no way affected, but rather
the mind; but men who are concerned with such pleasures are called neither
temperate nor self-indulgent. Nor, again, are those who are concerned with the
other pleasures that are not bodily; for those who are fond of hearing and
telling stories and who spend their days on anything that turns up are called
gossips, but not self-indulgent, nor are those who are pained at the loss of
money or of friends.
Temperance must be concerned with bodily pleasures,
but not all even of these; for those who delight in objects of vision, such as
colours and shapes and painting, are called neither temperate nor
self-indulgent; yet it would seem possible to delight even in these either as
one should or to excess or to a deficient degree.
And so too is it with objects of hearing; no one calls
those who delight extravagantly in music or acting self-indulgent, nor those
who do so as they ought temperate.
Nor do we apply these names to those who delight in
odour, unless it be incidentally; we do not call those self-indulgent who
delight in the odour of apples or roses or incense, but rather those who
delight in the odour of unguents or of dainty dishes; for self-indulgent people
delight in these because these remind them of the objects of their appetite. And
one may see even other people, when they are hungry, delighting in the smell of
food; but to delight in this kind of thing is the mark of the self-indulgent
man; for these are objects of appetite to him.
Nor is there in animals other than man any pleasure
connected with these senses, except incidentally. For dogs do not delight in
the scent of hares, but in the eating of them, but the scent told them the
hares were there; nor does the lion delight in the lowing of the ox, but in
eating it; but he perceived by the lowing that it was near, and therefore
appears to delight in the lowing; and similarly he does not delight because he
sees 'a stag or a wild goat', but because he is going to make a meal of it. Temperance
and self-indulgence, however, are concerned with the kind of pleasures that the
other animals share in, which therefore appear slavish and brutish; these are
touch and taste. But even of taste they appear to make little or no use; for
the business of taste is the discriminating of flavours, which is done by
winetasters and people who season dishes; but they hardly take pleasure in
making these discriminations, or at least self-indulgent people do not, but in
the actual enjoyment, which in all cases comes through touch, both in the case
of food and in that of drink and in that of sexual intercourse. This is why a
certain gourmand prayed that his throat might become longer than a crane's,
implying that it was the contact that he took pleasure in. Thus the sense with
which self-indulgence is connected is the most widely shared of the senses; and
self-indulgence would seem to be justly a matter of reproach, because it
attaches to us not as men but as animals. To delight in such things, then, and
to love them above all others, is brutish. For even of the pleasures of touch
the most liberal have been eliminated, e.g. those produced in the gymnasium by
rubbing and by the consequent heat; for the contact characteristic of the
self-indulgent man does not affect the whole body but only certain parts.
11
Of the appetites some seem to be common, others to be
peculiar to individuals and acquired; e.g. the appetite for food is natural,
since every one who is without it craves for food or drink, and sometimes for
both, and for love also (as Homer says) if he is young and lusty; but not every
one craves for this or that kind of nourishment or love, nor for the same
things. Hence such craving appears to be our very own. Yet it has of course
something natural about it; for different things are pleasant to different
kinds of people, and some things are more pleasant to every one than chance
objects. Now in the natural appetites few go wrong, and only in one direction,
that of excess; for to eat or drink whatever offers itself till one is surfeited
is to exceed the natural amount, since natural appetite is the replenishment of
one's deficiency. Hence these people are called belly-gods, this implying that
they fill their belly beyond what is right. It is people of entirely slavish
character that become like this. But with regard to the pleasures peculiar to
individuals many people go wrong and in many ways. For while the people who are
'fond of so and so' are so called because they delight either in the wrong
things, or more than most people do, or in the wrong way, the self-indulgent
exceed in all three ways; they both delight in some things that they ought not
to delight in (since they are hateful), and if one ought to delight in some of
the things they delight in, they do so more than one ought and than most men
do.
Plainly, then, excess with regard to pleasures is
self-indulgence and is culpable; with regard to pains one is not, as in the
case of courage, called temperate for facing them or self-indulgent for not
doing so, but the selfindulgent man is so called because he is pained more than
he ought at not getting pleasant things (even his pain being caused by
pleasure), and the temperate man is so called because he is not pained at the
absence of what is pleasant and at his abstinence from it.
The self-indulgent man, then, craves for all pleasant
things or those that are most pleasant, and is led by his appetite to choose
these at the cost of everything else; hence he is pained both when he fails to
get them and when he is merely craving for them (for appetite involves pain);
but it seems absurd to be pained for the sake of pleasure. People who fall
short with regard to pleasures and delight in them less than they should are
hardly found; for such insensibility is not human. Even the other animals
distinguish different kinds of food and enjoy some and not others; and if there
is any one who finds nothing pleasant and nothing more attractive than anything
else, he must be something quite different from a man; this sort of person has
not received a name because he hardly occurs. The temperate man occupies a
middle position with regard to these objects. For he neither enjoys the things
that the self-indulgent man enjoys most-but rather dislikes them-nor in general
the things that he should not, nor anything of this sort to excess, nor does he
feel pain or craving when they are absent, or does so only to a moderate
degree, and not more than he should, nor when he should not, and so on; but the
things that, being pleasant, make for health or for good condition, he will
desire moderately and as he should, and also other pleasant things if they are
not hindrances to these ends, or contrary to what is noble, or beyond his
means. For he who neglects these conditions loves such pleasures more than they
are worth, but the temperate man is not that sort of person, but the sort of
person that the right rule prescribes.
12
Self-indulgence is more like a voluntary state than
cowardice. For the former is actuated by pleasure, the latter by pain, of which
the one is to be chosen and the other to be avoided; and pain upsets and
destroys the nature of the person who feels it, while pleasure does nothing of
the sort. Therefore self-indulgence is more voluntary. Hence also it is more a
matter of reproach; for it is easier to become accustomed to its objects, since
there are many things of this sort in life, and the process of habituation to
them is free from danger, while with terrible objects the reverse is the case. But
cowardice would seem to be voluntary in a different degree from its particular
manifestations; for it is itself painless, but in these we are upset by pain,
so that we even throw down our arms and disgrace ourselves in other ways; hence
our acts are even thought to be done under compulsion. For the self-indulgent
man, on the other hand, the particular acts are voluntary (for he does them
with craving and desire), but the whole state is less so; for no one craves to
be self-indulgent.
The name self-indulgence is applied also to childish
faults; for they bear a certain resemblance to what we have been considering. Which
is called after which, makes no difference to our present purpose; plainly,
however, the later is called after the earlier. The transference of the name
seems not a bad one; for that which desires what is base and which develops
quickly ought to be kept in a chastened condition, and these characteristics
belong above all to appetite and to the child, since children in fact live at
the beck and call of appetite, and it is in them that the desire for what is
pleasant is strongest. If, then, it is not going to be obedient and subject to
the ruling principle, it will go to great lengths; for in an irrational being
the desire for pleasure is insatiable even if it tries every source of
gratification, and the exercise of appetite increases its innate force, and if
appetites are strong and violent they even expel the power of calculation. Hence
they should be moderate and few, and should in no way oppose the rational
principle-and this is what we call an obedient and chastened state-and as the
child should live according to the direction of his tutor, so the appetitive
element should live according to rational principle. Hence the appetitive
element in a temperate man should harmonize with the rational principle; for
the noble is the mark at which both aim, and the temperate man craves for the
things be ought, as he ought, as when he ought; and when he ought; and this is
what rational principle directs.
Here we conclude our account of temperance.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK IV
1
Let us speak next of liberality. It seems to be the
mean with regard to wealth; for the liberal man is praised not in respect of
military matters, nor of those in respect of which the temrate man is praised,
nor of judicial decisions, but with regard to the giving and taking of wealth,
and especially in respect of giving. Now by 'wealth' we mean all the things
whose value is measured by money. Further, prodigality and meanness are
excesses and defects with regard to wealth; and meanness we always impute to
those who care more than they ought for wealth, but we sometimes apply the word
'prodigality' in a complex sense; for we call those men prodigals who are
incontinent and spend money on self-indulgence. Hence also they are thought the
poorest characters; for they combine more vices than one. Therefore the
application of the word to them is not its proper use; for a 'prodigal' means a
man who has a single evil quality, that of wasting his substance; since a
prodigal is one who is being ruined by his own fault, and the wasting of
substance is thought to be a sort of ruining of oneself, life being held to
depend on possession of substance.
This, then, is the sense in which we take the word
'prodigality'. Now the things that have a use may be used either well or badly;
and riches is a useful thing; and everything is used best by the man who has
the virtue concerned with it; riches, therefore, will be used best by the man
who has the virtue concerned with wealth; and this is the liberal man. Now
spending and giving seem to be the using of wealth; taking and keeping rather
the possession of it. Hence it is more the mark of the liberal man to give to
the right people than to take from the right sources and not to take from the
wrong. For it is more characteristic of virtue to do good than to have good
done to one, and more characteristic to do what is noble than not to do what is
base; and it is not hard to see that giving implies doing good and doing what
is noble, and taking implies having good done to one or not acting basely. And
gratitude is felt towards him who gives, not towards him who does not take, and
praise also is bestowed more on him. It is easier, also, not to take than to
give; for men are apter to give away their own too little than to take what is
another's. Givers, too, are called liberal; but those who do not take are not
praised for liberality but rather for justice; while those who take are hardly
praised at all. And the liberal are almost the most loved of all virtuous
characters, since they are useful; and this depends on their giving.
Now virtuous actions are noble and done for the sake
of the noble. Therefore the liberal man, like other virtuous men, will give for
the sake of the noble, and rightly; for he will give to the right people, the
right amounts, and at the right time, with all the other qualifications that
accompany right giving; and that too with pleasure or without pain; for that
which is virtuous is pleasant or free from pain-least of all will it be
painful. But he who gives to the wrong people or not for the sake of the noble
but for some other cause, will be called not liberal but by some other name. Nor
is he liberal who gives with pain; for he would prefer the wealth to the noble
act, and this is not characteristic of a liberal man. But no more will the
liberal man take from wrong sources; for such taking is not characteristic of
the man who sets no store by wealth. Nor will he be a ready asker; for it is
not characteristic of a man who confers benefits to accept them lightly. But he
will take from the right sources, e.g. from his own possessions, not as
something noble but as a necessity, that he may have something to give. Nor
will he neglect his own property, since he wishes by means of this to help
others. And he will refrain from giving to anybody and everybody, that he may
have something to give to the right people, at the right time, and where it is
noble to do so. It is highly characteristic of a liberal man also to go to
excess in giving, so that he leaves too little for himself; for it is the
nature of a liberal man not to look to himself. The term 'liberality' is used
relatively to a man's substance; for liberality resides not in the multitude of
the gifts but in the state of character of the giver, and this is relative to
the giver's substance. There is therefore nothing to prevent the man who gives
less from being the more liberal man, if he has less to give those are thought
to be more liberal who have not made their wealth but inherited it; for in the
first place they have no experience of want, and secondly all men are fonder of
their own productions, as are parents and poets. It is not easy for the liberal
man to be rich, since he is not apt either at taking or at keeping, but at
giving away, and does not value wealth for its own sake but as a means to
giving. Hence comes the charge that is brought against fortune, that those who
deserve riches most get it least. But it is not unreasonable that it should
turn out so; for he cannot have wealth, any more than anything else, if he does
not take pains to have it. Yet he will not give to the wrong people nor at the
wrong time, and so on; for he would no longer be acting in accordance with
liberality, and if he spent on these objects he would have nothing to spend on
the right objects. For, as has been said, he is liberal who spends according to
his substance and on the right objects; and he who exceeds is prodigal. Hence
we do not call despots prodigal; for it is thought not easy for them to give
and spend beyond the amount of their possessions. Liberality, then, being a
mean with regard to giving and taking of wealth, the liberal man will both give
and spend the right amounts and on the right objects, alike in small things and
in great, and that with pleasure; he will also take the right amounts and from
the right sources. For, the virtue being a mean with regard to both, he will do
both as he ought; since this sort of taking accompanies proper giving, and that
which is not of this sort is contrary to it, and accordingly the giving and
taking that accompany each other are present together in the same man, while
the contrary kinds evidently are not. But if he happens to spend in a manner
contrary to what is right and noble, he will be pained, but moderately and as
he ought; for it is the mark of virtue both to be pleased and to be pained at
the right objects and in the right way. Further, the liberal man is easy to
deal with in money matters; for he can be got the better of, since he sets no
store by money, and is more annoyed if he has not spent something that he ought
than pained if he has spent something that he ought not, and does not agree
with the saying of Simonides.
The prodigal errs in these respects also; for he is
neither pleased nor pained at the right things or in the right way; this will
be more evident as we go on. We have said that prodigality and meanness are
excesses and deficiencies, and in two things, in giving and in taking; for we include
spending under giving. Now prodigality exceeds in giving and not taking, while
meanness falls short in giving, and exceeds in taking, except in small things.
The characteristics of prodigality are not often
combined; for it is not easy to give to all if you take from none; private
persons soon exhaust their substance with giving, and it is to these that the
name of prodigals is applied- though a man of this sort would seem to be in no
small degree better than a mean man. For he is easily cured both by age and by
poverty, and thus he may move towards the middle state. For he has the
characteristics of the liberal man, since he both gives and refrains from
taking, though he does neither of these in the right manner or well. Therefore
if he were brought to do so by habituation or in some other way, he would be
liberal; for he will then give to the right people, and will not take from the
wrong sources. This is why he is thought to have not a bad character; it is not
the mark of a wicked or ignoble man to go to excess in giving and not taking,
but only of a foolish one. The man who is prodigal in this way is thought much
better than the mean man both for the aforesaid reasons and because he benefits
many while the other benefits no one, not even himself.
But most prodigal people, as has been said, also take
from the wrong sources, and are in this respect mean. They become apt to take
because they wish to spend and cannot do this easily; for their possessions
soon run short. Thus they are forced to provide means from some other source. At
the same time, because they care nothing for honour, they take recklessly and
from any source; for they have an appetite for giving, and they do not mind how
or from what source. Hence also their giving is not liberal; for it is not
noble, nor does it aim at nobility, nor is it done in the right way; sometimes
they make rich those who should be poor, and will give nothing to people of
respectable character, and much to flatterers or those who provide them with
some other pleasure. Hence also most of them are self-indulgent; for they spend
lightly and waste money on their indulgences, and incline towards pleasures
because they do not live with a view to what is noble.
The prodigal man, then, turns into what we have
described if he is left untutored, but if he is treated with care he will
arrive at the intermediate and right state. But meanness is both incurable (for
old age and every disability is thought to make men mean) and more innate in
men than prodigality; for most men are fonder of getting money than of giving. It
also extends widely, and is multiform, since there seem to be many kinds of
meanness.
For it consists in two things, deficiency in giving
and excess in taking, and is not found complete in all men but is sometimes
divided; some men go to excess in taking, others fall short in giving. Those
who are called by such names as 'miserly', 'close', 'stingy', all fall short in
giving, but do not covet the possessions of others nor wish to get them. In
some this is due to a sort of honesty and avoidance of what is disgraceful (for
some seem, or at least profess, to hoard their money for this reason, that they
may not some day be forced to do something disgraceful; to this class belong
the cheeseparer and every one of the sort; he is so called from his excess of
unwillingness to give anything); while others again keep their hands off the
property of others from fear, on the ground that it is not easy, if one takes
the property of others oneself, to avoid having one's own taken by them; they
are therefore content neither to take nor to give.
Others again exceed in respect of taking by taking
anything and from any source, e.g. those who ply sordid trades, pimps and all
such people, and those who lend small sums and at high rates. For all of these
take more than they ought and from wrong sources. What is common to them is
evidently sordid love of gain; they all put up with a bad name for the sake of
gain, and little gain at that. For those who make great gains but from wrong sources,
and not the right gains, e.g. despots when they sack cities and spoil temples,
we do not call mean but rather wicked, impious, and unjust. But the gamester
and the footpad (and the highwayman) belong to the class of the mean, since
they have a sordid love of gain. For it is for gain that both of them ply their
craft and endure the disgrace of it, and the one faces the greatest dangers for
the sake of the booty, while the other makes gain from his friends, to whom he
ought to be giving. Both, then, since they are willing to make gain from wrong
sources, are sordid lovers of gain; therefore all such forms of taking are
mean.
And it is natural that meanness is described as the
contrary of liberality; for not only is it a greater evil than prodigality, but
men err more often in this direction than in the way of prodigality as we have
described it.
So much, then, for liberality and the opposed vices.
2
It would seem proper to discuss magnificence next. For
this also seems to be a virtue concerned with wealth; but it does not like
liberality extend to all the actions that are concerned with wealth, but only
to those that involve expenditure; and in these it surpasses liberality in
scale. For, as the name itself suggests, it is a fitting expenditure involving
largeness of scale. But the scale is relative; for the expense of equipping a
trireme is not the same as that of heading a sacred embassy. It is what is
fitting, then, in relation to the agent, and to the circumstances and the
object. The man who in small or middling things spends according to the merits
of the case is not called magnificent (e.g. the man who can say 'many a gift I
gave the wanderer'), but only the man who does so in great things. For the
magnificent man is liberal, but the liberal man is not necessarily magnificent.
The deficiency of this state of character is called niggardliness, the excess
vulgarity, lack of taste, and the like, which do not go to excess in the amount
spent on right objects, but by showy expenditure in the wrong circumstances and
the wrong manner; we shall speak of these vices later.
The magnificent man is like an artist; for he can see
what is fitting and spend large sums tastefully. For, as we said at the
begining, a state of character is determined by its activities and by its
objects. Now the expenses of the magnificent man are large and fitting. Such,
therefore, are also his results; for thus there will be a great expenditure and
one that is fitting to its result. Therefore the result should be worthy of the
expense, and the expense should be worthy of the result, or should even exceed
it. And the magnificent man will spend such sums for honour's sake; for this is
common to the virtues. And further he will do so gladly and lavishly; for nice
calculation is a niggardly thing. And he will consider how the result can be
made most beautiful and most becoming rather than for how much it can be
produced and how it can be produced most cheaply. It is necessary, then, that
the magnificent man be also liberal. For the liberal man also will spend what
he ought and as he ought; and it is in these matters that the greatness implied
in the name of the magnificent man-his bigness, as it were-is manifested, since
liberality is concerned with these matters; and at an equal expense he will
produce a more magnificent work of art. For a possession and a work of art have
not the same excellence. The most valuable possession is that which is worth
most, e.g. gold, but the most valuable work of art is that which is great and
beautiful (for the contemplation of such a work inspires admiration, and so
does magnificence); and a work has an excellence-viz. magnificence-which
involves magnitude. Magnificence is an attribute of expenditures of the kind
which we call honourable, e.g. those connected with the gods-votive offerings,
buildings, and sacrifices-and similarly with any form of religious worship, and
all those that are proper objects of public-spirited ambition, as when people
think they ought to equip a chorus or a trireme, or entertain the city, in a
brilliant way. But in all cases, as has been said, we have regard to the agent
as well and ask who he is and what means he has; for the expenditure should be
worthy of his means, and suit not only the result but also the producer. Hence
a poor man cannot be magnificent, since he has not the means with which to
spend large sums fittingly; and he who tries is a fool, since he spends beyond
what can be expected of him and what is proper, but it is right expenditure
that is virtuous. But great expenditure is becoming to those who have suitable
means to start with, acquired by their own efforts or from ancestors or
connexions, and to people of high birth or reputation, and so on; for all these
things bring with them greatness and prestige. Primarily, then, the magnificent
man is of this sort, and magnificence is shown in expenditures of this sort, as
has been said; for these are the greatest and most honourable. Of private
occasions of expenditure the most suitable are those that take place once for all,
e.g. a wedding or anything of the kind, or anything that interests the whole
city or the people of position in it, and also the receiving of foreign guests
and the sending of them on their way, and gifts and counter-gifts; for the
magnificent man spends not on himself but on public objects, and gifts bear
some resemblance to votive offerings. A magnificent man will also furnish his
house suitably to his wealth (for even a house is a sort of public ornament),
and will spend by preference on those works that are lasting (for these are the
most beautiful), and on every class of things he will spend what is becoming;
for the same things are not suitable for gods and for men, nor in a temple and
in a tomb. And since each expenditure may be great of its kind, and what is
most magnificent absolutely is great expenditure on a great object, but what is
magnificent here is what is great in these circumstances, and greatness in the
work differs from greatness in the expense (for the most beautiful ball or
bottle is magnificent as a gift to a child, but the price of it is small and
mean),-therefore it is characteristic of the magnificent man, whatever kind of
result he is producing, to produce it magnificently (for such a result is not
easily surpassed) and to make it worthy of the expenditure.
Such, then, is the magnificent man; the man who goes
to excess and is vulgar exceeds, as has been said, by spending beyond what is
right. For on small objects of expenditure he spends much and displays a
tasteless showiness; e.g. he gives a club dinner on the scale of a wedding
banquet, and when he provides the chorus for a comedy he brings them on to the
stage in purple, as they do at Megara. And all such things he will do not for
honour's sake but to show off his wealth, and because he thinks he is admired
for these things, and where he ought to spend much he spends little and where
little, much. The niggardly man on the other hand will fall short in
everything, and after spending the greatest sums will spoil the beauty of the result
for a trifle, and whatever he is doing he will hesitate and consider how he may
spend least, and lament even that, and think he is doing everything on a bigger
scale than he ought.
These states of character, then, are vices; yet they
do not bring disgrace because they are neither harmful to one's neighbour nor
very unseemly.
3
Pride seems even from its name to be concerned with
great things; what sort of great things, is the first question we must try to
answer. It makes no difference whether we consider the state of character or
the man characterized by it. Now the man is thought to be proud who thinks
himself worthy of great things, being worthy of them; for he who does so beyond
his deserts is a fool, but no virtuous man is foolish or silly. The proud man,
then, is the man we have described. For he who is worthy of little and thinks
himself worthy of little is temperate, but not proud; for pride implies
greatness, as beauty implies a goodsized body, and little people may be neat
and well-proportioned but cannot be beautiful. On the other hand, he who thinks
himself worthy of great things, being unworthy of them, is vain; though not
every one who thinks himself worthy of more than he really is worthy of in
vain. The man who thinks himself worthy of worthy of less than he is really
worthy of is unduly humble, whether his deserts be great or moderate, or his
deserts be small but his claims yet smaller. And the man whose deserts are
great would seem most unduly humble; for what would he have done if they had
been less? The proud man, then, is an extreme in respect of the greatness of
his claims, but a mean in respect of the rightness of them; for he claims what
is accordance with his merits, while the others go to excess or fall short.
If, then, he deserves and claims great things, and
above all the great things, he will be concerned with one thing in particular. Desert
is relative to external goods; and the greatest of these, we should say, is
that which we render to the gods, and which people of position most aim at, and
which is the prize appointed for the noblest deeds; and this is honour; that is
surely the greatest of external goods. Honours and dishonours, therefore, are
the objects with respect to which the proud man is as he should be. And even apart
from argument it is with honour that proud men appear to be concerned; for it
is honour that they chiefly claim, but in accordance with their deserts. The
unduly humble man falls short both in comparison with his own merits and in
comparison with the proud man's claims. The vain man goes to excess in
comparison with his own merits, but does not exceed the proud man's claims.
Now the proud man, since he deserves most, must be
good in the highest degree; for the better man always deserves more, and the best
man most. Therefore the truly proud man must be good. And greatness in every
virtue would seem to be characteristic of a proud man. And it would be most
unbecoming for a proud man to fly from danger, swinging his arms by his sides,
or to wrong another; for to what end should he do disgraceful acts, he to whom
nothing is great? If we consider him point by point we shall see the utter
absurdity of a proud man who is not good. Nor, again, would he be worthy of
honour if he were bad; for honour is the prize of virtue, and it is to the good
that it is rendered. Pride, then, seems to be a sort of crown of the virtues;
for it makes them greater, and it is not found without them. Therefore it is
hard to be truly proud; for it is impossible without nobility and goodness of
character. It is chiefly with honours and dishonours, then, that the proud man
is concerned; and at honours that are great and conferred by good men he will
be moderately Pleased, thinking that he is coming by his own or even less than
his own; for there can be no honour that is worthy of perfect virtue, yet he
will at any rate accept it since they have nothing greater to bestow on him;
but honour from casual people and on trifling grounds he will utterly despise,
since it is not this that he deserves, and dishonour too, since in his case it
cannot be just. In the first place, then, as has been said, the proud man is
concerned with honours; yet he will also bear himself with moderation towards
wealth and power and all good or evil fortune, whatever may befall him, and
will be neither over-joyed by good fortune nor over-pained by evil. For not
even towards honour does he bear himself as if it were a very great thing. Power
and wealth are desirable for the sake of honour (at least those who have them
wish to get honour by means of them); and for him to whom even honour is a
little thing the others must be so too. Hence proud men are thought to be
disdainful.
The goods of fortune also are thought to contribute
towards pride. For men who are well-born are thought worthy of honour, and so
are those who enjoy power or wealth; for they are in a superior position, and
everything that has a superiority in something good is held in greater honour. Hence
even such things make men prouder; for they are honoured by some for having
them; but in truth the good man alone is to be honoured; he, however, who has
both advantages is thought the more worthy of honour. But those who without
virtue have such goods are neither justified in making great claims nor
entitled to the name of 'proud'; for these things imply perfect virtue. Disdainful
and insolent, however, even those who have such goods become. For without
virtue it is not easy to bear gracefully the goods of fortune; and, being
unable to bear them, and thinking themselves superior to others, they despise
others and themselves do what they please. They imitate the proud man without
being like him, and this they do where they can; so they do not act virtuously,
but they do despise others. For the proud man despises justly (since he thinks
truly), but the many do so at random.
He does not run into trifling dangers, nor is he fond
of danger, because he honours few things; but he will face great dangers, and
when he is in danger he is unsparing of his life, knowing that there are
conditions on which life is not worth having. And he is the sort of man to
confer benefits, but he is ashamed of receiving them; for the one is the mark
of a superior, the other of an inferior. And he is apt to confer greater
benefits in return; for thus the original benefactor besides being paid will
incur a debt to him, and will be the gainer by the transaction. They seem also
to remember any service they have done, but not those they have received (for
he who receives a service is inferior to him who has done it, but the proud man
wishes to be superior), and to hear of the former with pleasure, of the latter
with displeasure; this, it seems, is why Thetis did not mention to Zeus the
services she had done him, and why the Spartans did not recount their services
to the Athenians, but those they had received. It is a mark of the proud man
also to ask for nothing or scarcely anything, but to give help readily, and to
be dignified towards people who enjoy high position and good fortune, but
unassuming towards those of the middle class; for it is a difficult and lofty
thing to be superior to the former, but easy to be so to the latter, and a
lofty bearing over the former is no mark of ill-breeding, but among humble
people it is as vulgar as a display of strength against the weak. Again, it is
characteristic of the proud man not to aim at the things commonly held in
honour, or the things in which others excel; to be sluggish and to hold back
except where great honour or a great work is at stake, and to be a man of few
deeds, but of great and notable ones. He must also be open in his hate and in
his love (for to conceal one's feelings, i.e. to care less for truth than for
what people will think, is a coward's part), and must speak and act openly; for
he is free of speech because he is contemptuous, and he is given to telling the
truth, except when he speaks in irony to the vulgar. He must be unable to make
his life revolve round another, unless it be a friend; for this is slavish, and
for this reason all flatterers are servile and people lacking in self-respect
are flatterers. Nor is he given to admiration; for nothing to him is great. Nor
is he mindful of wrongs; for it is not the part of a proud man to have a long
memory, especially for wrongs, but rather to overlook them. Nor is he a gossip;
for he will speak neither about himself nor about another, since he cares not
to be praised nor for others to be blamed; nor again is he given to praise; and
for the same reason he is not an evil-speaker, even about his enemies, except
from haughtiness. With regard to necessary or small matters he is least of all
me given to lamentation or the asking of favours; for it is the part of one who
takes such matters seriously to behave so with respect to them. He is one who
will possess beautiful and profitless things rather than profitable and useful
ones; for this is more proper to a character that suffices to itself.
Further, a slow step is thought proper to the proud
man, a deep voice, and a level utterance; for the man who takes few things
seriously is not likely to be hurried, nor the man who thinks nothing great to
be excited, while a shrill voice and a rapid gait are the results of hurry and
excitement.
Such, then, is the proud man; the man who falls short
of him is unduly humble, and the man who goes beyond him is vain. Now even
these are not thought to be bad (for they are not malicious), but only
mistaken. For the unduly humble man, being worthy of good things, robs himself
of what he deserves, and to have something bad about him from the fact that he
does not think himself worthy of good things, and seems also not to know
himself; else he would have desired the things he was worthy of, since these
were good. Yet such people are not thought to be fools, but rather unduly
retiring. Such a reputation, however, seems actually to make them worse; for
each class of people aims at what corresponds to its worth, and these people
stand back even from noble actions and undertakings, deeming themselves
unworthy, and from external goods no less. Vain people, on the other hand, are
fools and ignorant of themselves, and that manifestly; for, not being worthy of
them, they attempt honourable undertakings, and then are found out; and
tetadorn themselves with clothing and outward show and such things, and wish
their strokes of good fortune to be made public, and speak about them as if
they would be honoured for them. But undue humility is more opposed to pride
than vanity is; for it is both commoner and worse.
Pride, then, is concerned with honour on the grand
scale, as has been said.
4
There seems to be in the sphere of honour also, as was
said in our first remarks on the subject, a virtue which would appear to be
related to pride as liberality is to magnificence. For neither of these has
anything to do with the grand scale, but both dispose us as is right with
regard to middling and unimportant objects; as in getting and giving of wealth
there is a mean and an excess and defect, so too honour may be desired more
than is right, or less, or from the right sources and in the right way. We
blame both the ambitious man as am at honour more than is right and from wrong
sources, and the unambitious man as not willing to be honoured even for noble
reasons. But sometimes we praise the ambitious man as being manly and a lover
of what is noble, and the unambitious man as being moderate and
self-controlled, as we said in our first treatment of the subject. Evidently,
since 'fond of such and such an object' has more than one meaning, we do not assign
the term 'ambition' or 'love of honour' always to the same thing, but when we
praise the quality we think of the man who loves honour more than most people,
and when we blame it we think of him who loves it more than is right. The mean
being without a name, the extremes seem to dispute for its place as though that
were vacant by default. But where there is excess and defect, there is also an
intermediate; now men desire honour both more than they should and less;
therefore it is possible also to do so as one should; at all events this is the
state of character that is praised, being an unnamed mean in respect of honour.
Relatively to ambition it seems to be unambitiousness, and relatively to
unambitiousness it seems to be ambition, while relatively to both severally it
seems in a sense to be both together. This appears to be true of the other
virtues also. But in this case the extremes seem to be contradictories because
the mean has not received a name.
5
Good temper is a mean with respect to anger; the
middle state being unnamed, and the extremes almost without a name as well, we
place good temper in the middle position, though it inclines towards the
deficiency, which is without a name. The excess might called a sort of
'irascibility'. For the passion is anger, while its causes are many and
diverse.
The man who is angry at the right things and with the
right people, and, further, as he ought, when he ought, and as long as he
ought, is praised. This will be the good-tempered man, then, since good temper
is praised. For the good-tempered man tends to be unperturbed and not to be led
by passion, but to be angry in the manner, at the things, and for the length of
time, that the rule dictates; but he is thought to err rather in the direction
of deficiency; for the good-tempered man is not revengeful, but rather tends to
make allowances.
The deficiency, whether it is a sort of
'inirascibility' or whatever it is, is blamed. For those who are not angry at
the things they should be angry at are thought to be fools, and so are those
who are not angry in the right way, at the right time, or with the right
persons; for such a man is thought not to feel things nor to be pained by them,
and, since he does not get angry, he is thought unlikely to defend himself; and
to endure being insulted and put up with insult to one's friends is slavish.
