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Department of Ethics W^ 
Leland Stbnford Junior University i If ■ 


Prtmileildv lie riaas of \%'\'\-T HH 

■ 1 

















By B, W. BBOWNE, M.A., Ph. D., 

FOImo qf King's CoUege, London: and Ckmon qf Wdlt 




' tX u-^ / 

(V ^tl<^ 

Beprinted from Stereotype plates. 


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

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

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

For such further information as is not contained in the 
^otes, the reader is referred to the commentaries of M ichelct 



the notes of Cardwell, the edition of the eighth and ninth 
books by Fritzsch, Brewer's edition of the Ethics, Blakesley*3 
life of Aristotle, the philosophical articles in the Encyclo- 
psedia Metropolitana, Whateley's Logic, and Ritter's History 
of Philosophy,* in which latter work will be found an able 
and lucid analysis of the Ethics of Aristotle, as well as a 
complete investigation of all the systems of the ancient 
philosophers. The ingenious and able defence of the sophists 
iH the eighth voliane of Grote's History of Greece may 
be advantageously studied with reference to the bearing of 
ikeir doctrines on the subject of ethical philosophy. 

• Translated br A. J. \V. Morrivoa. 


Ethics, according to the theory of Aristotle, formed but a 7 
subdiTi^n of the Ireat and comprehensiye ^iencc of poU- \ 
tics. Man is ia political or social being ; that science, there- 
fore, which professed to investigate the subject of human 
good, would study the nature of man, not only as an indi- 
vidual, but also in his relation to his fellows, as a member 
of a fkmily, and as a member of a state, or political com- 

Aristotle, therefore, following out this view, divides poli- 
tics into three parts : Ethics, Economics, and Politics strictly v 
so called. Ethics, therefore, or the science of individual \ 
good, must be the ground-work of the rest ; families and ( 
states are composed of individuals ; unless, therefore, the \ 
parts be good, the whole cannot be perfect. The develop- ' 
ment, therefore, of the prLuciples of man's moral nature 
must necessarily precede, and be an introduction to an 
investigation of the principles of human society. This is the '• 
place which ethical science occupies in Aristotle's system : ' 
it is the introduction to politics, or the science of social 
Kfe. ; 

It is plain, from these considerations, that ethics, accord- . 
ing to Aristotle, form a subdivision of a great practical \ 
subject ; he does not therefore consider it necessary to 
examine into the abstract natin'e of good, but only to pursue 
the investigation so fiar as it relates to man. So utterly 
unconnected with his subject does he consider any ideal or 
absolute standard of good, that he even denies that the 
knowledge or contemplation of it can be in any way usefci' 
to the study of that good which falls within the province of 
human nature, and is therefore attainable bv man. In this. . 
as wcU as in man^ other respects, the pva tical ivatwi^i oi \aa 



/ miud is strongly contrasted with tlie poetical idealism of his 
\ great master Plato. 

^ The foundation of Aristotle's system of ethics is deeply 

laid in his psychological system. On the nature of the 

human soul the whole fabric is built up, and depends for its 

' support. According to our author, we are bom with a 

\ natural capacity for receiving virtuous impressions, and for 

I forming virtuous habits : and his conception of the nature 

of this capacity is so high a one, that he does not hesitate 

j to term it '^ nft'tnyg^l vjrt'^if^-" We are endowed with a moral 

\ sense {aiffdri(ng), a perception of moral beauty and excellence, 

\ and with an acuteness on practical subjects (hivorrig), which, 

I when cultivated, is improved into (ppovrjaiQ (prudence or moral 

Tt wisdom). From all these considerations, therefore, it is plain 

V\ that, according to Aristotle, virtue is the law under which 

f \ we are bom, the law of nature, that law which, if we would 

Wtain to happiness, we are bound to ful£l. Happiness^ 

in its highest and purest sense, is our "being's end and 

aim ;" and this is an energy or activity of the soul according 

to the law of virtue : an energy of the purest of the capacities 

of the soTil, of that capacity which is proper and peculiar to 

man alone ; namely, intellect or reascm?^ Designed, then, as 

man is for virtuous energies, endo'Cfed with capacities for 

moral action, with a natural taste and appreciation for that 

which is morally beautiful, with a natural disposition or 

instinct, as it were, to good acts ; virtue, and therefore 

happiness, becomes possible and attainable. Had this not 

been the case, all moral instruction would be useless. That 

Ifor which nature had not given man a capacity would have 
been beyond his reach ; for that which exists by nature can 
never by custom be made to be otherwise. 

But this natural disposition or bias is, according to Aris- 

( totle, a mere potentiality ; it is possessed, but not active, 

\ not energizing. It is necessary that it shoiild be directed by 

/ the will, and that the will in its turn should be directed to 

; a right end by deliberate preference ; i. e, by moral prin- 

\ dple. From his belief in the existence of this natural 

capacity, and this bias or inclination towards virtue, and 

moreover from his believing that man was a free and 

voluntary agent, Aristotle necessarily holds the responsibility 

of m&ih Man has power over his individual actions to dc 


ior to abstain. By repeated acts^ habits are formed cither of 
virtue or vice ; and, therefore, for hiS whole character when 
formed, as well as for each act which contributes to its 
formation, man is responsible. Not that men have always 
power over their acts, when their character is formed ; but 
what he contends for is, that they have power over them 
whilst their moral character is in process of formation; 
and that, therefore, they must, in all reason, be held respon- 
rible for the permanent effects which their conduct in par- 
ticular acts hSaa produced, and which they must at every 
step have seen gradually resulting. 

What then is virtue 1 In the solution of that part of 
this question which has not already been answered, the 
practical nature of Aristotle's mind is exhibited in an 
eminent degree. It has been seen that it is a habit, that 
it is based upon the natural capacities of the human soul, 
that it is formed and established by a voluntar}" agent 
acting under the guidance of deliberate preference or moral 
principle. But to these conditions it is also necessary to 
add, what is the end or object at which the habit is to aim. 

Experie nce, then, that great practical guide in human 
affair^ teaches us what that end is. An induction of 
instances shows that it is a mean between excess and defect ; 
not, indeed, an absolute mean, but a relative one ; that is, 
one relative to the internal moral constitution, and to the 
external circimistances and condition, of the moral agents. 

IOf this relative mean, each man must judge for himself by 
the light of his conscience, and his moral sense, purified by 
moral discipline, and enlightened by education. The moral 
philosopher can only lay down general principles for man-d 
guidance, and each individual man must do the rest. The 
casuist may profess to be more particular, he may profess to 
lay down accurate special rules of conduct, which will meet 
every individual case, but his professions will be unfulfilled : 
he will, from the very nature of the subject, which, lieing a 
moral one, will not admit of mathematical exactness, fail of 
making morals a definite and exact science. There must, 
and will always be, room left for the moral sense and prac- 
tical wisdom of each individual, to exercise in each ease of 
Bnoral action its judicial functions. If, in tliis ca«e, or in 
any other, you deal with men in this way, you wc^ \v>A\\\^ 


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

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


In tlie practical consideration of each individual Tirtue, 
Aristotle necessarily treats of moral and intellectual virtue 
separately from each, other ; but we must not suppose^ for 
that reason, that he thought they could exist separately^ 
According to his view, moral virtue implies the due regula- 
tion of our moral nature, with aU its appetites, instincts, and 
passions ; and this state only exists when they are subordi- 
nate to tiie dominion and control of the reasoning faculties. 
Again, the reason does not act with all the vigour of which 
it is naturally capable, unless our moral nature is in a well- 
r^fulated state. Hence the different parts of human natm^e 
reciprocally act and react upon each other, every good reso- 
lution carried into effect, every act of self-control and moral 
discipline, increases the vigour of the pure reason, and renders 
the highest faculty of our nature more and more able to 
perform its work. Again, the more powerful the reason 
becomes, the fewer external obstacles, such as vice presents 
to its energies, the intellect meets with, the more eflfectually 
loes it influence the moral nature, and strengthen, confirm, 
and render permanent the moral habits. Thus continence is 
gradually improved into temperance ; and if himian nature 
were capable of attaining perfection, man would attain to 
that ideal standard which Ajdstotle terms heroic virtue. 
^ But this is above human nature, and is impossible to 
attain, just as its opposite, brutality, is never foimd, so long 
as human nature continues in its normal condition, but only 
in cases where bodily mutilation, or moral perversion, or the 
influence of barbarism, has so fkr degraded the human being, 
that he may be considered as having entirely ceased to be 

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


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

But as liappiness is an energy or activity of the soul 
according to its highest excellence, and that this must be 
that which is the characteristic property of man, namely, 
pure intellectual excellencdt it is evident that contemplative 
happiness is superior to eve^ otherE^d,"aid constitutes the 
'fchief good of man. Although happiness must be sought for 
and arrived at by the formation of habits of practical virtue, 
still all other virtues must be pursued with a view to the 

i final gratification of our intellectual nature / the end of the 
cultivation of all virtue is to fit us for the pute and unmixed 
enjoyment of contemplation.) Contemplative enjoyment is 
the most perfect, most permanent, and most independent of 
external helps and appliances. 

If, then, after all that has been said respecting moral 
practical virtue, contemplation is the end and object of man. 
his chief good, his highest happiness, why has Aristotle said 
so much of the practical nature of human happiness 1 why 
has he attributed so much importance to the formation of 
the moral character 1 why has he leffc the subject of contem- 
plative happiness to be briefly discussed at the very conclu- 
sion of his treatise ? / 
/ The answer to these questions is plain. / Until the moral 
^l character is formed, man is unfit, not only for the enjoyment, 
) but alao for forming a correct conception and appreciation of 
j ilie happiness which is derived from contemplation. Place 
before his eyes in the conuneneement of his search after 
Aoppjpess intellectual contemplation, as the end at which he 


fe aiming, and he would neither be able to understa' d its 
nature, nor estimate its value. It is by the gradual }>erfec- 
ition of our moral nature, and by this method only, that we 
I are brought into that state in which the intellectual principle 
is able to act purely and uninterruptedly. The improvement 
of our moral and intellectual faculties will go on parallel to 
one anothei^. Every evil habit conquered, every good habit 
formed, will remove an obstacle to the energy of the intellect, 
and asdst in invigorating its nature. Begin with contem* 
plation, and we shall neither find subjects for it, of a nature 
Bufficiently exalted to insure real happiness, nor be in a 
condition to derive happiness from such subjects, if suggested 

tus. Begin with moral training, and we shall attain to 
;her capacities for intellectual happiness, whether derived 
m the contemplation of abstract truth, or of the perfec- 
ns and attributes of the Deity.* The Christian philoso- 
pner will easily imderstand the value of this method of 
teaching ; for he knows that it is revealed to us, that in 
divine things moral training is the way to intellectujil culti- 
vation, that the heart is the way to the understanding — " If 
any man will do God's will, he shall know of the doctrine 
whether it be of God." (St. John vii 17.) It is plain that, 
in this respect, the way which the heathen moralist has 
pointed out to the attainment of happiness is that which is 
iiost in accordance with the principles of human nature, 
ani therefore with the laws of Him who is both the author 
of ivvelation, and of the moral constitution of man. 

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

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


fbra tl)t> NVultkiH) aiid liappinoss, of the body depends ; for aa 
iu A fituto, i, «. a fix>e »UiU\ the soui\>e of power is ultimately 
the iMHu^lo, on tht> laond toiio of the people, the character of 
tho iUHt4t\iUoiis fiiuutHl by their i^pivsentatives must depend. 
lUn\iH> a stato must n^iH^uze the moral culture and ^uca- 
tiv]a\ cvt' tlu> (HH>plo a^ a duty. PriTate systems of education 
uu^Y, do\ihthv^ )Hxs$02^ iik^mo ad>*antages> such as their superior 
iNj^^^lvilitv i4' Wiu^ u\o\iUU\l ami adapted to the particular 
vnixnuustMUVs* lU* individual i*ases» but still they are inferior 
to a puWio ouo» iu uuitlunuity» iu the jK>wer of enforcing their 
%\ithivnn\ auvi iu pixxluoiuv;: grv^ut and extensive resohsw 
ASk th^vfvnw thti» elements i>f moral virtue must be incol* 
caW^i auvl iu\)4anted by moral education, the indiridual hss 
1^ vi^t tv^ vieu\aud that ^uxn-icNiou be made tor this by w«U> 
reflated public iu$titutiv>i\^ and. in order to attain sndi 
itt^UtutivH^ The scieuvv v>t* jK^Iitics vm: social life must be 
iuv^f<cjtli^U\l vU" jiv^emAtiied. Buc besidetN in on.ler even to 
>*KHUV I he a^lYaut;!^^^B!^ vxf |w"ate eduouion* vbatever tiKse 
#)\aut^'^^ may be^ it is^ uecet^sary thas evvnr one who woaki 
vsmvUkct au\l a«.luuiu$cer such a svscem er&cicntlT c^hoald stisiv 

% m mm 

%W ^eiK'nil (K^ucal pruKipIe:^ ot' educatioo. and th;^ endea- 
wur ^v^ dt hiujus^flf tor W^:iE>iatin^ re^vc!:iii^ them. Obl all 
.KWHiuQ^ thereioK^ tl)« study of tuonJs is no« complere. 
ttttl<«f«!i$ tKat ojf ^viiucs^ i? su; vniiLfeiwt ^aetd the latter 5tviily 
i^HA^id W piiCi^iisNiL ifcot ci'Jy cy rosf state^aKan* bet by zliy± 

TW aN^>ie iSi^Jti^nd vHiLtliBie of Ariscoue^s echiiaiL system. 
i)ti ^felbk^ tbw' :sev«al r<arts^ an? destsjT&edlx^ 3s>« pteaence-i. r: 
ttk!^ \t!cw ut tOi^ ocuier ^woiidt be lui^ ticasM them, bcr; 
i)b(Sjj^'^x\il ut toetr rv^ifii^r^ Inmctk^ :i:rcii eairh. orhty. -rJL in 
ia^ !l^>^ W T^odiictetiv tQ ^cvciurv tbie Ttfrni <7C tae acitAHi:^ 
tibr ^ae Axuicafiir ^atsjuvjis ^c eaca ,'ii2]^ter ;»p«;:acer- v inas 


B0©K I. 

Iwtrodu/ctory, — ^A question lies at the very threshold of 
fche investigation ; namely, whether there is any ddef good^ 
(^wrmnwtn honuTini), and if there is, wHeihef It be, oir can be 
brought within the reach of the capacities of man. Having 
answered these questions in the affirmative, Aristotle pro- 
ceeds to shoysr what its nature and essence is. That all, or 
nearly all, agree in calling it happiness, is clear ; but this is 
not enough j it must be define ST i^s" properties analyzed, its 
naJtiu;:eL.exgL^e3; After, therefore, examining~'an3 s'Stlng"" 
^hat opinions ^ISVe been generally held respecting it, as 
weU popularly as by philosophers, he proceeds to define and 
explsun his own idea respecting it, and to defend the accu- 
racy of his views by comparing it with those of others. 
Certain questions arising odt oi tEe"nI5tir5d of discussion 
which he has pursued, but of no practical importance, 
such, for example, as the well-known saying of Solon, are 
briefly alluded to ; and respecting them he comes to no 
very satisfactory conclusion. And, lastly, the theory which 
he has adopted leads him to state, in a few words, the 
general principles of man's psychical constitution. 

I. — 1. Every art, ^stem, course of action, and delibei*ate 
preference, a ims at so me good. 

Hence the^gbod is defined " that which aU aim at." 

2. There ar§ diflferences of ends; namely, energies and 
wpik a. — ^ 

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

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

11.-1^1. There is some end of hiunan action wiiicli is 
desired for its own sake. 

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

The political science proved to be the chief science by 
Beveral reasons and examples. 

2. The knowledge of the cud useful^ 


fbre the welfare and happiness, of the body depends ; for aa 
in a state, i. e. & free state, the source of power is ultimately 
the people, on the moral tone of the people, the character of 
the institutions framed by their representatives must depend. 
Hence a state must recognize the moral culture and educa- 
tion of the people as a duty. Private systems of education 
may, doubtless, possess some advantages, such as their superior 
capability of being moulded and adapted to the particular 
circumstances of indi\4dual cases, but still they are inferior 
to a public one, in imiformity, in the power of enforcing their 
authority, and in producing great and extensive results. 
As, therefore, the elements of moral virtue must be incul- 
cated and implanted by moi'al education, the individual has 
a right to demand that provision be made for this by well- 
regulated public institutions, and, in order to attain such 
institutions, the science of politics or social life must be 
investigated or systematized. But besides, in order even to 
secure the advantages of private education, whatever these 
advantages may be, it is necessary that every one who would 
conduct and administer such a system efficiently should study 
the general political principles of education, and thus endea- 
vour to fit himself for legislating respecting them. On all 
accounts, therefore, the study of morals is not complete, 
unless that of politics is superaddedpand the latter study 
should be pursued, not only by the statesman, but by the 
private citizen. 

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



B0©K I. 

InU/rodu/story, — ^A question lies at the very threshold of 
fch6 inyestigation ; namely, whether there is any chief good^ 
(Bummu^n honv/m^, and if there is, whether it be, or can be 
brought within the reach of the capacities of man. Having 
answered these questions in the aflSrmative, Aristotle pro- 
ceeds to show what its nature and essence is. That all, or 
nearly all, agroe in calling it happiness, is clear ; but this is 

what opinions "EaVe been generally held respecting it, as 
well popularly as by philosophers, he proceeds to define and 
explam his own idea respecting it, and to defend the accu- 
racy of his views by comparing it with those of others. 
Certain questions arising odt of the BSethod of discussion 
which he has pursued, but of no practical importance, 
sach, for example, as the well-known saying of Solon, are 
briefly alluded to ; and respecting them he comes to no 
very satisfitctory conclusion. And, lastly, the theory which 
he has adopted leads him to state, in a few words, the 
general principles of man's psychical constitution. 

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

Hence thegooS lis defined "that which all aim at." 

2. There are differences of ends; namely, energies and 
jwpoA a. ~ 

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

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

IL— ^1. There is some end of hiunan action which is 
desired for its own sake. 

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

The political science proved to be the chief science by 
BBTeral reasons and examples. 

2. The knowledge of the end useful. 

*- ^ 

Khr ANALYSIS OF [book i ^ 

G. Tha subi ect of ' thejeadJlitloDSft to jaaacal, and tliero' 
foie to politica l pbuosopny, 

Til.— 1, 2. SVe inust not expect too great accuracy in 
Hubjects of moral investigation. 

3. These subjects having to do with contingent matter, 
the conclusions arrived at must be of the same Hnd. 

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

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

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

6. The jaT^edLJ^f- this treatise is nQluJknpjsdedge^ but 
practic e. ' 

hirfiest jof aj l^oo d ? 

"^2. ^} ftF^^ ^^ calling it happiness^ but differ as to its 


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

Certain notions respecting it, including that of the " idea, * 

4. Aristotle proposes to consider the most reasonable. 

5. 6. Of the two methods of arguing ; namely, — The 
synthetical and jptnalvtical ; Arist otl e chooses the latter, for 
the following r^aay ns : — 

6. Xh in g su iir^ ^J aiow T i in two ways : (1.) Absolutely ; 
*|p.) Relative! vt opurselves^ •—-*-,.-. 

•'/ " In morals w6 must begin with the things known to our-, 
selves ; ^. e. the phenomena, and work backwards from facts 
to causes ; sometimes it is even sufficient to know the facts 
without the causes. 

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

V. — 1. The majority derive their notions respecting lia])- 
piness from the lives they lead. 

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

3. The vulgar consider that happiness consists in sensual 

This is the life of the brute creation. 


4, 5. The active think happiness is honourable distinction. 
This is not the chief good, 

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

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

6. Is virtue then the chief good 1 

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

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

8. The money-getting think wealth is happiness. 

(I.) This life does violence to our natural constitution. 
f \ (2.) Money is useful as a means, but is not an end. 
r VL — 1. The chief good is not the ideal good.* 

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

2. Plato did not allow the existence of ideas of things in 
which we predicate prj^ty and posterioritv;^ 

The good is predicated in these, -^ ^-^^"'^ 

3. A universal idea could be predicated in only one 

The good is predicated in all the categories. 

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

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

6. The theory, therefore, of the Pyth^oreans and of 
Speusippus is far more reasonable. 

7. 8. It may be objected to Aristotle's argument, that 
goods are of two kinds : those "joer «e," and those ^^pi'opt^ 
alia,^ Now Plato's theory applies to the former. 

9, 10. To this it may be answered — (1.) That even goods> 
"jt?er 86^ do not come under our definition. (2.) If the 
species contain under it no individuals, the theory is fooHsh. 

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

Probably from analogy. 

* la the original, two words of very similar meaning are made use of, 
namely, iUa and iUoq. Now lUa is the original archetypal form, which, 
according to Plato, existed from all eternity : iUoq is the existing form 
or resemblance to the lUaf which is visible to us. Although the eternal 
nature of the Platonic i^ka forbids us to call it an abstract idea, yet the 
relation between Uka and £7^0^ is precisely that which subsists between 
the abstract and concrete. 


Xfi ANALYSIS OP [boo ft l 

12 — 16. After all, if there was an jdeal good, it would to 
practically useless. 

VII. — 1 — 3. IIfiy^|^iTiAS|fi has been shown to be the chici 
irood, as being the en d of the maste r-s cience. -—-'-' 

•^ ' it 18 now proved to be ao, h^v^ ' it> the end of aU 

4, 5. There are three kinds of ends, of which the last is 
that which is sought fo r it s own sake alone, and happiness 
is this. "" '""'^ 

6, 7. Happiness is also th a yjiiff j^^q^H^ Lpp^i^sa if. ia self- 
g ufficienC^ ^"*^"^ 
^"^ S. Its oefinition arrived at in the following manner : — 

Happiness is the virtue of man, qud man. 

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

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

This is the practical life of a being which possesses reason 

11. Such a being may be either obedient to reason, or 
have it and use it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The definition of Aristotle is almost identical. 

/> — 8. Others have said that either one virtie or all virtue 
is happiness. ' 

.Aiigtotle savg that happiness is not only virtue, but a 
TJrtuoug energy. - • -- ■ ^ 


.f 9. 10. A fourth class have made pleasure happiness. 
"^ Ajistotle makes happiness in its essence, and ''per ^ 

^^: 11. The energies of virtue, in fSsw^t, unite in themselves aU 
^ ^e qualities enimierated in the Deliaa inscription. 
[ ' 12 — 14. External goods cannot make one happy, but it 
_ iis impossible, or at least not easy, to j»erform virtuous ener- 
"figies without a certain quantity of them. 
-** IX. — 1. Is happiness got by learning, or habit, or exer- 

. €ise, or by the allotment of God, or by chance ? 
■■ 2. Whether it is the gift of God, does not belong to the 

present inquiry. 
■cS3. It .is at any rate certain that it can be attained by 

l earniilg an o^ care . 
■ 4— e: It cannot come by chance : Q.) Because nature 
^ effects her work by the best means. (2.) From its veiy 
h definition. (3.) It is the end of the political science. 
^ 7. Brutes cannot be called happy. 
;^ Nor children except from hope 
8. Why /3/oc riXeioQ is added. 
X. — 1. The necessity of adding the condition ev I3(^ 

reXeio) leads to the consideration of Solon's saying that we 

ought to look to the end of life.^ 

2. The saying of Solon may be taken in two senses : — 
A man is happy when he is dead. 
He may then be safely said to have been happy. 

The first of these involves an absurdity. 

3, 4. The second leads to further questions : — 
(1.) May not a man be called happy whilst alive 1 

* In adding the condition iv fiiip TiXeitp to his definition of happiness, 
Aristotle seems to have been animated by an^ earnest desire to invest hap. 
piness with a property of permanence, fixedness, and stability. He wished 
to represent the happy man as beyond the reach of any liability to change. 
He saw that this was impossible in the case of human beings, but there 
is nothing unphilosophical in assuming a theoretical standard of this 
kind, even though practically unattainable, any more than there is in 
physics in laying down the laws of matter and motion. In morals we are 
well accustomed to recognize the principle that perseverance to the end 
in a course of obedience is required in order to obtain our final reward. 
** When the righteous turneth away from his righteousness, all his^ght- 
'ousness that he hath done shall not be mentioned,'' &c. — Ezek. xviii. 
And again, *' He that endureth unto the end, the same shall be saved.''-^ 
Matt. z. 



(2.) Are not the dead affected by the fortunes of tb« 
5. With regard to the first of these, it is absurd to be able 
to say that a man lias been happy, and yet not to be able to 
Bay so when he is actually enjoying that happiness. 

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

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

XI. — 1, 2. As to the second question, Aristotle decides 
that a man mat/ be said to be unhappy on accoimt of the 
misfortunes of bis descendants. 

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

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

XII. — 1. Philosophers divided goods into honourable, 
praiseworthy, and Ivi^AfieLc, 

Happiness cannot be a ^ui/a/iir, because dvyajieLQ can be 

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

yi^^fft fiflTin ot be.a h io[her. standari than Jhe chief ^ood. 

5. ThereTore happiness belongs to things honoured. 

XIII. — 1 — 4. As liappiness is an energy of the soul 
jiStcosdiXLgJtg ,virtue7~ve must know, (1) what virtue is ;^ 
(2) what the souHsji,, 

5, 67 The soul is divided first into two parts, the rational 
and the irrational. "" ' "* 

7 — 9. TTES^ matio nal into the vegetative and the appe- 
titive. "" -. •■ ' •-. 

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

According to another principle of division, the part obe- . 
dient to reason may be considered as belonging i«c the irra?* 
Uonal souL *"*""" • 

15. Yilte^. IS therefore twofold : — 

(l^ Intellectual, belonging to the rational souL 
(2 ) M6raT,_belonging to that which obeys reason. 


\trodudary. — Aristotle has prepared the student for tht 
^^ entB of this book, which consiBt of an inquiry into the 
origin and nature of moral virtue ; firstly, by defining hap- 
piness as an energy of tlie soul accorduig to virtue ; and, 
Beoondly, by dividing the virtues into moral and intellectual, 
in accordance with his asaumed division of the human soul. 
The oonsideration of the moral virtues takea precedence of 
that of the intellectual, because the formation of moral 
habits, and the consequent acquisition of moral virtue, must 
be the first step to the unimpeded energy of the intellect, 
and therefore to the attainment of intellectual virtue. It 
-will be observed, that, as the foundation on which to build 
up his moral system, Aristotle spumes the existence in 
man of certain capacities for virtue, which he denominates, 
at the conclusion of the sixth book, ifvaiKii aptri'i (natuial 
virtue). These he conceives may be improved by education 
and matured by habit, and thus become " virtue proper." 
Thus, although man does not by nature poaaesB virtuous 
habits, or even the commencements of these habits, still he is 
capable of receiving virtuous impres^ons by instruction, and 
of forming habits by performing acts of virtue and obedience. 
Thus, according to Aristotle, " Virtue is the law of our 
nature, under which l»w we are born." The order in which 
the questions connected with the subject, of moral virtue are 
treated o^ is 

■ (l.J The means by which rirtue ia attained. 
(2,1 Its nature and definition, 
(3.) An induction of particular instances. 
{i.) Certain practical rules. 
I, — 1. Intellectual virtue is principaUy (though not en- 
tirely, for there is such a thing as " genius") produced and 
increased by teaching. 

m2, 3. Moral virtue, as its etymology implies, by habit. 
Voral virtue ia not innate — 

(1,) Because that which is innate cannot be cliangeJ 
by habit. 

a ANAIiYSIS OF [book tu 

4. (2.) In things innate, the capacities exist in '::8 prior to 
the energies ; in virtue, the case is tie reverse. 
Vd. (3.) The practice of legisUtors bears testimony to the 
truth of this statement. 
6. (4.) Two opposite effects, virtue and vice, are due to 
one and the same cause, but natural causes can- 
not produce opposite effects. 
7 — 9. Hence we must prefer energies of a certain quality ^ 
as on them the character of the habits depends. 

11. — 1, 2. Assuming for the present that moral acts must 
be done according to the dictates of right reason, and reserv- 
ing that subject for the sixth book, let us consider the nature 
of the acts themselves. 

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

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

(1.) That acts, which avoid excess and defect, produce 
virtue, whilst excess and defect destroy it. 
€, 9. (2.) Those acts which produce virtue are in their 
turn produced by virtue. 
III. — 1. Pleasure and pain are the tests of moral habits 
being formed or not, because moral virtue is conversant with 
pleasures and pains. This position is proved in the following 
way : — 

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

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

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

these are attended with pleasure and pain. 

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

by contraaies. 
(4.) Through the pursuit of pleasures and pains, habits 
are made better or worse. b^^^t^S'^A^ 

5. Hence virtue has been thought by some toD^oTraffeta. 

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

choice and aversion. 
T. (6.) Our ideas of pleasure and pain have from child- 
hood becom3 as it were ingrained in our nature. 


8. (7.) We make^ more or less, pleasure and pan the rule 
of our actions ; and on these our habits depend. 
9, 10. (8.) Virtue is shown in struggling with difficulty, 

and nothing is so difficult to resist as pleasure. 
IV. — 1. It may be asked, what is meant by saying that 
we become just by performing just actions; are we not 
then already just, as in the case of the arts ? 
This question is answered — 

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

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

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

we only consider the excellence of the produc- 
tion, in morals we look to the character and 
motives of the person. 
The three requisites, then, for a moral act are 
CI.) Elnowledge, 

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

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

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

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

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

(1.) Because we are not called good or bad for our pas- 
i2.) We are not praised or blamed for them. 
3.) Virtue implies deliberate preference, passion does 

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

7. They are not capacities.' 
(1.) For the first and second reasons given above. 
(2.) Because our capacities are innate. 

8. Therefore virtue must be a habit. 
VI. — 1, 2. What is the difFeren'lia of virtue I 




ixii ANALYSIS OF Lbook n. 

All exoellenoe makes that of wliich it is the exoellesioe 
good, and also its cpyov. 

This is seen to be the case in the arts. 

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

3. "NoWy eyeiything continuous and divisible implies 
more, less, and equal 

4, 5, The equsd is the mean between the other two^ and 
is^ither absolute or relative. 

6. NoWy every scientific man will seek the relative meai^ 
and avoid the extremes. 

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

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

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

"* 0. Virtue, therefore, is " habit foimded on, and exer- 
cismg deliberate preference, in a mean relative to ouiselyes^ 
defined by right reason, and according to the definition of a 
man of moral wisdom." 

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

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

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

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

fidence, between rashness and cowardice. 

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

sures and pains, but especially pleasures, between 
intemperance and a nameless extreme. 

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

gality and illiberality. 

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

between vulgar ostentation and meanness. 

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

between empty boasting and little-mindedness. 




J — 9. (6.) A nameless virtue, on tlie subject of gmall licH 
Hours, between ambition and the absence of it. 
10. (7,) Meekness, between irascibility, or pasdou, and 

inaenability to the feeling of anger. 
■16. (8.) Three Beveral virtues ; namely — 
(fl.) With respect to truth ; truthfulness, between arro' 

gance and false modesty. 
(J.) With respect to "the pleasant" in amuaement, 
graceful wit, or eaay pleasantry, between ribaldry 
or buffoonery and clowniahness. 
(c) With respect to " the pleasant " in the intercourse 
of life ; fiiendabip, between flattery and the being 
over-complaisant and morosenesa. 
.) Two mean states in the feelings. 
'a.) Modesty, between boshfulneas and impudence. 
[b.) Indignation, between envy and malevolence. 
IL- — ]— ^. The extremes are in opposition to eaoh 
and the mean to both. 
5, 6. But the extremes are more repugnant to each other 
than each of them is to the mean. 

7 — 9. This may take place cither from the nature of the 
means themselves, or from the constitution of the person. 
, TX — 1, 3, Aristotle recapitulates briefly the description 
of moral virtue, and states that therefore it is difficult of 
attaininent. Hence he ^vea three useful practical rules for 
iving at the mean. 

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

{S.) Struggle against tjiat to which you have the strongest 
5. (3,) Beware of pleasure. 

6 — S. As it is dj£cult to hit the mean exactly, slight 

daviations are pardonable. N^o exact caauiattcal rules can be 

down : our moral sense must be onr guide. 

- The principle of all moral action i« 
(BuiEffic, k e. what is commonly termed moral choice, or 
1 oelibentely prefening ooo act or one course of action 

«!y ANALYSIS OF [book ni. 

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

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

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

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


The tHrd book commences with an analysis of the nacnre 
of the (.Kovaiov and aKovariov ; -Aristotle then proceeds to 
discuss the sabject of irpoaipemQ, Next, as irpoalpetrig is 
subsequent to the deliberative process, deliberation is next 
treated of ; and lastly, the subject of the wilL Theee points 
occupy the first ^ve chapters ; and here l^ichelet considers 
the first part of the treatise to terminate. He divides the 
Ethics into three parts; the first of which treats of the 
summum bonum ; the second, of the virtues in detail ; the 
third, of the instnimentals to virtue. 

I. — 1. The consideration of the voluntaiyand involuntary 

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

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

2. Involuntary acts are of two kind*-— 

(1.) TCL piiji, (2.) TCL ^i ayvotav. 

By ftlaia is meant that of which the principle or cause is 

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

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

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

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

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

10. But it is d]6[icult to decide in many cases what we 
ought to prefer to do, an<l still more so to abide by our 

11. The points of dijBference between these acts and volun- 
taiy and involuntaxy acts farther considered. 

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

?.3. Acts done through ignorance (<tt ayA'oia?/) are either 
non- voluntary or involuntary. 

14. K repented of, they are involuntary. 

15, 16. Ignorance of the principles of jostice and expe* 
diency (lyvowv) is always held as voluntary and inexcuoablu 

Kzn AN\LTSIS OF [book itt. 

17 — ^20. Cases of ignorance brought forward whidi aro 
pardonable if followed by repentance. 

21. The voluntary is defined as that of which the pnmdnlo 
is in the agent kno4ig the dicomstances of the act. ^ 

22 — 2L That acts done imder the influence of passion and 
anger are not involuntary, proved by six reasons.* 

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

2. It is a epecies of the voluntary. 

3. It is not desire — 

(1.) Because irrational beings participate in desire and 

anger, but not in irpoalpemQ. 
(2.) Because the incontinent man acts from dedre, and 

not from irpoaipetriQ ', the continent frx)m irpoai^ 

ptaiQ, and not from desire. Therefore they can be 

evidently separated. 

(3.) They are often opposed. 

Desire, and not irpoaipefrtc, has to do with pleasova 
and pain. 

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

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

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

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

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

not by virtue and vice. 
It is not some particular opinion, because 

' The following table will explain tlie difision of acts adopted in tiiis 
diapter :— 

Voluntary Acts. InToluntanr. Mixed. 

I I ! 

Done Done throogh By Tbrougli Praised. Blamed. Pardoned. Not 
kiH»wing.'y. ignoraneeof eonstnint. ianorance p«r^ 

tfie principle. oftbefact. doae4 

Repeated of Not repented of 

(InvMWitary). (Non-?olantary)- 


^1.) Moral ntaracter ia determmed hy our wpoaipuri^. 
(2.) We deliberately prefer to lake a thing or not ; wo 

fonn an. opinion as to its nature. 
^3,) npoaipiai^ is praised for the rightness of its object ; 

So^n for its truth. 
I 10. (4.) We form opinions respecting gubjecta we do not 

(S.) Some persona form good opinions, but exenoBe a 

bad TrpnaipED-ic. 

_ 11. The deiinition, therefore (nominally), of the object ot 
rpoaipcats is a. Toluntary act whicli has been previously the 
object of deliberation. 

IIL — 1. The object of delibei-ation is that about whicli a 
reasonable man would deliberate. 

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

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

Nor about the exact scienoes. 

But beddes the three principles of causation — nature, 
necesMty, and chance — there is a fourth ; namely, mind or 

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

6. We also deliberate about means/ not ends. 

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

If only one, it determines how it can be done by this, and 
JO it goes backwards by an analytical process until it either 
meets with an impossibility, or the &Tst cause, wliich b the 
first step in the constructive process. 

8. It u^ therefore, a species of inveatigation. 

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

11, 12. Iteliberation and deliberate preference difler in 
that we are not obliged after all to choose the means Tn- 
Bpeoting which we have deliberated, but if we do choose them, 
we are exercising Trpoaipeai^, and therefore its definition ia 
ttw deliberate desire of things in our power. 

nviii ANALYSIS OP [book xxi. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

K vice is not voluntary, * 

3. (1.) We must deny that man is the origin of his 
4, 5. (2.) The principles would be in our power, and the 
acts which result from them would not be. 
The practice of legislators conj&rms Aristotle's view. 
6. They even punish ignorance itself if self-caused. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

C«rjLF. viii.J ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. xxii 

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

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

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

Fear is defined " The expectation of evil." 

2. Now some evils, such as disgrace, we ought to fear. 
The brave man can have nothing to do with these. 

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

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

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

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

YII. — 1, 2. Things terrible are of two kinds. 
(1.) 'Yxcp uvOpiOTTOV. (2.) Kar' ^pOptoirov* 

Every man of sense will fear the former. 

The latter differ in magnitude. 

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

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

5. This motive is to koKov, 

He who is in the extreme of fearlessness may be called 


7. He who is in the extreme of confidence, ^patrvc, 

8. He who is in the extreme of fear, hi\6g. 

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

11. Suicide is the act of a coward. 

VIII. — 1 — 4. There are five other forms of coiu^ga 
^ (1.) Political courage. 

The motive of this is not the abstractedly honourable, to 
KaXoy; but honourable distinction^ rtuv. 
\ 5 — 7. Courage arising from experience. 

The difference between this and real courage is exempli- 
fied by a comparison becAveen the conduct of regular troops 
and that of a native militia. 
\ S — 10. (3.) Courage ailamg from anger. 

ixx ANALYSIS OF [book itt. 

This is not for the sake of the right motive, but in obe* 
dience to the dictates of an irrational passion. 
\ 11 — 13. (4.) The courage of the sanguine. 

Their courage is based upon like motives with that of the 

In unexpected perils it often feila. 
I 14, 15. (5.) The courage of the ignorant.^ 

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

IX. — 1. Courage has more to do with fear tha>; confix 

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

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

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

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

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

X. — 1. Courage and temperance are first discussed, be* 
cause t]^y are the virtues of the irrational part of the souL 
Temperance is a mean state on the subject of pleasure. 
2, 3. Pleasures are of two kinds. 
(1.^ Those of the soul. 
(2.) Those of the body, 
4 — 10. Temperance belongs to the latter. 
But not to those of sight, hearing, or smell, except acci- 
dentally, nor of taste, except in a slight degree. 

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

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

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

XI. — 1 — 3. Desires are of two kinds. 

' *0 rciiQ aWois AfiaOia filv BpdvoCf ^oyiv/ihq ik Skvov ^pci.** 
1 hue. ii. 40. See all) Herod, tu. 49. 



(1.) CommoB and natural 

(2.) Peculiar and acqnired. 
In the former, errors are seldom met with. 
In the latter, they are frequent. 

The intemperate are in excess under all drcuiastimceB. 
1£ the desires are wrong, they dehght in them. 
If the desires are innocent, they delight in them move 
L than they ought. 

4, 5. The difference between temperance and courage eon- 

'a the relation which they respectively bear to pains. 
For example, a man ia called brave for bearing pmn, but 
temperate for not feeling pain at the absence of pleasure. 

6. The character which is in the defect as to pleasui'e haa 
no name, because it is never found. 

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

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

1(1.) Because fear gives a shock to the natural character, 
and throws it off its balance. 
S, 3. (2.) Though cowardice as a habit is more vohm- 
tary than intemperance, stiU particular acts of 
cowardice are less voluntary. 
4. The term nxoXaoia, because of its etymolo^col meaning, 
ia applied to the faults of children metaphorically,T)ecauae 
de^res and children re<^uire KuXao-ic. 
5 — 7. Since desires, if not controlled, will increase, the 
part of the soul in which they reside should be obedient ta 
leason, and be in harmony with it. 



Introduetorj/. — This book requires but few words by wn,y 
of introductioiL It consiBte of a continuation of that sub- 
ject which Aristotle touched upon briefly in outline in the 
second book, and conunenced in detail in the sixth chapter 
of Book III. The virtues investigated here are magni- 
ficence, liberality, magnanimity, and tpiXoriftia in the best 
acceptation of the term, meekness, the tliree social virtues^ 

uzii ANALYSIS Or [book it« 

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

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

L — 1. liberality is a mean on the subject of possessions or 

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

2. The extremes are illiberality and prodigality. 

The epithet prodigal is sometimes 'applied to the intern.- 

3. This application of the term is incorrect. 

4. libersdity has more to do with giving than with 

(1.) For the former is the use of money, the latter only 
the way of acquiring it. 
It is more honourable to do than to receive good. 
To abstain from receiving is easier than to give ; 
and those who abstain from receiving are rather 
praised for justice. 
6, 7. The motive of liberality is ro KoXoy. 
The liberal will give to proper objects, and in proportion 
to his means. 

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

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

10. Those who inherit wealth are most liberal. 
It is not easy for the liberal man to be rich. 

11. Therefore men sometimes upbraid the unMmess of 

12. The liberal differs from the prodigal 
Kings cannot be prodigal. 

13. The liberal differs from the prodigal in receiving. 
The relation of the liberal man to the feelings of pleasure 

and pain. 

14. Definition of the extremes. 

15. Prodigality shown to be better than illiberality. 

16. 18. Prodigals are often guilty of meannesses in order 
to supply resources for their ©if travagance, and are:^n8r«Uly 


19. miberality is incurable. 

20 — 24. Vaiious forms of illiberaHty. 

25. niiberalitj is worse than prodigalitj, and is the ex* 
ireme to which men are most liable. 

II. — 1. Magnificence is appropriate exx)eiiditure in great 

2. Propriety depends — 
1.) On the relation of the expense to the expender. 
■2.^ On the object of the expense. 
[3.) On the quantity expended. 

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

4. Magnificence implies in some degree science. 

5. The motive is to koXov, 

6. The magnificent man will d/ortiori be liberal 
Magnificence is of two kinds : — (1.) Public. (2.) Private. 
7 — 12. The poor man cannot be magnificent. 

13, 14. The extremes described. 

These two habits, though vicious, are neither hurtful, nor 
very disgracefiiL 

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

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

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

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

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

6. He is conversant with honour. 

7. He must be a good man. 

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

9. Ill success or feilure, he will behave with modera- 

10, 11. Instances of good fortune are thought to contribute 
to magnanimity ; but without virtue men may be superdlious^ 
but they cannot be magnanimous. 

12—19. The character of a magnanimous man will dis- 

mif ANALYSIS OF [book iv 

play itself in his views and conduct as to all the Tirtuei^ 
and even in his gait, voice, and manners. 

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

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

It bears the same relation to magnanimity which liberalit]^ 
does to magnificence. 

2. It is nameless, because we use the term ^iXorcftca some- 
times as praise, sometimes as reproacL 

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

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

Its extremes are irascibility and insensibility to anger. 

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

3. Insensibility to anger is blameworthy and slavish. 

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

The different varieties of irascibility are — 

5. 8. The choleric, the bitter, and the ill-tempered. 
Irascibility is most opposed to the mean. 

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

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

It may be defbied as friendship, minus the feeling of 

1, 2. The characters in the extremes are — 

Q.) "A/DCflTKoc, men-pleasers, or the over-complaisant. 
(2.) AvflrjcoXoc, the cross and quarrelsome. 

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

He will only inflict pain for the sake of giving greatei 

6* He who amis solely ai giving pleasure is opetrKog. 

CHAP. IX.] ARISTOTIiE'S BTfllcs. xxxr 

He who does so from selfisKness is icdXaf . 
VII. — 1, 2. The virtue which has truth for its object 
matter has no name, but it may be called truthfulness. 

3. The excess is arrogance, the defect false modesty. 
The former is more blameable than the latter. 

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

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

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

8. The &Isely-modest have more refinement than the 

9. False modesty sometimes proceeds from arrogance. 
VIII. — 3. In periods of relaxation, the social virtue is 

graceful, or polished wit, or easy pleasantry (ehrpaveXla), 

1. 2. The extremes are buffoonery and downishness. 

4. Tact peculiarly belongs to the mean habit. 

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

5. The evrparreXoc will jest, but he wiU jest as a gentleman 
ought, and not so as to pain or disgust anyone. He ^ 
have tact and good taste. 

6. The buffoon will sacrifice himself or anybody to a 

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

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

Its physical effects are somewhat like those of fear. 

2. It is especially suitable to youth. 

An older person ought to do nothing to be ashamed of 

3. The feeling of shame is no proof of a man being good. 
Hypothetically it may be a worthy feeling. 

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

4. In like manner, continence, properly speaking, is not • 
▼irtue, but a kind of mixed virtue. 



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

Kow a man is termed unjust, for two reasons : — ^f^rstly, 
as being a transgressor of the law, whether that be the 
written or the unwritten ; and, Secondly, as being imequal 
3r unfair, as taking more of good, and less of evil, which 
comes to the same thing, than he has a right and title to. 
Hence injustice, and therefore- justice, is of two kinds: 
(1) a habit of obedience to law j (2) a habit of equality. 

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

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

Particular justice, which he does investigate, is of two 
kinds, distributive and corrective. The former is a virtuous 


habit, which, strictly speaking, can only be exercised by man 
In his capacity as a free citizen intrusted with political func* 
tions, either legislative or executive, for it deals with tho 
distribution, according to merit, of the public rewards and 
punishments of a state. But the exercise of this virtue is 
by no means so limited as this idea of it would lead us at 
6rst sight to suppose. For, in the first place, in the £ree 
states of Greece, every citizen was, to a certain extent, in- 
trusted with these functions, which is not the, case under the 
modem system of poHtical institutions ; and, in thfe second 
place, analogically, the same principles, m/uioitia mutamdiSj wiU 
regulate our conduct in the distribution of rewards and 
punishments, towards children, dependants, and so forth. 

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

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

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

c 2 

nzTlll ANALYSIS OF [book «>• 

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

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

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


) ideas on tlie suliject of tuitural justice. The 
iiidples of natural justice are iloiibtless immutable and 
1, and woidd be the same had the man never existed ; 
I for as man is concerned, the development of them 
be sought for in him a» we find him ; that is, in hia 
J condition, and no other. 

Q the tenth chapter Aristotle treats of equity, the prin- 

ples of which fiinush the means of con'ectiag the imperfeo- 

9 of law. These imperfections are unavoidable, because, 

a the nature of things, the enactments of law must be 

Qsiveisal, and require adnptation to particular caeea 

I.^l, 2, Justice is roughly defined as the habit from 
which men are apt to perform just actions and enterttun 
just wishes. 

Injustice is the contrary habit. 

3, i. The same capacity and swence comprehends within 
ita sphere conti-aries, but a habit cannot be of contraries. 

AJid if we know the things connected with a habit, we 
know the habit itself 

5 — 7, Therefore, if we know what aSmov means, we know 
what iinaioy and Btnaioavvi) mean. 

(Now, aciw implies the unlawful and the imequal. 
Therefore, the just is the lawful and the equal 
8 — 11. The object of the law is to direct and enforce 

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

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

It differs from universal justice as a part from a whole, 
fi, T, The consideration of universal justice is dismissed. 

18. 9, Particular justice is of two kinds. 
(1.) Distributive of the honours, 4c. of the state, 
(2.) Corrective, in transactions between man and man. 
Transactions are twofold — voluntary and involuntary, 
111. — 1. Justice implies eqiwlity. 
The equal is a mean between more and less. 
Therefore the just is a mean. 

2. It is conversant witk four tcrma at least, two persou 
ml two things. 

i! ANALT&tS O [book t. 

3 — ^7. Distributrve justioe pays respect to the relative 
luerits of the persons, and in it geometrical proportion is 

IV. — 1 — 3. The province of corrective justice, is transao* 
tions of all kinds. 

In it no respect is paid to persons. 

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

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

The proportion observed is arithmeticaL 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. By retaliation (ccir &yaXoyiay) dvil society is held 

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

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

4. This cannot be effected without a common measure. 

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

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

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

In conclusion, Aristotle defines justice and injustice. 

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

3. Political justice is that which exists between memben 


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

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

YII. — 1. Political or social justice is of two kinds. 
(1.) Natural. (2.) Legal 

The former is everywhere the same, the latter is arbitrary, 

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

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

5, 6. Before a thing is committed, it is imjust {a^iKOp) ; 
when committed, it is an act of injustice (a^Z/ci^/xa) ; so like* 
wise, a just act is BiKaioirpayrifia^ the correction of an unjust 
act, diicaittifia, 

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

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

7. Voluntary acts are done from deliberate preference, or 

8. 9. If a hurt takes place accidentally, it is an accident. 
If without wicked intent, it is an error. 

lO: If knowingly, but without previous deHberation, it i£ 
an unjust act. 

11, 12. If a man acts omrpoalpetrigy he is an unjust man. 
13. He who acts justly on wpoaLptatq is a just man. 
IX. — 1. Can a man be injured with his own consent % 

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

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

5, Can a man injure himself? 

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

The case of the incontinent man, who often harms himseli^ 
constitutes no objection 

9. Does lie who has awaraeu too great a share, or he who 
receives it, commit the injury ] 


Does he who awards too little to himself injure himself? 

10. The second question is already answered by the £EMst 
that the harm he suffers is not against his wilL 

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

The receiver does unjust acts, but does not sot tmjuBtly 

He who decides through ignorance is imjturt in a certain 

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

This is not the case. 

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

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

3—7. Although they differ, they are not opposed ; the &Gt 
being, that equity corrects the errors of law, which erron 
are unavoidable, because the general enactments of the law 
will not always apply to particular cases. 

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

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

In imiversal justice he cannot, because to do what the 
law forbids is an offence against the law, not against himsel£ 

For example, suicide is an offence against the law. 

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

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

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

8, 9. Metaphorically a man may be said to injure himaeH 
because we may imagine a kind of justice subsisting betweea 
the two parts of his souL 


tni/rodtKtory. — In tbia book Aristotle has tn-o objects in 
' Tiew ; to treiit of the intellectual lirtues, and to allow tho 
relation in which right reason stands to mora! virtue. Ac- 
cording to the definition which he gave of moral virtue, the 
intellect is the directing and governing power, to whose 
dictates and suggestions the other parts of man's nature 
mnst be obedient, and right reason and the possession of an 
intelleotual virtue (^ofi/o-is) has the province of deciding the 
relative mean, which constitutes the characteristic of virtuoua 

Now, referring to the division of the soul in the first 
book, we find that one part Is purely rational. The object- 
matter of this part of the aoiil ia truth ; truth in necessary, 
and truth in contingent matter. The habits of mind which 
contemplate truth in necessaiy matter are, tiiat which 
takes cognizance of principles {yovA, and that which takes 
cognimnce of deductions irom principles (tirKTrq^ii). These 
two combined make up ao^ia, which implies a perfect know- 
ledge of scientific trutL In contingent matter, the habit 
which takes cognizance of moral truth is ipporrieic, and that 
which operates upon truth as related to productions is rixyi'i- 

These, then, ore the five intellectual habits which Aristotle 
con^ders it necessaiy to discuss as connected with the 
subject of ethics. Of course, it must not be supposed that 
this discasaon will embrace the whole of Aristotle's psycho- 
logical system, as this must be sought for in bis Treatise 
<m the Soul. 

I. — 1 — 3. Since we ought to choose the mean, and ^noe 
right reason determines what that mean is, we must inveeti- 
gata the subject of right reason. 

4. The soul has been supposed to consist of two parts : 
the rational, in which the intellectual virtues reside ; the 
imtional, which is the seat of the moral virtues. The 
ntional part is subdivided into the iTriaTJt/ioi-iKiii; which con- 
tamplates necessaiy matter, and the Aoynrruui-, which con- 
mplates contingent matter. 

xliv ANALYSIS OF • [book vi. 