The excess can be manifested in all the points that
have been named (for one can be angry with the wrong persons, at the wrong
things, more than is right, too quickly, or too long); yet all are not found in
the same person. Indeed they could not; for evil destroys even itself, and if
it is complete becomes unbearable. Now hot-tempered people get angry quickly
and with the wrong persons and at the wrong things and more than is right, but
their anger ceases quickly-which is the best point about them. This happens to
them because they do not restrain their anger but retaliate openly owing to
their quickness of temper, and then their anger ceases. By reason of excess
choleric people are quick-tempered and ready to be angry with everything and on
every occasion; whence their name. Sulky people are hard to appease, and retain
their anger long; for they repress their passion. But it ceases when they
retaliate; for revenge relieves them of their anger, producing in them pleasure
instead of pain. If this does not happen they retain their burden; for owing to
its not being obvious no one even reasons with them, and to digest one's anger
in oneself takes time. Such people are most troublesome to themselves and to
their dearest friends. We call had-tempered those who are angry at the wrong
things, more than is right, and longer, and cannot be appeased until they
inflict vengeance or punishment.
To good temper we oppose the excess rather than the defect;
for not only is it commoner since revenge is the more human), but bad-tempered
people are worse to live with.
What we have said in our earlier treatment of the
subject is plain also from what we are now saying; viz. that it is not easy to
define how, with whom, at what, and how long one should be angry, and at what
point right action ceases and wrong begins. For the man who strays a little
from the path, either towards the more or towards the less, is not blamed;
since sometimes we praise those who exhibit the deficiency, and call them
good-tempered, and sometimes we call angry people manly, as being capable of
ruling. How far, therefore, and how a man must stray before he becomes
blameworthy, it is not easy to state in words; for the decision depends on the
particular facts and on perception. But so much at least is plain, that the
middle state is praiseworthy- that in virtue of which we are angry with the
right people, at the right things, in the right way, and so on, while the
excesses and defects are blameworthy- slightly so if they are present in a low
degree, more if in a higher degree, and very much if in a high degree. Evidently,
then, we must cling to the middle state.- Enough of the states relative to
anger.
6
In gatherings of men, in social life and the
interchange of words and deeds, some men are thought to be obsequious, viz.
those who to give pleasure praise everything and never oppose, but think it
their duty 'to give no pain to the people they meet'; while those who, on the
contrary, oppose everything and care not a whit about giving pain are called
churlish and contentious. That the states we have named are culpable is plain
enough, and that the middle state is laudable- that in virtue of which a man
will put up with, and will resent, the right things and in the right way; but
no name has been assigned to it, though it most resembles friendship. For the
man who corresponds to this middle state is very much what, with affection
added, we call a good friend. But the state in question differs from friendship
in that it implies no passion or affection for one's associates; since it is
not by reason of loving or hating that such a man takes everything in the right
way, but by being a man of a certain kind. For he will behave so alike towards
those he knows and those he does not know, towards intimates and those who are
not so, except that in each of these cases he will behave as is befitting; for
it is not proper to have the same care for intimates and for strangers, nor
again is it the same conditions that make it right to give pain to them. Now we
have said generally that he will associate with people in the right way; but it
is by reference to what is honourable and expedient that he will aim at not
giving pain or at contributing pleasure. For he seems to be concerned with the
pleasures and pains of social life; and wherever it is not honourable, or is
harmful, for him to contribute pleasure, he will refuse, and will choose rather
to give pain; also if his acquiescence in another's action would bring
disgrace, and that in a high degree, or injury, on that other, while his
opposition brings a little pain, he will not acquiesce but will decline. He
will associate differently with people in high station and with ordinary
people, with closer and more distant acquaintances, and so too with regard to
all other differences, rendering to each class what is befitting, and while for
its own sake he chooses to contribute pleasure, and avoids the giving of pain,
he will be guided by the consequences, if these are greater, i.e. honour and
expediency. For the sake of a great future pleasure, too, he will inflict small
pains.
The man who attains the mean, then, is such as we have
described, but has not received a name; of those who contribute pleasure, the
man who aims at being pleasant with no ulterior object is obsequious, but the
man who does so in order that he may get some advantage in the direction of
money or the things that money buys is a flatterer; while the man who quarrels
with everything is, as has been said, churlish and contentious. And the
extremes seem to be contradictory to each other because the mean is without a
name.
7
The mean opposed to boastfulness is found in almost
the same sphere; and this also is without a name. It will be no bad plan to
describe these states as well; for we shall both know the facts about character
better if we go through them in detail, and we shall be convinced that the
virtues are means if we see this to be so in all cases. In the field of social
life those who make the giving of pleasure or pain their object in associating
with others have been described; let us now describe those who pursue truth or
falsehood alike in words and deeds and in the claims they put forward. The
boastful man, then, is thought to be apt to claim the things that bring glory,
when he has not got them, or to claim more of them than he has, and the
mock-modest man on the other hand to disclaim what he has or belittle it, while
the man who observes the mean is one who calls a thing by its own name, being
truthful both in life and in word, owning to what he has, and neither more nor
less. Now each of these courses may be adopted either with or without an
object. But each man speaks and acts and lives in accordance with his
character, if he is not acting for some ulterior object. And falsehood is in
itself mean and culpable, and truth noble and worthy of praise. Thus the
truthful man is another case of a man who, being in the mean, is worthy of
praise, and both forms of untruthful man are culpable, and particularly the
boastful man.
Let us discuss them both, but first of all the
truthful man. We are not speaking of the man who keeps faith in his agreements,
i.e. in the things that pertain to justice or injustice (for this would belong
to another virtue), but the man who in the matters in which nothing of this
sort is at stake is true both in word and in life because his character is
such. But such a man would seem to be as a matter of fact equitable. For the
man who loves truth, and is truthful where nothing is at stake, will still more
be truthful where something is at stake; he will avoid falsehood as something
base, seeing that he avoided it even for its own sake; and such a man is worthy
of praise. He inclines rather to understate the truth; for this seems in better
taste because exaggerations are wearisome.
He who claims more than he has with no ulterior object
is a contemptible sort of fellow (otherwise he would not have delighted in
falsehood), but seems futile rather than bad; but if he does it for an object,
he who does it for the sake of reputation or honour is (for a boaster) not very
much to be blamed, but he who does it for money, or the things that lead to
money, is an uglier character (it is not the capacity that makes the boaster, but
the purpose; for it is in virtue of his state of character and by being a man
of a certain kind that he is boaster); as one man is a liar because he enjoys
the lie itself, and another because he desires reputation or gain. Now those
who boast for the sake of reputation claim such qualities as will praise or
congratulation, but those whose object is gain claim qualities which are of
value to one's neighbours and one's lack of which is not easily detected, e.g.
the powers of a seer, a sage, or a physician. For this reason it is such things
as these that most people claim and boast about; for in them the
above-mentioned qualities are found.
Mock-modest people, who understate things, seem more
attractive in character; for they are thought to speak not for gain but to
avoid parade; and here too it is qualities which bring reputation that they
disclaim, as Socrates used to do. Those who disclaim trifling and obvious
qualities are called humbugs and are more contemptible; and sometimes this
seems to be boastfulness, like the Spartan dress; for both excess and great
deficiency are boastful. But those who use understatement with moderation and
understate about matters that do not very much force themselves on our notice
seem attractive. And it is the boaster that seems to be opposed to the truthful
man; for he is the worse character.
8
Since life includes rest as well as activity, and in
this is included leisure and amusement, there seems here also to be a kind of
intercourse which is tasteful; there is such a thing as saying- and again
listening to- what one should and as one should. The kind of people one is
speaking or listening to will also make a difference. Evidently here also there
is both an excess and a deficiency as compared with the mean. Those who carry humour
to excess are thought to be vulgar buffoons, striving after humour at all
costs, and aiming rather at raising a laugh than at saying what is becoming and
at avoiding pain to the object of their fun; while those who can neither make a
joke themselves nor put up with those who do are thought to be boorish and
unpolished. But those who joke in a tasteful way are called ready-witted, which
implies a sort of readiness to turn this way and that; for such sallies are
thought to be movements of the character, and as bodies are discriminated by
their movements, so too are characters. The ridiculous side of things is not
far to seek, however, and most people delight more than they should in
amusement and in jestinly. and so even buffoons are called ready-witted because
they are found attractive; but that they differ from the ready-witted man, and
to no small extent, is clear from what has been said.
To the middle state belongs also tact; it is the mark
of a tactful man to say and listen to such things as befit a good and well-bred
man; for there are some things that it befits such a man to say and to hear by
way of jest, and the well-bred man's jesting differs from that of a vulgar man,
and the joking of an educated man from that of an uneducated. One may see this
even from the old and the new comedies; to the authors of the former indecency
of language was amusing, to those of the latter innuendo is more so; and these
differ in no small degree in respect of propriety. Now should we define the man
who jokes well by his saying what is not unbecoming to a well-bred man, or by
his not giving pain, or even giving delight, to the hearer? Or is the latter
definition, at any rate, itself indefinite, since different things are hateful
or pleasant to different people? The kind of jokes he will listen to will be
the same; for the kind he can put up with are also the kind he seems to make. There
are, then, jokes he will not make; for the jest is a sort of abuse, and there
are things that lawgivers forbid us to abuse; and they should, perhaps, have
forbidden us even to make a jest of such. The refined and well-bred man,
therefore, will be as we have described, being as it were a law to himself.
Such, then, is the man who observes the mean, whether
he be called tactful or ready-witted. The buffoon, on the other hand, is the
slave of his sense of humour, and spares neither himself nor others if he can
raise a laugh, and says things none of which a man of refinement would say, and
to some of which he would not even listen. The boor, again, is useless for such
social intercourse; for he contributes nothing and finds fault with everything.
But relaxation and amusement are thought to be a necessary element in life.
The means in life that have been described, then, are
three in number, and are all concerned with an interchange of words and deeds
of some kind. They differ, however, in that one is concerned with truth; and
the other two with pleasantness. Of those concerned with pleasure, one is
displayed in jests, the other in the general social intercourse of life.
9
Shame should not be described as a virtue; for it is
more like a feeling than a state of character. It is defined, at any rate, as a
kind of fear of dishonour, and produces an effect similar to that produced by
fear of danger; for people who feel disgraced blush, and those who fear death
turn pale. Both, therefore, seem to be in a sense bodily conditions, which is
thought to be characteristic of feeling rather than of a state of character.
The feeling is not becoming to every age, but only to
youth. For we think young people should be prone to the feeling of shame
because they live by feeling and therefore commit many errors, but are
restrained by shame; and we praise young people who are prone to this feeling,
but an older person no one would praise for being prone to the sense of
disgrace, since we think he should not do anything that need cause this sense. For
the sense of disgrace is not even characteristic of a good man, since it is
consequent on bad actions (for such actions should not be done; and if some
actions are disgraceful in very truth and others only according to common
opinion, this makes no difference; for neither class of actions should be done,
so that no disgrace should be felt); and it is a mark of a bad man even to be
such as to do any disgraceful action. To be so constituted as to feel disgraced
if one does such an action, and for this reason to think oneself good, is
absurd; for it is for voluntary actions that shame is felt, and the good man
will never voluntarily do bad actions. But shame may be said to be
conditionally a good thing; if a good man does such actions, he will feel
disgraced; but the virtues are not subject to such a qualification. And if
shamelessness-not to be ashamed of doing base actions-is bad, that does not
make it good to be ashamed of doing such actions. Continence too is not virtue,
but a mixed sort of state; this will be shown later. Now, however, let us
discuss justice.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK V
1
With regards to justice and injustice we must (1)
consider what kind of actions they are concerned with, (2) what sort of mean
justice is, and (3) between what extremes the just act is intermediate. Our
investigation shall follow the same course as the preceding discussions.
We see that all men mean by justice that kind of state
of character which makes people disposed to do what is just and makes them act
justly and wish for what is just; and similarly by injustice that state which
makes them act unjustly and wish for what is unjust. Let us too, then, lay this
down as a general basis. For the same is not true of the sciences and the
faculties as of states of character. A faculty or a science which is one and
the same is held to relate to contrary objects, but a state of character which
is one of two contraries does not produce the contrary results; e.g. as a
result of health we do not do what is the opposite of healthy, but only what is
healthy; for we say a man walks healthily, when he walks as a healthy man
would.
Now often one contrary state is recognized from its
contrary, and often states are recognized from the subjects that exhibit them;
for (A) if good condition is known, bad condition also becomes known, and (B)
good condition is known from the things that are in good condition, and they
from it. If good condition is firmness of flesh, it is necessary both that bad
condition should be flabbiness of flesh and that the wholesome should be that
which causes firmness in flesh. And it follows for the most part that if one
contrary is ambiguous the other also will be ambiguous; e.g. if 'just' is so,
that 'unjust' will be so too.
Now 'justice' and 'injustice' seem to be ambiguous,
but because their different meanings approach near to one another the ambiguity
escapes notice and is not obvious as it is, comparatively, when the meanings
are far apart, e.g. (for here the difference in outward form is great) as the
ambiguity in the use of kleis for the collar-bone of an animal and for that with
which we lock a door. Let us take as a starting-point, then, the various
meanings of 'an unjust man'. Both the lawless man and the grasping and unfair
man are thought to be unjust, so that evidently both the law-abiding and the
fair man will be just. The just, then, is the lawful and the fair, the unjust
the unlawful and the unfair.
Since the unjust man is grasping, he must be concerned
with goods-not all goods, but those with which prosperity and adversity have to
do, which taken absolutely are always good, but for a particular person are not
always good. Now men pray for and pursue these things; but they should not, but
should pray that the things that are good absolutely may also be good for them,
and should choose the things that are good for them. The unjust man does not
always choose the greater, but also the less-in the case of things bad
absolutely; but because the lesser evil is itself thought to be in a sense
good, and graspingness is directed at the good, therefore he is thought to be
grasping. And he is unfair; for this contains and is common to both.
Since the lawless man was seen to be unjust and the
law-abiding man just, evidently all lawful acts are in a sense just acts; for
the acts laid down by the legislative art are lawful, and each of these, we
say, is just. Now the laws in their enactments on all subjects aim at the
common advantage either of all or of the best or of those who hold power, or
something of the sort; so that in one sense we call those acts just that tend
to produce and preserve happiness and its components for the political society.
And the law bids us do both the acts of a brave man (e.g. not to desert our
post nor take to flight nor throw away our arms), and those of a temperate man
(e.g. not to commit adultery nor to gratify one's lust), and those of a
good-tempered man (e.g. not to strike another nor to speak evil), and similarly
with regard to the other virtues and forms of wickedness, commanding some acts
and forbidding others; and the rightly-framed law does this rightly, and the
hastily conceived one less well. This form of justice, then, is complete
virtue, but not absolutely, but in relation to our neighbour. And therefore
justice is often thought to be the greatest of virtues, and 'neither evening
nor morning star' is so wonderful; and proverbially 'in justice is every virtue
comprehended'. And it is complete virtue in its fullest sense, because it is
the actual exercise of complete virtue. It is complete because he who possesses
it can exercise his virtue not only in himself but towards his neighbour also;
for many men can exercise virtue in their own affairs, but not in their
relations to their neighbour. This is why the saying of Bias is thought to be
true, that 'rule will show the man'; for a ruler is necessarily in relation to
other men and a member of a society. For this same reason justice, alone of the
virtues, is thought to be 'another's good', because it is related to our
neighbour; for it does what is advantageous to another, either a ruler or a
copartner. Now the worst man is he who exercises his wickedness both towards
himself and towards his friends, and the best man is not he who exercises his
virtue towards himself but he who exercises it towards another; for this is a
difficult task. Justice in this sense, then, is not part of virtue but virtue
entire, nor is the contrary injustice a part of vice but vice entire. What the
difference is between virtue and justice in this sense is plain from what we
have said; they are the same but their essence is not the same; what, as a
relation to one's neighbour, is justice is, as a certain kind of state without
qualification, virtue.
2
But at all events what we are investigating is the
justice which is a part of virtue; for there is a justice of this kind, as we
maintain. Similarly it is with injustice in the particular sense that we are
concerned.
That there is such a thing is indicated by the fact
that while the man who exhibits in action the other forms of wickedness acts
wrongly indeed, but not graspingly (e.g. the man who throws away his shield
through cowardice or speaks harshly through bad temper or fails to help a
friend with money through meanness), when a man acts graspingly he often
exhibits none of these vices,-no, nor all together, but certainly wickedness of
some kind (for we blame him) and injustice. There is, then, another kind of
injustice which is a part of injustice in the wide sense, and a use of the word
'unjust' which answers to a part of what is unjust in the wide sense of
'contrary to the law'. Again if one man commits adultery for the sake of gain
and makes money by it, while another does so at the bidding of appetite though
he loses money and is penalized for it, the latter would be held to be
self-indulgent rather than grasping, but the former is unjust, but not
self-indulgent; evidently, therefore, he is unjust by reason of his making gain
by his act. Again, all other unjust acts are ascribed invariably to some
particular kind of wickedness, e.g. adultery to self-indulgence, the desertion
of a comrade in battle to cowardice, physical violence to anger; but if a man
makes gain, his action is ascribed to no form of wickedness but injustice. Evidently,
therefore, there is apart from injustice in the wide sense another,
'particular', injustice which shares the name and nature of the first, because
its definition falls within the same genus; for the significance of both
consists in a relation to one's neighbour, but the one is concerned with honour
or money or safety-or that which includes all these, if we had a single name
for it-and its motive is the pleasure that arises from gain; while the other is
concerned with all the objects with which the good man is concerned.
It is clear, then, that there is more than one kind of
justice, and that there is one which is distinct from virtue entire; we must
try to grasp its genus and differentia.
The unjust has been divided into the unlawful and the
unfair, and the just into the lawful and the fair. To the unlawful answers the
afore-mentioned sense of injustice. But since unfair and the unlawful are not
the same, but are different as a part is from its whole (for all that is unfair
is unlawful, but not all that is unlawful is unfair), the unjust and injustice
in the sense of the unfair are not the same as but different from the former
kind, as part from whole; for injustice in this sense is a part of injustice in
the wide sense, and similarly justice in the one sense of justice in the other.
Therefore we must speak also about particular justice and particular and
similarly about the just and the unjust. The justice, then, which answers to
the whole of virtue, and the corresponding injustice, one being the exercise of
virtue as a whole, and the other that of vice as a whole, towards one's
neighbour, we may leave on one side. And how the meanings of 'just' and
'unjust' which answer to these are to be distinguished is evident; for
practically the majority of the acts commanded by the law are those which are
prescribed from the point of view of virtue taken as a whole; for the law bids
us practise every virtue and forbids us to practise any vice. And the things
that tend to produce virtue taken as a whole are those of the acts prescribed
by the law which have been prescribed with a view to education for the common
good. But with regard to the education of the individual as such, which makes
him without qualification a good man, we must determine later whether this is
the function of the political art or of another; for perhaps it is not the same
to be a good man and a good citizen of any state taken at random.
Of particular justice and that which is just in the
corresponding sense, (A) one kind is that which is manifested in distributions
of honour or money or the other things that fall to be divided among those who
have a share in the constitution (for in these it is possible for one man to
have a share either unequal or equal to that of another), and (B) one is that
which plays a rectifying part in transactions between man and man. Of this
there are two divisions; of transactions (1) some are voluntary and (2) others
involuntary- voluntary such transactions as sale, purchase, loan for
consumption, pledging, loan for use, depositing, letting (they are called
voluntary because the origin of these transactions is voluntary), while of the
involuntary (a) some are clandestine, such as theft, adultery, poisoning,
procuring, enticement of slaves, assassination, false witness, and (b) others
are violent, such as assault, imprisonment, murder, robbery with violence, mutilation,
abuse, insult.
3
(A) We have shown that both the unjust man and the
unjust act are unfair or unequal; now it is clear that there is also an
intermediate between the two unequals involved in either case. And this is the
equal; for in any kind of action in which there's a more and a less there is
also what is equal. If, then, the unjust is unequal, just is equal, as all men
suppose it to be, even apart from argument. And since the equal is
intermediate, the just will be an intermediate. Now equality implies at least
two things. The just, then, must be both intermediate and equal and relative
(i.e. for certain persons). And since the equall intermediate it must be
between certain things (which are respectively greater and less); equal, it
involves two things; qua just, it is for certain people. The just, therefore,
involves at least four terms; for the persons for whom it is in fact just are
two, and the things in which it is manifested, the objects distributed, are
two. And the same equality will exist between the persons and between the
things concerned; for as the latter the things concerned-are related, so are
the former; if they are not equal, they will not have what is equal, but this
is the origin of quarrels and complaints-when either equals have and are
awarded unequal shares, or unequals equal shares. Further, this is plain from
the fact that awards should be 'according to merit'; for all men agree that
what is just in distribution must be according to merit in some sense, though
they do not all specify the same sort of merit, but democrats identify it with
the status of freeman, supporters of oligarchy with wealth (or with noble
birth), and supporters of aristocracy with excellence.
The just, then, is a species of the proportionate
(proportion being not a property only of the kind of number which consists of
abstract units, but of number in general). For proportion is equality of
ratios, and involves four terms at least (that discrete proportion involves
four terms is plain, but so does continuous proportion, for it uses one term as
two and mentions it twice; e.g. 'as the line A is to the line B, so is the line
B to the line C'; the line B, then, has been mentioned twice, so that if the
line B be assumed twice, the proportional terms will be four); and the just,
too, involves at least four terms, and the ratio between one pair is the same
as that between the other pair; for there is a similar distinction between the
persons and between the things. As the term A, then, is to B, so will C be to
D, and therefore, alternando, as A is to C, B will be to D. Therefore also the
whole is in the same ratio to the whole; and this coupling the distribution
effects, and, if the terms are so combined, effects justly. The conjunction,
then, of the term A with C and of B with D is what is just in distribution, and
this species of the just is intermediate, and the unjust is what violates the
proportion; for the proportional is intermediate, and the just is proportional.
(Mathematicians call this kind of proportion geometrical; for it is in
geometrical proportion that it follows that the whole is to the whole as either
part is to the corresponding part.) This proportion is not continuous; for we
cannot get a single term standing for a person and a thing.
This, then, is what the just is-the proportional; the
unjust is what violates the proportion. Hence one term becomes too great, the
other too small, as indeed happens in practice; for the man who acts unjustly
has too much, and the man who is unjustly treated too little, of what is good. In
the case of evil the reverse is true; for the lesser evil is reckoned a good in
comparison with the greater evil, since the lesser evil is rather to be chosen
than the greater, and what is worthy of choice is good, and what is worthier of
choice a greater good.
This, then, is one species of the just. 4
(B) The remaining one is the rectificatory, which
arises in connexion with transactions both voluntary and involuntary. This form
of the just has a different specific character from the former. For the justice
which distributes common possessions is always in accordance with the kind of
proportion mentioned above (for in the case also in which the distribution is
made from the common funds of a partnership it will be according to the same
ratio which the funds put into the business by the partners bear to one
another); and the injustice opposed to this kind of justice is that which
violates the proportion. But the justice in transactions between man and man is
a sort of equality indeed, and the injustice a sort of inequality; not
according to that kind of proportion, however, but according to arithmetical
proportion. For it makes no difference whether a good man has defrauded a bad
man or a bad man a good one, nor whether it is a good or a bad man that has
committed adultery; the law looks only to the distinctive character of the
injury, and treats the parties as equal, if one is in the wrong and the other
is being wronged, and if one inflicted injury and the other has received it. Therefore,
this kind of injustice being an inequality, the judge tries to equalize it; for
in the case also in which one has received and the other has inflicted a wound,
or one has slain and the other been slain, the suffering and the action have
been unequally distributed; but the judge tries to equalize by means of the
penalty, taking away from the gain of the assailant. For the term 'gain' is
applied generally to such cases, even if it be not a term appropriate to
certain cases, e.g. to the person who inflicts a woundand 'loss' to the
sufferer; at all events when the suffering has been estimated, the one is
called loss and the other gain. Therefore the equal is intermediate between the
greater and the less, but the gain and the loss are respectively greater and
less in contrary ways; more of the good and less of the evil are gain, and the
contrary is loss; intermediate between them is, as we saw, equal, which we say
is just; therefore corrective justice will be the intermediate between loss and
gain. This is why, when people dispute, they take refuge in the judge; and to
go to the judge is to go to justice; for the nature of the judge is to be a
sort of animate justice; and they seek the judge as an intermediate, and in
some states they call judges mediators, on the assumption that if they get what
is intermediate they will get what is just. The just, then, is an intermediate,
since the judge is so. Now the judge restores equality; it is as though there
were a line divided into unequal parts, and he took away that by which the
greater segment exceeds the half, and added it to the smaller segment. And when
the whole has been equally divided, then they say they have 'their own'-i.e.
when they have got what is equal. The equal is intermediate between the greater
and the lesser line according to arithmetical proportion. It is for this reason
also that it is called just (sikaion), because it is a division into two equal
parts (sicha), just as if one were to call it sichaion; and the judge
(sikastes) is one who bisects (sichastes). For when something is subtracted
from one of two equals and added to the other, the other is in excess by these
two; since if what was taken from the one had not been added to the other, the
latter would have been in excess by one only. It therefore exceeds the
intermediate by one, and the intermediate exceeds by one that from which
something was taken. By this, then, we shall recognize both what we must
subtract from that which has more, and what we must add to that which has less;
we must add to the latter that by which the intermediate exceeds it, and
subtract from the greatest that by which it exceeds the intermediate. Let the
lines AA', BB', CC' be equal to one another; from the line AA' let the segment
AE have been subtracted, and to the line CC' let the segment Cd have been
added, so that the whole line DCC' exceeds the line EA' by the segment CD and
the segment CF; therefore it exceeds the line Bb' by the segment CD. (See
diagram.)
These names, both loss and gain, have come from
voluntary exchange; for to have more than one's own is called gaining, and to
have less than one's original share is called losing, e.g. in buying and
selling and in all other matters in which the law has left people free to make
their own terms; but when they get neither more nor less but just what belongs
to themselves, they say that they have their own and that they neither lose nor
gain.
Therefore the just is intermediate between a sort of
gain and a sort of loss, viz. those which are involuntary; it consists in
having an equal amount before and after the transaction.
5
Some think that reciprocity is without qualification
just, as the Pythagoreans said; for they defined justice without qualification
as reciprocity. Now 'reciprocity' fits neither distributive nor rectificatory
justice-yet people want even the justice of Rhadamanthus to mean this:
Should a man suffer what he did, right justice would
be done -for in many cases reciprocity and rectificatory justice are not in
accord; e.g. (1) if an official has inflicted a wound, he should not be wounded
in return, and if some one has wounded an official, he ought not to be wounded
only but punished in addition. Further (2) there is a great difference between
a voluntary and an involuntary act. But in associations for exchange this sort
of justice does hold men together-reciprocity in accordance with a proportion
and not on the basis of precisely equal return. For it is by proportionate
requital that the city holds together. Men seek to return either evil for
evil-and if they cana not do so, think their position mere slavery-or good for
good-and if they cannot do so there is no exchange, but it is by exchange that
they hold together. This is why they give a prominent place to the temple of
the Graces-to promote the requital of services; for this is characteristic of
grace-we should serve in return one who has shown grace to us, and should
another time take the initiative in showing it.
Now proportionate return is secured by
cross-conjunction. Let A be a builder, B a shoemaker, C a house, D a shoe. The
builder, then, must get from the shoemaker the latter's work, and must himself
give him in return his own. If, then, first there is proportionate equality of
goods, and then reciprocal action takes place, the result we mention will be
effected. If not, the bargain is not equal, and does not hold; for there is
nothing to prevent the work of the one being better than that of the other;
they must therefore be equated. (And this is true of the other arts also; for
they would have been destroyed if what the patient suffered had not been just
what the agent did, and of the same amount and kind.) For it is not two doctors
that associate for exchange, but a doctor and a farmer, or in general people
who are different and unequal; but these must be equated. This is why all
things that are exchanged must be somehow comparable. It is for this end that
money has been introduced, and it becomes in a sense an intermediate; for it
measures all things, and therefore the excess and the defect-how many shoes are
equal to a house or to a given amount of food. The number of shoes exchanged
for a house (or for a given amount of food) must therefore correspond to the
ratio of builder to shoemaker. For if this be not so, there will be no exchange
and no intercourse. And this proportion will not be effected unless the goods
are somehow equal. All goods must therefore be measured by some one thing, as
we said before. Now this unit is in truth demand, which holds all things
together (for if men did not need one another's goods at all, or did not need
them equally, there would be either no exchange or not the same exchange); but
money has become by convention a sort of representative of demand; and this is
why it has the name 'money' (nomisma)-because it exists not by nature but by
law (nomos) and it is in our power to change it and make it useless. There
will, then, be reciprocity when the terms have been equated so that as farmer
is to shoemaker, the amount of the shoemaker's work is to that of the farmer's
work for which it exchanges. But we must not bring them into a figure of
proportion when they have already exchanged (otherwise one extreme will have
both excesses), but when they still have their own goods. Thus they are equals
and associates just because this equality can be effected in their case. Let A
be a farmer, C food, B a shoemaker, D his product equated to C. If it had not
been possible for reciprocity to be thus effected, there would have been no
association of the parties. That demand holds things together as a single unit
is shown by the fact that when men do not need one another, i.e. when neither
needs the other or one does not need the other, they do not exchange, as we do
when some one wants what one has oneself, e.g. when people permit the
exportation of corn in exchange for wine. This equation therefore must be
established. And for the future exchange-that if we do not need a thing now we
shall have it if ever we do need it-money is as it were our surety; for it must
be possible for us to get what we want by bringing the money. Now the same
thing happens to money itself as to goods-it is not always worth the same; yet
it tends to be steadier. This is why all goods must have a price set on them;
for then there will always be exchange, and if so, association of man with man.
Money, then, acting as a measure, makes goods commensurate and equates them;
for neither would there have been association if there were not exchange, nor
exchange if there were not equality, nor equality if there were not
commensurability. Now in truth it is impossible that things differing so much
should become commensurate, but with reference to demand they may become so
sufficiently. There must, then, be a unit, and that fixed by agreement (for
which reason it is called money); for it is this that makes all things
commensurate, since all things are measured by money. Let A be a house, B ten
minae, C a bed. A is half of B, if the house is worth five minae or equal to
them; the bed, C, is a tenth of B; it is plain, then, how many beds are equal
to a house, viz. five. That exchange took place thus before there was money is
plain; for it makes no difference whether it is five beds that exchange for a
house, or the money value of five beds.
We have now defined the unjust and the just. These
having been marked off from each other, it is plain that just action is
intermediate between acting unjustly and being unjustly treated; for the one is
to have too much and the other to have too little. Justice is a kind of mean,
but not in the same way as the other virtues, but because it relates to an
intermediate amount, while injustice relates to the extremes. And justice is
that in virtue of which the just man is said to be a doer, by choice, of that
which is just, and one who will distribute either between himself and another
or between two others not so as to give more of what is desirable to himself
and less to his neighbour (and conversely with what is harmful), but so as to
give what is equal in accordance with proportion; and similarly in distributing
between two other persons. Injustice on the other hand is similarly related to
the unjust, which is excess and defect, contrary to proportion, of the useful
or hurtful. For which reason injustice is excess and defect, viz. because it is
productive of excess and defect-in one's own case excess of what is in its own
nature useful and defect of what is hurtful, while in the case of others it is
as a whole like what it is in one's own case, but proportion may be violated in
either direction. In the unjust act to have too little is to be unjustly
treated; to have too much is to act unjustly.
Let this be taken as our account of the nature of
justice and injustice, and similarly of the just and the unjust in general.
6
Since acting unjustly does not necessarily imply being
unjust, we must ask what sort of unjust acts imply that the doer is unjust with
respect to each type of injustice, e.g. a thief, an adulterer, or a brigand. Surely
the answer does not turn on the difference between these types. For a man might
even lie with a woman knowing who she was, but the origin of his might be not
deliberate choice but passion. He acts unjustly, then, but is not unjust; e.g.
a man is not a thief, yet he stole, nor an adulterer, yet he committed adultery;
and similarly in all other cases.
Now we have previously stated how the reciprocal is
related to the just; but we must not forget that what we are looking for is not
only what is just without qualification but also political justice. This is
found among men who share their life with a view to selfsufficiency, men who
are free and either proportionately or arithmetically equal, so that between
those who do not fulfil this condition there is no political justice but
justice in a special sense and by analogy. For justice exists only between men
whose mutual relations are governed by law; and law exists for men between whom
there is injustice; for legal justice is the discrimination of the just and the
unjust. And between men between whom there is injustice there is also unjust
action (though there is not injustice between all between whom there is unjust
action), and this is assigning too much to oneself of things good in themselves
and too little of things evil in themselves. This is why we do not allow a man
to rule, but rational principle, because a man behaves thus in his own
interests and becomes a tyrant. The magistrate on the other hand is the
guardian of justice, and, if of justice, then of equality also. And since he is
assumed to have no more than his share, if he is just (for he does not assign
to himself more of what is good in itself, unless such a share is proportional
to his merits-so that it is for others that he labours, and it is for this
reason that men, as we stated previously, say that justice is 'another's
good'), therefore a reward must be given him, and this is honour and privilege;
but those for whom such things are not enough become tyrants.
The justice of a master and that of a father are not
the same as the justice of citizens, though they are like it; for there can be
no injustice in the unqualified sense towards thing that are one's own, but a
man's chattel, and his child until it reaches a certain age and sets up for
itself, are as it were part of himself, and no one chooses to hurt himself (for
which reason there can be no injustice towards oneself). Therefore the justice
or injustice of citizens is not manifested in these relations; for it was as we
saw according to law, and between people naturally subject to law, and these as
we saw' are people who have an equal share in ruling and being ruled. Hence
justice can more truly be manifested towards a wife than towards children and
chattels, for the former is household justice; but even this is different from
political justice.
7
Of political justice part is natural, part legal,
natural, that which everywhere has the same force and does not exist by
people's thinking this or that; legal, that which is originally indifferent,
but when it has been laid down is not indifferent, e.g. that a prisoner's
ransom shall be a mina, or that a goat and not two sheep shall be sacrificed,
and again all the laws that are passed for particular cases, e.g. that
sacrifice shall be made in honour of Brasidas, and the provisions of decrees. Now
some think that all justice is of this sort, because that which is by nature is
unchangeable and has everywhere the same force (as fire burns both here and in
Persia), while they see change in the things recognized as just. This, however,
is not true in this unqualified way, but is true in a sense; or rather, with
the gods it is perhaps not true at all, while with us there is something that
is just even by nature, yet all of it is changeable; but still some is by
nature, some not by nature. It is evident which sort of thing, among things
capable of being otherwise, is by nature, and which is not but is legal and
conventional, assuming that both are equally changeable. And in all other
things the same distinction will apply; by nature the right hand is stronger,
yet it is possible that all men should come to be ambidextrous. The things
which are just by virtue of convention and expediency are like measures; for
wine and corn measures are not everywhere equal, but larger in wholesale and
smaller in retail markets. Similarly, the things which are just not by nature
but by human enactment are not everywhere the same, since constitutions also
are not the same, though there is but one which is everywhere by nature the
best. Of things just and lawful each is related as the universal to its
particulars; for the things that are done are many, but of them each is one,
since it is universal.
There is a difference between the act of injustice and
what is unjust, and between the act of justice and what is just; for a thing is
unjust by nature or by enactment; and this very thing, when it has been done,
is an act of injustice, but before it is done is not yet that but is unjust. So,
too, with an act of justice (though the general term is rather 'just action',
and 'act of justice' is applied to the correction of the act of injustice).
Each of these must later be examined separately with
regard to the nature and number of its species and the nature of the things
with which it is concerned.
8
Acts just and unjust being as we have described them,
a man acts unjustly or justly whenever he does such acts voluntarily; when
involuntarily, he acts neither unjustly nor justly except in an incidental way;
for he does things which happen to be just or unjust. Whether an act is or is
not one of injustice (or of justice) is determined by its voluntariness or
involuntariness; for when it is voluntary it is blamed, and at the same time is
then an act of injustice; so that there will be things that are unjust but not
yet acts of injustice, if voluntariness be not present as well. By the
voluntary I mean, as has been said before, any of the things in a man's own
power which he does with knowledge, i.e. not in ignorance either of the person
acted on or of the instrument used or of the end that will be attained (e.g.
whom he is striking, with what, and to what end), each such act being done not
incidentally nor under compulsion (e.g. if A takes B's hand and therewith
strikes C, B does not act voluntarily; for the act was not in his own power). The
person struck may be the striker's father, and the striker may know that it is
a man or one of the persons present, but not know that it is his father; a
similar distinction may be made in the case of the end, and with regard to the
whole action. Therefore that which is done in ignorance, or though not done in
ignorance is not in the agent's power, or is done under compulsion, is
involuntary (for many natural processes, even, we knowingly both perform and
experience, none of which is either voluntary or involuntary; e.g. growing old
or dying). But in the case of unjust and just acts alike the injustice or
justice may be only incidental; for a man might return a deposit unwillingly
and from fear, and then he must not be said either to do what is just or to act
justly, except in an incidental way. Similarly the man who under compulsion and
unwillingly fails to return the deposit must be said to act unjustly, and to do
what is unjust, only incidentally. Of voluntary acts we do some by choice,
others not by choice; by choice those which we do after deliberation, not by
choice those which we do without previous deliberation. Thus there are three
kinds of injury in transactions between man and man; those done in ignorance
are mistakes when the person acted on, the act, the instrument, or the end that
will be attained is other than the agent supposed; the agent thought either
that he was not hiting any one or that he was not hitting with this missile or
not hitting this person or to this end, but a result followed other than that
which he thought likely (e.g. he threw not with intent to wound but only to
prick), or the person hit or the missile was other than he supposed. Now when
(1) the injury takes place contrary to reasonable expectation, it is a
misadventure. When (2) it is not contrary to reasonable expectation, but does
not imply vice, it is a mistake (for a man makes a mistake when the fault
originates in him, but is the victim of accident when the origin lies outside
him). When (3) he acts with knowledge but not after deliberation, it is an act
of injustice-e.g. the acts due to anger or to other passions necessary or
natural to man; for when men do such harmful and mistaken acts they act
unjustly, and the acts are acts of injustice, but this does not imply that the doers
are unjust or wicked; for the injury is not due to vice. But when (4) a man
acts from choice, he is an unjust man and a vicious man.
Hence acts proceeding from anger are rightly judged
not to be done of malice aforethought; for it is not the man who acts in anger
but he who enraged him that starts the mischief. Again, the matter in dispute
is not whether the thing happened or not, but its justice; for it is apparent
injustice that occasions rage. For they do not dispute about the occurrence of
the act-as in commercial transactions where one of the two parties must be
vicious-unless they do so owing to forgetfulness; but, agreeing about the fact,
they dispute on which side justice lies (whereas a man who has deliberately
injured another cannot help knowing that he has done so), so that the one
thinks he is being treated unjustly and the other disagrees.
But if a man harms another by choice, he acts
unjustly; and these are the acts of injustice which imply that the doer is an
unjust man, provided that the act violates proportion or equality. Similarly, a
man is just when he acts justly by choice; but he acts justly if he merely acts
voluntarily.
Of involuntary acts some are excusable, others not. For
the mistakes which men make not only in ignorance but also from ignorance are
excusable, while those which men do not from ignorance but (though they do them
in ignorance) owing to a passion which is neither natural nor such as man is
liable to, are not excusable.
9
Assuming that we have sufficiently defined the
suffering and doing of injustice, it may be asked (1) whether the truth in
expressed in Euripides' paradoxical words:
I slew my mother, that's my tale in brief. Were you both willing, or unwilling both?
Is it truly possible to be willingly treated unjustly,
or is all suffering of injustice the contrary involuntary, as all unjust action
is voluntary? And is all suffering of injustice of the latter kind or else all
of the former, or is it sometimes voluntary, sometimes involuntary? So, too,
with the case of being justly treated; all just action is voluntary, so that it
is reasonable that there should be a similar opposition in either case-that
both being unjustly and being justly treated should be either alike voluntary
or alike involuntary. But it would be thought paradoxical even in the case of
being justly treated, if it were always voluntary; for some are unwillingly
treated justly. (2) One might raise this question also, whether every one who
has suffered what is unjust is being unjustly treated, or on the other hand it
is with suffering as with acting. In action and in passivity alike it is
possible to partake of justice incidentally, and similarly (it is plain) of
injustice; for to do what is unjust is not the same as to act unjustly, nor to
suffer what is unjust as to be treated unjustly, and similarly in the case of
acting justly and being justly treated; for it is impossible to be unjustly
treated if the other does not act unjustly, or justly treated unless he acts
justly. Now if to act unjustly is simply to harm some one voluntarily, and
'voluntarily' means 'knowing the person acted on, the instrument, and the
manner of one's acting', and the incontinent man voluntarily harms himself, not
only will he voluntarily be unjustly treated but it will be possible to treat
oneself unjustly. (This also is one of the questions in doubt, whether a man
can treat himself unjustly.) Again, a man may voluntarily, owing to
incontinence, be harmed by another who acts voluntarily, so that it would be
possible to be voluntarily treated unjustly. Or is our definition incorrect;
must we to 'harming another, with knowledge both of the person acted on, of the
instrument, and of the manner' add 'contrary to the wish of the person acted
on'? Then a man may be voluntarily harmed and voluntarily suffer what is
unjust, but no one is voluntarily treated unjustly; for no one wishes to be
unjustly treated, not even the incontinent man. He acts contrary to his wish;
for no one wishes for what he does not think to be good, but the incontinent
man does do things that he does not think he ought to do. Again, one who gives
what is his own, as Homer says Glaucus gave Diomede
Armour of gold for brazen, the price of a hundred
beeves for nine, is not unjustly treated; for though to give is in his power,
to be unjustly treated is not, but there must be some one to treat him
unjustly. It is plain, then, that being unjustly treated is not voluntary.
Of the questions we intended to discuss two still
remain for discussion; (3) whether it is the man who has assigned to another
more than his share that acts unjustly, or he who has the excessive share, and
(4) whether it is possible to treat oneself unjustly. The questions are
connected; for if the former alternative is possible and the distributor acts
unjustly and not the man who has the excessive share, then if a man assigns
more to another than to himself, knowingly and voluntarily, he treats himself
unjustly; which is what modest people seem to do, since the virtuous man tends
to take less than his share. Or does this statement too need qualification? For
(a) he perhaps gets more than his share of some other good, e.g. of honour or
of intrinsic nobility. (b) The question is solved by applying the distinction
we applied to unjust action; for he suffers nothing contrary to his own wish,
so that he is not unjustly treated as far as this goes, but at most only
suffers harm.
It is plain too that the distributor acts unjustly,
but not always the man who has the excessive share; for it is not he to whom
what is unjust appertains that acts unjustly, but he to whom it appertains to
do the unjust act voluntarily, i.e. the person in whom lies the origin of the
action, and this lies in the distributor, not in the receiver. Again, since the
word 'do' is ambiguous, and there is a sense in which lifeless things, or a
hand, or a servant who obeys an order, may be said to slay, he who gets an
excessive share does not act unjustly, though he 'does' what is unjust.
Again, if the distributor gave his judgement in
ignorance, he does not act unjustly in respect of legal justice, and his
judgement is not unjust in this sense, but in a sense it is unjust (for legal
justice and primordial justice are different); but if with knowledge he judged
unjustly, he is himself aiming at an excessive share either of gratitude or of
revenge. As much, then, as if he were to share in the plunder, the man who has
judged unjustly for these reasons has got too much; the fact that what he gets
is different from what he distributes makes no difference, for even if he
awards land with a view to sharing in the plunder he gets not land but money.
Men think that acting unjustly is in their power, and
therefore that being just is easy. But it is not; to lie with one's neighbour's
wife, to wound another, to deliver a bribe, is easy and in our power, but to do
these things as a result of a certain state of character is neither easy nor in
our power. Similarly to know what is just and what is unjust requires, men
think, no great wisdom, because it is not hard to understand the matters dealt
with by the laws (though these are not the things that are just, except
incidentally); but how actions must be done and distributions effected in order
to be just, to know this is a greater achievement than knowing what is good for
the health; though even there, while it is easy to know that honey, wine,
hellebore, cautery, and the use of the knife are so, to know how, to whom, and
when these should be applied with a view to producing health, is no less an
achievement than that of being a physician. Again, for this very reason men
think that acting unjustly is characteristic of the just man no less than of
the unjust, because he would be not less but even more capable of doing each of
these unjust acts; for he could lie with a woman or wound a neighbour; and the
brave man could throw away his shield and turn to flight in this direction or
in that. But to play the coward or to act unjustly consists not in doing these
things, except incidentally, but in doing them as the result of a certain state
of character, just as to practise medicine and healing consists not in applying
or not applying the knife, in using or not using medicines, but in doing so in
a certain way.
Just acts occur between people who participate in things
good in themselves and can have too much or too little of them; for some beings
(e.g. presumably the gods) cannot have too much of them, and to others, those
who are incurably bad, not even the smallest share in them is beneficial but
all such goods are harmful, while to others they are beneficial up to a point;
therefore justice is essentially something human.
10 Our next
subject is equity and the equitable (to epiekes), and their respective
relations to justice and the just. For on examination they appear to be neither
absolutely the same nor generically different; and while we sometime praise
what is equitable and the equitable man (so that we apply the name by way of
praise even to instances of the other virtues, instead of 'good' meaning by epieikestebon
that a thing is better), at other times, when we reason it out, it seems
strange if the equitable, being something different from the just, is yet
praiseworthy; for either the just or the equitable is not good, if they are
different; or, if both are good, they are the same.
These, then, are pretty much the considerations that
give rise to the problem about the equitable; they are all in a sense correct
and not opposed to one another; for the equitable, though it is better than one
kind of justice, yet is just, and it is not as being a different class of thing
that it is better than the just. The same thing, then, is just and equitable,
and while both are good the equitable is superior. What creates the problem is
that the equitable is just, but not the legally just but a correction of legal
justice. The reason is that all law is universal but about some things it is
not possible to make a universal statement which shall be correct. In those
cases, then, in which it is necessary to speak universally, but not possible to
do so correctly, the law takes the usual case, though it is not ignorant of the
possibility of error. And it is none the less correct; for the error is in the
law nor in the legislator but in the nature of the thing, since the matter of
practical affairs is of this kind from the start. When the law speaks
universally, then, and a case arises on it which is not covered by the
universal statement, then it is right, where the legislator fails us and has
erred by oversimplicity, to correct the omission-to say what the legislator
himself would have said had he been present, and would have put into his law if
he had known. Hence the equitable is just, and better than one kind of
justice-not better than absolute justice but better than the error that arises
from the absoluteness of the statement. And this is the nature of the
equitable, a correction of law where it is defective owing to its universality.
In fact this is the reason why all things are not determined by law, that about
some things it is impossible to lay down a law, so that a decree is needed. For
when the thing is indefinite the rule also is indefinite, like the leaden rule
used in making the Lesbian moulding; the rule adapts itself to the shape of the
stone and is not rigid, and so too the decree is adapted to the facts.
It is plain, then, what the equitable is, and that it
is just and is better than one kind of justice. It is evident also from this
who the equitable man is; the man who chooses and does such acts, and is no
stickler for his rights in a bad sense but tends to take less than his share
though he has the law oft his side, is equitable, and this state of character
is equity, which is a sort of justice and not a different state of character.
11
Whether a man can treat himself unjustly or not, is
evident from what has been said. For (a) one class of just acts are those acts
in accordance with any virtue which are prescribed by the law; e.g. the law
does not expressly permit suicide, and what it does not expressly permit it
forbids. Again, when a man in violation of the law harms another (otherwise
than in retaliation) voluntarily, he acts unjustly, and a voluntary agent is
one who knows both the person he is affecting by his action and the instrument
he is using; and he who through anger voluntarily stabs himself does this
contrary to the right rule of life, and this the law does not allow; therefore
he is acting unjustly. But towards whom? Surely towards the state, not towards
himself. For he suffers voluntarily, but no one is voluntarily treated
unjustly. This is also the reason why the state punishes; a certain loss of
civil rights attaches to the man who destroys himself, on the ground that he is
treating the state unjustly.
Further (b) in that sense of 'acting unjustly' in
which the man who 'acts unjustly' is unjust only and not bad all round, it is
not possible to treat oneself unjustly (this is different from the former
sense; the unjust man in one sense of the term is wicked in a particularized
way just as the coward is, not in the sense of being wicked all round, so that
his 'unjust act' does not manifest wickedness in general). For (i) that would
imply the possibility of the same thing's having been subtracted from and added
to the same thing at the same time; but this is impossible-the just and the
unjust always involve more than one person. Further, (ii) unjust action is
voluntary and done by choice, and takes the initiative (for the man who because
he has suffered does the same in return is not thought to act unjustly); but if
a man harms himself he suffers and does the same things at the same time. Further,
(iii) if a man could treat himself unjustly, he could be voluntarily treated
unjustly. Besides, (iv) no one acts unjustly without committing particular acts
of injustice; but no one can commit adultery with his own wife or housebreaking
on his own house or theft on his own property,
In general, the question 'can a man treat himself
unjustly?' is solved also by the distinction we applied to the question 'can a
man be voluntarily treated unjustly?'
(It is evident too that both are bad, being unjustly
treated and acting unjustly; for the one means having less and the other having
more than the intermediate amount, which plays the part here that the healthy
does in the medical art, and that good condition does in the art of bodily
training. But still acting unjustly is the worse, for it involves vice and is
blameworthy-involves vice which is either of the complete and unqualified kind
or almost so (we must admit the latter alternative, because not all voluntary
unjust action implies injustice as a state of character), while being unjustly
treated does not involve vice and injustice in oneself. In itself, then, being
unjustly treated is less bad, but there is nothing to prevent its being
incidentally a greater evil. But theory cares nothing for this; it calls
pleurisy a more serious mischief than a stumble; yet the latter may become
incidentally the more serious, if the fall due to it leads to your being taken
prisoner or put to death the enemy.)
Metaphorically and in virtue of a certain resemblance
there is a justice, not indeed between a man and himself, but between certain
parts of him; yet not every kind of justice but that of master and servant or
that of husband and wife. For these are the ratios in which the part of the
soul that has a rational principle stands to the irrational part; and it is
with a view to these parts that people also think a man can be unjust to
himself, viz. because these parts are liable to suffer something contrary to
their respective desires; there is therefore thought to be a mutual justice
between them as between ruler and ruled.
Let this be taken as our account of justice and the
other, i.e. the other moral, virtues.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK VI
1
Since we have previously said that one ought to choose
that which is intermediate, not the excess nor the defect, and that the
intermediate is determined by the dictates of the right rule, let us discuss
the nature of these dictates. In all the states of character we have mentioned,
as in all other matters, there is a mark to which the man who has the rule
looks, and heightens or relaxes his activity accordingly, and there is a
standard which determines the mean states which we say are intermediate between
excess and defect, being in accordance with the right rule. But such a
statement, though true, is by no means clear; for not only here but in all
other pursuits which are objects of knowledge it is indeed true to say that we
must not exert ourselves nor relax our efforts too much nor too little, but to
an intermediate extent and as the right rule dictates; but if a man had only
this knowledge he would be none the wiser e.g. we should not know what sort of
medicines to apply to our body if some one were to say 'all those which the
medical art prescribes, and which agree with the practice of one who possesses
the art'. Hence it is necessary with regard to the states of the soul also not
only that this true statement should be made, but also that it should be
determined what is the right rule and what is the standard that fixes it.
We divided the virtues of the soul and a said that
some are virtues of character and others of intellect. Now we have discussed in
detail the moral virtues; with regard to the others let us express our view as
follows, beginning with some remarks about the soul. We said before that there
are two parts of the soul-that which grasps a rule or rational principle, and
the irrational; let us now draw a similar distinction within the part which
grasps a rational principle. And let it be assumed that there are two parts
which grasp a rational principle-one by which we contemplate the kind of things
whose originative causes are invariable, and one by which we contemplate
variable things; for where objects differ in kind the part of the soul
answering to each of the two is different in kind, since it is in virtue of a
certain likeness and kinship with their objects that they have the knowledge
they have. Let one of these parts be called the scientific and the other the
calculative; for to deliberate and to calculate are the same thing, but no one
deliberates about the invariable. Therefore the calculative is one part of the
faculty which grasps a rational principle. We must, then, learn what is the
best state of each of these two parts; for this is the virtue of each.
2
The virtue of a thing is relative to its proper work. Now
there are three things in the soul which control action and truth-sensation,
reason, desire.
Of these sensation originates no action; this is plain
from the fact that the lower animals have sensation but no share in action.
What affirmation and negation are in thinking, pursuit
and avoidance are in desire; so that since moral virtue is a state of character
concerned with choice, and choice is deliberate desire, therefore both the
reasoning must be true and the desire right, if the choice is to be good, and
the latter must pursue just what the former asserts. Now this kind of intellect
and of truth is practical; of the intellect which is contemplative, not
practical nor productive, the good and the bad state are truth and falsity
respectively (for this is the work of everything intellectual); while of the
part which is practical and intellectual the good state is truth in agreement
with right desire.
The origin of action-its efficient, not its final
cause-is choice, and that of choice is desire and reasoning with a view to an
end. This is why choice cannot exist either without reason and intellect or
without a moral state; for good action and its opposite cannot exist without a
combination of intellect and character. Intellect itself, however, moves
nothing, but only the intellect which aims at an end and is practical; for this
rules the productive intellect, as well, since every one who makes makes for an
end, and that which is made is not an end in the unqualified sense (but only an
end in a particular relation, and the end of a particular operation)-only that which
is done is that; for good action is an end, and desire aims at this. Hence
choice is either desiderative reason or ratiocinative desire, and such an
origin of action is a man. (It is to be noted that nothing that is past is an
object of choice, e.g. no one chooses to have sacked Troy; for no one
deliberates about the past, but about what is future and capable of being
otherwise, while what is past is not capable of not having taken place; hence
Agathon is right in saying
For this alone is lacking even to God, To make undone things thathave once been
done.)
The work of both the intellectual parts, then, is
truth. Therefore the states that are most strictly those in respect of which
each of these parts will reach truth are the virtues of the two parts.
3
Let us begin, then, from the beginning, and discuss
these states once more. Let it be assumed that the states by virtue of which
the soul possesses truth by way of affirmation or denial are five in number,
i.e. art, scientific knowledge, practical wisdom, philosophic wisdom, intuitive
reason; we do not include judgement and opinion because in these we may be
mistaken.
Now what scientific knowledge is, if we are to speak
exactly and not follow mere similarities, is plain from what follows. We all
suppose that what we know is not even capable of being otherwise; of things
capable of being otherwise we do not know, when they have passed outside our
observation, whether they exist or not. Therefore the object of scientific
knowledge is of necessity. Therefore it is eternal; for things that are of
necessity in the unqualified sense are all eternal; and things that are eternal
are ungenerated and imperishable. Again, every science is thought to be capable
of being taught, and its object of being learned. And all teaching starts from
what is already known, as we maintain in the Analytics also; for it proceeds
sometimes through induction and sometimes by syllogism. Now induction is the
starting-point which knowledge even of the universal presupposes, while syllogism
proceeds from universals. There are therefore starting-points from which
syllogism proceeds, which are not reached by syllogism; it is therefore by
induction that they are acquired. Scientific knowledge is, then, a state of
capacity to demonstrate, and has the other limiting characteristics which we
specify in the Analytics, for it is when a man believes in a certain way and
the starting-points are known to him that he has scientific knowledge, since if
they are not better known to him than the conclusion, he will have his
knowledge only incidentally.
Let this, then, be taken as our account of scientific
knowledge.
4
In the variable are included both things made and
things done; making and acting are different (for their nature we treat even
the discussions outside our school as reliable); so that the reasoned state of
capacity to act is different from the reasoned state of capacity to make. Hence
too they are not included one in the other; for neither is acting making nor is
making acting. Now since architecture is an art and is essentially a reasoned
state of capacity to make, and there is neither any art that is not such a
state nor any such state that is not an art, art is identical with a state of
capacity to make, involving a true course of reasoning. All art is concerned
with coming into being, i.e. with contriving and considering how something may
come into being which is capable of either being or not being, and whose origin
is in the maker and not in the thing made; for art is concerned neither with
things that are, or come into being, by necessity, nor with things that do so
in accordance with nature (since these have their origin in themselves). Making
and acting being different, art must be a matter of making, not of acting. And
in a sense chance and art are concerned with the same objects; as Agathon says,
'art loves chance and chance loves art'. Art, then, as has been is a state
concerned with making, involving a true course of reasoning, and lack of art on
the contrary is a state concerned with making, involving a false course of
reasoning; both are concerned with the variable.
5
Regarding practical wisdom we shall get at the truth
by considering who are the persons we credit with it. Now it is thought to be
the mark of a man of practical wisdom to be able to deliberate well about what
is good and expedient for himself, not in some particular respect, e.g. about
what sorts of thing conduce to health or to strength, but about what sorts of
thing conduce to the good life in general. This is shown by the fact that we
credit men with practical wisdom in some particular respect when they have
calculated well with a view to some good end which is one of those that are not
the object of any art. It follows that in the general sense also the man who is
capable of deliberating has practical wisdom. Now no one deliberates about
things that are invariable, nor about things that it is impossible for him to
do. Therefore, since scientific knowledge involves demonstration, but there is
no demonstration of things whose first principles are variable (for all such
things might actually be otherwise), and since it is impossible to deliberate
about things that are of necessity, practical wisdom cannot be scientific
knowledge nor art; not science because that which can be done is capable of
being otherwise, not art because action and making are different kinds of
thing. The remaining alternative, then, is that it is a true and reasoned state
of capacity to act with regard to the things that are good or bad for man. For
while making has an end other than itself, action cannot; for good action
itself is its end. It is for this reason that we think Pericles and men like
him have practical wisdom, viz. because they can see what is good for
themselves and what is good for men in general; we consider that those can do
this who are good at managing households or states. (This is why we call
temperance (sophrosune) by this name; we imply that it preserves one's
practical wisdom (sozousa tan phronsin). Now what it preserves is a judgement
of the kind we have described. For it is not any and every judgement that
pleasant and painful objects destroy and pervert, e.g. the judgement that the
triangle has or has not its angles equal to two right angles, but only
judgements about what is to be done. For the originating causes of the things
that are done consist in the end at which they are aimed; but the man who has
been ruined by pleasure or pain forthwith fails to see any such originating
cause-to see that for the sake of this or because of this he ought to choose
and do whatever he chooses and does; for vice is destructive of the originating
cause of action.) Practical wisdom, then, must be a reasoned and true state of
capacity to act with regard to human goods. But further, while there is such a
thing as excellence in art, there is no such thing as excellence in practical
wisdom; and in art he who errs willingly is preferable, but in practical
wisdom, as in the virtues, he is the reverse. Plainly, then, practical wisdom
is a virtue and not an art. There being two parts of the soul that can follow a
course of reasoning, it must be the virtue of one of the two, i.e. of that part
which forms opinions; for opinion is about the variable and so is practical
wisdom. But yet it is not only a reasoned state; this is shown by the fact that
a state of that sort may forgotten but practical wisdom cannot.
6
Scientific knowledge is judgement about things that
are universal and necessary, and the conclusions of demonstration, and all
scientific knowledge, follow from first principles (for scientific knowledge
involves apprehension of a rational ground). This being so, the first principle
from which what is scientifically known follows cannot be an object of
scientific knowledge, of art, or of practical wisdom; for that which can be
scientifically known can be demonstrated, and art and practical wisdom deal
with things that are variable. Nor are these first principles the objects of
philosophic wisdom, for it is a mark of the philosopher to have demonstration
about some things. If, then, the states of mind by which we have truth and are
never deceived about things invariable or even variable are scientific
knowlededge, practical wisdom, philosophic wisdom, and intuitive reason, and it
cannot be any of the three (i.e. practical wisdom, scientific knowledge, or
philosophic wisdom), the remaining alternative is that it is intuitive reason
that grasps the first principles.
7
Wisdom (1) in the arts we ascribe to their most
finished exponents, e.g. to Phidias as a sculptor and to Polyclitus as a maker
of portrait-statues, and here we mean nothing by wisdom except excellence in
art; but (2) we think that some people are wise in general, not in some
particular field or in any other limited respect, as Homer says in the
Margites,
Him did the gods make neither a digger nor yet a
ploughman
Nor wise in anything else. Therefore wisdom must
plainly be the most finished of the forms of knowledge. It follows that the
wise man must not only know what follows from the first principles, but must
also possess truth about the first principles. Therefore wisdom must be
intuitive reason combined with scientific knowledge-scientific knowledge of the
highest objects which has received as it were its proper completion.
Of the highest objects, we say; for it would be
strange to think that the art of politics, or practical wisdom, is the best
knowledge, since man is not the best thing in the world. Now if what is healthy
or good is different for men and for fishes, but what is white or straight is
always the same, any one would say that what is wise is the same but what is
practically wise is different; for it is to that which observes well the
various matters concerning itself that one ascribes practical wisdom, and it is
to this that one will entrust such matters. This is why we say that some even
of the lower animals have practical wisdom, viz. those which are found to have
a power of foresight with regard to their own life. It is evident also that
philosophic wisdom and the art of politics cannot be the same; for if the state
of mind concerned with a man's own interests is to be called philosophic
wisdom, there will be many philosophic wisdoms; there will not be one concerned
with the good of all animals (any more than there is one art of medicine for
all existing things), but a different philosophic wisdom about the good of each
species.
But if the argument be that man is the best of the
animals, this makes no difference; for there are other things much more divine
in their nature even than man, e.g., most conspicuously, the bodies of which
the heavens are framed. From what has been said it is plain, then, that
philosophic wisdom is scientific knowledge, combined with intuitive reason, of
the things that are highest by nature. This is why we say Anaxagoras, Thales,
and men like them have philosophic but not practical wisdom, when we see them
ignorant of what is to their own advantage, and why we say that they know
things that are remarkable, admirable, difficult, and divine, but useless; viz.
because it is not human goods that they seek.
Practical wisdom on the other hand is concerned with
things human and things about which it is possible to deliberate; for we say
this is above all the work of the man of practical wisdom, to deliberate well,
but no one deliberates about things invariable, nor about things which have not
an end, and that a good that can be brought about by action. The man who is
without qualification good at deliberating is the man who is capable of aiming
in accordance with calculation at the best for man of things attainable by
action. Nor is practical wisdom concerned with universals only-it must also
recognize the particulars; for it is practical, and practice is concerned with
particulars. This is why some who do not know, and especially those who have
experience, are more practical than others who know; for if a man knew that
light meats are digestible and wholesome, but did not know which sorts of meat
are light, he would not produce health, but the man who knows that chicken is
wholesome is more likely to produce health.
Now practical wisdom is concerned with action;
therefore one should have both forms of it, or the latter in preference to the
former. But of practical as of philosophic wisdom there must be a controlling
kind.
8
Political wisdom and practical wisdom are the same
state of mind, but their essence is not the same. Of the wisdom concerned with
the city, the practical wisdom which plays a controlling part is legislative
wisdom, while that which is related to this as particulars to their universal
is known by the general name 'political wisdom'; this has to do with action and
deliberation, for a decree is a thing to be carried out in the form of an
individual act. This is why the exponents of this art are alone said to 'take
part in politics'; for these alone 'do things' as manual labourers 'do things'.
Practical wisdom also is identified especially with
that form of it which is concerned with a man himself-with the individual; and
this is known by the general name 'practical wisdom'; of the other kinds one is
called household management, another legislation, the third politics, and of
the latter one part is called deliberative and the other judicial. Now knowing
what is good for oneself will be one kind of knowledge, but it is very
different from the other kinds; and the man who knows and concerns himself with
his own interests is thought to have practical wisdom, while politicians are
thought to be busybodies; hence the word of Euripides,
But how could I be wise, who might at ease, Numbered among the army's multitude, Have had an equal share? For those who aim too high and do too much. Those
who think thus seek their own good, and consider that one ought to do so. From
this opinion, then, has come the view that such men have practical wisdom; yet
perhaps one's own good cannot exist without household management, nor without a
form of government. Further, how one should order one's own affairs is not
clear and needs inquiry.