B]r XoytffTiicoy Aristotle means deliberatiye, for no one 
deliberates respecting necessary matter. 

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

n. — 1, 2. There are three principles or functiQEia of the 
soul which influence moral action and trutL 

These are sensation, intellect, and appetite. 

Now sensation is the origin of no moral action. The 
origin of moral action is itpoaipimq, which is made up of 
V£(C and \6yoQ. If, therofore, the action is virtuous, the 
vptiiQ must be right, and the \6yoQ true. 

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

3. It is evident that truth is the tpyov of the scientiiic 

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

6. Nothing past is the object of deliberate preferenoa. 
III. — 1. There are five habits by which the soul anxvea at 
truth,— art, science, prudence, wisdom,* and intuition. 

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

3. We learn by means of induction and syllogisnL 
To know a subject scientifically, we must not only know 

'&cts, but also the logical connection between them, and the 
'irst principles from which they are derived. 

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

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

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

* Although (To^ia is sometimes translated science, and doubtibss i. 
does imply that knowledge of abstract truth which is implied by that 
term, I have preferred, on the whole, translating it wisdom, because wis« 
dom is used by old English authors in the same way in which vo^ia is 
used by the Greeks, to express skill in the arts. — See Exodus ±ttvi. I. 


The latter of these is art. 

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

4. A relation subsbts between chance and art. 

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

Y. — 1. According to his common practice, Aristotle inves* 
ti gates what prudence is, bj considering it in the concrete. 

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

2, The matt^fof^iooviyo'ic differs from that of ewKrrrifjLrj. 

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

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

5. It is clear that-mtemperance destroys (ppoprfaicy although 
it may not pervert our ideas on scientific subjects. 

Prudence differs from art. 

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

lence, in art there are. 
(2.) Because in art voluntary error is better, in pru 
dence worse. 

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

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

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

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

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

Therefore it must be vovg (intuition), 

VTL — 1. In the arts, by the term wisdom {<ro<pid) we 
mean skill. 

But there is a general sense of the term, as well as this 
B]>eciai one. 

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

It knows the principles, and the facts deduced fi^m them. / 

It is, therefore, intuition and science combined together. | 


slTi ANALYSIS OF [book n. 


It surpasses political science or prudence, (1) inasmuch 
the subjects with which it is conversant are superior to man. 
^2.) Because its suojects are inyariable. 
[3.) Because, in a certain sense, even brute animals maj 
be said to be prudent. 

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

-»t Wisdom, therefore, is science, combined with intuition. 

Hence Auaxagoras, Thales, &c, are called wise, but not 

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

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

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

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


Individual prudence, Economic. PoUticaL 

(properly termed • I 


LegislatiYe. AdministratiTe, 
(properly called 


Deliberative. Jocudal. 

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

5, 6. Prudence is not easy to acquire ; in proof of which 
we may adduce the &ct that yoimg m.en may become qqfjip 
but not easiLy <f>p6vLfiou Besides, the possibility of evlor Is 
twofold, — ^in the universal and the particular. 


Prudence is not science j because science is conversant mth 
universals, prudence with particulars. 

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

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

Grood deliberation is not science ; becai'^se no one investi- 
gates what he knows. 

2. It is not happy conjecture ; for this is quick, whei'eas 
deliberation requires time. 

It is not, therefore, sagacity. 

3. It is not opinion. 

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

Nor of opinion; because the correctness of opinion is 

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

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

1.^ The goodness of the end. 
[2S The propriety of the mean. 
(3.) The sufficiency of the time. 

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

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

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

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

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

Fellow-feeling {(rvyyviofirj), the correct discriminating can- 
dour of the equitable man. 

* The iLpxait or principia sciendi, are those first principles which arc 
incapable of demonstration. The principia agendi are l^x^^^* °^ ^^ 
last results of deliberstiun. 



2 d . EvCovX/a, ffvvco'ccy yvw/ii7« and yovr, or oSorOi^cc 
(which here means practical common aenae, tlie habit irhi<^ 
takes cognizance of the practical extremes), are the practicai 
habits, and all tend to ^e same point, and are usually found 
combined in the same person. As the practical habits seem 
not to be the result of teaching, but rather of observation, 
they have been thought natural gifts. 

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

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

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

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

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

not give us virtuous habits. 

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

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

(4.) It seems absurd that prudence, the inferior, oahould 
dictate to wisdom, the superior. 
1:. To these doubts and questions, it may be answered — 

(1.) That these virtues, because they axe virtues, would 
be eligible for their own sake, even if they pro- 
duced no effect. 

(2.) They do produce an effect, as being the formal 
cause of happiness. 
5, (3.) Man's epyov is accomplished by means of prudence 
and moral virtue. 
6, 7. (4.) Virtue makes the deliberate, preference correct ; 
but the acts in which the moral principle is 
developed are directed by some other faculty. 

8. This faculty is hivorriQ (cleverness). K its aim is bad, 
it becomes wavovpyla (crafb). 

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

Now, when we act morally, we always net upon a syl 


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

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

Therefore virtue and prudence are inseparably connected. 

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

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

Add vovc, and it becomes virtue proper. 

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

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

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


IrUrodiuctory. — According to the division adopted by 
Michelet, Aristotle here commences the third part of his 
treatise ; namely, that which treats of the instrumentals to 
virtue. Up to this point he has contemplated the virtues, 
both moral and intellectual, theoretically as perfect, and as if 
mankind were capable of attaining moral and intellectual 
perfection. This is, of course, the most philosophical way to 
investigate the moral laws of man's nature, as well as the 
physical laws by which the material universe is governed. 
But before the results to which we arrive can be reduced to 
practice, they, in botl3^ cases, require to be modified by fiicts 
and by experience. 

Now, whether man can or cannot attain to perfect virtue, 
there can be no doubt that if he aims at happmess, he mu»t 


1 ANU.TS1S OF [book tu. 

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

jHie imperfect habit of self-restraint which man will thus 
form, and which, by perseverance, he will improve and 
strengthen, is termed by Aristotle eyKpareia (continence), 
to distinguish it from truHjipotrvyrj (temperance), which implies 
that the bad passions and appetites are entirely overcome, 
and are completely under the control of right reason. 

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4. If the continent man resists strong and bad desiree 
he is not the same as the temperate man (this is Opi^ 


(ii ANALYSIS OF tm>os ris. 

ijion ly.) ; if he resists weak ones, there is nothing great iu 
so doing. 

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

6. Again, if, bj sophistical reasoning, a man is led to 
idmit premisses and therefore is forced to admit, but (^uinot 
approve of the conclusion, he would be considered inconti- 
nent, because unable to re^te the argument. 

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

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

These four arguments refute Opinion H. 

9. If temperance and continence are conversant with every- 
thing, what is meant by simple continence 1 (Opinion Vll.) 

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

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

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

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

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

8. ^.gain, some obstacle, such as sleep, madness, to which 
passion is siMlar, may prevent knowledge from acting. 


9. We must not suppose that tlie utterance of moral 
sentiments is a proof of ^owledge exerting itself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5. Another proof is, that, with respect to these pleasures^ 
men are called efleminate (jxaXaKoi), # '. n 

d 2 ; y: ., I 




(book VITi 

Delibeiate preference makes tHe difiTeroiKse between inteia« 
perance and incontinence. 

G. The degree of inten)T)erance is inyersAV as ihb strength 
of the temptation. 

7. Pleasant things may be arranged undei three heads : — 
1.^ Those which are in their nature eh^ble. 
\2.\ The contrary to these. 
[3.) Those which are between both. 

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

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

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

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





to different 

kinds of 

animals and 





From maiming. Custom. 


tastes and 


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

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

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

(1.) Because anger does appear to listen to reason, but 
listens imperfectly; whilst desire rushes to en- 
joyment, in obedience to mere instinct. 
4, 5. (2.) Anger is more natural, and therefore more par- 
donable, than desire, even when carried to excess. 
6. (3.) Anger is open in its attacks, desire is insidiotu^ 
ami therefore more ui\iust. 


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is incapable of repentance, and therefore incurable. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YIII. — 1. Intemperance is not inclined to repentance, 
incontinence is ; therefore the former, like chronic diseases, ii 
incurable, the latter, like acute diseasesf, is curable ; the latter 
ID imperoeived. the former not so. • 

M ANALYSIS OB [bookvxi. 

1\ Of incontineiit personSy ol iKerrarucol are tHe better. 

3. Incontinence is not vice absolutely, but only in a 
certain sense, because the principle of moral action is not 

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

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

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

2. There is a class of persons called obstinate ; they re- 
semble in some measure the continent, but they really £ffer, 
in that, even contraiy to the sugge^ons of reaso^ they 
influen<;ed by pleas«r?abide by thdx opinion. 

The continent may be persuaded to change, the obstinate 

3. There are three kinds of obstiaate persons : — 
1.) The self-opinionated. 
[2.^ The uneducated. 
(3.) The clownish. 

4. There are also some who depart from their opinions on 
right grounds, e, g.Jfor the sake of honourable pleasures ; 
these cannot be called incontinent. 

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

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

X. — 1. A man cannot be both prudent and incontinent. 
Because prudence implies goodness. 
Because the prudent man not only knows what is 
right, but is apt and inclined to practise it. 
2. Cleverness, as it does not imply irpoaipeaLQ, ia consistent 
with incontinence. 

The incontinent is like a man who possesses knowledge, 
but is imder the influence of sleep or wine. He acts volun- 
tarily, but is not vicious absolutely. He is not imjust. He 





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

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

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


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

Again, the intercourse which was kept up between the 
several states of Greece by means of Kpoievoi and IQeKoTrfio^tvoi, 
originated in the same mutual feeling towards each other, 
and was a development of the same principle of inter- 
national goodwill. It is customary to compare this institu* 
tiou of the ancient Greeks to the consulate of modem timcBi 


hiil ANALYSIS OF [booe vm. 

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

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

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


principles, shared the reproach which he incurred by his 
partiality for Sparta, and proved its devotedness to his 
person at the battle of Tanagra. It seems to have been by 
means of a fnTni1a.r imion that Thucydides, the rival of 
Pericles, endeavoTired to defeat the attempt of Hyperbolas. 
It was on his command over such associations, that Alci- 
biades relied for the accomplishment of his ambitious de- 

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

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

The above brief view of the state of feeling and habit 
prevalent in Greece, in all ages, on these important pointy 
will accoimt for the way in which Aristotle treats the sub- 
. ject of friendship. It will, hence, be seen why he discusses 
j it not only as a virtue of "private individuals, but in relation 
\vo social commimions of difierent kinds, anieicen to the 
H^eory of civil government itsel£ 

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

IX ANALYSIS OF [mmk vin. 

tonities for the most satia&ctory exercises of Tirtiions ener- 
gies, and perfonnanoe of relative duties ; and, secondly, as 
being absolutely necessary to the happiness of man, which 
cannot be complete, unless his amiable affections and social 
sympathies are satisfied. 

I. — 1 — 3. The subject of friendship is introduced, becaxise — 

il.^ It is either a virtue or conjoined with virtue. 
2.) It is most necessary to life, to young and old, rich 
and poor. 

4. ^3.) The principles of fiiendship are innate. 

5, l4:.\ It is the bond of social commimitie& 
(5.) It supplies the place of justice. 

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

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

Some say it originates in resemblance. 
Others from physical causes. 

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

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

be sol 
(2.) Are there more kinds of friendship than one ? 
H. — 1, 2. We must discover what is the object of friendship 
It is (1.) The good. 

^2.) The pleasant. 
(3.) The useful. 
Is it then the good, or the apparent good 1 
Abstractedly, it is the good ; relatively to the individual, 
it is the apparent good. This distinction, however, -will 
make no difierence. 

We cannot use the term friendship of fondness for inani- 
mate things ; because friendship must be reciprocaL 
3, 4. Unless reciprocity exists, the feeling is goodwilL 
Friends, therefore, must feel goodwill to each other, both 
parties must be aware of the feelings of each other, and they 
must wish good to each other for one of the three reaaozui 
above mentioned. 

III. — 1. There are three kinds of friendship, correspond* 
L)g to the three objects. 


2. Eriendshipfor the sake of tlie useful is not realfnendship. 
The same is the case with respect to that for the sake of 

the pleasant. 

3. These two kinds of Mendship are easily dissolved. 

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

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

They quickly form and quickly put an end to their fiiend- 

7, 8. The fiiendship between the good and virtuous is 

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

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

IV. — 1, 2. The fiiendships for the sake of the pleasant 
and the usefiil resemble true fiiendship, because the good are 
pleasant and usefiil to each other. 

3. Friends for the sake of the usefiil cease to be so when 
the usefiilness ceases. 

4. For these motives bad men may be fiiends. 

5. The fiiendship of the virtuous is alone superior to 

6. False fiiendships are only called so fix)m analogy. 

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

Y. — 1. As in virtues some are called good accordiog to 
ihe habit, others according to the energy, so in fiiendship, 
absence does not destroy it, but only impairs the energy. 

2. If the absence be long, forgetfiilness is the result. 
The old and morose are not inclined to fiiendship. 

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

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

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

jdi ANALYSIS OY .book viii 

The good when they love their Mend love that which u 
good to themselves. 

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

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

(1.) It resembles an excess of feeling, and this can only 

be felt towards one object. 
(2.) It requires experience and intimacy. 
We may be friends with many ^ta to xpn^^t^op and 8ia re 

4. The friendship Sm to i/^v most resembles true fiiend- 

That ^ca TO xpriffL^ov is that of tradesmen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. The idea of equality injustice and friendship differs. 
In justice, equality in proportion to merit is considered 

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

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

5. Hence a question has arisen, whether men really 
wish to their friends the greatest goods, because, if they ^4 
the greatest goods, they would lose their friends. 


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

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

This is proved by the strength of maternal aflfection. 

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

This stability is insured between the good, because equality 
and similarity, especially in s^oodness, are the essentials of 

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

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

9. But thouG^h, in a certain sense, the contrary wants the 
«ontrar7, what it reaUy wants is the mem, for this is " the 

IX. — 1. Every commimity implies a principle of justice 
as well as a principle of friendship. 

These principles are co-extensive. 

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

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

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

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

Corresponding friendships will accompany these commu- 

X. — 1 — 5. There are three kinds of political constitutions 
snd three corruptions of them. 
1.^ Monarchy. 
\2.S Aristocracy. 
[3.) Timocracy. 
Of iheae^ monarchy is the best, and timocracy the worst. 

inv ANALYSIS OF [mok. vtu 

The three corruptions are— 

1.^ Tyranny. 

[2.) Oligarchy. 

^3.) Democracy. 
Of these, tyranny is the worst, and democracy the least had 

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

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

7. That between a master and his slaves is like a tyranny. 
That between husband and wife resembles an aristocracy. 
This relation, if the husband is overbearing, degenerates 

into one which resembles an oligarchy. 

8. The relation between brothers is like a timocracy. 
The state of families without a master is like a demo- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XII. — 1. All friendships are based upon communityy 
which is either i^tural or by compact. 

Civil communities exist in virtue of a compact. t 

2 — 4. TheMondships between relatives are by naturej-^Mip 
all depend upon the parental 

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


5. Brothers love one another, because thej are sprung firosp^ 
the same parents.^ 

The liiendship of brothers resembles that between com* 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5. Friendship for the sake of the useful is of two kinds. 
(1^ Moral (2.) Legal. 

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

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

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

8. He must measure the value of the fii,vour received, 
and estuik.te the kindness of the giver, and make his return 

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

In friendships for the sake of virtue, -the'lnelisure is the 
irpoaipeariQ of the giver. 

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

• Compare Malachi xi. 10 : " Have we not all one Father ? — hatb not 
one God created us ? Why do we deal trcacheroosly eyery man againit 
1^ brother?'' 

kzvi ANALYSIS 09 [book ix. 

Both a})pear to be right ; bo^h ought to get more, but not 
more of the same thing. 

The superior should get more honoiur, the needy more 

3. This rule is observed in political communities. ^^' 

4. Every man must make his return accordr|f* to hif 
ability. More than this, friendship cannot demaiiA. 

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

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


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

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


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

I. — 1. All dissimilar fiiendships are rendered equal, and 
therefore preserved by propoi-tion. 
2, 3. Complaints arise irom three causes : 

That there is not a sufficient return of affection. 
That the person who loves does not perform hia 

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6. We ought to render to all their due. 

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

8. We ought to pay respect to the aged. 

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

To do this in the case of relai Ives, is easy ; in the case of 
Vthers, it is difficult. 

III. — 1. When may friendshij© be dissolved? 

(1.) When the motives for the sake of which the>' 
were formed cease. 


imrf ANALYSIS OF [book ul, 

2. (2,) When parties are deoemd as to the xeal molivaa 
which led to the friendshqiu 
3,4.(3.) If one party becomes wicked, and^his wickedneas 

is incorabla 

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

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

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

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

By " self ** is meant each man's iatellectual part, or 
thinldng principle. / 

A friend is a second self. 

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

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

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

8. They hate life, and destroy themselves. 

Thoy edmn their own thoughts, and seek, for the sake of 
distraction, the society of others. 

Thoy liavo no sympathy with themselves. 

Tlioy look back upon their past pleasures with pain. 

Thoy are full of remorse. 

Thoy have no friendly feeling towards themselves. 

In ordor to escajH} this wretchedness, t£cir only way is to 
floe from wickodnoss, and to strive to become .good. 

V. — 1, Qooilwill resembles, but is not identical vnih 
friendship ; 

For it u &lt towards those whom we do not know. 


It is not affection, <l>i\rj(Tig; for it Has no intensity, nor 
desire, and may be felt on a sudden. 

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

3. It is impossible to feel friendship without goodwill. 

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

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

VI. — 1. Unanimity (ofioyoia) differs from unity of opi- 
nion {ofio^o^ia), in being between persons known to each 
other, and on practical matters. 

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

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

4. It is therefore political friendship. 

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

5. It cannot exist between the bad, because they only 
agree in shunning duty, and in coveting personal advantage. 

Vil. — 1. The love felt by benefactors is stronger than that 
felt by the benefited. 

2. Most people think the reason for this is, because the 
benefisu^r, like a creditor, wishes for the safety and pros- 
perity of his debtor, with a view to repayment. 

3. This, Epicharmus would say, is looking to the bad side 
of human nature; nevertheless, it is not unlike human 

4. 5. However, the true reasons are, 

(1.) That the benefector looks upon the person bene- 
fited as his work, and men love their own works, 
as proofs of energy, and therefore of existence. 

6. (2.) The benefewtor gets honour, the benefited only 

advantage; and honour is preferable to advan- 

7. (3.) The pleasure derived fix)m the honourable is 

permanent, that deriv4)d from the useful is transi- 

8. ^4.) To love is an active feeling, to be loved passive. 
(5.) All love that best which has cost them trouble. 

Vm. — ^The difficulty of deciding whether we ought t<x 

« 2 

Iix ANATTSIS [book is. 

love ourselyes or others best, arises from not distinguishiiig 
between proper and improper self-love. 

The popular opinion is, that the bad man does nothing 
without reference to sel£ 

The good man acts for the sake of the honourable, and 
passes over his own interests. 

2, 3. On the other hand, it is said that a man should 
love his greatest friend best ; now, the best friend & maxk 
has is himself; therefore, he ought to love himself best. 

4 — 7. Now, improper self-love, or selfishness, causes a 
man to give to himself more than his share of money, or 
distinctions, or bodily pleasures, in &ct, of the gratifications 
of the irrational part of his nature. 

True self-love desires the honoiurable, and to be virtuous^ 
and to gratify the ruling part of his nature, i, e. the in- 

8. For the intellectual part especially constitutes what 
we call " seE" » 

9. Now, all praise him who is particularly earnest in per- 
forming virtuous and honourable acts. 

10. Therefore, the good man must be a self-lover, but the 
wicked man ought not to be so. 

11. The good man will sacrifice everything for the sake of 
appropriating to himself the greatest share of the honour- 
able (to KaXopy 

12. Hence, he will sacrifice even life itself in the cause of 
his country. 

13. Therefore, reasonable self-love is right, tut selfishness 
is wrong. 

IX. — 1. Some have said that the happy man does not need 
friends, because be has all he wants, and needs no one to 
provide more for him. 

2. But yet it seems absurd to give a man all other goods, 
and deny him the greatest of all goods. 

Besides, a good man will want persons to do good to. 

3. Hence, it has been asked, when do we most need friends ? 

• See Bishop Butler's Analogy, Part I. chap. i. " On a Future State,'* 
where he shows that the living agent or sentient being, which each man 
call» himself, is related to the body merely as to a system of instramenta 
and organs destitute of perception, which convey perceptions to the per* 

te.Ting ana reflecting powers. 


In prosperity, foi us to help them, or in adversity, for them 
to help us ? 

4. It also seems absurd, when man is a social being, to 
make the happy man a solitary being. 

The happy man, therefore, jioesjieed-inends. 

5. The mistake of the generality seems to be, that they 
think only of useful friends. 

Now, the happy man will not want either useful or plea- 
sant fnends. 

6. But he will want virtuous Mends ; because he delights 
in contemplating good actions, and such actions as his own ; 
and we can better contemplate a friend's actions than we 
can our own. 

7. Again, a solitary life is burthensome ; and it is not easy 
to energize constantly by one's-self. 

8. Let the question now be examined physiologically. 
That which is naturally good is good and pleasant to the 

good man. 

Therefore, life is good and pleasant to the good man. 

9. Now, life, in man, consists in the exercise of sensation 
and intellect. 

10. When we speak of life, we do not mean a depraved 
and corrupt one, but the life of the good and happy. 

11. 12. Therefore, the consciousness of living and existing 
must be pleasant to a good man. 

Now, a Mend is a second self. 

13, 14. Therefore, the perception of a friend's existence 
is the perception of our own. 

Therefore, it is good and pleasant. 

Therefore, it is good to have Mends, and consequently 
even a happy man will need good Mends. 

X. — 1. Should we, then, have many Mends, or, as in the 
case of hospitality, should we not be without, but still not 
have too many 1 

2. Of useful Mends we certainly must not have many, for 
it is troublesome to requite many fovours. 

3. Of pleasant Mends, a few are sufficient, like sweetening 
in our food. 

To the number of virtuous Mends there must be alsc 
Bome Umit, as the numbers of a political community must be 

lixii ANALYSIS OP [book n. 

4. Perhaps the best limit is the greatest number with 
whom we can associate. 

Beddes, we ought to remember that our Mends ought to 
be friends to each other, and that we ought to sympathise 
with them all in joys and sorrows. 

These considerations will also tend to limit the niunber. 

5. It is as impossible to be strong friends with many as to 
be in lore with many. 

6. All celebrated friendships have been between two. 
In a political sense only, can we have many friends. 

We must be content with a few virtuous friends, because 
it is even impossible to meet with many. 

XI.— 1. Friends are needftd, both in prosperity and in 

In the latter, we require usefrd friends, in the former, 
virtuous ones. 

In adversity, they are more necessary, in prosperity, more 

2. The sympathy of friends is also pleasant in adversity. 
How it comes to pass that sympathy lightens the weight 

of sorrow, it is imnecessary to inquire ; the fiswH; is certain. 

3. The presence of friends, when we are in nusfortune, 
causes a mixed feeling. We are pleased and comforted by 
their sympathy, but we are pained by seeing them grieved 
oy our misfortunes. 

4. Therefore, the maoly character will be cautious of thus 
caunng pain to his friends, the effeminate will delight in 
having others to mourn with him. 

5. In prosperity, friends make our time pass pleasantly 
tfherefore, in prosperity we should be glad to invite them, in 
adversity reluctant. 

6. When friends are in trouble, we should go to them 

When they are in prosperity, we should go to them will- 
ingly, if we can forward any object they have in view, but 
reluctantly, if we go to enjoy their good fortime. 

XII. — 1. As the sight of the beloved object is mosc 
desirable to lovers, so society is most desirable to friends. 

Again, a friend is a second self; as, therefore, the percep- 
tion of our own existence is desirable, so is the perceptioiB 
of the existence of a friend. 


2, 3. In whatever pursuit a man thinks the enjoyment of 
life consists, this pursuit he Hkes to enjoy with his Mends. 

4. Hence, the friendship of bad men becomes deprayed, 
that of good men good, by intercourse. 

5. By associating together, good men mutually correct and 
improve each other. 


Introdti^ctory. — ^There are two objects which Aristotle has 
in view in making pleasure the subject of a great part of 
this his concluding book. The Gist is to examine, and 
refute when erroneous, the various opinions which Plato and 
other philosophers had held respecting it ; and the second, 
to show the exact place which pleasure occupies in relation 
to virtue and himian happiness. This he can now safely do, 
without any risk of his hearers being misled by false notions 
and incon*ect estimates of its nature and value. He has 
insisted on a moral preparation and discipHne of the habits 
as the only road to happiness ; and, therefore, the student 
may now be informed that pleasure, such pleasure as he is 
now fitted by moral discipline to appreciate and enjoy, shall 
be the reward of his endeavours, and the adjunct of that 
happiness which he has been seeking by the only road which 
could really lead to its attainment. 

Aristotle shows that pleasure is not "per se" an evil, 
because the grounds on whicli it may be considered to be so 
only belong to those of a grosser corporeal kind, and not to 
the purer enjoyments of the ruling part of man's nature, the 
intellect. By another series of arguments, he also proves, 
on the other hand, that though a good, it is not the chief 

The connection between happiness and pleasure may be 
briefly expressed in the following words : — ^Happiness is an 
energy, and every energy is completed and rendered perfect 
by the pleasurepeculiar to it. It is plain, that, although 
pleasure perfectsthe energy, and is therefore an adjunct 
to it, it is not iiself an energy or activity, for it is not in 

aiiv ANALYSIS OF [pujK x 

any way an act either of the peroeptive or the reasoning 

From this definition of pleasore, we can see how Aris- 
totle, in the next division of this book, arrives at the con* 
dnsion that the highest human happiness must be sooghi 
for in intellectaal contemplation, and that it will be in- 
separably united with pleasure of the highest kind. It is 
plain, also, that he arrives at it by the safest and most 
practical road. 

In order that man's divinest and purest nature, the intel- 
lectual, may energize independently and without impediment, 
his moral nature must have been brought into its highest 
condition ; but when this is the case, the intellect is caipable 
of exercising its powers, that is, it is capable of the act of 
contemplation. Now happiness has been laid down to be an 
energy according to the most perfect virtue ; and this most 
be the virtue of the liighest faculties which man possesses, 
namely, the iDtell^H^uaL But every energy is perfected by 
its own pecidiar pleiisure, and therefore the most perfect 
energies must be accompanied by the highest pleasures. 

L — 1, 2. Pleasure is, more than anything else, intimately 
bound up with the nature of man ; and one of the principal 
parts of education is to instil right notions respecting its 

3. For this reason, as well as becaufie of the erroneous 
views prevalent respecting it, this subject ought not to be 
passed over. 

4. The evil of erroneous views may be seen in the follow- 
ing example : — Suppose a teacher of morals censures plea- 
sure, and is then seen to desire it, this inconsistency entirely 
destroys hLs influence and authority. 

n. — 1 — 3. Eudoxus thought that pleasiu'e was the chief 
good, because — 

1.^ AU creatures seek it. • 

[2.S Pain, its contrary, is universally avoided. 
3.^ It is eligible for its own sake. 

^4.) If added to any other good, it makes it more eligible. 
The excellence of his moral character gave weight to his 

4. Argument (4) proves that pleasure is a good, but no< 
the cliief good. 

OHi P. iii.l ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. lix^ 

5. By an argument sunilar to argument (4\ Plato proved 
that pleasure was not the chief good; for he said that a 
pleafiant life became more eligible by the addition of moral 

6. That pleasure is a good, because all aim at it, is a valid 
argument, although this does not prove that it is the chief 
good. "Hsud. it only been said that irrational creatures sought 
pleasure, an objection might have been made to the argu- 
ment, but not when rational beings are included. 

7. Again, there is no force in the objection, " that because 
pain is an evil, it does not follow that pleasure is a good." 
Of course it is not necessarily so ; but still it is a probable 
argument, and experience supports it. 

m. — 1. Plato says, pleasure is not a good, because it is 
not a quality ; but, for the same reason, neither happiness 
nor the energies of virtue would be qualities. 

2. Again, he says, that good is definite, but that pleasure 
admits of degrees. 

If this objection applies to the act of being pleased, it 
equally applies to justice, and all the moral virtues. 

3. If it is meant to apply to pleasure abstractedly, then 
the distinction is forgotten between mixed and unmixed 
pleasureEf, for the unmixed are definite, t. e, capable of being 

But, after all, health is definite, and admits of degrees ; 
why then should not pleasure be definite, and admit of 
degrees also ? 

4. Again, it is said pleasure is a motion and generation, 
and motions and generations are imperfect. 

It is not a motion, for quickness and slowness oelong to 
every motion. 

5. 6. But although we can become pleased quickly or 
dowly, we 01x0x10% f&sl pleaav/re quickly or slowly. 

7. It cannot be a generation, because that which is 
generated is i^solved into the same elements which pro- 
duced it. 

Now those sensations which pleasure generates, pain 

Again, it is said pain is a want, pleasure the supply of 
that want. 

8. But these wants are corporeal ; therefore, if {^.asiure 

UxTi ANALYSIS OF [book z. 

were the suppilymg of them, the body would feel the plea- 
sure ; but it is the mind, and not the body whidi feels it. 
The truth is, when the want is supplied, pleasure is fell 

9, 10. Besides, there are many pleasures which neither 
imply a want to be satisfied, nor a pain to be removed. 

1 1. If reprehensible pleasures be brought forward in proo^ 
it may be answered, that they are not really pleasures. 

12. Or it may be answered, that the eligibility of pleasures 
depends upon whence they are derived. 

13. Or we may say that pleasures differ in kind. 

14. This may be illustrated by the difference between a 
fideud and a flatterer. 

15. 16. Again, experience proves that pleasures differ; 
for we should not choose to be children all our live% even if 
the pleasures of children were the highest possible. 

And, on the other hand, we should be anxious for some 
things, even if they brought no pleasure. 
17. It is clear, therefore. 

That pleasure is not the chief good. 
That some pleasures are eligible, and thereforo 
goods ; but that others are not so. 
IV. — 1. Pleasure is, like the act of vision, perfect at any 

2. For this reason, it is not a motion ; as a motion is 
imperfect at any separate moment of time. 

3, 4. This may be illustrated by the process of constructing 
a building. 

5, 6. One cannot form any idea of motion, except as con- 
nected with place, as well as time. 

But motion is more properly treated of at length in 
Aristotle's Physics. 

7 — 9. The same arguments which prove tliat pleasure is 
not a motion also prove that it is not a generation. 

10. There is an appropriate pleasure attendant upon 
every act of perception (a'to-yj/ertc), eveiy operation of the in- 
tellect employed either in the investigation of the truth 
{^Lcivoui), or in the contemplation of ti-uth (^twp/a). 

The perfection of pleasure will depend upon the perfect 
state of the faculty or habit, and the perfect nature of the 
object on which it energize^4 or is active. 

To make up a perfect energy, therefore, there are three 



requisites : a perfect faculty, a perfect object, a perfect atten- 
dant pleasure. 

11 — 14. Pleasure, therefore, as the final requisite, perfects 
the energy, not as an efficient, but as a formal cause, not as 
an inherent habit, but as the bloom completes the beauty oi 
those who are in the prime of life. 

The reason why we cannot feel pleasure contiaually is, that 
the sense of enjoyment, like other faculties, flags and wearies 
and becomes blimted, and requires novelty to excite it. 

15, 16. It matters not whether we choose life for the sake 
of pleasure, or pleasure for the sake of life. 

This is, at any rate, plain, that life is energy, that pleasure 
renders our energies perfect, and therefore gives perfection 
to our life. 

V. — 1, 2. Pleasures differ in kind, because — 
(1.) The energies which they perfect differ. 
3, 4. (2.) The appropriate pleasure contributes to iacrease 
each energy ; the connection, therefore, must be 
so close, that if the energies differ, the pleasure 
must likewise. 
& — 8. (3.) Energies are hindered, and the pleasures resulting 
from them destroyed, by pleasures arising from 
other sources. Nay, opposite pleasures act like 
9 — 11. (4.) Energies differ in quality; therefore the atten- 
dant pleasures differ also. It may be observed, 
that in their nature, as well as in point of time, 
the pleasures are more closely connected with 
the energies than with the desires, so that they 
are sometimes, though imperfectly, confounded 
with them. 
12, 13. Different animals, as well as men under different 
circumstances, have each their proper pleasure, as they have 
each their proper energy. ^ 

14 — 16. True pleasure, therefore, is that which appears so 
to the good man ; and those which attend the energies of the 
perfect and happy man are properly the pleasures of man. 

"VL — 1. Kecapitulating what has been said before on the 
same subject, Anstotle asserts that happiness is — 

2, 3. An energy, eligible for its own sake, and therelt I'e 
According to virtue 

zxviu ANALYSIS OF [book x. 

4, 5. Tliat it does not consist in amusement, althougli the 
popular opinion respecting it would lead ns to suppose so, 
because — 
6, 7. (1.^ The best men do not think so. 
8, 9. (2.) Amusement or relaxation is n6t an end, but a 

10. (3.) Serious pursuits are held to be better than 


11. (4.) If happiness were mere amusement, a slave could 

be happy. 
VII. — 1. If happiness is an energy according to virtue, 
t must be according to the highest virtue. 
This must be the virtue of the best part of man. 
Tliat is, the intellect. 
The highest happiness, therefore, is the contemplative. 

2. This energy is — 
1.^ The noblest. 

^2.) The most continuous. 

3. (3.) The pleasantest. 
4, 5. (4.) Self-sufficient. 

Not but what it will require the necessaries of life, but it 
does not, like the moral virtues, require persons to energize 

6. (5.) It is loved for its own sake. 
7, 8. (6.) It is consistent with leisure. 

9. Now the active virtues are displayed in politics or war. 

These allow of no leisure ; and we do not choose all this 
troublesome occupation for its own sake. 

All this being the case, perfect happiness is ^tupla, 

10 — 14. Though this happiness is beyond man, yet, as 
there is in him something divine, he ought to aspire to the 
satisfaction of this divine nature, and not to mind only 
earthly things because he is mortal He should remembei 
that this principle is his "sel^"* and though it may be 

* Bishop Butler, when speaking of that which constitutes each man's 
** self/' uses similar language, doubtless influenced by the same mode of 
thought as Aristotle. He says,—** Persons can trace up the ezistence o£ 
themsclres to a time when the bulk of their bodies was extremely small, 
in comparison of what it is ia mature age.*' This leads him to obsenre, 
" That we have no means of determining by experience what ia the certain 
bulk of the living being each man calls himself ; and yet till it be deter- 
mined that it is larger in bulk than the solid elementary particles of 
matter, which there is no ground to think any natoial power .'^n dia 

tSKT, viii.] ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. bczii 

gmall in size as compaxed witli his bodilj fiume, yet it 
iniineasnrably surpasses it in yaine. 

VIII. — 1 — 3. The happiness resulting from moral virtu** 
is of a secondary kind, because — 

(1.) Moral virtues belong to our compotind nature, nay, 
some seem to be the consequence even of our 
corporeal nature, and to be connected with the 

4. Whereas intellectual virtue is separate and distinct. 

5, (2.) Intellectual happiness requires external good far 

less than moral happiness, for the latter requires 
means, resources, and occasions for its exercise. 
3, 7. (3.) The perfection of a moral act consists not only 
^ ' in the moral principle from which it proceeds, but 
also in the act itself. 

Kow, for the perfection of an act, external means ai'o 

To contemplation, these are even impediments ; nor are 
they required by the contemplative man, except so fax forth 
as he is man. 

8 — 11. The happiness of contemplation is that which 
Aristotle supposes the gods enjoy, as he conceives it ridicu- 
lous that they should be represented as engaged in pursuits 
which give scope and opportunity for exercising the moral 

12, 13. The lower aniniala are incapable of true happi- 
ness, because they are incapable of contemplation : therefore, 
as &r as contemplation extends, so &r do^s happiness. 

14, 15, Although the happy man, so far as he is man, 
requires a certain portion of external good, nevertheless, he 
does not want much, — ^a competence is sufficient. He should 
have " neither poverty nor riches ;" he need not be lord of 
earth and sea ; as private individuals are at least quite as 
capable of hono'tirable acts as men in power. 

16, 17. The opinions of Solon and Anaxagoras seem to 
be perfectly consistent with those of Aristotle. 

18. If arguments agree with facts, the corroborative testi- 
mony borne to their correctness by the opinions of philoso- 
phers ought to have weight. 

19, 20. As contemplation is most probably the occupar> 

•Oive, there is no sort of reason to think death to be the dissolution of 
it.''— Analogy, Part I. chap. i. 

Uxs ANALYSIS OF ["uok x. 

tion of the gods, lie is most likely to be a favourite of heaven, 
who, in his occupations and enjoyments, resembles them ; so 
that, on these grounds, the wise man is the liappiest man. 

IX. — 1, 2. Moral precepts, and a knowledge of the theory 
of virtue, are insufficient to make men virtuous^ and yet, ae 
has been said, the object of moral science is not knowledge, 
but practice. 

3—5. Ethical instruction has power over generous and 
liberal minds, but not over the minds of the masses, who are 
influenced by fear rather than by reason. 

6. Now men are made good by nature, reasoning, and 

Over nature we have no power, and reasoning and teach- 
ing exercise an influence only over minds cultivated for their 
reception by the moral cultivation of the habits, and thus 
instilling right principles, and correct views respecting the 
government of the passions, and on the subject of pleasure 
and pain. 

7, 8. The moral character, therefore, must be formed by 
education, and this education ought to be enforced by law. 

9 — 11. Nor is education and discipline necessary only so 
long as we are children, but throughout the whole of our 
lives. Hence it is thought that exhortations to virtue are 
the duty of legislators, as much as the punishment of evil- 
doers, and the entire banishment of the incorrigible &om the 

12, 13. Paternal or individual authority has no power to 
enforce its decrees, but the law has, and men are willing to 
acknowledge the supremacy of law, although they will not 
submit to individuals. 

Therefore, the state ought to undertake education, and in 
this follow the very rare example of Lacedsemon and a few 
other states. 

14 — 16. If the state neglects the duty, it devolves upon 
the parent. 

In order, therefore for him to qualify himself, he should 
make himself acquamted with the principles of legislation, 
for the same laws which regulate public systems would be 
also applicable to private ones. 

17, 18. There are advantages in private education ; such as 
the force of fllial duty, and the power of adapting the )sx%» 
tem to particular cases. 

CHAP. i\.l ARISTOTLE'S iCTRtcis uiii 

19 — 21. A man may certainly legislate for particular 
eases, even "without scientific knowledge ; but nevertheless a 
theoretical study of the general principles of legislation will 
make him a better educator. 

22 — 28. How, then, is the science of legislation to be 

The sophists profess to teach it, but have no eicperience or 
practical knowledge. 

The statesman has practical knowledge, but he either 
does not understand teaching, or at least he does not profess 
to teach. 

29. Is it then sufficient to study digests and collections of 
laws? No; unless the student has experience and know- 
ledge enough to guide him in determining which laws are 
best, and which, therefore, ought to be selected. 

He must by habit have acquired the power of forming 
a correct judgment of the relative mferits of laws and insti- 

30, 31. Now, this subject has been neglected by previous 
writers; therefore Aristotle proposes, in a treatise on 

(1.) To explain what former writers have correctly laid 

(2.) To examine what are the causes of the preservation 

and destruction of commonwealths. 
(S.) To determine what is the best form of polity- 





What « the Good'* is, and what the different kinds of Ends. 

Every art and every scientific system, and in like 1. 
manner every course of action and deliberate pre- 
ference^ seems to aim at some good ; and conse- 
quently " the Good " has been well defined as " that what ro 
which all things aim at." aya96v isu 

But there appears to be a kind of difierence in 2. 

ends ; for s6me are energies ; others again beyond Ends differ. 

some bein^ 

* Aristotle in his ethical system takes somewhat lower 
ground than Plato, inasmuch as the latter investigates what is "^ 
good, — ^the former what is good for man ; nevertheless, owing 
to this very difference, the system of Aristotie is more prac- 
tical than that of Plato. The chief good is considered by 
Aristotle to be the end of the political science, by which he 
understands that science, the object of which is all that relates 
to the welfare of man. It therefore branches out into three 
divisions : — Ethics, which treat of the good of the individual ; 
Economics, of the good of a family ; Politics, properly so 
called, of Uie good of a state. Aristotle was the author of 
three ethical treatises :— (1.) The Nicomachean Ethics, so 
called either because he dedicated them to his son Nicoma- 
chu8, or because Nicomachus arranged the MS. which 
his father left : Cicero appears to have considered Nico- 
machug the author. (2.) The Eudemian, which were ar- 
ranged and published by his pupil Eudemus. (3.^ The ** Magna 
Moralia.'* It is not improbable that the two latter treatises 
were compiled from the notes of Aristotle's pupib. 


2 ARISTOTLE'S [book i 

•tt«?gic8, these, certain works ; but wherever thei*e a:*3 cei> 
others ^^^ gj^^ besides the actions, there the works are 
naturally better than the energies.^ 

3. Now since there are many actions, arts, and 
sciences, it follows that there are many ends ; for 
of medicine the end is health; of ship-building, a 
ship ; of generalship, victory ; of economy, wealth. 

4. But whatever of such arts are contained imder any 
Endfl of the qj^q faculty, (as, for instance, imder horsemanship is 
superior to contained the art of making bridles|, and all other 
those of horse furniture ; and this and the whole art of war 
subordinate is contained under generalship ; and in the same 
•"**• manner other arts are contained under different 

faculties ;) in all these the ends of the chief arts are 
more eligible than the ends of the subordinate ones ; 
because for the sake of the former, the latter are 
^* pursued It makes, however, no difference whether 
the energies thems^elves, or something else besides 
these, are the ends of actions, just as it would make 
no difference in the sciences above mentioned. 

I* The term energy, which I have retained as the translation 
of ivkpytiat requires some explanation. Energy, then, implies 
an activity or active state ; it is opposed to dvvafAiQy ue, cti^a- 
city, faculty, potentiality, inasmuch as the latter may be 
dormant, tfnd though capable of improvement, may be left 
unimproved ; and it is possible for a thing to have the capa- 
city of being, and yet not to be : as, for example, a coal has 
the capacity for burning, and yet it may perhaps never do so. 
Energy implies actual and active existence, hot a mere possi- 
ble or potential one. It is opposed to c^t; , habit, because by 
means of it habits are acquired ahd forme^. 

Hence we can see the difference between an energy and a 
work (J^pyoy) when considered as ends or final causes of 
action. Whenever we enter upon a course of action, we have 
one of two objects in view, — either the action itself, or some 
production or work to which it leads. For example, a painter 
paints either merely for the sake of painting, feeling an actual 
Ueiight in this active exertion of his faculty for its own sake, 
or in order to produce a picture ; in the former case, his end* 
{reXog) is an energy, in the latter a work. An energy, thers- 
fore, is perfect and complete, and has its end in itself, it looks 
to nothing further, it is eligible for its own sake ; and \ieooe 
seeing* contemplating, being happy &c., are energies. 

aMAP. 11. J ETHICS. 


IVhai is " the good** of Man, 

If, therefore, there is some end of all tliic we do, i, 
which we wish for on its own account, and if wo The chief 
wish for all other things on account of this, and do ^?^^ ^^ * 
not choose everything for the sake of something ^^ °^' 
else (for thus we should go on to infinity, so that 
desire would be empty and vain), it is evident that 
this must be ''the good," and the greatest good. 
Has not, then, the knowledge of this end a great 2. 
influence on the conduct of life 1 and, like archers. Knowledge 
shall we not be more likely to attain that which is ^^ ** useful 
right, if we have a mark? If so, we ought to 
endeavour to give an outline at least of its na- 
ture, and to deteimine to which of the sciences 
or faculties it belongs. 

Now it would appear to be the end of that which 3. 
is especially the chief and master science, and this ^^^ *J**. 
seems to be the political science ; for it directs what chief o?* 
sciences states ought to cultivate, what individuals political 
should learn, and how far they should pursue them, sdenoe. 
We see, too, that the most valued faculties are com- 4* 
prehended under it, as, for example, generalship, 
economy, rhetoric. Since, then, this science makes 5. 
use of the practical sciences, and legislates re- 
specting what ought to be done, and what abstained 
from, its end must include those of the others ; so 
that this end must be the good of man. For al- 
though the good of an individual and a state be the 
same, still that of a stat« appears more important 
and more perfect both to obtain and to preserve. 
To discover the good of an individual is satisfiustory, 6. 
bufc to discover that of a state or a nation is more 
noble and divine. This, then, is the object of my 
treatise, which is of a political kind. 


ARISTOTWl'S V»'^a« »• 


Thai Exactness depends on the nature of the subject, JVhat 
are the qualifications of the Ethical Student. 

1. The subject would be sufficiently discussed, if it 
Exactness were explained so far as the subject-matter allows ; 
depends f^j. exactness is not to be sought in all treatises 
sublet- alike, any more than in all productions of mechanic 
matter. art. But things honourable and things just, the 

2. considei*ation of which falls within the province of 
political science, admit of such vast difference and 
uncertainty, that they seem to exist by law only, 
and not in the natiu^e of things. Things good have 
jJso a similar uncertainty, because from them ca- 
lamities have befallen many. For some, we know, 
have perished through wealth, and others through 

3. courage. We must be content, then, when treat- 
ing of, and drawing conclusions from such subjects, 
to exhibit the truth roughly, and in outline ; and 
when dealing with contingent matter, to draw con- 
clusions of the same kind. 

4. According to the same rule ought we to admit 
each assertion ; for it is the part of an educated man 
to require exactness in each class of subjects, only 
so far as the nature of the subject admits ; for it 
appears nearly the same thing to allow a mathema 
iician to speak pereuasively, as to demand demon - 
^'irations from an orator. 

D. Now each individual judges well of what he knows; 
Requisites and of these he is a good judge. In each particuhtr 
^^"^ * P^^l^^"* science, therefore, he is a good jud;]^e who has been 

instructed in them ; and imivei-saily, he who ha a 

6. been instmcted in all subjects. Therefore a young 

Young men man is not a proper person to study political scieiic<», 

r^t proper ^^^ j^^ ^ inexperienced in the actions of life : but 

these are the subjects and grounds of this ti*eat]so. 

Moreover, being inclined to follow the dictates of 

passion, he will listen in vain, and without benoiltb 


fiiace tlie end is not knowledge, but practice." But 7* 
it makes no difference, whether he be a youth in ^ youui or 
age, or a novice m character ; tor the detect fuises same, 
not from age, but from his life and pursuits being 
according to the dictates of passion ; for to such 
persons knowledge becomes useless, as it does to the 
incontinent ; but to those who regulate their appe- 
tites and actions according to reason, the knowledge 
of these subjects must be very beneficial. Concern- 
ing the student, and in what manner he^is to admit 
our arguments, and what we propose to treat of, let 
thus much be prefaced. 


XVhai the highest Good is. False opinions of men concerning 
it. Whether we should argue Analytically or Synthetically. 

But let us resume the subject from the commence- 1. 
ment. Since all knowledge and every act of deli- Subject re. 
berate preference aims at some good, let us show !?°*^ j f™ 
what that is, which we say that the political science c. ii. 
aims at, and what is the highest good of all things 
which are done. As to its name, indeqd, almost all 2. 
men are agreed ; for both the vulgar and the edu- ^^. ^^ ^^^^ 
cated call it happineas ; but they suppose that to happiness 
live well mid do well are synonymous with being but differ * 
happy. But concerning the nature of happiness as to its 
they ar? at variance, and the vulgar do not give the nature, 
aame definition of it as the educated ; for some ima- ' 
gine it to be an obvious and well-laiown object — 
such as pleasure, or wealth, or honour ; but different 
men think differently of it : and frequently even the Diffeient 
same person entertains different opinions respectinij views. 

* Such passages as these are proofs of what was stated in 
note (a) ; viz., that the system of Aristotle is more practical 
than that of Plato. It was this eminently practical turn o. 
mind whidi led him to make his principal object not so much 
philosophical speculation, as the induction of facts and phe- 
«oraena, and ''be definition of terms. 

6 ARISTOTLE'S [iioo« t. 

it at diffecetit timcB ; for, when diKenseil, lie bolieroi 

it to bo health ; when poor, wealth ; but, consciaus 

" of their own ignorance, they admiro those who Bay 

that it ia something great, and beyond them. Some, 

4. agwn, liave supposed tliat, besides these numerona 

Flilo's goods, there is another aelf-exiatent good, which is 

Xdcdto to ail these the cause of their being goods.'! Now, to 

examine aU the ojauiona would perhaps be rather 

iiuprofitahlo ; bat it will be sufficient to examine 

those which Ue most upon, the aur&ce, or seem to be 

Let it not, however, eacajTe our notice, that ar- 
guments from piinciplea differ from iU'gumenta to 
principlea; lor well did Plato also propose doubts 
on this point, and inquire whether the right way 
is from pidnciples or to principles ; just as in the 
courea from the starting-post to the goal, or the 
contrary." For we must begin from those things 
that are known ; and things are known in two ways; 
, _ - for aome are known to ourselvea, others are gene- 
'»/"''• rally known ; perhaps, therefore, we should begiu 
Irom tho things known to ourselves. 
7. Whoever, therefore, is to study with advantage 
Thtstadent the thiaga wliich are honourable (md just, and in 
a word the subjects of political science, must have 
been well and morally educated ; for the point from 
must begin is the/ael, aud if this is satis- 
add ttie 
r would 



moral tv 

'' Aristotle is here referring to Plato's tlieory of ideas o 
' original aolietjpal formE, whidi he diicusEira more at length 

' The jeomBlricnl and Elgebraic prcjtrsscs furnish us with 
excellent illustrations of Ejntbedcal and analytical reuoninc ( 
I. e. of reasoning ani ruv apx^u nat M tAs ipx^t- "* 
the former we assume certain fixed principlea, (he Biioms, &c. 
acd from them dedace new results ; tram Ihem «e proceed li 
others, and so on. In the latter ne assume the lesnlt ■ 
given, and from thegs conditiona inve^igata what cauaet 
I. e. what values, of the unknown quantity will produce it. ' 

' Aristotle, in his Analytics, tells us there are fbtir nbJMl* 
of investigation ; viz., tJ Bri, ri Bidn, ii fori, tI Joti. Tils 
knowledge of the iiiri constitoteB the difference beW»B 


easily acquire, the principles. But let liim who pcM- 
sesses neither of these qiialificatioiis, hear the serti- 
ments of Hesiod : — 

** Far does the man all other men excel, 
Who, from his wisdom, thinks in all things well. 
Wisely considering, to himself a friend. 
All for the present best, and for the end. 
Nor is the man without his share of praise. 
Who well the dictates of the wise obeys : 
But he that is not wise himself, nor can 
Hearken to wisdoib, is a useless man.'' 

Hesiod, Op. et Di., translated. 


That Happiness is neither Pleasure^ nor Honour^ nor Virtue-, 

nor Wealth. 

But let us return to the point where we commenced i. 
this digression ; for men seem not unreasonably to Subject 
form their notion of " the good," ancl of happiness, agal^re- 
from observing the different lives which men lead. *""*"• 
The many and most sordid class suppose it to be 
pleasure, and therefore they are content with a life 
of enjoyment. 

For there are three kinds of lives which are most 2. 
prominent — first, that just mentioned ; secondly, 
the political ; and, thii'dly, the contemplative. 