What has been said is confirmed by the fact that while
young men become geometricians and mathematicians and wise in matters like
these, it is thought that a young man of practical wisdom cannot be found. The
cause is that such wisdom is concerned not only with universals but with
particulars, which become familiar from experience, but a young man has no
experience, for it is length of time that gives experience; indeed one might
ask this question too, why a boy may become a mathematician, but not a
philosopher or a physicist. It is because the objects of mathematics exist by
abstraction, while the first principles of these other subjects come from
experience, and because young men have no conviction about the latter but
merely use the proper language, while the essence of mathematical objects is
plain enough to them?
Further, error in deliberation may be either about the
universal or about the particular; we may fall to know either that all water
that weighs heavy is bad, or that this particular water weighs heavy.
That practical wisdom is not scientific knowledge is
evident; for it is, as has been said, concerned with the ultimate particular
fact, since the thing to be done is of this nature. It is opposed, then, to
intuitive reason; for intuitive reason is of the limiting premisses, for which
no reason can be given, while practical wisdom is concerned with the ultimate
particular, which is the object not of scientific knowledge but of
perception-not the perception of qualities peculiar to one sense but a
perception akin to that by which we perceive that the particular figure before
us is a triangle; for in that direction as well as in that of the major premiss
there will be a limit. But this is rather perception than practical wisdom,
though it is another kind of perception than that of the qualities peculiar to
each sense.
9
There is a difference between inquiry and
deliberation; for deliberation is inquiry into a particular kind of thing. We
must grasp the nature of excellence in deliberation as well whether it is a
form of scientific knowledge, or opinion, or skill in conjecture, or some other
kind of thing. Scientific knowledge it is not; for men do not inquire about the
things they know about, but good deliberation is a kind of deliberation, and he
who deliberates inquires and calculates. Nor is it skill in conjecture; for
this both involves no reasoning and is something that is quick in its
operation, while men deliberate a long time, and they say that one should carry
out quickly the conclusions of one's deliberation, but should deliberate
slowly. Again, readiness of mind is different from excellence in deliberation;
it is a sort of skill in conjecture. Nor again is excellence in deliberation
opinion of any sort. But since the man who deliberates badly makes a mistake,
while he who deliberates well does so correctly, excellence in deliberation is
clearly a kind of correctness, but neither of knowledge nor of opinion; for
there is no such thing as correctness of knowledge (since there is no such
thing as error of knowledge), and correctness of opinion is truth; and at the
same time everything that is an object of opinion is already determined. But
again excellence in deliberation involves reasoning. The remaining alternative,
then, is that it is correctness of thinking; for this is not yet assertion,
since, while even opinion is not inquiry but has reached the stage of
assertion, the man who is deliberating, whether he does so well or ill, is
searching for something and calculating.
But excellence in deliberation is a certain correctness
of deliberation; hence we must first inquire what deliberation is and what it
is about. And, there being more than one kind of correctness, plainly
excellence in deliberation is not any and every kind; for (1) the incontinent
man and the bad man, if he is clever, will reach as a result of his calculation
what he sets before himself, so that he will have deliberated correctly, but he
will have got for himself a great evil. Now to have deliberated well is thought
to be a good thing; for it is this kind of correctness of deliberation that is
excellence in deliberation, viz. that which tends to attain what is good. But
(2) it is possible to attain even good by a false syllogism, and to attain what
one ought to do but not by the right means, the middle term being false; so
that this too is not yet excellence in deliberation this state in virtue of
which one attains what one ought but not by the right means. Again (3) it is
possible to attain it by long deliberation while another man attains it
quickly. Therefore in the former case we have not yet got excellence in
deliberation, which is rightness with regard to the expedient-rightness in
respect both of the end, the manner, and the time. (4) Further it is possible
to have deliberated well either in the unqualified sense or with reference to a
particular end. Excellence in deliberation in the unqualified sense, then, is
that which succeeds with reference to what is the end in the unqualified sense,
and excellence in deliberation in a particular sense is that which succeeds
relatively to a particular end. If, then, it is characteristic of men of
practical wisdom to have deliberated well, excellence in deliberation will be
correctness with regard to what conduces to the end of which practical wisdom
is the true apprehension.
10
Understanding, also, and goodness of understanding, in
virtue of which men are said to be men of understanding or of good
understanding, are neither entirely the same as opinion or scientific knowledge
(for at that rate all men would have been men of understanding), nor are they
one of the particular sciences, such as medicine, the science of things
connected with health, or geometry, the science of spatial magnitudes. For
understanding is neither about things that are always and are unchangeable, nor
about any and every one of the things that come into being, but about things
which may become subjects of questioning and deliberation. Hence it is about
the same objects as practical wisdom; but understanding and practical wisdom
are not the same. For practical wisdom issues commands, since its end is what
ought to be done or not to be done; but understanding only judges. (Understanding
is identical with goodness of understanding, men of understanding with men of
good understanding.) Now understanding is neither the having nor the acquiring
of practical wisdom; but as learning is called understanding when it means the
exercise of the faculty of knowledge, so 'understanding' is applicable to the
exercise of the faculty of opinion for the purpose of judging of what some one
else says about matters with which practical wisdom is concerned-and of judging
soundly; for 'well' and 'soundly' are the same thing. And from this has come
the use of the name 'understanding' in virtue of which men are said to be 'of
good understanding', viz. from the application of the word to the grasping of
scientific truth; for we often call such grasping understanding.
11
What is called judgement, in virtue of which men are
said to 'be sympathetic judges' and to 'have judgement', is the right
discrimination of the equitable. This is shown by the fact that we say the
equitable man is above all others a man of sympathetic judgement, and identify
equity with sympathetic judgement about certain facts. And sympathetic
judgement is judgement which discriminates what is equitable and does so
correctly; and correct judgement is that which judges what is true.
Now all the states we have considered converge, as
might be expected, to the same point; for when we speak of judgement and understanding
and practical wisdom and intuitive reason we credit the same people with
possessing judgement and having reached years of reason and with having
practical wisdom and understanding. For all these faculties deal with
ultimates, i.e. with particulars; and being a man of understanding and of good
or sympathetic judgement consists in being able judge about the things with
which practical wisdom is concerned; for the equities are common to all good
men in relation to other men. Now all things which have to be done are included
among particulars or ultimates; for not only must the man of practical wisdom
know particular facts, but understanding and judgement are also concerned with
things to be done, and these are ultimates. And intuitive reason is concerned
with the ultimates in both directions; for both the first terms and the last
are objects of intuitive reason and not of argument, and the intuitive reason
which is presupposed by demonstrations grasps the unchangeable and first terms,
while the intuitive reason involved in practical reasonings grasps the last and
variable fact, i.e. the minor premiss. For these variable facts are the
starting-points for the apprehension of the end, since the universals are
reached from the particulars; of these therefore we must have perception, and
this perception is intuitive reason.
This is why these states are thought to be natural
endowments-why, while no one is thought to be a philosopher by nature, people
are thought to have by nature judgement, understanding, and intuitive reason. This
is shown by the fact that we think our powers correspond to our time of life,
and that a particular age brings with it intuitive reason and judgement; this
implies that nature is the cause. (Hence intuitive reason is both beginning and
end; for demonstrations are from these and about these.) Therefore we ought to
attend to the undemonstrated sayings and opinions of experienced and older
people or of people of practical wisdom not less than to demonstrations; for
because experience has given them an eye they see aright.
We have stated, then, what practical and philosophic
wisdom are, and with what each of them is concerned, and we have said that each
is the virtue of a different part of the soul.
12
Difficulties might be raised as to the utility of
these qualities of mind. For (1) philosophic wisdom will contemplate none of
the things that will make a man happy (for it is not concerned with any coming
into being), and though practical wisdom has this merit, for what purpose do we
need it? Practical wisdom is the quality of mind concerned with things just and
noble and good for man, but these are the things which it is the mark of a good
man to do, and we are none the more able to act for knowing them if the virtues
are states of character, just as we are none the better able to act for knowing
the things that are healthy and sound, in the sense not of producing but of
issuing from the state of health; for we are none the more able to act for
having the art of medicine or of gymnastics. But (2) if we are to say that a
man should have practical wisdom not for the sake of knowing moral truths but
for the sake of becoming good, practical wisdom will be of no use to those who
are good; again it is of no use to those who have not virtue; for it will make
no difference whether they have practical wisdom themselves or obey others who
have it, and it would be enough for us to do what we do in the case of health;
though we wish to become healthy, yet we do not learn the art of medicine. (3)
Besides this, it would be thought strange if practical wisdom, being inferior
to philosophic wisdom, is to be put in authority over it, as seems to be
implied by the fact that the art which produces anything rules and issues
commands about that thing.
These, then, are the questions we must discuss; so far
we have only stated the difficulties.
(1) Now first let us say that in themselves these
states must be worthy of choice because they are the virtues of the two parts
of the soul respectively, even if neither of them produce anything.
(2) Secondly, they do produce something, not as the
art of medicine produces health, however, but as health produces health; so
does philosophic wisdom produce happiness; for, being a part of virtue entire,
by being possessed and by actualizing itself it makes a man happy.
(3) Again, the work of man is achieved only in
accordance with practical wisdom as well as with moral virtue; for virtue makes
us aim at the right mark, and practical wisdom makes us take the right means. (Of
the fourth part of the soul-the nutritive-there is no such virtue; for there is
nothing which it is in its power to do or not to do., 4) With regard to our
being none the more able to do because of our practical wisdom what is noble
and just, let us begin a little further back, starting with the following
principle. As we say that some people who do just acts are not necessarily
just, i.e. those who do the acts ordained by the laws either unwillingly or
owing to ignorance or for some other reason and not for the sake of the acts
themselves (though, to be sure, they do what they should and all the things
that the good man ought), so is it, it seems, that in order to be good one must
be in a certain state when one does the several acts, i.e. one must do them as
a result of choice and for the sake of the acts themselves. Now virtue makes
the choice right, but the question of the things which should naturally be done
to carry out our choice belongs not to virtue but to another faculty. We must
devote our attention to these matters and give a clearer statement about them. There
is a faculty which is called cleverness; and this is such as to be able to do
the things that tend towards the mark we have set before ourselves, and to hit
it. Now if the mark be noble, the cleverness is laudable, but if the mark be
bad, the cleverness is mere smartness; hence we call even men of practical
wisdom clever or smart. Practical wisdom is not the faculty, but it does not
exist without this faculty. And this eye of the soul acquires its formed state
not without the aid of virtue, as has been said and is plain; for the
syllogisms which deal with acts to be done are things which involve a
starting-point, viz. 'since the end, i.e. what is best, is of such and such a
nature', whatever it may be (let it for the sake of argument be what we
please); and this is not evident except to the good man; for wickedness
perverts us and causes us to be deceived about the starting-points of action. Therefore
it is evident that it is impossible to be practically wise without being good.
13
We must therefore consider virtue also once more; for
virtue too is similarly related; as practical wisdom is to cleverness-not the
same, but like it-so is natural virtue to virtue in the strict sense. For all
men think that each type of character belongs to its possessors in some sense
by nature; for from the very moment of birth we are just or fitted for
selfcontrol or brave or have the other moral qualities; but yet we seek
something else as that which is good in the strict sense-we seek for the
presence of such qualities in another way. For both children and brutes have
the natural dispositions to these qualities, but without reason these are
evidently hurtful. Only we seem to see this much, that, while one may be led
astray by them, as a strong body which moves without sight may stumble badly
because of its lack of sight, still, if a man once acquires reason, that makes
a difference in action; and his state, while still like what it was, will then
be virtue in the strict sense. Therefore, as in the part of us which forms
opinions there are two types, cleverness and practical wisdom, so too in the
moral part there are two types, natural virtue and virtue in the strict sense,
and of these the latter involves practical wisdom. This is why some say that
all the virtues are forms of practical wisdom, and why Socrates in one respect
was on the right track while in another he went astray; in thinking that all
the virtues were forms of practical wisdom he was wrong, but in saying they
implied practical wisdom he was right. This is confirmed by the fact that even
now all men, when they define virtue, after naming the state of character and
its objects add 'that (state) which is in accordance with the right rule'; now
the right rule is that which is in accordance with practical wisdom. All men,
then, seem somehow to divine that this kind of state is virtue, viz. that which
is in accordance with practical wisdom. But we must go a little further. For it
is not merely the state in accordance with the right rule, but the state that
implies the presence of the right rule, that is virtue; and practical wisdom is
a right rule about such matters. Socrates, then, thought the virtues were rules
or rational principles (for he thought they were, all of them, forms of
scientific knowledge), while we think they involve a rational principle.
It is clear, then, from what has been said, that it is
not possible to be good in the strict sense without practical wisdom, nor
practically wise without moral virtue. But in this way we may also refute the
dialectical argument whereby it might be contended that the virtues exist in
separation from each other; the same man, it might be said, is not best
equipped by nature for all the virtues, so that he will have already acquired
one when he has not yet acquired another. This is possible in respect of the
natural virtues, but not in respect of those in respect of which a man is
called without qualification good; for with the presence of the one quality,
practical wisdom, will be given all the virtues. And it is plain that, even if
it were of no practical value, we should have needed it because it is the
virtue of the part of us in question; plain too that the choice will not be
right without practical wisdom any more than without virtue; for the one deter,
mines the end and the other makes us do the things that lead to the end.
But again it is not supreme over philosophic wisdom,
i.e. over the superior part of us, any more than the art of medicine is over
health; for it does not use it but provides for its coming into being; it
issues orders, then, for its sake, but not to it. Further, to maintain its
supremacy would be like saying that the art of politics rules the gods because
it issues orders about all the affairs of the state.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK VII
1
Let us now make a fresh beginning and point out that
of moral states to be avoided there are three kinds-vice, incontinence,
brutishness. The contraries of two of these are evident,-one we call virtue,
the other continence; to brutishness it would be most fitting to oppose
superhuman virtue, a heroic and divine kind of virtue, as Homer has represented
Priam saying of Hector that he was very good,
For he seemed not, he, The child of a mortal man, but as one that of God's seed came.
Therefore if, as they say, men become gods by excess
of virtue, of this kind must evidently be the state opposed to the brutish
state; for as a brute has no vice or virtue, so neither has a god; his state is
higher than virtue, and that of a brute is a different kind of state from vice.
Now, since it is rarely that a godlike man is found-to
use the epithet of the Spartans, who when they admire any one highly call him a
'godlike man'-so too the brutish type is rarely found among men; it is found
chiefly among barbarians, but some brutish qualities are also produced by
disease or deformity; and we also call by this evil name those men who go
beyond all ordinary standards by reason of vice. Of this kind of disposition,
however, we must later make some mention, while we have discussed vice before
we must now discuss incontinence and softness (or effeminacy), and continence
and endurance; for we must treat each of the two neither as identical with
virtue or wickedness, nor as a different genus. We must, as in all other cases,
set the observed facts before us and, after first discussing the difficulties,
go on to prove, if possible, the truth of all the common opinions about these
affections of the mind, or, failing this, of the greater number and the most
authoritative; for if we both refute the objections and leave the common
opinions undisturbed, we shall have proved the case sufficiently.
Now (1) both continence and endurance are thought to
be included among things good and praiseworthy, and both incontinence and soft,
ness among things bad and blameworthy; and the same man is thought to be
continent and ready to abide by the result of his calculations, or incontinent
and ready to abandon them. And (2) the incontinent man, knowing that what he
does is bad, does it as a result of passion, while the continent man, knowing
that his appetites are bad, refuses on account of his rational principle to
follow them (3) The temperate man all men call continent and disposed to
endurance, while the continent man some maintain to be always temperate but
others do not; and some call the self-indulgent man incontinent and the
incontinent man selfindulgent indiscriminately, while others distinguish them. (4)
The man of practical wisdom, they sometimes say, cannot be incontinent, while
sometimes they say that some who are practically wise and clever are
incontinent. Again (5) men are said to be incontinent even with respect to
anger, honour, and gain.-These, then, are the things that are said.
2
Now we may ask (1) how a man who judges rightly can
behave incontinently. That he should behave so when he has knowledge, some say
is impossible; for it would be strange-so Socrates thought-if when knowledge
was in a man something else could master it and drag it about like a slave. For
Socrates was entirely opposed to the view in question, holding that there is no
such thing as incontinence; no one, he said, when he judges acts against what
he judges best-people act so only by reason of ignorance. Now this view plainly
contradicts the observed facts, and we must inquire about what happens to such
a man; if he acts by reason of ignorance, what is the manner of his ignorance? For
that the man who behaves incontinently does not, before he gets into this
state, think he ought to act so, is evident. But there are some who concede
certain of Socrates' contentions but not others; that nothing is stronger than
knowledge they admit, but not that on one acts contrary to what has seemed to
him the better course, and therefore they say that the incontinent man has not
knowledge when he is mastered by his pleasures, but opinion. But if it is
opinion and not knowledge, if it is not a strong conviction that resists but a
weak one, as in men who hesitate, we sympathize with their failure to stand by
such convictions against strong appetites; but we do not sympathize with
wickedness, nor with any of the other blameworthy states. Is it then practical
wisdom whose resistance is mastered? That is the strongest of all states. But
this is absurd; the same man will be at once practically wise and incontinent,
but no one would say that it is the part of a practically wise man to do
willingly the basest acts. Besides, it has been shown before that the man of
practical wisdom is one who will act (for he is a man concerned with the
individual facts) and who has the other virtues.
(2) Further, if continence involves having strong and
bad appetites, the temperate man will not be continent nor the continent man
temperate; for a temperate man will have neither excessive nor bad appetites. But
the continent man must; for if the appetites are good, the state of character
that restrains us from following them is bad, so that not all continence will
be good; while if they are weak and not bad, there is nothing admirable in
resisting them, and if they are weak and bad, there is nothing great in
resisting these either.
(3) Further, if continence makes a man ready to stand
by any and every opinion, it is bad, i.e. if it makes him stand even by a false
opinion; and if incontinence makes a man apt to abandon any and every opinion,
there will be a good incontinence, of which Sophocles' Neoptolemus in the
Philoctetes will be an instance; for he is to be praised for not standing by
what Odysseus persuaded him to do, because he is pained at telling a lie.
(4) Further, the sophistic argument presents a
difficulty; the syllogism arising from men's wish to expose paradoxical results
arising from an opponent's view, in order that they may be admired when they
succeed, is one that puts us in a difficulty (for thought is bound fast when it
will not rest because the conclusion does not satisfy it, and cannot advance
because it cannot refute the argument). There is an argument from which it
follows that folly coupled with incontinence is virtue; for a man does the
opposite of what he judges, owing to incontinence, but judges what is good to
be evil and something that he should not do, and consequence he will do what is
good and not what is evil.
(5) Further, he who on conviction does and pursues and
chooses what is pleasant would be thought to be better than one who does so as
a result not of calculation but of incontinence; for he is easier to cure since
he may be persuaded to change his mind. But to the incontinent man may be
applied the proverb 'when water chokes, what is one to wash it down with?' If
he had been persuaded of the rightness of what he does, he would have desisted
when he was persuaded to change his mind; but now he acts in spite of his being
persuaded of something quite different.
(6) Further, if incontinence and continence are
concerned with any and every kind of object, who is it that is incontinent in
the unqualified sense? No one has all the forms of incontinence, but we say
some people are incontinent without qualification.
3
Of some such kind are the difficulties that arise;
some of these points must be refuted and the others left in possession of the
field; for the solution of the difficulty is the discovery of the truth. (1) We
must consider first, then, whether incontinent people act knowingly or not, and
in what sense knowingly; then (2) with what sorts of object the incontinent and
the continent man may be said to be concerned (i.e. whether with any and every
pleasure and pain or with certain determinate kinds), and whether the continent
man and the man of endurance are the same or different; and similarly with
regard to the other matters germane to this inquiry. The starting-point of our
investigation is (a) the question whether the continent man and the incontinent
are differentiated by their objects or by their attitude, i.e. whether the
incontinent man is incontinent simply by being concerned with such and such
objects, or, instead, by his attitude, or, instead of that, by both these
things; (b) the second question is whether incontinence and continence are
concerned with any and every object or not. The man who is incontinent in the
unqualified sense is neither concerned with any and every object, but with
precisely those with which the self-indulgent man is concerned, nor is he
characterized by being simply related to these (for then his state would be the
same as self-indulgence), but by being related to them in a certain way. For
the one is led on in accordance with his own choice, thinking that he ought
always to pursue the present pleasure; while the other does not think so, but
yet pursues it.
(1) As for the suggestion that it is true opinion and
not knowledge against which we act incontinently, that makes no difference to
the argument; for some people when in a state of opinion do not hesitate, but
think they know exactly. If, then, the notion is that owing to their weak
conviction those who have opinion are more likely to act against their
judgement than those who know, we answer that there need be no difference
between knowledge and opinion in this respect; for some men are no less
convinced of what they think than others of what they know; as is shown by the
of Heraclitus. But (a), since we use the word 'know' in two senses (for both
the man who has knowledge but is not using it and he who is using it are said
to know), it will make a difference whether, when a man does what he should
not, he has the knowledge but is not exercising it, or is exercising it; for
the latter seems strange, but not the former.
(b) Further, since there are two kinds of premisses,
there is nothing to prevent a man's having both premisses and acting against
his knowledge, provided that he is using only the universal premiss and not the
particular; for it is particular acts that have to be done. And there are also
two kinds of universal term; one is predicable of the agent, the other of the
object; e.g. 'dry food is good for every man', and 'I am a man', or 'such and
such food is dry'; but whether 'this food is such and such', of this the
incontinent man either has not or is not exercising the knowledge. There will,
then, be, firstly, an enormous difference between these manners of knowing, so
that to know in one way when we act incontinently would not seem anything
strange, while to know in the other way would be extraordinary.
And further (c) the possession of knowledge in another
sense than those just named is something that happens to men; for within the
case of having knowledge but not using it we see a difference of state,
admitting of the possibility of having knowledge in a sense and yet not having
it, as in the instance of a man asleep, mad, or drunk. But now this is just the
condition of men under the influence of passions; for outbursts of anger and
sexual appetites and some other such passions, it is evident, actually alter
our bodily condition, and in some men even produce fits of madness. It is
plain, then, that incontinent people must be said to be in a similar condition
to men asleep, mad, or drunk. The fact that men use the language that flows
from knowledge proves nothing; for even men under the influence of these
passions utter scientific proofs and verses of Empedocles, and those who have
just begun to learn a science can string together its phrases, but do not yet
know it; for it has to become part of themselves, and that takes time; so that
we must suppose that the use of language by men in an incontinent state means
no more than its utterance by actors on the stage. (d) Again, we may also view
the cause as follows with reference to the facts of human nature. The one
opinion is universal, the other is concerned with the particular facts, and
here we come to something within the sphere of perception; when a single
opinion results from the two, the soul must in one type of case affirm the
conclusion, while in the case of opinions concerned with production it must
immediately act (e.g. if 'everything sweet ought to be tasted', and 'this is
sweet', in the sense of being one of the particular sweet things, the man who
can act and is not prevented must at the same time actually act accordingly). When,
then, the universal opinion is present in us forbidding us to taste, and there
is also the opinion that 'everything sweet is pleasant', and that 'this is
sweet' (now this is the opinion that is active), and when appetite happens to
be present in us, the one opinion bids us avoid the object, but appetite leads
us towards it (for it can move each of our bodily parts); so that it turns out
that a man behaves incontinently under the influence (in a sense) of a rule and
an opinion, and of one not contrary in itself, but only incidentally-for the
appetite is contrary, not the opinion-to the right rule. It also follows that
this is the reason why the lower animals are not incontinent, viz. because they
have no universal judgement but only imagination and memory of particulars.
The explanation of how the ignorance is dissolved and
the incontinent man regains his knowledge, is the same as in the case of the
man drunk or asleep and is not peculiar to this condition; we must go to the
students of natural science for it. Now, the last premiss both being an opinion
about a perceptible object, and being what determines our actions this a man
either has not when he is in the state of passion, or has it in the sense in
which having knowledge did not mean knowing but only talking, as a drunken man
may utter the verses of Empedocles. And because the last term is not universal
nor equally an object of scientific knowledge with the universal term, the
position that Socrates sought to establish actually seems to result; for it is
not in the presence of what is thought to be knowledge proper that the
affection of incontinence arises (nor is it this that is 'dragged about' as a
result of the state of passion), but in that of perceptual knowledge.
This must suffice as our answer to the question of
action with and without knowledge, and how it is possible to behave
incontinently with knowledge.
4
(2) We must next discuss whether there is any one who
is incontinent without qualification, or all men who are incontinent are so in
a particular sense, and if there is, with what sort of objects he is concerned.
That both continent persons and persons of endurance, and incontinent and soft
persons, are concerned with pleasures and pains, is evident.
Now of the things that produce pleasure some are
necessary, while others are worthy of choice in themselves but admit of excess,
the bodily causes of pleasure being necessary (by such I mean both those
concerned with food and those concerned with sexual intercourse, i.e. the
bodily matters with which we defined self-indulgence and temperance as being
concerned), while the others are not necessary but worthy of choice in
themselves (e.g. victory, honour, wealth, and good and pleasant things of this
sort). This being so, (a) those who go to excess with reference to the latter,
contrary to the right rule which is in themselves, are not called incontinent simply,
but incontinent with the qualification 'in respect of money, gain, honour, or
anger',-not simply incontinent, on the ground that they are different from
incontinent people and are called incontinent by reason of a resemblance. (Compare
the case of Anthropos (Man), who won a contest at the Olympic games; in his
case the general definition of man differed little from the definition peculiar
to him, but yet it was different.) This is shown by the fact that incontinence
either without qualification or in respect of some particular bodily pleasure
is blamed not only as a fault but as a kind of vice, while none of the people
who are incontinent in these other respects is so blamed.
But (b) of the people who are incontinent with respect
to bodily enjoyments, with which we say the temperate and the self-indulgent
man are concerned, he who pursues the excesses of things pleasant-and shuns
those of things painful, of hunger and thirst and heat and cold and all the
objects of touch and taste-not by choice but contrary to his choice and his
judgement, is called incontinent, not with the qualification 'in respect of
this or that', e.g. of anger, but just simply. This is confirmed by the fact
that men are called 'soft' with regard to these pleasures, but not with regard
to any of the others. And for this reason we group together the incontinent and
the self-indulgent, the continent and the temperate man-but not any of these
other types-because they are concerned somehow with the same pleasures and
pains; but though these are concerned with the same objects, they are not
similarly related to them, but some of them make a deliberate choice while the
others do not.
This is why we should describe as self-indulgent
rather the man who without appetite or with but a slight appetite pursues the
excesses of pleasure and avoids moderate pains, than the man who does so
because of his strong appetites; for what would the former do, if he had in
addition a vigorous appetite, and a violent pain at the lack of the 'necessary'
objects?
Now of appetites and pleasures some belong to the
class of things generically noble and good-for some pleasant things are by
nature worthy of choice, while others are contrary to these, and others are
intermediate, to adopt our previous distinction-e.g. wealth, gain, victory,
honour. And with reference to all objects whether of this or of the
intermediate kind men are not blamed for being affected by them, for desiring
and loving them, but for doing so in a certain way, i.e. for going to excess. (This
is why all those who contrary to the rule either are mastered by or pursue one
of the objects which are naturally noble and good, e.g. those who busy
themselves more than they ought about honour or about children and parents,
(are not wicked); for these too are good, and those who busy themselves about
them are praised; but yet there is an excess even in them-if like Niobe one
were to fight even against the gods, or were to be as much devoted to one's
father as Satyrus nicknamed 'the filial', who was thought to be very silly on
this point.) There is no wickedness, then, with regard to these objects, for
the reason named, viz. because each of them is by nature a thing worthy of
choice for its own sake; yet excesses in respect of them are bad and to be
avoided. Similarly there is no incontinence with regard to them; for
incontinence is not only to be avoided but is also a thing worthy of blame; but
owing to a similarity in the state of feeling people apply the name
incontinence, adding in each case what it is in respect of, as we may describe
as a bad doctor or a bad actor one whom we should not call bad, simply. As,
then, in this case we do not apply the term without qualification because each
of these conditions is no shadness but only analogous to it, so it is clear
that in the other case also that alone must be taken to be incontinence and
continence which is concerned with the same objects as temperance and
self-indulgence, but we apply the term to anger by virtue of a resemblance; and
this is why we say with a qualification 'incontinent in respect of anger' as we
say 'incontinent in respect of honour, or of gain'.
5
(1) Some things are pleasant by nature, and of these
(a) some are so without qualification, and (b) others are so with reference to
particular classes either of animals or of men; while (2) others are not
pleasant by nature, but (a) some of them become so by reason of injuries to the
system, and (b) others by reason of acquired habits, and (c) others by reason
of originally bad natures. This being so, it is possible with regard to each of
the latter kinds to discover similar states of character to those recognized
with regard to the former; I mean (A) the brutish states, as in the case of the
female who, they say, rips open pregnant women and devours the infants, or of
the things in which some of the tribes about the Black Sea that have gone
savage are said to delight-in raw meat or in human flesh, or in lending their
children to one another to feast upon-or of the story told of Phalaris.
These states are brutish, but (B) others arise as a
result of disease (or, in some cases, of madness, as with the man who
sacrificed and ate his mother, or with the slave who ate the liver of his
fellow), and others are morbid states (C) resulting from custom, e.g. the habit
of plucking out the hair or of gnawing the nails, or even coals or earth, and
in addition to these paederasty; for these arise in some by nature and in
others, as in those who have been the victims of lust from childhood, from
habit.
Now those in whom nature is the cause of such a state
no one would call incontinent, any more than one would apply the epithet to
women because of the passive part they play in copulation; nor would one apply
it to those who are in a morbid condition as a result of habit. To have these
various types of habit is beyond the limits of vice, as brutishness is too; for
a man who has them to master or be mastered by them is not simple (continence
or) incontinence but that which is so by analogy, as the man who is in this condition
in respect of fits of anger is to be called incontinent in respect of that
feeling but not incontinent simply. For every excessive state whether of folly,
of cowardice, of self-indulgence, or of bad temper, is either brutish or
morbid; the man who is by nature apt to fear everything, even the squeak of a
mouse, is cowardly with a brutish cowardice, while the man who feared a weasel
did so in consequence of disease; and of foolish people those who by nature are
thoughtless and live by their senses alone are brutish, like some races of the
distant barbarians, while those who are so as a result of disease (e.g. of
epilepsy) or of madness are morbid. Of these characteristics it is possible to
have some only at times, and not to be mastered by them. e.g. Phalaris may have
restrained a desire to eat the flesh of a child or an appetite for unnatural
sexual pleasure; but it is also possible to be mastered, not merely to have the
feelings. Thus, as the wickedness which is on the human level is called wickedness
simply, while that which is not is called wickedness not simply but with the
qualification 'brutish' or 'morbid', in the same way it is plain that some
incontinence is brutish and some morbid, while only that which corresponds to
human self-indulgence is incontinence simply.
That incontinence and continence, then, are concerned
only with the same objects as selfindulgence and temperance and that what is
concerned with other objects is a type distinct from incontinence, and called
incontinence by a metaphor and not simply, is plain.
6
That incontinence in respect of anger is less
disgraceful than that in respect of the appetites is what we will now proceed
to see. (1) Anger seems to listen to argument to some extent, but to mishear
it, as do hasty servants who run out before they have heard the whole of what
one says, and then muddle the order, or as dogs bark if there is but a knock at
the door, before looking to see if it is a friend; so anger by reason of the
warmth and hastiness of its nature, though it hears, does not hear an order,
and springs to take revenge. For argument or imagination informs us that we
have been insulted or slighted, and anger, reasoning as it were that anything
like this must be fought against, boils up straightway; while appetite, if
argument or perception merely says that an object is pleasant, springs to the
enjoyment of it. Therefore anger obeys the argument in a sense, but appetite
does not. It is therefore more disgraceful; for the man who is incontinent in
respect of anger is in a sense conquered by argument, while the other is
conquered by appetite and not by argument.
(2) Further, we pardon people more easily for
following natural desires, since we pardon them more easily for following such
appetites as are common to all men, and in so far as they are common; now anger
and bad temper are more natural than the appetites for excess, i.e. for
unnecessary objects. Take for instance the man who defended himself on the
charge of striking his father by saying 'yes, but he struck his father, and he
struck his, and' (pointing to his child) 'this boy will strike me when he is a
man; it runs in the family'; or the man who when he was being dragged along by
his son bade him stop at the doorway, since he himself had dragged his father
only as far as that.
(2) Further, those who are more given to plotting
against others are more criminal. Now a passionate man is not given to
plotting, nor is anger itself-it is open; but the nature of appetite is
illustrated by what the poets call Aphrodite, 'guile-weaving daughter of
Cyprus', and by Homer's words about her 'embroidered girdle':
And the whisper of wooing is there, Whose subtlety stealeth the wits of the
wise, how prudent soe'er. Therefore if this form of incontinence is more
criminal and disgraceful than that in respect of anger, it is both incontinence
without qualification and in a sense vice.
(4) Further, no one commits wanton outrage with a
feeling of pain, but every one who acts in anger acts with pain, while the man
who commits outrage acts with pleasure. If, then, those acts at which it is
most just to be angry are more criminal than others, the incontinence which is
due to appetite is the more criminal; for there is no wanton outrage involved
in anger.
Plainly, then, the incontinence concerned with
appetite is more disgraceful than that concerned with anger, and continence and
incontinence are concerned with bodily appetites and pleasures; but we must
grasp the differences among the latter themselves. For, as has been said at the
beginning, some are human and natural both in kind and in magnitude, others are
brutish, and others are due to organic injuries and diseases. Only with the
first of these are temperance and self-indulgence concerned; this is why we
call the lower animals neither temperate nor self-indulgent except by a
metaphor, and only if some one race of animals exceeds another as a whole in
wantonness, destructiveness, and omnivorous greed; these have no power of
choice or calculation, but they are departures from the natural norm, as, among
men, madmen are. Now brutishness is a less evil than vice, though more
alarming; for it is not that the better part has been perverted, as in
man,-they have no better part. Thus it is like comparing a lifeless thing with
a living in respect of badness; for the badness of that which has no
originative source of movement is always less hurtful, and reason is an
originative source. Thus it is like comparing injustice in the abstract with an
unjust man. Each is in some sense worse; for a bad man will do ten thousand
times as much evil as a brute.
7
With regard to the pleasures and pains and appetites
and aversions arising through touch and taste, to which both self-indulgence
and temperance were formerly narrowed down, it possible to be in such a state
as to be defeated even by those of them which most people master, or to master
even those by which most people are defeated; among these possibilities, those
relating to pleasures are incontinence and continence, those relating to pains softness
and endurance. The state of most people is intermediate, even if they lean more
towards the worse states.
Now, since some pleasures are necessary while others
are not, and are necessary up to a point while the excesses of them are not,
nor the deficiencies, and this is equally true of appetites and pains, the man
who pursues the excesses of things pleasant, or pursues to excess necessary
objects, and does so by choice, for their own sake and not at all for the sake
of any result distinct from them, is self-indulgent; for such a man is of
necessity unlikely to repent, and therefore incurable, since a man who cannot
repent cannot be cured. The man who is deficient in his pursuit of them is the
opposite of self-indulgent; the man who is intermediate is temperate. Similarly,
there is the man who avoids bodily pains not because he is defeated by them but
by choice. (Of those who do not choose such acts, one kind of man is led to
them as a result of the pleasure involved, another because he avoids the pain
arising from the appetite, so that these types differ from one another. Now any
one would think worse of a man with no appetite or with weak appetite were he
to do something disgraceful, than if he did it under the influence of powerful
appetite, and worse of him if he struck a blow not in anger than if he did it
in anger; for what would he have done if he had been strongly affected? This is
why the self-indulgent man is worse than the incontinent.) of the states named,
then, the latter is rather a kind of softness; the former is self-indulgence. While
to the incontinent man is opposed the continent, to the soft is opposed the man
of endurance; for endurance consists in resisting, while continence consists in
conquering, and resisting and conquering are different, as not being beaten is
different from winning; this is why continence is also more worthy of choice
than endurance. Now the man who is defective in respect of resistance to the
things which most men both resist and resist successfully is soft and effeminate;
for effeminacy too is a kind of softness; such a man trails his cloak to avoid
the pain of lifting it, and plays the invalid without thinking himself
wretched, though the man he imitates is a wretched man.
The case is similar with regard to continence and
incontinence. For if a man is defeated by violent and excessive pleasures or
pains, there is nothing wonderful in that; indeed we are ready to pardon him if
he has resisted, as Theodectes' Philoctetes does when bitten by the snake, or
Carcinus' Cercyon in the Alope, and as people who try to restrain their
laughter burst out into a guffaw, as happened to Xenophantus. But it is
surprising if a man is defeated by and cannot resist pleasures or pains which
most men can hold out against, when this is not due to heredity or disease,
like the softness that is hereditary with the kings of the Scythians, or that
which distinguishes the female sex from the male.
The lover of amusement, too, is thought to be
self-indulgent, but is really soft. For amusement is a relaxation, since it is
a rest from work; and the lover of amusement is one of the people who go to
excess in this.
Of incontinence one kind is impetuosity, another
weakness. For some men after deliberating fail, owing to their emotion, to
stand by the conclusions of their deliberation, others because they have not
deliberated are led by their emotion; since some men (just as people who first
tickle others are not tickled themselves), if they have first perceived and
seen what is coming and have first roused themselves and their calculative
faculty, are not defeated by their emotion, whether it be pleasant or painful. It
is keen and excitable people that suffer especially from the impetuous form of
incontinence; for the former by reason of their quickness and the latter by
reason of the violence of their passions do not await the argument, because
they are apt to follow their imagination.
8
The self-indulgent man, as was said, is not apt to
repent; for he stands by his choice; but incontinent man is likely to repent. This
is why the position is not as it was expressed in the formulation of the
problem, but the selfindulgent man is incurable and the incontinent man
curable; for wickedness is like a disease such as dropsy or consumption, while
incontinence is like epilepsy; the former is a permanent, the latter an
intermittent badness. And generally incontinence and vice are different in
kind; vice is unconscious of itself, incontinence is not (of incontinent men
themselves, those who become temporarily beside themselves are better than
those who have the rational principle but do not abide by it, since the latter
are defeated by a weaker passion, and do not act without previous deliberation
like the others); for the incontinent man is like the people who get drunk
quickly and on little wine, i.e. on less than most people.
Evidently, then, incontinence is not vice (though
perhaps it is so in a qualified sense); for incontinence is contrary to choice
while vice is in accordance with choice; not but what they are similar in
respect of the actions they lead to; as in the saying of Demodocus about the
Milesians, 'the Milesians are not without sense, but they do the things that
senseless people do', so too incontinent people are not criminal, but they will
do criminal acts.
Now, since the incontinent man is apt to pursue, not
on conviction, bodily pleasures that are excessive and contrary to the right
rule, while the self-indulgent man is convinced because he is the sort of man
to pursue them, it is on the contrary the former that is easily persuaded to
change his mind, while the latter is not. For virtue and vice respectively
preserve and destroy the first principle, and in actions the final cause is the
first principle, as the hypotheses are in mathematics; neither in that case is
it argument that teaches the first principles, nor is it so here-virtue either
natural or produced by habituation is what teaches right opinion about the
first principle. Such a man as this, then, is temperate; his contrary is the self-indulgent.
But there is a sort of man who is carried away as a
result of passion and contrary to the right rule-a man whom passion masters so
that he does not act according to the right rule, but does not master to the
extent of making him ready to believe that he ought to pursue such pleasures
without reserve; this is the incontinent man, who is better than the
self-indulgent man, and not bad without qualification; for the best thing in
him, the first principle, is preserved. And contrary to him is another kind of
man, he who abides by his convictions and is not carried away, at least as a
result of passion. It is evident from these considerations that the latter is a
good state and the former a bad one.
9
Is the man continent who abides by any and every rule
and any and every choice, or the man who abides by the right choice, and is he
incontinent who abandons any and every choice and any and every rule, or he who
abandons the rule that is not false and the choice that is right; this is how
we put it before in our statement of the problem. Or is it incidentally any and
every choice but per se the true rule and the right choice by which the one
abides and the other does not? If any one chooses or pursues this for the sake
of that, per se he pursues and chooses the latter, but incidentally the former.
But when we speak without qualification we mean what is per se. Therefore in a
sense the one abides by, and the other abandons, any and every opinion; but
without qualification, the true opinion.
There are some who are apt to abide by their opinion,
who are called strong-headed, viz. those who are hard to persuade in the first
instance and are not easily persuaded to change; these have in them something
like the continent man, as the prodigal is in a way like the liberal man and
the rash man like the confident man; but they are different in many respects. For
it is to passion and appetite that the one will not yield, since on occasion
the continent man will be easy to persuade; but it is to argument that the others
refuse to yield, for they do form appetites and many of them are led by their
pleasures. Now the people who are strong-headed are the opinionated, the
ignorant, and the boorish-the opinionated being influenced by pleasure and
pain; for they delight in the victory they gain if they are not persuaded to
change, and are pained if their decisions become null and void as decrees
sometimes do; so that they are liker the incontinent than the continent man.
But there are some who fail to abide by their resolutions,
not as a result of incontinence, e.g. Neoptolemus in Sophocles' Philoctetes;
yet it was for the sake of pleasure that he did not stand fast-but a noble
pleasure; for telling the truth was noble to him, but he had been persuaded by
Odysseus to tell the lie. For not every one who does anything for the sake of
pleasure is either self-indulgent or bad or incontinent, but he who does it for
a disgraceful pleasure.
Since there is also a sort of man who takes less
delight than he should in bodily things, and does not abide by the rule, he who
is intermediate between him and the incontinent man is the continent man; for
the incontinent man fails to abide by the rule because he delights too much in
them, and this man because he delights in them too little; while the continent
man abides by the rule and does not change on either account. Now if continence
is good, both the contrary states must be bad, as they actually appear to be;
but because the other extreme is seen in few people and seldom, as temperance
is thought to be contrary only to self-indulgence, so is continence to
incontinence.
Since many names are applied analogically, it is by
analogy that we have come to speak of the 'continence' the temperate man; for
both the continent man and the temperate man are such as to do nothing contrary
to the rule for the sake of the bodily pleasures, but the former has and the
latter has not bad appetites, and the latter is such as not to feel pleasure
contrary to the rule, while the former is such as to feel pleasure but not to
be led by it. And the incontinent and the self-indulgent man are also like
another; they are different, but both pursue bodily pleasures- the latter,
however, also thinking that he ought to do so, while the former does not think
this.
10
Nor can the same man have practical wisdom and be
incontinent; for it has been shown' that a man is at the same time practically
wise, and good in respect of character. Further, a man has practical wisdom not
by knowing only but by being able to act; but the incontinent man is unable to
act-there is, however, nothing to prevent a clever man from being incontinent;
this is why it is sometimes actually thought that some people have practical
wisdom but are incontinent, viz. because cleverness and practical wisdom differ
in the way we have described in our first discussions, and are near together in
respect of their reasoning, but differ in respect of their purpose-nor yet is
the incontinent man like the man who knows and is contemplating a truth, but
like the man who is asleep or drunk. And he acts willingly (for he acts in a
sense with knowledge both of what he does and of the end to which he does it),
but is not wicked, since his purpose is good; so that he is half-wicked. And he
is not a criminal; for he does not act of malice aforethought; of the two types
of incontinent man the one does not abide by the conclusions of his
deliberation, while the excitable man does not deliberate at all. And thus the
incontinent man like a city which passes all the right decrees and has good
laws, but makes no use of them, as in Anaxandrides' jesting remark,
The city willed it, that cares nought for laws; but
the wicked man is like a city that uses its laws, but has wicked laws to use.
Now incontinence and continence are concerned with
that which is in excess of the state characteristic of most men; for the
continent man abides by his resolutions more and the incontinent man less than
most men can.
Of the forms of incontinence, that of excitable people
is more curable than that of those who deliberate but do not abide by their
decisions, and those who are incontinent through habituation are more curable
than those in whom incontinence is innate; for it is easier to change a habit
than to change one's nature; even habit is hard to change just because it is
like nature, as Evenus says:
I say that habit's but a long practice, friend, And this becomes men's nature in the end.
We have now stated what continence, incontinence,
endurance, and softness are, and how these states are related to each other.
11
The study of pleasure and pain belongs to the province
of the political philosopher; for he is the architect of the end, with a view
to which we call one thing bad and another good without qualification. Further,
it is one of our necessary tasks to consider them; for not only did we lay it
down that moral virtue and vice are concerned with pains and pleasures, but
most people say that happiness involves pleasure; this is why the blessed man
is called by a name derived from a word meaning enjoyment.
Now (1) some people think that no pleasure is a good,
either in itself or incidentally, since the good and pleasure are not the same;
(2) others think that some pleasures are good but that most are bad. (3) Again
there is a third view, that even if all pleasures are good, yet the best thing
in the world cannot be pleasure. (1) The reasons given for the view that
pleasure is not a good at all are (a) that every pleasure is a perceptible
process to a natural state, and that no process is of the same kind as its end,
e.g. no process of building of the same kind as a house. (b) A temperate man
avoids pleasures. (c) A man of practical wisdom pursues what is free from pain,
not what is pleasant. (d) The pleasures are a hindrance to thought, and the
more so the more one delights in them, e.g. in sexual pleasure; for no one
could think of anything while absorbed in this. (e) There is no art of
pleasure; but every good is the product of some art. (f) Children and the
brutes pursue pleasures. (2) The reasons for the view that not all pleasures
are good are that (a) there are pleasures that are actually base and objects of
reproach, and (b) there are harmful pleasures; for some pleasant things are
unhealthy. (3) The reason for the view that the best thing in the world is not
pleasure is that pleasure is not an end but a process.
12
These are pretty much the things that are said. That
it does not follow from these grounds that pleasure is not a good, or even the
chief good, is plain from the following considerations. (A, a) First, since
that which is good may be so in either of two senses (one thing good simply and
another good for a particular person), natural constitutions and states of
being, and therefore also the corresponding movements and processes, will be
correspondingly divisible. Of those which are thought to be bad some will be
bad if taken without qualification but not bad for a particular person, but
worthy of his choice, and some will not be worthy of choice even for a
particular person, but only at a particular time and for a short period, though
not without qualification; while others are not even pleasures, but seem to be
so, viz. all those which involve pain and whose end is curative, e.g. the
processes that go on in sick persons.
(b) Further, one kind of good being activity and
another being state, the processes that restore us to our natural state are
only incidentally pleasant; for that matter the activity at work in the
appetites for them is the activity of so much of our state and nature as has
remained unimpaired; for there are actually pleasures that involve no pain or
appetite (e.g. those of contemplation), the nature in such a case not being
defective at all. That the others are incidental is indicated by the fact that
men do not enjoy the same pleasant objects when their nature is in its settled
state as they do when it is being replenished, but in the former case they
enjoy the things that are pleasant without qualification, in the latter the
contraries of these as well; for then they enjoy even sharp and bitter things,
none of which is pleasant either by nature or without qualification. The states
they produce, therefore, are not pleasures naturally or without qualification;
for as pleasant things differ, so do the pleasures arising from them.
(c) Again, it is not necessary that there should be
something else better than pleasure, as some say the end is better than the
process; for leasures are not processes nor do they all involve process-they
are activities and ends; nor do they arise when we are becoming something, but
when we are exercising some faculty; and not all pleasures have an end
different from themselves, but only the pleasures of persons who are being led
to the perfecting of their nature. This is why it is not right to say that
pleasure is perceptible process, but it should rather be called activity of the
natural state, and instead of 'perceptible' 'unimpeded'. It is thought by some
people to be process just because they think it is in the strict sense good;
for they think that activity is process, which it is not.
(B) The view that pleasures are bad because some
pleasant things are unhealthy is like saying that healthy things are bad
because some healthy things are bad for money-making; both are bad in the
respect mentioned, but they are not bad for that reason-indeed, thinking itself
is sometimes injurious to health.
Neither practical wisdom nor any state of being is
impeded by the pleasure arising from it; it is foreign pleasures that impede,
for the pleasures arising from thinking and learning will make us think and
learn all the more.
(C) The fact that no pleasure is the product of any
art arises naturally enough; there is no art of any other activity either, but
only of the corresponding faculty; though for that matter the arts of the
perfumer and the cook are thought to be arts of pleasure.
(D) The arguments based on the grounds that the
temperate man avoids pleasure and that the man of practical wisdom pursues the
painless life, and that children and the brutes pursue pleasure, are all
refuted by the same consideration. We have pointed out in what sense pleasures
are good without qualification and in what sense some are not good; now both
the brutes and children pursue pleasures of the latter kind (and the man of
practical wisdom pursues tranquil freedom from that kind), viz. those which
imply appetite and pain, i.e. the bodily pleasures (for it is these that are of
this nature) and the excesses of them, in respect of which the self-indulgent
man is self-indulent. This is why the temperate man avoids these pleasures; for
even he has pleasures of his own.
13
But further (E) it is agreed that pain is bad and to
be avoided; for some pain is without qualification bad, and other pain is bad
because it is in some respect an impediment to us. Now the contrary of that
which is to be avoided, qua something to be avoided and bad, is good. Pleasure,
then, is necessarily a good. For the answer of Speusippus, that pleasure is
contrary both to pain and to good, as the greater is contrary both to the less
and to the equal, is not successful; since he would not say that pleasure is
essentially just a species of evil.
And (F) if certain pleasures are bad, that does not
prevent the chief good from being some pleasure, just as the chief good may be
some form of knowledge though certain kinds of knowledge are bad. Perhaps it is
even necessary, if each disposition has unimpeded activities, that, whether the
activity (if unimpeded) of all our dispositions or that of some one of them is
happiness, this should be the thing most worthy of our choice; and this
activity is pleasure. Thus the chief good would be some pleasure, though most
pleasures might perhaps be bad without qualification. And for this reason all
men think that the happy life is pleasant and weave pleasure into their ideal
of happiness-and reasonably too; for no activity is perfect when it is impeded,
and happiness is a perfect thing; this is why the happy man needs the goods of
the body and external goods, i.e. those of fortune, viz. in order that he may
not be impeded in these ways. Those who say that the victim on the rack or the
man who falls into great misfortunes is happy if he is good, are, whether they
mean to or not, talking nonsense. Now because we need fortune as well as other
things, some people think good fortune the same thing as happiness; but it is
not that, for even good fortune itself when in excess is an impediment, and
perhaps should then be no longer called good fortune; for its limit is fixed by
reference to happiness.
And indeed the fact that all things, both brutes and
men, pursue pleasure is an indication of its being somehow the chief good:
No voice is wholly lost that many peoples... But since
no one nature or state either is or is thought the best for all, neither do all
pursue the same pleasure; yet all pursue pleasure. And perhaps they actually
pursue not the pleasure they think they pursue nor that which they would say
they pursue, but the same pleasure; for all things have by nature something
divine in them. But the bodily pleasures have appropriated the name both
because we oftenest steer our course for them and because all men share in
them; thus because they alone are familiar, men think there are no others.
It is evident also that if pleasure, i.e. the activity
of our faculties, is not a good, it will not be the case that the happy man
lives a pleasant life; for to what end should he need pleasure, if it is not a
good but the happy man may even live a painful life? For pain is neither an
evil nor a good, if pleasure is not; why then should he avoid it? Therefore,
too, the life of the good man will not be pleasanter than that of any one else,
if his activities are not more pleasant.
14
(G) With regard to the bodily pleasures, those who say
that some pleasures are very much to be chosen, viz. the noble pleasures, but
not the bodily pleasures, i.e. those with which the self-indulgent man is
concerned, must consider why, then, the contrary pains are bad. For the
contrary of bad is good. Are the necessary pleasures good in the sense in which
even that which is not bad is good? Or are they good up to a point? Is it that
where you have states and processes of which there cannot be too much, there
cannot be too much of the corresponding pleasure, and that where there can be
too much of the one there can be too much of the other also? Now there can be
too much of bodily goods, and the bad man is bad by virtue of pursuing the
excess, not by virtue of pursuing the necessary pleasures (for all men enjoy in
some way or other both dainty foods and wines and sexual intercourse, but not
all men do so as they ought). The contrary is the case with pain; for he does
not avoid the excess of it, he avoids it altogether; and this is peculiar to
him, for the alternative to excess of pleasure is not pain, except to the man
who pursues this excess.
Since we should state not only the truth, but also the
cause of error-for this contributes towards producing conviction, since when a
reasonable explanation is given of why the false view appears true, this tends
to produce belief in the true view-therefore we must state why the bodily
pleasures appear the more worthy of choice. (a) Firstly, then, it is because
they expel pain; owing to the excesses of pain that men experience, they pursue
excessive and in general bodily pleasure as being a cure for the pain. Now
curative agencies produce intense feeling-which is the reason why they are
pursued-because they show up against the contrary pain. (Indeed pleasure is
thought not to be good for these two reasons, as has been said, viz. that (a)
some of them are activities belonging to a bad nature-either congenital, as in
the case of a brute, or due to habit, i.e. those of bad men; while (b) others
are meant to cure a defective nature, and it is better to be in a healthy state
than to be getting into it, but these arise during the process of being made
perfect and are therefore only incidentally good., b) Further, they are pursued
because of their violence by those who cannot enjoy other pleasures. (At all
events they go out of their way to manufacture thirsts somehow for themselves. When
these are harmless, the practice is irreproachable; when they are hurtful, it
is bad.) For they have nothing else to enjoy, and, besides, a neutral state is
painful to many people because of their nature. For the animal nature is always
in travail, as the students of natural science also testify, saying that sight
and hearing are painful; but we have become used to this, as they maintain. Similarly,
while, in youth, people are, owing to the growth that is going on, in a
situation like that of drunken men, and youth is pleasant, on the other hand
people of excitable nature always need relief; for even their body is ever in
torment owing to its special composition, and they are always under the
influence of violent desire; but pain is driven out both by the contrary
pleasure, and by any chance pleasure if it be strong; and for these reasons
they become self-indulgent and bad. But the pleasures that do not involve pains
do not admit of excess; and these are among the things pleasant by nature and
not incidentally. By things pleasant incidentally I mean those that act as
cures (for because as a result people are cured, through some action of the
part that remains healthy, for this reason the process is thought pleasant); by
things naturally pleasant I mean those that stimulate the action of the healthy
nature.
There is no one thing that is always pleasant, because
our nature is not simple but there is another element in us as well, inasmuch
as we are perishable creatures, so that if the one element does something, this
is unnatural to the other nature, and when the two elements are evenly
balanced, what is done seems neither painful nor pleasant; for if the nature of
anything were simple, the same action would always be most pleasant to it. This
is why God always enjoys a single and simple pleasure; for there is not only an
activity of movement but an activity of immobility, and pleasure is found more
in rest than in movement. But 'change in all things is sweet', as the poet
says, because of some vice; for as it is the vicious man that is changeable, so
the nature that needs change is vicious; for it is not simple nor good.
We have now discussed continence and incontinence, and
pleasure and pain, both what each is and in what sense some of them are good
and others bad; it remains to speak of friendship.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK VIII
1
After what we have said, a discussion of friendship
would naturally follow, since it is a virtue or implies virtue, and is besides
most necessary with a view to living. For without friends no one would choose
to live, though he had all other goods; even rich men and those in possession
of office and of dominating power are thought to need friends most of all; for
what is the use of such prosperity without the opportunity of beneficence,
which is exercised chiefly and in its most laudable form towards friends? Or
how can prosperity be guarded and preserved without friends? The greater it is,
the more exposed is it to risk. And in poverty and in other misfortunes men
think friends are the only refuge. It helps the young, too, to keep from error;
it aids older people by ministering to their needs and supplementing the
activities that are failing from weakness; those in the prime of life it
stimulates to noble actions-'two going together'-for with friends men are more
able both to think and to act. Again, parent seems by nature to feel it for
offspring and offspring for parent, not only among men but among birds and
among most animals; it is felt mutually by members of the same race, and
especially by men, whence we praise lovers of their fellowmen. We may even in
our travels how near and dear every man is to every other. Friendship seems too
to hold states together, and lawgivers to care more for it than for justice;
for unanimity seems to be something like friendship, and this they aim at most
of all, and expel faction as their worst enemy; and when men are friends they
have no need of justice, while when they are just they need friendship as well,
and the truest form of justice is thought to be a friendly quality.
But it is not only necessary but also noble; for we
praise those who love their friends, and it is thought to be a fine thing to
have many friends; and again we think it is the same people that are good men
and are friends.
Not a few things about friendship are matters of
debate. Some define it as a kind of likeness and say like people are friends,
whence come the sayings 'like to like', 'birds of a feather flock together',
and so on; others on the contrary say 'two of a trade never agree'. On this
very question they inquire for deeper and more physical causes, Euripides
saying that 'parched earth loves the rain, and stately heaven when filled with
rain loves to fall to earth', and Heraclitus that 'it is what opposes that
helps' and 'from different tones comes the fairest tune' and 'all things are
produced through strife'; while Empedocles, as well as others, expresses the
opposite view that like aims at like. The physical problems we may leave alone
(for they do not belong to the present inquiry); let us examine those which are
human and involve character and feeling, e.g. whether friendship can arise
between any two people or people cannot be friends if they are wicked, and
whether there is one species of friendship or more than one. Those who think
there is only one because it admits of degrees have relied on an inadequate
indication; for even things different in species admit of degree. We have
discussed this matter previously.
2
The kinds of friendship may perhaps be cleared up if
we first come to know the object of love. For not everything seems to be loved
but only the lovable, and this is good, pleasant, or useful; but it would seem
to be that by which some good or pleasure is produced that is useful, so that
it is the good and the useful that are lovable as ends. Do men love, then, the
good, or what is good for them? These sometimes clash. So too with regard to
the pleasant. Now it is thought that each loves what is good for himself, and
that the good is without qualification lovable, and what is good for each man
is lovable for him; but each man loves not what is good for him but what seems
good. This however will make no difference; we shall just have to say that this
is 'that which seems lovable'. Now there are three grounds on which people
love; of the love of lifeless objects we do not use the word 'friendship'; for
it is not mutual love, nor is there a wishing of good to the other (for it
would surely be ridiculous to wish wine well; if one wishes anything for it, it
is that it may keep, so that one may have it oneself); but to a friend we say
we ought to wish what is good for his sake. But to those who thus wish good we
ascribe only goodwill, if the wish is not reciprocated; goodwill when it is
reciprocal being friendship. Or must we add 'when it is recognized'? For many
people have goodwill to those whom they have not seen but judge to be good or
useful; and one of these might return this feeling. These people seem to bear
goodwill to each other; but how could one call them friends when they do not
know their mutual feelings? To be friends, then, the must be mutually
recognized as bearing goodwill and wishing well to each other for one of the
aforesaid reasons.
3
Now these reasons differ from each other in kind; so,
therefore, do the corresponding forms of love and friendship. There are therefore
three kinds of friendship, equal in number to the things that are lovable; for
with respect to each there is a mutual and recognized love, and those who love
each other wish well to each other in that respect in which they love one
another. Now those who love each other for their utility do not love each other
for themselves but in virtue of some good which they get from each other. So
too with those who love for the sake of pleasure; it is not for their character
that men love ready-witted people, but because they find them pleasant. Therefore
those who love for the sake of utility love for the sake of what is good for
themselves, and those who love for the sake of pleasure do so for the sake of
what is pleasant to themselves, and not in so far as the other is the person
loved but in so far as he is useful or pleasant. And thus these friendships are
only incidental; for it is not as being the man he is that the loved person is
loved, but as providing some good or pleasure. Such friendships, then, are
easily dissolved, if the parties do not remain like themselves; for if the one
party is no longer pleasant or useful the other ceases to love him.
Now the useful is not permanent but is always
changing. Thus when the motive of the friendship is done away, the friendship
is dissolved, inasmuch as it existed only for the ends in question. This kind
of friendship seems to exist chiefly between old people (for at that age people
pursue not the pleasant but the useful) and, of those who are in their prime or
young, between those who pursue utility. And such people do not live much with
each other either; for sometimes they do not even find each other pleasant;
therefore they do not need such companionship unless they are useful to each
other; for they are pleasant to each other only in so far as they rouse in each
other hopes of something good to come. Among such friendships people also class
the friendship of a host and guest. On the other hand the friendship of young
people seems to aim at pleasure; for they live under the guidance of emotion,
and pursue above all what is pleasant to themselves and what is immediately
before them; but with increasing age their pleasures become different. This is
why they quickly become friends and quickly cease to be so; their friendship
changes with the object that is found pleasant, and such pleasure alters
quickly. Young people are amorous too; for the greater part of the friendship
of love depends on emotion and aims at pleasure; this is why they fall in love
and quickly fall out of love, changing often within a single day. But these
people do wish to spend their days and lives together; for it is thus that they
attain the purpose of their friendship.
Perfect friendship is the friendship of men who are
good, and alike in virtue; for these wish well alike to each other qua good,
and they are good themselves. Now those who wish well to their friends for
their sake are most truly friends; for they do this by reason of own nature and
not incidentally; therefore their friendship lasts as long as they are good-and
goodness is an enduring thing. And each is good without qualification and to
his friend, for the good are both good without qualification and useful to each
other. So too they are pleasant; for the good are pleasant both without
qualification and to each other, since to each his own activities and others
like them are pleasurable, and the actions of the good are the same or like. And
such a friendship is as might be expected permanent, since there meet in it all
the qualities that friends should have. For all friendship is for the sake of
good or of pleasure-good or pleasure either in the abstract or such as will be
enjoyed by him who has the friendly feeling-and is based on a certain
resemblance; and to a friendship of good men all the qualities we have named
belong in virtue of the nature of the friends themselves; for in the case of
this kind of friendship the other qualities also are alike in both friends, and
that which is good without qualification is also without qualification
pleasant, and these are the most lovable qualities. Love and friendship
therefore are found most and in their best form between such men.
But it is natural that such friendships should be
infrequent; for such men are rare. Further, such friendship requires time and
familiarity; as the proverb says, men cannot know each other till they have
'eaten salt together'; nor can they admit each other to friendship or be
friends till each has been found lovable and been trusted by each. Those who
quickly show the marks of friendship to each other wish to be friends, but are
not friends unless they both are lovable and know the fact; for a wish for
friendship may arise quickly, but friendship does not.
4
This kind of friendship, then, is perfect both in
respect of duration and in all other respects, and in it each gets from each in
all respects the same as, or something like what, he gives; which is what ought
to happen between friends. Friendship for the sake of pleasure bears a
resemblance to this kind; for good people too are pleasant to each other. So
too does friendship for the sake of utility; for the good are also useful to
each other. Among men of these inferior sorts too, friendships are most
permanent when the friends get the same thing from each other (e.g. pleasure),
and not only that but also from the same source, as happens between readywitted
people, not as happens between lover and beloved. For these do not take
pleasure in the same things, but the one in seeing the beloved and the other in
receiving attentions from his lover; and when the bloom of youth is passing the
friendship sometimes passes too (for the one finds no pleasure in the sight of
the other, and the other gets no attentions from the first); but many lovers on
the other hand are constant, if familiarity has led them to love each other's
characters, these being alike. But those who exchange not pleasure but utility
in their amour are both less truly friends and less constant. Those who are
friends for the sake of utility part when the advantage is at an end; for they
were lovers not of each other but of profit.
For the sake of pleasure or utility, then, even bad
men may be friends of each other, or good men of bad, or one who is neither
good nor bad may be a friend to any sort of person, but for their own sake
clearly only good men can be friends; for bad men do not delight in each other
unless some advantage come of the relation.
The friendship of the good too and this alone is proof
against slander; for it is not easy to trust any one talk about a man who has
long been tested by oneself; and it is among good men that trust and the
feeling that 'he would never wrong me' and all the other things that are
demanded in true friendship are found. In the other kinds of friendship,
however, there is nothing to prevent these evils arising. For men apply the
name of friends even to those whose motive is utility, in which sense states
are said to be friendly (for the alliances of states seem to aim at advantage),
and to those who love each other for the sake of pleasure, in which sense
children are called friends. Therefore we too ought perhaps to call such people
friends, and say that there are several kinds of friendship-firstly and in the
proper sense that of good men qua good, and by analogy the other kinds; for it
is in virtue of something good and something akin to what is found in true
friendship that they are friends, since even the pleasant is good for the
lovers of pleasure. But these two kinds of friendship are not often united, nor
do the same people become friends for the sake of utility and of pleasure; for
things that are only incidentally connected are not often coupled together.