Now, the vulgar appear entirely slavish, delibe- 3. 
rately preferring the hfe of brutes ; but they find a Opinion of 
i*eason for what they do, because many persons in ^l voWoi, 
positions of authority are led by the same passions 
as Sardanapalus. 

But those who are educated,? and fond of active 4. 
pursuits, suppose it to be honour, ^or tliis may be Of xaoitv' 
almost said to be the end of political life ; but it "^ ™ , 
appeal's to be too superficial for the object of our *'P"*"**'*» 

empirical and scientific knowledge, as empirics know the fact 
hrif bat not the reason tcori. 
> 01 x^H^v'^C* — hommes instmits {Michelet). 

8 ARISrOTLE'S [book i. 

inquiiy ; for it seems to reside rather in those who 
confer, than in those who receive, honour : but we 
have a natural conception, that " the good" is some- 
thing peculiarly one's own, and difficidt to be taken 

5. away. Moreover, men seem to pursue honour in 
It is not order that they may believe themselves to be good ; 
honour. ^^ qj^j j^^g n^^y q^q^ ^q ]^q honoured by vnse men, 

and by their acquaintances, and on account of vir- 
tue : it is plain, therefore, that, at least in tJieir 

6. opinion, virtue is superior. But perhaps it may . 
Nor virtue, rather be supposed that ^-iiiiue is the end of the 

political life ; but this apjiears too incomplete, fof 
it seems possible for a man, while in possession of 
virtue, either to sleep or be inactive tlirough life ; 
and besides this, to suffer the greatest misfortunes 
and calamities. But no one would pronounce a man 
happy who lives such a life as this, unless he were 
defending a favourite hypothesis.^" Enough, there- 
fore, of those things ; for we have treated of theiir 
y sufficiently in our encyclic works.^ 
The con- The third life is the contemplative ; which we 

terrplatiTe shaU make the subject of future consideration. 
IJ^^- But the money-getting life^ does violence to our 

r^ ' natural inclinations ; and it is obvious that riches 

getting life. ^^ ^^^ *^^ good which we are in search of; for tliey 

^ The Stoics did defend this paradox, affirming that virtue 
or wisdom constituted happiness, even in the midst of the 
(greatest misfortunes. See Horace, Sat. I. 3. 

* The philosophers of antiquity had necessarily two methocls 
of teaching, the one esoteric or acroamatic, addressed to those 
who pursued science in a philosophic spiiit ; the other exoteric 
or encyclic, adapted to those who were going through a course or 
curnculum of general study. The exoteric treatises therefore 
would, generally speaking, embrace the usual subjects of Athe- 
nian liberal education ; but as the distinction is one depending 
on the method of treatment rather than on the subject-matter, 
the same subjects might be treated either esoterically or 
exoterically, according to circumstances. Tiie definition give& 
by Cicero (de Finibus, v. 5) is not correct. , 

^ The meaning of the term piaicQ, as applied to the mcntc^'- 
getting life, is evidently that it does violence to our natural 
instincts, which lead us to look upon money as a means, and 
not an end ; whereas the man who devotes himself to 
getting money generally learns to consider it as an end. 


are merely useful, and for the sake of some other 
end. One would therefore rather suppose, that " the 
good " is one of the ends before mentioned^ for they 
are loved on their own account; but even they do not 
appear to be so, although many arguments have been 
expended upon them. liCt these things be dismissed 
from oui' consideration. 


That " ihe Good'* is not a universal, according to one ideaJ 

But perhaps it would be better to examine the 1. 

theoiy of a universal good, and to inquire what is I'lato's 

doctnne (H 

^ Previous to examining the nature of the doctrine itself, Usa, 
it is important to observe that Aristotle does not attempt to 
discuss the truth or falsehood of the Platonic doctrine of the 
idea generally ; but that the only object which he has in view 
is to prove that the chief good is not an idea. . 

Hence he assumes as true, certain acknowledged positions 
in the Platonic theory, and shows that these are inconsistent 
with the belief in the ideal nature of the dyadoi/. After 
having done this, he dismisses the subject with the remark' 
that such a view would be utterly unpractical ; whereas some- 
thing practical is the object of his investigation. Let us now 
proceed to examine what the Platonic doctrine of the idea 
is. According to Plato, the sensible is in a state of continual 
change, and consequently the sensible is not the true. But 
the object of true science is to investigate what each thing is 
of itself absolutely (to avTo iKacrrov, Tb avrb kuO' aura). 
Hence he assumed that there existed from all eternity certain 
archetypal forms immutable and absolutely existent; and 
that all else which exists, either physically or metaphysi- 
cally, is only real so far as it participates in them (/xfHx^N 
Koivojviav ix^i)* These forms are the " ideas :" and the idea 
may be defined, ** That which makes Everything which is, to 
be what it is," or ** whatever exhibits an eternal truth, which 
forms the basis of the mutability of the sensible. '^ These were 
the types (irapadfiyiiaTa) after which God made all created 
things, impressing their likeness upon matter {vXij), which was 
itself also eternal, formless, yet fitted to receive form. From 
the universal nature of the UeOf it follows that there must be 
ideas of all abstract qualities, such as the good, the beautiful, 
the evil, health, strength, magnitude, colour ; »lso of all sensible 
object!, such as a horse, a temple, a cup, a man ; even of rach 

Different in 
each cate- 

W ARISTOTLE'S [b^wk i. 

meant by it, although siich an inquiry involves diffi- 
culties, because men who are our Mends have 
introduced the doctrine of ideas. But perhaps it 
would seem to be better, and even necessary, at least 
for the preservation of truth, that we should even 
do away with private feelings, especially as we are 
philosophers; for both being dear to ois, it ia a 
sacred duty to prefer truth. 

2. But those who introduced this doctrine, did not 
Good is suppose ideas of those things in which they predi- 
^" te cated priority and posteriority, and therefore they 

did not establish an idea of number."^ But the good 
is predicated in substance, in quality, and in relation. 
But the self-existent and the essence are naturally 
prior to that which is related ; for tliis is like an 
offshoot, and an accident of the essence ; so that 
there cannot be any common idea in these. 

3. Again, since the good is predjgatad in as many 
ways as being (for it is predicated in essence, as God 

«-^ watc- ^^^ intellect ; and in quality, as the virtues ; and in 
quantity, as the mean ; and in relation, as utility ; 
and in time, as opportunity ; and in place, as a 
habitation, and so on), it is evident, that it cannot ] 
be anything common, universal, and one : for then ^ 

individual man; e. ff.f Socrates and Simmias. It is evident, 
therefore, that we must not confound the Platonic idea with what 
we mean by abstract ideas, which are properties, accidents, &c. 
drawn off from objects, and contemplated separately; as, 
e. g,t we may contemplate the scent or colour of a flower. 
Each of these, according to the Platonic theory, would have 
its corresponding *' idea ;'' but still, as we have shown, there 
are other ideas which are not abstract. Nor did Plato teach 
that the idea is arrived at by abstraction ur generalization ; it 
is self-existent, eternal, and becomes known to us in our pre- 
sent condition by reminiscence ; having been previously knowc 
to us in a former state or being. 

™ As Plato held with the Pythtgoreans that number and tha 
elements of number were the elements of all things, therefore 
the ideas must be identical with numbers. In order, therefore, 
to understand the assertion that Plato did not form an '* idea" 
of numbers, we must be careful to distinguish between the 
ideal numbers {apiOfiol ddtjriKoi) and the numbers which 
admit of continuation {(TVfi^XrjTot)^ which are the mathema- 
tical ; to the latter Aristotle refers in this passage. Set 
Brewer's Ethic-s, Appendix, pp. 451-2. 


it would not have been predicated in all the cate- 
gories, but in one only." 

Again, since of things which ere comprehended 4. 
under rnip idra thf rf^ is also one science, there would Also in the 
then be some one science of all goods ; but now ^*™® ®**®* 
there are many sciences, even of goods which fall ^ ^* 
imder the same category ; as, for instance, under the 
category of opportunity ; for in war there is the 
science of generalship, but in disease, that of medi- 
cine ; and again, in the category of the mean, in 
diet, there is the science of medicine ; in labours, 
that of gynmastics. 

But one might doubt as to what they mean by 5. 
the term se^anything, since in self-man and man ^ J" ^^^ 
the re is o;ne and the same definition of man ; for the same, 
as far as they are man, they will not differ. But if 
so, neither will the good and the self-good differ, so 
far as they are good ; nor yet will the self-good be 
more a good from being eternal ; if the white wliich 
is of long duration is not whiter than that which 
lasts but for a day. 

But the Pythagoreans seem to speak more plausi- 6. 
bly on the subject when they place unity in the ^C*^!?** 
co-ordinate series of goods ;° whom Speusippus ^^^^^ ^^ 
also seems to havo followed. Speusip- 

The subject, however, may be discussed in pus. 
another point of view ; and what haa been said 7. 

' The categories are certain principles of classification, and 
are ten in number; viz. substance, quantity, quality, rela- 
tion, action, passion, time, place, situation, possession. See 
on this subject Whateley's Logic. 

** The Pythagoreans held that there were ten universal 
principles, which are exhibited in the following co-ordinaU 
m>lumns or ovaroixia : — 






















12 ARlSTOTLE^S. [coor k 

admits of dispute, because our arguments are not 

Goods di- applicable to every good ; but those things whicli 

ridcd into are pursued and Loved on their owa-a«count, are 

iwo classes, predicated under one species, whilst the thing^i 

which produce these, or in any way preserve them, 

or prevent the contrary, are said to be goods on 

8. account of these, and afler another manner. It is 
evident, then, that goods may be so called in two 
ways ; some on their own account, the others on 
accoimt of tllelormer. Having, therefore, separated 
those which are good on their own accoimt, from 
those which are useful, let us consider whether they 
are predicated under one idea, 

9. Kow, what kind of goods may we assume to be 
goods on their own accoimt? May we assume 
all those wliich are pursued even when alone, such 
as wisdom, sight, and some pleasures and honours ? 
for these, even if we pursue them on accoimt of 
something else, one would nevertheless class among 
things good on their own accoimt : or is there no- 
thing else good per se besides the idea 1 so that, in 
this view of the subject, the doctrine of the idea is 

10. without foundation. But if these also l>elong to 
the class of goods on their own accoimt, the defini- 
tion of good must necessarily show itself to be the 
same in all these ; just as the definition of white- 
ness in snow, and white lead ; but of honour, and 
prudence, and pleasm'e, the definitions are distinct 
and different in the very point which constitutes 
them goods. The good, therefore, is not anything 
common under one idea. 

11. In what sense, then, is the tenn good predicated 
of these different tilings? for they are not like 

Different things which are homonymous accidentally ; is it 
things because they all proceed from one, or tend towards 
called fji^Q good? or is it not rather predicated analogically 1 

"^aloffv'^°"^ For as in the body siglit is a good, so is intellect in 

the soul ; and, in like manner, different things are 

goods under different circumstances. 

12. But perhaps these questions should be dismissed 
The doc- for th? present, for it would more properly belong 


to another branch of philosophy to discuss chem f^ine of Um 
minutely. The same observation may be applied i<^«* "*>* 
to the doctrine of the idea ; for if there is some 13 
one good predicated in common, or something sepa- 
i-ate, independent by itself, it is obvious it would 
neither be practical nor capable of being acquired 
by man ; but something of tliis kind is the object 
of our present inquiry. 

Perhaps, however, some might think that it were ^'^• 
well to know it, with a view to those goods which J^ *''^' . 
are to be possessed and acted upon ; for having this of It^sef^! 
as a pattern, we shall better know the goods which 
are so relatively to ourselves : and if we know them, 
we shall obtain them. Certainly this position has 15. 
some plausibility, but it appears to be at variance 
with the sciences; for all of them, although aspiring 
after some good, and seeking to supply that which is 
deficient, omit the knowledge of this ; and yet, that all 
artists should be ignorant of an aid of such conse- 
quence, and never inquire for it, is not at all reason- 
able. It is likewise difficult to say how a weaver or 16. 
carpenter would be benefited with reference to his Probab? 
own art, by knowing the self-good ;P and how will ^^^' 
lie who has contemplated the idea itself be a more 
skilful physician, or a more able general 1 for the 
pliysician does not appear to regard health in this 
manner, but the health of man, or rather, perhaps, 
tliat of a particular individual ; for he cures indi- 
vidual ca^es. Let it be sufficient, then, to have 
Raid so much on these subjects. 

^ In this point the opinion of Cicero is at vnriance with that 
of Aristotle, for he believed that an attist would derive prac- 
tical benefit from the mental contemplation of i'^eal ezcellec<?. 
—Vide Cic. Orat. c. 2. 

14 ARISTOTLE'S Pboox i. 


IVhai is the End of all Human AeliOM. 

1. Now let US again return to the good we are in 
Babject search of, and inquire what it is ; for it seems to 
■f med*' be different in different courses of action and arts ; 

for it is different in the art of medicine, in general- 
ship, and in like manner in the rest. What then 
is the good in each ? Is it not that, for the sake 
of which the other things are done 1 Now in the 
art of medicine this is health ; in the art of general- 
ship, victory ; in architecture, a house ; in different 

2. arts, different ends. But in every action and delibe- 
rate preference, it is the end \ since for the sake of 
this all men do everything else. So that, if there 
is any end of all human actions, this must be the 
practical good ; but if more ends than one, these 
must be it. By a different path, therefore, our 
alignment has arrived at the same point ; and this 
we must attempt to explain still farther. 

3. Since ends appear to be more tlian one, and of 
^dth ^^* these we choose some for the sake of others, as, for 
most final, ^i^tance, riches, musical instruments, and univer-^ 

sally all instruments whatever, it is plain that they 
are not all perfect. But the chief good appears to 
be something perfect ; so that if there is some one 
end which is alone perfect^ that must be the very 
thing which we are in search of ; but if there ai'e 

4. many, it must be the most perfect of them. Now 
Ends are we say, that the object pursued for its own sake is 
^®* more perfect than that pursued for the sake of 

another ; and that tho object which is never chosen 
on account of another thing, is more perfect 
than those which are eligible both by themselves, 
and for sake of that other : in fine, we call that 
completely perfect, which is always eligible fi» 
its own sake, and never on account of anytbiug 

CHAP. V11.3 ETHICS. 15 

Of siich a kind does liappiness seem in a peculiar 5. 
manner to be ; for tlus we always choose on its HappineM 
own account, and never on account of anything else. ** ''^^«*"- 
Bat honour, and pleasui^e, and intellect, and every ^i» ^^^^j 
virtue we choose partly on their own account (for aiptrov, 
were no further advantage to result from them, we 
should choose each of them), but we choose them also 
for the sake of happiness, because we suppose tlu\t 
we shall attain happiness by their means ; but no one 
chooses happiness for the sake of these, nor in Ehort 
for the S£ike of anything else. 

But the same result seems also to arise from self- ^* 
sufficiency, for the perfect good appears to be self- ^ ^^i 
sufficient ; but we attribute self-sufficiency not to him bemg 
who leads, for himself alone, a solitary life, but to him avrapKig 
who lives also for his parents and children, and wife, 
and, in short, for his f liends and fellow-citizens ; since 
man is naturally a social being. Some limit, however, 
must be assigned ; for, if we go so far as to include 
parents and descendants, and the friends of Mends, 
we may go on to infinity. But this must be made 
the subject of future investigation. We define the 7. 
"self-sufficient" as that which, when separated fix)m Avrapxti^. 
everything else, makes life eligible, and in want of ^«fi"^« 
nothing ; and such we suppose the nature of happi- 
ness to be ; and moreover, we suppose it the most 
eligible of all things, even when not reckoned toge- 
ther with any other good ; but more eligible, doubt- 
less, even when reckoned together with the smallest 
good ; for the part added becomes an excess of 
good ; but of two goods the greater is always more 
eligible. Happiness, then, appears something per- 
fect and self-sufficient, being the end of all human 

actions. — -i. 

« But, perhaps, to say that happiness is the g. 
greatest good, appears like stating something which 
is already granted; and it is desirable that we 
should explain still more cleai'ly what it is. Per- Wliat the 
liaps, then, this may be done, if we take the peculiar ^f 7^^, 0^ 
work of man ; for as to tlie musician, and statuary, "'*'* ^' 
Hnd to every artist, and in shoi-t to ail who have 

10 ARISTOTLE'S [book i» 

any work or course of action, the good and excel* 
lence of each appears to corndst in their peculiar 
work ; so would it appear to be with man, if there 
is any peculiar work belonging to him. Are there, 
then, certain peculiar works and courses of action 
9. belonging to the carpenter and shoemaker ; and is 
there no peculiar work of man, but is he by nature 
without a work ? or, as there appears to be a cer- 
tain work peculiarly belonging to the eye, the 
hand, and the foot, and, in fine, to each of tho 
members, in like manner would not one assume a 
certain work besides all these peculiarly belonging 
to man? 
10. What, then, must this peculiar work be? For 
life man appears to share in common with plants ; 
but his peculiar work is the object of our inquiry : 
we must, therefore, sepai'ate the life of nutrition 
and growth. Then a kind of sensitive life would 
next follow ; but this also he ajppears to enjoy in 
common with the horse, the ox, and every animal 
11- There remains, therefore, a certain practical life of a 
It« defini- i^eing which possesses reason ; and of this one part is, 
as it were, obedient to I'eason, the other as possessing 
it, and exercising intellect. But this life also being 
spoken of in two ways [according to energy and 
<aT* h4p- according to habit], we must take that according 
yitar. ^^ energy ; for that appears to be more properly so 
12. called. Now if the work of man is an energy of 
the soul according to reason, or not without reason ; 
and if we say that the work of man, and of a goocl 
man, is the same generically, as in the. case of a 
harper, and a good harper (and so, in short, in all 
Kar^ tJpe- cases, superiority in each particular excellence being 
rijv added to each particular work) ; for it is the work 

of a harper to play, of a good harper to play well : 
and If we assume the peculiar work of man to be a 
kind of life, and this life an energy of th« sou? 
and actions performed with reason ; and the pecu- 
liar work of a good man to be the same tbings 
done well, and honom^ably j and everything to be 
complete according to its j)roper excellence : if. T 

tuxv, vif.j ETHICS. ir 

rei)eat, these things arc true, it follows, that iiiaa*s 
chief good is " an energy of the soul according to 
nrtue ;" but if the virtues ai'e more than one, 
according to the best and most perfect virtue ; and 
besides this, we must add, in a i^erfect life :i for as Ij^ ^t\. 
neither one swallow, nor one day, makes a spring ; ftXtitft, 
540 neither does ons day, nor a short time, make a 
man blessed and happy. 

Let this then be Sie good in its general outlines ; 13. 
for it is necessary, perhaps, first to sketch, then '^^ S^'^'^ 
afterwards to complete the drawing. But it would '^^^^ ^ 
.seem to be incumbent upon every one to improve 
and distinctly delineate the figures which are cor- 
rectly sketched, and time would seem to be the dis- 
coverer of such features as these, or at least a good 
assistant ; whence also proceed the improvement.^ 
in the arts ; for it is the duty of every one to sup- 
ply deficiencies. But it is necessary to bear in 1 4 
mind what has been mentioned already, and not to 
demand exactness equally in all subjects, but in 
each according to its subject-matter, and just so hx 
ijd is appropriate to the system to which it belongs : 
for the carpenter and geometrician examine a right 
angle with different views ; the one, so far as it is 
usefiil for his work, whilst the other investigates its 
nature and properties; for his object is the con- 
templation of the truth, for he is a contemplator 
of the trutL In the same manner, then, must we 15. 
act in all other instances, that the mere accessories 
may not become more numerous than the works 
themselves. Nor, indeed, is the cause to be re- "^® "!"* 
quired in ieJl cases alike ; but it suffices in some, as without Um 
f6r instance, in first principles, that their existence iion 
1)6 clearly ahown ; but the existence is the first 
and the principle. 

Now of principles some arc perceived by indue- 16« 
tion, others by sensation, othets by a certain habit, 
and diilerent principles in difierent ways ; but ire 

^ By a perfect life (filog rkXeiog) Aristotle meant,'' first, the 
derdopineDt of life to the highest degree of perfection ; andf 
mKtmmff consistency from the beginning to the end. 


\n ARISTOTLE'S [book i 

most endeavour to trace each of ilicm in the man* 
ner in which they are formed by nature ; and iro 
must use our utmost endeavours that they be well 
defined, for that has great weight in the discussiona 
which follow. For the principle seems to be moi^ 
than the half of the whole, and many of the sub- 
jects of our inquiry seem to become clear by means 
of this. 


Thai (he Ancients agree tcHh Aristotle on the subject of 


1. But we must consider the subject of happiness not 
Different q^j q^ regards the conclusion which we have drawn, 
shown ^^ and the premisses from wliich our arguments are 
to coincide derived, but also as regards the statements of others 
in some concerning it j for all the properties of a thing 
degree with accord with the ti-uth ; but the truth is at once dis- 
Aristotle cordant with falsehood. 

2. Now, goods being divided into three classes,' and 
Happiness some being called external, others said to belong to 
a good of i]^Q gQui^ and others to the body, we call those be- 
the soul, j^^g^g ^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ supericJr, and good, in a 

higher sense than the others ; but we assume, that 
the actions and energies of the soul belong to the 

3. soul. So that our assertion would be correct, accord- 
ing to this opinion at least, which is ancient, and 
allowed by philosophers, that certain actions and 
energies are the end ; for thus it becomes one of tho 
goods of the soul, and not one of the external ones. 

4. Also, that the happy man lives well, and doea 
The happy well, harmonizes with our definition ; for we have 
man lives almost defined happiness as a kind of well living 
Ifs^^ll. -dwell doing. 

' This threefold division of goods is due to tne Fytbogo 
reans, and was adopted by the Peripatetics. — See Cic. Aaid« 
i. 9 ; Tufic. V. 85. Brewer^ 


Again, all tlie qualities required ixi happiness 5. 
appear to exist in our definition;' for to some it All rcqai- 
eeems to be virtue, to others prudence, and to ^J^^t^tl " 
others a kind of 'vnsdom : to some, again, these, or definition, 
some one of these, with pleasure, or at least, not with- 
out pleasure ; others, again, include external pros- 
perity : but of these opinions, many ancient writers 
support some ; a few celebrated philosophers the 
others ; but it is reasonable to suppose that none 
of these have totally erred, but that in some one 
particular, at least, they are for the most part right. 

Now with those, who say that it is every 6. 
virtue, or some virtue, our definition accords ; for It is active 
to this virtue belongs the energy. But perhaps it ^ir^^e. 
makes no slight difference whether we conceive the 
chief good to consist in possession, or in use ; in 
habit, or in energy. For it is possible, that the 7. 
habit, though really existing, should cause the 
performance of no good thing ; as in the case of a 
man who is asleep, or in any other way is incapable 
of acting : but that the energy should do so is im- 
possible ; for of necessity it will act, and will act 
welL But as in the Olympic games, it is not the 8. 
most beautiful and the strongest who are crowned, 
but those who engage in the conflict (for some of 
these are the conquerors) ; thus it is those only who 
act aright, who obtain what is honourable and good*^ 
in life. Moreover, their life is of itself pleasant ; 9. 
for to be pleased, is one of the goods of the soul ; It is essen 
but that is to every man pleasant, with reference ^^^^ I^^**' 
to which he is said to be fond of such a thing ; as, 
for example, a horse to the man who is fond of 
horses, and a spectacle to the man who is fond of 
spectacles ; in like manner also, tilings just to the 
lover of justice ; and, in a word, \irtuous things to 
the lover of virtue. 

• These primary opinions respecting happiness our author 
also enumerates iz^ his Eudemean Ethics. The first he refers . 
to Socrates, Plato, and some others ; the second to Socrates :, 
the third to Thales and Anaxagoras. Amongst those who 
added external happiness, he mentions Xenocrates. — j^eU, 
fuoied by Cardwelf, 


to ARISTOTLE'S [book i 

10. Now the things tliat are pleasant to the gcno* 
rality of mankind, are at variance with each other, 
because they are not naturally pleasant ; but things 
naturally pleasant, are pleasant to those who aro 
fond of that which is honourable ; and such are 
always the actions according to virtue ; so tliat to 
these men they are pleasant, even of themselves. 
Their life therefore stands in no need of the addi 
tion of pleasure, as a kind of appendage or amulet, 
but possesses pleasui*e in itself; for, besides what 
has been said, the man who does not take pleasure 
in honourable actions, has no title to be called good ; 
for neither would any i>erson call that man just, 
who takes no pleasure in acting justly ; nor that 
man liberal, who takes no pleasure in liberal actions ; 
and in the other cases in like manner. But if 
this is the case, the actions of virtue must be 
pleasant of themselves ; and yet they are also 
good and honourable, and each of these in the 
highest degree, if, indeed, the good man judges 
rightly concerning them ; but he judges as we said. 
\ 1 . Happiness, therefore, is the best, the most honour- 
Tnt three able, and the most pleasant of all things ; and 
qualities these qualities are not divided, as in the Delian 
bL'^^^vfe^^s? inscription : " That wHch is most just is most ho- 
nourable, and health is the most desirable, and the 
obtaining what we love the most pleasant :"*^ for 
all these qualities exist in the best energies ; and 
these, or the best one of them, we say that happi- 
12. ness is. But, nevertheless, it appears to stand in 
External need of the addition X)f external goods, as we said ; 
goods con- for it is impossible, or not easy, for one who is 
tribute to j^^^ furnished with external means, to do honour- 
^^^'° ' able actions ; for many things are done, as it were, 
by means of instruments, by friends, by money, or 

* Utpiairra were amulets suspended by the women round 
the necks of children, to protect them against enchantment.-- 

* The same sentiment occurs in the Creusa of Sophocles :— • 

KdXXtoTov ion tovvSikov irupvKBvaiy 
^ ii}'iffTov dk Zyv avooov' ^diOTOv 5* bry 


political influence. And if deprived of some things, 13. 
Taen sully their happiness, as, for instance, of noble Mi^*foI- 
birth, good children, or beauty : for the man of ^t^e^rw 
deformed appearance, and of ignoble birth, and the it. 
solitary and childless man, is not at all likely to be 
happy : and still less perhaps is he likely to be 
so whose children or Mends are utterly wicked, or 
have been good, and are dead. As, therefore, we 14. 
said, there seems to be need of the addition of this 
sort of external prosperity; whence some people set 
down good fortune as synonymous with happiness, 
and others virtue. 


How Happiness is acquired. 

Hence also a question is raised, whether happiness i. 
is acquired by learning, by habit, or by exercise of The origiu 
any other kind : or whether it is produced in a *^^ happi- 
man by some heavenly dispensation, or even by 
chance. Now, if there is any other thing which is 2. 
the gift of God to men, it is reasonable to suppose A divine 
that happiness is a divine gift, and more than any- &^^ 
thing else, inasmuch as it is the best of human 
things. But this, perhaps, would more fitly belong 
to another kind of investigation : but, even if it be 
not sent from heaven, but is acquired by means of 
virtue, and of some kind of teaching or exercise, it 
appears to be one of the most divine of things ; 
for the prize and end of virtue seems to be some- 
thing which is best, godlike, and blessed. It must 3, 
also be common to many ; for it is possible, that by Commou to 
means of some teaching and care, it should exist in ™any. 
every person who is not incapacitated for virtue. 
But if it is better that people should be happy by 4. 
these means, than by chance, it is reasonable to Chance not 
suppose it is so, since natural productions are pro- the cause 
iuced in the best wav in which it is possib'e for ° .*^^*" 


22 ARISTOTLE'S [book i. 

them to be produced ; and likewise tte productions 
of art, and oi every efficient cause, and especially of 
the best cause. But to commit the greatest and 
the noblest of things to chance would be very 

5. inconsistent. Now the thing we are at present in 
search of receives additional clearness from the 
definition ; for happiness has been said to be a kind 
of energy of the sold according to virtue ; but of 
the remaining goods it is necessary that some exist 
in it, and that others shoidd be naturally assistant 

6. and useful, instrumentally. But this will agree 
with what we stated in the beginning ; fi>r we set 
down the end of the political science as the good ; 
and this devotes its principal attention to form the 
characters of the citizens, to make them good, and 
dispose them to honourable actions. 

7. It is with reason, then, that we do not call an ox, 
'Brutes ^ horse, or any other beast, . happy ; for none of 
be^cfdled them are able to participate in this kind of energy, 
happy. For this cause, also, a child cannot be called happy ; 
Nor chil- for from his time of life he is not yet able to perform 
dren, ex- g^icji actions; but those who are so called, are 
nntvfnA"* callcd happy from hope ; for, as we said, there is 

8. changes of life are numerous, and the accidents of 
Why piop fortune various ; and it is possible for the man in 
'^dd *d^ *^ the enjoyment of the greatest prosperity to become 

involved in great calamities in the time of his old 
age, as is related in the story of Priam, in the 
Qiad ; and no man will call him happy, who has 
experienced siich misfortunes, and died miserably. 



8oion*9 Opinion discussed. Th^ relation ofe£iematptosfi»iif 

to Happiness, 

1. Abe we, then, to call no other man happy as long 

Solon's as he lives, but is it necessaiy, as Solon saya^ to look 


to the end 1^ But if we must ]&y down this rule, oousidcn^ 
is he then ha])py when he is dead '] Or is tliis alto- *^ ^'^^ 
gether absurd, especiallv" in us who assert happiness 2. 
to be a kii^d^of^iergy ] But if we do not call the 
(lead man happy, and even Solon does not mean 
this, but that a person might then securely call a 
man happy, as beyond the reach of evils and misfor- 
tunes, even this assertion admits of some dispute. 
For if there is some good and evil to the man who is 3. 
alive, and who is not aware of it, there may be sup- 
posed to be some to the dead man also, as honours 
and dishonours, and the good and evil fortunes of 
children and descendants generally. But this too 4« 
occasions some difficulty ; Lr when a man has lived 
happily till his old age, and has died in the same 
manner, it is possible that various changes may 
happen to his descendants, and tl^t some of them 

^ The story of Solon and Croesus is too well known to ren- 
der it necessary to do more than refer the reader to Herod, 
book i. c. 32. 

What the opinion of Aristotle was respecting the condition 
of the soul after death is difficult to deter.nnine, even from his 
treatise De Anima ; and still more so from the brief and inci- 
dental way in which he introduces the subject in this book, and 
in Book III. c. vi. In fact, in both places he appears to 
assume the views popularly held, those vague and undefined 
instincts which dictated such passages as — 

CiffTt Tt^ TiBvriKOTl 

Tifidg TrpotTCLTTTtiVy CI TiQ i(TT Iku X^jOtff. 

Soph. Electr. 348, 

ind to reason on them without entering into the question of 
their truth or falsehood. It is evident that there is a vast 
difference between a belief in the immortality of the soul, and 
a belief in the permanence of its personal identity hereafter. 
The former doctrine could scarcely be denied by the philoso- 
pher who held that the human soul was ** particuU divins 
«nim«6 ;" but as after death it might be reunited to the essence 
of which it had been previously a part, it was quite possfibte 
to hold such a belief, and yet to have no personal interest in 
a future state. 

On the whoib subject of the opinions of ancient philosophers 
rejecting the condition of the soul after death, see a most able 
note* to Lecture III. of Humphrey's Hulsean Lectures for 
1849 ; and on the particular views of Aristotle, see also Arcb 
bishop What elcy*g^ Ji'ecaUarities of the Christian ReUgiou* 

U ARISTOTLE'S [book i. 

filiould be good, and enjoy a life according to tlioir 
deserts, while others obtain the contrary one : b\it 
it is clearly possible for them, taking into consider 
ation the distance of time, to stand in every imagin-. 
able relation towards their parents. Now it would 
be absurd, if the deml man were to participate in 
theii" changes, and be at one time happy, and thou 
again miserable ; and it would also be absurd, that 
the fortimes of children shoidd not, in any instance, 
or at any time, reach to and affect the parents. 

5. But we must return to the doubt originally started ; 
fhis opi- for perhaps from its solution the present question 
iiion shown naight receive elucidation. Now, if it is necessary to 

aos^u-d ^*^^ ^ *^® ®^^» ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^ every man happy, not 
because he is, but because he has been, happy, how 
can it be otherwise tliau absurd, ij^ when he i» 
happy, the thing which really exists in him shall be 
imable to be truly said of him, because we do not 
choose to call living men happy on a<x;ount of the 
changes of life, and because we have in our minds 
conceived happiness to be something pg^maufint, 
and by no means easily admitting of change, and 
because good and evil fortune come frequently 
roimd to the same persons 1 for it is clear, that if 
we constantly attend to the chances of fortune, we 
shall frequently call the same man at one time 
happy, and at another miserable, exhibiting the 
happy man as a kind of chameleon, and as placed 
upon an insecure foundation. 

6. Or is this following of the accidents of for- 
External time in no way right? for goodness and badness 
goods not (Jo not depend upon these, but human life, as 
r*r^w ^ we said, stands in need of external goods a& 

additions ; but viiijuous energies are. the essen- 
tial constituents of happiness, and the contrary 

7. energies of the contrary to happiness. But the 
question we have just started bears testimony to 
the definition ; for stability does not exist in any 

The ener- human thing so much as in virtuous energies ; foi 
gjes of these seem to be moi*e j)ermanent even than tlio 
rcrmanent! sciences, and the most honourable of these are like* 


wise the most stable, because happy Dion most fre- 
quently and most constantly j)ass their lives in 
them ; for this seems to be the reason why there is 
no forgetftilness of them. Therefore, the thing 
whichjwe are in search of will exist hx the happy 
man, and throughout his I3e he will be of this 
character ; for he always, or most of all men, will 
live in the practice and contemplation of virtuous 
actions, and he will bear the accidents of fortune 
most nobly, and in every case, and altogether suit- 
ably, as a man^in reality good, and a faultless cube.^ 
But since the accidents of fortune are numerous, g. 
and differ in greatness and smallness, small instances Ho^farthj 
of good fortune, and likewise of the opposite, clearly accident* 
will not influence the balance of life ; but great and °^^°j'^'^^® 
numerous accidents, if on the side of good fortime, happiness. 
"mil make life more happy, for they naturally unite 
in giving additional embellishment, and the use of 
them becomes honourable and good ; but if they 
happen on the other side, they crush and spoil the 
liappiness ; for they bring on sorrows, and are impe- 
diments to many energies. But nevertheless, even 9. 
in these, the honourable is conspicuous, whenever 
a man bears with equanimity many and great mis- 
fortunes, not from ii\sensibility, but because he is 
high-spirited and magnanimoua. 

But if the energies are the essential constituents 10. 
^ of the happiness or the misery of life, as we said, 
X lifijtiappy man can ever become miserable ; for he 
will never do hatefiil and wortl Jess actions ; for we 
conceive that the man who is in reality good and 
vnae, bearajBYftry accident of fortune in a becoming 
manner, and^ always acts in the most honourable 
manner that the circumstances admit of, just as the 
good general makes the most skilful use of the army 
he has, and the good shoemaker of the skins that 
are given him makes the most elegant shoe, and all 

. * A good man is compared to a cube, as being the emblem 
of perfection: "AfA^ yap rsXncu — Arist. Rhet. iii. II. 
Similarly Horace says ** in seipso totus, teres, ataue rotundas.*' 
Sernn. ii. 7. 

26 ARISTOTLE'S I hook i. 

11. other artificers in the same manner. But if this is 
Mt(r;rd ^he case, the happy man can never become miser- 

Jlmil wn *^^® > y®* ^® ^^^^ ^^* ^® perfectly blessed, if he 
make a were to be involved in calamities like Piiam's. 
man mise- Not that for this reason ho is variable, or easily 
rable. liable to change ; for he will neither be moved 

„ . • from his happiness easily, nor by common misfor- 
not vari- tunes, but only by great and numerous ones ; and 
ble. after these, he cannot become happy again in a 

short time : but if he does at all, it will be after 
the lapse of some long and perfect period of time, 
having in the course of it successfully attained to 
[3. great and honourable things. What then hinders 
us from calling that man happy, wha-_fiagr|^a 
according to perfect virtue, and is sufficiently fur- 
nished^ with external goods, and that not for a short 
time, but for the full period of his life 1 or must we 
add, that he is to go on living in the same manner, 
and die accordingly I since the future is to us invi- 
sible. But happiness we set down as in every way 
14, and altogether the end, and perfect. But if this be 
A man true, we shall call those men blessed amongst the 
must be living, in whom the things we liave mentioned 
bSsed onl ^^^f ^^^ '^^^ continue to exist, but only blessed 
as a man. ^ TO[^en. And let these subjects have been thiu 
far defined. 


Thai the Good or Ill'forlune of Descendants and Friends 
contributes somewhat to Happiness, and the nverse. 

1. But it appears a very unMendly idea^ and one 
Whether contrary to universal opinion, to suppose that the 
aff t I ^^^^^fs of descendants and Mends do not in the 
'byi;fae^or. sinalie||^degree affect the dead man. But since ike 
times of accidents df fortiuie that occur are numerous, and 
the living. 

* iKavtuQ Ktxopriyrifievovt literally sufficiently equipped to 
act his part on the stage of human life ; one duty of fiie 
XoptiySg being to dress the characters suitably to their puts. 


ilifFer in various ways, and some of theza come more 
home, and others less, it seems to be a tedious and 
entUess task to discuss them individually ; but per- 
haps it would be sufficient if what we say were said 
generally and in outline, o 

If, then, as in the case'^of misfortunes occuning 2. 
to one's self, some have weight and influence in life, 
while others appear lighter j the same exactly is the 
case with those which happen to all our friends. V 
But it makes a great diflerence whether each mis- 3. 
fortune happen to living or to dead persons ; much Illustrated 
greater difference than it makes in a tragedy,y ^^^^ Greek 
whether atrocious and horrible crimes are supposed "^^ ^ * 
to have been committed previously, or form part of 
the action of the play. We may then, in this way, 4. 
come to a conclusion respecting the extent of this 
difference ; or rather, perhaps, respecting the answer 
to the question about the dead, and their participa- 
tion in good and its opposites ; for it appears fix)m 
these observations, that, even if_anythiiig reaches 
them, whether good or evil, H must be weak and 
small, either absolutely, or relatively to them ; or, if 
not this, it must be of such extent and description as 
not to make those happy who are not already happy, 
nor to deprive those who are happy of their happi- 
ness. Therefore the good fortune of their Mends 5. 
seems in some degree to affect the dead, and in like 
manner their ill fortimes ; but only in such a man- 
ner and to such an extent as neither to make the 
happy unhappy, nor to do anything else of this 

7 In the prologues of many Greek tragedies, previous 
events are related, which form part of the plot without forming 
part of the action of the drama. To these the words of Honu;* 
irill apply : — 

" S^^ns irritant animos demissa per aures, 

Quan ifam sunt oculis suhjecta fidelibus. '— 'A. P. 181* 
See on this subject Cic. le Sen. xxiii. 



- other artificers in the Eame maimer. But if this is 
tlie case, the happy man can never become miger- 
iible ; yet he would not be perfectly blessed, if he 
were to be involved in caiamitica like Friam's. I 
Sot that for this I'cason he fit variable, or eaaly I 
liable to change j for he ■will neither be moved | 

' from his happiness easily, nor by commi 
tunoa, but only by great and mmierous ones ; and | 
after these, ho cannot become happy a 
short time ; but if he does at all, it ^vill be after I 
the lapse of some long and perfect period of tim^;V 
having in the course of it snccessfully attiuned toil 

. great ajid honourable things. What then hindenfl 
ua from calling that man happy, wlio__aBsS! 
according to ]>erfect virtue, and is sufficiently fi 
nished* with external goods, and that not fc 
time, but for the fiill period of Lis life t or must yt 
add, that he is to go on living in the sami 
and die accordingly t since the luture is to us iii'n-S 
sible. But happiness we set down as in every wBjrl 
and altogether the end, and peifect. But if this b 
true, we sliall call those men blessed amongst t' 
living, in whom the things wo have mention 
exist, and will continue to exist, but only blew 
as men. And let these subjects have been tbt 
£u: defined. 

1. But it appears a very imliieudly idea, np"* "■ 
Wbellitr contrary to univei-snl opinion, to suppos" 
"" Iffectf.I f"*^"?^ °^ descendants and fiianda -^ 
Wthe^Jo". smalie^degree affect the dead mas' 
tuuc< of '" accidents Of fortmie tliat occur A' 
the living. 

set his part an the atagt of br 
fPiy ^t bluing to Jreaa llie -*■ 

28 ARISTOTT F/S [book 


nat Hofipmeu beongt to the elan of things Honourable^ and 

not of things Praised. 

I. These points being determined, let us next consider 

Happiness happiness, whether it be one of things praised or 

"?^ * rather of things honourable : for it is clear that it is 

not one of the fiumlties. Now, everything that is 

y^ ^ ^.' praised seems to be pi'aised because it is of a certain 

beloneto * character, and has a certain relation to something ; 

iiraivfTj. for we piuL^ the just man, and the brave man, anil 

the good man generally, and virtue, on account of 

their works and actions ; and the strong man, and 

the good runner, and every one else whom we praise, 

l^ecause he naturally is of a certain character, and 

has a certain relation to something that is good and 


3. But this is clear from the praises that are given 
to the gods; for they appear ridiculous when re- 
ferred to us ; but this happens because praises are 
bestowed relatively to some standard, as we said. 
But if pi-alse belongs to things of this kind, it is 
clear that it does not belong to the best things, but 
something greater and better is bestowed upon 
them, as also seems to be the case : for we predicate 
blessedness' and happiness of the gods, and of the 
most godlike of men; and likewise of the most 
godlike of goods ; for no man praises happiness as 
he would justice, but calls it blessed, as being some- 
thing more divine and excellent. 

4. But Eudoxus also appears to have pleaded well for 
Aristotle the claim of pleasure to the highest place ; for he 
»^rees thought that its not being praised, when it was one 
Eudoxus. ^^ *^® goods, proved it to be superior to all things 

praised ; but Grod and the highest good are of this 

* The term fiaKapioQt m Latin " beatus,*' applies to per- 
fect happiness ; hence, in both the Greek and Latin churches* 
these words have been used to express the happiness of the 
saints ; e, g.^ 6 uaKiipiog UavXbCf Beata Tirgo, &c. ; whereas, 
tifSaifiuv (felix) applies to such happiness as it is possible fo» 
A iportal to attain to. 


kind, for everything else ia referred to these; for 
praise is of virtue, for from this men are ahle to 
perform honourable actions ; but encomiums are of 
works, as well bodily as mental But to discuss 5. 
these matters with exactness belongs perhaps more 
properly to those who study encomiums; but for 
our purpose it is clear, from what has been said, tliat 
happiness is one of things honourable and perfect. 
And this seems to be the case, from its being a 
principle ; for, for the sake of this all of us do every- 
thing else; but we assume the principle and the 
cause of goods to be something honourable and 


Concerning the Divisions of the Soulf and concerning_Viriue. 

\ But mnce happin ess^is^^extaiB^energy of the sp ul i. 
accordingTo perfect virtue, we must next consider Reasoni 
the subject of virtue ; for thus, perhaps, we should '^^y ^« 
see more clearly respecting happiness. But he who ™?*' ^^' 
in reality is skilled in political philosophy, appears t^g. 
to devote the principal part of his study to tliis ; for 2. 
he wishes to make the citizens good and obedient 
to the laws ; but we have an example of this in the 
legislators of the Cretans and Lacedaemonians, and 
any others who may have become Kke them. But if 
this is the peculiar study of political philosophy, it 
is clear that the investigation would be consistent 
with our original plan. 

We must therefore next examine virtue, that 3. 
is to say, of course, human virtue ; for the Why hu- 
good which we were in search of is human good, °^*^ virtue 
and the happiness, human happiness ; but by 
human happiness we I^ean, not that of the body, 
but that of the joul-; and happiness, too, we de- 
fine to be an energy of the souL But if these 4. 
things are true, it is evidently necessary for the And wny 
political philosopher to have some knowled£:e of ^^^^J**"^*, 
what lelatM to the soul ; just as it is necessanr *b7 

30 ARISTOTLE'S [iiooi i. 

the man who intends to cure the eyes, to study the 
whole body ; and sti^l more, in proporticai as poli- 
tical philosophy is more honourable and excellent 
than the science of medicine j and the best educated 
physicians take a great deal of pains in acquiring a 
knowledge of the human body. 

5. The student of political philosophy must therefore 
The foul study the soul, but he must study it for the sake oi 
considered, ^j^gge things, and only so far as is sufficient for the 

objects which he has in view; for greater exactness 
requires more labour perhaps thati the subject in 

6. hand demands. But some things are said about it 
Its divi- sufficiently in my exoteric discourses ; and these we 
sions. must make use of : as, fbr instance, that one part of 
tvov^ it is irrational, and the other possessing reason. But 
'AXoyov. whether these things are really separate, like the 

members of the body, and everything that is capa- 
ble of division ; or whether, being by nature indi • 
visible, they are only in word two, as in a circum- 
ference the convex and concave side, matters not 
for our present pui-pose. 

7. But of the irrational part, one division is like 
• AXoyov ^ that which is coi^Sbh, and belonging to plants ; 
subdivided ; that, I mean, which is the cause of nourishment 
^° I and growth : for a person might assert that such a 
vegetative, faculty of life as this exists in all beings that are 

nourished, even in embiyos, and the very same in 
perfect beings : for it is more reasonable to call it 

8. the same than any other. The excellence of this 
Virtue docs part, therefore, appears common to other beings, 
not belong ^nd not peculiar to man ; for this part of the soul, 

and its faculties, seem to energize principally in 
sleep ; but the good and the bad man are in sleep 
least distinguishable ; whence men say, that for 
half their lives there is no difference between the 

9. happy and the miserable. But it is reasonable that 
this should be the case ; for sleep is the . inaction of 
the soul, so far forth as it is called good or bad : 
except if some emotions in a small degree reach 
it, and in this maimer the visions of good men 
become better than those of the .jeneralifcy. But 


enougli of tliese tilings ; wq must therefore put aside 
tlie part wMch consists in nocsrislinient, since it 
has naturally no connection with human virtue. 

Now another natural power of the soul appears lo. 
to be irrational, but to participate in reason in some Theappe- 
sort ; for we praise the reason of the continent and ^itive hasa 
incontinent man, and that part oi the soul which is submitting' 
endued witb ireason j for it exhorts us aright, and to reason, 
to the best actions. But there seems to be in man and a ten- 
something else by nature contrary to reason, which ^ency to 
coutends with and reakts reason. For. in reality, ^* »"•»«" 
just as the paralyzed limbs of the body, when we n. 
intend to move them to the right hand, are turned 
aside the opposite way to the left, so it is with 
the soul ; for the impulses of the incontinent are 
directed towards the contraries. But in the case of 
the body we see the part that is turned aside, in the 
soul we do not see it ; but perhaps we must no less 
believe that there is in the soul something contrary 
to reason, which opposes and resists it ; but how it 
differs it matters not. But this part also seems, as 12. 
we said, to partake of reason ; at least in the con- 
tinent man it obeys reason ; but in the temperate or 
brave man it is perhaps still more ready to listen to 
reason : for in iJiem it entirely agrees with reason. 

The irrational part therefore appears to be two- 13. 
fold ; for the part which is common to plants does not 
at all partake of reason ; but the part which contains 
the desires and the appetites generally in some sense 
partakes of reason, in that it is submissive and obe- 
dient to it. Thus, in fact, we say that a man has 
regard for his father and friends, but not in the same 
sense in which we use the expression \6yoy e'x^tK in 
mathematics.** But the giving of advice, and all J^* 
reproaching and exhorting, prove that the irrational pe^itive^ 
part is in some sense persuaded by reason. But if belongs to 
it is necessary to say that this has reason likewise, the \6you 
the part which has reason will be twofold also ; one ^x^i^j 

•• There is an ambiguity in the original which does not 
exist in the translation, as X(fyov ^x^''' means, (1) to pay regard 
to, (2) to bear a ratio to, in the mathematical sense. 

82 ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [book i. 

15. part properly and in jfcself. the other as though lis- 
divitton is tening to the suggestions of a parent.^^ 
requisi e. -g^^ virtue also is divided according to this 

difference j for we caJi some of the virtues intellec- 
tual, others nioral — ^wisdom, and intelligence, and 
])rudence, we call intellectual, but liberality and 
temperance, moral ; for when speaking of the moral 
character of a man, we do not say that he is wise 
or intelligent, but that he is meek or tempierate ; 
but we piuise the wise man also according to hia 
habits ; but praiseworthy habits we call virtues. 

bb The soul is considered by Aristotle as the only cause and 
principle of all the phenomena of physical and intellectual life. 
^I'Xfl therefore includes *' animus ** and ** anima." His divi- 
sion of ^I'xn ^^y he explained by the two following tablra : — 


' ''X X. '- 

^VTIKOV IwiOvfitlTlKbv ICat hpiKTlKOV 

fiSTExov fikvTOi Try \6yov, 
rtf Xoyy TTtiOov Ttf \6y*ft avTiTUv^t 




fie/Di/f aXoyov \oyov tvop 


^VTiKOv rf koytft ivTirfivov, rf Xoyy irtlOov, \6yot 


KOI i» 

The second table must be adopted if the rational part is tn»- 



CHAP. I. ^ 

How Virtue is produced f and tncreaseH. 

Virtue being twofold, one part intellectual and l. 
the other moral, intellectual virtue has its origin ^®°'*8^ 
and increase for the most part from teaching;' there- ^inJ^iT^ 
\|fore it stands in need of experience and time ; but lectual and 
moral virtue arises from habit, whence also it has moral vir- 
got its name, which is only in a small degree altered ***^' 
I from £0oc.* Whence it is also clear, that not one 
i of the moral virtues springs up in us by nature, for 2. 
none of those things which exist by nature expe- ^^°^.*^ ^ 
rience alteration frx>m habit ; for instance, the stone innate. 
which by nature goes downwards could never be /^ \ gg, 
accustomed to go upwards, not even if one should cause it can 
attempt ten thousand times, by throwing it up, to be altered, 
give it this habit ; nor could fire be accustomed to 
bum downwards; nor could anything else which 
has one natural bent get another different one from 
habit. The virtues, then, are produced in us neither 3. 
by nature nor contrary to nature, but, we being 

* ADglice << habit." ''E.Boq is the result of the accmnulation 
of habits, t. e. character. Plato taught that the moral virtues 
were not generated in us either by nature or by learning, but 
were divinely bestowed. The Stoics rejected the twofold divi- 
sion of the soul and of virtue, mentioned in Book I., and 
asserted that they were all sciences. Hence Cicero says (de 
Off. lib. iii.), temperaniia eat tcieniia. They believed, how- 
ever, that the virtues were acquired ; for that there were 
innate in us certain common ideas (Koivai ivvoiai)^ cer- 
tain " seeds of virtue,'' and *' lights of nature,'' which could 
be cultivated and brought to perfection. Aristotle, on the 
otker band, denied the existence of innate ideas, and com- 
fMtfipd the fonl to a blank tablet, on which nothing was in* 
ichbed except rb wifvKbs, t. e. natural inclination. 


r4 ARISTOTLE'S [book it 

natanlly adapted to leceiTe them, and this natui-a] 

4. CMipmdty is perfected by babit. Further, in every 
f2.) Be- case where anything is prodaced in ns naturally, 
nose we y^^ fifg^ get the capaoitiesfor doing these things, and 
^^i*?^ afterwards pedEwm the energies ; which is evident 
grst. ^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^ ^^ senses ; for it was not from fre- 
quently seeing or frequently hearing that we got 
the senses, but^ cm the contrary, we had them first, 
and then used them, and did not get them by 
having used them. But we get the v^ues by 
having first performed the energies, as is the case also 
in all the other arts ; for those things which we 
must do after having learnt them we learn to do by 
doing them ; as^ lor example, by building houses men 
become builders, and by joying on the harp, harp- 
players ; thu% alao^ by doing just actions we become 
just^ by performing temperate actions, temperate, 
and by performing brave actions we become brave. 

5. Moreover, that which happens in all states bears 
Te^imony testimony to this ; for l^dators, by giving their 
iatore^' citizens good habits, make them good ; and this is 

the intention of every lawgiver, and all that do 
not do it well &il ; and this makes all the differ- 
ence between states, whether th^ be good or bad. 

6. Again, every virtue is produced and corrupted 
Virtue and f^QOi and by means of the same causes ;^ and in 
from'S^ like manner every art; for from playing on the 
fame cause. ^^^^ people become both good and bad harp- 
players ; and, analogously, builders and all the 
rest ; for from buildmg well men will become good 
biiilders, and from building badly bad ones ; for if 
this were not the case, there would be no need of 
a person to teach, and all would have been by 

7. birth, some good and some bad. The same holds 
good in the case of the virtues also ; for by per- 
forming those actions which occur in oxa inter- 

^ Actions produce contrary moral effects. Two men en- 
gaged in the same pursuits, exposed to the same temptations, 
may become, the one virtuous, the other yidous. In Uie 
order of nature, causes act uniformly, they cannot prodoce 
opposite effects ; therefore, Tirtae does not come by nature. 

CHAP, n.] ETHICS. Sft 

coarse with other men^ some of us become jnst and 
some tmjust ; and by acting in circumstances of 
danger, and being accustomed to be fearM or con- 
fident, some become brave and others cowards. The g^ 
same thing is true in cases of desire and anger j for 
some become temperate and mild, and others in- 
temperate and passionate — one class from haying 
behaved themselves in such cases in one way, and 
the other class in another. In a word, the habits are 9. 
produced out of similar energies; therefore, the ener- Import 'j 
gies which we perform must be of a certain cha- ^ ®*^\y ' 
racter ; for, with the differences of the energies the ^*^^*"®"« 
habits correspond. It does not therefore make a 
slight, but an important, nay, rather, the whole 
difference, whether we have been brought up in 
these habits or in others from childhood. 

CHAP. n. 

That Sxcen and Drfect destroy VtrtuCf but that being in 

the mean preserves it, 

SmcR our present treatise is not for the purpose 1. 
of mere speculation, as all others are, for the object Why ae. 
of our investigation is not the knowing what *»<>"« ™** 
\'irtue is, but to become good (since otherwise j -!Jf^*' 
there would be no use in it), it is necessary to 
study the subject of actions, and how we must 
perform them; for these have entire influence 
over our habits to cause them to become of a 
certain character, as we have said. Now, to say 2. 
that we must act according to right reason is a Ezplana- 
general maxim, and let it be assumed ; but we ^°^ ^( ^P' 
will speak hereafter about it, and about the ^iiSmssed^ 
nature of right reason, and its relation to the for the 
other virtues.^ But this point must first be present, 
fully granted, that everything said on moral sub- 3. 

* Aristoile discusses the sature of right reason (6p96g 
i^oc) in the sixth book. 


)6 ARISTOTLE'S [book z;. 

jects on^ht to be said in outline, and not with ex* 
ictnessT just as we said iHhe beginning, that 
arguments must be demanded of such a nature 
only as the subject-matter admits ; but the subjects 
of moral conduct and of expediency have no stabi- 

4. lity, just as also things wholesome. But if the 
Ethics do treatment of the subject generally is of this nature, 
of exact- ^^ ^^^ ^*^^ ^^ admit of exactness in particulars ; 
ness. for it comes under no art or set of precepts, but it 

b the duty of the agents themselves to look to the 
drcimistances of the occasion, just as is the case in 
the arts of medicine and navigation. But although 
the subject before us is of this description, yet we 
must endeavour to do the best we can to help it. 

5. This, then, we must first observe, that thmgs of 
Actions this kind are naturally destroyed both by defect 
admit of .y^^ excess (for it is necessary in the case of things 

d^^l ^^^^ <^*^^* be seen to make use of iUustrations 
which can be seen^, just as we see in the case of 
strength and health ; for too much as well as too 
G. little exercise destroys strength. In like manner 
drink and food, whether there be too little or too 
much of them, destroy health, but moderation in 
quantity causes, increases, and preserves it. The 
same thing, therefore, holds good in the case of tem- 
perance, and courage, and the other virtues ;* for he 
I who flies from and is a&aid of everything, and 
I stands up against nothing, becomes a coward ; and 
he who fears nothing at all, but goes boldly at every- 

7, thing, becomes rash. In like^manner, he who in- 
dulges in the enjoyment of every pleasure, andr-re- 

■ frains from none, is intemperate ; but he who ^huns 

: all, as clowns do, becomes a kind of insensible man. 

For temperance and courage are destroyed both by the 

i excess and the defect, but are preserved by the mean. 

8, But not only do the generation, and increase, and 
destruction of these originate in the same sources and 

* This assertion must be limited to the moral virtuoi, of 
*vhich he is now about to treat, as in the intellectual virtiiea 
tiiere can be no excess, it being impossible to cany inteUectual. 
•zcelle:;ce to too high a point. 


through the same means, but the energies also will 9. 
be employed on the same ;^ for this is the case in Energies 
other things which are more plain to be seen ; as ^^^^ habits 
in the case of strength, for it is produced by taking ^^^J^S*" 
much food and sustaining many labours ; and the 
strong man is more able to do these things than 
any other person. The case with the virtues is 
the same ; for by abstaining from pleasures we be- 
come temperate, and when we have become so, we 
are best able to abstain from them. The same also 
is the case with courage ; for by being accustomed 
to despise objects of fear, and to b^r them, we 
become brave, and when we have become so, we 
are best able to bear them. 

CHAP. Ill 

Thai Virtue is concerned with Pleasures and Pains, 

But vte must make the pleasure or pain which fol- 1. 
lows after acts a test of the habits/ for he who Pleasure 
abstains from the bodily pleasures, and in this very *"^ P**** 
thing takes pleasure, is temperate ; but he who feels ^^^ of^our 
pain at it is intemperate ; and he who meets dangers habits. 
and rejoices at it, or at least feels no pain, is brave ; but 
he who feels pain is a coward ; for moral virtue is con- 
versant with pleasures and pains j for by reason of 
pleasure we do what is wicked, and through pain 2, 
we abstain from honourable acts. Therefore it is Importance 
necessary to be in some manner trained imme- of early 
diafcely from our childhood, as Plato says,g to feel c^lu'^a^^wn 

* For example, drcumstances of danger produce, improye, 
and educate courage ; and it is in the same circumstances that 
the energies of the brare man are called forth send exerted. 

' This is another instance of the practical turn of Aristotle's 
mind. We can scarcely have a more useful test. So long as 
any uneasiness or pain is felt at doing any action, we may be 
quite sure that the habit is imperfectly formed. 

' Plato (de Leg. ii.) says, Aiyia roivw rCtv traUuv 
wavSiKijv tlvat w/noriiv atfrOiiviVf rfOoyiqv xai Xvirtiv, 

38 ARISTOTLE'S [book n. 

pleasure and pain sk propei objects ; for this is 
- right education. Again, if the virtues are conver- 
^' sant with actions and passions, and pleasure and 
pain are consequent upon every action and passion , 
on this account, also, virtue must be conversant 
with pleasures and pains. Punishments also, which 

4. are inflicted by means of pleasure and pain, indi- 
cate the same thing ; for they are kinds of reme- 
dies, and remedies naturally wk by contraries. 
Again, as we said before, every habit of the soul 
has a natural relation and reference fco those things 
by which it naturally becomes better and worse. 
But habits become bad by means of pleasures and 
pains, by pursuing or avoiding either improper 
ones, or at improper times, in improper ways, or 
improperly in any other manner, which reason 

5. Hence some have even defined the virtues to be 
Virtue is certain states of apathy and tranquillity ;^ but not 
not iTrd- correctly, in that they speak absolutely, and not in 
^""- relation to propriety of time or manner, and so on 

through the other categories. Therefore virtue is 
supposed to be such as we have said, in relation to 
pleasures and pains, and apt to practise the best 
things; and vice is the contrary. 

6. These subjects may also become plain to us from 
Additional the following considerations. Since there are three 
consider- things which lead us to choice, and three to aver- 
sion, — ^the honourable, the expedient^ and the plea- 
sant ; and three contraries to them, — the disgraceful, 
the inexpedient, and the painful ; on all these sub- 
jects the good man is apt to be right in his actions, 
and the bad man is apt to be wiong^ and especially 
on the subject of pleasure ; for this is common to 
all living creatures, and accompanies all. things 
which, are the objieicts of choice ; .for both the 
honourable and the expedient appear pleasant. 

f. Again, from our in&ncy it has grown up wibh all of 

^ The Cynics, and after them- the Stoics and Epl>careans, 
adopted this theory of virtae ; it is probable that Aristotle ia 
here alluding to it as an opinion held by Socrates.' 



UB ; and therefore it is difficult to nib out tliis afTec- 
tion, whioli is, as it were, engnuiied in our veij e. 
existence. Again, we make pleiisui'e and pain the 
rule of tAsx actions, some of us in a greater, some in 
less degree. For this reason, therefore, it ia neces- 
BB17 that ODT vhole bueineas must be with these 
Bubjects; for, to feel pleasure or pain, properly or 
improperly, makes no slight difference to our ac- 
tions. Again, it is more difficult to resist pleasure g, 
Uuui auger, as Heraclitus says, and both oit and 
excellence are always conversant with that which 
ia more difficult ; for excellence in this case is 
superior. So that, for this reason also, the whole 
brudaesB of virtue, and political philosophy, must 
be with pleasures and pains ; for he who makes a 
proper use of these will be good, and he who makes 
a bad use will be bad. Kow on the point that 10. 
virtue is conversant with pleasures and pains, and Virtue DDd 
that it is increased and destroyed by means of the *"^i '°"' 
aame things iroia which it originally sprung, when ^jy, p]pj_ 
they are difierently circumstanced ; and that its sure niid 
eaer^es are employed on those things out of which piuii. 
.it originates, let enough have been said. 

ITial Mat iteome jvti and lemperaie by per/anumg just 
utul iengierale Actiona, 

ItuT a person may be in difBculty as to what we 1 
aiean when we say that it is necessary for men to K 
become just by performing just actions, "nd tem- J" 
perate by performing temperate ones ;' for if they ^, 
* Tbe elhical itudent of conne nill not fHil to cotunlt on tu 
thia subject Biahup Botler' a Analogy ;. he Kill there obscire not ti 
onlj tbe paralleliam. belneen Ms moral theory and that of 
Arutotle, but slso the important diatinction nhiuh he draws 
betwecD practical liehiCs anJ porsiie impresuoni. " In like 
Binmer," he myi, " as habits betongiog to tbe body u 
J 1 hy esienifll acta, so babils ot ■'■ — ■— ' ■"" 

re prdduced by 

40 ARISTOTLE'S [book ii. 

do just and temperate actions, they are aheady just 
and temperate ; just as, if they do grammatical 
and musical actions, they are grammariaxis and 

2. musicians. Or^ is this not the casein the arts also 1 
Ihi case for it ifl possible to do a grammatical action acci- 
A Iwrta" dentally, or at another's suggestion. A man^ there- 
and the ^^^> '^'^ ^^7 *^®^ ^ * grammarian, when he not 
▼irtues. only does a grammatical action, but also does it 

grammatically, that is, in accordance with the 
grammatical science, which he possesses in himself. 

3. Again, the case is not similar in the arts and iu 
What con- the virtues, for the productions of art have their 
smutes an excellence in themselves. It is enough, then, that 
tuous. ~ these should themselves be of a certain character ; 

but acts of virtue are done justly and temperately^ 

not, if they have themselves a certain character, but 

if the agent, being himself of a <^rtain chaiucter^ 

perform them : first, if he does them knowingly ; 

then if with deliberate choice, and deliberate choice 

on their own account ; and, thirdly, if he does thenx 

. on a fixed and unchangeable principle. Now as to 

In the arts* ^^^ possession of all other arts, these qualification&f, 

mere know.' with the exception of knowledge, do not enter into 

ledge is the calculation ; but towards the possession of the 

sufficient, virtues, knowledge has little or no weight ; but the 

other qualifications are not of small, but rather of 

Just ac infinite importance, since they arise from the fre* 

^w*""*- \ quent practice of just and temperate actions. 

\ 5. Acts then are called just and temperate^ when 
Just man. ^j^gy. ^^ g^^j^ g^ ^he just or temperate man would 

do ; Ijut he who performs these acts is not a just 
and temperate man, but he who performs them in 
such a manner as just and temperate men do 

the exertion of inward practical principles ; i. e. by carryh^ 
tiiem into act, or acting upon them ;--tbe princtples of obe- 
dience, of veracity, justice, and charity. But gomg orer the 
th^ry of virtue in one's thoughts, talking well, and drawing 
fine pictures of it, may harden the mind in a oontraiy ooone, 
and render it gradually more insensible ; t. e. form a habit of 
insensibility to all moral considerations. For from our Yery 
frusulty of habits, passive impresmons, by being repeated, grow 
weaker." — ^Anal. Part I. ch. v 

CHAP, v.] iifHICS. 41 

tliem> Ic is 'Well said, therefore, that from perform- 6. 
ing just actions, a man becomes just ; iind from 
performing temperate ones, temperate ; but with- 
out performing them no person would even be 
likely to become good. But the generality of men 7. 
do not do these things, but taking refiige in words, A commor* 
they think that they are philosophers, and that in ^r^^ ®? 
this manner they will become good men ; and what *^ 
they do is like what sick people do, who listen 
attentively to their physicians, and then do not 
attend to the things which they prescribe. Just as 
these, then, will never be in a good state of body 
under such treatment, so those will never be in 
a good state of mind, if this is their philosophy. 

CHAP. Y. ^ 

What tff the ** Genm " qf Virtue. Thai it ie a Habit, 

But we must next find out what the genus of 1. 
virtue is. Since, then, the qualities which have their In the sox 
origin in the soul are three, — ^Passions, Capacities, ^^^^ "* 
and Habits, — ^Virtue must be some one of these, qualities 
By passions, I mean. Desire, Anger, Fear, Confi- 2. 
dence, Envy, Joy, Love, Hatred, Regret, Emulation, UaOri, 
Pity ; in a word, those feelings which are followed 
by pleasure or pain ; by capacities, those qualities 3. 
by means of which we are said to be able to be Awi/o/ifi;, 
under the influence of these passions ; as those by 
means of which we are able to feel anger, pain, or 
l>ity ; by habits, those by means of which we are 4. 
well or ill disposed with relation to the passions ; "E^eic. 
as with relation to being made angry, if we feel 

^ Cioero, gtring a short analysis of the doctrines of the Old 
Academy and Peripatetics (nihil enim inter Peripateticos et 
illam Teterem Academiam differebat), thus describes their doc- 
trine of moral Yirtne : — '* Momm autem putabaot stadia esse 
et fOMl eonsaetudinem (tOoc) : quam partim ezercitationis 
asaidnitate, partim ratione formabant ; in quibus erat philoso- 
phia ipsa. In qua quod inchoatum est neque absolutum pro- 
•greuAo quaedam ad virtutem appellatur : quod autem absolutum, 
id est yirtnti quasi perfectio naturae." — ^Acad. i. 5. Brewer, 

42 ARISTOTLE'S [book it. 

anger too fi^hemently or too remissly, we are ill 

disposed ; if we do it moderately, well disposed ; 

and in like mamier with relation to the others. 

5. Neither the vuiiues, therefore, nor the vices are 

WhyTjr- passions: because we aro not odled good or bad 

t^ce**^ according to our passions, but according to oui- 

not -TrdOij, virtues or vices, and because we are neither praised 

nor blamed according to our passions (for the man 

who fears or is angry, is not praised ; nor is the 

man who is simply angry, blamed; but the man who 

is angry in a certain way) ; but according to our 

^* virtues and vices, we are praised or blamed. Again, 

we feel anger and fear without deliberate preference ; 

but the virtues ^riei acts of deliberate preference, or 

at any rate, not without deliberate preference. But 

besides these things, we are said to be "moved** 

by our passions, but we are not said to be moved, 

but in some way to be " disposed," ^ by our virtues 

7. and vices. . For these reasons, also, they are not 
^^^, capacities ; for we are neither called good ?ior bad, 

vvafiH£, neither praised nor blamed, for our being able to 
feel passionb simply. And again, we have our 
capacities by nature ; but we do not become good 
or bad by nature; but of this we have already 

8. spoken. If, then, the virtues are neither passions 
Virtue is j^or capacities, it remains tha,t they are habits. 

**^' What, therefore, the " genus" of virtue is, has be«n 

sufficiently shown. 

» Aristotle (Categ. c. vi. 4) thus explains the difference 
between disposition (didOetrtc) and habit (e^tfi) : — " Habit is 
more lasting and more durable than disposition. The formeir 
term applies to the sciences, virtues, &c. ; the latter to such 
states as are easily and quickly changed ; as heat and cold, sick- 
ness and health.'' This verbal argument is an indication of 
the importance which the Aristotelian philosophy attaches to 
language. Verbal arguments are seldom v6ry cpndnshr^, but 
as doubtless words are the signs of things and id^as, there 
are instanoes, like the present, in whidi sueh arguments m of 
some value. The definition of terms was Aristotle's passion. 

The following is, according to Aspasius, quoted by MIcMet, 
the Delation between SvvafiiQy ivipysta, and Hie» . " JFhenltes a 
naturd inrita jam est potentia quiedam, sed nondum vobis, nk 
loquimur, potentia, cujus ex ipsovigore aperoHo proftoati 
hano demum potentiam pbilosophus habiinm vocat." 

SHAP Kir» ?THICS. u 


That Virtue is a mean state, ani how it it fo. 

But it is necessary not only to say that virtue is a 1. 
habit, but also what sort of a habit it is. "We aiust ^^^^ ^^ C» 
say, therefore, that every virtue ™ both makes that 
of which it is the virtue to be in a good state, and 
makes its work good also ; for instance, the virtue, 
of the eye makes both the eye and the work of the 
eye good ; for by the virtue of the eye we see well. 
In like manner, the virtue of a horse makes a horse 2. 
good, and good in speed, and in carrying iti^ rider, 
and in standing the attack of the enemy. If, then, 
this is the case in all instances, the virtue of man 
also must be a habit, from which man becomes 
good, and from which he will perform his work well. 
But how this will be, we have already stated.^ And 3. 
again, it will be made manifest in the following J^ ®^®7" 
manner, if we investigate the specific nature of jg ^ ^can 
virtue. Now, in all quantity, continuous or divi- (/xleroi/.) 
abl^, it is possible to take the greater, the less, or 
the equal ; and these either with rehition to the 
thing itself or to ourselves ; but the equal is some 4. 
mean between excess and defect. But by the mean This is 
with relation to the thing itself, I mean that which twofold* 
is equidistant from both of the extremes, and this 1. ToD 
is one and the same in all cases ; but by the mean, 'rpdyua- 
with relation to ourselves, I mean that which is J^tgV* ^ ' 
neither too much nor too little for us. But this 9 n a 
is not one and the same to all ; as, for example, if ,)ua/(rel» 
ten is too many, and two too few, six is taken for tive). 
the absolute mean, for it exceeds two as much as it 
is exceeded by ten. But this is the mean according 5. 
to arithmetical proportion. But the relative mean 

" The word dpiTij means not only moral virtue but tha 
excellence and perfection of anything whatever. Thus Cicero 
says (de Leg. L 8.) : '* "Est autem virtus nihil aliud quam in M 
perfecta et ad summum perducta natura.'' 

" See Book II. ch. ii. 

44 ARISTOTLE'S [book ii 

is not to be taken in this manner ; for it does not 
follow, that if ten pounds are too much for any per- 
son to eat, and two pounds too little, the training- 
master will prescribe six pounds ; for perhaps this 
is too much or too little for the person who is to 
eat it. For it is too little for Milo,*^ but too much 
for one just commencing gymnastics ; and the case 
is similar in running and wi*estling. Thus, then, 
Virtue every person who has knowledge shuns the excess 
Bceks the j^^^ ^j^g defect, but seeks for the mean, and chooses 
mean. ^* > ^^* *^® absolute mean, but the relative one. 

6. If, then, every science accomplishes its work 
Why virtue well, by keeping the mean in view, and directing 
consists in j^g -^orks to it (whence people are accustomed to 
a mean. ^£ excellent "works, that it is impossible to take 

anVthingaway,oradl^ythingtoth^ since excess 
and defect destroy the excellence, but the beins in 
the mean preser4 it), and if g^d artisans, as we 
may say, perform their work, keeping this in view, 
then virtue, being, like nature, more a<!curate and 
excellent than any art, must be apt to hit the 
7* mean. But I mean moral virtue ; for it is con- 
versant with passions and actions ; and in these 
there is defect and excess, and the mean ; as, for 
example, we may feel fear, confidence, desire, anger, 
pity, and, in a word, pleasure and pain, both too 
much and too little, aaid in both cases improperly. 
But the time when, and the cases in which, and 
the persons towards whom, and the motive for 
which, and the manner in which, constitate tbo 
mean and the excellence : and this is the character- 
istic property of wtae. 
8. In like manner, in actions there are excess and 
defect, and the mean; but virtue is convei«taut 
with passions and actions, and in them excels is 
wrong, and defect is blamed, but the mean is praised^ 
and is correct ; and both these are properties oi 

* The story of Milo is well known : — 

** Remember Milo's end. 
Wedged in the timbers which he strove to rend." 



virtue. Virtue, then, is a kind of mean state, being 
at leajst apt to hit the mean. Again, it is pos- 9, 
wble to go wrong in many ways (for evil, as the To hit th« 
Pythagoreans csonjectured, is of the nature of the "l^'^n is 
infinite, but good of the finite P) ; but we can go ^*^<^"^^' 
right in one way only ; and for this reason the 
former is easy, and the latter difficult ; it is easy to 
miss a mark, but difficult to hit it ; and for these, 
reasons, therefore, the excess and defect belong to 
vice, but the mean state to virtue; for, "we are 
good in one way only, but bad in all sorts of 

Virtue, therefore, is a " habit, accompanied with 10. 
deliberate preference, in the relative mean, defined pj^"®, 
by reason, and as the prudent man would define 
it." It is a mean state between two vices, one 
in excess, the other in defect ; and it is so, more- 
over, because of the vices one division falls short 
of, and the other exceeds what is right, both in 
passions and actions, whilst virtue drovers the 
mean and chooses it. Therefore, with reference n. 
to its essence, and the definition which states its Virtue is 
substance,^ virtue is a mean state ; but with re- *^° "^ 
ference to the standard of "the best" and "the ^^^^l > 
excellent," it is an extreme. But it is not every ^ ^ * -^ 
ax^on, nor every passion, which admits of the ^2. 
mean state ; for some have their badness at once 
implied in their name ; as, for example, malevolence, 
shamelessiiess, envy ; and amongst actions, adulter}^, 
theft, homicide. For all these, and such as these, 
are so called from their being themselves bad, not 
because their excesses or defects are bad. In these, 
then, it is impossible ever to be right, but we must 13. 
always be wrong. Nor does the right or wrong in 
such cases as these depend at ail upon the person 
with whom, or the time when, or the manner in 

p See the co-ordinate catalogue of goods adopted by tlie 
rytbs^oreans, given p. 11. 

4 llbie original expression, here translated ** substance/' is 
ro ri i^ tlvat' literally, <<the being what it is.'' This is 
equivalent to " substance or essential nature." 

46 ARISTOTLtr/S [book ir 

wMch^ adaltery is committed ; but abaolutely tho 
doing of any one of these things is "WTong. . It 
vould be equally absurd, then, to require a mear« 
state, and an excess, and a defect, in injustice, and 
cowardice, and intemperance. For thus there would 
14. be a mean state of excess and defect, and an excess 
of excess^ and a defect of defect. But just as thcie 
is no excess and defect of temperance and courage 
(owing to the &ct that the mean is in some sense 
an extreme), so neither in the case of these u 
there a mean state^ excess, or defect ; but howeyer 
they be done, sin is committed. For, in a word, 
there is neither a mean state of excess and ddfect, 
nor an excess and defect of a mean state. 

An Enumeration of Mean Habiit, 

1. But it is necessary that this should not only be 
An indoc- stated generally, but that it should also be applicable 
^^^^, to the particular cases ; for in discussions on subjects 
mtues, to ^^ mond action, universal statements are apt to be 
show that too vague, but particular ones are more consistent 
virtue is a with truth ; for actions are conversant with par- 
mean, ticularsj but it is necessary that the statements 

should agree with these. These particulars^ then, 

2. we must get from the diagram.' Now, on the 
Courage, subiect of fear and confidence, courai?e is the mean 

state. Of the persons who a^ in^BS, he who is 
in the excess of fearlessness has no name ; but 
there are many cases without names ; and he who 
is in the excess of confidence, is called rash ; but 
he who is in the excess of fear, but in the defect 
of confidence, is cowardly. 

3. On the subject of pleasures and pains (but not all 
Temper- pleasures and pains, and less in the case of pain^ 

' Probably some diagram to which he referred during the 
oral delivery of his lectures. 


than pleasures), temperance is the mean state, and 
intemperance the excess.* ^ But ihero are, in fact, 
liane who are in the defect on the subject of 
pleasures ; therefore these afeo hare no name ; but 
let ihcm be called insensible. 

On the subject of the giving and receiving of ^* 
mouey, liberality is the mean state, and the eoccess *^^®^*l^*y 
and defect, prodigality and illiberality. But in 
these, the excess and defect are mutuc^y cont^rary 
to each other ; for the prodigal man is in the 
excess in giving money, but is in the defect in re- 
ceiving ; but the illiberal man is in the excess in 
receiving, but in the defect in giving. Now, there- 
fore, we are speaking on these points as in an ont- 
line, and summarily, because we consider this suffi- 
cient ; but afterwards more accurate distinctions shall 
be dni,wn respecting them. 

But on the subject of money there are other dis- 5. 
positions also : magnificence is a mean state ; but Magnifl- 
the magnificent man differs from the liberal man ; ^^"^^* 
for one has to do with great things, the other with 
small ones ; the excess is bad taste and vulgar pro- 
fusion, the defect shabbiness. But these differ &om 
the vices which are related to liberality ; but their 
points of difference sh^ be stated hereafter. 

On the subject 07 honour and dishonoui*, mag- 6. 
nanimity is the mean ; the excess, a vice called Magnani- 
empty vanity ; 4ie defect, meanness of spirit. ™*^* 

But as we said that liberality, when compared 7. 
with magnificence, differed from it in being con- Anony- 
cemed with small things, so there is a kind of feeling ^^^^^^^ 
which, being itself about small honour, has the same 
relation to magnanimity, which is about great ho- 
noiu* ; for it Is possible to desire honour as we ought, 
and more than we ought, and less than we ought. 
Now he who is in the excess in the desire of honour fll 
is called ambitious, and he who is in the defect 
unambitious, but he that is in the mean has no 
name ; and the depositions are likewise namelessf, 
except that of the ambitious, which is called ambi- 
tion; and from tbis cause the extremes claim the 

48 ARISTOTLE'S frooK it. 

9. middle place. And we sometimes call him who is 
in the mean ambitious, and sometimes nnaiiibitions ; 
and sometimes we praise the ambitious man, and 
sometimes the man who is unambitious. But here- 
after the reason why we do this will be explained ; 
but now let us go on speaking of the others in the 
way in which we have begun. 
10. There are also on the subject of anger an excess. 
Meekness. ^ defect, and a mean state ; but since they may be 
said to be nameless, and as we call him who is in 
the mean meek, we will call the mean meekness ; 
but of the extremes, let him who is in excess be 
called passionate, and the vice passion ; him who is 
in defect insensible to anger, and the defect insensi- 
bility to anger. 
!'• There are also three other mean states, which ai*e 
The three somewhat alike, but yet differ from each other ; for 
tues* ^^^ they all have to do with the intercourse of words 
and actions ; but they differ, in that one respects 
truth, the other two pleasantness ; and of this 
there is a subdivision, namely, pleasantness in sport, 
and pleasantness in all things which concern 

12. life. We must therefore treat of these also^ 
in order to see more distinctly that the mean 
state is in all cases praiseworthy, and the ex- 
tremes neither right nor praiseworthy, but blame- 

13. able. Now the greater number of these likewise 
are nameless; but we must endeavour, as in 
the othei* cases, to make names ourselves, for the 

14- sake of clearness and perspicuity. On the sub- 
ject of truth, therefore, let him who is in the mean 
be called truthful, and the mean truthfulness ; buj; 
the pretence to truthfulness on the side of excess is 
arrogance, and he who has it is arrogant ; that on 
the side of defect is false modesty, and the person 

15. falsely modest. On the subject of pleasantness in 
sport, he who is in the mean is a man of graceful 
wit, and the disposition graceful wit ; ■ the excess 
ribaldry, and the person ribald ; he who is in defect 

' Evrf/a?re\ta. See note to translation of Rhet c. ii. 12^ 
p. 152. 

ciiA^. Tit.: ETHICS. 49 

a clown, and tlie liabit clownishness. With respect Iti. 
to the remaining pleasantness, namely, in all things 
which concern Hie, he who is pleasant as he should 
be is friendly, and the mean state friendliness ; he 
who is in excess, if it be done without any object in 
view, is over-complaisant, if for his own advantag»\ 
a flatterer ; but he who is in the defect, and in all 
cases unpleasant, is quarrelsome and morose. 

But there ai'e also mean states both in the pas- 17. 
sions and also in cases which concern the passions ; The pat- 
for modesty is not a virtue ; and yet the modest man V?^' . 
IS praised ; for in this case also there is one who is ' 

said to be in the mean, another in the extreme, of 
excess (as the bashful, who is ashamed at every- 
thing) ; the man who is deficient in shame, or does 
not feel it at all, is impudent ; but he who is in the 
mean is modest. But indignation* is a mean state 18. 
between envy and malevolence ; but these affections incug- 
are concerned with the pain and pleasure which are ^^^^^^' 
felt at the circumstances of our neighbours ; for 
he who is apt to feel indignation, feels pain 
at those who are undeservedly successful ; but the 
envious man, going beyond him, feels pain at every 
one's success ; and the malevolent man &,lls so far 
short of being pained, that he evon rejoices. But 19. 
in another place, also, we shall have an opportunity 
of speaking of these things, and on the subject of 
justice^ also, since the word is used not in one sense 
only. Afterwards we will divide these subjects, 
and state respecting each in what way they are 
meana We will in like manner treat of the in- 
tellectual virtues. 

* On the snhject of indignation (ve/icoric) see Rhetoric, 
Book II. ch. iz. 

* Justice is treated of in Book V. The view which Aris- 
totle there takes of it is exactly that which we should expect 
ci one who considers ethics as a branch of political science, for it 
win be seen that he considers Justice as a link between Ethics 
and Politics, the connecting virtue between the individnai and 
tlie social oommnnity. 

50 AKUSTOTLI!. ooose ix« 

CHAR vin. 

ti*tw Virtue$ and Vices are opposed to one (another, 

1. But since there are three dispositioiis, — ^t wo- vicio>iir>y 
Ike mean one in excess and the other in defect, and one 
and the virtuous, namely, the mean state, they are all in 
are'opp^sed ^'^ome sense opposed to each other ; for the extremes 
in three are opposed both to the mean state and to each 
ways. other, and the mean state to the extremes. For as 

2. the equal when compared with the less is greater, 
The mean and when compared with the greater is less ; so 
tremes*^' the mean states when compared with the defects 

are in excess, and when compared with the excesses 
are in defect, both in the passions and in the 
actions; for the 'brave man in comparison with 
the coward appears rash, and in comparison with 

3. the rash man a coward. In like manner also the 
temperate man in comparison with tha insmsiblc 
is intemperate, and in comparison w^th the intem- 
perate is insensible ; and the - liberal man in com- 
parison with the miberal is prodigal, and in com- 
parison with the prodigal is illiberaL 

4. Therefore those who are in the extreme tlimst 
away from them him who is in the mean state, each 
to the other, and the coward calls the brave ms^n 
rash^ and the 'rash man calls him a coward; an4.6o 

5. on in the other cases. But though they are thus 
The ex- opposed ta each other, thei'e is a ^neftter opposition 
tremes to between the extremes one to the other, than to the 
eacjj o er. j^^gj^ . £qj. ^j^^gg stand further apart from eacli 

other than from the mean>; just as the great is 
frirther from the small, and the small from the 
6 great, than either from the equal Again, there 
appears in some extremes some resemblsjice to the 
mean, as rashness seems to resemble courage, and -pro- 
digality liberality ; but there is the greatest disfflmi- 
larity between the extremes. Now things that are 
furthest apart from each other are defined to bif 


opposites ; so that those that arc fiu'tlier off arc more 
opposite. But in some cases the defect is more op- 7, 
posed to the mean, and in some cases the excess ; Eztremesto 
as, for example, rashness, wliich is the excess, is not f he means 

BO much opposed to courage as cowardice, which is *" ^^^^ 

the delect; and insensibility, which is the defect, 7.*^|avro5 
is less opposed to temperance than intemperance, rov npu/- 
whioh is the excess. naroc* 

Bo* this happena for two .«»ons; the first from •• , 

the nature of the thing itself; for from one extreme ^' ^z y^*'" 

being nearer and .more like the mean vUian the ^'*' 

otheir> it is. not tins but its opposite which we set 

down as most opposite; as^ since :raduiess appears 

to be nearer and more like courage than cowardice, 

and cowiardice' le^is like than rashness, w^ oppose 

cowardice to courage rather than rashness, beca%cse 

those things that are further from the mean appear 

to be more opposite to it. This, therefore^ is ene 9* 

reason^ arising froin the nature of the> thing itsdf; 

the other originates in ourselves ; for those tlnngs 

to which we aire more naturailj disposed, appear to 

be more contrary to the mean ; as, for instance,' we 

are more naturally disposed to pleasures, and thcore- 

fore we are more easily carried away to- interns- 

i perance than to propriety of conduct. These, then, 

nto which the inclination is more decided, we call 

\: motie Gjppoaite ; iand for this reason, intenkperaaoei, 

'; I which is the excess, is more opposite to tempesanoeL 


^010 we ihali arrive at the Mean and at Excellence, 

Now that moral virtue is a mean state, and how, 1. 
and that it is a mean state between two vices, one R^japitu- 
on the side of excess, and the other on the side of ^^*°^|j° ^ 
defect ; and that it is so from being apt to aim at y^qqi^^ 
the mean in. passions and actions, has been suffi- 
ciently pr«BQ|d. It Is therefore difficult also to be 2. 

< b2 

52 ARISTOTLE'S [book it. 

Difficult good ; for in eacli case it is difficult to find tli€ 

to be good, mean ; just as it is not in every man's power, but 

onlj in the power of him who knows how, to find the 

centre of a circle ; and thus it is easy, and in every 

man's power, to be angry, and to give and spend 

Rules for money ; but to determine the person to whom, and 

discovering the quantity, and the time, and the motive, and the 

the mean, jj^wnner, is no longer in every man's power, nor is 

it easy ; therefore excellence is rare, and praise- 

3. worthy, and honourable. It is therefore need^ 
1st rule. for hini who aims at the mean, first to keep away 

from that extreme which is more contrary^ like 
the advice that Calypso gave :^ 

** Keep the ship clear of this smoke and surge." 

For of the extremes, one is more and one less^ 

4. Since, then, it is difficult to hit the mean exactly, 
we must, as our second trial,^ choose the least of 
these evils ; and this will be best done in the man- 

2nd rule, ner which we have stated. But it is necessaiy to 
consider to which of the vices we ourselves are 
most inclined ; for some of ns are naturally dijs<> 
posed to one, and some to another ; and tins we 
shall be able to discover from the pleasure and 
pain which arise in us. But it is necessary to drag 
ourselves away towards the opposite extreme j for 
by bringing ourselves &x from the side of error, we 
shall arrive at the mean ; as people do with crooked 

5. sticks to make them straight. But in every case 
3rd rule, we must be most upon our guard against what is 

pleasant, and pleasure, for we are not ttnbiassed' 

^ Aristotle has here evidently quoted from memory, and 
•uhstituted Calypso for Circe. See Hom. Od. xii. 219. 
** Bear wide thy course, nor plough those angry waves. 
Where roUs yon smoke, yon trembling ocean raves." 

^ The proverb ** jcard rh^ dfvrspov irXovv " is thus tx 
plained b^ the Scholiast to the Phsedo of Plato :— ** Those 
^'' who fiul m their first voyage, make secure preparations fot 

^lajAr second." 

* AiUavToi' literally, unbribed. The origin of this weed it 
uuknown, except so far as that it is derivel from SskA, Im. 


judges of it. Just, then, as the Trojan elders felt 
respecting Helen, y must we feel respecting plea- 
sure, and in all cases pronounce sentence as they 
did; for thus, by "sending it away," we shall be 
less likely to fall into error. By so doing, then, to 
speak summarily, we shall be best able to hit the 
mean. But perhaps this may be difficult, and ^ 
especially in particiilar cases ; for it is not easy to 
define the manner, and the persons, and the occa- 
sions, and the length of time for a person to be 
angry ; for we sometimes praise those who are in 
the defect, and call them meek ; and sometimes 
those who are easily angered, and call them manly. 
But he who transgresses the right a little is not 7. 
blamed, whether it be on the side of excess or ^*™*^^^ ]^ 
defect, but he who does it too much ; for he does rUeat 
not escape notice. But it is not easy to define 
verbally how far, and to what point, a man is blame- 
able, nor is anything else that is judged of by the 
common feeling and sense of mankind easy to bo 
defined ; but such questions as these belong to par- 
ticular cases, and the decision of them belongs to 
moral perception. What we have said hitherto, 8» 
therefore, proves, that the mean state is in every 
<»ae pnuseworthy, but that we must indine 
sometimes towards excess, and sometimes towards 
defidency ; for thus we shall most easily hit the 
mean and that which is excellent. 

A^KOv itK^Q was a tenn applied to Athenian dicasts who were 
bribed, and Aecao/iov ypa^rj was an action brought against ■ 
peraon for bribing anothor. 
f See Horn. Iliad, iu. 158. 

** What winning graces ! what majestic mien I 
She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen I 
Yet hence, O heaven I convey that fiittd face, 
▲ad from destruction save the Trojan race.'' 

Pope's Hccrer, lU. 20f» 




Whai it ihe Volimiaryt and what the InvolunUay. 

I- HiKCEy then, virtue is convarsant with passdons anil 
^^*^bi actions, and praise and blame are bestowed on 
ancT^o^ voluntary acts, but pardon, and sometimes pity, on 
luntary. those winch are involuntary, it is perhaps necessai-y 

for those who study the subject of virtue to define 

what is the voluntary and what is the invckmtain/. 

It is moreover useful to legislators, for the regula* 

tion of rewards and punishments. 
'"^^ Now, it appears that those things which are done 
Aicovffia, ijy. constraint, or -through ignorance, are involun- 
rd Ci^ *^"7 i* ^^'^ ^^^ ^ 4one by compukion, of which 
Ayvoiav, the principle is external, and is of sueh character 
Biaiov. that the (igent or patient does not at all contribute 

towards it; as, for example, if the wind dipulcl. 
3. carrv a man anywheroi or persons having supreme 
AiiKrac authority over him. ^^\xt all those actions whicli 
Th^^^ffi are done through the fear of greater evils, or be- 
^^^g ' cause of Bomething.honourailjde^—ras if aiiyiwaLt, 
respecting having in his power oiur . parents . and children/ 
them ex- should order us to do some base deed, and lih^y 


* Since those actions are voluntary of which the prUicifle is 
in the agent, he not heing ignorant of. the partioalar dream. 
stances, an act is involuntary if one of the two eonditiona 
which constitute voluntariness is wanting. If the agent 
knows the circumstances, hut the principle is external, the act 
is done hy compulsion ; if the principle is internal, but the 
agent is ignorant of the circumstances, it is done through igno* 
ranee. Aristotle has omitted the third kind of involuntary 
actions, viz., where both conditions are wanting ; e.^. where 
there is an external force, sucn as sleep, insanity, drunkeniKMts, 
impelling us to act by msans of ignorance of the crrum. 
ftances. — Michelri 


in the case of our obedience sHoiild be saved, 
but in the case of our refusal should be put to 
death, — ^it admits of a question whether they are 
involuntary or voluntary. Something of this kind 4. 
happens likewise in the case of throwing things 
overboard in a storm.; for, abstractedly, no one 
volimtarily throws away Ids goods, but for his 
own and his companions* safety every sensible man 
does it. 

Such actions as these, therefore, are of a ndxed 5. 
chaittcter ; but they resemble volimtary acts most, for Reasons 
•it the time of their perfonnance tliey are eligible, ^^^^ ^^ 
and the end of the action depends upon the time of gemble tbs 
performance. An act, therefore, is to be called voLun- iKovam, 
tary and involuntary at the time when a man does C* 
it. But he does it voluntarily, for the principle of 
moving the limbs, which are used as instruments, 
I'osts in such actions with the man himself; and 
where the principle is in himself, the doing or not 
doing the actions is in himself also. Such actions 7. 
aa these, therefore, are voluntary, but abstractedly 
they are perhaps involuntary, for no person would 
choose anything of the kind for its own sake. In Sometime! 
such acts as these people are sometimes even praised and 
praised, whenever they imdergo anything disgrace- ^^gj"*^* 
fill or painful for the sake of great and honourable : • * 

consequences, but if it be the reverse, they are 
blam^ ; iov to undergo very disgraceful things for 
no honourable or adequate cause is a mark of a 
worthless man. Butin some cases praise is not 8. 
bestow«dy but pardon, when a man does what he pardoned 
ought not to «o, owing to causes which are too 
Kirong for human nature, the pressure of which no 
one could suppert. But there are some things 9. 
which it is wrong to do, even on compulsioti; arid 
a man ought rather to undergo the most dreadfiil 
giitferings, even death, -than do them ; for the causes 
which compelled the Alcmseon of Euripides *» to 
idll his mother appear ridiculous. 

* This pUy of Euripides being lost, it is not liVkOum what : . ^ 

iaie ridlciuoiis causes are to v^hich Arbtollo tvHudea. 

M ARTST0'1T.E*S [book uu 

10. But it is soinctiiDe.fl hard to decide wLat kind of 
tiling we ought to choose in preference to another, 
and what thmg in preference to another we oughi 
to undergo ; ana ^ill more difficult is it to abide by 
the decisions we n^ake ; for, for the most part, wha/ 
^ e are expecting is painful, and what we are com- 
pelled to do is disgraceful ; and hence praise and 
blame are bestowed with reference to our being or 

11. not being compelled. Now, what kind of things are 
to be called compulsory ] Are they, absolutely, all 
those in which the principle is external, and to 
which the doer contributes nothing? But those 
acts which abstractedly are involimtary, but which, 
in the present case, and in preference to these 
things, are eligible, and of which the principle Ls 
in the doer, are abstractedly involuntary, but in 
this case, and in preference to these things, volun- 
tary; nevertheless they more resemble volimtaiy 
acts, for actions are conversant with particulars, and 
particulars are volimtary. 

12. But it is not easy to lay down a rule as to 
what kind of things are eligible in preference to 
other things, for there are many differences in par- 

Reasoii ticulars. But if any one should say that pleasant 
why it)Ska ^n^j honourable tLings are compulsory, for, being 
eompul- external, they force a person to act, everything 
•ory. would in this way be compulsory j for, for the sake 

of these things, everybody does everything; and 
those who act from constraint, and involuntarilj, 
do it painfully ; but those who act for the sake of 
pleasure and honour do it pleasantly ; consequently^ 
it is ridiculous for a man to complain of external 
circumstances, and not himself, who lias been a 
willing prey to such things ; and to call himself the 
cause of his honourable acts, and pleasure the oause 
of his dishonourable ones. Now, the compulsory 
appears to be that of which the principle is ex* 
temal, and to which the person compelled contri- 
butes nothing. 

13. But that which is through ignorance is in all cases 

fl^ l» dy- non-Yoluntanr ' biit only that which is followed by 
woiav are, 



paiik and, is inTolantary ■" for ho wlio Votuntiry 
haa done' any action through ignorance, and who Noti. 
feels no annoyance at it, did not indeed do it volun- '<'l"°ta'''- 
tarily, inasmuch na he did not know it ; nor, on the iunt™ 
other hand, did he do it invohmtai-ily, inaanmch as 
be feels no pain at it. Now, of the two kinds of 14. 
people who act through ignorance, he who feels J' """'"■ 
repentance B|ipear8 to be an involuntary agent; ,p"t„fti,L 
but he who feels no repentance must be caUed, since 
Lc is not of the same character, by a ditferent name 
— non-Toluntaiy ; for, ainoe there is a difference, it 
is better that he should have a name of hia own. 

But there seems to be a difference between acting 15. 
iliTOugh ignoraTux, and acting ignoranUy ; for he Differeme 
who 13 under the influence of drunkenneaa or anger I'^'ween ^ 
does not seem to act through ignorance, but for one '^..^^av 
tii the motives mentioned, not knowingly but igno- ^nd 
rantly; for every vicious man is ignorant of what d/voSv. 
he OiOght to do, and from what he ought to ab- 
stain j and through such faulty ignoi'auce men be- 
come nnjuat and altogether depraved. But the IS. 
meaning of the term " involuntary " is not if a 
person b ignorant of what is expedient, for igno- 
rance in principle is not the cause of involuntai'i- 
□ess, but of viciousness ; nor is ignorance of uni- ignorance 
versals the cause of involuntariness (for on account either 
of Bucb ignorance we are blamed), hut ignorance of '""•*''™ 
particulars in the circumstances of the action ; for ,icuj^" 
in these cases we are pitied and oardoDed, for he 
who ia ignorant of any of these things acts involun- 
tarily. Perhaps, then, it would be no bad thing 17. 
to define what these circumstances are, and how Wlien ig- 

' B7 Xhe Biprasaion " nttins ieaoninlly " {ayvoSiv) is 
meant ignorance oF tlie principle. Tbia u caneidered by all ' 
moraluU and jurists TolunUry, and thetefare blsmeabls, ai il: 
ii aBsiuned thnt nil persons are, or ought to be, acquainted with 
tiie prinoipju of rigkit uidjooiu. and with tbe law uf the land. 
To act " ttrough ignorance " (ei' iyiioiov) signifies ignonmcp 
of the fact. If an action of this kind is followed by repent- 
anna, Aristotle calla it involnntary {atoimev), and therefore 
Ader* it eicusable i but if not repented of, be term* it 
i-Tolaatary (due kiolauiv), sad pronooncei it unpardon- 

,l pardonable 

M ARI5TOTT.F/S [book m. 

many there are :>£ them, and who the person ia 
who acts, and what he does, and about what and in 
what case he does it ; and sometimes with what, aa 
the instroment; and from what motive, as safety > 

18. and in what manner,- as gently or violently. No 
person except a ma<hnan could be ignorant of all 
these particulars ; and it is clear that he cannot be 
ignorant of the agent, for how could he be ignorant 
of himself? But a man might be ignorant of what 
he does, as those who say that they had forgotten 
themselves, or that they did not know that they 
were forbidden to speak of it, as .^Ssohylus said 
respecting the mysteries ;* or that, wishing to ex- 
hibit an engme, he let it off by mistake, as the man 

19. let off the catapult. Again one might &ncy one*s 
son an enemy, as did Merope ;^ and that a sharp- 
ened spear was rounded at the point, or that a 
stone was pumice ; and, striking a person in order 
to save him, might kill him, and wiidiing to show a 
hit, as boxers do when they spar, might strike a 

20. person. Ignorance, therefore, being possible on all 
these circumstances connected with the .act, he 
who was ignorant of any one of these, seems ta 
have acted involuntarily, and particularly in tho 
priiH^pal «ii«ainstance» ; W. tbTptincipi: dro«m- 
stances appear to be those of the act itself And the 
motive. But though inVoluntarinesR is B&id to 
consist : in. such ignorance as> this, still the act mNist 
be painfiil, and followed by repentance. 

21 . , But^ since • the invohmtairy is that which is done 
Definition through- tx>nstraint and that which is done^thFough. 
Toluntarr. igiw)rfflDce, it would appear that the volu&taiy is. 

^ A Greek scholiast says, that ^schjFlos, in five of his tra^ 
gedieSy spoke of Demeter, and therefore may be- irapposed in 
these casts to have toached npon sabJMts conneoted fiHth the 
mysteries; and Heraclides of Pontas says, that on t)u8-ai?foant 
he wAs in danger of being. killed by the populace} if-behAd;not 
fled for refuge to the altar of Dionysus, and been begged oA 
by tho Areopagites, and -acquitted on the ipfoonds-bf hi»ez* 
ploits at Marathon. -' 

* The Gresphcntes of Euripides is meatioaed by AriMot]»$r 
his Poetics ; in the dgnouemeni Merope MoogAites -her 
when on the point of killing him. 

CHAP. X1.3 ETHICi. by 

that of wki^ the principle is in tLe doer himself, 
having a knoirledge of the particulars, namely, the 
circumstances of iLe act ; for perhaps it is not Why acts 
correct to say that the acts oi aii^er or dedre are done from 
involuntary. For if so, in the first place, no other f^lg ' 
living creature except man, and no children, will are not in. 
be voluntary agents ; and in the second place, voluntary. 
we may ask the question, is no one of the acts of 22. 
desire or anger, which we do, done voluntarily ? or 
are the good c»ies done voluntarily, but the bad ones 
invedfuitarily ? or is it not ridiculous to make such 
distinctums, when the cause of both is one and 
the same? Perhaps, too, it is absurd to call objects 23. 
of proper desire involuntary; and in some oases it 
is riffht to be anffrvi ftnd some thins^s it is ri^ht to 
de^, as health md learning ; but ^gs involun- 
tary seem to be painM^, whilst things done from 
deare are pleasant. Again, what is the difference 24. 
with respect to involuntariness between the &.idts 
that '.are committed on principle and in anger 1 
for both are to be avoided; and the irrational 
passioiis appear to be no less naturally belonging 
to man ; and therefore irrational actions equally 
bekxng to him. It is absurd, therefore, to cidl 
thewi aetiooB involuntary. 



-^What ii0ke nature o/deliberaie Prtferenee. 