Friendship being divided into these kinds, bad men
will be friends for the sake of pleasure or of utility, being in this respect
like each other, but good men will be friends for their own sake, i.e. in
virtue of their goodness. These, then, are friends without qualification; the
others are friends incidentally and through a resemblance to these.
5
As in regard to the virtues some men are called good
in respect of a state of character, others in respect of an activity, so too in
the case of friendship; for those who live together delight in each other and
confer benefits on each other, but those who are asleep or locally separated
are not performing, but are disposed to perform, the activities of friendship;
distance does not break off the friendship absolutely, but only the activity of
it. But if the absence is lasting, it seems actually to make men forget their
friendship; hence the saying 'out of sight, out of mind'. Neither old people
nor sour people seem to make friends easily; for there is little that is
pleasant in them, and no one can spend his days with one whose company is painful,
or not pleasant, since nature seems above all to avoid the painful and to aim
at the pleasant. Those, however, who approve of each other but do not live
together seem to be well-disposed rather than actual friends. For there is
nothing so characteristic of friends as living together (since while it people
who are in need that desire benefits, even those who are supremely happy desire
to spend their days together; for solitude suits such people least of all); but
people cannot live together if they are not pleasant and do not enjoy the same
things, as friends who are companions seem to do.
The truest friendship, then, is that of the good, as
we have frequently said; for that which is without qualification good or
pleasant seems to be lovable and desirable, and for each person that which is
good or pleasant to him; and the good man is lovable and desirable to the good
man for both these reasons. Now it looks as if love were a feeling, friendship
a state of character; for love may be felt just as much towards lifeless
things, but mutual love involves choice and choice springs from a state of
character; and men wish well to those whom they love, for their sake, not as a
result of feeling but as a result of a state of character. And in loving a
friend men love what is good for themselves; for the good man in becoming a
friend becomes a good to his friend. Each, then, both loves what is good for
himself, and makes an equal return in goodwill and in pleasantness; for
friendship is said to be equality, and both of these are found most in the
friendship of the good.
6
Between sour and elderly people friendship arises less
readily, inasmuch as they are less good-tempered and enjoy companionship less;
for these are thou to be the greatest marks of friendship productive of it. This
is why, while men become friends quickly, old men do not; it is because men do
not become friends with those in whom they do not delight; and similarly sour
people do not quickly make friends either. But such men may bear goodwill to
each other; for they wish one another well and aid one another in need; but
they are hardly friends because they do not spend their days together nor
delight in each other, and these are thought the greatest marks of friendship.
One cannot be a friend to many people in the sense of
having friendship of the perfect type with them, just as one cannot be in love
with many people at once (for love is a sort of excess of feeling, and it is
the nature of such only to be felt towards one person); and it is not easy for
many people at the same time to please the same person very greatly, or perhaps
even to be good in his eyes. One must, too, acquire some experience of the
other person and become familiar with him, and that is very hard. But with a
view to utility or pleasure it is possible that many people should please one;
for many people are useful or pleasant, and these services take little time.
Of these two kinds that which is for the sake of
pleasure is the more like friendship, when both parties get the same things
from each other and delight in each other or in the things, as in the
friendships of the young; for generosity is more found in such friendships. Friendship
based on utility is for the commercially minded. People who are supremely
happy, too, have no need of useful friends, but do need pleasant friends; for
they wish to live with some one and, though they can endure for a short time
what is painful, no one could put up with it continuously, nor even with the
Good itself if it were painful to him; this is why they look out for friends
who are pleasant. Perhaps they should look out for friends who, being pleasant,
are also good, and good for them too; for so they will have all the
characteristics that friends should have.
People in positions of authority seem to have friends
who fall into distinct classes; some people are useful to them and others are
pleasant, but the same people are rarely both; for they seek neither those
whose pleasantness is accompanied by virtue nor those whose utility is with a
view to noble objects, but in their desire for pleasure they seek for
ready-witted people, and their other friends they choose as being clever at
doing what they are told, and these characteristics are rarely combined. Now we
have said that the good man is at the same time pleasant and useful; but such a
man does not become the friend of one who surpasses him in station, unless he
is surpassed also in virtue; if this is not so, he does not establish equality
by being proportionally exceeded in both respects. But people who surpass him
in both respects are not so easy to find.
However that may be, the aforesaid friendships involve
equality; for the friends get the same things from one another and wish the
same things for one another, or exchange one thing for another, e.g. pleasure
for utility; we have said, however, that they are both less truly friendships
and less permanent.
But it is from their likeness and their unlikeness to
the same thing that they are thought both to be and not to be friendships. It
is by their likeness to the friendship of virtue that they seem to be
friendships (for one of them involves pleasure and the other utility, and these
characteristics belong to the friendship of virtue as well); while it is
because the friendship of virtue is proof against slander and permanent, while
these quickly change (besides differing from the former in many other
respects), that they appear not to be friendships; i.e. it is because of their
unlikeness to the friendship of virtue.
7
But there is another kind of friendship, viz. that
which involves an inequality between the parties, e.g. that of father to son
and in general of elder to younger, that of man to wife and in general that of
ruler to subject. And these friendships differ also from each other; for it is
not the same that exists between parents and children and between rulers and
subjects, nor is even that of father to son the same as that of son to father,
nor that of husband to wife the same as that of wife to husband. For the virtue
and the function of each of these is different, and so are the reasons for
which they love; the love and the friendship are therefore different also. Each
party, then, neither gets the same from the other, nor ought to seek it; but
when children render to parents what they ought to render to those who brought
them into the world, and parents render what they should to their children, the
friendship of such persons will be abiding and excellent. In all friendships
implying inequality the love also should be proportional, i.e. the better
should be more loved than he loves, and so should the more useful, and
similarly in each of the other cases; for when the love is in proportion to the
merit of the parties, then in a sense arises equality, which is certainly held
to be characteristic of friendship.
But equality does not seem to take the same form in
acts of justice and in friendship; for in acts of justice what is equal in the
primary sense is that which is in proportion to merit, while quantitative equality
is secondary, but in friendship quantitative equality is primary and proportion
to merit secondary. This becomes clear if there is a great interval in respect
of virtue or vice or wealth or anything else between the parties; for then they
are no longer friends, and do not even expect to be so. And this is most
manifest in the case of the gods; for they surpass us most decisively in all
good things. But it is clear also in the case of kings; for with them, too, men
who are much their inferiors do not expect to be friends; nor do men of no
account expect to be friends with the best or wisest men. In such cases it is
not possible to define exactly up to what point friends can remain friends; for
much can be taken away and friendship remain, but when one party is removed to
a great distance, as God is, the possibility of friendship ceases. This is in
fact the origin of the question whether friends really wish for their friends
the greatest goods, e.g. that of being gods; since in that case their friends will
no longer be friends to them, and therefore will not be good things for them
(for friends are good things). The answer is that if we were right in saying
that friend wishes good to friend for his sake, his friend must remain the sort
of being he is, whatever that may be; therefore it is for him oily so long as
he remains a man that he will wish the greatest goods. But perhaps not all the
greatest goods; for it is for himself most of all that each man wishes what is
good.
8
Most people seem, owing to ambition, to wish to be
loved rather than to love; which is why most men love flattery; for the
flatterer is a friend in an inferior position, or pretends to be such and to
love more than he is loved; and being loved seems to be akin to being honoured,
and this is what most people aim at. But it seems to be not for its own sake
that people choose honour, but incidentally. For most people enjoy being
honoured by those in positions of authority because of their hopes (for they
think that if they want anything they will get it from them; and therefore they
delight in honour as a token of favour to come); while those who desire honour
from good men, and men who know, are aiming at confirming their own opinion of
themselves; they delight in honour, therefore, because they believe in their
own goodness on the strength of the judgement of those who speak about them. In
being loved, on the other hand, people delight for its own sake; whence it
would seem to be better than being honoured, and friendship to be desirable in
itself. But it seems to lie in loving rather than in being loved, as is
indicated by the delight mothers take in loving; for some mothers hand over
their children to be brought up, and so long as they know their fate they love
them and do not seek to be loved in return (if they cannot have both), but seem
to be satisfied if they see them prospering; and they themselves love their
children even if these owing to their ignorance give them nothing of a mother's
due. Now since friendship depends more on loving, and it is those who love
their friends that are praised, loving seems to be the characteristic virtue of
friends, so that it is only those in whom this is found in due measure that are
lasting friends, and only their friendship that endures.
It is in this way more than any other that even
unequals can be friends; they can be equalized. Now equality and likeness are
friendship, and especially the likeness of those who are like in virtue; for
being steadfast in themselves they hold fast to each other, and neither ask nor
give base services, but (one may say) even prevent them; for it is
characteristic of good men neither to go wrong themselves nor to let their
friends do so. But wicked men have no steadfastness (for they do not remain
even like to themselves), but become friends for a short time because they
delight in each other's wickedness. Friends who are useful or pleasant last
longer; i.e. as long as they provide each other with enjoyments or advantages. Friendship
for utility's sake seems to be that which most easily exists between
contraries, e.g. between poor and rich, between ignorant and learned; for what
a man actually lacks he aims at, and one gives something else in return. But
under this head, too, might bring lover and beloved, beautiful and ugly. This
is why lovers sometimes seem ridiculous, when they demand to be loved as they
love; if they are equally lovable their claim can perhaps be justified, but
when they have nothing lovable about them it is ridiculous. Perhaps, however,
contrary does not even aim at contrary by its own nature, but only
incidentally, the desire being for what is intermediate; for that is what is
good, e.g. it is good for the dry not to become wet but to come to the
intermediate state, and similarly with the hot and in all other cases. These
subjects we may dismiss; for they are indeed somewhat foreign to our inquiry.
9
Friendship and justice seem, as we have said at the
outset of our discussion, to be concerned with the same objects and exhibited
between the same persons. For in every community there is thought to be some
form of justice, and friendship too; at least men address as friends their
fellow-voyagers and fellowsoldiers, and so too those associated with them in
any other kind of community. And the extent of their association is the extent
of their friendship, as it is the extent to which justice exists between them. And
the proverb 'what friends have is common property' expresses the truth; for
friendship depends on community. Now brothers and comrades have all things in
common, but the others to whom we have referred have definite things in
common-some more things, others fewer; for of friendships, too, some are more
and others less truly friendships. And the claims of justice differ too; the
duties of parents to children, and those of brothers to each other are not the
same, nor those of comrades and those of fellow-citizens, and so, too, with the
other kinds of friendship. There is a difference, therefore, also between the
acts that are unjust towards each of these classes of associates, and the
injustice increases by being exhibited towards those who are friends in a
fuller sense; e.g. it is a more terrible thing to defraud a comrade than a
fellow-citizen, more terrible not to help a brother than a stranger, and more
terrible to wound a father than any one else. And the demands of justice also
seem to increase with the intensity of the friendship, which implies that
friendship and justice exist between the same persons and have an equal
extension.
Now all forms of community are like parts of the
political community; for men journey together with a view to some particular
advantage, and to provide something that they need for the purposes of life;
and it is for the sake of advantage that the political community too seems both
to have come together originally and to endure, for this is what legislators
aim at, and they call just that which is to the common advantage. Now the other
communities aim at advantage bit by bit, e.g. sailors at what is advantageous
on a voyage with a view to making money or something of the kind,
fellow-soldiers at what is advantageous in war, whether it is wealth or victory
or the taking of a city that they seek, and members of tribes and demes act
similarly (Some communities seem to arise for the sake or pleasure, viz.
religious guilds and social clubs; for these exist respectively for the sake of
offering sacrifice and of companionship. But all these seem to fall under the
political community; for it aims not at present advantage but at what is
advantageous for life as a whole), offering sacrifices and arranging gatherings
for the purpose, and assigning honours to the gods, and providing pleasant
relaxations for themselves. For the ancient sacrifices and gatherings seem to
take place after the harvest as a sort of firstfruits, because it was at these
seasons that people had most leisure. All the communities, then, seem to be
parts of the political community; and the particular kinds friendship will
correspond to the particular kinds of community.
10
There are three kinds of constitution, and an equal
number of deviation-forms--perversions, as it were, of them. The constitutions
are monarchy, aristocracy, and thirdly that which is based on a property
qualification, which it seems appropriate to call timocratic, though most
people are wont to call it polity. The best of these is monarchy, the worst
timocracy. The deviation from monarchy is tyrany; for both are forms of one-man
rule, but there is the greatest difference between them; the tyrant looks to
his own advantage, the king to that of his subjects. For a man is not a king
unless he is sufficient to himself and excels his subjects in all good things;
and such a man needs nothing further; therefore he will not look to his own
interests but to those of his subjects; for a king who is not like that would
be a mere titular king. Now tyranny is the very contrary of this; the tyrant
pursues his own good. And it is clearer in the case of tyranny that it is the
worst deviation-form; but it is the contrary of the best that is worst. Monarchy
passes over into tyranny; for tyranny is the evil form of one-man rule and the
bad king becomes a tyrant. Aristocracy passes over into oligarchy by the
badness of the rulers, who distribute contrary to equity what belongs to the
city-all or most of the good things to themselves, and office always to the
same people, paying most regard to wealth; thus the rulers are few and are bad
men instead of the most worthy. Timocracy passes over into democracy; for these
are coterminous, since it is the ideal even of timocracy to be the rule of the
majority, and all who have the property qualification count as equal. Democracy
is the least bad of the deviations; for in its case the form of constitution is
but a slight deviation. These then are the changes to which constitutions are
most subject; for these are the smallest and easiest transitions.
One may find resemblances to the constitutions and, as
it were, patterns of them even in households. For the association of a father
with his sons bears the form of monarchy, since the father cares for his
children; and this is why Homer calls Zeus 'father'; it is the ideal of
monarchy to be paternal rule. But among the Persians the rule of the father is
tyrannical; they use their sons as slaves. Tyrannical too is the rule of a
master over slaves; for it is the advantage of the master that is brought about
in it. Now this seems to be a correct form of government, but the Persian type
is perverted; for the modes of rule appropriate to different relations are
diverse. The association of man and wife seems to be aristocratic; for the man
rules in accordance with his worth, and in those matters in which a man should
rule, but the matters that befit a woman he hands over to her. If the man rules
in everything the relation passes over into oligarchy; for in doing so he is
not acting in accordance with their respective worth, and not ruling in virtue
of his superiority. Sometimes, however, women rule, because they are heiresses;
so their rule is not in virtue of excellence but due to wealth and power, as in
oligarchies. The association of brothers is like timocracy; for they are equal,
except in so far as they differ in age; hence if they differ much in age, the
friendship is no longer of the fraternal type. Democracy is found chiefly in
masterless dwellings (for here every one is on an equality), and in those in
which the ruler is weak and every one has licence to do as he pleases.
11
Each of the constitutions may be seen to involve
friendship just in so far as it involves justice. The friendship between a king
and his subjects depends on an excess of benefits conferred; for he confers
benefits on his subjects if being a good man he cares for them with a view to
their well-being, as a shepherd does for his sheep (whence Homer called
Agamemnon 'shepherd of the peoples'). Such too is the friendship of a father,
though this exceeds the other in the greatness of the benefits conferred; for
he is responsible for the existence of his children, which is thought the
greatest good, and for their nurture and upbringing.
These things are ascribed to ancestors as well. Further,
by nature a father tends to rule over his sons, ancestors over descendants, a
king over his subjects. These friendships imply superiority of one party over
the other, which is why ancestors are honoured. The justice therefore that
exists between persons so related is not the same on both sides but is in every
case proportioned to merit; for that is true of the friendship as well. The
friendship of man and wife, again, is the same that is found in an aristocracy;
for it is in accordance with virtue the better gets more of what is good, and
each gets what befits him; and so, too, with the justice in these relations. The
friendship of brothers is like that of comrades; for they are equal and of like
age, and such persons are for the most part like in their feelings and their
character. Like this, too, is the friendship appropriate to timocratic
government; for in such a constitution the ideal is for the citizens to be
equal and fair; therefore rule is taken in turn, and on equal terms; and the
friendship appropriate here will correspond.
But in the deviation-forms, as justice hardly exists,
so too does friendship. It exists least in the worst form; in tyranny there is
little or no friendship. For where there is nothing common to ruler and ruled,
there is not friendship either, since there is not justice; e.g. between
craftsman and tool, soul and body, master and slave; the latter in each case is
benefited by that which uses it, but there is no friendship nor justice towards
lifeless things. But neither is there friendship towards a horse or an ox, nor
to a slave qua slave. For there is nothing common to the two parties; the slave
is a living tool and the tool a lifeless slave. Qua slave then, one cannot be
friends with him. But qua man one can; for there seems to be some justice
between any man and any other who can share in a system of law or be a party to
an agreement; therefore there can also be friendship with him in so far as he
is a man. Therefore while in tyrannies friendship and justice hardly exist, in
democracies they exist more fully; for where the citizens are equal they have
much in common.
12
Every form of friendship, then, involves association,
as has been said. One might, however, mark off from the rest both the
friendship of kindred and that of comrades. Those of fellow-citizens,
fellow-tribesmen, fellow-voyagers, and the like are more like mere friendships
of association; for they seem to rest on a sort of compact. With them we might
class the friendship of host and guest. The friendship of kinsmen itself, while
it seems to be of many kinds, appears to depend in every case on parental
friendship; for parents love their children as being a part of themselves, and
children their parents as being something originating from them. Now (1) arents
know their offspring better than there children know that they are their
children, and (2) the originator feels his offspring to be his own more than
the offspring do their begetter; for the product belongs to the producer (e.g.
a tooth or hair or anything else to him whose it is), but the producer does not
belong to the product, or belongs in a less degree. And (3) the length of time
produces the same result; parents love their children as soon as these are
born, but children love their parents only after time has elapsed and they have
acquired understanding or the power of discrimination by the senses. From these
considerations it is also plain why mothers love more than fathers do. Parents,
then, love their children as themselves (for their issue are by virtue of their
separate existence a sort of other selves), while children love their parents
as being born of them, and brothers love each other as being born of the same
parents; for their identity with them makes them identical with each other
(which is the reason why people talk of 'the same blood', 'the same stock', and
so on). They are, therefore, in a sense the same thing, though in separate
individuals. Two things that contribute greatly to friendship are a common
upbringing and similarity of age; for 'two of an age take to each other', and
people brought up together tend to be comrades; whence the friendship of
brothers is akin to that of comrades. And cousins and other kinsmen are bound
up together by derivation from brothers, viz. by being derived from the same
parents. They come to be closer together or farther apart by virtue of the
nearness or distance of the original ancestor.
The friendship of children to parents, and of men to
gods, is a relation to them as to something good and superior; for they have
conferred the greatest benefits, since they are the causes of their being and
of their nourishment, and of their education from their birth; and this kind of
friendship possesses pleasantness and utility also, more than that of
strangers, inasmuch as their life is lived more in common. The friendship of
brothers has the characteristics found in that of comrades (and especially when
these are good), and in general between people who are like each other,
inasmuch as they belong more to each other and start with a love for each other
from their very birth, and inasmuch as those born of the same parents and
brought up together and similarly educated are more akin in character; and the
test of time has been applied most fully and convincingly in their case.
Between other kinsmen friendly relations are found in
due proportion. Between man and wife friendship seems to exist by nature; for
man is naturally inclined to form couples-even more than to form cities,
inasmuch as the household is earlier and more necessary than the city, and
reproduction is more common to man with the animals. With the other animals the
union extends only to this point, but human beings live together not only for
the sake of reproduction but also for the various purposes of life; for from
the start the functions are divided, and those of man and woman are different;
so they help each other by throwing their peculiar gifts into the common stock.
It is for these reasons that both utility and pleasure seem to be found in this
kind of friendship. But this friendship may be based also on virtue, if the
parties are good; for each has its own virtue and they will delight in the
fact. And children seem to be a bond of union (which is the reason why
childless people part more easily); for children are a good common to both and
what is common holds them together.
How man and wife and in general friend and friend
ought mutually to behave seems to be the same question as how it is just for
them to behave; for a man does not seem to have the same duties to a friend, a
stranger, a comrade, and a schoolfellow.
13
There are three kinds of friendship, as we said at the
outset of our inquiry, and in respect of each some are friends on an equality
and others by virtue of a superiority (for not only can equally good men become
friends but a better man can make friends with a worse, and similarly in
friendships of pleasure or utility the friends may be equal or unequal in the
benefits they confer). This being so, equals must effect the required
equalization on a basis of equality in love and in all other respects, while
unequals must render what is in proportion to their superiority or inferiority.
Complaints and reproaches arise either only or chiefly in the friendship of
utility, and this is only to be expected. For those who are friends on the
ground of virtue are anxious to do well by each other (since that is a mark of
virtue and of friendship), and between men who are emulating each other in this
there cannot be complaints or quarrels; no one is offended by a man who loves
him and does well by him-if he is a person of nice feeling he takes his revenge
by doing well by the other. And the man who excels the other in the services he
renders will not complain of his friend, since he gets what he aims at; for
each man desires what is good. Nor do complaints arise much even in friendships
of pleasure; for both get at the same time what they desire, if they enjoy
spending their time together; and even a man who complained of another for not
affording him pleasure would seem ridiculous, since it is in his power not to
spend his days with him.
But the friendship of utility is full of complaints;
for as they use each other for their own interests they always want to get the
better of the bargain, and think they have got less than they should, and blame
their partners because they do not get all they 'want and deserve'; and those
who do well by others cannot help them as much as those whom they benefit want.
Now it seems that, as justice is of two kinds, one
unwritten and the other legal, one kind of friendship of utility is moral and
the other legal. And so complaints arise most of all when men do not dissolve
the relation in the spirit of the same type of friendship in which they
contracted it. The legal type is that which is on fixed terms; its purely
commercial variety is on the basis of immediate payment, while the more liberal
variety allows time but stipulates for a definite quid pro quo. In this variety
the debt is clear and not ambiguous, but in the postponement it contains an
element of friendliness; and so some states do not allow suits arising out of
such agreements, but think men who have bargained on a basis of credit ought to
accept the consequences. The moral type is not on fixed terms; it makes a gift,
or does whatever it does, as to a friend; but one expects to receive as much or
more, as having not given but lent; and if a man is worse off when the relation
is dissolved than he was when it was contracted he will complain. This happens
because all or most men, while they wish for what is noble, choose what is
advantageous; now it is noble to do well by another without a view to
repayment, but it is the receiving of benefits that is advantageous. Therefore
if we can we should return the equivalent of what we have received (for we must
not make a man our friend against his will; we must recognize that we were
mistaken at the first and took a benefit from a person we should not have taken
it from-since it was not from a friend, nor from one who did it just for the
sake of acting so-and we must settle up just as if we had been benefited on fixed
terms). Indeed, one would agree to repay if one could (if one could not, even
the giver would not have expected one to do so); therefore if it is possible we
must repay. But at the outset we must consider the man by whom we are being
benefited and on what terms he is acting, in order that we may accept the
benefit on these terms, or else decline it.
It is disputable whether we ought to measure a service
by its utility to the receiver and make the return with a view to that, or by
the benevolence of the giver. For those who have received say they have
received from their benefactors what meant little to the latter and what they
might have got from others-minimizing the service; while the givers, on the
contrary, say it was the biggest thing they had, and what could not have been
got from others, and that it was given in times of danger or similar need. Now
if the friendship is one that aims at utility, surely the advantage to the
receiver is the measure. For it is he that asks for the service, and the other
man helps him on the assumption that he will receive the equivalent; so the
assistance has been precisely as great as the advantage to the receiver, and
therefore he must return as much as he has received, or even more (for that
would be nobler). In friendships based on virtue on the other hand, complaints
do not arise, but the purpose of the doer is a sort of measure; for in purpose
lies the essential element of virtue and character.
14
Differences arise also in friendships based on
superiority; for each expects to get more out of them, but when this happens
the friendship is dissolved. Not only does the better man think he ought to get
more, since more should be assigned to a good man, but the more useful
similarly expects this; they say a useless man should not get as much as they
should, since it becomes an act of public service and not a friendship if the
proceeds of the friendship do not answer to the worth of the benefits
conferred. For they think that, as in a commercial partnership those who put
more in get more out, so it should be in friendship. But the man who is in a
state of need and inferiority makes the opposite claim; they think it is the
part of a good friend to help those who are in need; what, they say, is the use
of being the friend of a good man or a powerful man, if one is to get nothing
out of it?
At all events it seems that each party is justified in
his claim, and that each should get more out of the friendship than the
other-not more of the same thing, however, but the superior more honour and the
inferior more gain; for honour is the prize of virtue and of beneficence, while
gain is the assistance required by inferiority.
It seems to be so in constitutional arrangements also;
the man who contributes nothing good to the common stock is not honoured; for
what belongs to the public is given to the man who benefits the public, and
honour does belong to the public. It is not possible to get wealth from the
common stock and at the same time honour. For no one puts up with the smaller
share in all things; therefore to the man who loses in wealth they assign
honour and to the man who is willing to be paid, wealth, since the proportion
to merit equalizes the parties and preserves the friendship, as we have said. This
then is also the way in which we should associate with unequals; the man who is
benefited in respect of wealth or virtue must give honour in return, repaying
what he can. For friendship asks a man to do what he can, not what is
proportional to the merits of the case; since that cannot always be done, e.g.
in honours paid to the gods or to parents; for no one could ever return to them
the equivalent of what he gets, but the man who serves them to the utmost of
his power is thought to be a good man. This is why it would not seem open to a
man to disown his father (though a father may disown his son); being in debt,
he should repay, but there is nothing by doing which a son will have done the
equivalent of what he has received, so that he is always in debt. But creditors
can remit a debt; and a father can therefore do so too. At the same time it is
thought that presumably no one would repudiate a son who was not far gone in
wickedness; for apart from the natural friendship of father and son it is human
nature not to reject a son's assistance. But the son, if he is wicked, will
naturally avoid aiding his father, or not be zealous about it; for most people
wish to get benefits, but avoid doing them, as a thing unprofitable.-So much
for these questions.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK IX
1
In all friendships between dissimilars it is, as we
have said, proportion that equalizes the parties and preserves the friendship;
e.g. in the political form of friendship the shoemaker gets a return for his
shoes in proportion to his worth, and the weaver and all other craftsmen do the
same. Now here a common measure has been provided in the form of money, and
therefore everything is referred to this and measured by this; but in the
friendship of lovers sometimes the lover complains that his excess of love is
not met by love in return though perhaps there is nothing lovable about him),
while often the beloved complains that the lover who formerly promised
everything now performs nothing. Such incidents happen when the lover loves the
beloved for the sake of pleasure while the beloved loves the lover for the sake
of utility, and they do not both possess the qualities expected of them. If
these be the objects of the friendship it is dissolved when they do not get the
things that formed the motives of their love; for each did not love the other
person himself but the qualities he had, and these were not enduring; that is
why the friendships also are transient. But the love of characters, as has been
said, endures because it is self-dependent. Differences arise when what they
get is something different and not what they desire; for it is like getting
nothing at all when we do not get what we aim at; compare the story of the
person who made promises to a lyre-player, promising him the more, the better
he sang, but in the morning, when the other demanded the fulfilment of his
promises, said that he had given pleasure for pleasure. Now if this had been
what each wanted, all would have been well; but if the one wanted enjoyment but
the other gain, and the one has what he wants while the other has not, the
terms of the association will not have been properly fulfilled; for what each
in fact wants is what he attends to, and it is for the sake of that that that
he will give what he has.
But who is to fix the worth of the service; he who
makes the sacrifice or he who has got the advantage? At any rate the other
seems to leave it to him. This is what they say Protagoras used to do; whenever
he taught anything whatsoever, he bade the learner assess the value of the
knowledge, and accepted the amount so fixed. But in such matters some men
approve of the saying 'let a man have his fixed reward'. Those who get the
money first and then do none of the things they said they would, owing to the
extravagance of their promises, naturally find themselves the objects of
complaint; for they do not fulfil what they agreed to. The sophists are perhaps
compelled to do this because no one would give money for the things they do know.
These people then, if they do not do what they have been paid for, are
naturally made the objects of complaint.
But where there is no contract of service, those who
give up something for the sake of the other party cannot (as we have said) be
complained of (for that is the nature of the friendship of virtue), and the
return to them must be made on the basis of their purpose (for it is purpose
that is the characteristic thing in a friend and in virtue). And so too, it
seems, should one make a return to those with whom one has studied philosophy;
for their worth cannot be measured against money, and they can get no honour
which will balance their services, but still it is perhaps enough, as it is
with the gods and with one's parents, to give them what one can.
If the gift was not of this sort, but was made with a
view to a return, it is no doubt preferable that the return made should be one
that seems fair to both parties, but if this cannot be achieved, it would seem
not only necessary that the person who gets the first service should fix the
reward, but also just; for if the other gets in return the equivalent of the
advantage the beneficiary has received, or the price lie would have paid for
the pleasure, he will have got what is fair as from the other.
We see this happening too with things put up for sale,
and in some places there are laws providing that no actions shall arise out of
voluntary contracts, on the assumption that one should settle with a person to
whom one has given credit, in the spirit in which one bargained with him. The
law holds that it is more just that the person to whom credit was given should
fix the terms than that the person who gave credit should do so. For most
things are not assessed at the same value by those who have them and those who
want them; each class values highly what is its own and what it is offering;
yet the return is made on the terms fixed by the receiver. But no doubt the
receiver should assess a thing not at what it seems worth when he has it, but
at what he assessed it at before he had it.
2
A further problem is set by such questions as, whether
one should in all things give the preference to one's father and obey him, or
whether when one is ill one should trust a doctor, and when one has to elect a
general should elect a man of military skill; and similarly whether one should
render a service by preference to a friend or to a good man, and should show
gratitude to a benefactor or oblige a friend, if one cannot do both.
All such questions are hard, are they not, to decide
with precision? For they admit of many variations of all sorts in respect both
of the magnitude of the service and of its nobility necessity. But that we
should not give the preference in all things to the same person is plain enough;
and we must for the most part return benefits rather than oblige friends, as we
must pay back a loan to a creditor rather than make one to a friend. But
perhaps even this is not always true; e.g. should a man who has been ransomed
out of the hands of brigands ransom his ransomer in return, whoever he may be
(or pay him if he has not been captured but demands payment) or should he
ransom his father? It would seem that he should ransom his father in preference
even to himself. As we have said, then, generally the debt should be paid, but
if the gift is exceedingly noble or exceedingly necessary, one should defer to
these considerations. For sometimes it is not even fair to return the
equivalent of what one has received, when the one man has done a service to one
whom he knows to be good, while the other makes a return to one whom he
believes to be bad. For that matter, one should sometimes not lend in return to
one who has lent to oneself; for the one person lent to a good man, expecting
to recover his loan, while the other has no hope of recovering from one who is
believed to be bad. Therefore if the facts really are so, the demand is not
fair; and if they are not, but people think they are, they would be held to be
doing nothing strange in refusing. As we have often pointed out, then,
discussions about feelings and actions have just as much definiteness as their
subject-matter.
That we should not make the same return to every one,
nor give a father the preference in everything, as one does not sacrifice
everything to Zeus, is plain enough; but since we ought to render different
things to parents, brothers, comrades, and benefactors, we ought to render to
each class what is appropriate and becoming. And this is what people seem in
fact to do; to marriages they invite their kinsfolk; for these have a part in
the family and therefore in the doings that affect the family; and at funerals
also they think that kinsfolk, before all others, should meet, for the same
reason. And it would be thought that in the matter of food we should help our
parents before all others, since we owe our own nourishment to them, and it is
more honourable to help in this respect the authors of our being even before
ourselves; and honour too one should give to one's parents as one does to the
gods, but not any and every honour; for that matter one should not give the
same honour to one's father and one's mother, nor again should one give them
the honour due to a philosopher or to a general, but the honour due to a
father, or again to a mother. To all older persons, too, one should give honour
appropriate to their age, by rising to receive them and finding seats for them
and so on; while to comrades and brothers one should allow freedom of speech
and common use of all things. To kinsmen, too, and fellow-tribesmen and
fellow-citizens and to every other class one should always try to assign what
is appropriate, and to compare the claims of each class with respect to
nearness of relation and to virtue or usefulness. The comparison is easier when
the persons belong to the same class, and more laborious when they are
different. Yet we must not on that account shrink from the task, but decide the
question as best we can.