Thb nature of the voluntary and the involuntary 1. 
having been described, the next thing is, that we ^rpoaipiaic 
should examine the object of deliberate prefer- ~'*^^*'*'^ 
ence ; for it appears to bo most intimately con- jj jg ^,fj^, 
nected- with virtue, and even more than actions to <riov ov 
be a test of character. Now, delibemte preference tuMp ^f» 
appears to be voluntary, but not the sauie as ** the 
▼ohintajy," but "the voluntary" is more extensive : 
for both childi-en and other beings partic'.patci iii 

90 ARISTOTLE'S [book hi. 

the voluntary, but not in delibei*ate preference ; 
and we call sudden and unpremeditated acts volun - 
tary, bni we do not say that they wt^re done fix>ni 
deliberate preference. But those who say that it 
is desire, or anger, or volition, or any opinion, 
3. do not seem to speak correctly. For deliberate 
l^'hy it preference is not shared by irrational beings; but 
'LT^ ' desire and anger are; and the incontinent man 
vfiia. ^^^ from desire, and not fix)m deliberate prefer- 
ence ; and the continent man, on the other hand, 
acts from deliberate preference, and not from desire. 
And desire is opposed to deliberate preference, but 
not to desire ; and desire is conversant with the 
pleasant and painfrd, but deliberate preference with 
^ neither. Still less is it anger ; for acts done from 
Why it is anger do not at all seem done from deliberate pre- 
not ^vfiog, ference. Nor yet is it volition, although it appears 
. ^' to approach very near it ; for there is no deliberate 
18 not* preference of impossibilities ; and if any person 
dovXrjfng, should say that he deliberately preferred them, he 
would be thought a fool; but there is volition of 
impossibilities, as of immortality. And there is 
voHtion about things which cannot by any possi- 
bility be performed by one's self; as, that a par- 
ticular actor, or wrestler, should gain the victory ; 
but no person deliberately prefers such things a.« 
these, but only such things as he thinks may come 
6. to pass by his own agency. But, further, volition 
is rather of the end, and deliberate preference of 
the means ; for instaiice, we wish to be in health, 
but we deliberately prefer the means of becoming 
so ; and we wish to be happy, and say so ; but 
it is not a suitable expression to say, we deliberately 
prefer it ; for, in a word, there appears to be no 
deUberate preference in matters which are out of 
our power. 
«, Nor yet can it be opinion ; for opinion seems to 
Why it be about all objects, and on things eternal and 
it not ^c;s. impossible, just as much as on things which are in 
our own power; and opinions are divided according 
to their truth and falsehood not according ta 


vice and virtue ; but the contrary is tl.e case with 9, 
tleliberate preference. But, perhaps, no one says Why not 
it is the same as f/pinion generally ; but it is not some 
even the same as any particular opinion ; for we P^J'*^\*^"'*' 
get our character from our deliberate preference of 
things good or 6ad, and not from our opinions. 
And we deliberately prefer to take a thing, or not 9. 
to take it, or something of this kind ; but we form 
an opinion as to what a thing is, or to whom it is 
sidvantageous, or how ; but we do not form an 
opinionr at all about taking or not taking it ; and 
deliberate preference is rather praised for its being 
directed to a right object, or for being rightly directed, 
but opinion, for its being true. And we deliberately 10. 
prefer those things which we most certainly know 
to be good, but we form opinions about those things 
which we do not know for certain. And it does not 
appear that the same people are the best both in 
forming opinions, and in exercising deliberate pre- 
ference ; but some are good in opinion, but through 
vice prefer not what they ought. But whether opi- 11. 
nion arises before deliberate preference, or whether 
it follows upon it^ matters not ; l()r this is not the 
point which W3 are investigating, but whether it 
is the same with any opinion. What, then, is its 
genus^ and what its species, since it is not any of 
the things we have mentioned 1 It seems, in fiu;t, 
voluntary ; but not everything which is voluntary 
is the object of deliberate preference^ but only that jts nomina 
which hais been previously the object of deHbera- definirion. 
tion ; for deliberate preference is joined with reason np^ *'f'- 
and intellect ; and its name seems to edgnify that ^^'' "^^^' 
it is somewhat chosen before other things. 


Bupeeiing Deliberation^ and the Object of Deliberation. 

But do men deliberate about eveivfthing, ajid is!. 
ever)'tliing an object of deliberation, or are there 'i't»ings 

62 ARISTOTLE'S [bijok hi. 

which some things about which there is no ileliberaiion 1 

cannot be But perhaps we must call that an objec- of delibe- 
theobjecu potion, about wliich, not a fool or a madman, but a 
3ov\h re:isonable man would deliberate. Aboujb thinijjs 

2. eternal no man deliberates, as about the world, 
or the diagonal and thq side of a 8quare,f th>t 
they are incommensurable ; nor yet about. 
motion, which always go on in the same. manner, 
whether it be from neces^ty, or Aat»i^ or. any 
other cause^. .as the solstices and the sunrise ; nor 
yet about things which are diff^^^nt at dlOrecent 
times, as droughts and showers ; jxor about .things 
accidental, as the finding of a treasure; nor yet 
about everything hiunan, as no Lacedsemonian. 
delibemies how the Scythians might be. best go- 
verned; for none of these thing? coidd be done 

3. IJmmgh our own agency. But we deliberate about 
those subjects of action which are in our own . 
power ; , and t)iese are the cases which; remain ; foi 
the prMidples of causation appear to :be, Katm^ 
Necessity, and Chance ; and, besides these, Mind^ 
and all that takes place through the agency of loan. 
But each individual man deliberates about those 
subjects of action which are in his own power. 
And respecting the exact and self-sufficient sciences, 
there is no deliberation; as respecting, letter£f^.foi 

4. we do not doubt how we ought, to .wxite* .^But. 
Object- we delibe^te about all those jihingsr-wii^j^pfin 
matter of by OUT own means, and hot alwayls iAi.jtlle fsame. 

^^' ^' manner; as about the art of mec^oine,; of: finance, 
and the art of navigation, more ihan gyimia^cs, 
inasmuch as it is less exactly describM*: and 
likewise about the rest; and more about, tha arts 
than the sciences ;£^ for we debate more about 

' The diagonal and side of a square are incommensurable ; 

for let the side = «, then the diagonal = ^2 • a, and ^2 
cannot be expressed by a finite number. 

V We debate more about the arts than the sciences, because 
the former are concerned with contingent matter, the latter 
with necessary matter. Still, however, the Greeks divided the 
bdences into oKpiitlg and (rroxaffniraj, and of these the latter 



' tT, 

m. But deiibei'atiaii takes plaiw iii tlie cas« 
things that generally happen, but rfspecting 
'luch it is uncertain how they may turn out, and 
1 which thciv) is indofinitDnesa. But we tnjce j 
advice of others on great mattent, because we fiovXr, 't, 
distrost ourselvea, as unable to decide with suJfi- i-'ODcerjiiij 
cleat accuracy. And wo do not delibei-ate about ?'™™" 
lUds, but about means ; for the physician does not 
teliberate whether he sliall heal, nor the orator 
. jhetherhe shall persuade, nor tlio lawgiver whether 
he shall make good laws, nor anybody else about 
the end; but having determined on some end, 
they deliberate how and by what means it may bo 

And if it appears that it may be done by J. 
more meaits than one, they next deliberate by 
which it may be done most easily and honourably ; 
bnt if it can be accomplished by one meaii^ how it 
can be done by this, and by what means this can 
be eSected, until they anive at the first cause, 
which is the last in the analysis ', for he who delibe- 
rates appears to investigate and analyze the subject 
like a mailLematical problem, in the way that we 
have mentioned. Sow, not aU investigation seems g. 
to be deliberation, as the invoatigations of mathe- It differi 
matics ; hut every deliberation is an investigation ; 'i'"'". """*■ 
and the last thing in the analysis is the first in the '^ ""*' 
execution. And if men come to an impossibility, 
they leave off deliberating ; aa, for example, if 
money is necessary, but it is impossible to get it ; 
but if it appears possible, they set about acting- 
For those things which can be done through our 
own agency are possible ; for those things which 
* :n by means of our friends, happen in some 
through our own agency; for the principle 
ourselves. But sometimes the inEtruments, 
id sometimes the use of them, are the stibject of 9( 
itigation, and in like mnjmer in the other 
sometimes we investigate by whose as- 

-e capable or being made the auhjec(9 of (leliberatiM 

n the subject of ddi1>e 

tion. lUiet. Boole I, c 

61 ARISTOTLE'S [nooic iii. 

dstaDCf!, and sometimes how, or by what means. 
hei*efore, as we have asid, it seems that man is the 
origin of all actions ; but deliberation is about those 
subjects of moral conduct which are in one's own 
power ; but actions are for the sake of other things. 

10. The end, therefore, cannot be a subject of delibera- 
BovXtvTvv tion, but the means ; nor yet are particulars the 
IS not the Qi^jg^t of deliberatioi^; as whether this is a loaf or 

whether it is baked as it ought ; for these points 
belong to the province of sensual perception, and 
if a man is always deliberating, he will go on for 

11. ever. Now, the object of deliberation and that of 
liovXevTov deliberate preference are the same, except that 
"rri"^^^'** the object of deliberate preference has already 
differ. been restricted in its meaning ; for that which 

after deliberation is preferred^ is an object of de- 
liberate prefei-ence ; for every person ceases to 
deliberate how he shall act, when he refers the 
principle to himself, and his ruling part ; for it is 

12. this which deliberately prefers. But this is clear 
from the ancient forms of government also, which 
Homer mentions in his poems ;^ for the kings used 
to refer to the people those measures which they 
had decided to be preferable. Now, since the ob- 
ject of dehberate preference is the object of delibe- 
ration and of desire, and for things in our own power, 
it follows that deliberate preference is the ddiberctte 

Tlpoalcinc ^^^^ ^ things in our power; for having made our 
defined. decision after deliberation, we desire according to 
our deliberation. Now, let deliberate preference 
have been sufficiently described in outline, and 
its object stated, and that it is respecting the 

^ See for example Horn. II. ii. 66, Pope's translation. 
'* Th' assembly placed, the long of men expressed 
The counsels lab'ring in his artful breast. 
Friends and confederates ! with attentire ear 
Receive my words, and credit what you hear." 
The Illustration of which Aristotle here makes use reminds ns 
of the psychical theory of Plato : for he compares the ra- 
tional part of the soul to kings, as though it possiessed a divine 
right of ruling and advising ; and the appetitive part to the 
people whose duty it is to listen and obey. 

«BAi». IV.) ETHlCSu to 


Receding Fo/i/icm, and (he object ofti. 

That volition is of the end, has been stated ; Lut i. 
to some it appears to be of the good, and to others Whether 
of the apparent good. Now the conchision to which *^® object 
they come who say that the object of volition is the QovXnrdv' 
good, will be, that what he wishes who chooses in- is the real' 
correctly, is no object of volition at all (for if it is or apparent 
to be an object of volition, it must also be good } |°od' 
but it might be, if it so happens, bad) ; but according * 
to those who, on the other hand, tell us that the 
object of volition is the apparent good, there will be 
no natural object of volition, but only that which 
seems to each person to be so ; and different things 
appear so to different persons, and as it might 
happen, contrary things. 

Now if these accounts are unsatisfactory, must 3. 
we then say that, abstractedly, and in reaUty, the ^^estion 
good is the object of volition, and to each indi- 
vidual, that which to him appears to be so ? That 
the good man's object of volition is the real good, 
but the bad man's anything which he may happen 
to think good ? Just as in the case of the body, 4. 
those, things are wholesome to persons in a good Cases of 
state of body, which are in reality wholesome, ^^^^SJ' 
but different things to persons diseased ; and like- 
wise things bitter and sweet, and warm and heavy, 
and everything else; for the good man judges 
everything rightly, and in every case the truth 
appears so to him ; for there are certain things 
honourable and pleasant in every habit. And per- ^» 
haps the principal difference between the good and 
the bad man is that the good man sees the truth in 
every case, sinoe he is, as it were, the rule and 
measure of it. But the generality of mankind ^, . . , 
seem to be deceived by pleasure ; for it appears to led^tray 
be the good, though it is not so: and therefore bypleasure. 



[book lit- 

men choose what is pleasant, xuider the idea that 
il is good; and ayoid pain, as an evil 


proTed to 
oe Tolan- 


is also TO- 


TTiai Virtues and Vices are voluntary,^ 

1. Now the end being an object of volition, and the 
means objects of deliberation and deliberate pre- 
ference, the actions which regard these must be in 
accordance with deliberate preference, and volnn- 
taiy ; and the energies of the virtues are conversant 
with these. And virtue also must be in our own 
power ; and in like manner vice : for wherever we 
have the power to do, we have also the power not 
to do ; and wherever we have the power not to 

2. do, we have also the power to do. So that if it be 
in our power to do a thing, wldch is honourable, to 
leave it undone, which is disgraceful, wiU be in our 
power likewise ; and if it be in our power to leave 
a thing imdone, which is honourable, to do it, which 
is disgraceful, is in our power likewise. But if the 
doing things honourable and disgraceful be in our 
power, and the abstaining from them be likewise in 
our power (and this is the meaning of being good 
and bad), then the being good and bad will be in 
our power also. 

3. But as to the saying, that " No person is will- 
ingly wicked, nor imwillingly happy," it seems 
partly true,'' and partly false ; for no one is un- 
willingly happy ; but vice is volimtary. Or else 
we must contradict what we have just said, and 

' The freedom of the will in the case of vice as well as 
Tirtue, forms a most important subject of inyestigation, be- 
cause, although Greek philosophers generally allowed that 
yirtue was Toluntary, still Socrates held that vice was iuTolun- 
tary. The reader is recommended to study attentively, in 
connection with this part of the subject, Butler's Anidogy, 
'Part I. c. ▼!., '* On the opinion of necessity as influencing 
practice ;'* and also his Sermons on Human Nature. 

CHAP, v.] ETHICS. €7 

deny that man is the origm ana tlie parent of 
bis actions, as of his children. But if tins appear 4. 
true, and we have no other principles to which we 
may refer our actions than those which are in our 
own power, then those things, the principles of Second 
which are in our own power, are themselves also reason. 
in our own pow, and yoluntaiy : and testimony ■ \ 

seems to be borne to this statement both by private 
persons individuaUy, and by legislators thelnielves ; 
for they chastise a^d puni^ those who do wicked 
deeds, unless they do them upon compulsion, or 
through an ignorance for which they are them- 
selves to blame : and they confer honour on those 
who do good actions, with a view to encouraging 
the one and restraining the other. And yet no 5. 
person encourages us to do those things which are 
neither in our own power, nor voluntary, consider- 
ing it not worth while to persuade us not to be 
not, or cold, or himgry, or anything of this kind ; 
for we shall suffer them all the same. For they g. 
punish people even for ignorance itself, if they ap- First 
pear to be the cause of their own ignorance ; just as objection 
the punishment is double for drunken people ; for k ^3^^^ 
the principle is in themselves, since it was in their answered, 
own power not to get drunk, and this is the cause 
of their ignorance. And they pimish those who are 7^ 
Ignorant of anything in the laws, which they ought 
to know, and which is not difficult ;^ and likewise in 
all other cases in which they appear to be ignorant 
throngh negligence, on the ground that it was in 
their own power not to be ignorant ; for they had 
it in their own power to pay attention to it. But 
perhaps a person is imable to give his attention ; g^ 
but they are themselves the causes of their inability. Second 
by living in a dissipated manner ; ^ and persons are objection. 

^ Ignorantia juris nocet, ignorantia facti non nocet, is a 
weU-]mown axiom of jurists. 

' Reason and rerelation alike teach us the awful truth thai" 
■in exercises a deadening effect on the moral perception c? 
right and wrong. Ignorance may be pleaded as an excuse, 
but not that ignorance of which man is himself the cause* 
Such ignorance is the result of wilful sin. This corrupts the 


ro ARISTOTLE'S [book hi, 

some measure upon himself; or whether the eud 
k by nature fixed, and from the good man's per* 
forming the means voluntarily, virtue is voluntary ; 
in both cases vice is just as voluntary as virtue ; 
for the bad man is jusb as much a voluntary agent 

17, in his actions as the good man. If then, as is said, 
Fifth rea- the virtues are voluntary, (for we are in some sense 
^^' joint causes of our habits, and from our being of a 

certain character, we propose to ourselves the same 
kind of end,) the vices must be voluntary also , 

18. for they are just as much so as the virtues. Now 
"®"'" about the virtues we have spoken generally; we 
ffUEom^ up. ^^® ^^ ^ outline, as it were, that they are mean 

' states, and that they are habits ; we have stated 
from what things they derive their origin, and that 
these things they are themselves apt to practise ; 
that they are in our own power, that they are 
volimtary, and that they are under the direction 
of right reason. 
19* But the actions and the habits are not in the 
Habits not same manner voluntary ; for we are masters of our 
M^tioD^ actions from the beginning to the end, since we 
know the particulars ; but we are masters only of 
tho beginning of our habits ; but the addition of 
particulars we are not aware o^ as we are in the case 
of sicknesses ; but because it was in our power to. 
make this or that use of particulars in the first. 
20. instance, on this accoimt they are voluntary. Let 
us then take up the virtues again separately, and ' 
state what they are, what their subjects are, and . 
how they are virtues ; and it will be at the same . 
time clear how many there are : and first of '. 


The dilution of Couraye. 

I. Now that courage la a mean state on the subjects 
Coange. of fear and confidence has been already made apjxar- 


rent : but it is evident that we fear things terrible ; 
and these are, to speak generally, evils ; and there- 
fore people define fear " the expectation of evil." Fear. 
"Now we fear all evils, as disgrace, poverty, disease, 2. 
Mendlessness, and death. But the brave man does 
not appear to have to do with all evils ; for some it 
is right and good to fear, and not to fear them is 
disgraceful, as, for example, not to fear disgrace ; for 
he who fears this is a worthy and modest man, and 
he who does not fear it is shameless. But by some 
people he is called brave, metaphorically; for he 
bears some resemblance to the brave man ; for the 
brave man too is fearless. But poverty, perhaps, 3. 
and disease, and all those things which do not hap- Moral 
pen from vice, or our own fault, it is not right to *^'"^*8'' 
fear; but yet the man who is fearless in these 
things is not brave. But him, too, we call so, from 
the resemblance ; for some who in war are cowards, 
are liberal, and behave with courage under pecu- 
niary losses. Nor yet is a man a coward if he 4. 
is afraid of insult to his children and wife, or of 
enTy, or anything of this kind ; nor is he brave if 
he feels confidence when about to be scourged."* 
"What sort of fearful things, then, has the com-ageous 5, 
man to do with ; the greatest 1 for no man is more Cases in 
able than he is to imdergo terrible things ; but death which the 
is the most terrible of all things ; for it is a limit ;^ ho^^<»n- 
and it is thought that to the dead there is nothing ^age. 
beyond, either good or bad. And yet the brave man 6. 
does not apjJear to have to do with death in every ^^^ ^^ 0<>* 
form ; as at sea, and in disease. With what kinds yp^'^^'^^^* 
of death, then ? Is it with the most honourable 1 Courage 
But those that occur in war are of this kind, for in is not . 
war the danger is the greatest and most honomuble. shown in 
The public honours tlmt are awarded in states and ^^ ^^ ®* 
by monarchs attest this. 

Properly, then, he who in the case of an honour- g. 

"* Aristotle is here alluding to the severities of the Lace- 
dtemonian law. 

■ Mors ultima lines rerum* — Hor« See on this subject, 
note, Book I. chap. ii. 

72 ARISTOTLE'S [book m. 

able death, and under circumstances close at hand 
which cause death, is fearlesp, may be called courage- 
ous; and the dangers of war are, more than any 
9. others, of this description. Not but that the brave 
The cha- jj^gj^ jg fearless at sea, and in sickness ; but not 
Mdlore not ^^^ *^® same cause as seamen ; for the brave give 
truly cou- ^P ^dl hope of safety, and are grieved at such a 
rageous. land of death; but seamen are sanguine, because 
10. of their experience. Moreover, brave men show 
manhness in cases where there is room for exerting 
themselves, and in which death is honourable ; but 
in such deaths as those above-mentioned there is 
neither one of these conditions nor the other. 



Of the Brave Man^ and those who are in the extremes on 

either side of Bravery, 

1. But the terrible is not to all persons the same ; and 
^o%ipa there is something which we say is beyond the 

VoiaTTo^' V^^^^ ^^ ^^'^ ^ hes^ ; this, therefore, is terrible to 

2. every man, at least to every man of sense. But 
tear av- those which are within the power of man to bear 
Gpuiwov. differ in magnitude, and in being some greater and 

some less ; and circumstances which cause con 
fidence differ likewise. But the brave man is fear- 
less, as becomes a man ; therefore at such things 
he will feel fear ; but he will bear up, as fiir as 
right and reason dictate, for the sake of what is 
honourable ; for there is this same end to all the 

3. virtues. But it is possible for these things to be 
feared too much and too little, and, again, for 
things not terrible to be feared as if they were so. 
But of faults, one is that the thing itself is not 
right ; another, that the manner is not right ; 
another, that the time is not. right, and so on ; 
and the case is similar with respect to things that 

4. cause confidence. Now he who bears bravely, and 


who fears what he ought, and from the right mo- Brave man 
tive, and in the right manner, and at the right defined, 
time, and feels confidence in like manner, is brave. 
For the brave man suffers and acts just as the 
nature of the case demands, and right reason war- 

But the end of every energy is that which is ac- 5. 
cording to the habit ; and courage is that which is 
honourable in the case of the brave man ; such 
therefore is his end ; for everything is defined by 
its end. For the sake, therefore, of what is honour- 
able, the brave man bears and performs those things 
which belona: to coaraffe. But of those who are in 6. 
the extreme of excess there are two kinds, one who ^va\yii > 
is excessive in fearlessness, who is not named (and ^°^' 
we have before stated, that many of these extremes 
are not named) ; biit he (if, as is said of the Celts,® 
he fears nothing, neither earthquake nor waves) may 
be called mad or insensate. The other, who is ex- 7, 
cessive in his confidence in terrible circumstances, 
is rash ; and the rash man is thought to be arro- QpautXc 
gant, and a pretender to courage. He then wishes 
to seem what the courageous man is in terrible cir- 
cumstances ; wherever he can, therefore, he imitates 
him. Most of these, therefore, are at once bold and 
cowardly ; for though they are bold in these cases, 
yet they do not bear up under circumstances of 
terror. But he who is excessive in fear is a cow- 8. AciXo» 
ard ; for he has all the attendant characteristics of 
fearing what he ought not, and as he ought not, 
and so forth ; besides, he is deficient in confidence ; 
but where he is called upon to bear pain, he more 
especially shows that he is in excess. Now the 
coward is desponding, for he fears everything ; but 
the brave man is just the reverse, for confidence 
belongs to the sanguine temper. With the same sub- 9. AciX^c, 
jects, therefore, are conversant the characters of the ^oaaiiQ.^sii 

* Aristotle makes similar mention of the Celts (Eudem. 
Eth. ill. i.) : — olov 01 KeXrot vphQ rd Kv/iara 57rXa d-TravT&ai 
Xat6vTtc. See also ^lian, Yar. Hist. zii. 23; Strabo, tu. 
p. 293 {Cardwell). 

74 ARISTOTLE'S [book m. 

at^piloc coward, the rasli, and the brave man, but they are 
all conver- differently disposed with i^espect to them ; for the 
sant with ^^^ £j^ ^^ ^ excess and defect : the other is in 

things'.'" *!»« ='«^' '^^ «« J^* «'^1'* to be ; the msh are pre- 
dpitate, and though beforehand they are full oi 
eagerness, yet in the midst of dangers they stand 
aloof; the brave are in action ftill of spirit, but 

10. beforehand tranquil. As we said, therefore, courage 
is a mean state with respect to subjects of con- 
fidence and terror ; i. e. in those which have been 
specified ; and it chooses and bears up, because it is 
honourable to do so, or because it is disgraceful not 

11. to do so. But to die, and thus avoid poverty or 
Suicide Jove, or anything painftd, is not the part of a brave ' 
^ ^^ man, but rather of a coward ; for it is cowardice to 

avoid trouble ; and the suicide does not undergo 
death because it is honourable, but in order to avoid 
eviL Such, then, is the nature of courage. } 

F^ve other Forms of Courage. 

1. There are, besides this, five other forms of courage 
Five spu- gpoken of : first, the political, for it is most like 

UoXiTiKTj, ^^ accoimt of the rewards and pxmishments enacted 
by law, to avoid reproach and to obtain distinction. 

2. And for this reason those nations appear to be the 
most valiant, among whom cowards are disgraced, 
and brave men honoured ; and it is characters ot 
this kind that Homer makes the heroes of his 
poems, as Diomede and Hector, — " Polydamas wiH 
be the first to load me with reproacL"? And 
Diomede says, " For Hector will one day say, when 
speaking among the Trojans, The son of Tydeua 

3. beneath my hand." But this most nearly resem* 

7 ^ See Horn. II. zxii. 100, or Pope's translatioii, line 140; 

and viii. 148, or Pope, line 179. 

CHAP, viu.] ETHICS. 75 

bleB the courage before mentioned, because it ariseB 
from virtue ; lor it arises from shame, and the de- 
sire of what is honourable, that is, distinction, and 
from shunning reproach, which is disgraceful. But 4. 
one might class with these those who are com- 
pelled by their commanders to fight ; but they 
are worse, inasmuch as they do it, not from sliame, 
but from fear, and in order to avoid, not what is 
diflgracefiil, but what is painful ; for those who have 
power over them compel them, as Hector says, 
" Whomsoever I shall find crouching far away 
from the battle, it shall not be in his power to 
escape the dogs;"^ and those who issue orders to 
them, and strike them if they retreat, do the same ; 
also those who draw up their men in front of 
trenches, or things of the kind, for they all use 
compulsion :^ a man must therefore be brave, not 
because he is compelled, but because it is honourable 
to be so. 

Again, experience on every subject appears to be 5, 
a kind of courage ; whence even Socrates thought *Eic r^c 
that courage was a science.^ Now some people are ^/*^tip«ai« 
experienced in one thing, and some in another ; 
and in warlike matters soldiers are experienced ; 
for there seem to be many things in war new* to 

4 There are two passages in the Iliad which bear a close 
resemblance to this ; one in ^hich Agamemnon is speaking 
(U. ii. 391 ; Pope, 466) ; the other in which the words are 
Hector's (II. xv. 348 ; Pope, 396). 

' Herodotus, in his account of the battle of Thermopylae, 
(▼ii. 223), says that the Persian officers stood behind the troops 
with whips, and with them drove the men onwards against the 

* The moral theory of Socrates was, that as virtue was the 
only way to happiness, and no one could be willingly his own 
enemy, one could do wrong willingly. Hence, whoever 
did wrong did it through ignorance of right, and therefore 
▼irtne resolved itself into science {ItntrTriiiri), Courage, there- 
fore, being a virtue, would be, according to this theory, a 
science likewise 

' It is doubtful whether the reading here should be xaivd 
(things new), or Kivd (groundless terrors). The following 
expressions, — inania belli (Tacit. Hist. ii. 69), and scis enim 
did qnsdam traviK&t did item rd Ktvd tov voXkfiov (Cic. ad 
Attic. ▼. 20), support the latter reading. On the other hand^ 

To ARISTOTLE'S [book in. 

other men, witli which soldiers, more than any one 
else, have become acquainted. They therefore ap- 
pear courageous, because all other people are not 
aware of the nature of these things ; besides, 
through their experience they are better able to 
do, and not to suffer, and to protect themselves, 
and to wound others, because they are able to use 
dexterously their arms, and because they have such 
arms as are best adapted for offence and defence. 

6. In battle, therefore, they are like armed men 
against unarmed, and like professional wrestlers 
against amateurs ; for in conflicts of this kind, it is 
not the bravest men, but those who have the 
greatest strength, and who are in the best state of 

7. body, who make the best fighters. Now regular 
troops become cowardly when the danger sm^asses 
their experience, and when they are inferior in 
numbers or equipments ; for they are the first to 
fly ; but a native militia stands its ground, and 
dies, which happened in the Hermseum ;™ for to 
them flight is disgraceful, and death is preferable to 
such safety; while the others only expose them- 
selves to danger at the beguming, under the idea 
that they are superior ; but when they discover 
the true state of the case they fly, because they 
fear death more than disgrace. But this is not the 
character of the courageous man. 

8. Again, some people refer anger to courage ; for 
Ec ^vfiov, tiiose who are borne on by anger, like wild b^ists, 

against those who have wounded them, are thought 
to be courageous ; because courageous men have the 
appearance of being under the influence of anger ; 

vofiiffavTec oitK dWo n dvai r6 Kaivov rov iroKifioVj k, t. X. 
(Thucyd. iii. 30), is in favour of the former. And this, Came- 
rarius, Cardwell, and Micl^elet prefer. Bekker, however, 
adopts the latter reading. 

* The Greek scholiast infcrms us that the Hermsum was 
an open space in the city of Coronsea, in Boeotia. Here the 
Coronseans, assisted by some Boeotian auxiliary troops, fought 
an engagement with Nonarchus the Phocian, who had got 
possession of the citadel. In this battle the native troops 
stood their ground, and were all killed to a man ; the anzili* 
f^ties fled, on hearing of tfnd death of one of their generals. 

CHAP. viii.J ETHIC&. 77 

for anger is a thing whicli aboTe all others is apb 
to rush into dangers; whence Homer also says— 

" it infused strength into his soul." 
" it aroused his fury and rage." 
" he breathed stem fury thro' his nostrils." 
'* his blood boUed." ^ 

For all such signs as these seem to denote the 
rousing and awakening of anger. Now brave men $t 
act for the sake of what is honourable ; and anger 
co-operates with them; but beasts act from pain; 
for it is owing to their being struck or frightened ; 
at least when they happej» to be in a wood or a 
marsh, they do not attack. Now it is not courage 
in them to rush into danger, because they are im- 
pelled by pain or rage, without foreseeing anything 
of the danger they incur. Since, according to such 
an idea^ even asses would be brave when they are 
hungry ; for even when they are beaten they do 
not leave their pasture ; and adulterers also do 
many acts of daring through lust. Therefore those 
who from pain or rage are urged forward into 
danger are not brave. But that form of courage lo. 
which owes its origin to anger, appears to be more 
physical than the other forms ; but when deliberate 
preference and the proper motive are added, it 
becomes real courage. And men who are angry 
suffer pain, and ^»rhen they have have satisfied their 
vengeance they feel pleasure ; but those whose 
courage is owing to this feeling, are fond of fight- 
ing, but not really courageous ; for they do not act 
frx)m the motive of the honourable, nor according 
to the suggestion of reason, but in obedience to 
passion, and yet their courage bears a strong re- 
semblance to real courage. 

Nor yet are the sanguine courageous ; for they 11. 
feel confidence in dangers, because they have ^^ «*<X»«. 
been victorious many times and over many oppo- ^'^* 
nents; but they resemble the courageous, because 

^ The fourth quotation does not occur in either the Iliad or 
Odyssey, but in Theocritus, Id. x. Ib.—Mehelei. T4 
iroXiruc^, are forces composed of citizens (rroXirai). (N 
vrpmrUiTai, are hired aozUitries, o? mercenaries. 

78 ARISTOTLE'S [book hi. 

both are apt to feel confidence; hat courageous 
men are apt to feel confidence from the above-men- 
tioned causes^ and men of sanguine temperament 
because they believe themselves superior, and ex- 
pect that no evil will happen to them ; and this 
is the case with drunken men ; for they become 
sanguine ; but when things happen contrary to 

12. their expectation, they fly. Now it was said to be 
the part of the brave man to withstand everything 
which is or which appears to be terrible to man, 
because it is honourable to do so, and disgraceful 

13. not to do so. And therefore, also, it appears to be 
characteristic of a brave man to be fearless and 
imperturbable in cases of sudden danger, rather 
than in those which are previously expected ; for it 
arises more from habit, and less from preparation ; 
for in the case of things previously expected, a 
man might prefer them from calculation and 
reason, but in things unexpeoted, from habit. 

' 14. Again the ignorant appear courageous, and are 
'E5 «y- not for removed from the sanguine ; but they are 
voiac, worse, inasmuch as they make no estimate at all 
of the danger, whilst the others do ; for which rea- 
15. son they stand their ground for awhile. But men 
who have been deceived fly, as soon as they dis- 
cover that the case is different from what they 
suspected ; as was the case with the Argives when 
they fell among the Lacedaemonians, mistakii^ 
them for Sicyonians.^ We have now given the 
character of t^e really brave, and of those who are 
only apparently so. 


Of certain features peculiar to Courage, 

1. But though courage is conversant with confidence 
Courage ^^^j f^^ j^ jg j^q^ equally conversant with both, 

^limYer- ^^^ ^^^ more to do with fearful things : for he who 

Mftnt with » See the Hellenics of Xenophon, Book VI. c. iy. ace 10. 


in these :ases is imdisturbed, and wjlo feels as lie itottpd 
ought in them, is more truly brave than he who ^^^^^ 
feels as he ought on subjects of confidence. Now ^^ ***• 
men are called brave for bearing painful things ; it is pain- 
and hence it follows also that courage is attended ful^ and 
with pain, and is justly praised ; for it is more diffi- ™ore diffi- 
cult to bear painful things than to abstain from ^ t^T' 
pleasant things.* Not but that the end in courage tempe- 
is pleasant; but it is kept out of sight by the ac- ranee, 
companying circumstances : just as is the case in 3. 
the gymnastic exercises ; for, to pugilists, the end 
for which they act, namely, the crown and the ho- 
nours, is pleasant ; but the being beaten is painM, 
at least, j£ they are made of fiesh, and all toil is 
painful j and because the painM circumstances are 
munerous, the motive, which is a small matter, 
appears to have nothing pleasant in it. 

Now, if in the case of courage this be equally 4, Feeling 
true, death and wounds will be painful to the brave pain will 
man, and against his will ; but he will bear them ^^^ «»- 
because it is honourable to do so, and because it is ^^^ * 
disgraceful not to do so. And in proportion as he ooward. 
ia nearer the possession of all virtue and happiness, 5. 
he will be more pained at death ; for to such a man 
as this, more than to any other, it is worth while 
to live, and he wiU knowingly be deprived of the 
greatesb goods : and this is painful ; but he is not 
the less brave ; but perhaps he is even more brave, 
because in preference to these advantages he chooses g nni «^' 
the honour to be obtained in war. Consequently, it is ivipydv ii 
not possible to energize pleasantly in the case of all not possi- 
the virtues, except so fisKr as that they attain to their ble in all 
end. And perhaps there is no reason why those J~® '"'' 
soldiers who are not of this character, but are less 7^ 
brave, and have no other good quality, should not Merce- 
be the best fighters: for these men are leady to nary sol- 
ace dangers and hazard life for the chance '*f great ^^"g^' 
profit. Of courage, therefore, let so much have g^ 

* Because pain is sharper and more bitter than tlie mefe 
won of pleasure. 

80 ARISTOTLE'S [book hi. 

been said; but it is not difficult, from what lias 
been said, to comprehend, in outline, at least, what 
t is. 

Cy Temperance and Intemperance, 

1. But, after this, let us speak of temperance ; for 
Why cou- these two, courage and temperance, seem to be the 
rage and virtues of the irrational parts of the souL Now, we 
are first have said that temperance is a mean state on the 
considered, subject of pleasures ; for it has not the same, but 
Tempe- less connection with pains ; and with the same iu- 
rance is temperance appears to be conversant likewise. But 
y^J' ^ ' let us now distinguish the kinds of pleasures which 

are the subject of it. 

2. Let pleasures be divided into those of the soul. 
Pleasures and those of the body ; as, for example, the love ot 

^^ tal *"*° honour, the love of learning ; for, in both these cases. 

and corpo- ^ ^®^ takes pleasure in that which he is apt to love, 

real. while his body feels nothing, but rather his mtellect ; 

Mental are but those who have to do with pleasures of this kind 

h^^ °^ /fe *^® neither called temperate nor intemperate. Nor 

' 3] are those called temperate nor intemperate who 

have to do with the other pleasures which do not 

belong to the body ; for, as to those who are fond 

of fables, and telling long stories, and those who pass 

their days idly in indifferent occupations, we call 

them triflers, but not intemperate; nor yet do we 

call those intemperate who are too much grieved 

at the loss of money or friends. 

4. Temperance must therefore belong to bodilj 
Cor^real pleasures ; but not to all even of these. For those 
54/tg, ^^^ ^'^'^ delighted at the pleasures derived from 

sight, as with colour, and form, and painting, are 
neither called temperate nor intemperate, and jet 
it would seem to be possible for a man to bo 

5. pleased even with these as they ought, or too much, 
Affov. or too little. The same thing holds good in caaeB 


of hearing ; for ixO person calls tliose who are ex- 
travagantly delighted with songs or acting intem- 
perate, nor does he call those who take jiroper 
pleasure in them temperate ; nor yet in cases of G. ifffio, 
Bmell, except accidentaUy ;y for we do not call those 
who are pleased with the smell of fruit, or roses, or 
aromatic odours, intemperate, but rather those who 
deUght in the smell of perfiimes and viands; for 
the intemperate are pleased with those, because by 
them they are put in mind of the objects of their 
desire. And one might see even others besides 7. 
intemperate people, who when hungry take delight 
in the smell of meat ; but taking delight in these 
things is a mark of the intemperate man, for to him 
these things are objects of desire. But even other 9* 
animals perceive no pleasure through the medium 
of these senses, except accidentally ; for dogs do not 
take delight in the smell of hares, but Lq eating 
them, although the smell caused the sensation. Nei- 
ther does the lion feel pleasure in the lowing of an 
ox, but in eating it ; but he perceived from the low- 
ing that the ox was near, and therefore he appeal^ 
to be pleased at this ; and likewise he is not de- 
lighted at merely seeing or finding a stag or wild 
goat, but because he will get food. Therefore tem- 9. 
perance and intemperance belong to those pleasures 
in which other animals participate; whence they 
appear slavish and brutal ; and these are touch and 
taste. Now they seem to have little or nothing 10. ycD(rtc, 
to do with taste ; for to taste belongs the judging ^^h which 
of flavours : as those who try wines do, and those ^®™P®; 
who prepare sauces ; but the intemperate do not but littl* 
take much or indeed any pleasure in these flavours, conver- 
but only in the enjoyment, which is caused en- mj*** 
tirely by means of touch, and which is felt in meat, 
in drink, and in venereal pleasures. Wherefore 11. d^r), 

Philoxenus, the son of Eryxis, a glutton, wished with which 

it is chi(fi) 

' Because neither the gratification of sight, nor smell, nor conv«t- 
bearing, is the final cause to animals, but the satisfying hun- ^^^^* 
ger, the means of doing which are announced hy the senses. 
Compare Horn. Iliad, iii. 23. — Michelet, 


91 ARISIOTLE'^S \tinoK \n, 

that he had' a throat longer than a orane^s ; .because 
he was pleased with touch, the most common of 
senses, and the one to which intemperance belongs ; 
and it would appear justly to be deserving of 
reproach, since it exists in us, not so far ibrth as we 
12. are men, but so far forth as we are animals. Kow, 
to delight in such things as these, and to be better 
pleased with them than anything else, is brutal; 
for the most liberal of the pleasures of touch are 
not included, those, namely, which arise from frio- 
tion and warmth in the gynmastic exercises; for 
the touch in which the intemperate man takea 
pleasure belongs not to the whole body, but to 
particular parts of it. 

Different kinds qf Desires, 

1. But of desires, some appear to be common, and 

E«rtOvfiuu others peculiar and acquired ; as, for example, the 

are two- desire of food is natural ; for every man desires, when 

^""^^ • 2. l^iii^gry> °^eat or drink, or sometimes both ; and a 

Koivol ; in young man in his prime, Homer says, desires the 

these error nuptial couch ; but it is not every man who feels 

IS rare. j^^ qj. j^^^ desire, nor db all feel the same. 

Therefore this appears to be peculiarly our own ; 

not but that it has something natural in it, for 

different things are pleasant to different people, and 

some things are more pleasant universally than 

others which might be selected at random. In the 

natural desires, then, few err, and only on one side^ 

that of excess ; for to eat or drink anything till a 

man be overfilled is exceeding the natural desire in 

quantity ; for the o'oject of natural desire is the 

satisfaction of our wants. Therefore these are 

called belly gods, because they satisfy their wants 

more than they ought : people of excessively slavish 

^mt. 3. dispositions are apt to do this. But in the case of 

Errors fre- peculiar pleasures many people err, and frequently ; 


for jjeopie who are called lovers of these things, 
are so called either from being pleased with im- 
proper objects, or in improper degree, or as the 
vulgar are, or in an improper manner, or at an 
improper time; but intemperate persons are in 
the excess in all these particulars; for they are 
pleased with some things that ought not to please 
them, because they are hateful ; and if any of these 
things are proper objects of delight, they are de- 
lighted vnth them either more than they ought, 
or as the vulgar are. 

It is dear, therefore, that excess in pleasures is <■* 
intemperance, and blameable. But as to pains, a Courage 
man is not, as in the case of courage, called tern- ^^iim " 
perate for bearing them, nor intemperate for not differ as tt 
bearing them ; but a man is called intemperate for pains, 
feeling more pain than he ought at not obtaining 
pleasant things; (so the pleasure is the cause 
of the pain ;) but the temperate man is called so 
from not feeling pain at the absence of and the 
abstaining from pleasure. Now, the intemperate 5. 
man desires all things which are pleasant, or those Intempe- 
which are most so, and is led by his desire to choose "*« ^^^ 
the:so things in preference to others ; for which 
reason he feels pain both on account of his failure 
in obtaining, and his desire to obtain ; for desire is 
accompanied by pain ; but it seems absurd to be 
pained through pleasure. 

But there are, in fact, none who fall short on the 6* 
subject of pleasure, and who delight less than they The defect 
ought in it ; for such insensibility is not natural to gpg^^ ^^ 
man ; for all other animals discriminate between pleasure 
the things which they eat, and like some, and dis- acver 
like others. But if any one thinks nothing plesr ^'^"'^^* 
sant^ and sees no difference between one thing and 
anoUier, he would scarcely be £ man ; but this 
character has no name, because it is never found. 

But the temperate man is in the mean in these 7* 
matters ; for he is not pleased, but rather annoyed, "^^ **"*" 
at the principal pleasures of the intemperate man ; dcMrib^ 
nor is he pleased with any improper objects, nor 


84 ARISTOTLE'S [book in. 

exoessdvely with anything ; nor is he pained at their 
absence ; nor does he feel desire, except in modera- 
tion, nor more than he ought, nor when he ought 
g, not, nor in any case improperly. But he feels 
moderate and proper desire for all those pleasant 
things which conduce to health, or a sound habit of 
body ; and he feels the same desu:^ for those other 
pleasures which do not hinder these, which are not 
contrary to the honourable, nor beyond his means : 
for he who feels otherw4 sets too high a price 
upon such pleasures. But this is not the character 
of the temperate man ; but he feels them according 
to the suggestions of right reason. 

That Intemperance appears more Voluntary than Cowardice, 

!• But intemperance seems more voluntary than cow- 

wnyin- ardice : for one arises from pleasure, and the other 
temperance « , i» -l* -l • x t. V j .-i 

is more from pam j one of which is to be chosen, and the 

voluntary other to be avoided. And pam puts a man beside 
than himself, and disturbs his natural character j whereas 

cowardice, pleasure has no such effect. It is, therefore, more 
voluntary, and for this reason more deserving of 
reproach ; for it is easier to become accustomed to 
resist pleasures, because they frequently occur in 
life ; and in forming the habits there is no danger ; 
but the case of thmgs formidable is just the con- 
2. And it would appear that cowardice is not 
equally voluntary in the particular acts ; for cow- 
ardice itself is not painful; but the particular 
circumstances through pain put a man b^de him- 
self, and cause him to throw away his arms, and to 
do other disgraceful things ; and therefore it appearis 
8. to be compulsory. In the case, however, of the 
intemperate man, on the contrary, his particular 
acts are voluntary ; for they are committed in obe« 


dience to Ms lusts and desires ; but the wliole habit 
is less voluntary ; for no one desires to be intempe- 
rate. We apply the term intemperance to children's 4. 
faults also : for there is some resemblance between Analogy 
the two cases ; but which use of the word is derived )^^^. 
from the other, matters not for our present purpose. f^Z. 
But it is evident that the latter meaning was derived gically un* 
from the former ; and the metaphor seems to be by chastened- 
no means a bad one : for whatever desires those f^^h ^ 
things which are disgraceful, and is apt to increase gf children, 
much, requires chastisement ; and this is especially 
the case with desires and children ; for children 
live in obedience to desire, and in them the desire 
of pleasure is excessive. If, therefore, it is not 5. 
obedient, and subject to rule, it will increase greatly; ^^^J ^®- 
for the desire of .pleasure is insatiable, and attacks thedesSes 
the foolish man on all sides ; and the indulgence of 
desire increases the temper which is con^rerual to it, 
and if the desires are. ^eat and strong^ey expel 
reason also. Hence it is necessary that they should be 6. 
moderate and few, and not at all opposed to reason : 
and this state is what we call obedient and disci- 
plined ; for as a child ought to live in obedience to 
the orders of his master, so ought that part of the 
soul which contains the desires, to be in obedience 
to reason. It is therefore necessary for that part 7. 
of the soul of the temperate man which contains 
the desires, to be in harmony with reason; for 
the honourable is the mark at which both aim ; 
and the temperate man desires what he ought, and 
as he ought, and when he ought ; and thus reason 
also enjoins. Let this suffice, therefore^ on the 
mih\wt. of tamnemnoo. 



Of lAberality end miberaliiy. 

1. Lei ns next speak of liberality. Now it appears to 
libenlitj be a mean on the subject of possessions ; fot the 
defined. liberal man is praised, not for matters which re- 
late to war, nor for those in which the temperate 
character is exhibited, nor yet for his judgment^ but 
in respect to the giving and receiving of property ; 
and more in giving than receiving. But by pro- 
perty we mean everythiug, of which the value is 

2. measured by money. Kow, the excess and defect 
The ex- on the subject of property are prodigality and 
tremes are iUiberality : the term illiberality we always attach 
folTdT" *° tl'ose vho are more anxious than they ought 
with other about money ; but that of prodigality we sometimes 
vices. use in a complex sense, and attach it to intem- 
perate people, for we call those who are inconti- 
nent, and profuse in their expenditure for purposes 
of intemperance, prodigal ; therefore they seem to 
be the most wicked, for they have many vices at 

3. once. Now, they are not properly so called, for the 
me^aning of the word prodigal is the man who has 
one single vice, namely, that of wasting his fortune ; 
for the man who is ruined by his own means is 
prodigal, and the waste of property appears to be a 
sort of ruining one's self, since life is supported by 
means of property. This is the sense, therefore^ 
that we attach to prodigality. But it is possible 
to make a good and bad use of everything which 
has use. Now, money is one of the usefol things ; 
and that man makes the best use of everythmg 
who possesses the virtue which relfttes to it, and. 



1, }ie who possesses the viiiae that relates 
to monej 'will make the best nee of it, and the 
Assessor of it is the liberal man. 

But spending and giving seem to bo the use of ■!. 
money, and receiving and taking care of it are more ^v^ 
properly the method of acquiring It ; hence it is gj,^^^ 
more the part of tke liberal man to give to proper [a giving 
objects tliau lo receive from proper persona, or to than re- 
abatoin from receiving irom improper persona ; for oeiving- 
it belongs more to the virtue of liberality to do than 
to receive good, and to do what ia honourable than 
to abet^n from doing what is disgraceful. And it 5. 
is clear that doing what ia good and honourable 
belongs to giving, and that receiving good and ab- 
staiiuog from doing what is disgraceiiil, belongs to 
receiving ; and thanks ni'e bestowed on the giver, 
and not on him who abstains from receiving, and 
praise still more so ; and abstaining from receiving 
is more easy than giving, for men are leas disposed to 

E've what is their own than not to take what be- 
nga to another ; and givers are called liberal, while 
those who abstain, from receiving are not praised 
fiw liberality, but nevertheless they are praised for 
insticQ } but those who receive are not praised at olL 
Bat liberal men are more beloved tlW any others, 
for they are usefiil, and their URtfiilness consists in 

But actions according to virtue are honouraUe, 6. 
and arc done for the sake of the honourable ; the Tho mn- 
libeial man, therefore, will give for the sake of^^l^^o^ 
the honourable, and will give properly, for he will [jberajty. 
give to proper objects, in proper quantities, at pro- 
per times; and his giving wiU have all the other 
quaMoations of right giving, and he will do this 
pleasantly and without pain ; for that wliich is done 
according to virtue is pleasant, or without pain, and 
by no means annoying to the doer. But he who 7. 
gives to improper objects, and not for the sake of 
the honourable, is not to be called Uberal, but some- 
thing else ; nor yet he who gives with pain, for h« 
would prefer the money to the perlbrmance of au 

88 ARISTOTLE'S [book it. 

honourable action, and this is not the part of a libe- 

8. ral man. Nor yet will the liberal man receive from 
Requi- improper persons, for such receiving is not charac- 
th^i b ral ^^^^^^ ^^ him who estimates things at iJieir propei 

eceiver. value ; nor would he be fond of asking, for it is not 
like a benefactor, readily to allow himself to be be- 
nefited ; but he will receive from proper sources ; 
for instance, from his own possessions ; not because 
it is honourable, but because it is necessary, in order 
that he may have something to give ; nor will he 
be careless of his own fortune, because he hopes by 
means of it to be of use to others ; nor will he give 
at random to anybody, in order that he may have 
something to give to proper objects and in cases 
where it is honourable to do so. 

9. It is characteristic of the liberal man to be pro- 
Requisites fose and lavish in giving, so as to leave but little 
for the £^j, himself, for it is characteristic of him not to look 
giver. ^^ ^ ^^^ interest. But the term liberality is ap- 
plied in proportion to a man's fortune, for the liberal 
consists not in the quantity of the things given, 
but in the habit of the giver j and this habit gives 
according to the means of the giver. And there is 
nothing to hinder the man whose gifts are smaller 
being more liberal, provided he gives from smaller 

10^ means. But those who have not been the makers 

Those of their own fortune, but have received it by in- 

who inherit heritance, are thought to be more liberal, for they 

wealth the g^g inexperienced in want, and all men love their own 

liberal. productions most, as parents and poets. But it is 

not easy for the liberal man to be rich, since he is not 

apt to receive or to take care of money, but rather 

to give it away, and to be careless of it for its own 

sake, and only to care for it for the sake of giving 

11. away. And for this reason people upbraid fortune, 

because those who are most deserving of wealth are 

the least wealthy. But this happens not without 

reason, for it is impossible for a man to have money 

who takes no pains about getting it, as is the case 

in other things. 

Liberal 12. Y®* *^® liberal man wiU not give to imptopet 

taAP. I.] ETHICS. 89 

persons, nor at improper times, and so forth, for man'dif- 
if he did, he would cease to act with liberality ; ferent 
and if he were to spend money upon these things, from *e 
he would have none to spend upon proper objects, ^-^1^ 
for, as has been observed, the man who spends 
according to his means, and upon proper objects, is 
liberal, but he who is in the excess is prodigal. For Kings 
this reason we do not call kings prodigal, for it cannot be 
does not appear easy to exceed the greatness of prodigals, 
their possessions in ^fts and expenditure. 

Liberality, therefore, being a mean state on the 13, 
subject of giving and receiving money, the liberal 
man will give and expend upon proper objects, and 
in proper quantities, in small and great matters 
alike^ and this he will do with plea-sure ; and he will Liberal 
receive from proper sources, and in proper quanti- ^^^ ^- 
ties j for, since the virtue of liberality is a mean state ^ ^^u 
it both giving and receiving, he will in both cases prodieal in 
act as he ought ; for proper receiving is naturaUy recei^ng. 
consequent upon proper giving, and improper re- 
ceiving is the contrary. Habits, therefore, which 
are naturally consequent upon each other are pro- 
duced together in the same person, but those that 
are conti*ary clearly cannot. But if it should happen 14, 
to the libexil man to spend in a manner inconsistent When and 
with propriety and what is honourable, he will feel ^9^ 'J^® 
pain, but only moderately and as he ought, for it is ^ei pam. 
characteristic of virtue to feel pleasure and pain at 
proper objects, and in a proper manner. And the 12. 
Hberal man is ready to share his money with others ; 
for, from his setting no value on it, he is liable to 
be dealt with unjustly, and he is more annoyed at 
not spending anything that he ought to have spent, 
than pained at having spent what he ought not ; 
and he is no friend of Simonides.^ But the prodigal 13. 
man even in these cases acts wrongly, for he neither 
feels pleasure nor pain, where he ought nor as 
he ought. But it will be more clear to us as we 

* The poet Simonides is generally accased of avarice. Com* 
pare Rhct. Book III. ch. ii 

90 iRISTOTLE'S T^ok ir. 