3
Another question that arises is whether friendships
should or should not be broken off when the other party does not remain the
same. Perhaps we may say that there is nothing strange in breaking off a
friendship based on utility or pleasure, when our friends no longer have these
attributes. For it was of these attributes that we were the friends; and when
these have failed it is reasonable to love no longer. But one might complain of
another if, when he loved us for our usefulness or pleasantness, he pretended
to love us for our character. For, as we said at the outset, most differences
arise between friends when they are not friends in the spirit in which they
think they are. So when a man has deceived himself and has thought he was being
loved for his character, when the other person was doing nothing of the kind,
he must blame himself; when he has been deceived by the pretences of the other
person, it is just that he should complain against his deceiver; he will
complain with more justice than one does against people who counterfeit the
currency, inasmuch as the wrongdoing is concerned with something more valuable.
But if one accepts another man as good, and he turns
out badly and is seen to do so, must one still love him? Surely it is
impossible, since not everything can be loved, but only what is good. What is
evil neither can nor should be loved; for it is not one's duty to be a lover of
evil, nor to become like what is bad; and we have said that like is dear like. Must
the friendship, then, be forthwith broken off? Or is this not so in all cases,
but only when one's friends are incurable in their wickedness? If they are
capable of being reformed one should rather come to the assistance of their
character or their property, inasmuch as this is better and more characteristic
of friendship. But a man who breaks off such a friendship would seem to be
doing nothing strange; for it was not to a man of this sort that he was a
friend; when his friend has changed, therefore, and he is unable to save him,
he gives him up.
But if one friend remained the same while the other
became better and far outstripped him in virtue, should the latter treat the
former as a friend? Surely he cannot. When the interval is great this becomes
most plain, e.g. in the case of childish friendships; if one friend remained a
child in intellect while the other became a fully developed man, how could they
be friends when they neither approved of the same things nor delighted in and
were pained by the same things? For not even with regard to each other will
their tastes agree, and without this (as we saw) they cannot be friends; for
they cannot live together. But we have discussed these matters.
Should he, then, behave no otherwise towards him than
he would if he had never been his friend? Surely he should keep a remembrance
of their former intimacy, and as we think we ought to oblige friends rather
than strangers, so to those who have been our friends we ought to make some
allowance for our former friendship, when the breach has not been due to excess
of wickedness.
4
Friendly relations with one's neighbours, and the
marks by which friendships are defined, seem to have proceeded from a man's
relations to himself. For (1) we define a friend as one who wishes and does
what is good, or seems so, for the sake of his friend, or (2) as one who wishes
his friend to exist and live, for his sake; which mothers do to their children,
and friends do who have come into conflict. And (3) others define him as one
who lives with and (4) has the same tastes as another, or (5) one who grieves
and rejoices with his friend; and this too is found in mothers most of all. It
is by some one of these characterstics that friendship too is defined.
Now each of these is true of the good man's relation
to himself (and of all other men in so far as they think themselves good;
virtue and the good man seem, as has been said, to be the measure of every
class of things). For his opinions are harmonious, and he desires the same
things with all his soul; and therefore he wishes for himself what is good and
what seems so, and does it (for it is characteristic of the good man to work
out the good), and does so for his own sake (for he does it for the sake of the
intellectual element in him, which is thought to be the man himself); and he
wishes himself to live and be preserved, and especially the element by virtue
of which he thinks. For existence is good to the virtuous man, and each man
wishes himself what is good, while no one chooses to possess the whole world if
he has first to become some one else (for that matter, even now God possesses
the good); he wishes for this only on condition of being whatever he is; and
the element that thinks would seem to be the individual man, or to be so more
than any other element in him. And such a man wishes to live with himself; for
he does so with pleasure, since the memories of his past acts are delightful
and his hopes for the future are good, and therefore pleasant. His mind is well
stored too with subjects of contemplation. And he grieves and rejoices, more
than any other, with himself; for the same thing is always painful, and the
same thing always pleasant, and not one thing at one time and another at
another; he has, so to speak, nothing to repent of.
Therefore, since each of these characteristics belongs
to the good man in relation to himself, and he is related to his friend as to
himself (for his friend is another self), friendship too is thought to be one
of these attributes, and those who have these attributes to be friends. Whether
there is or is not friendship between a man and himself is a question we may
dismiss for the present; there would seem to be friendship in so far as he is
two or more, to judge from the afore-mentioned attributes of friendship, and
from the fact that the extreme of friendship is likened to one's love for oneself.
But the attributes named seem to belong even to the
majority of men, poor creatures though they may be. Are we to say then that in
so far as they are satisfied with themselves and think they are good, they
share in these attributes? Certainly no one who is thoroughly bad and impious
has these attributes, or even seems to do so. They hardly belong even to
inferior people; for they are at variance with themselves, and have appetites
for some things and rational desires for others. This is true, for instance, of
incontinent people; for they choose, instead of the things they themselves
think good, things that are pleasant but hurtful; while others again, through
cowardice and laziness, shrink from doing what they think best for themselves. And
those who have done many terrible deeds and are hated for their wickedness even
shrink from life and destroy themselves. And wicked men seek for people with
whom to spend their days, and shun themselves; for they remember many a
grevious deed, and anticipate others like them, when they are by themselves,
but when they are with others they forget. And having nothing lovable in them
they have no feeling of love to themselves. Therefore also such men do not
rejoice or grieve with themselves; for their soul is rent by faction, and one
element in it by reason of its wickedness grieves when it abstains from certain
acts, while the other part is pleased, and one draws them this way and the
other that, as if they were pulling them in pieces. If a man cannot at the same
time be pained and pleased, at all events after a short time he is pained
because he was pleased, and he could have wished that these things had not been
pleasant to him; for bad men are laden with repentance.
Therefore the bad man does not seem to be amicably
disposed even to himself, because there is nothing in him to love; so that if
to be thus is the height of wretchedness, we should strain every nerve to avoid
wickedness and should endeavour to be good; for so and only so can one be
either friendly to oneself or a friend to another.
5
Goodwill is a friendly sort of relation, but is not
identical with friendship; for one may have goodwill both towards people whom
one does not know, and without their knowing it, but not friendship. This has
indeed been said already.' But goodwill is not even friendly feeling. For it
does not involve intensity or desire, whereas these accompany friendly feeling;
and friendly feeling implies intimacy while goodwill may arise of a sudden, as
it does towards competitors in a contest; we come to feel goodwill for them and
to share in their wishes, but we would not do anything with them; for, as we
said, we feel goodwill suddenly and love them only superficially.
Goodwill seems, then, to be a beginning of friendship,
as the pleasure of the eye is the beginning of love. For no one loves if he has
not first been delighted by the form of the beloved, but he who delights in the
form of another does not, for all that, love him, but only does so when he also
longs for him when absent and craves for his presence; so too it is not
possible for people to be friends if they have not come to feel goodwill for
each other, but those who feel goodwill are not for all that friends; for they
only wish well to those for whom they feel goodwill, and would not do anything
with them nor take trouble for them. And so one might by an extension of the
term friendship say that goodwill is inactive friendship, though when it is
prolonged and reaches the point of intimacy it becomes friendship-not the
friendship based on utility nor that based on pleasure; for goodwill too does
not arise on those terms. The man who has received a benefit bestows goodwill
in return for what has been done to him, but in doing so is only doing what is
just; while he who wishes some one to prosper because he hopes for enrichment
through him seems to have goodwill not to him but rather to himself, just as a
man is not a friend to another if he cherishes him for the sake of some use to
be made of him. In general, goodwill arises on account of some excellence and
worth, when one man seems to another beautiful or brave or something of the
sort, as we pointed out in the case of competitors in a contest.
6
Unanimity also seems to be a friendly relation. For
this reason it is not identity of opinion; for that might occur even with
people who do not know each other; nor do we say that people who have the same
views on any and every subject are unanimous, e.g. those who agree about the
heavenly bodies (for unanimity about these is not a friendly relation), but we
do say that a city is unanimous when men have the same opinion about what is to
their interest, and choose the same actions, and do what they have resolved in
common. It is about things to be done, therefore, that people are said to be
unanimous, and, among these, about matters of consequence and in which it is
possible for both or all parties to get what they want; e.g. a city is
unanimous when all its citizens think that the offices in it should be
elective, or that they should form an alliance with Sparta, or that Pittacus
should be their ruler-at a time when he himself was also willing to rule. But
when each of two people wishes himself to have the thing in question, like the
captains in the Phoenissae, they are in a state of faction; for it is not
unanimity when each of two parties thinks of the same thing, whatever that may
be, but only when they think of the same thing in the same hands, e.g. when
both the common people and those of the better class wish the best men to rule;
for thus and thus alone do all get what they aim at. Unanimity seems, then, to
be political friendship, as indeed it is commonly said to be; for it is
concerned with things that are to our interest and have an influence on our
life.
Now such unanimity is found among good men; for they
are unanimous both in themselves and with one another, being, so to say, of one
mind (for the wishes of such men are constant and not at the mercy of opposing
currents like a strait of the sea), and they wish for what is just and what is
advantageous, and these are the objects of their common endeavour as well. But
bad men cannot be unanimous except to a small extent, any more than they can be
friends, since they aim at getting more than their share of advantages, while
in labour and public service they fall short of their share; and each man
wishing for advantage to himself criticizes his neighbour and stands in his
way; for if people do not watch it carefully the common weal is soon destroyed.
The result is that they are in a state of faction, putting compulsion on each
other but unwilling themselves to do what is just.
7
Benefactors are thought to love those they have
benefited, more than those who have been well treated love those that have
treated them well, and this is discussed as though it were paradoxical. Most
people think it is because the latter are in the position of debtors and the
former of creditors; and therefore as, in the case of loans, debtors wish their
creditors did not exist, while creditors actually take care of the safety of
their debtors, so it is thought that benefactors wish the objects of their
action to exist since they will then get their gratitude, while the
beneficiaries take no interest in making this return. Epicharmus would perhaps
declare that they say this because they 'look at things on their bad side', but
it is quite like human nature; for most people are forgetful, and are more
anxious to be well treated than to treat others well. But the cause would seem
to be more deeply rooted in the nature of things; the case of those who have
lent money is not even analogous. For they have no friendly feeling to their
debtors, but only a wish that they may kept safe with a view to what is to be
got from them; while those who have done a service to others feel friendship
and love for those they have served even if these are not of any use to them
and never will be. This is what happens with craftsmen too; every man loves his
own handiwork better than he would be loved by it if it came alive; and this
happens perhaps most of all with poets; for they have an excessive love for
their own poems, doting on them as if they were their children. This is what
the position of benefactors is like; for that which they have treated well is
their handiwork, and therefore they love this more than the handiwork does its
maker. The cause of this is that existence is to all men a thing to be chosen
and loved, and that we exist by virtue of activity (i.e. by living and acting),
and that the handiwork is in a sense, the producer in activity; he loves his
handiwork, therefore, because he loves existence. And this is rooted in the
nature of things; for what he is in potentiality, his handiwork manifests in
activity.
At the same time to the benefactor that is noble which
depends on his action, so that he delights in the object of his action, whereas
to the patient there is nothing noble in the agent, but at most something
advantageous, and this is less pleasant and lovable. What is pleasant is the
activity of the present, the hope of the future, the memory of the past; but
most pleasant is that which depends on activity, and similarly this is most
lovable. Now for a man who has made something his work remains (for the noble
is lasting), but for the person acted on the utility passes away. And the
memory of noble things is pleasant, but that of useful things is not likely to
be pleasant, or is less so; though the reverse seems true of expectation.
Further, love is like activity, being loved like
passivity; and loving and its concomitants are attributes of those who are the
more active.
Again, all men love more what they have won by labour;
e.g. those who have made their money love it more than those who have inherited
it; and to be well treated seems to involve no labour, while to treat others
well is a laborious task. These are the reasons, too, why mothers are fonder of
their children than fathers; bringing them into the world costs them more
pains, and they know better that the children are their own. This last point,
too, would seem to apply to benefactors.
8
The question is also debated, whether a man should
love himself most, or some one else. People criticize those who love themselves
most, and call them self-lovers, using this as an epithet of disgrace, and a
bad man seems to do everything for his own sake, and the more so the more
wicked he is-and so men reproach him, for instance, with doing nothing of his
own accord-while the good man acts for honour's sake, and the more so the
better he is, and acts for his friend's sake, and sacrifices his own interest.
But the facts clash with these arguments, and this is
not surprising. For men say that one ought to love best one's best friend, and
man's best friend is one who wishes well to the object of his wish for his
sake, even if no one is to know of it; and these attributes are found most of
all in a man's attitude towards himself, and so are all the other attributes by
which a friend is defined; for, as we have said, it is from this relation that
all the characteristics of friendship have extended to our neighbours. All the
proverbs, too, agree with this, e.g. 'a single soul', and 'what friends have is
common property', and 'friendship is equality', and 'charity begins at home';
for all these marks will be found most in a man's relation to himself; he is
his own best friend and therefore ought to love himself best. It is therefore a
reasonable question, which of the two views we should follow; for both are
plausible.
Perhaps we ought to mark off such arguments from each
other and determine how far and in what respects each view is right. Now if we
grasp the sense in which each school uses the phrase 'lover of self', the truth
may become evident. Those who use the term as one of reproach ascribe self-love
to people who assign to themselves the greater share of wealth, honours, and
bodily pleasures; for these are what most people desire, and busy themselves
about as though they were the best of all things, which is the reason, too, why
they become objects of competition. So those who are grasping with regard to
these things gratify their appetites and in general their feelings and the
irrational element of the soul; and most men are of this nature (which is the
reason why the epithet has come to be used as it is-it takes its meaning from
the prevailing type of self-love, which is a bad one); it is just, therefore,
that men who are lovers of self in this way are reproached for being so. That
it is those who give themselves the preference in regard to objects of this
sort that most people usually call lovers of self is plain; for if a man were
always anxious that he himself, above all things, should act justly,
temperately, or in accordance with any other of the virtues, and in general
were always to try to secure for himself the honourable course, no one will
call such a man a lover of self or blame him.
But such a man would seem more than the other a lover
of self; at all events he assigns to himself the things that are noblest and
best, and gratifies the most authoritative element in and in all things obeys
this; and just as a city or any other systematic whole is most properly
identified with the most authoritative element in it, so is a man; and
therefore the man who loves this and gratifies it is most of all a lover of
self. Besides, a man is said to have or not to have self-control according as
his reason has or has not the control, on the assumption that this is the man
himself; and the things men have done on a rational principle are thought most
properly their own acts and voluntary acts. That this is the man himself, then,
or is so more than anything else, is plain, and also that the good man loves
most this part of him. Whence it follows that he is most truly a lover of self,
of another type than that which is a matter of reproach, and as different from
that as living according to a rational principle is from living as passion
dictates, and desiring what is noble from desiring what seems advantageous. Those,
then, who busy themselves in an exceptional degree with noble actions all men
approve and praise; and if all were to strive towards what is noble and strain
every nerve to do the noblest deeds, everything would be as it should be for
the common weal, and every one would secure for himself the goods that are
greatest, since virtue is the greatest of goods.
Therefore the good man should be a lover of self (for
he will both himself profit by doing noble acts, and will benefit his fellows),
but the wicked man should not; for he will hurt both himself and his
neighbours, following as he does evil passions. For the wicked man, what he
does clashes with what he ought to do, but what the good man ought to do he
does; for reason in each of its possessors chooses what is best for itself, and
the good man obeys his reason. It is true of the good man too that he does many
acts for the sake of his friends and his country, and if necessary dies for
them; for he will throw away both wealth and honours and in general the goods
that are objects of competition, gaining for himself nobility; since he would
prefer a short period of intense pleasure to a long one of mild enjoyment, a
twelvemonth of noble life to many years of humdrum existence, and one great and
noble action to many trivial ones. Now those who die for others doubtless
attain this result; it is therefore a great prize that they choose for
themselves. They will throw away wealth too on condition that their friends
will gain more; for while a man's friend gains wealth he himself achieves
nobility; he is therefore assigning the greater good to himself. The same too
is true of honour and office; all these things he will sacrifice to his friend;
for this is noble and laudable for himself. Rightly then is he thought to be
good, since he chooses nobility before all else. But he may even give up
actions to his friend; it may be nobler to become the cause of his friend's
acting than to act himself. In all the actions, therefore, that men are praised
for, the good man is seen to assign to himself the greater share in what is
noble. In this sense, then, as has been said, a man should be a lover of self;
but in the sense in which most men are so, he ought not.
9
It is also disputed whether the happy man will need
friends or not. It is said that those who are supremely happy and
self-sufficient have no need of friends; for they have the things that are
good, and therefore being self-sufficient they need nothing further, while a
friend, being another self, furnishes what a man cannot provide by his own
effort; whence the saying 'when fortune is kind, what need of friends?' But it
seems strange, when one assigns all good things to the happy man, not to assign
friends, who are thought the greatest of external goods. And if it is more
characteristic of a friend to do well by another than to be well done by, and
to confer benefits is characteristic of the good man and of virtue, and it is
nobler to do well by friends than by strangers, the good man will need people
to do well by. This is why the question is asked whether we need friends more
in prosperity or in adversity, on the assumption that not only does a man in
adversity need people to confer benefits on him, but also those who are
prospering need people to do well by. Surely it is strange, too, to make the
supremely happy man a solitary; for no one would choose the whole world on
condition of being alone, since man is a political creature and one whose
nature is to live with others. Therefore even the happy man lives with others;
for he has the things that are by nature good. And plainly it is better to
spend his days with friends and good men than with strangers or any chance
persons. Therefore the happy man needs friends.
What then is it that the first school means, and in
what respect is it right? Is it that most identify friends with useful people? Of
such friends indeed the supremely happy man will have no need, since he already
has the things that are good; nor will he need those whom one makes one's
friends because of their pleasantness, or he will need them only to a small
extent (for his life, being pleasant, has no need of adventitious pleasure);
and because he does not need such friends he is thought not to need friends.
But that is surely not true. For we have said at the
outset that happiness is an activity; and activity plainly comes into being and
is not present at the start like a piece of property. If (1) happiness lies in
living and being active, and the good man's activity is virtuous and pleasant
in itself, as we have said at the outset, and (2) a thing's being one's own is
one of the attributes that make it pleasant, and (3) we can contemplate our
neighbours better than ourselves and their actions better than our own, and if
the actions of virtuous men who are their friends are pleasant to good men
(since these have both the attributes that are naturally pleasant),-if this be
so, the supremely happy man will need friends of this sort, since his purpose
is to contemplate worthy actions and actions that are his own, and the actions
of a good man who is his friend have both these qualities.
Further, men think that the happy man ought to live
pleasantly. Now if he were a solitary, life would be hard for him; for by
oneself it is not easy to be continuously active; but with others and towards
others it is easier. With others therefore his activity will be more
continuous, and it is in itself pleasant, as it ought to be for the man who is
supremely happy; for a good man qua good delights in virtuous actions and is
vexed at vicious ones, as a musical man enjoys beautiful tunes but is pained at
bad ones. A certain training in virtue arises also from the company of the
good, as Theognis has said before us.
If we look deeper into the nature of things, a
virtuous friend seems to be naturally desirable for a virtuous man. For that
which is good by nature, we have said, is for the virtuous man good and
pleasant in itself. Now life is defined in the case of animals by the power of
perception in that of man by the power of perception or thought; and a power is
defined by reference to the corresponding activity, which is the essential
thing; therefore life seems to be essentially the act of perceiving or
thinking. And life is among the things that are good and pleasant in
themselves, since it is determinate and the determinate is of the nature of the
good; and that which is good by nature is also good for the virtuous man (which
is the reason why life seems pleasant to all men); but we must not apply this
to a wicked and corrupt life nor to a life spent in pain; for such a life is
indeterminate, as are its attributes. The nature of pain will become plainer in
what follows. But if life itself is good and pleasant (which it seems to be,
from the very fact that all men desire it, and particularly those who are good
and supremely happy; for to such men life is most desirable, and their
existence is the most supremely happy) and if he who sees perceives that he
sees, and he who hears, that he hears, and he who walks, that he walks, and in
the case of all other activities similarly there is something which perceives
that we are active, so that if we perceive, we perceive that we perceive, and
if we think, that we think; and if to perceive that we perceive or think is to
perceive that we exist (for existence was defined as perceiving or thinking);
and if perceiving that one lives is in itself one of the things that are
pleasant (for life is by nature good, and to perceive what is good present in
oneself is pleasant); and if life is desirable, and particularly so for good men,
because to them existence is good and pleasant for they are pleased at the
consciousness of the presence in them of what is in itself good); and if as the
virtuous man is to himself, he is to his friend also (for his friend is another
self):-if all this be true, as his own being is desirable for each man, so, or
almost so, is that of his friend. Now his being was seen to be desirable
because he perceived his own goodness, and such perception is pleasant in
itself. He needs, therefore, to be conscious of the existence of his friend as
well, and this will be realized in their living together and sharing in
discussion and thought; for this is what living together would seem to mean in
the case of man, and not, as in the case of cattle, feeding in the same place.
If, then, being is in itself desirable for the
supremely happy man (since it is by its nature good and pleasant), and that of
his friend is very much the same, a friend will be one of the things that are
desirable. Now that which is desirable for him he must have, or he will be
deficient in this respect. The man who is to be happy will therefore need
virtuous friends.
10
Should we, then, make as many friends as possible,
or-as in the case of hospitality it is thought to be suitable advice, that one
should be 'neither a man of many guests nor a man with none'-will that apply to
friendship as well; should a man neither be friendless nor have an excessive
number of friends?
To friends made with a view to utility this saying
would seem thoroughly applicable; for to do services to many people in return
is a laborious task and life is not long enough for its performance. Therefore
friends in excess of those who are sufficient for our own life are superfluous,
and hindrances to the noble life; so that we have no need of them. Of friends
made with a view to pleasure, also, few are enough, as a little seasoning in
food is enough.
But as regards good friends, should we have as many as
possible, or is there a limit to the number of one's friends, as there is to
the size of a city? You cannot make a city of ten men, and if there are a
hundred thousand it is a city no longer. But the proper number is presumably
not a single number, but anything that falls between certain fixed points. So
for friends too there is a fixed number perhaps the largest number with whom
one can live together (for that, we found, thought to be very characteristic of
friendship); and that one cannot live with many people and divide oneself up
among them is plain. Further, they too must be friends of one another, if they
are all to spend their days together; and it is a hard business for this
condition to be fulfilled with a large number. It is found difficult, too, to
rejoice and to grieve in an intimate way with many people, for it may likely
happen that one has at once to be happy with one friend and to mourn with
another. Presumably, then, it is well not to seek to have as many friends as
possible, but as many as are enough for the purpose of living together; for it
would seem actually impossible to be a great friend to many people. This is why
one cannot love several people; love is ideally a sort of excess of friendship,
and that can only be felt towards one person; therefore great friendship too
can only be felt towards a few people. This seems to be confirmed in practice;
for we do not find many people who are friends in the comradely way of
friendship, and the famous friendships of this sort are always between two
people. Those who have many friends and mix intimately with them all are
thought to be no one's friend, except in the way proper to fellow-citizens, and
such people are also called obsequious. In the way proper to fellow-citizens,
indeed, it is possible to be the friend of many and yet not be obsequious but a
genuinely good man; but one cannot have with many people the friendship based
on virtue and on the character of our friends themselves, and we must be
content if we find even a few such.
11
Do we need friends more in good fortune or in bad? They
are sought after in both; for while men in adversity need help, in prosperity
they need people to live with and to make the objects of their beneficence; for
they wish to do well by others. Friendship, then, is more necessary in bad
fortune, and so it is useful friends that one wants in this case; but it is
more noble in good fortune, and so we also seek for good men as our friends,
since it is more desirable to confer benefits on these and to live with these. For
the very presence of friends is pleasant both in good fortune and also in bad,
since grief is lightened when friends sorrow with us. Hence one might ask
whether they share as it were our burden, or-without that happening-their
presence by its pleasantness, and the thought of their grieving with us, make
our pain less. Whether it is for these reasons or for some other that our grief
is lightened, is a question that may be dismissed; at all events what we have
described appears to take place.
But their presence seems to contain a mixture of
various factors. The very seeing of one's friends is pleasant, especially if
one is in adversity, and becomes a safeguard against grief (for a friend tends
to comfort us both by the sight of him and by his words, if he is tactful,
since he knows our character and the things that please or pain us); but to see
him pained at our misfortunes is painful; for every one shuns being a cause of
pain to his friends. For this reason people of a manly nature guard against
making their friends grieve with them, and, unless he be exceptionally
insensible to pain, such a man cannot stand the pain that ensues for his
friends, and in general does not admit fellow-mourners because he is not
himself given to mourning; but women and womanly men enjoy sympathisers in
their grief, and love them as friends and companions in sorrow. But in all
things one obviously ought to imitate the better type of person.
On the other hand, the presence of friends in our
prosperity implies both a pleasant passing of our time and the pleasant thought
of their pleasure at our own good fortune. For this cause it would seem that we
ought to summon our friends readily to share our good fortunes (for the
beneficent character is a noble one), but summon them to our bad fortunes with
hesitation; for we ought to give them as little a share as possible in our
evils whence the saying 'enough is my misfortune'. We should summon friends to
us most of all when they are likely by suffering a few inconveniences to do us
a great service.
Conversely, it is fitting to go unasked and readily to
the aid of those in adversity (for it is characteristic of a friend to render
services, and especially to those who are in need and have not demanded them;
such action is nobler and pleasanter for both persons); but when our friends
are prosperous we should join readily in their activities (for they need
friends for these too), but be tardy in coming forward to be the objects of
their kindness; for it is not noble to be keen to receive benefits. Still, we
must no doubt avoid getting the reputation of kill-joys by repulsing them; for
that sometimes happens.
The presence of friends, then, seems desirable in all
circumstances.
12
Does it not follow, then, that, as for lovers the
sight of the beloved is the thing they love most, and they prefer this sense to
the others because on it love depends most for its being and for its origin, so
for friends the most desirable thing is living together? For friendship is a
partnership, and as a man is to himself, so is he to his friend; now in his own
case the consciousness of his being is desirable, and so therefore is the
consciousness of his friend's being, and the activity of this consciousness is
produced when they live together, so that it is natural that they aim at this. And
whatever existence means for each class of men, whatever it is for whose sake
they value life, in that they wish to occupy themselves with their friends; and
so some drink together, others dice together, others join in athletic exercises
and hunting, or in the study of philosophy, each class spending their days
together in whatever they love most in life; for since they wish to live with
their friends, they do and share in those things which give them the sense of
living together. Thus the friendship of bad men turns out an evil thing (for
because of their instability they unite in bad pursuits, and besides they
become evil by becoming like each other), while the friendship of good men is
good, being augmented by their companionship; and they are thought to become
better too by their activities and by improving each other; for from each other
they take the mould of the characteristics they approve-whence the saying
'noble deeds from noble men'.-So much, then, for friendship; our next task must
be to discuss pleasure.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK X
1
After these matters we ought perhaps next to discuss
pleasure. For it is thought to be most intimately connected with our human
nature, which is the reason why in educating the young we steer them by the
rudders of pleasure and pain; it is thought, too, that to enjoy the things we
ought and to hate the things we ought has the greatest bearing on virtue of
character. For these things extend right through life, with a weight and power
of their own in respect both to virtue and to the happy life, since men choose
what is pleasant and avoid what is painful; and such things, it will be
thought, we should least of all omit to discuss, especially since they admit of
much dispute. For some say pleasure is the good, while others, on the contrary,
say it is thoroughly bad-some no doubt being persuaded that the facts are so,
and others thinking it has a better effect on our life to exhibit pleasure as a
bad thing even if it is not; for most people (they think) incline towards it
and are the slaves of their pleasures, for which reason they ought to lead them
in the opposite direction, since thus they will reach the middle state. But
surely this is not correct. For arguments about matters concerned with feelings
and actions are less reliable than facts: and so when they clash with the facts
of perception they are despised, and discredit the truth as well; if a man who
runs down pleasure is once seen to be alming at it, his inclining towards it is
thought to imply that it is all worthy of being aimed at; for most people are
not good at drawing distinctions. True arguments seem, then, most useful, not
only with a view to knowledge, but with a view to life also; for since they
harmonize with the facts they are believed, and so they stimulate those who
understand them to live according to them.-Enough of such questions; let us
proceed to review the opinions that have been expressed about pleasure.
2
Eudoxus thought pleasure was the good because he saw
all things, both rational and irrational, aiming at it, and because in all
things that which is the object of choice is what is excellent, and that which
is most the object of choice the greatest good; thus the fact that all things
moved towards the same object indicated that this was for all things the chief
good (for each thing, he argued, finds its own good, as it finds its own
nourishment); and that which is good for all things and at which all aim was
the good. His arguments were credited more because of the excellence of his
character than for their own sake; he was thought to be remarkably
self-controlled, and therefore it was thought that he was not saying what he
did say as a friend of pleasure, but that the facts really were so. He believed
that the same conclusion followed no less plainly from a study of the contrary
of pleasure; pain was in itself an object of aversion to all things, and
therefore its contrary must be similarly an object of choice. And again that is
most an object of choice which we choose not because or for the sake of
something else, and pleasure is admittedly of this nature; for no one asks to
what end he is pleased, thus implying that pleasure is in itself an object of
choice. Further, he argued that pleasure when added to any good, e.g. to just
or temperate action, makes it more worthy of choice, and that it is only by
itself that the good can be increased.
This argument seems to show it to be one of the goods,
and no more a good than any other; for every good is more worthy of choice
along with another good than taken alone. And so it is by an argument of this
kind that Plato proves the good not to be pleasure; he argues that the pleasant
life is more desirable with wisdom than without, and that if the mixture is
better, pleasure is not the good; for the good cannot become more desirable by
the addition of anything to it. Now it is clear that nothing else, any more
than pleasure, can be the good if it is made more desirable by the addition of
any of the things that are good in themselves. What, then, is there that
satisfies this criterion, which at the same time we can participate in? It is
something of this sort that we are looking for. Those who object that that at
which all things aim is not necessarily good are, we may surmise, talking
nonsense. For we say that that which every one thinks really is so; and the man
who attacks this belief will hardly have anything more credible to maintain
instead. If it is senseless creatures that desire the things in question, there
might be something in what they say; but if intelligent creatures do so as
well, what sense can there be in this view? But perhaps even in inferior
creatures there is some natural good stronger than themselves which aims at
their proper good.
Nor does the argument about the contrary of pleasure
seem to be correct. They say that if pain is an evil it does not follow that
pleasure is a good; for evil is opposed to evil and at the same time both are
opposed to the neutral state-which is correct enough but does not apply to the
things in question. For if both pleasure and pain belonged to the class of
evils they ought both to be objects of aversion, while if they belonged to the
class of neutrals neither should be an object of aversion or they should both
be equally so; but in fact people evidently avoid the one as evil and choose
the other as good; that then must be the nature of the opposition between them.
3
Nor again, if pleasure is not a quality, does it
follow that it is not a good; for the activities of virtue are not qualities
either, nor is happiness. They say, however, that the good is determinate,
while pleasure is indeterminate, because it admits of degrees. Now if it is
from the feeling of pleasure that they judge thus, the same will be true of justice
and the other virtues, in respect of which we plainly say that people of a
certain character are so more or less, and act more or less in accordance with
these virtues; for people may be more just or brave, and it is possible also to
act justly or temperately more or less. But if their judgement is based on the
various pleasures, surely they are not stating the real cause, if in fact some
pleasures are unmixed and others mixed. Again, just as health admits of degrees
without being indeterminate, why should not pleasure? The same proportion is
not found in all things, nor a single proportion always in the same thing, but
it may be relaxed and yet persist up to a point, and it may differ in degree. The
case of pleasure also may therefore be of this kind.