14. But we "have said that prodigality and illiberalit j 
are the excess and the defect, and that they are 
conversant with two things, giving and receiving, 
Frodigal- for we indude spending under giving. Prodigality, 
Ity and il- therefore, exceeds in giving, and not receiving, and 
d«&nS ^^^ short in receiving ; but illiberality is deficient 
in giving, but excessive in receiving, but only in 
cases of small expenditure. Both the characteristics 
of prodigality, therefore, are seldom found in the 
same person ; for it is not easy for a person who 
receives from nobody to give to everybody, for their 
means soon &il private persons who give, and these 
15' are the very persons who seem to be prodigal. This 
y^ rST*" ^^^^^'•"'cter now would seem considerably better than 
^^r the illiberal one ; for he is easily to be cured by age 
than illi- and by want, and is able to arrive at the mean ; for 
berality. he has the qualifications of the liberal man ; for 
he both gives and abstains fix)m receiving, but in 
neither instance as he ought, nor well. If, there- 
fore, he could be accustomed to do this, or could 
change his conduct in any other manner, he would 
be liberal, for he will then give to proper objects, 
and will not receive from improper sources ; and for 
this reason he does not seem to be bad in moral 
character, for it is not the mark of a wicked or an 
ungenerous man to be excessive in giving and not 
receiving, but rather of a fooL But lie who is in 
this manner prodigal seems far better than the illi- 
beral man, not only on accoimt of the reasons already 
stated, but also because he benefits many people, 
while the other benefits nobody, not even himself 
16. But the majority of prodigals, as has been eitated, 
^ther gjgQ receive from improper sources, and are in 

isiic* of " *^ respect illiberal. Now, they become fond of 
prodigality, receiving, because they wish to spend, and are not 
able to do it easily, for their means soon fail them ; 
they are, therefore, compelled to get supplies from 
some other quarter, and at the same time, owing to 
their not caring for the honourable, they receive 
without scruple from any person they can ; for they 
are anxious to give, and the liow or the whence they 


get the money matters not to them.'* Therefora ij^ 
their gifts are not liberal, for they are not honour- 
able, nor dene for the sake of the honourable, nor 
as they ought to be done j but sometimes they 
make men rich «ho deserve to be poor, and will 
give to men of virtuous characteis nothing, and to 
flatterers, or those who provide them with any 
other pleasure, much. Hence the generality of pro- ig, 
digals are intemperate also; for, spending money 
carelessly, they are expensive also in acts of in- 
temperance, and, because they do not live with a 
view to the honourable, they fall away towards 
pjeasures. The prodigal, therefore, if he be without 
the guidance of a master, turns aside to these vices ; 
but if he happen to be taken care of, he may pos- 
sibly arrive at the mean, and at propriety. 

But illiberality is incurable, for old age and im- jg^ 
bedlity of every kind seem to make men illiberal, IlUbera- 
and it is more congenial to hviman nature than pro- Hty i« in. 
digality ; for the generality of mankind are fond of ^^'"^l®* 
money rather than of giving, and it extends very 
widely, and has many forms, for there appear to v«rinn« 
be m^j modes of illiberality ; for as it co^ts in l^ol 
two things, the defect of giving, and the excess illiberality 
of receiving, it does not exist in all persons entire, 
but is sometimes divided ; and some exceed in re- 
ceiving, and others fall short in giving. For those 20. 
who go by the names of parsimonious, stingy, and 0€t5wXot 
niggardly, all Ml short in giving ; but do not desire 7^*^XPo« 
what belongs to another, nor do they wish to '^''* *'^'^* 
receive, some of them from a certain fairness of 
character, and caution lest they commit a base 
action ; for some people seem to take care of 
their money, or at least say that they do, in order 
that they may never be compeUed to commit a 21 • 
disgraceful action. Of these alsc is the cummin- ^*'/*<*'<>- 

^ How often do we find the most profitse and extravagant 
persons guilty of the most illiberal actions, and least scm- 
puloas as to the means of getting money ! This union of the 
two extremes in the same individual is exemplified in the 
eh 11 s'cter of Catiline, whom Sallust describes as being '* Alieni 
•ppeteus, sai profusus.'' 

n ARISTOTLE'S [book it. 

splitter, and every one of uiinilar du^racter, and he 
derives Lis name from being in the excess of unwil- 
lingness to give. Others, again, through fear abstain 
from other persons' property, considering it diflicult 
for them to take what belongs to other people, with- 
out other people taking theirs. They therefore aie 

22. satisfied neither to receive nor give. Again, in re- 
Uopvo^oa- ceiving, some are excessive in receiving from any 
-ocicrrai. source, and any thing ; those, for instance, who ex- 
ercise illiberal professions, and brothel-keepers, and 
all persons of this kind, and usurers, and those who 
lend small sums at high interest ; for all these re- 
ceive from improper sources, and in improper quan- 

23. tities. And the love of base gain appears to be 
common to them all; for they all submit to re- 
proach for the sake of gain, and even for small 
gain. For we do not call those illiberal who receive 
great things from improper sources, as tyrants, who 
lay waste cities, and pillage temples, but rather 
we call them wicked, impious, and unjust. But the 

24. gamester, the clothes-stealer, and the robber, are of 
KvtiVTrjg, the illiberal class, for they are fond of base gain ; 
Xwiro^tJ- for^ for the sake of gain, both of them ply their 
^?&. ^' *^®s, and incur reproach: Clothes-stealers and 

robbers submit to the greatest dangers for the sake 
of the advantage they gain, and gamesters gain from 

25. their friends, to whom they ought to give. Both, 
therefore, are lovers of base gain, in that they desire 
to gain from sources whence they ought not ; and 
all such modes of receiving are illiberal "With 
reason, therefore, is iUiberality said to be contrary 
to liberality ; for not only is it a greater evil than 
prodigality, but also men are more apt to err on this 
side than on the side of the prodigality before men- 
tioned. Respecting liberality, therefore, and the 
vices which are opposed to it, let thus mnch have 
been said. 


CHAP. n. 

Of Magnificenze and Meanneu. 

But it would seem tliat the subject of magnificence 1. 
is the next to be discussed ; for this likewise is a vir- H<^^ . 
tue on the subject of money ; but it does not, Hke ™nce'dif . 
liberality, extend to all acts that pertain to money, f^rs from 
but only those which involve great expenditure, liberality. 
And in these it surpasses HberaUty in greatness ; 
for, as its name signifies, it is appropriate expendi- 
ture in great matters ; but greatness is a relative 
term ; for the expense of the office of trierarch 
and of the chief of a sacred embassy^ is not the 
same. Propriety therefore depends upon the rela- 2. 
tion of the expense to the expender ; the object of ^^ ^^^^ 
the expense j and the quantity expended. But he F0P"f *y 
who in trifling, or in moderate matters, spends with ^"P^"^'' 
propriety, is not called magnificent ; as in the line, 
*' I often gave to the wandering beggar ;"^ but 
he who expends with propriety in great matters 
is so called ; for the magnificent man is liberal : 
but it does not follow any more for that, that the 
Hberal man should be magnificent. Of this habit 3. 
the defect is called meanness ; the excess, bad taste 
and vulgar profiision,^ and all other names which 
are applied to excess, not on proper, but improper 
objects. But we will speak of them hereafter. 

The magnificent man resembles one who pos- 4. 
sesses knowledge, for he is able to discover what is How 

^ The Tpifipdpxoi were those rich citizens at Athens, on 
whom was imposed the public burden of furnishing and equip- 
ping a trireme ; the ^sojpoi were those who were sent on any 
■embassy for sacred purposes, such as to consult an oracle, or 
attend a solemn meeting, &c. On the Xsirovpyiai of the 
Athenians, see Dr. Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities. 

<* See Hom. Odyss. xvii. 420. 

* The Greek word is pavavcria. This vice is called in the 
Magn. Mor. i. 27^ (xaXaKutveXa ; and in Eudem. Etli. ii. 3, 


94 ARISTOTLE'S [i vok it. 

magnifi- appropriate, and to incur great expense in accor- 
cence daiice with it ; for, as we said in the beginning, the 

"J^^, habit is defined by the energies, and by the acts of 
^ ' which it is the habit. The expenses of the magni- 

ficent man, therefore, are great and appropriate ; 
such also are his works ; for so will his expense be 
great, and be appropriate to his work. So that the 
work ought to be worthy of the expense, and the 
expense worthy, or even more than worthy, of the 

5. work. Now the magnificent man will incur such 
Motive. expenses for the sake of the honourable ; for this 

is common to all the virtues j and besides, he will 
do it with pleasure and with profiiseness ; for exact 
accuracy is mean ; and he would be more likely to 
consider how he could do the thing most beautiAdly 
or most appropriately, than how much it woidd 
cost, or how he might do it at the smallest price. 

6. Consequently the magnificent man must necessarily 
be liberal also ; for the liberal man will spend 
what he ought, and as he ought ; but in these cases 
greatness is characteristic of the magnificent man. 
Since, then, liberality belongs to these subjects, mag- 
nificence will, even with the same expense, make its 
work more magnificent ; for the excellence of a 
possession and a work is difierent ; for a possession 
is most excellent when it is of the greatest value, 
and would fetch most money, as gold ; but a work, 
when it is great and honourable ; for the contem- 

J piation of a work like this causes admiration, and 

Pablic the magnificent causes admiration. The excellence 

magnlfi. of a work, therefore, is magnificence in greatness. 

cence. Now all those things which we call honourable, 

are included under the term e2q)enses, as, for 

example, those that relate to the gods, offerings, 

temples, and sacrifices; likewise all those that 

relate to anything divine ; and those which, being 

done for the public good, are objects of laudable 

ambition ; as if men think that a person ought to 

be splendid in the offices of choragus, or trierarch, 

or public entertainer. But in all casesf, as has been 

said, there must be a reference to the rank and 

CHAP, ii.j ETHICS. 95 

property of the person who expends ; for the ex- 
pense must have proper relation to these things. 
«nd not only be appropriate to the work, but to the 
doer of the work sJso. Hence a poor man cannot g. 
be magnificent, for he has not property from which The poor 
he can expend large sums with propriety ; and the man cannot 
poor man who attempts it is a fool ; for it is incon- g^™^^" 
sistent with his rank, and with propriety; but 
excellence consists in doing it rightly. But magnifi- 9. 
cent actions become those, to whom magnificent pro- 
perty belongs previously, either by their own means, 
or their ancestors, or any with whom they are con- 
nected ; they also become the nobly bom, the 
&mous, and so on ; for all these have greatness and 
dignity. Such, then, is the character of the magni- 
ficent man as near as possible, and in such expenses 
is magnificence displayed ; for these are the greatest 
and most had in honour. 

But of private expenses, those are the most 10. 
magnificent which only happen for once ; as, for Private 
example, a wedding, and anything of that kind ; "^^SP**"* 
or anything in which the whole city, or the prind- *'^'^* 
pal people, take an interest, and those which relate 
to the reception and dismissal of strangers, and to 
honorary gifts and recompenses ; for the magnificent 
man is not inclined to spend upon himself but 
upon the public ; but gifts bear some resemblance 
to ofierings. It is also characteristic of the mag- 11. 
nificent man to fiimish his house in a manner be- 
coming his wealth ; for this is an ornament to him ; 
and to be more disposed to spend money on such 
works as are lasting ; for these are the most honour- 
able ; and in every case to attend to propriety ; for 
the same things are not suitable to gods and men, 
nor to a temple and a tomb. And in the case 12, 
of expenses, everything that is great in its kind, 
is magnificent, and that which is great in a great 
kind, is most magnificent ; and next to that, that 
which is great in another kind. And there v a 
difference between that which is great in the work, 
and that which is great in the expenditure ; for a 

^ ARISTOTLE'S [book iv. 

most beautiful ball or oil-bottle is ma^^aificent as a 
ffifb to a child, but the price of it is trifling and 
illiberal. Hence it is the part of the magnificent 
man to do what he does, of whatever description 
it be, magnificently ; for this is not easily sur- 
passed, and has a due reference to the expense. 
Such, then, is the character of the magnificent man. 

13. But he who is in excess, and is vulgarly profuse, 
BapavaoQ. is in excess, as we have said, in spending impro- 
perly ; for in small expenses he will spend larg(i 
sums, and be inconsistently splendid ; for instance, 
he will entertain his club-fellows with a marriage 
feast jf and when furnishing a chorus for a comedy, 
will introduce a purple robe into the parode, s like 
the Megareans ; and all this he will do, not for the 
sake of the honourable, but to display his wealth, 
imagining that by this means he shaU be admired '; 
and where he ought to spend much, he will spend 
little, and where he ought to spend Uttle, much. 

14, But the mean man in all cases will be in the 
MticpoTToe- defect, and though he may have spent very large 
'"'f • sums, will spoil the beauty of the whole for the 

sake of a trifle ; and whatever he does, he will do 
with hesitation, and will calculate how to spend 
least money ; and this he will do in a complaining 
spirit, and will always think that he does more 
than he has occasion to do. These two habits 
are vices ; nevertheless they do not bring reproach 
upon those guilty of them, from their neither being 
hurtful to their neighbour, nor very disgraceful to 

' See Horn. Odyss. i. 225. 

** But say, you jovial troop so gaily dress'd, 
. Is this a bridal or a friendly feast ? '* 
9 The vdpodoe was the first speech of the whole chorus in 
a Greek tragedy. It was so named as being the passage of the 
chorus-song, sung whilst it was adyancing to its proper place 
in the orchestra, and therefore in anapaestic or marching verse. 
The araaitiov was chanted by the chorus when standing in ita 
proper position. See Smith's Diet Antiq. p. 983. 

B^^HAOMANiMrrT,* even from itavoiy name, appears to I, 

fee conTerBaat with great matters. First let us de- M«gnani 
tennine witli what kind of great matters. But it ^^Jj'" 
makes no difference whether we consider the habit, mBHo-, 
or the man who lifes according to the habit. Now, u,.^ 
the magnaoimons man appears to be he who, being nimoiu 
really worthy, estimates Ins own worth highly ; for idbd. 
Le who mates too low an estimate of it is a fool ; 
and no man who acta according to virtue can be a 
fool, nor devoid of sense. The character before- a. 
mentioned, therefore, is magnanimous ; for he whose 
worth is low, and who estimates it lowly, is a modest si^ptti,, 
man, but not a magnanimous one ; for magnani- 
mity belongs to greatness, just as beauty exists only 
with good steturo;' for httle persons may be pretty,, 
—and well proportioned, but cannot be beautifiJ. 
'pe who estimates his own worth highly, when in y 
aJity he is unworthy, is Tidn ; hut he who esti- XaDvof, 
more highly than he deserves, lb not in all 
1. He who estimates it less highly than 4. 
it deserves, is little-minded, whether his worth be 
great or moderate, or i^ when worth littlo, he esti- 
mates himself at less ; and the man. of great worth Miicp&ifn 
apijears espedally little-minded ; for what would he xoc 

^ Magnoidmity u described by Aristotle cannot be nm- 
■iBtent with [lie hnnulitf reqnircd by the Goapel. The Chric- 
ti«n ItnowB his niter nnworthineas in the sight of God, and 
therefore cannot form too low ao estimflte of his own worth. 
Ntiertheleu that there is such a virtne as Christian magna- 
nimity i> «b«ndBnt!y shown in the chsracter of St. Panl. The 
heatben rirtue of mognsnimity constituted n marked feature 
in the character of a TirtnoDS Atbenian, and was doubtless also, 
as Zell observes, a strone feature iu the character of Aristotle 

' The Grwki coTuidered a good stature a necessary chsnc- 
teristic of be»uty. — See the Rhetoric, I. v., also Horn. Odyw. 



CHAP, m 

Of MBgMnimity anil lAllle Mitidedafii 


iiave done if Lis worth had not been so great t 
^' The magnanimous man, therefore, in the greatness 
/ of his merits, is in the highest place ; but in his 
proper estimation of himself, in the mean ; for he 
estimates himself at the proper rate, while the 
others are in the excess and defect. If, there- 
fore, the magnanimous man, being worthy of great 
things, thinks himself so, and still more of the great* 
est things, his character must display itself upon 
some one subject in particular. 

6, Now, the term value is used with reference to 
external goods; and we must assume that to be 
of the greatest value which we award to the gods, 
and which men of eminence are most desirous of^ 
and which is the prize of the most honourable acts ; 
and such a thing as this is honour j^ for this is the 

Maimani- \ g^^^^^^ ^^ external goods. The magnanimous man^ 

mous man\therefore, acts with propriety on subjects of honour 

conTer- land dishonour. And, even without arguments to 

santwith prove the point, it seems that the magnanimous 

5^;-^ are concerned with honour, for great men esteem 

which is themselves worthy of honour more than anything- 

the great- else ; for it is accordiQg to their desert. But the 

est of ex- little-minded man is in the defect, both as regards 

^"?^ Ids own real merit and the magnanimous man's 

dignity ; but the vain man is in the excess as 

i*egards his own real merit, but is in the defect as 

regards that of the magnanimous man. 

7. The magnanimous man, if he ^ worthy of the 
The mag- highest honours, must be the best of men ; for the 
nanimous better man is always worthy of the greater honour, 
mim.*^°° and the best man of the greatest. The truly mag- 
nanimous man must therefore be a good man ; and 
it seemsf, that whatever is great in any virtue be> 
longs to the magnanimous character ; for it can in 
nowise be befitting the magnanimous man to swing 
his arms and run away^, nor to commit an act ol 

^ The word here translated honour is rt|i^, which signifies, 
not the abstract principle rb icaXdvt but honourable distinc- 
tion ; hence it is called an external good, for it is conftned on 
us by others. 

' The phrase in the original n-apaaihavra ^ivitv has the 




^^^rajnetice ; fot what could 'he the mutive to bam 
^^Voonduct to him to whom nothing is groat 1 And if 
^^" *e examine the particulars of the case, it "riU ap- 
pear ridictJous that the magnanimous man should 
not be a good man j and he could not even be de- 
serving of honour, ii' he were a bad man ; for honour 
is the prize of virtue, and is bestowed upon the good, i. 

Magnanimity, then, seems to be, as it were, a kind a, 
of ornament of the virtueB ; for it makes them Magnaiil. 

I greater, and cannot exist without them. And for ".'•! " . 

^^H this reason it is difficult to be really magnanimous ; ^pj^a^"^^ 
^^Bfbr it is impossible, without perfect excellence and 
^^H Eoodness. The magnanimous cbamcter, therefore, Tbe rang. 
^^H^lB principally displayed on the subject of honour nutinunu 
I and dishonour. And in the case of great instances "!"' ™"- 

of honour, bestowed by the good, he will be mode- JJ-tv",! 
rat«ly gratified, under the idea that he has ol>- gsrj lo 
^^_ t^ned what is his due, or oven less than he de- bonoun. 
^^L serves ; for no honour can be eqniv&lent to perfect 
^^m virtue. Not bnt that he wiU receive it, because 
^^B they have nothing greater to give him • but honour 
^^H from any other persons, and on the score of tribes, 
^^B.lie will utterly despise ; for these be does not de- 
^^H serve ; and likewise he wiU despise dishonour ; for 
^^V he cannot justly deserve it. 
^^^ The magnanimous character is, therefore, as has g. 

been said, prindpally concerned with honours ; not To *TCBlih 
bnt that in wealth and power, and sJl good and bad 
fortune, however it may coma to pass, be will behave 
with moderation ; and not be too much delighted 
at Bucceaa, nor too much grieved at feilure ; for he 
will not feel thus even at honour, though it is the 
greatest thing of all ; for power and wealth are 
eligible because of the honour they confer ; at any 
rate, those who possess them desire to be honoured 
on account of them. To him, therefore, by whom 
honour is lightly esteemed, nothing else can be im- 
portant; wherefore magnanimous men have the jn. 
^pearance of supercaliousneas. Instances of good Saarm 
n,m tignification as the Latin pi 

r very rapidly. 


100 AHISTOTLE'S [book it. 

jDontributes fortune also appear to contribute to nuignammity ; 

to m^[iia- £qy ^q nobly bom are thought worthy of honour, 
^* and those who possess power and wealth, for they 
surpass others ; and eveiything which is superior in 
goodness is more honourable. Hence, such things 
as these make men more magnanimous ; for by some 
11 people they are honoured. But in reality the good 
[ man alone is deserving of honour ; but he who has 
both is thought more worthy of honour ; but those 
who, without virtue, possess such good things as 
these, neither have any right to thmk themselves 
worthy of great things, nor are properly called mag- 
. nanimous ; for magnanimity cannot exist without 
\ perfect virtue. But those who possess these things 
become supercilious and insolent ; for without virtue 
it is difficult to bear good fortune with propriety ; 
and being unable to bear it, and thinking that 
they excel others, they despise them, while they 
thems^yes do anything, they please; for.tiiey inii- 
tate the magnanimous man, though they are not 
like him ; but this they do wherever they can. Ac- 
tions according to virtue they do not perform, but 
they despise others. But the magnammous man 
feels contempt justly; for he forms his opinions 
truly, but the others form theirs at random. 

12. '^e magnanimous maa neither shims nor is fond 
Af to of danger, because there are but few things which he 
courage- caj-es for ; but to great dangers he exposes himself 

and when he does run any risk, he is um^jaring of 
his life, thinking that life is not worth lomng oa 

13. some terms. He is disposed to bestow, but ashamed 
to receive benefits ; for the former is the part of a 

Astolibe. superior, the latter of an inferior; and he }b dis- 
laiity. posed to make a more liberal return for &ivouis; 
for thus the original giver will have incurred an ad- 
ditional obligation, and will have received a benefit. 
He is thought also to recollect those whoni he has 
benefited, but not those from whom he .has re- 
ceived benefits; for the receiver is iitfeiior to the 
giver : but the magnanimous man wishes to be 
\ superior and the benefits which he confers he hears 

OHAP. m.] ETHICS. 101 

of -with pleasure, but thosd wMcli lie receives with 
pain. Thetis therefore says nothing to Jupiter about 
thiebf nefits she has conferred upon him, nor do the Lii- 
cedsemonians to the Athenians, but only about those 
which they have received.^ Again,it is characteristic 14. 
of the magnanimous man to ask no favours, or very As to ask- 
few, of anybody, but to be willing to serve others ; ^"^ fevouw. 
and towards men of rank or fortune to be haughty 
in his demeanour, but to be moderate towards men 
of middle rank ; for to be superior to the former is 
difficult and honourable, but to be superior to the 
latter is easy j and among the former there is no- 
thing imgenerous in being haughty ; but to be so 
amongst persons of humble rank is bad taste, just . 
like making a show of strength to the weak. 

Another characteristic is, not to go in search of 15. 
honour, nor where others occupy the first places; As to seek, 
and to be inactive and slow, except where some ^°ff honoui 
great honour is to be gained, or some great work to 
be performed; and to be inclined to do but few 
things, but those great and distinguished. He must / 
also necessarily be open in his hatreds and his Mend- ' 
ships; for concealment is the part of a man who 
is afraid. He must care more for truth than for 16. 
opinion. He must speak and act openly ; for this ^^ ^ 
is characteristic of a man who despises others ; for ^ ' 
he is bold in speech, and therefore apt to despise 

^ See Horn. II. i. 503; where Thetis only hints at any 
benefits which she may have conferred on Jupiter, but does not 
dwell upon them at length or enumerate them. 

" If e'er, O father of the gods ! she said, 
My words could please thee, or my actions aid.'' 

Pope, i. 652. 
Callisthenes, who wrote a history (as we learn from Diodorus, 
xiv. 117) commencing from the peace of Artaxerxes, says that 
the. Lacedemonians, when invaded by the Thebans, sent for hid 
to Athens, and said that they willingly passed over the benefits 
which they had conferred on the Athenians, but remembered 
those the Athenians had conferred upon them. Xenophon, 
however (Hell. VI. v. 53), relates that they made mention of 
the good offices that they conferred upon each othep. It has 
been supposed by some that both these examples are instances 
of Aristotle's having quoted from memory, and thus having 
fallen into etror. 

IQt ARISTOTLE'S [book ir. 

others, and truth-teUing, except when he uses dia* 
simulation;^ but to the vulgar he ought dissemble. 
17. And he cannot live at the mil of another, ex^pt it 
As to be a friend ; for it is servile ; for which reason all 

friendship, flatterers are mercenary, and low-minded men are 
flatterers. He is not apt to admire ; for nothiog is 
18» great to him. He does not recollect injuries ; for 
manners accurate recollection, especially of injuries, is not 
ind con- characteristic of the magnanimous man ; but he ra- 
duct, t ther overlooks them. He is not fond of talking of 
\ people ; for he will neither speak of himself nor of 
anybody else ; for he does not care that he himself 
should be praised, nor that others should be blamed. 
He is not disposed to praise ; and therefore he does 
not And fault even with his enemies, except for the 
sake of wanton insult. He is by no means apt to com- 
plain or supplicate help in unavoidable or trifling cala- 
mities ; for to be so in such cases shows anxiety about 
them. He is apt to possess rather what is honourable 
r and unfruitful, than what is fruitful and useful ; for 

19. this shows more self-sufficiency. • The step of the 
Uitgaity&x magnanimous man is slow, his voice deep, and his 

language stately; for he who only feels anxiety 
about few things is not apt to be in a hurry ; and 
he who thinks highly of nothing is not vehement ; 
and ahiiUness and quickness of speaMng arise from 
these thmgs. This, therefore, is the character of 
the magnanimous man. 

20. He who is in the defect is little-minded ; he who 
Mtcpo^v- jg jjj ^i^Q excess is vain. But these do not seem to be 
**** vicious, for they are not evil-doers, but only in error ; 

for the little-minded man, though worthy of good 
things^ deprives himself of his deserts ; but yet he 
resembles one who has something vicious about him, 
frozD. his not thinking himself worthy of good things, 
and he seems ignorant of himself for otherwise he 

' "Rlpiav is a dissembler, one who says «es8 than he thinks^ 
and is opposed to iCKiiBiiQ, Etptavtia, dissimnhition, espe- 
cially an ignorance purposely affected to proroke or oonfbnmi 
an antagonist,— irony, used by Socrates against the Sophists. 
See Scott and Ldddeli's Lexicon. See anodier sense, in whick 
t'puveia if usod in the 7th chapter of this book. 


MAP. IV.] ETHICS. 108 

vould h&ve desiifd tliose things of which ho was 
nnrthy, eapecially as they are good things. Yet 
euch men as these aeem not to be foola, but rather 
idle. And Buch an opinion aeema to make tbem 
iroree ; for each man desires those things which are 
according to his deserts ; and they abstain eren from 
boaourable actions and customs, considering tbeut- 
selves unworthy; and in like manner from exter- 
nal goode. 

But vain men are foolish, and ignorant of them- 31. 
selves, aad this obviously; for, thinking them- ^'""•'W' 
Belvea wortby, they aapire to distinction, imd then 
are found out ; and they are fine in their dress, and 
their gestures, and so on ; and they wish thar 
good fortune to be known, and speak of it, hoping 
to be bonoured for it. But little-mindedness is 
more opposed to magnanimity than vanity, for it is 
oftener found, and is worse. Magnanimity, tbero- 
fore, as we have said, relates to great bonoiir. , 

0/ iht nameleis Virtm tcAich ii coHvermai kIIA tht detirt oj 

There eeems to bo another virtue conversant with 1. 
the same habit, as was stated in the earlier part of ^^ ^^^ 
our treatise," which would appear to bear the same J?."ue 
relation to magnanimity, which liberality does to coaiFr- 
maenifioence ; for both these have notbing to do «ant with 
witiiwhat is great, but dispose ua as we ought to be *""" l""- 
disposed towards what is moderate and small. And ""^"^ 
as m receiving and ^ving money there is a mean 
habit, on excess, and a defect ; so in the deaie of 
honourl also,thei'e is the "more and the less" than we 

• Sw Book II. di. <ii. 

' An ambigoily might resalt from the diffimiltj of distin- 

goiahing in English betweea ri taKiv aad ri/i^. The foriDer 

MtheibBtractedlyhanoarBbte, the morallf twautifol, — ia Latin, 

"boneatsm;" (he tatter ii honaunble diitiacCioB conferred 

u b; othcn. 

104 AKISTOTLE'S [book iv. 

' ought, as well »8 the proper aonrce, and the proper 

maimer; for we blame the lover of honour as desir- 
ing honour too much, and from improper sources ; 
and the man who is destitute of the love of honour, 
as one who does not deliberately prefer % to bo 
honoured even for honourable things ; and some- 
times we praise the lover of honour as manlj and 
noble ; at other times, him who is destitute of the 
love of honour, as moderate and modest j' as we 
^* said before. But it is clear, that as the expression, 
*^ lover of anything,^' is used in more senses than 
one, we do not use the term, lover of honour always 
with the same signification ; but when we praise 
him, we mean that he loves honour more than most 
men ; and when we blame him, that he loves it 
3. more than he ought. But since the mean state 
The ex- lias no^ name, the extremes seem to contend for 
trem^ap. ^^^ middle place, as hemg vacant ; but wherever 
cratend there are an excess and ' defect, there ia also a 
for the mean. And men desire honour both too much 
and too little, so that it is possible to desire it a» 
they ought. At any rate, this habit is praised, 
being a nameless mean state on the subject of 
honour. But compared with love of honour, it 
appears to be the absence of all love for it ; and 
compared with this, it appears to be love of honour. 
Compared with both, therefore, it in some sense has 
the nature of both ; and this seems to be the case 
with the other virtues also. But in this case the 
extremes seem opposed, because the mean has no 

4 JlpoaipsffiQ is translated throughout this work " deli- 
bei^te preference/' as expressing most literally the original. 
It implies preference, not from mete impulse, but on principle, 
as a matter of moral choice — as. the act of a moral being. 

' The word in the original is (tw^mv. Considered as a 
moral virtue, aut^poavvri signifies temperance, — the virtue, as 
Aristotle says, ^ <T(u^e( rrjv ^pivat which preserves tlie vigour 
of the intellect. Hero it signifies modesty, the virtus of a 
sober and well-regulatedmind. 

CHAP. T.} £THICS. 106 


Of Meekness and IrascibtKty. 

But meekness is a mean state on the subject of 1. 
angry feelings. But because the mean has no np^^rvc 
name, and we can scarcely say that the extremes 
have any, we give to the mean the name of 
meekness, though it decKnes towards the defect, 
which has no name. But the excess might be itg ez- 
called a species of irascibility ; for the passion is tremes. 
anger, and the things that cause it ar6 many and 
various. He, therefore, who feels anger on proper 2. 
occasions, at proper persons, and besides in a proper Charac- 
mamier, at proper times, and for a proper lei^h of teristictof 
time, is an object of praise. This character will ™®® 
therefore be the meek man, in the very points in 
which meekness is an object of praise ; for by the 
meek man we mean him who is undisturbed, and 
not carried away by passion, but who feels anget* 
according to the dictates of reason, on proper occa- 
sions, and for a proper length of time. But the 
meek man seems to err rather on the side of defect ; 
for he is not inclined to revenge, but rather to for- 
give. But the defect, whether it be a kind of 3. 
iQsensibility to anger, or whatever it be, is blamed; The defect, 
for those who do not feel anger in proper cases, 
are thought to be fools, as well as those who do 
not feel it iu the proper manner, nor at the proper 
time, nor at the proper persons ; for such an one 
seems to have no perception, nor sense of pain ; 
and from his insensibility to anger, he is not di^ 
posed to defend himself; but it is like a slave to 
endure insults offered to one's self, and to overlook 
them when offered to one's gelations. But the excess 4. 
takes place in all the categories ; for it is po^ble The exceaii 
to be angry with improper persons, on improper 
occasions, too much, too quickly, or too long ; yt;i 
all these circumstances are not united in the same 

a06 ARISTOTLE'S [book it 

person ; for it is impossible that they should be ; 
tor the evil destroys itself, and if entire, becomes 

5. Irascible men, therefore, are easily angered, with 
0,7tXoi. improper objects, on improper occasions, and too 

much; but their anger quickly ceases, and this is 
the best point in their character. And this is the 
case with them, because they do not restrain 
their anger, but retaliate openly and visibly, be- 
becaiise of their impetuosity, and then they be* 

6. come calm. The choleric, who are disposed to be 
Aicpoxo- angry with everything, and on every occasion, are 
^<>»' likewise in excess ; whence also they derive theii* 

7. name. But the bitter are difficult to be appeased, 
fTiK/Doi. and retain their anger a long time, for they repress 

their rage ; but there comes a cessation, when they 
have retaliated ; for revenge makes their anger 
cease, because it produces pleasure instead of the 
previous pain. But if they do not get revenge, they 
feel a weight of disappointment : for, owing to its 
not showing itself, no one reasons with them ; and 
there is need of time for a man to digest his anger 
within him.* Persons of this character are very 
troublesome to themselves, and to their best Mends. 

8. But we call those persons ill-tempered who 
KaXtvoi. feel anger on improper occasions^ too much, or 

too long, and who do not become reconciled with- 
Irasdbi- ^^^ revenge or punishment. But we consider the 
lity is excess to be more opposite to the mean than the 
™°^op- defect, for it occurs more frequently ; for revenge is 
^oat *° niore natural to man than meekness : and the ill- 
than the tempered are worse to live with than any. But the 
opposite observation which was made in the former part, is 
extreme, clear from what we are now saying ; for it is diffi- 
cult to determine with accuracy the manner, the 
persons, the occasions, and the length of time for 

• Etymologists haye doubted whether the compodtion of 
iicp6xo\os be SxpoQ, or aKparoQt l>ut this observation o( 
Aristotle shows that in his opinion the word is derived firom 
&KpoQt an extreme. 

* Hoc est oonficere ac sedare perturbationem.— ^/tet««i(t. 

c«] ETHICS. 107 

whicli one ought to be angry^ aid at what point 
one ceases to act rightly, or wrongly. For he 9. 
who transgresses the limit a little is not blamed, Slight 
whether it be on the side of excess or deficiency : transaction 
and we sometimes praise those who fell short, and ^o*^^^"^ 
call them meek ; and we call the irascible manly, 
as being able to govern. But it is not easy to lay 
down a precise rule as to the extent and nature of 
the traaisgresdon, by which a man becomes cul- 
pable j for the decision must be left to particular 
cases, and to the moral sense. Thus much, how- 10. 
ever, is clear, that the mean habit is praiseworthy, 
according to which we feel anger with proper per- 
sons, on proper occasions, in a proper manner, and 
so forth : and the excesses and defects are blame- 
able ; a little blameable when they are only a little 
distance from the mean ; more blameable when they 
are further ; and when they are very far, very blame- 
able. It is clear, therefore, that we must hold to 
the mean habit. Let the habits, therefore, which 
relate to anger have been sufficiently discussed. 


Of the Social Virtue and its Ckmtranet, 

But in the intercourse of life and society, and the 1, 
interchange of words and actions, some people Of the so* 
appear to be men-pleasers ; who praise everything cial virttw 
with a view to give pleasure, and never in any -A-peaicot. 
case take the opposite side, but think they ought 
to give no pain or annoyance to those in whose 
society they happen to be; others, contrary to 
these, who oppose everything, and are utterly 
careless of giving pain, are called cross and quar- 
relsome. That these habits are blameable, is 2. 
tvident ; and likewise that the mean habit be- AvctkoX* . 
tween them is praiseworthy, according to which 
A man will approve and disapprove of pro2>er 



[book i%« 


The mean 
is ^Ala 
dvtv TOV 


It aims at 



objects^ and in a proper manner. There is no 
name assigne*! to this habit, but it most resembles 
Mendship ; for he who acts according to the mean 
habit is such as we mean by the e^spresdoo, '<a kind 
and gentle friend," if we add thereto the idea of 
affection ; while this habit differs from friendship, 
in being without passion and affection for those 
with whom one has intercourse ; for it is not from 
being a friend or an enemy that he s^proves or dis- 
approves in every case properly, but because it is 
his nature ] for he will do it alike in the case of 
those whom he knows, and those whom he does not 
know, and to those with whom he is intimate, and to 
those with whom he is not intimate, except that he 
will always do it properly; for it is not fit in the 
same way to pay regard to, or to give pain, to 
intimate fri^ads and strangers. 

Generally, therefore, we have said, that in his 
intercourse he will behave properly; and referring 
his conduct to the principles of honour and ex* 
pediency, he will aim at not giving pain, or at 
giving pleasure. For he seems to be concerned 
with the pleasures and pains that arise in the inter- 
course of society ; and in all of these in which it is 
dishonourable or inexpedient to give pleasure, he 
will show disapprobation, and will dehberately prefer 
to give pain. And if the action bring upon the 
doer disgrace or harm, and that not small, and the 
opposite course of conduct only slight pain, he will 
not approve, but will disapprove of it highly. But 
his manner of intercourse will be different with 
persons of rank, and with ordinary persons, and 
with those who are more or less faiown to him ; 
and in all other cases of. difference he will act in 
like manner, awarding to each his due :. and 
abstractedly preferring to give pleasure, and 
cautious about giving pain^ but yet attending 
always to the resultsi, I mean to the- honourable 
and the expedient, if they be greater tban the 
pain. And for the sake of giving great pleas^ire. 
Siiterwards, he will inflict small pain. Such, then. 

Cf the TrMihful, and ihote in Ihe Kzirm 

It.] ETHICS, 109 

is iie wlio is in the mean, but it has not a name. 6. 
But of those who give pleasure, he who aimfi at being ^'^ 
pleasant, without any fiirther object, is a man- ^°° 
pleaser ; he who does it that Bome benefit may and 
aocrue to him in money or that which money pur- «"C- 
chasea, is a flatterer. But as for bim who gives 
pain and always disapproves, we have said that he 
is nioroBe and qnarrelBome, But the exti-emes 
appear opposed to each other, because the mean 
hag no name. 


^^'^^BE mean state on tho subject of arrogance is con- 1. 

^*' eemed with almost the same object matter as the Trathfa,. 
Iiist ; thia also has no name. But it would be no bad "*"' 
plan to go through and enumerate such habits as 
these; for we should have a more accurate knowledge 
of whatrelatesto moral character.whenwe have gone 
through them individually ; and we should befieve 
that the -virtues are mean states, if we saw at one 
comprehensive view that the position was true in 
flvery instance. Now, in social intercourse, those 2, 
persons who associate with others for the purpose 
of giving pleasure, and those who do it for the 
purpose of giving pain, have been treated of. But 
let U3 apeak of those who are true, and those who 
are false, in their words, theh' actions, and their 

Now, the arrogant man appears inclined to pre- 3- 
tend to thJjigB honourable, which do not belong to EicesA 
him, and to things greater than what belong to ^^^ ,;. 
Mm : the falsely modest, on the other hand, is apt parda 
to deny what really does belong to him, or to (fulse mo. 
make it out to be less than it is. But he who is ™"tl)' 
in the mean is, aa it were, a real character, truthful 
in hia actions and his words, and ready to allow 

Et he posaesees what he really poasesaes, without 

110 ARISTOTLE'S [book m 

making t greater or less. But it is possible to do 
all these things with or without a motive. But 
every one, except he acts with a motive, speaks, 
acts, and lives, according to his character. But 
falsehood, abstractedly, is bad and blameable, and 
truth honourable and praiseworthy ; and thus the 
truthful man being in the mean, is praiseworthy ; 
while the false are both blameable; but the arrogant 

4. man more so than the other. But let us speak 
n«ot dXri- about each separately : and first, about the truthful; 
etvTiKov, £^^ ^Q gj^ j^^^ speiiing of him who speaks truth 

in his agreements, nor in matters that relate to 
injustice or justice ; for this would belong to another 
virtue ; but of him who in cases of no such conse* 
quence observes truth in his words and actions, 
from being such in character. 

5. But such a man would appear to be a worthy 
man ; for the lover of truth, since he observes it in 
matters of no consequence, will observe it still more 
in matters of consequence ; inasmuch as he who is 
cautious of falsehood for its own sake, will surely 
be cautious of it as being disgraceful ; and such a man 
is praiseworthy. But he declines from the truth 
rather on the side of defect ; for this appears to be 
in better taste, because excesses are hatefuL 

^ But he who makes pretensions to greater things 
Arrownt. than really belong to him, without any motive, re- 
sembles a base man, for otherwise he would not have 
taken pleasure in the £sdsehood ; but still he appears 
foolish rather than bad. But if it be with a motive, 
he who does it for the sake of glory or honour is 
not very blameable, as the arrogant man ; but he 
who does it for the sake of money is more diiahonour- 

7'. able. But the character of the arrogant man does 
not consist in the power of being so, but in the de- 
libeiate preference to be so ; for he is arrogant, just 
as the liar, from the habit, and from his being of 
this character. Those, therefore, who are arrogant 
for the sake of honour, pretend to such things 
as are followed by praise or congratulation ; those 
who are so for the sake of gain pretend to such 


things as tlieir neighbours reap the advantage ot 
and of which the absence in themselves may escaj:^ 
notice, as that they are skilful^ physicians or sooth- 
sayers j wherefore most men pretend to such things 
as these, and are thus arrogant ; for they possess 
the qualities which we have mentioned. 

But the £alsely modest, who speak of themselves 8. 
on the side of defect, seem more refined in character; Falsely 
for they are not thought to speak for the sake of '"***^®^ 
gain, but to avoid that which is troublesome to 
others. These, too, more than other men, deny that 
they possess honourable qualities ; as Socrates also 
did. But those who pretend to things of small im- 
portance, and which they evidently do not possess, 
are called cunning and consequential, and are very 
contemptible. And &Ise modesty appears some- 9. 
times to be arrogance ; as the dress of the La- BavKoirar 
cedsemonians ; for too great defect, as well as ^^PK^*^^ 
excess itself, looks like arrogance. But those who False 
make a moderate use of &Ise modesty, and in cases modesty 
where the truth is not too obvious and plain, appear fometiiiiw 
polished. But the arrogant seems to be opposed to »^^- 
the truthful character, for it is the worse of the two 

* If oo^hv is here a substantiye, it must be an attack upon 
the Sophists as pretenders to wisdom which they did not pos- 
sess. The preceding passage renders this not improbable, for 
one great cUfference between the Sophists and the philoso- 
phers, who were, like Plato and Aristotle, opposed to them, 
was that they taught for gain. This their opponents thought 
unworthy of the dignity of a philosopher. The teaching of 
Socrates professed to be, as Aristotle asserts below, directly 
opposed to anything like pretension, hence the dpiavtia, 
which was one characteristic of it. On this subject Michelet 
refers to an essay of Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil., torn. ii. pp. 53-57. 
For an able and elaborate defence of the Sophists, and most 
interesting obserrations on the teaching of Socrates, see Grote'a 
Hist, of Greece, vol. viii. pp. 67 and 68. 

^ BavKoiravoupyoQ^ a rogue who [mis a good face on tbe 
wont case. — Liddell an. i Scoii, 

Hi ARISTOTLE S [book it. 


Of graceful or polished Witj and its conManf, 

1. Bur fflnce there are periods of relax3,tion in life, 
The^ue and in tbem sportive pastime is admiipble^ in 
''*P®"^^*'^tliis case also there iseems to be a certain HDtQtliod 

of intercourse consistent with pipprieir^ and,' good 
taste, and also of saying proper tilings and in^ a 
proper manner; and likewise a proper nuumer 
of hearing- But .there will be a difference in point 
of the persons among whom we. speak, or whom 

2. we hear. But it is clear that on these subjects 
there is excess and defect. Those, therefore, Vho 

l^lLoXoxof exceed in the ridictilous appear to be "buffoons 
and vulgar, always longing for something ridi- 
culous, and aiming more at exciting laughter 
than speaking decently, and~ causing no pam to 

'A} pM)t. the object of their sarcasm. But those who neither 
say anything laughable themselves, nor approve of 

3. it in others, appear to be clownish and luu:^ ; but 
Eurp^jre- those who are sportive with good taste are called 
^*''' men of graceful wit (cvrpaTrcXot, from cv, well, and 

rpeVoi, to turn), as possessing versatility, for such 
talents seem to be the gestures of iJie moral 
character ; and the character, like the body, is 
judged of by its gestures. But since what is ridi- 
culous is on the sur&ce, and the generality of man- 
kind are pleased with sport, and even with over- 
much jesting, even buffoons are called men of grace- 
ful wit, as though they were refined ; but from 
what has been said, it is clear that they differ from 
them, and differ considerably. 

4. But tact peculiarly belongs to the mean habit ; 
Z^« and it is the part of a clever man of tact to 

speak and listen to such things as befit a worthy 
man and a gentleman ; for in sport there are some 
things which it is proper for such a man to say and 
to listen to. And the sportiveness of the gentle- 
man differs from that of the slave^ and that of tbi 


educated £rom that of tlie uneducated man : and a 
person might see this difference from the difference Comedy^ 
between old and recent comedies ;^ in the old ones 
obscenity constituted the ridiculous ; in the modem 
ones inuendo ; and there is considerable difference 
between these in point of decency. 

Must we, then, define the man who jests with •>• 
propriety as one who says such things as are not ^ ^^ ^**^' 
unbefitting a gentleman 1 or who takes care not to ***"* 
give pain to L hearer, but rather to give plea- 
isare ? or is such a thing as this incapable of defini- 
tion 1 for different things are hateful and pleasant 
to different people. The things which he will say 
he wiU also listen to ; for it is thought that a man 
would do those things which he would bear to hear 
of. Now, he will not do eveiything that he will 
listen to ; for a scoff is a sort of opprobrious ex- 
pression ; and there are some opprobrious expres- 
sions which are forbidden by legislators; and 
perhaps there are things at which ilioy ought to 
have forbidden men to scoff Now, the refined 
and .gentlemanly man will so behave, being as it 
were a law to himself: and such is he who is in 
the mean, whether he be called a man of tact, or of 
graceful wit. 

But the buffoon cannot resist what is ridiculous, 6. 
and spares neither himself nor anybody else, if he ^^f^o\oxH 
can but raise a laugh ; and this he will do by 
saying such things as the gentleman would not 
think of saying, or sometimes even of listening '^y^joc 
to. But the clownish man is in all such companies 
useless, for he contributes nothing, and disapproves 
of everything. But recreation and sport appear to 
be necessary in life. 

Now, these just mentioned are the mean states These 
in the social intercourse of life : they aU refer to the ^^'f® **■* 
interchange of certain words and actions, but they ^^^^^ ^^ 
differ^ in that one relates to truth, and others to the social 

^ The dramatic literature of our own country, as well as 
that of Athens, furnishes a yaluable index to the progress of 
refinement and moral education. 


114 ARISTOTLE'S [book iv. 

Interoourse pleasure. But of those tliat relate to pleasure, one is 
of life. concerned with sport, the other with the other in- 
teroourse of life. 


Of the Sense of Shame. 

1. But it is not proper to i^>eak of the sense of shame 
AlSijQ de- as a virtue, for it is more like a passion than a habit ; 
fined : it j^ jg therefore defined as a kind of fear of disgrace ; 
^rtue *but ^^* ^ ^^ effects it resembles very nearly the fear 
a passion, that is experienced in danger ; for those who are 

ashamed grow red, and those who fear death turn 
pale. Both, therefore, appear to be in some sort 
connected with the body ; and this seems charac- 

2. teristic of a passion rather than a habit. But this 
Adapted passion befits not every age, but only that of youth ; 
properly foj. ^^ think it right that young persons should be 
*^y°^^- apt to feel shame, because from Hving in obedience 

to passion they commit many &.ults, and are re- 
strS by a inse of shame. And we praise those 
young persons who are apt to feel shame ; but no 
man would praise an older person for being shame- 
faced ; for we think it wrong that he should do 
anything; to be ashamed of ; for shame is no part 
of the character of the good man, i^ indeed, 
it be true that it follows imworthy actions ; for 
such things he ought not to do. But whether the 
things be in reality or only in opinion disgraceful, 
it makes no difference; for neither ought to be 
done ; so that a man ought not to feel shame. 
3^ Moreover, it is a mark of a bad man to be of 
Shame not such character as to do any of these things. But 
the proof ^ }yQ Qf ^^^ character as to feel shame in case he 
^^* ^° should do any such action, and for this cause to 
think himself a good man, is absurd ; for diame 
follows only voluntary actions ; but the good man 
will never do bad actions voluntarily. But shame 
may be hypothetkally a worthy feeling ; for if a man 


were to do sncli a thing, he would be ashamed ; but 
this has nothing to do with the virtues : but though 
Bhamelessness, and not to be ashamed to do dis- 
graceful actions, be bad, yet it is not on this accoimt 
a virtue for a man who does such things to be 4. 
ashamed. Neither is continence, properly speak- Continence 
ing^ a virtue, but a kind of mixed virtue ; but the (^y*/>^- 
subject of continence shall be fully discussed here- mwif ^ff^ 
9ifter. But now let us speak of justice. 

. ( 'I 

i . ■ 


•4 ■ . I .1 I # 




Of Justice and Injustice.^ 

1. But we must mqxdre into the subject of justice and 
injustice, and see what kind of actions they are con- 
cerned with, what kind of mean state justice island 

* This book is almost identically the same with the fQurth 
book of the Eudemean Ethics. A passage in Plato's treatise 
De Legibus, p. 757, quoted by Brewer, p. 167, shows how 
far the views of the great master and his distinguished pupil 
coincided on this subject of particular justice. As far as 
regarded universal justice, the theory of Plato was as fol- 
lows : — He considered the soul a republic (De Rep. iv.), 
composed of three faculties or orders. (1.) Reason, the go- 
verning principle. (2.) The irascible passions. (3.) The 
concupisdble passions. When each of these three faculties of 
the mind confined itself to its proper office, without attempt- 
ing to encroach upon that- of any other ; when reason go- 
verned, and the passions obeyed, then the result was ti^t 
complete virtue, which Plato denominated justice. Under 
the idea of universal justice will be comprehended the ** jus- 
titia expletriz," and '< justitia attributrix,'' of Grotius; the 
former of which consists in abstaining from what is another's, 
and in doing voluntarily whatever we can with propriety be 
forced to do ; the latter, which consists in proper beneficence, 
and which comprehends all the social virtues. This latter 
kind has been by some termed '* distributive justice,'' but in 
a different sense from that in which the expression is used by 
Aristotle. — (A. Smith, Mor. Sent. Part VII. 2.) With 
respect to particular justice, distributive justice takes cogni- 
zance of the acts of men, considered in relation to the state, 
and comprehends what we call criminal cases. Corrective 
justice considers men in relation to each other, and compre- 
hends dvil cases. Aristotle has also treated the subject of 
justice and injustice, though in a less scientific manner, in 
bis Rhetoric, Book I. cc. zii. xiii. xiv., to the translation of 
which, in this series, together with the accompanying notes* 
the reader is referred. 

enAF. ■■] 

Era tea. 


babit CI 

between what things "the jnat," that .is; the «b- 
Htraot principle of justice, is a mean. But let our 
investigation be oondDKed aiter the aauM method as 
in the case of the virtues already discussed. We bco, 2. 
then, that all men mean by the term juatic^ that Ju>ti«* 
kind of habit from which men are Bpt to peiform ^°^ ^i^' 
juBt actions, and from which they a«t justly, and fingj. 
wish fijr just things ; and similarly in tho' Cflfie of in juatict 
injustice, that habit from which they act unjustly, ^tee 
and wish for unjuat thiBga. Let these things, '■"°e* "* 
therefore, b« first laid down bb it wei* in outline ; "^"""T- 
fortheoaHeia not the same in scienoes and capacities I'cipgdtr 
asinhalnte; forthe same capacity and science seema 2. Moral 
to comprehend within its sphere contraries ; but choice, 
one contrary habit does not infer the other con- ^- .*''''''"• 
trary acts : * for instance, it is not the case that, from ^^1^^ 
the habit of health, the contrary acta are performed, anifiii ms* 
but only tlie healthy ones ; for we say that a man be of con. 
waits healthily when he walks aa a healthy man '' 
would walk. Hence a contrary habit is often ^ 
known from its contrary ; and the habits are often 
known from the things conneBted witJi and attend- j^ jj^y,. 
ant upon them ; for if the good habit of body be may be 
well known, the bad habit becomes known also ; and known 
the good habit ia known iroia the things which be- ^'"° ''* 
long to it, and these things from the good habit ; '"'' ""^' 
for if the good habit of body be firmness of flesh, it 
neoeeaarily follows that the bad habit of body is 
looseness of ileah ; and that which is likely to cause 
the good habit of body is that which is likely to 
c&use firmnees of fiosh. 

But it, generally speaking, follows, that if the one 
of two contMriea be used in more senses than one, 
the other contrary is likewise used in more aenses 
than one : linr instance, if the just ia so used, so also 5, 
is the tmjuat. But justice and injustice eeem to be The tamu 
used in more sensea than one ; but becauae of their jostice and 
** The HucB habit cuniuit hace to do with coDtrsriei, whoreu 
Ihs lame Bcience cam, i.g, the hubit or liealth con only produce 
_ healthy nction, but tlit! sdeiioe of healing cuu, if e' ■* — 

1 m A RTSTOTIiF/S [book t. 

liaye more dose adfinity; their homonymy escapes notice, and is 
than one j^ot 80 clear to be understood, as in the case of things 
Bignifica- ^c[giy differing : for the difference in species is a 
however, great difference : for instance, both the bone under 
is scarcely the neck of animals, and that -with which they 
obsenra- lock doors, are called by the same Greek word 
f* ? ,_ KXelc Let us, then, ascertain in how many senses 
rJraT ^' *^® term unjust man is used. Now, the transgressor 
6. of law appears to be imjust, and the man who takes 
The just more than his share, and the unequal man ; so that 
™P " it is dear that the just man also will mean the man 
^S: yrho «sbB iuxx>rdkig to W, and the equal man. 
the iuaiov The just will therefore be the lawful and the equal ; 
is vdftmov and the unjust the unlawful and the unequal But 
and Iffov : ^qq the unjust man is also one who takes more 
the ddiKov ^^^^'^ ^ share, he will be of this character with re- 
is wap&vo- ga^ to goods ; not, indeed, all goods, but only those 
fAov and in which there is good and bad fortune ; and these 
avicrov. ^re absolutely always good, but relatively not always. 
* Yet men pray for and pursue these things ; they 
ought not, however ; but they ought to pray that 
absolute goods may be goods relatively to them- 
selves, and they ought to choose those things which 
are good to themselves.^ 

8. But the unjust man does not always choose too 
much, but sometimes too little, in the case of things 

All lawful absolutely bad, but because even the smaller evil 
things are appears to be in some sense a good, and covetous- 
i*"^* ness is for what is good, for this reason he appears 

to take more than his share. He Jft-ft^fn iinfitintfil ; 

for this includes the other, and is a common term. 

9. But since the transgressor'^of law ia^ as we said, un- 
just, and the keeper of law just, it is dear that all 

* See JuTen. Sat. x. :— 

'' Say, then, shall man, depiiyed all power of choice, 
Ne'er raise to Heayen the supplicating yoioe ? 
Not so ; but to the gods his fortunes trust : 
Their thoughts are wise, their dispensations just. 
What best may profit or delight tiiey know, 
And reed good for ftnded bliss bestow : 
WSth eyes of pity they our fhdlties scan ; 
More dear to them. iSaaxk to himself, is man." 

Gifford's Transl. 50?. 

law&l things are in some sense juet ; for tliose 
things which have been defined by the legislative 
science are lawful : aai each one of these vra assert 
to be Just. But laws moke mention of all subjects, lo. 
with a view either to the common advantage of all, Object at 
or of men in power, or of the best citizena i^ accord- ''"•• 
ing to virtue, or some other such standard. So 
that in one way we call those things just which are 
adapted to produce and preserve happiness and its 
(jarts for t^e social community. But the law di- H. 
rects the performance of the acts of the bravo man ; 
for instance, not to leave trirpjst, nor to ily,"nor to 
throw away his anna ; and the acta of the temperate 
man; for instance, not to commit adultery or ont- 
rage ; and the acts of the meek man ; for instance, 
not to asaatdt or abuse ; and in like manner, in the 
case of the other virtues and vicea, it enjoins one 
^^lass of actions, and forbids the other ; a well-made 
^Bjinr does it well, and one fiamed off-hand and with- 
^Kat consideration badly. 

^F This justice, therefore, is perfect virtue, not abso- IS- 
^Hutely, but relatively. And for this reason justice ^'''^' 
often appears to be the most excellent of the vir-„)j,;„ ^^^^^ 
tuea ; and neither the evening nor the morning star relati»elr 
is 80 admirable." And in a proverb we say, " In it is •"•>■■ 
justice all virtue is comprehended." And it is more ^'"1- 
than any others perfect virtue, because it is the exei^ 
dse of perfect virtue ; and it is perfect, because the 
possessor of it is able to exercise his virtue towards 
another person, and not only in reference to him- 
self ; for many men are able to exercise virtue in jt jj ^„i- 
their own concerns, but not in matters which con- ii-i/mv. 
com other people. For tliis reason, the saying of 
Bias seems to he a good one, " Power will show the 

' Thia distinction is drawn 

tacnitiad atatcs. 

□ order to make the assertion 
both of democnticil and aria- 
I, the beat citiiens, i.e. the 

* Tbfre is no doubt that tliis ta ■ proTcrbial Baying, but 
whence it comes is danbtful ; by soma it hia been attributed 
a fiuripidea, by others, on the antkorit; of TheophnatUi to 

"•ognia. — Zell. 

120 ARISTOTLE'S [book r. 

13. man ;** £ot the man in power is a% once asBoeiated 
wiikaiul stands in teM^m. te crthera^ And for thia 
sanne reason justice alone, of all the ▼irtues,' seems 
to be a good to another person, because it has rela- 
tion' to another j for it does what is advantageous 
to some- one else, either to the head, or to<9EHne 
member of the commonwealth. That man, there- 
fore, is the worst who acts viciously both as -re- 
gards himself and his friends ; and that man is the 
best who. acts virtuously not as regards himsdi^ but 
as regards another; for this is a difficult task 

14. This kind of justice, therefore, is not a division ot 
virtue, but the wh<^ of virtue ; nor is the contrary 

Uniyersal injustice a part of vice, but the whole of vice. But 

justice the difference between virtue and this kind of jus- 

^ rifect ^^ ^ clear from the preceding statements ; for the 

I^Qg ' habits are the same, but their: essence is not the 

same ; but so far as justice in this sense relates to 

another, it is justice ; so &r as it is such and such 

a habit, it is simply virtue.^ 


Qf^ke wUure and sualities qf J^flrttculor JiM^tf- • > . • 

1. But that justice which is a pact of virtu^.is the ob . 
That there j^ Qf ^yj^ investigation j for (as we pay) there is. 
la/^usti"ce su^^'* ^^^ of justice : and, likewise, that injustice 
(TrXtovc- which^ is a pai-t of vice : and this is a proof that 
\ia) there is ; for he who energizes according to the other 

vices acts unjustly, but does not take more .than, 
his share ; as the man who through fear has thrown 
away his shield, or through moroseness has used abu- 
sive language, or through illiberality has refused to 
give pecuniary assistance ; but whenever a man bakes 

' Virtue and universal justice are substantially the same, 
but . in the mode of their jexistence they differ ; or, in other 
words, the same habit, wliich, when considered absolutely, is 
termed virtue, is, when considered as a relative duty, termed 
universal justice. 


more than his share, he doe» so frequentlj not from 
any one of these yices, still less from all of thein, 
but stin from some 'vice (for we blame him) ; 
laamelj-from injustice. . There is, therefore, some 2. 
other kind of iiijustice, Trhich is as a part to ultdiffen 
whole, and some " unjust>^_which is rdated to that ^^om um- 
" unjust" which transgresses the lawj as a^part to a p^rt from 
whole. Again, if one man commits ^adultery for a whole, 
the eake of gain, and receives something for it in 
addition, . and another, does so at some cost for the 
gratification of his lusts, the latter would seem^ to 
be intemperate rather than taking more than -his 
share > and the former unjust, but not intemperate': 
it is clear, at any rate, that he committed the (irime 
for the sake of gain. Again, in all other acts of 3. 
injuatioe it is possible always to refer the action to 
some specific "vice.: for mstance, if a person has 
committed adultery; you may refer it to intempe- 
rance ; if he has deserted his comrade's side in the 
ranks, to cowardice ; if he has committed an assault, 
to anger J but if he bas gained anything l^Tthe 
act, you can refer it to no vice but injustice. So 4. 
that it is evident that there is another kind of' in- 
justice besides imiversal injustice, whidi is a part of 
it, and is called by the same name, because the 
generic definition of both is the same ^ &r the whole 
force c^both consists in relation j but one isoonver- Particulat 
sant with honour, money, safety, or with whatever justice. 
common term would comprehend all these; and its 
motive is the pleasure arising from gain ; whilst the UniyersU 
other is conversant with all things with, which a justice, 
good man is concerned. It is clear, therefore, that 
there are more kinds of justice than one, and that 
there is another kind besi(3^s that which is imiversal 
virtue : but we must ascertain its generic and t&i:>e- 
eific character. 

Now, the " unjust" has been divided intO' the un- 
lawful and the imequal ; and "the just" into the 
lawful and the equal. Now, the injustice before 
mentioned is according to the unlawful. But, since 
the unequal and the moi^ are not the same,^ but 

U3 ARISTOTLE'S [book v. 

different, that is, that one bears to the other the 
relation of a part to a whole,^ for ererything which is 
more is unequal^ but it is not true that everything 
which is unequal is more ; and in the same way the 
unjust and injustice are not the same^ but different 
in the two cases ; in the one case being as paits^in the 
other as wholes ; for this injustice of which we arcj 
now treating is a part of universal injustice ; and 
in like manner particular justice is a part of uni- 
versal justice ; so that we must speak of the parti- 
cular justice and the particular injustice ; and in 
like manner of the particular just, and the parti- 

6. cular unjust Let us, then, disTniss that justice and 
Universal injustice which is conversant with imiversal virtue, 
j'"!*^ ^" *^® ^^® being the exercise of universal virtue with 
muBca, relation to another, and the other of universal vice ; 

and it is clear that we must dismiss also the just and 
imjust which are involved in these ; for one may 
almost say that the greater part of things lawful 
are those the doing of which arises from universal 
virtue ; for the law enjoins that we live according 
to ea<5h particular virtue, and forbids our Hving ac- 
cording to each particular vice ; and all those law- 
ful things which are enjoined by law in the matter 
' of social education are the causes which produce 

7. universal virtue. But as to private education, ac- 
cording to which a man is good absolutely, we must 
hereafter determine whether it belongs to the poli- 
tical or any other science ; for it is not perhaps en- 

8. tirely the same thing in every case to be a good 
Particular man and a good citizen. But of the particular jus- 
justice di- iioQ^ an^j q£ ii^Q particular just which is accor(Ung 

' dS? ^ i*' ^^® sP^^i^s is that which is concerned in the 


' The generic word " unequal ** comprehends under it the 

specific ones ** more " and ** less/' and therefore is to them 
as a whole to its parts. Hence it is to be observed that the 
words " whole *' and " part ** are used in their logical rela- 
tion : for, logically^ the genus contains the species ; whereas, 
metaphysically, the species contains the genus : e, g, we divide 
logically the genus ** man" into ''European, Asiatic," &c., 
but each of the species, European, &c., contains the idea ol 
man, together with the duuracteristic difference. 





distribu'tions of hoaour. or of weaJth, or of any of 
those other things which can possibly be distributed 
among the members of a pohtical community J for 
in these cafiea it is possihle that one person, aa com- 
pared with another, should have an unequal or an 9. 
equal share ; the other is that which is corrective Con-wtiy*. 
in transaction B* between w" and mnn , And of 
this there are two divisions ; for some transactions 
are voluntary, and others involuntary ; the vo- Traosai:- 
luntary are such aa follow ; Belling, buying, lending, ''""' '" 
pledgingtransactions, borrowing,' depositing of trusts, Volantnry 
hiring ; and they are so called because the origin of Involun- 
Buch transactions is voluntary. Of involuntary trans- Wrj' 
actions, some are secret, as theft, adultery, poison- 
ing, pandering, enticing away of slaves, assassination, 
&lae witness ; others accompanied with violence, as 
assault, imprisonment, death, robbery, mutilation, 
evil-apeaking, contumelious language. 

qf Siitributivt Juilict. 

But since the unjust man is uneqaal, and the nnjnst '■ 
is unequal, it is clear that there is some mean of the ^^ B^p^n 
unequal : and this is the equal ; for in every action two thing 
in which there ia the more and the less, there nad with 
is the equal also. If, therefore, the unjust be nn- feferencB 
equal, the just is eqnal ; but this, without argument, °. " 

' The word oiivaXXriy^ora, here rendered "traiuactioM," 
iDuit not be uaderbtooU at being limited to cisca of obtignUons 
iQlanUrilf iucurrcd, but ai compreheadinE all cases of obli- 
ftation vhich exist in the dealiogs between man and man, 
whether moril, Bocial, or paliticsl. A avviXKay/ia Uoinov 
may be either Terbil or written ; if writltn, it maj be 
(1.) mivflv'"!. which tBrin is geaerally used of political (Lgree- 
mentB or con.eBliongi (2.) <r«rrP"!"l. ■ leK»l bonds (3.) 
■rvuEiSXaiai', an instrameDt in the case of a peconiar* lou. 
See Rbet. I. iv. 

' XP'!<"{ '" thnt contract which the Bomfln jurist* tenii 
" commodatum." — Miehtltl. 


124 ARISTOTLE'S [book ▼• 

muflfc hi d^ear to everyixHiy. Bat duxte iil» ^qusl m 

a meuif tiie jnst'mnst also be a kind (jimma.- Bat" 

the eqiud implies two terms at least ;< the gtist, theie- 

fore^ must he both a mean and eqval, it must relate 

to some things and some persons. > In that iiis a 

mean, it mnst relate to two things^ and these are 

the m<M:e and the less ; in that it is equals to two 

things^ and in that it is jnst to certain parsons. 

, 2. It follows, therefore, that the just mnst impfy'fcmr 

llicre will terms at least ; for the persons to whom tl^^'jv^ 

i^rmM- relates are two, and the things that are the sabjedts 

two per. of the actions are two. And there will- be the 

B0R8 and same equality between iAie persons and beltween the 

two things, things ; for as the things are to • one another so 

are tibe persons, for if the persons are unequal^ they 

will not have equal things. 

3. But hence arise all disputes end quarrels, whai 
equal perscms have unequal thmgs, aat' unequal per- 
sons have and have assigned to them equid things. 
Again, this is clear from the expression " according 
to worth ;" for, in distributions, all agree that justice 
ought to be according to some stand^xl of worth, yet 
all do not make that standard the same ; for those 
who are inclined to democracy consider liberty as 
the standard ; those who are inclined to oligarchy, 
wealth ; others, nobility of birth ; and those who are 

4. inclined to aristocracy, yirtue.^ ■ Justice, therefore, is 
something proportionate ; for proportioti ia the pro- 
perty not of arithmetical numbers only, but of num- 
ber universally; for proportion is an equality of ratio, 
and implies four terms at least. Now it is deai*, 
that disjunctive proportion implies four terms ; but 
continuous proportion is in four terms also ; for it 
will use one term in place of two, and mention it 
twice ; for instance, asAtoB, soisBtoC;B has 
therefore been mentioned twice. So that if B be 
put down twice, the terms of the proportion are four. 

*• Moreover, the just also implies four terms at least, 
and the ratio is the same, for the persons and the 
thingi are similarly divided. Therefore, as the term 

* Compare Arist. Rhet. Book I. c. Titi. 

CHAP. iT.j ETHICS. 125 

A to the term B, so will be tlie term C to the term D; 
and therefore, alternately, as A to so B to D. So 
that the whole also bears the same prcpcrtion to the 
whole which the distribution puts together in pairs; 
and if it puts them together in this way, it puts 
them together justly.^ The conjunction, therefore, 
of A and C and of B and D is the just in the dis- 
tribution ; and this just is a mean, that is, a mean 
between those things which are contrary to propor- 
tion ; for the proportionate is a mean, and the just 
is proportionate* But mathematicians call this kind 6. 
of proportion geometrical, for in geometrical propor- 
tionit comes to pass that the whole hasthe same ratio 
to the whole which each of the parts has to the other ; 
but this proportion is not continuous, for the person The prox 
and the t hing are not one term numerically. But the portioM 
imjust is that which is contrary to proportion ; there ". . 

is one kind, therefore, on the side of excess, and one ''''*• 
on the side of defect ; and this is the case in acts, 
for he who acts unjustly has too minh, and the man 
who is treated unjustly too little good. But in the 7. 
case of evil, the same thing happens inversely, for 
the less evil compared with the greater becomes a 
good; for the less e^il is more eligible than the 
greater, and the eligible is good, and the more 
eligible a greater good. This, therefore, is one 
species of the just. 

CHAP. lY. 

0/ Justice hi Draruactions between Man and Man, 

But the other one is the corrective, and its prcvince i. 
is all transactions, as well voluntary as involuntary. In correc* 
But this just has a dijQTerent form fix)m the preced- *f^® i^' 
ing ; for that which is distributive of common pro- ^i^ 

^ A : B : : C : D. 
Altemando, A : C : : B : D. 
Componendo, A+C : B + D : : A : B. 
Altcmando, A-l'C : A :: B + D : B. 

126 ARISTOTLE'S [book v. 

propor- pertj is always according to the proportion before 
tion is ob- mentioned. For if the distribution be of common 
■*'^**^.' property, it will be made according to the propor- 
regards the ^^^^ which the original contributions bear to each 
actsi and other ; and the unjust which is opposed to this just is 
not the contrary to the proportionate. But the just which 
P^"^""* exists in transactions is something equal, and the 
farasre- unjust something unequal, but not according to 
gards geometrical but arithmetical proportion ; for it mat* 

ififiia, ters not whether a good man has robbed a bad man, 

2. or a bad man a good man, nor whether a good or a 
bad man has committed adultery ; the law looks to 
the difference of the hurt alone, and treats the per- 
sons, if one commits and the other suffers injury, as 
equal, and also if one has done and the other suf- 

3. fered hurt. So that the judge endeavours to make 
this unjust, which is unequal, equal ; for when one 
man is struck and the other stnkes, or even when 
one kills • and the other dies, the suffeiing and the 
doing are divided into unequal parts ; but then he 
endeavours by means of punishment to equalize 
them, by taking somewhat away from the gain. For 
the term " gain " is used (to speak once for all) in 
such cases, idthough in some it may not be the exact 
word, as in the case of the man who strikes a blow, 
and the term " loss '* in the case of the man who 
suffers it ; but when the suffering is measured, the 
expressions gain and loss are used. 

4. So that the equal is the mean between the more 
and the less. But gain and loss are one moi-e, and 
the other less, in contrary ways ; that is, the more 
of good and the less of evil is a gain, and the 

Correc- contrary is a loss. Between which the mean is 
tire justice the equal, which we call the just. So that the 
a mean just which is corrective must be the mean be- 
^^**2 tween loss and gain. Hence it is that when men 
g^^ have a quarrel l£ey go to the judge ; but going to 

5. the jud^ is going to the just ; for tiie meaning 
of the word judge is a living personification of the 
just ; and they seek a judge as a mean ; some call 
them mediators, under the idea that if they hit 

the mean, tliey will hit thi just ; the just, therefore, 
is a kind of mean, because the judge is. 

But the judge equalizes, and, just as if a line G. 
had been cut into two unequal parts, he takes 1'°" ^ 
awuy bom the gi-eater part that quantity by which "r|)Jin",j 
it exceeds the real haltj and adds it to the leaser 
jiart ; but when the whole is divided into two 
equal parts, then they say that the parties have 
their own when they have got an equal ahare. 
But the eqoal is the mean between greater and 7. 
less, according to arithmetical proportion. For 
this reason also it ia called BUaiot; because it ie 
Sixa (in two parts), just as if a peraon should call Etymobg; 
it Sixaior (divided in two), and the ?i™ffri)c is sc "f t''"")*- 
called, being as it were oixaor^c (a divider). For 
when two things are eqnid, and from the one 
something is taken away and added to the other, 
this other exceeds by twice this quantity ; for if it 
had been taken away fi^m the one, and not added 
to the other, it would have exceeded by once this 
quantity only ; it would therefore have exceeded the 

an by once this quantity, and the mean would 

'e exceeded that part &om which it was taken 
once this quantity. By this means, therefore, g. 
shall know both what it is right to take away 
'<rom him who has too much, and what to add 
to him who bos too little. For the quantity by 
which the mean exceeds the loaa must be added to 
him who baa the loss, and the quantity by which 
the mean is exceeded by the greater must be taken 
away from the greatest. 

For instance, the lines AA, BB, CC, ai'e equal to 9. 
each other; from the line AA, let AE betaken, 
or it^ equal CD, and added to line CC ; so that the 
whole Dec exceeds AF by CD and CZ ; it there- 
fore exceeds BB by CD.™ But these teiins, loss and Origin of 

" The folloBing figure will eiplsin Arirtotle'a meaning; — and nun 

128 A^RISTOTLE'S Lbook v. 

gain, take their rise from volimtarj barter ; for the 
having more than a man's own is called gaining, 
and to have less than he originallj had, to suffer 
loss ; as in selling and buying, and all other trans- 
10. actions in which the law affords protection. But 
when the result is neither more nor less, but the 
condition of parties is the same as before, they say 
that men have their own, and are neither losers nor 
gainers. So that the just is a mean between gain 
and loss in involuntary transactions, that is the 
having the same both before and after. 



«., ^* SoMB people think that retaliation is absolutely 
^A^^"- J^. aa the Pythagoreans said ; for they simply 
called defined justice as retaliation to another. But reta- 

Justice liation does not fit in either with the idea, of distri- 
retaliation, butiVe or corrective justice j and yet they would 
beM.^**^ have that this is the meaning of the Bhadamanthian 
they called ^ule, " If a man suffers what he has done, straight- 
it so simply, forward justice would take place:" for in many 
and not points it is at variance ; as for example, if a man 
KCLT ava- ^ authority has struck another, it is not right that 
• '^'"''- he should be struck in return; and if a man has 
struck a person in authority, it is right that he 
should not only be struck, but punished besides. 

" The law of retaliation, ** lex talionis," or commutative 
justice, differs in the following respect from distributive and 
corrective justice. As we have seen, distributive justice pro- 
ceeds on the principle of geometrical proportion, -^-corrective 
justice on that of arithmetical ; commutative justice, on both. 
For instance, we first compare the commodities and the per> 
sons geometrically ; as the builder is to the shoemaker, so is 
the number of shoes to the house. Next we give the shoe- 
maker a house, which renders the parties nneqiud. We then 
restore the equality arithmetically, by taking away from tha 
shoemaker the equivalent to the house reckonol ia shoet, and 
vettoiiDg it ta th« buildar^ 



Again, the voIimtariBcsa and Involuntarineas of an 2- 
action make a great difference. But in. the inter- ^f n"^""" 
course of exchauge, such a notion of jiisticfi as reta- '^^^^ ^^^^ 
liation, if it be Recording to proportion, and not Xoylav, 
according to equaJitj, holda men together, For by the csieb 
proportionate retaliation civil society is held toge- "^^"■''"bIi' 
ther ; for men either seek to retaliate evil {for other- en^jitj 
wise, if a, man must not retaliate, his condition 
appears to be as bad as slavery) or to retaliate good 
(for otherwise there is no interchange of good offioea, 
and by these society is held together) ; and fur this 
reason they build the temple of the Graces in the 
public way," to teach that kindness ought to be re- 
turned, for this is peculiar to gratitude ; for it is right 
n to retara a service to the person who has done a 
^favour, andthentobe one's selfthe first to confer the 

But diametrical conjunction canaes proper- 3. 

I tionate return ;p for example, let the builder be A, The rala of 

the shoemaker B, a house C, and ashoe D ; the builder "liai^etrical 

• The temples of the Graces were usually bnilt ia the tign, 
ayoaai. This was the case at Sputa ; and Psusanias JufoTtDS 
us that it was also the case at OrchomenK and Olyia{iia. The 
Graces, therefore, must be reckoned amongst the Oiat nT«- 
pnioi. Cicero aajs, — " Ojiortet quoque in dvitate hene inati- 
tala templmn esse Grfltiarum, ut taeminerint hominea gratiaa 
nne reTerendas." 

IP The fcllowia^ figure viU explain what is mEOnt hj dlamH- 
ttical conjuaction 1 — 
Co C. 

immerdol interconrae. A lakes so mi 

^to C, and B takes in excbaoge C. and 

effected either by direct barter, or by me 

miaBurc, money. Respecting " valne," an 

nected with il, the student ia referred to at 

" (a of the reli 

iny D'e as are equal 
this equaJiiatioD it 
«us of the commou 
id the subject* con- 
if I leatises on pali> 

■ iMtween demand 'xp"") '"•^ 'al"e in the Polities, I. i 

130 ARISTOTLE'S [book v. 

therefore buglit to receive from tlie shoemaker some 
of his work, and to give him some of his own in re- 
turn. If, therefore, there be proportionate equa- 
lity in the first instance, and then retaliation take 
place, there will be the state of things which we 
described j if not, there is no equality, nor any 
Equality bond to hold commercial dealings together : for 
^^^ there is no reason why the work of one should not 
Syobwrv- ^® better than the work of the other ; these things, 
ing the re- therefore, must be equalized ; and this is true in 
lative pro- the case of the other arts also ; for they would be 
portion of p^^ an end to, imless equality were observed be- 
[^'*^**tween the dealer and the person dealt with, both 
4^ as regards quantity and quality. For conmiercial 
intercourse does not take place between two physi- 
cians, but between a physician and an agriculturist, 
and generally between persons who are different, 
and unequal ; but it is necessary that these be made 
equal Therefore it is necessary that all things, of 
which there is interchange, should be in some 

5. manner commensurable. And for this purpose 
mbney came into vise : and it is in some sense a 
median, for it measu^^s everything; so that it 
measures excess and defect ; for example, it measures 
how many shoes are equal to a house or to a certain 

6. quantity of food. As therefore the builder to the 
The neces- shoemaker, so must be the number of shoes to the 
sity of a house or the food ; for if this be not the case, there 
meagre ^^ ^® ^^ interchange, nor commerce. But this 

proportion cannot exist, unless the things are in 
some manner equal. It is therefore neoessary tlat 
all things should be measured, as was before said, 
by some one thing. 

7. Now, demand is in reality the bond which keeps 
Tlie com- all commercial dealings together. For • if men 
iuon mea- -^j^anted nothing, or not so much, there would not 
^demand)"* ^® ^^7> ^^ ^^* ^ much conunerce. But money is 
or its sub- as it were the substitute for demand ; and henco 
stitate, it has the name vofjucrfia, because it.xs not so by 
j^oney. nature, but by law (I'o/iw), anji becaiise it is in oar 
J«fined ^^^^ power to change it, and render it uselese. 



Mr. v.] ETHICS. 131 

There will, tlierefore, be refaliationj wLen equalize- ?- 
tion has taken place. As, tliei-efore, the agricultui-ist _!'■"«•»- 
to the shoemaker, so is the work ol' the alioemaker ' ''"" 
to tliat of the agriculturist. But when they make 
an exchange, it is necessary to hiing them to the 
ibrm of a, proportion, for otherwise oae extreme will 
have both excesses of the mean. But when they 
have thdr own rights they arc equal, and able to doil 
with one another, because this equality ia able to 
take place between them. Let the agricultmist be .V, i\ 
the food 0, the shoemaker B, and his work made 
equal to the agriculturist's work D. But if it had 
been impaiable for them to have made this mutual 
return, there would have been no commercial in- 
tercourse between them. Now that demand, being 
as it were one thing, is the bond which, iu 
such circumstances, holds men together, ia proved 
by the iact that when two men have no need of ouf 
another (nor one baa need of the other) they do not 
have commercial dealinga together ; as they do wheii 
oue is iu need of what another has (wine, for in- 
stance), giving in return com for exportation. They 
must, theretore, be made equal. 

But with a view to future exchange, if we have jg 
at present no need of it, money is, as it were, onr Monrj • 
surety, that when we are iu need we shall be abto pledee tint 
to make it ; for it ia necessary that a man who "b miif 
brings money should he able to get what he requires, ^bunel 
But even money is liable to th« same objection as ^heu •« 
other commodities, for it is not always of equal mmc ^f . 
value ; but, nevertheless, it is more liely to n- 
main firm. Therefore all things ought to have n 
measure of value ; for thus there will always l« 
exchange, and if there is this, there will be con;- 
merce. Money, therefore, as a measure, hy making 
things commensoiable, equalizes them ; for thert 
could be no commerce without exchange, no e»- 
olumge without equahty, and no equality without 
the possibility of being commensurate^ Saw, lb ^-^ 
roality, it is impossble that things so widely dif* 
feront should become commensurable, but it is euH- 

132 ARISTOTLE'S [book v. 

ciently possible as fiax as demand requires. It is 
necessary, therefore, that tliere be some one thing ; 
and this must be decided by agreement. Where- 
fore it is called money (vo/xc(r/ia) ; for this makes 
all things commensurable, for all things are mea- 

12. sured by money. Let a house be A, ten minse B,*i 
lUastra- a bed C. Now, A is half B (supposing a house 
^^^* to be worth or equal to ^ye minse), and the bed 

a tenth part of B, it is clear, therefore, how 
many beds are equal to a house, namely, five. But 
it is clear that this was the method of exchange 
before the introduction of money ; for it makes no 
difference whether five beds, or the price of ^ve 

13. beds, be given for a house. Now we have said 
what the just and what the unjust are. But this 
being decided, it is clear that just acting is a mean 
between acting and suffering injustice ; for one is 

Jaslicc and having too much, and the other too little. But 
the other justice is a mean state, but not in the same manner 
differ in ^ ^^® before-mentioned virtues, but because it is of 
that iuaiov ^ mean, and injustice of the extremes.' And jus- 
is itself a tice is that habit, according to which the just man 
vitAn. ig ggi^ ^ ^c dlsposcd to Dractiso the lust in accord- 

auce mth deUberate pJerence, and to distribute 
justly, between himself and another, and between 
two other persons ; not so as to take more of the 
good himself, and give less of it to the other, and 
inversely in the case of evil : but to take an equal 
share aLrding to proportion ; and in like maimer 

14. between two other persons. But injustice, on the 
Injustice contrary, is all this with respect to the unjust ; and 
defined. ^Yns is the excess and defect of what is useful and 

hurtful, contrary to the proportionate. Wherefore 
injustice is both excess and defect, because it is pro- 
ductive of excess and defect; that is, in a man's 

4 On the subject of Greek money, see the articles and 
tables in Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities. 

' The other virtues are mean habits between two extremes ; 
e. g,f courage is a mean between rashness and cowardice ; 
justice, on the other hand, is not in the mean between two 
extremes, but its subject-matter (to diKOtov) ii a mean be-> 
iween too much and too little. 


own case excess of what is absolutely good, tmd de- 
fect of what is hurtfdl ; but in the case of others, 
his conduct generally is the same : but the violation 
of proportion is on either side as it may happen. 
But in the case of an unjust act, the defect is the 15* 
l>eing injured, and the excess to injure. Now, re- 
specting justice and injustice, and the nature of 
each, as aJso respecting the just and the unj'.ist, let 
the manner in which we have treated the subject be 
deemed sufficient. 


Cf Political and Economical Justice.* 

But since it is possible for him who does unjust i. 
acts to be not yet unjust, by the commission of An unjust 
what sort of uniust acts does a man become at once J*^* ^^^ 1*** 
unjust in each particular kind of injustice ] as, for of injustise. 
example, a thiei^ an adulterer, or a robber] or is this 
question of no consequence ? for a man might have 
connection with a woman, knowing perfectly who 
she is, and yet not at all from deliberate preference, 
but from passion. He therefore commits an unjust 2. 
act, but is not \mjust ; just as he is not a thief, but 
he has committed theft ; nor an adulterer, but he 
has committed adultery ; and in like manner in all 
other cases. Nov, the relation which retaliation 3, 
bears to justice has been already stated. But it 
ought not to escape our notice, that the abstract 
and political just is the just of which we are in 
search ; but this takes place in the case of those Political 
who live as members of society, with a view to self- jutticc 

* From the discussion of the subject of moral justice, Aris- 
totle proceeds to that of political, and states that, according to 
its principles, he who commits an unjust action is not neoes- 
sariij a morally unjust man : as he might have acted not of 
deliberate purpose (which is essential to a moral act), but 
from impulse or passion. In morals, regard is paid to Ihe 
intention, in civil wrongs we only look to the action doDe« and 
the damage or wrong inflicted. — See Michelct's Com. p. 177. 

U4 ARISTOTLE'S [book v. 

sufficiency, and who are free and equal either pro- 
^- portdonatelj or numerically. So that all those 
who are not in this condition have not the political 
just in relation to one another, but only a kind of 
just, so called from its resemblance. For the term 
just implies the case of those who have laws to 
which thev are subiect : and law implies cases of 
injustice /for the administration of law is the de- 
cision of the just and the unjust. Now, injustice 
always implies an unjust act, but an unjusfc act does 
not always imply injustice. Now, to act imjustly 
means to give to one's self too great a share of abso- 
lute goods, and too small a share of absolute evils. 

5. This is the reason why we do not suffer a man 
We lo not to rule, but reason ; because a man rules for him- 
■'*^*''** self, and becomes a tyrant. But a ruler is the 
reason to guardian of the just ;" and if of the just, of equality 
govern us. also. But since a man seems to get no advantage 

himself if he is just (for he does not award too 
much absolute good to himself, except it be propor- 
tionately his due), for this reason he acts for others ; 
and hence they say, as was before also observed, 

6. that justice is i^Lother man's good. Some compen- 
sation must therefore be given ; and this is honour 

Afcr/rorc- and prerogative : but all those who are not content 
Kbv i?kai- with theirs become tyrants. But the just in the 
•V, Trarpi- ^^^^ ^£ master and slave, and fe-ther and child, is not 
7^ the same as these, but similar to them ; for there is 
not injustice, abstractedly, towards one's own; a 
possession and a child, as long as he be of a certain 
age, and be not separated from his father, being as 
it were a part of him ; and no man deliberately 
chooses to hurt himself ; and therefore there is no 
injustice towards one's self; therefore there is 
neither the political just nor unjust ; for political 
justice was stated to be according to law, and in the 
case of those between whom laws naturally exist ; 
and these were said to be persons to whom there 
belongs equality of governing and being governed. 

** For rulers are not a terror to good works, but Ui t)^ 
evil. — Bom. xiii. 3 ; gee also 1 Pet. ii. 14. 




Hence, the just exists more between a husbands, 
and wife thai between fattier and ehild, or master 
and slave; for this is economic justice ; but this, oJiarqfit' 
too, dilfers from political justice.' ""> 

O/KalnrBi and Legal Justice. 

Of the poUtical juat, one part is natural,'' and i. 
the other legal. The naitiral ia that which every- Politictl 
where is equally valid, and depends not upon being J"'™ ** 
or not being received. But the legal is that which yodg; 
originally was a matter of indifference, but which, NabmiL 
when enacted, ia ao no lunger; as the price ofL«B^ 
ransom ' being fixed at a mina, or the aacrificing a 
goat, and not two sheep ;* and further, all parti- 
cular acts of legislation ; &a the sacrificing to Bra- 
fiidas,* and all those matters which are the subjects 
of decreea.i' But to some persons all just things 1, 

' It is freqnently AriEtotle'g praclice to eiamiao different 
eiiiting Iheories, and to Ehaw how Far his owa coincides with 
thero. Hence, as justice was divided into political and econo- 

)t belong to 

D Bfaon 

n of political justice. It 

■s the u 


■ See tlie Rhetoric, Book 1. niii., in which be quotes Anti- 
gone's defence of her determination to bary Polynices, as an 
ciample of natnTBl justice. Lrgnl jmtiee is that which is 
established by the law of Iho land, or arbitrarily and conren- 
lionally; e.g. killing H min is natumlly unjnit,— Hilinj a 
Lare, conienUoDally or legalli. 

lisjOli EBJS, ■ 

ill the Pelopon 


mina-, Herodotos [Book VI. 
ponneniins fixed tito minse as the ranso 
• Herodotns (II. xlii.). All who i 

, that the Pe]o- 
ni of a prisoner of war. 
sairifico to the Theban 

fferins aheep, and sacrifice goats ; 

;e Thncydides. BookV. 
hero-wonhip offered ti 

LUKct of tbe legislature puiri 

it does not 


I3d ARISTOTLE'S Lbooi: r. 

appear to be matters of law, because that which in 
natiiral is unchangeable, and has the same power 
everywhere, just as fire bums both here and in 
Persia ;' but they see that just things are subject to 
change. This is not really the case, but only in some 
sense ; and yet with the gods perhaps it is by no 
means so ; but with us there is something which ex- 
ists by nature ; still it may be argued, everything 
3. with us is subject to change, yet nevertheless there 
That na- is that which is by nature and that which is not." 
tural justice Qf things contingent, what is natural and what i» 
ch^^ aot natural, but legal, and settled by agreement 
does not (even granting that both are alike subject to change ), 
prove t^t^ is evident ; and the same distinction will apply to 
all other cases; for, naturally, the right hand Ls 
stronger than the left ; and yet it is possible for 
some people to use both equaUy. But that justice 
which depends upon agreement and expediency, 
resembles the case of measures; for measures of 
wine and com are not everywhere equal ; but where 
men buy they are larger, and where they sell again 
smaller.^^ iind in like manner, that justice which 

for a temporary purpose, whereas a law (v6/xog) is perpetual. — 
See also c. x., and Polit. lY. iv. 

' This Greek proverb is said to have originated from the 
circumstance, that the Greeks came in contact with Persia 
almost exclusively among foreign nations. Compare Cic. de 
Repub. iii. : " Jus enim de quo quserimus, civile est, aliquod 
naturale nullum ; nam si esset, ut calida et frigida et amara 
et dulcia, sic essent justa et injusta eadem omnibus.'' This 
was the opinion of the Pyrrhonists, and was afterwards sup- 
ported by Cameades, the founder of the new academy. On the 
opinions of the Sophists on this subject, see Plato de Leg. 
p. 889 ; Gofgias, p. 482 ; Repub. p. 338 ; Protag. p. 337 ; 
Theset. p. 172. — Brewer^ p. 195. 

■• The text here followed is that cf Bekker : that of Cardwell 
is somewhat different ; but, nevertheless, whichever reading is 
adopted, the meaning of the passage will still be the same. 
Michelet gives the following Latin paraphrase: '^ Jus apud 
Deos est immutabile, jus apud homines iuutabile omne ; sunt 
tamen nihilominus hominum jura qusedam naturalia, qusedanc 
non.'' He adds, that he considers Bekker 's reading the true 
one : for further discussion of this passage the reader is re- 
ferred to his Commentary, p. 182. 

M It is difficult to say whether Aristotle here alludes to a 

ohap. vin.] ETHICS. 137 

is not natural, but of man's inventioK, is not every- 
where the same; since neither are all political con- 
stitutions, although there is one which woald be by 
nature the best everywhere ; but there can be but 
one by nature best everywhere. 

Every principle of justice and of law has the 5. 
relation of a universal to a particular ; for the 
things done are many ; but each principle is sin- 
gular ; for it is universal. There is a difference , • •, 
between an unjust act and the abstract injust, ^t^'^ ^.nd'dJiKCf 
between a just act and the abstract just ; for a differ : so 
thing is unjust partly by nature, or by ordinance, alao do ^c 
But the same thing, as soon as it is done, becomes ^"j*'^" 
an unjust act; but before it was done it was not yet ^^ ^^^ ^J 
an unjust act, but unjust ; and the same may be jcotoirpd. 
said of a just act. The common term for a just 79/<a* 
act is more correctly ^iKaioirpayrifia, and ^iKaiiOfia is 
the correction of an unjust act. But of each of 
these, what and how many species there are, and 
with what subjects they are conversant, must be 
ascertained afterwards. 

CHAP. vni. 

0/ihe Three Kinds of Offences, 

Now, since the abstract just and unjust are what 
they have been stated to be, a man acta unjustly 
and justly whenever he does these things volun- 
tarily ; but when he does them involuntarily, be 
neither acts imjustly nor justly, except accidentally; 
for he does acts which accidentally happen to be 
just or unjust. But an imjust act and a just act 2, 
are decided by the voluntariness and involimtari* 

local custom or to one acted upon generally between exporting 
and importing nations. He may possibly be referring to cue 
similar to that which exists in the London milk>trade» in 
which the barn gallon, as it is called, of the wholesale dealer* 
Is larger than the imperial gallon, by which milk ks retailed. 

13« ARISTOTLE S tBooK r. 

An action ness of them ; for whenever %a act is voluntary it 

"•^a^'h ishtamed ; and at the same time it becomes an iin- 

ite'^ing^ just act : so that there will be something unjust 

done vo- which is not yet an unjust act^ except the condi- 

Inntarily tion of voluntariness be added to it. I call that 

or mvo- voluntary, as also has been said before, which (bein^r 

luntanly. • v* \ j i • i j 

■^ 3 m his own power) a man does knowingly, and 

not from ignorance of the person, the instrument, 
or the motive ; as of the person he strikes, the 
instrument, and the motiv^e of striking, and each 
of those particulars, not accidentally, nor by com- 
pulsion ; as if another man were to take hold of his 
hand, and strike a third person ; in this case he did 
it not voluntarily, for the act was not in his own 
4. power. Again, it is possible that the person struck 
Also by the should be the fiither of the striker, and that the 
^^?^ striker should know him to be a man, or be one of 
and by ' i^® company, and yet not know him to be his own 
the motive, lather. Let the same distinction be applied in tho 
ca^eof the motive, and all the other particulars 
• d.ttending the whole act. Consequently, that which 
is done through ignorance, or if not done through 
ignorance, is not in a man's own power, or is done 
through compulsion, is involuntary. For we both 
do and suffer many things which naturally be£Eill 
us, not one of which is either volimtary or invo- 
luntary; as, for example, growing old, and dying. 

6. But the being done accidentally may occur in the 
Accident, ^j^se of the imjust as well as of the just ; for a man 

might return a deposit involuntarily, and through 
fear^ and yet we must not say that he does a just 
actj or acts justly, except accidentally. And in 
like manner we must say that that man accidentally 
does, an unjust act, and acts unjustly, who upon com- 
pulsion, and against his own will, refuses to return a 

7. deposit. But of voluntary acts, some we do from 
deliberate preference, and others not. We do those 
ll^om deliberate preference which we do after pre- 
vious deliberation ; and we do those not from deli- 
berate preference which we do without previous 

8. deliberation. ITow« fdnci) there are three kinds of 


Jiurts" in the intefcourse of aociety, those whict are BXafoi. 
done in ignomnce are mistakes, i. e. wbeaerer a 
man docs the mischief to a different person, in a 
different manner, with a different inatrunient, or 
from a different motive from what he intettded ; for 
perhaps he did not intend to strike, or not with 
this instrument, or not this person, or not for this 
purpose, but something different to his purpose 
happened ; Bfi, for example, he did not intend to 
■wound, but merely to prick ; or he did not mean 
to wound this person, or not in this manner. 

When, therefore, the hurt takes place contrary 9, 
to expectation, it is an accident ; when not contrary ■Atu^ii/ih 
to expectation, but without wicked intent, it is a 'AfidprK- 
mistake ; for a man makes a mistake when the '"'' 
prinraple of causation is in himself ; but when it is 
external, he is unlbrtunate. But when he does it 10. 
knowingly, but without previous dehberation, it is 'Allaiiia. 
an imjust act, as all those things which are done 
through anger, and the other passions, which are 
necessaty or natural ; for by such hurts and such 
mistakes they act tmjustly, and the actions are im- 
juat ; still the doers are not yet on this accoimt 
unjust or wicked ; for the hurt did not arise fiom 
depravity. But when any one acts from deliberate n, 
preference, he is then unjust and wicked. Hence, Jlpoaipiait 
very properly, acts done through anger are de- ™i«h'ota» 
cided not to proceed from premeditation ; for he "^'^lit. 
who acts through anger is not the originator, but jj 
he who angered him. Again, even the question is 
not one of fiict, but of justice ; for anger is felt at 
apparent injustice,''^ for there is no dispute, as in 
the case of contracts, respecting the &ct (in which 
rase one of the two must be vicious, unless they do 
1 it from forgetful ncss), but, agreeing about the fact, 

I " See tbe Rhetoric, I. xiii. FrDpcrly Ihere are four kind! of 
■ lurta:- 

I . 'irav jrapaXnyiac i) p\iSii ykvifTai — Cajnu. 

'i. Brof /i^ irapa\iyuie, ivcv li xanin^ — Caljia. 

:t. Zrai' iliiie atv iii) irpoiavy.fiiaac ii—Dolui tndirtttUt 

.1 •J..^„I,^...^.J..... 


luc — DolBt dhtclui. — JlicMei, 
' See defioitioa of taga in Rhel. Book II. 

14C ARISTOTIE'S Tbook v. 


they dispute on which side is the justice of the case* 
But he who plotted against the other is not Igno 
rant, so that the one thinks himself injured, but 
the other does not think so. Ka man has done 
harm from deliberate preference, he acts imjustly ; 
and he who in such acts of injustice acts unjustly is 
forthwith imjust whenever his acts are contrary to 
the proportionate and the equal act. 
13. In like manner, too, the just man is he who on 
deliberate preference acts justly ; but he acts justly, 
provided he only acts volimtanly. But of involun- 
tary actions, some are pardonable, and others un- 
pardonable ; for all those acts which are done, not 
only ignorantly, but through ignorance, are par- 
donable ; but all which are done not through igno- 
rance, but ignorantly, through passion neither 
natural nor hiunan,'^ are unpardonable. 


Qf being Injured, and thai no one can be injured with hit own^ 


1. But it might be questioned whether sufficiently ac- 

Wheder curate distinctions have been made on the subject of 

bikire *^*" receiving and committing injustice. First, whether 

himself. i* ^y ^ Euripides has absurdly said, " He slew my 

mother ; the tale is short ; willing he slew her 

willing ; or imwilling he killed her willing." ^^ For 

is it really true, or is it not true, that a person can 

with his own consent be injured ? or is not being 

injured altogether involimtary, just as committing 

*' Human passions are Xvtti;, 0o6oc, tkioq, grief, fear, pity ; 
the natural appetites are Trcli/a, ^i^a, hunger and thirst. 
We are inclined to pardon him who acts at the instigation of 
these ; e.g. we readily make allowance for a starving man who 
steals a loaf to satisfy the cravings of his hunger. 

^ Michaelis Ephesius, and a scholiast, quoted by Zell, attri. 
bute these lines to the Bellerophon, but it is mach more pro* 
bable that they are derived from the Alcmena — Erewer, 





inJQiy ia altogetlier Toluntary 1 or are all cases tliis 
■way or that way, just as committing injiiry is en- 
tirely Toluotary ; or aro some caaes Tolimteay and 
others involimtary 1 

And the same question arises in the case of being i, 
jVLStly dealt with ; for all just acting is voluntaty, 
Eo that it is reasonable to suppose that the receiving 
of -imjuat or just treatment should be sbniltirly op- 
])osed -with respect to the question of ToluntarineBs 
or involuntariness. But it would seem absurd, in 
the case of being justly dealt with, that it shonld 
be altogether voluntary; for some people ai-e justly 
dealt by without their consent.BS The truth is, even 3. 
the following question might be rsiaed, whether he 
who has Buffered an injury ia necessarily injured, or wtethe 
whether the case is not the same in suffering as in a maji ii 
acting 1 for in both cases it is possible to participate ^*aj« ' 
But it ia clear that it ^ .. 


just accidentally. But it ia clear that it 
IS tiie same in unjust actions ; for doing unjust unjustly, 
actions ia not STnonymoua with being unjust, and 4. 
suffering unjust actions is therefore not the same 
with being injured ; and in the case of acting justly 
and being justly dealt hy, the case is amilar, for it 
is impossible to he unjustly dealt by when nobody 
acts unjustly, or to bo justly dealt by when nobody 
acts justly. 

But if acting unjustly simply means hurting any 5, 
one voluntarily^ and the expre^on "voluntary" ^^'; 
means knowing the person, the instrument, and the ^ jniurv 
manner, and if the incontinent maji hurts himself 
voluntajjly, then he would be injured volimtarily, 
and it would be possible for a man to injure him- 
self ; but this likewise ia one of the disputed points, 
whether it is possible for a man to injure himself. 
Agiun, a man might, through incontinence, be 6. 
voluntarily hurt by another person acting volun- 
tarily, so that it would be possible for him to be 

B agere, jua pHti; injuitiun Bgete, uijUEtOD 

■Ken, juetam psli. 

142 ARISTOTLE'S [book -y 

voluntarily injured. Or is the definition incorrect, 
and must we add to the statement that he who 
hurts must know the person^ the instrument; and 
the manner, the condition that it must be against 

7. the other's will? Then it follows, that a person 
can be voluntarily hurt and suffer acts of injus« 
tice, but that no one can be voluntarily injured: 
for BO one, not even the incontinent manf^niies t^ 
be injured, but he acts against his wish; for no one 
wills what he does not think good, but the incon- 
tinent man does what he thinks that he ought not 

8. to do. But he who gives away his own property 
T'lacase ^^g Homer says that Glaucus gave to Diomede 
ofGlaucus. WgQi^jen arms for brazen, the price of a hundred 

oxen for the price of nine")^ is not injiu^d, for the 

act of giving is in his own power ; but being injured 

is not in a man's own power, but there must be an 

injurer. With respect to being injured, therefore, 

it is plain that it is not voluntajry. 

9^ Of the questions we proposed, two yet remain to 

Whether be discussed : first, whether he who has awarded 

the giver or the larger share contrary to right valuation, or he 

the receiver ^j^^ j^^^ j^^ commits the injury ; secondly, whe- 

^d whether *^®^ ^* ^ possible for a man to injure himself; 

a man by for, if the truth of the first question be possible, 

awarding and it is the distributor, and not he who gets 

too little ^QQ great a share, then, if a man knowingly and 

iniurM^ voluntarily gives to another a greater share than 

himself. to himself, this man injures himself ; and moderate 

10. men seem to do this, for the equitable man is apt 

to take too small a share. Or is it that this is 

never absolutely the easel for perhaps ho got 

more of some other good, as of reputation, or of 

the abstract honourable. Besides, the difficulty is 

solved by the definition of the term " acting im- 

justly," for he suffers nothing against his wish ; so 

*k <( For.Diomede's brass armS| of mean device. 
For which nine oxen paid (a vulgar price), 
He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought, 
A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought." 

Pope's Horn. II. vi. 292. 


that for this i-eaaoa at least he ja not injured, but 
il' he suQers anything it is only liurt. 

Moreover, it is clear that the distributor, and not n. 
he who gets too much, acts unjustly ; forhedoeanot Tht que*> 
act unjustly to whom the abstract unjust attoches, '""■ ""• 
but he to whom attaches the acting voluntarily ; and '"*' " " 
the voluatariness attaches to him in whom is the 
origin of the act, which in this case is in the dis- 
tributor, and not in tho rceeivor, Again, since the 12. 
espresaon " to do a thing" is used in many senses, 
aud in one sense inanimate things, and the hand, 
and a slave at his master's bidding, may kill ; tht- 
doer in these cases does not act unjustly, but does 
unjust things. Again, if a man dedded through jj, 
ignorance, he ia not unjust according to the legal 
idea, nor is his decision imjust ; but it is in some 
sense unjust, for there is a difference between legal 
and abstiact justice. But if he has knowingly made 
an unjust decision, he himself gets some adv&ntagt', 
either in the way of fevour or of revenge. The'Casd 14. 
is just the Eomo if a man participates in an act ^f 
injustice, and lie who &om such participation paBsr.>4 
an unjust judgment is considered to be a gainer ; 
for, even in the other cases, he who adjudged the 
field did not get the field, hut money. 