Again, they assume that the good is perfect while
movements and comings into being are imperfect, and try to exhibit pleasure as
being a movement and a coming into being. But they do not seem to be right even
in saying that it is a movement. For speed and slowness are thought to be
proper to every movement, and if a movement, e.g. that of the heavens, has not
speed or slowness in itself, it has it in relation to something else; but of
pleasure neither of these things is true. For while we may become pleased
quickly as we may become angry quickly, we cannot be pleased quickly, not even
in relation to some one else, while we can walk, or grow, or the like, quickly.
While, then, we can change quickly or slowly into a state of pleasure, we
cannot quickly exhibit the activity of pleasure, i.e. be pleased. Again, how
can it be a coming into being? It is not thought that any chance thing can come
out of any chance thing, but that a thing is dissolved into that out of which
it comes into being; and pain would be the destruction of that of which
pleasure is the coming into being.
They say, too, that pain is the lack of that which is
according to nature, and pleasure is replenishment. But these experiences are
bodily. If then pleasure is replenishment with that which is according to
nature, that which feels pleasure will be that in which the replenishment takes
place, i.e. the body; but that is not thought to be the case; therefore the
replenishment is not pleasure, though one would be pleased when replenishment was
taking place, just as one would be pained if one was being operated on. This
opinion seems to be based on the pains and pleasures connected with nutrition;
on the fact that when people have been short of food and have felt pain
beforehand they are pleased by the replenishment. But this does not happen with
all pleasures; for the pleasures of learning and, among the sensuous pleasures,
those of smell, and also many sounds and sights, and memories and hopes, do not
presuppose pain. Of what then will these be the coming into being? There has
not been lack of anything of which they could be the supplying anew.
In reply to those who bring forward the disgraceful
pleasures one may say that these are not pleasant; if things are pleasant to
people of vicious constitution, we must not suppose that they are also pleasant
to others than these, just as we do not reason so about the things that are
wholesome or sweet or bitter to sick people, or ascribe whiteness to the things
that seem white to those suffering from a disease of the eye. Or one might
answer thus-that the pleasures are desirable, but not from these sources, as
wealth is desirable, but not as the reward of betrayal, and health, but not at
the cost of eating anything and everything. Or perhaps pleasures differ in
kind; for those derived from noble sources are different from those derived
from base sources, and one cannot the pleasure of the just man without being
just, nor that of the musical man without being musical, and so on.
The fact, too, that a friend is different from a
flatterer seems to make it plain that pleasure is not a good or that pleasures
are different in kind; for the one is thought to consort with us with a view to
the good, the other with a view to our pleasure, and the one is reproached for
his conduct while the other is praised on the ground that he consorts with us
for different ends. And no one would choose to live with the intellect of a
child throughout his life, however much he were to be pleased at the things
that children are pleased at, nor to get enjoyment by doing some most
disgraceful deed, though he were never to feel any pain in consequence. And
there are many things we should be keen about even if they brought no pleasure,
e.g. seeing, remembering, knowing, possessing the virtues. If pleasures
necessarily do accompany these, that makes no odds; we should choose these even
if no pleasure resulted. It seems to be clear, then, that neither is pleasure
the good nor is all pleasure desirable, and that some pleasures are desirable
in themselves, differing in kind or in their sources from the others. So much
for the things that are said about pleasure and pain.
4
What pleasure is, or what kind of thing it is, will
become plainer if we take up the question aga from the beginning. Seeing seems
to be at any moment complete, for it does not lack anything which coming into
being later will complete its form; and pleasure also seems to be of this
nature. For it is a whole, and at no time can one find a pleasure whose form
will be completed if the pleasure lasts longer. For this reason, too, it is not
a movement. For every movement (e.g. that of building) takes time and is for
the sake of an end, and is complete when it has made what it aims at. It is
complete, therefore, only in the whole time or at that final moment. In their
parts and during the time they occupy, all movements are incomplete, and are
different in kind from the whole movement and from each other. For the fitting
together of the stones is different from the fluting of the column, and these
are both different from the making of the temple; and the making of the temple
is complete (for it lacks nothing with a view to the end proposed), but the
making of the base or of the triglyph is incomplete; for each is the making of
only a part. They differ in kind, then, and it is not possible to find at any
and every time a movement complete in form, but if at all, only in the whole
time. So, too, in the case of walking and all other movements. For if
locomotion is a movement from to there, it, too, has differences in
kind-flying, walking, leaping, and so on. And not only so, but in walking
itself there are such differences; for the whence and whither are not the same
in the whole racecourse and in a part of it, nor in one part and in another,
nor is it the same thing to traverse this line and that; for one traverses not
only a line but one which is in a place, and this one is in a different place
from that. We have discussed movement with precision in another work, but it
seems that it is not complete at any and every time, but that the many
movements are incomplete and different in kind, since the whence and whither
give them their form. But of pleasure the form is complete at any and every
time. Plainly, then, pleasure and movement must be different from each other,
and pleasure must be one of the things that are whole and complete. This would
seem to be the case, too, from the fact that it is not possible to move
otherwise than in time, but it is possible to be pleased; for that which takes
place in a moment is a whole.
From these considerations it is clear, too, that these
thinkers are not right in saying there is a movement or a coming into being of
pleasure. For these cannot be ascribed to all things, but only to those that are
divisible and not wholes; there is no coming into being of seeing nor of a
point nor of a unit, nor is any of these a movement or coming into being;
therefore there is no movement or coming into being of pleasure either; for it
is a whole.
Since every sense is active in relation to its object,
and a sense which is in good condition acts perfectly in relation to the most
beautiful of its objects (for perfect activity seems to be ideally of this
nature; whether we say that it is active, or the organ in which it resides, may
be assumed to be immaterial), it follows that in the case of each sense the
best activity is that of the best-conditioned organ in relation to the finest
of its objects. And this activity will be the most complete and pleasant. For,
while there is pleasure in respect of any sense, and in respect of thought and
contemplation no less, the most complete is pleasantest, and that of a
well-conditioned organ in relation to the worthiest of its objects is the most
complete; and the pleasure completes the activity. But the pleasure does not
complete it in the same way as the combination of object and sense, both good,
just as health and the doctor are not in the same way the cause of a man's
being healthy. (That pleasure is produced in respect to each sense is plain;
for we speak of sights and sounds as pleasant. It is also plain that it arises
most of all when both the sense is at its best and it is active in reference to
an object which corresponds; when both object and perceiver are of the best
there will always be pleasure, since the requisite agent and patient are both
present.) Pleasure completes the activity not as the corresponding permanent
state does, by its immanence, but as an end which supervenes as the bloom of
youth does on those in the flower of their age. So long, then, as both the
intelligible or sensible object and the discriminating or contemplative faculty
are as they should be, the pleasure will be involved in the activity; for when
both the passive and the active factor are unchanged and are related to each
other in the same way, the same result naturally follows.
How, then, is it that no one is continuously pleased? Is
it that we grow weary? Certainly all human beings are incapable of continuous
activity. Therefore pleasure also is not continuous; for it accompanies
activity. Some things delight us when they are new, but later do so less, for
the same reason; for at first the mind is in a state of stimulation and
intensely active about them, as people are with respect to their vision when
they look hard at a thing, but afterwards our activity is not of this kind, but
has grown relaxed; for which reason the pleasure also is dulled.
One might think that all men desire pleasure because
they all aim at life; life is an activity, and each man is active about those
things and with those faculties that he loves most; e.g. the musician is active
with his hearing in reference to tunes, the student with his mind in reference
to theoretical questions, and so on in each case; now pleasure completes the
activities, and therefore life, which they desire. It is with good reason,
then, that they aim at pleasure too, since for every one it completes life,
which is desirable. But whether we choose life for the sake of pleasure or
pleasure for the sake of life is a question we may dismiss for the present. For
they seem to be bound up together and not to admit of separation, since without
activity pleasure does not arise, and every activity is completed by the
attendant pleasure.
5
For this reason pleasures seem, too, to differ in
kind. For things different in kind are, we think, completed by different things
(we see this to be true both of natural objects and of things produced by art,
e.g. animals, trees, a painting, a sculpture, a house, an implement); and,
similarly, we think that activities differing in kind are completed by things
differing in kind. Now the activities of thought differ from those of the
senses, and both differ among themselves, in kind; so, therefore, do the
pleasures that complete them.
This may be seen, too, from the fact that each of the
pleasures is bound up with the activity it completes. For an activity is
intensified by its proper pleasure, since each class of things is better judged
of and brought to precision by those who engage in the activity with pleasure;
e.g. it is those who enjoy geometrical thinking that become geometers and grasp
the various propositions better, and, similarly, those who are fond of music or
of building, and so on, make progress in their proper function by enjoying it;
so the pleasures intensify the activities, and what intensifies a thing is
proper to it, but things different in kind have properties different in kind.
This will be even more apparent from the fact that
activities are hindered by pleasures arising from other sources. For people who
are fond of playing the flute are incapable of attending to arguments if they
overhear some one playing the flute, since they enjoy flute-playing more than
the activity in hand; so the pleasure connected with fluteplaying destroys the
activity concerned with argument. This happens, similarly, in all other cases,
when one is active about two things at once; the more pleasant activity drives
out the other, and if it is much more pleasant does so all the more, so that
one even ceases from the other. This is why when we enjoy anything very much we
do not throw ourselves into anything else, and do one thing only when we are
not much pleased by another; e.g. in the theatre the people who eat sweets do
so most when the actors are poor. Now since activities are made precise and
more enduring and better by their proper pleasure, and injured by alien
pleasures, evidently the two kinds of pleasure are far apart. For alien
pleasures do pretty much what proper pains do, since activities are destroyed
by their proper pains; e.g. if a man finds writing or doing sums unpleasant and
painful, he does not write, or does not do sums, because the activity is
painful. So an activity suffers contrary effects from its proper pleasures and
pains, i.e. from those that supervene on it in virtue of its own nature. And
alien pleasures have been stated to do much the same as pain; they destroy the
activity, only not to the same degree.
Now since activities differ in respect of goodness and
badness, and some are worthy to be chosen, others to be avoided, and others
neutral, so, too, are the pleasures; for to each activity there is a proper
pleasure. The pleasure proper to a worthy activity is good and that proper to
an unworthy activity bad; just as the appetites for noble objects are laudable,
those for base objects culpable. But the pleasures involved in activities are
more proper to them than the desires; for the latter are separated both in time
and in nature, while the former are close to the activities, and so hard to
distinguish from them that it admits of dispute whether the activity is not the
same as the pleasure. (Still, pleasure does not seem to be thought or
perception-that would be strange; but because they are not found apart they
appear to some people the same.) As activities are different, then, so are the
corresponding pleasures. Now sight is superior to touch in purity, and hearing
and smell to taste; the pleasures, therefore, are similarly superior, and those
of thought superior to these, and within each of the two kinds some are
superior to others.
Each animal is thought to have a proper pleasure, as
it has a proper function; viz. that which corresponds to its activity. If we
survey them species by species, too, this will be evident; horse, dog, and man
have different pleasures, as Heraclitus says 'asses would prefer sweepings to
gold'; for food is pleasanter than gold to asses. So the pleasures of creatures
different in kind differ in kind, and it is plausible to suppose that those of
a single species do not differ. But they vary to no small extent, in the case
of men at least; the same things delight some people and pain others, and are
painful and odious to some, and pleasant to and liked by others. This happens,
too, in the case of sweet things; the same things do not seem sweet to a man in
a fever and a healthy man-nor hot to a weak man and one in good condition. The
same happens in other cases. But in all such matters that which appears to the
good man is thought to be really so. If this is correct, as it seems to be, and
virtue and the good man as such are the measure of each thing, those also will
be pleasures which appear so to him, and those things pleasant which he enjoys.
If the things he finds tiresome seem pleasant to some one, that is nothing
surprising; for men may be ruined and spoilt in many ways; but the things are
not pleasant, but only pleasant to these people and to people in this
condition. Those which are admittedly disgraceful plainly should not be said to
be pleasures, except to a perverted taste; but of those that are thought to be
good what kind of pleasure or what pleasure should be said to be that proper to
man? Is it not plain from the corresponding activities? The pleasures follow
these. Whether, then, the perfect and supremely happy man has one or more
activities, the pleasures that perfect these will be said in the strict sense
to be pleasures proper to man, and the rest will be so in a secondary and
fractional way, as are the activities.
6
Now that we have spoken of the virtues, the forms of
friendship, and the varieties of pleasure, what remains is to discuss in
outline the nature of happiness, since this is what we state the end of human
nature to be. Our discussion will be the more concise if we first sum up what
we have said already. We said, then, that it is not a disposition; for if it
were it might belong to some one who was asleep throughout his life, living the
life of a plant, or, again, to some one who was suffering the greatest
misfortunes. If these implications are unacceptable, and we must rather class
happiness as an activity, as we have said before, and if some activities are
necessary, and desirable for the sake of something else, while others are so in
themselves, evidently happiness must be placed among those desirable in
themselves, not among those desirable for the sake of something else; for
happiness does not lack anything, but is self-sufficient. Now those activities
are desirable in themselves from which nothing is sought beyond the activity. And
of this nature virtuous actions are thought to be; for to do noble and good
deeds is a thing desirable for its own sake.
Pleasant amusements also are thought to be of this
nature; we choose them not for the sake of other things; for we are injured
rather than benefited by them, since we are led to neglect our bodies and our
property. But most of the people who are deemed happy take refuge in such
pastimes, which is the reason why those who are ready-witted at them are highly
esteemed at the courts of tyrants; they make themselves pleasant companions in
the tyrants' favourite pursuits, and that is the sort of man they want. Now
these things are thought to be of the nature of happiness because people in
despotic positions spend their leisure in them, but perhaps such people prove
nothing; for virtue and reason, from which good activities flow, do not depend
on despotic position; nor, if these people, who have never tasted pure and
generous pleasure, take refuge in the bodily pleasures, should these for that
reason be thought more desirable; for boys, too, think the things that are
valued among themselves are the best. It is to be expected, then, that, as
different things seem valuable to boys and to men, so they should to bad men
and to good. Now, as we have often maintained, those things are both valuable
and pleasant which are such to the good man; and to each man the activity in
accordance with his own disposition is most desirable, and, therefore, to the
good man that which is in accordance with virtue. Happiness, therefore, does
not lie in amusement; it would, indeed, be strange if the end were amusement,
and one were to take trouble and suffer hardship all one's life in order to
amuse oneself. For, in a word, everything that we choose we choose for the sake
of something else-except happiness, which is an end. Now to exert oneself and
work for the sake of amusement seems silly and utterly childish. But to amuse
oneself in order that one may exert oneself, as Anacharsis puts it, seems
right; for amusement is a sort of relaxation, and we need relaxation because we
cannot work continuously. Relaxation, then, is not an end; for it is taken for
the sake of activity.
The happy life is thought to be virtuous; now a
virtuous life requires exertion, and does not consist in amusement. And we say
that serious things are better than laughable things and those connected with
amusement, and that the activity of the better of any two things-whether it be
two elements of our being or two men-is the more serious; but the activity of
the better is ipso facto superior and more of the nature of happiness. And any
chance person-even a slave-can enjoy the bodily pleasures no less than the best
man; but no one assigns to a slave a share in happiness-unless he assigns to
him also a share in human life. For happiness does not lie in such occupations,
but, as we have said before, in virtuous activities.
7
If happiness is activity in accordance with virtue, it
is reasonable that it should be in accordance with the highest virtue; and this
will be that of the best thing in us. Whether it be reason or something else
that is this element which is thought to be our natural ruler and guide and to
take thought of things noble and divine, whether it be itself also divine or
only the most divine element in us, the activity of this in accordance with its
proper virtue will be perfect happiness. That this activity is contemplative we
have already said.
Now this would seem to be in agreement both with what
we said before and with the truth. For, firstly, this activity is the best
(since not only is reason the best thing in us, but the objects of reason are
the best of knowable objects); and secondly, it is the most continuous, since
we can contemplate truth more continuously than we can do anything. And we
think happiness has pleasure mingled with it, but the activity of philosophic
wisdom is admittedly the pleasantest of virtuous activities; at all events the
pursuit of it is thought to offer pleasures marvellous for their purity and
their enduringness, and it is to be expected that those who know will pass
their time more pleasantly than those who inquire. And the self-sufficiency
that is spoken of must belong most to the contemplative activity. For while a
philosopher, as well as a just man or one possessing any other virtue, needs
the necessaries of life, when they are sufficiently equipped with things of
that sort the just man needs people towards whom and with whom he shall act
justly, and the temperate man, the brave man, and each of the others is in the
same case, but the philosopher, even when by himself, can contemplate truth,
and the better the wiser he is; he can perhaps do so better if he has
fellow-workers, but still he is the most self-sufficient. And this activity
alone would seem to be loved for its own sake; for nothing arises from it apart
from the contemplating, while from practical activities we gain more or less
apart from the action. And happiness is thought to depend on leisure; for we
are busy that we may have leisure, and make war that we may live in peace. Now
the activity of the practical virtues is exhibited in political or military
affairs, but the actions concerned with these seem to be unleisurely. Warlike
actions are completely so (for no one chooses to be at war, or provokes war,
for the sake of being at war; any one would seem absolutely murderous if he
were to make enemies of his friends in order to bring about battle and
slaughter); but the action of the statesman is also unleisurely, and-apart from
the political action itself-aims at despotic power and honours, or at all
events happiness, for him and his fellow citizens-a happiness different from
political action, and evidently sought as being different. So if among virtuous
actions political and military actions are distinguished by nobility and
greatness, and these are unleisurely and aim at an end and are not desirable
for their own sake, but the activity of reason, which is contemplative, seems
both to be superior in serious worth and to aim at no end beyond itself, and to
have its pleasure proper to itself (and this augments the activity), and the
self-sufficiency, leisureliness, unweariedness (so far as this is possible for
man), and all the other attributes ascribed to the supremely happy man are
evidently those connected with this activity, it follows that this will be the
complete happiness of man, if it be allowed a complete term of life (for none
of the attributes of happiness is incomplete).
But such a life would be too high for man; for it is
not in so far as he is man that he will live so, but in so far as something
divine is present in him; and by so much as this is superior to our composite
nature is its activity superior to that which is the exercise of the other kind
of virtue. If reason is divine, then, in comparison with man, the life
according to it is divine in comparison with human life. But we must not follow
those who advise us, being men, to think of human things, and, being mortal, of
mortal things, but must, so far as we can, make ourselves immortal, and strain
every nerve to live in accordance with the best thing in us; for even if it be
small in bulk, much more does it in power and worth surpass everything. This
would seem, too, to be each man himself, since it is the authoritative and
better part of him. It would be strange, then, if he were to choose not the
life of his self but that of something else. And what we said before' will
apply now; that which is proper to each thing is by nature best and most
pleasant for each thing; for man, therefore, the life according to reason is
best and pleasantest, since reason more than anything else is man. This life
therefore is also the happiest.
8
But in a secondary degree the life in accordance with
the other kind of virtue is happy; for the activities in accordance with this
befit our human estate. Just and brave acts, and other virtuous acts, we do in
relation to each other, observing our respective duties with regard to
contracts and services and all manner of actions and with regard to passions;
and all of these seem to be typically human. Some of them seem even to arise
from the body, and virtue of character to be in many ways bound up with the
passions. Practical wisdom, too, is linked to virtue of character, and this to
practical wisdom, since the principles of practical wisdom are in accordance
with the moral virtues and rightness in morals is in accordance with practical
wisdom. Being connected with the passions also, the moral virtues must belong
to our composite nature; and the virtues of our composite nature are human; so,
therefore, are the life and the happiness which correspond to these. The
excellence of the reason is a thing apart; we must be content to say this much
about it, for to describe it precisely is a task greater than our purpose
requires. It would seem, however, also to need external equipment but little,
or less than moral virtue does. Grant that both need the necessaries, and do so
equally, even if the statesman's work is the more concerned with the body and
things of that sort; for there will be little difference there; but in what
they need for the exercise of their activities there will be much difference. The
liberal man will need money for the doing of his liberal deeds, and the just
man too will need it for the returning of services (for wishes are hard to
discern, and even people who are not just pretend to wish to act justly); and
the brave man will need power if he is to accomplish any of the acts that correspond
to his virtue, and the temperate man will need opportunity; for how else is
either he or any of the others to be recognized? It is debated, too, whether
the will or the deed is more essential to virtue, which is assumed to involve
both; it is surely clear that its perfection involves both; but for deeds many
things are needed, and more, the greater and nobler the deeds are. But the man
who is contemplating the truth needs no such thing, at least with a view to the
exercise of his activity; indeed they are, one may say, even hindrances, at all
events to his contemplation; but in so far as he is a man and lives with a
number of people, he chooses to do virtuous acts; he will therefore need such
aids to living a human life.
But that perfect happiness is a contemplative activity
will appear from the following consideration as well. We assume the gods to be
above all other beings blessed and happy; but what sort of actions must we
assign to them? Acts of justice? Will not the gods seem absurd if they make contracts
and return deposits, and so on? Acts of a brave man, then, confronting dangers
and running risks because it is noble to do so? Or liberal acts? To whom will
they give? It will be strange if they are really to have money or anything of
the kind. And what would their temperate acts be? Is not such praise tasteless,
since they have no bad appetites? If we were to run through them all, the
circumstances of action would be found trivial and unworthy of gods. Still,
every one supposes that they live and therefore that they are active; we cannot
suppose them to sleep like Endymion. Now if you take away from a living being
action, and still more production, what is left but contemplation? Therefore
the activity of God, which surpasses all others in blessedness, must be
contemplative; and of human activities, therefore, that which is most akin to
this must be most of the nature of happiness.
This is indicated, too, by the fact that the other
animals have no share in happiness, being completely deprived of such activity.
For while the whole life of the gods is blessed, and that of men too in so far
as some likeness of such activity belongs to them, none of the other animals is
happy, since they in no way share in contemplation. Happiness extends, then,
just so far as contemplation does, and those to whom contemplation more fully
belongs are more truly happy, not as a mere concomitant but in virtue of the
contemplation; for this is in itself precious. Happiness, therefore, must be
some form of contemplation.
But, being a man, one will also need external
prosperity; for our nature is not self-sufficient for the purpose of
contemplation, but our body also must be healthy and must have food and other
attention. Still, we must not think that the man who is to be happy will need
many things or great things, merely because he cannot be supremely happy
without external goods; for self-sufficiency and action do not involve excess,
and we can do noble acts without ruling earth and sea; for even with moderate
advantages one can act virtuously (this is manifest enough; for private persons
are thought to do worthy acts no less than despots-indeed even more); and it is
enough that we should have so much as that; for the life of the man who is
active in accordance with virtue will be happy. Solon, too, was perhaps
sketching well the happy man when he described him as moderately furnished with
externals but as having done (as Solon thought) the noblest acts, and lived
temperately; for one can with but moderate possessions do what one ought. Anaxagoras
also seems to have supposed the happy man not to be rich nor a despot, when he
said that he would not be surprised if the happy man were to seem to most
people a strange person; for they judge by externals, since these are all they
perceive. The opinions of the wise seem, then, to harmonize with our arguments.
But while even such things carry some conviction, the truth in practical
matters is discerned from the facts of life; for these are the decisive factor.
We must therefore survey what we have already said, bringing it to the test of
the facts of life, and if it harmonizes with the facts we must accept it, but
if it clashes with them we must suppose it to be mere theory. Now he who
exercises his reason and cultivates it seems to be both in the best state of
mind and most dear to the gods. For if the gods have any care for human
affairs, as they are thought to have, it would be reasonable both that they
should delight in that which was best and most akin to them (i.e. reason) and
that they should reward those who love and honour this most, as caring for the
things that are dear to them and acting both rightly and nobly. And that all
these attributes belong most of all to the philosopher is manifest. He,
therefore, is the dearest to the gods. And he who is that will presumably be
also the happiest; so that in this way too the philosopher will more than any
other be happy.
9
If these matters and the virtues, and also friendship
and pleasure, have been dealt with sufficiently in outline, are we to suppose
that our programme has reached its end? Surely, as the saying goes, where there
are things to be done the end is not to survey and recognize the various
things, but rather to do them; with regard to virtue, then, it is not enough to
know, but we must try to have and use it, or try any other way there may be of
becoming good. Now if arguments were in themselves enough to make men good,
they would justly, as Theognis says, have won very great rewards, and such
rewards should have been provided; but as things are, while they seem to have
power to encourage and stimulate the generous-minded among our youth, and to
make a character which is gently born, and a true lover of what is noble, ready
to be possessed by virtue, they are not able to encourage the many to nobility
and goodness. For these do not by nature obey the sense of shame, but only
fear, and do not abstain from bad acts because of their baseness but through
fear of punishment; living by passion they pursue their own pleasures and the
means to them, and and the opposite pains, and have not even a conception of
what is noble and truly pleasant, since they have never tasted it. What
argument would remould such people? It is hard, if not impossible, to remove by
argument the traits that have long since been incorporated in the character;
and perhaps we must be content if, when all the influences by which we are
thought to become good are present, we get some tincture of virtue.
Now some think that we are made good by nature, others
by habituation, others by teaching. Nature's part evidently does not depend on
us, but as a result of some divine causes is present in those who are truly
fortunate; while argument and teaching, we may suspect, are not powerful with
all men, but the soul of the student must first have been cultivated by means
of habits for noble joy and noble hatred, like earth which is to nourish the
seed. For he who lives as passion directs will not hear argument that dissuades
him, nor understand it if he does; and how can we persuade one in such a state
to change his ways? And in general passion seems to yield not to argument but
to force. The character, then, must somehow be there already with a kinship to
virtue, loving what is noble and hating what is base.
But it is difficult to get from youth up a right
training for virtue if one has not been brought up under right laws; for to
live temperately and hardily is not pleasant to most people, especially when
they are young. For this reason their nurture and occupations should be fixed
by law; for they will not be painful when they have become customary. But it is
surely not enough that when they are young they should get the right nurture
and attention; since they must, even when they are grown up, practise and be habituated
to them, we shall need laws for this as well, and generally speaking to cover
the whole of life; for most people obey necessity rather than argument, and
punishments rather than the sense of what is noble.
This is why some think that legislators ought to
stimulate men to virtue and urge them forward by the motive of the noble, on
the assumption that those who have been well advanced by the formation of
habits will attend to such influences; and that punishments and penalties
should be imposed on those who disobey and are of inferior nature, while the
incurably bad should be completely banished. A good man (they think), since he
lives with his mind fixed on what is noble, will submit to argument, while a
bad man, whose desire is for pleasure, is corrected by pain like a beast of
burden. This is, too, why they say the pains inflicted should be those that are
most opposed to the pleasures such men love.
However that may be, if (as we have said) the man who
is to be good must be well trained and habituated, and go on to spend his time
in worthy occupations and neither willingly nor unwillingly do bad actions, and
if this can be brought about if men live in accordance with a sort of reason
and right order, provided this has force,-if this be so, the paternal command
indeed has not the required force or compulsive power (nor in general has the
command of one man, unless he be a king or something similar), but the law has
compulsive power, while it is at the same time a rule proceeding from a sort of
practical wisdom and reason. And while people hate men who oppose their
impulses, even if they oppose them rightly, the law in its ordaining of what is
good is not burdensome.
In the Spartan state alone, or almost alone, the
legislator seems to have paid attention to questions of nurture and
occupations; in most states such matters have been neglected, and each man
lives as he pleases, Cyclops-fashion, 'to his own wife and children dealing
law'. Now it is best that there should be a public and proper care for such
matters; but if they are neglected by the community it would seem right for
each man to help his children and friends towards virtue, and that they should
have the power, or at least the will, to do this.
It would seem from what has been said that he can do
this better if he makes himself capable of legislating. For public control is
plainly effected by laws, and good control by good laws; whether written or
unwritten would seem to make no difference, nor whether they are laws providing
for the education of individuals or of groups-any more than it does in the case
of music or gymnastics and other such pursuits. For as in cities laws and
prevailing types of character have force, so in households do the injunctions
and the habits of the father, and these have even more because of the tie of
blood and the benefits he confers; for the children start with a natural
affection and disposition to obey. Further, private education has an advantage
over public, as private medical treatment has; for while in general rest and
abstinence from food are good for a man in a fever, for a particular man they
may not be; and a boxer presumably does not prescribe the same style of
fighting to all his pupils. It would seem, then, that the detail is worked out
with more precision if the control is private; for each person is more likely
to get what suits his case.
But the details can be best looked after, one by one,
by a doctor or gymnastic instructor or any one else who has the general
knowledge of what is good for every one or for people of a certain kind (for
the sciences both are said to be, and are, concerned with what is universal);
not but what some particular detail may perhaps be well looked after by an
unscientific person, if he has studied accurately in the light of experience
what happens in each case, just as some people seem to be their own best
doctors, though they could give no help to any one else. None the less, it will
perhaps be agreed that if a man does wish to become master of an art or science
he must go to the universal, and come to know it as well as possible; for, as
we have said, it is with this that the sciences are concerned.
And surely he who wants to make men, whether many or
few, better by his care must try to become capable of legislating, if it is
through laws that we can become good. For to get any one whatever-any one who
is put before us-into the right condition is not for the first chance comer; if
any one can do it, it is the man who knows, just as in medicine and all other
matters which give scope for care and prudence.
Must we not, then, next examine whence or how one can
learn how to legislate? Is it, as in all other cases, from statesmen? Certainly
it was thought to be a part of statesmanship. Or is a difference apparent between
statesmanship and the other sciences and arts? In the others the same people
are found offering to teach the arts and practising them, e.g. doctors or
painters; but while the sophists profess to teach politics, it is practised not
by any of them but by the politicians, who would seem to do so by dint of a
certain skill and experience rather than of thought; for they are not found
either writing or speaking about such matters (though it were a nobler
occupation perhaps than composing speeches for the law-courts and the
assembly), nor again are they found to have made statesmen of their own sons or
any other of their friends. But it was to be expected that they should if they
could; for there is nothing better than such a skill that they could have left to
their cities, or could prefer to have for themselves, or, therefore, for those
dearest to them. Still, experience seems to contribute not a little; else they
could not have become politicians by familiarity with politics; and so it seems
that those who aim at knowing about the art of politics need experience as
well.
But those of the sophists who profess the art seem to
be very far from teaching it. For, to put the matter generally, they do not
even know what kind of thing it is nor what kinds of things it is about;
otherwise they would not have classed it as identical with rhetoric or even
inferior to it, nor have thought it easy to legislate by collecting the laws
that are thought well of; they say it is possible to select the best laws, as
though even the selection did not demand intelligence and as though right
judgement were not the greatest thing, as in matters of music. For while people
experienced in any department judge rightly the works produced in it, and
understand by what means or how they are achieved, and what harmonizes with
what, the inexperienced must be content if they do not fail to see whether the
work has been well or ill made-as in the case of painting. Now laws are as it
were the' works' of the political art; how then can one learn from them to be a
legislator, or judge which are best? Even medical men do not seem to be made by
a study of text-books. Yet people try, at any rate, to state not only the
treatments, but also how particular classes of people can be cured and should
be treated-distinguishing the various habits of body; but while this seems
useful to experienced people, to the inexperienced it is valueless. Surely,
then, while collections of laws, and of constitutions also, may be serviceable
to those who can study them and judge what is good or bad and what enactments
suit what circumstances, those who go through such collections without a
practised faculty will not have right judgement (unless it be as a spontaneous
gift of nature), though they may perhaps become more intelligent in such
matters.
Now our predecessors have left the subject of
legislation to us unexamined; it is perhaps best, therefore, that we should
ourselves study it, and in general study the question of the constitution, in
order to complete to the best of our ability our philosophy of human nature. First,
then, if anything has been said well in detail by earlier thinkers, let us try
to review it; then in the light of the constitutions we have collected let us
study what sorts of influence preserve and destroy states, and what sorts
preserve or destroy the particular kinds of constitution, and to what causes it
is due that some are well and others ill administered. When these have been
studied we shall perhaps be more likely to see with a comprehensive view, which
constitution is best, and how each must be ordered, and what laws and customs
it must use, if it is to be at its best. Let us make a beginning of our
discussion.
THE END
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