But men suppose, that to act unjustly is in their 15. Wh»- 
owa power, and for this reason they think that to '''"' '' ** 
act justly ia also easy. But this is not the ease ; Jj'^J? 
for to have connection with a neighbour's wife, and 
L to assault a neighbour, and to give away money with 
ftone's hand, is easy, and in one's own power ; but to 
Wdo this with a particular dispoation is neither msy 
• Tior in one's own power. In lite manner, men think IB- 
that there is no wisdom in kuowing things just and 
thiugs unjust, because it is not difficult to com- 
prehend the cases of which the laws speak ,' but 
these are not just acta except accidentally — when, 
indeed, they are done in a certain manner, and 
distributed in a oirtaia manner, they become jusi. 
But this is a more laborious thing than t« loiow 
I what thiugB are wholesome, since even in that 

1^^ ARISTOTLE'S [biook v. 

nort of knowledge it is easy to know honey, wine, 
and hellebore, and burning and cutting ; but to know 
how to apply them for the purposes of health, and 
to whom, and at what time, is as difficult as to be 
a physician. 
17. For this very same reason it is supposed that 
Erroneous acting unjustly belongs to the just man as much 
as acting justly, because the just man would be 
no less, or rather more able to do each of these 
things ; for he might have connection with a woman, 
and commit an assault, and the brave man might 
throw away his shield and turn and run away. 
18- But it is not merely doing these things (except 
accidentally), but doing them with a particular dis- 
position, that constitutes the being a coward or an 
imjust man ; just as it is not performing or not per- 
forming an operation, nor giving or not giving 
medicine, that constitutes medical treatment oi 
healing, but doing it in this particular way. But 
just acts are conversant with the case of those who 
participate in things absolutely good,^ and who can 
have of these too much or too little; for some 
beings perhaps cannot possibly have too much, as, 
for example, the gods perhaps; to others, again, no 
part of them is useful, but all injurious, as to those 
who are incurably wicked ; others, again, are bene- 
fited to a certain extent ; for which reason justice it; 
conversant with man. 


Of Equity t and the Equitable Man,^ 

1. The next thing to speak of is the subject of " the 
Equity equitable " and equity, and the relation that the 

differ. " ^AirXwc &ya9df are not only mental goods, but also riches, 

honours, and all things instrumental to virtue, which are in 
themselves absolutely good, but become evil by the abuse of 
them. — Michelet, 
^ On the subject of e«|uity see also Rhet. I. xis. 

ciTAP. X.] ETHICS. 145 

equitable bears to the just, and equity to justice; 
for when we examine the subject, they do not seem 
to bo absolutely the same, nor yet generally different. 
And we sometimes praise " the equitable," and the 
man of that character ; so that we even transfer the 
expression, for the purpose of praise, to other cases, 
showing by the use of the term "equitable" instead 
of " good," that equity is better. Sometimes, again, if 2. 
we attend to the definition, it appears absiu-d that 
equity should be praiseworthy, when it is something 
different from justice , for either justice mwrt be not 
good, or equity must be not just, that in, if it is 
different from justice ; or, if they are both good, 
they must be both the same. 

From these considerations, then, almost entirely 3. 
arises the difficulty on the subject of the e'quitable. Theyarenot 
But all of them are in one sense true and not incon--°PP°^*^» 
sistent with each other ; for " the equitable " is just, ^w iMer. 
being better than a certain kind of "just ;" and it is 
not better than " the just," as though it were of a 
different genus. Just and equitable, therefore, are |, 
identical ; and both being good, " the equitable " is 
the better. The cause of the ambiguity is this, that 
" the equitable " is just, but not that justice which is 
according to law, but the correction of the legally 
just. And the reason of this is, that law is in all 
cases universal, and on some subjects it is not pos- 
sible to speak universally with correctness. In those 5. 
cases where it is necessary to speak universally, but 
impossible to do so correctly, the law takes the most 
general case, though it is well aware of the incor- 
rectness of it. And the law is not, therefore, less 
right ; for the fault is not in the law, nor in the 
legislator, but in the nature of the thing ; for the 
subject-matter of htanan actions is altogether of this 

When, therefore, the law speaks universally, and $, 
something happens different from the generality of 
cases, then it is proper \vliere the legislator falls 
short, and has erred, from speaking generally, to 
correct the defect, as the legislator would himself 


146 ARISTOTLE'S tB<>^'»f ▼» 

direct if lie were then present, or as he would have 
legislated if he had been aware of the case. There- 
fore the equitable is just, and better than soioe kind 
of "just j" not indeed better than the ''absolute 
just,** but better than the error which arises fix>ni 
universal enactments. 

7. And this is the natui^e of " the equitable," that 
"Hie use of it ig a correction of law, wherever it is defective 
"^I'^^y- owing to its universality. Tliis is the reason why 

all things are not according to law, because on some 
subjects it is impossible to make a law. So thai 
there is need of a special decree : for the rule of 
what is indeterminate, is itself indeterminate also ; 
like the leaden rule in Lesbian building;^ for 
the rule is altered to suit the shape of the stone, 
and does not remain the same ; so do decuees difier 

8. according to the circumstances. It is clear, there- 
fore, what " the equitable " is, and that it is just, 

'y.rrifiKriQ atid also to what "just" it is superior. And from 
Jerineil. this it is clear what is the character of the equitable 
man ; for he who is apt to do these things and to 
do them from deliberate preference, who does not 
push the letter of the law to the furthest on the 
worst side,™"* but is disposed to make allowances, 
even although he has the law in his favour, is 
equitable ; and this habit is equity, being a kind of 
justice, and not a different habit from justice. 


That no Man injures himself. 

1. But the answer to the question, whether a man is 

Whether a ^\q to injure himself or not, is clear from what has 
uan can 

" Michael Ephesius says, — ** The Lesbians did not baild 
with stones, arranged so as to form a plane surface^ but 
alternately projecting and retiring." — Michelet, See also, 
Rhet. I. i. 

■«" This is the meaning of the well-known prOTCib,— 
'* Summum jus summt injuria.*' 




! cliisa of taincB iuat "U"" li!™* 
- ■ *-■! Kiriniini- 
^ Tersaljui- 

beon already said. g. j . 

IB that which is enjcined by law, according to virtue, ""^ '" 
is the miivcrisal acceptation of the term ; as, for tj^j 
example, it does not command a man to kill hira- 
•elf ; and whatever it does not command, it forbids." 
Again, whenever a man does hurt contrary to law, 2. 
provided it be not in retaliation, he voluntarily 
injures : and he acts voluntarily who knows the 
person, the inatnnnent, and the manner. Buthewho An ob- 
kilb himself tbrough nige voluntorily docs a thing jeriimi 
contrary to right reason, which the law does not sniwefol. 
allow. He therefore commits injustice, but against 
whom'! ia it against the state, and not against 
himself ) for he suffers Tolimtarily ; and a person 
eannot be injured with his own consent. Therefore, 
tdso, the state punishes him, and tjiere is a kind of 
diagrace attached to the s\ucide, as acting nnjustly 
towards the state, '^gmn, ia that kind of injustice 3. 
according to which ho who only acts unjustly, and Why a mtn 
not he who ia entirely wicked, is called unjust, it ?""'°| '"- 
is impossible for a man to injure himself; for this i.i* jn 
kind is different fi'om the other ; for he who is puticiiUr 
in this sense unjust, ia in some sort wicked, like joatiei. 
the coward ; not as being wicked in the iiillest 
sense of the term. So that he does not injure bim- 
Belf even in this way ; for if he did, it would be 
poaable that the same thing should be tidten from 
smd g^ven to the same person ; but this is Impossi- 
hie ; but the just and the unjust must always imply 
the existence of more jiereona than one. "Again, an *■ 
injury must be voluntary, proceeding from delibe- 
rate preference, and the iii'st of two hui'ta ; for he 

" The Greekt ncogninJ tho principle tbit it was the duty 

oftheiratate [a >upp«n the soactiont of virtoe bf IcguladiF 

eiiacttoenta ; Iha taoriil education of the people forrofid part of 

the legialatiTB sjatem. Hence the rale which Aristotle statra. 

•■ Que lei non jubet vetat." The principle* of onr law, oii 

the contrary, are derived from tlie Eomnn law, which confinet 

I fcselfin all casei to forbidding wrongj done to Bcxjetj. Hence 

1 Ilic rule with u» is exactly the conlra7, ■' Qna let non xetcl 

► fennilHt."— See Micbelet'i Notes, p. 195. 

I4« ARt&K^rias b [.vooA V. 

who retaliates because ho has su£fered, and inflicts 
the yery same hurt which he suffered, does not seem 
to act unjustly ; but he who injures himself is at 
once and in the same matter both agent and patient. 
*• Again, if this were the case, it would be possible to 
be voluntarily injured. And besides, no one act* 
unjustly without committing particular acts of in- 
justice ; but no man commits adultery with his own 
wife, nor breaks into his own house, nor steals his 
own property. But the question of injuring one's 
self is £^ially settled, by the decision we made on 
the subject of being voluntarily injured. 
6. It is also plain, that both to be injured and to 
Whether injure are bad; for one implies having less, the 
to comm? o^^cr having more, than the mean ; and the case is 
or to re- like that of the wholesome in the science of medi- 
oejTe an cine, and that which is productive of a good habit 
injury. ^f body in gymnastics. But yet to injure is the 
worse of the two ; for to injure involves depravity, 
and is culpable ; and either perfect and absolute 
depravity, or something like it ; for not every volun- 
tas act is necessarily joined with injustice ; but 
to suffer injustice is unconnected with depravity and 
injustice. Absolutely, then, to suffer injustice is 
less bad, but there is no reason why it should not 
®» accidentally be worse. But science cannot take 
notice of this ; for science calls a pleurisy a worse 
disorder than a bruise from a fall ; and yet the 
contrary might accidentally be the case, if it should 
happen that the man bruised was, owing to his 
fall, taken prisoner by the enemy, and put to 
deatL But, metaphorically speaking, and accord- 
ing to some resemblance, there is a kird of "just," 
not, indeed, between a man and himself, but be- 
tween certain parts of himself : but it is not "just" 
in the universal acceptation of the term, but such 
as belongs to a master or head of a family; for 
the rational part of the soul has this relation to 
fiw the irrational part. Now, looking to these points, 
it seems that there is some injustice towards one's 


self; because it is possible^ in these cases, to suffer 
fiomethiiLg contrary to one's own desires. Precisely, 
therefore, as there is some kind of "just " between 
the governor and the governed, so there is between 
these parts of the soul also. "With respect to jus- 
iice, therefore, and the rest of the moral virtuea^ 
kt the distinctions di*awH be considered sufficient. 




That '; is necessary to define right Bcoiun.* 

1* But since we happen to have already said that 

Right r«a- Q^gi^t to choose the mean, and not the excess or de- 

ndeied.' ^^ f ^^^ since the mean is as right reason^ deter- 

2. mines, let us discuss tliis point. In all the habita 

Joined with already mentioned, just as in everything else, thei^e m 

**Ih**^ a certain mark which he who possesses reason looks at, 

sometimes slackening, at others making more intense 

his gaze ; and there is a definite boundary of the mean 

states, which we assert to be between the excess and 

the defect, and to be in obedienpe to right reason. 

'^* But this statement, although it is true, is by no 

^sco^r ^^ iJEieans clear; for in all other studies which are the 

what it is. subjects of science, it is quite true to say, that w© 

ought not to laboTU" too much or too little, nor to be 

* Aristotle does not attempt to analyze all the intellectual 
virtues, nor indeed is this to be expected in a treatise which is 
practical rather than theoretical, — ethical, and not meta- 
physical. The proper place for the consideration of these is 
his treatise " de AnimH." His great object in this book is to 
ascertain the connection between the intellectual and moral 

^ Right reason (o 6p6bc Xoyoc) is that faculty of the soul 
which takes cognizance of truth and falsehood, both moral and 
scientific. All the virtues, therefore, both moral and inteU 
lectual, will be joined with right reason ; the moral virtues 
being joined with right rea^son on practical subjects, which is 
the same as prudence (0poi/ij(Ttc). The superiority of 
Aristotle's system in a practical point of view over that of 
Plato and Socrates, is ciear from the following consideration, 
amongst others, that the latter thought all the virtues 
" sciences/' and Xdyoi, whereas AristoUe held them all to 
be according to ** reason ** (Xoyov), and the moral virtues to 
be aooordini^ to " reason on practical subjectf." 



tHAP. I,] ETHICS. I5i 

idle too mucli or too little, but ia the mean, ajiil 
[iccoTilmg to the direction of rigkc reosini ; yet he 
■who only knows this would not possess any more 
of the knowledge which he reqiiiree ; he would nol, 
for instance, know what applicntions ought to he 
niflde to the bjdy, if a person were to tell him, that 
tiiey are those which the science of meiliciiie owlers, 
and which the person acqujuntcd with that science 
makes use of. Hence, it is necessary with resjiect to i. 
the habits of the soul also, not only that tliia should 
be stated truly, but that it should also be determined 
what right reason is, and what b the definition of it. 
Now, we made a division of the yirtuea of the soul, viitu-n m 
and said that part of them belonged to the moral cha- Che noul . 
rftcter, and part to the intejject. The moi-al virtues, ^•~~ 
■we hitve thoroughly discussed ; but let us in the ^^' 
same manner dLsciias the remainder, after having jectual. 
lirst spoken about the soul. 

There were before said to be two pai-ts of the Vmii uf 
soul, — t he ratio nal and the irrational ; but now we ""^ ^''■' 
must make tne same mfliTof division in the case of ^^^^^j _ 
the i^^al part ; and let it first he laid down, that irrationul. 
there are~Two" divisions of the rational part; one, Ratfanni 
by which we cont emplate those existing things, tlie ™*"l>'i''f<' 
principles of 'which are in necessarynialter; the~j^^^^ 
other, bywhichwe contemplate those^th'ej]rinoiplMofjjoi.iiii., 
which are contingent. For for the contemplation oTwhich is 
objects which dlHQr~i£~Eind there are coiTesjionding coqvei- 
parts of the soul differing in kind also, and naturally ^^,J^y 
ada]ited to each ; if it is from a kind of resemblance niaiMr. 
and aflinity that they obtain the knowledge of j^Dyion- 
tjiem. Let one of these be called the scientific, f"i "'""l' 
nod the other the I'eaaoning poit ;' for deliberating lift IJ!^* 

' In Ibia diyirion of the rational soul ( Xoyov now lUpiiui; niottn. 
lai (V BUT^) into two parts, the scieniific {imaTni^ovitiiy) 
and rosoning (Xajiarttii'), it must not be forgotten thot 
" reaeoil " is axed in iti Umited lense ; namel;, that it ie re- 
•Iriotcd to the faculty which takes cc^gnizHUce o( moral troth, 
iiidU nynonjniuuswith deliberation. — S'uBoukl. liii. ; also 
Ariiti. de Aniin£, iii. 9, >. 3. The focully by which the miml 
eontomplitet EtErual and immuUhle mattiir, tne scientific part 
tUiOT^Iiayuil'), or rait, a Urmcd in German, Vtraunft j 

152 ARISTOTLE'S [book vi. 

and reasoning are equivalent. Bat no person deli- 
berates upon necessary matter ; so that the reasoning 
part must be one division of the rational paart. We 
must therefore ascertain which habit is the best of 
each of thes6 two parts ; for this is the virtue of 
each ; but the virtue has reference to its peculiar 


That IVujfi is the peculiar work of all Intellect. 

!• Now, there are three principles in the soul which 
^"^ , have power o,ver moral action and truth : Sensa- 
KvpiaTije *io^ Intellect,*' and Appetite ; but of these, sensa- 
wpd^tuts. tion is the principle of no moral action; and this is 
AMifffic. clear firom the fact that beasts possess sensation, 
^*'*'|* but do not participate in moral action. But pui-- 

*^* suit and avoidance m appetite are precisely what 
^ . 2. affirmation and denial are in intellect.^ So that 
loov oftiie ^^ moral virtue is- a habit together with deli- 
XoyttTTiKbv berate preference, and deliberate preference is ap- 
iifoof . petite, together with deliberation, it is necessary, for 
these reasons, that the reasoning process be true, 

that which contemplates contingent matter (ro Xoyiffrticoj/), or 
dtdvoia, is Verstand. — See Michelet. 

^ Genus is asce^lained by considering the matter on which 
each art, &c. is employed : this the schoolmen called subjec- 
tum materiale, — \jKri, The differentia by considering its effect 
or object ; this is the subjectum formale. Truth, therefore, is 
the subjectum formale, or object-matter ; necessary or contin- 
gent matter the subjectum materiale, or subject-matter. — See 
Brewer, p. 221. 

* The word in the original, which is here translated '' intel- 
lect," is vovQj and is used in its most comprehensive sense; 
not in the limited sense in which it is used in chapter vi. 
By sensation {aiaOtioiQ) is meant the perception of tiie ex- 
ternal senses. 

' The Greek word is ^lavota, which properly means 
'' the movement of the intellect {vovq) onward in the inves- 
tigation of truth ; " but here, as in some other places, it if 
uwd loosely as synonymous with vovg. 

STliJ KTHICS. 153 

and the appetite correct, if the delihcTate preference 
is good ; and that the one aSIrm, and the other 
pnTBue, the saxae things. This intellect, therefore, 
and this truth are practical. 

Of the intellect, which ia contemplatiTC, and not 3. 
practical, or productive ; truth and falsehood con- And of the 
atitute the goodness and the badness ; for thia is ""»'"1/"'- 
the work of every intelleetu^ faculty ; but of *"'"'■ 
that part of it which is both practical and intel- 
lectual, truth, which is in agreement with right 

. desire. 

The deliberate preference, therefore, by which we 4. 

I are moved to act, and not the object for the aake of 
which we act, is tlie principle of action ; and desire 
and reason, which ia for the aake of Bomethin;;, is 
the origin of dehberate preference ; hence dehb&i;'. j 
preference does not esist without intellect and 
reason, nor without moral habit ; for a good course 
of action and its contrary cannot exi^ without in- 
tellect and mond character. 

Intellect of itself is not the motivr. principle of 5. 
any action, but only that intellect wliioh is for the 
Eomcthing, and is practical ; for thia governs the 
intellect which produces also ; for every person that 
makes anything, makes it for the ^ke of some- 
thing ; and the thing made is not an end abso- 
lutely, but it has reference to something, and 
belongs to some one ; but thia is not the case with 
the thing practised ; for excellence of action ia the 
end, and appetite is for this. Wherefore deliberate 6. 
preference is either intellect influenced by appetite, 
or appetite influenced by inteUect ; and such a prin- 
ciple is man. But nothing past ia the object ofManOw 
dehberate preference ; as no one dehberately prefers origin ot 
that Troy should Lave been destroyed ; for a man '*'*,<'"'' 
does not deliberate about what lias happened, but ' ■ 

what is fiiture and contingent. But what is past 
does not admit of being undone ; therefore Aga- 
thon rightly says, " Of this alone even God is du- 
pnved, the power of making things that are pani 



[book ti« 

7. never to have been.*^ Truth, theiefore, is the work 
of both the intellectnal parts of the soul; and tbc^ 
habits by which each part will best arrive at trath 
must be the virtiies of them both. 



There are 
five habits 
by which 
the soul 
arriyes at 

gent matter 

Clfihe Five hUelleciual Virtues, and Science in parti 

Beginking, therefore, fi'om the commencement, lot iiji 
speak of these things figain. Let the habits, there- 
fore, by which the soul arrives at truth by affirm- 
ation, or denial, be five in nimiber ;^ and these are 
Art, Science, Prudence, "Wisdom, and Intuition ; for 
it is possible to be deceived by supposition and 
opinion. Now, the nature of science is evident 
finom this consideration (if it is necessary to speak 
accurately, and not to be led by resemblances), that 
we all suppose, that what we know scientifically ia 
necessary matter. 

But contingent matter, as soon as it is beyond the 
province of contemplation, may exist or not, with- 

' Non tamen irritum 
Quodcunque retro est, efficiet ; neque 
Diffinget infectumque reddet, 

Quod fugiens seiuel hora vexit. — Hor, 

^ The five habits here spoken of have been arranged by 
Brewer, as follows, according to the kind of truth which each 
has for its object. See on this and other points connected 
with this part of the subject, his able introduction to the 
Ethics, Book V. 

Abstract truth. Practical or moral Truth with 
I truth. production. 

Principles. Deductions from 

1. yovc* 2. innTTnuri, 3. 6p6i*fi<ric. 

I I 

These united make vp 

4. r<x»'«f 



oiit our l)emg aware of it. The subject of scieuce, 
thci'efoi'e, has a nece&iary existence ; tlicrefore, it is 'eiti 
otemal; for tilings tliat ulisoluMy' exist from ne- i» ci 
cessity, are all eternal, and tlmigs eternal nro both °*"' 
uncreated and indestructible. -Again, all science it 
thought to be taught, and the subject of science to 3. 
be acquired by learning. But all learning ia derived 
from things preyioualy known, aa we also stated in 
the Analytics ; and is derived jiartly from induction, 
and partly from Byllogiam. Now, induction ia the And iaef- 
01-igin of the universal ; but a syllogism ia deduced fected by 
fi-om imiversals. There are, therefore, some princi- ByUogisui 
plea, from wliich a syllogism is deduced, which are ^,"' ""' 
not themselves syllogiatically established, they are 
therefore established by induction.J ^ Science, there - f. 
lore, is a demotistrative habit, a nd'to tliis Jmmtiofa 'Eiriinifi^ 
Ve must add the other parts, which we have given ^^S""^- 
in the Analytics ; for whenever a man ia convinced 
of anything, and the priuciplea are known, to hijn, 
he knows it scientifically ; for unless lie knows tbe 


better tlian the concluH 
esa science acciden^lly, _ Let scieni 
; been detlneil after '^Ma nianner- 



Oe contingent matter, one species is that which is 1. 
made, ana the other that wliicli is practised. Kow Diffwfnoa 
making and practice differ from each other; but nTm"- 

Tliere »re,mccorc;:ngto Arislotla. twnfcimlB of neceBsity,— aadiroi".St£, 

olate (ujrXiii) mnd hypothetiisal (it iitoein^Q). The for- 

: is in its ocn iiH'^ire immuUblemiil eteroal. tbe latter only 

^RnditioniUj bo i 4S. Tor instance, to u«« tlic illustration of 

EDststhius, u niBQ ia of neceiiiily sltliug »u long Bd he ii ^tting. 

tbe obsprvation of h nninbti of particular facta we 
It a UDiverul principle, wbinb can be aaed u ooe of 
miues of ■ eyllogiEin. Tbit proceai isiaduvtiua,— Sea 
tliet. Book I. c. i. I BbiD Wltateley'a 1/igic. 

156 ARISTOTLE'S [buok ti. 

'^hese points have been proved in our exoteric dis- 
courses : so that the practical habit, together with 
reason, differs from the productive habit together 
■with reason : nor are they included one under the 
other : for neither is practice making, nor making 

2. practice. But since house-building is an art, and 
the same thing as a habit of making joined with 
reason, and there is no art which is not a habit of 
makinfif loined with reason, nor any such habit 
whicli is not an art, an art and a habit of making 
joined with reason must be one and the same thing. 

3. All art is conversant with three processes, — ^Pro- 
Art is con- duction, Contrivance, and Contemplation ; in order 
vereantwith ^jj^^ something may be produced, the existence and 
Tt^vdlfiv iioJi-c^^^istence of which are contingent, and the 
yevuriQ. ' principle of which is in the doer, and not in the 

thing done ; for art is not concerned with things 
that exist or originate necessarily or naturally; for 

4. these things have their origin in themselves. But 
since making and practice are different things, it is 
necessary that art should relate to making, and not 
to practice. And in some sense chance and art are 
conversant with the same subjects, as Agathon also 
says, "Art loves chance, and chance loves art."^ 

Artdefined. Art, therefore, as has been said, is a certain habit 
of making joined with true reason ; and absence of 
art, on the contrary, is a habit of making joined 
with fidse reason, in contingent matter. 


0/ Prudence f or moral Wisdom, 

I, We should best understand the subject of prudencfi, 
The cha- if we were first to consider whom we call pru- 
racteristics dent. Now it seems to be the mark of the prudett 

^ Art and chance are concerned with the same subject- 
matter, and so dosely connected are they, that it is a well* 
known fact that many of the most important discoTeriei ui 
.he arts haye originated in accident' 

CHAP. ^1 ETHICS. 15; 

man to be able to deliberate well respecting what Ia 
good and expedient for himself; not in particular 
instances, as what sort of things are good for his 
health or strength, but what is good and expedient 
for living well. And a sign of this is, that we call 
men prudent on any particular subject, when they 
reason well, with a view to obtain some good end, 
in subjects where aii; is not concerned. So that 
generally he who is apt to deliberate, is prudent. 
But no one deliberates about things that cannot 2. 
possibly be otherwise than they are, nor about things Difference 
which do not admit of being done by himself. So l>etween 
that if science is with demonstration, and there is '^^^^^^ 
no demonstration in matters the premises of which i^rurr^/iii. 
are contingent (for such conclusions must all be 
contingent likewise), and it is not possible to deli- 
berate on necessary matter,^ then prudence cannot 
be science, or art : it is not science, because the sub- 
ject-matter of moral action is contingent ; it is not 
art, because the nature of practice differs from that of 
making. It remains, therefore, that it is a true habit 3. 
joined with reason, which is practical on the subjects 
of human good and evil ; for the end of making is 
something different from this,™ but the end of 
practice is not ; for goodness of practice is itself the 

For this reason we think Pericles, and those 4. 
like him, prudent men, because they were able to Illustration 
perceive what was good for themselves*, and for 
mankind ; and we think that this is the character 
of those who understand ceconomics and politics. 
Hence likewise we give to temperance its appella- Nominal 
tion ffiocppoffvyrjy as preserving prudence j^ fo r it pr e- definition ol 

^ I have followed the text of Bekker, in enclosing the second 
clause in the parenthesis ; Michelet, however, considers that 
this ought not to be the case. 

™ The end of iroiriffiQ is the thing made, the end of irpa^iQ 
is to gain skill, and to acquire the habit of making. 

" This derivation is given by Plato in the Cratylas, § 62. 
There are few truths more self-evident or more important 
than this, that temperance and virtue have a tendency to pre- 
serve, whilst intemperance and vice inevitably pervert and 

158 ARISTOTLE'S [book v.. 

serves moral rieas :.for the pleasant and the painful 

do not destroy or pervert all ideas ; for instance^ 

that a triangle has or has not its interior angles 

equa. to two right angles, but only the ideas which 

5- relate to moral conduct. Now the motives of moral 

tnlempe- conduct are the principles of moral conduct j but 

destroys ^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ been comipted tlirough pleasure, 

^poi/jjffic, or pain, the principle will immediately be invisible, 

but not and the knowledge that he ought to choose and 

kmarrinri' ^q (Jo everything for the sake and on account of this ; 

^povtitrig for vice has a tendency to destroy the principle. 

So that it necessarily follows that prudence is a true 

habit joined with reason, practical on the subject 

• of liuman goods. 

6. Moreover there arc degrees of excellence in art, 
J^y^ ^*^" but not in pinidence. And in art, he who volun- 
t tarily errs is the better man ;° but in prudence be 

is worse, just as is the case in the virtues ; it ia 
plain, therefore, that it is a virtue, and that it is not 
art And since there are two parts of the soul which 
have reason, it must be the virtue of one ; namely, 
the part which forms opinions :P for both opinion 

destroy the moral sense, and the knowledge of the principles 
of right and wrong. Although, owing to the intimate and 
close connection between the mind and the body, vicious in- 
dulgence of the passions will sometimes weaken the intellectual 
powers; yet it will not deprave and distort the power of 
apprehending scientific truth ; and there is no impossibility in 
a vicious man being a good mathematician. But vice will 
inevitably and certainly destroy the moral judgment, and make 
us think evil good, and good evil. As in the case of revealed 
truth, a blessing is promised to obedience to that law of virtue 
under which we are born : — " He that doeth my will shall 
know of the doctrine whether it be of God ;" so in the case of 
moral truth, the heart is to the way to the understanding. 

** See Seneca's Epistles, xv. " Vis scire quam dissimilis 
sit aliarum artium conditio et hujus ? In illas excusatius est 
voluntate peccare quam casu : in hac maxima culpa est sponte 
delinquere. Quod dico tale est. Grammaticus nou erubescit 
si soledsmum sciens facit, erubescit si nesciens. At in hac 
arte vivendi turpior volentium culpa est.'' 

P This is the same part of the soul which Aristotle has 
already called to XoyifrrtKov ; for when it is employed upon 
contingent matter it arrives not at truth absolutely, but 
opinion. Stability and permanence are characteristic of 

CHAP, ti.l ETHICS. J59 

and prudence take cognizance of contingsnt sub- 
jects. But yet it is not only a habit joined with 
reason : and a proof of this is, that there is a 
possibility of forgetting a habit of this kind; but no 
possibility of forgetting prudence. 


Of Intuition, 


But since science is a supposition, formed upon 
universals, and on things necessarily existent, and » 
there are principles of the subjects of demonstra- -^qvq is tie 
tion, and of all science (for science is joined with habit vipi 
reason), the habit wliich takes cognizance of the <^f>x*^*'- 
principles of that wliich is the subject of science 
cannot be science, or art, or prudence. . For the \\ 

subject of science is capable of demonstration ;. but 
these two habits are conversant with contingent 
matter. Consequently neither is wisdom conversant 
with these ; for it is the part of the wise man to 
have demonstration on some subject^. If, then, the 
means by which we arrive at truth, and are never 
deceived on subjects immutable and contingent, are 
science, prudence, wisdom, and intuition,^ and it is 
impossible to be any one of the first thi>Be, I mean 
prudence, wisdom, and science ; it remains that in- 
tuition must be the habit which takes cognizance of 
the principles of science. 

virtuous energies, as contrasted with tliose of science ; as our 
virtuous principles are developed and called. into action every 
hour of our lives ; and hence we cannot forget them, as we 
can the subjects of scientific knowledge, — See Book L c. x. 
<i The following is Aristotle's definition in the Magna 
Moralia (i. 35) of vovq, which I have translated " Intuition ;'* 
f . e. the habit which apprehends without any reasoning pro- 
cess. *0 vovQ ioTi TTcpi rdf apxd,Q rStv vofirdv rat tC^v 
6vru)V »/ fikv ydp iTrurTrffMii t&v iitr AvoSti^nag ovrnnf l9H^ 
«i V ^PXnl avair6dttKr(H* 

1«0 ARISTOTLE & [bcck vi. 

(y Wisdom. 

1. But in the arts we attribute wisdom^ to those who 
J?J"* " 8X3 most accurately skilled in the arts : for example, 
kinds • ^® ^^ Phidias a wise worker in stone, and Polycli- 
Uniyersal. tus a wise statuary, in this use of the word, meaning 
Particular, nothing more by wisdom than that it is the excel- 
lence of art. But we think that some are universally 
wise ; and not wise only in some particular art ; as 
Homer says in his Margitef^^ '' Hun the gods made 
neither a digger, nor a ploughman, nor wise in any 
other way." 

2. So that it is clear that wisdom must be the 
It is &Kpi- most accurate of all the sciences. The wise man 
ptnrdTii. mast therefore not only know the facts which are 

deduced firom principles, but must ahio attain truth 
Is com- respecting the principles themselves. So that wis- 
posedof dom must be intuition and science together, and 
yotJff and science of the most honourable subjects, having as 
"D^nlbom ^* '^^^ ^ hesA ; for it is absurd if a person thinks 
fpdvtitTic. political science, or prudence, the best thing pos- 

' 2!o0ta in its particular application to the arts signifies 
skill ; in its general signification the term is used to express 
the habit which apprehends both the principles of science and 
the deductions derived from them by demonstrations ; for this 
reason it is said to be composed of vovc and kiruTTrifJiTi. The 
following are instances given by Muretus of different applica- 
tions of the word ao^ia : — Homer (II. xv. 412) attributes to 
a skilful shipbuilder ira<rav (rotpiav, Xenophon called skil- 
fully-season^ dishes (xotpifffjiaTa, Athenaeus applies the word 
to musical skill ; and hence Cicero says, in his Tusculan Dif - 
putations (Book I.), *' Summam eruditionem Grseci sitam 
censebant in nervorum vocumque cantibus. * ' The term was also 
applied to poets. Thus Plato in the Phsedrus calls Anacreon 
6 <To0dc, aiid Cicero in the oration for Milo calls poets 
** Homines sapientissimi." 

■ Aristotle mentions the Margites of Homer in the Poetic, 
I 7 : besides the genuine poem, a spurious one appeared in 
later times. 


sible/ iinletia man is allowed to be the most excellent 
of all creat(jd things. If, then, what is wholesome 3, 
and good is different in the case of a man and a 
fish, but what is white, and straight, is always the 
same ; all will allow, that wisdom is always the same, 
but prudence difierent in different cases. For they 
wotdd say, that, considering every point well with a 
view to seltj is prudent, and to prudence they would 
commit the decision of these matters. Hence 
men say that some brutes even are prudent ; all, 
namely, ^hich appear to have a faculty of pro- 
viding for their own sustenance. But it is plain 4. 
that wisdom and the science of social life cannot The science 
be the same : for if men will call that wisdom o^ social 
which refers to what is expedient for themselves, 
there will be many kinds of wisdom : for there 
is not one single one which takes cognizance of 
the good of all animals, but a different one for 
each : unless, indeed, there is but one medical treat- 
ment for beings of all kinds. But if it be said 5« 
that man is the best of all living creatures, it makes 
no difference; for there are other things of a much 
more divine nature than man : to take, for instance, 
those which are most plainly so, the elements of 
which the world is composed. From what has been 
said, therefore, it is clear that wisdom is science and 
intuition united^ upon subjects the most honourable 
by nature. 

* As Socrates held the virtues to be sciences, and Plato 
taught that ^pSvi^triQ was the contemplation of the i^£a, it 
became necessary that Aristotle should carefully distinguish 
ffo<pia and 0p6vi}(nc* He therefore tells us that the end of 
the latter is practical truth, of the former theoretical truth ; 
that the latter is conversant with particulars as well as univer- 
sals, because in all moral action the important part is the 
practical application ; whereas the former is conversant with 
universals only. The practical application he calls afterwards 
(c. viii.) the extreme (r6 ((txcltov), and (c. xi.) the minor 
premiss. It has often been observed with truth, that the syl- 
logistic process is confined to the conviction of the intellect, 
but that in whatever cases we act as moral and rational beings, 
we act upon a syllogism. In this we are distingnishei from 
the inferior animals, who act from instinct. 


162 ARISTOTLE'S [book vi. 

6. For this reason men call Aiia.xagoras^ and Thales, 
Examples ^j^^ others of this description, wise, but not pru- 
agoraBaiid ^®^*> when they see that they are ignorant of what 
^laleg. is expedient for themselves. And they say that they 

are acquainted with subjects which are superfluous, 
and wonderful, and difficult, and divine, but yet use- 
less, because they do not study the subject of human 
good. But prudence is concerned with human 
affidrs, and those subjects about which it is pos- 
sible to deliberate. For this, that is, to deliberate 
well, we say is the work of the prudent man espe- 

7. But no one deliberates about things which cannot 
be otherwise than they are, nor about those of 
which there is not some end, and this end a good 
capable of being the subject of moral action. But 
absolutely the good deliberator is he, who is skilful 
in aiming at the best of the objects of human 
action. Nor yet is prudence limited to universals 
only, but it is necessary to have a knowledge of 
particulars also : for prudence is practical, and prac- 
tice turns upon particulars. Therefore some who 
have no theoretical knowledge, are more practical 
than others who have it ; those, for example, who 

8. derive their skiU from experience. For if a man 
should know that light meats are ea^ of digestion, 
and are wholesome, without knowing what meats 
are light, he will never produce health ; but he who 
knows nothing more than that the flesh of birds ib 
light a^d wholesome, will be more likely to produce 
it. But prudence is practical, so that it is good 
io have both, or if not both, it is better to have 
thicL But there mu£t be in prudence also aomii 
ouujter vii*tue. 

cuAi». VIII.] ETITTCS lb*3 


Of the different parts qf Prudence. 

Now political prudence, and prudence, are the same l. 

habit, yet their essence is not the same. But of ^p6vti<jiQ 

prudence which is conversant with the state, one ^ *^® - 

I... ^.f. .. i*i<t I SCI6I1C6 or 

division, which is, as it were, a kind oi master- gocjal life 

prudence, is legislative ; a second, which is parti- differ in 
cular, is called by the common name political j but essence, 
this is practical; for a decree, as being the last 
thing, is the subject of action. Hence men say 
that practical statesmen alone regulate the state ; 
for these alone act, like artificers.^ But the pru- g 
dence which refers to one's self and the individual Various 
appears to be most properly prudence : and this species of 
bears the common name of prudence. But of those ^9^vria^^ 
three divisions,^ one is economical, the second legis- 
lative, and the third political; and of this last 
there are two sub-divisions, one the deliberative, 
the other the judicial. 

Now there must be a certain species of know- s. 
ledge, namely, the knowing what is good for one's 
self; but on this question there is great diflferenco 

" Practical statesmen manage the detail, and therefore are 
more properly said to regulate the state, as a mason, properly 
speaking, builds the house, and not the architect. 

npi avToV oiKov.ofu<:ii. TVipl iroXtv 
(icvptwc) j 

vofioOfTiKfi TroKiriKTf 

t. e, 'TrpaKTiKv, 


The divisions of prudence may be denominated persontlf 
economical, legislative, administrative, ezecative. 


161 ARISTOTLE'S [book vi. 

of opinion ; and lie who knows his own concerns, 
and employs himself in them, is thought to be pru- 
dent, but politicians appear busy-bodies. Therefore 
Euripides says, " How can I be prudent, I who had 
it in my power without trouble, by being numbered 
among the multitude of the army, to share alike ? 
For Zeus hates those who are busy-bodies, and do 

4. too much."^ For men seek what is good to them- 
selves, and think that this is what they ought to 
do : from this opinion, therefore, arose the idea that 
such people as these are prudent ; and yet perhaps 
it is not impossible to attain one's own good without 
economical, nor without political prudence. But 
still, it is an obscure subject, and one which requires 
inyestigatiou, how one ought to manage one's own 

A youug This is an evidence of the truth of what we have 

man maybe gaid, that yoimg men become geometricians and 
but not mathematicians, and wise in thmgs of this kind ; 
ppovifioQ. but it is thought that a young man cannot become 

5. prudent. The reason of this is, that prudence is 
conversant with particulars, and the knowledge of 
particulars is acqidred by experience alone ; but a ^ 
young man is not experienced L^o^ length of time /^ 

6. causes experience.% One might study this question I 
also, why a child can become a mathematician, but 
not wise, i.e. a natural philosopher ?^ Is it because 
the former subjects are derived from abstraction, 
whilst the principles of the latter are learnt from 
experience 1 And the latter subjects yoiing men 
enunciate, though they are not persuaded of their 
truth ; but the reality of the former is evident. 
Again, errors in deliberation are either in the 
imiversal, or the particular ; for the error is, not 
knowing, either that all heavy waters are tad, 

or that this water is heavy. 

^ These lines are said to be taken from a lost tragedy of 
Euripides, entitled ** the Philoctetes." 

' 2o06c fi <I>v<tik6c in the original. It is clear, therefore, 
that ^vffiKbtj is the explanation of the preceding word aop6c, 
and that the two togethet lenote one acquainted with natura* 

CHAP. ix.J ETHICS. 165 

It is clear that prudence is not science ; for 7. 
pnidence, as lias been said, is of the extreme ; for P™<1«?^<* 
this is the subject of moral action. Prudence isNorintu- 
therefore opposed to intuition : for intuition is of ition. 
those principles respecting which there is no reason- 
ing ; but prudence is of the extreme, of which there 
is no science, but only perception, not that percep- 
tion which takes cognizance of particular objects, 
but such perception as that by which we perceive 
the extreme in mathematics, a triangle for instance ; 
for it will stop there. But this is rather perception 
than prudence ; but still it is of a different kind 
from sensual perception.y 


Of good Deliberation* 

Investigation and deliberation differ, for delibera- 1. 
tion is a kind of investigation. But it is necessary "^v^oi^ ia 
to ascertain the genus of good deliberation, whether ? ^^^ / ^ 
it is a kind of science, opinion, happy conjec- 
ture, or what not. Now it certainly is not 
science ; for men do not investigate subjects which 
they know ; but good deliberation is a kind of 
deliberation; and he who deliberates investigates 
and reasons. Nor yet is it happy conjecture j for 2. 
this is something unconnected with reason, and Nor tv» 

y Prudence (^povjjtrrc) is not science (^7ri(rrr//ii7), because 
science is conyersant with universals, whereas prudence is 
conversant with particulars. These particulars are extremes 
(ecrxara), since they are the last results at which we arrive 
before we begin to act. The faculty which takes cognizance 
of them is perception (alffOrfffic) ; not the perception of the 
five external senses, but that internal perception which is 
analogous to them, and which is popularly called common sense. 
Hence we can see the difference between prudence and intuition 
(vovg) ; for the extremes of which intuition takes cognizance, 
are the first undemonstrable principles {dpxaif vp&roi ^poi), 
fiuch as the axioms, definitions, &c. in mathematical sdence. 
The intuition (vovg), therefore, here spoken of, is the pun 
intellectual intuition, not practical or moral intuition. 



Lboox VI 


It 18 an 

Not of 

Nor of 



But of 

is used in 



qitick j but we deliberate for a long tiine^ and 
aay, that it is right to execute quickly what we 
have resolved upon, but to deliberate slowly." 
Again, sagacity^ is a different thing from good deli- 
beration j and sagacity is a kind of happiness of 
conjecture. Therefore no kind of good deliberation 
is opinion. Now since he who deliberates badly, 
errs, but he who deliberates well, deliberates cor- 
rectly, it is plain, that good deliberation is a kind 
of correctness. It is not correctness either of science 
or of opinion ;^^ (for there is no correctness of 
science, because there is no error :) and truth is 
the correctness of opinion ; besides, everything of 
which there is opinion has been already defined. 
Still, however, good deliberation cannot be without 
reason. It remains, therefore, that it is the correct- 
ness of the intellect, moving onwards in the inves- 
tigation of tnith, i. e. ^tavota, for it is not yet an 
assertion ; but opinion is not investigation, but is 
at once an assertion. <^^ But he who deliberates, 
whether he does it well or ill, investigates something 
and reasons. But good deliberation is a sort of cor- 
rectness of deliberation ; therefore we must inquire 
what is the nature, and what the subject-matter, of 

Since the term correctness is used in more senses 
than one, it is plain that good deliberation is not 
every kind of correctness ; for the incontinent and 
depraved man will from reasoning arrive at that 
which he proposes to himself to look to ; so that he 
will have deliberated rightly, and yet have arrived at 

■ Bov\e{/ov fi€v $pa^€<»Sf ixtT€\ci 5^ rax^ofs. — Isocrat. 

•• In the later Analytics, i. 34-, ayx^yoia is defiued evarroxia 
^C kv d<rK£7rr(i) xP^vi^ tov fiktrov, A happy conjecture, with- 
out previous consideration, of the middle term. 

^^ Good deliberation is (1) not a correctness of science 
because there is no such thing as incorrectness of it ; (2) it is 
not a correctness of opinion {S6Ka)y because (a) the correctness 
of Bo^a is truth ; because (b) do^a is an assertion (^dyig), and 
not an investigation (ZfirritTig), 

«* Such I take to be the meaning of this difficult passage, 
which has been bo misunderstood by the majority of com- 
K^ntators. See on BidvoiUf note, p. 145. 



great evil W'jiei'etva good deliljeration seema to de 
R good thing ; for good deliberation is ualy such a 
correctness of deliberation as is likely to aiiive at 
good. But it iH possible to anive at even this by s. 
A &lso ^llogism ; and to be rigbt as to what one 
•ougbt to do, but wrong ua to tbe means, because 
the middle tann is false. So that even this kind of 
deliberation, by whidi one amves at a proper cou- 
duaion, bat by improper means, is not quite good 
deliberation. Again, it is possible for one man to 7_ 
be rigbt after deliberating for a long time, and 
atotber man veiy Boon. Ho tliat eren this is not 
quite good deliI«ration ; but good deliberation is 
that con'ectness of deliberation, which is in accord- 
ai.ce with the principle of utility, whicli baa a 
proper object, employs proper means, and ia in 
Operation during n proper length of time. 

Again it ia possible to deliberate weU both abac- ^ 
lutely, and relatively to some speoiCc end ; and that 
ia absolutely good deliberation vhich is correct with 
reference to the absolutely good end, and that is a 
specific kind of good deliberation which is correct 
vith reference to some speciiic end. If, therefore, 9. 
to deliberate well ia characteristic of prudent men, Ei^oiAi* 
good deliberation must be a correctneES of delibera- 
tion, in accordance with the principle of expediency 
having reiereiice to tlio end, of which prudence is 
the true oonception. 

' defined. 

0/ Inldligmci. 

IsTELLiGENCE, and the want of intelligence, according 1. 
to which we call men intelligent, and wanting in in- ^''y' 
tclligeuce, are neither universally the same as science ^ 
or opinion, for then all men would be intelligent ; n^,, g 
DOT is intelligence any one of the particular sciences, 
as medicine is the sdeuce of thincfa wholesome ; or 

^i8 ARISTOTLE'S [book n. 

2. as geometry is the science of magnitudes. Nor is 
intelligence conyersant with things eternal and im- 
mutable, nor with everything indiscriminately which 
comes to pass ; but it is conversant with those 
things about which a man would doubt and delibe- 

3. rate. Wherefore it is conversant with the same 
Iti object- subjects as prudence, yet prudence and intelligence 
matter. are not the same ; for the province of prudence is 

to order (for its end is whiat it is right to do^ or 
not to do) ; but the province of intelligence is only 
to decide ; for intelligence, and good intelligence, 
are the same thing ; for intelligent people, and 

4. people of good intelligence, are the same. But 
intelligence is neither the possessing, nor yet the 
obtaining, of prudence ; but just as learning, when 
it makes use of scientific knowledge, is called intel- 
ligence, thus the word intelligence is also used when 
a person makes use of opinion, for the purpose of 
making a decision, and making a proper decision, 
on the subjects of prudence, when another person 
is speaking ; for the terms well and properly are 

5. identical. And hence the name of intelligence, by 
Whence which we call intelligent people, was derived, namely, 
the term from that intelligence which is displayed in learning ; 

since for the expression " to learn," we often use the 
expression " to understand." 


Of Candour, 

1. But that wliich is called candour, with reference to 

which we call men candid, and say that they possess 

candour, is the correct decision of the equitable 

r^w/iij dc- man.^* But this is a sign of it ; for we say that the 

fined. equitable man, above all others, is likely to entertain 

a fellow-feeling, and that in some cases it is equitable 

^* Intelligence is that faculty which forms a judgnien! on 
things ; candour that which judges of persons. 


eB~p. «.] ETHICS. 1C9 

to entertain it. THow fHllow-feeling is tte correct i'uyjvuiii 
diacrimiiLatirig candour of the equitable ina;i ; anrf "'^fin™- 
that ia correct ■which ia the candour of the tnithiiil 
man. But all these hahita reasonahly tend to the 2. 
Bame point ; for we speak of candour, intelligence, Differeni 
prudence, and perception, referring to the same ^^^ ^ 
characters the possession of candour, of perception, ,(jg ^^^ 
of prudence, and of intelligence ; for all these iacal- jioini. 
ties are of the extremes, and of particulars. And 
it ia in being apt to decide on points on which the 
prudent man decides, that intelligence, kind feel- 
ing, and candour, are displayed. For equitable con- ^' 
Biderationa are common to all good men in their 
intercourse ■with others. But all matters of moral 
induct are particulars and extremes ; for the 
ident man ought to know them, and intelli- 
_ ice and candour are concerned ■with matters of 
moral conduct, and these are extremes. 

Intuition is of the extremes on both sides ;" for ^■ 
intuition, and not reason, takes cognizance of the 
first principles, and of the last results : that intu- 
ition ■which belongs to demonstration takes cogni- 
zance of the immutable and first principles ; that 
which belongs to practical subjects takes cognizance 

" lotaition (woiic), oa we have sefn abote, proporlT niEni- 
6et the faculty irbich tnkca r.ognizaoce of the firel principles 
of Mieace. Aiiatotle here, whether analogicElly or considering 
it a diiiaion of the Eame Ricultj, it is difficnlt Id mj. nppliea 
the term to that power which wc possess of apprehaading the 
pHociples of marals. of seeing what is right and wrong bj ar 

procxss. It is what Bishop ButJer calls "our iense of dis- 
cemment of actioOB as umrall]' goad or evil." In this t*0 - 
fold DSC of the tmn iiguc^ei^ii oo real meoDaJeteney. becaaau 
it is evidently, as Mr. fiitwer says, p. 247, note, " the Eame 
fkCDlty, whether employed upon the first principles of science 
or of morals." Every moral igent acts upon a motive (a £ 
tvita), whether good or bad. This motive ia, in other words. 
Ihr principle upon which we set, and is the major premiss of 
the practical syllogism (cuXAd^ur/ioc riuv irp(irrui<). Bat 
the minor premiss of the prsotiotl ayllagism besn relation Ic 
the major, of ■ pirticnlsr to a univet^al ; therefore as univer- 
sala are made up of particulars, it fallows that the origin 
h''px4^ of the motive or principle is the minor premiss. 

170 ARISTOTLE'S [book vi. 

of the last result of contingent matters, and of the 
Two kinds minor premiss; for these {i. e. minor premisses) are 
of intuition, the origin of the motive ; for universals are made 
AlaOijijig, Up of particulars. Of these, therefore, it is neces- 
sary to have perception ; and perception is intu- 

5. ition. Therefore these habits have been thought 
to be natural ; and although no man is naturally 
wise ((To0oc), he is thought to have candour, intelli- 
gence, and intuition, naturally. A sign of this is, 
that we think that these qualities naturally accom- 
pany certain ages ; and that one particular age 
possesses perception and candour, as though nature 
were the cause of it.^ 

6. Therefore intuition is at once the beginning and 
the end; for demonstrations have extremes both 

Attention for their origin and their subjects. 55 So that we 
toautho- ought to pay attention to the imdemonstrated 
"^y* sayings and opinions of persons who are experi- 

enced, older than we are, and prudent, no less than 
to their demonstrations ; for because they have ob- 
tained from their experience an acuteness of moral 
vision, they see correctly. What, therefore, is the 
nature of wisdom and of prudence, what the ob- 
jects of both, and the fact that each is the virtue 
of a different part of the soul, has been stated. 

^ The meaning of this passage is as follows : It has been 
held that a disposition to form a candid judgment of men and 
things, an ability to comprehend and grasp the suggestions of 
other minds, independently of the power of reasoning out con- 
elusions for ourselves ; and, lastly, a moral sense of right and 
wrong, by which we have a perception of the principles of 
moral action, are natural gifts ; as a sign or evidence of 
this, it has been observed that these faculties are more espe- 
cially developed at particular periods of life, in the same 
way that physical properties are. But <ro<pia, i.e. scientific 
knowledge, which is based upon demonstration, and is in fact 
a demonstrative habit, must for this reason be the result of an 
active exercise of the perceptive and reasoning powers, and 
therefore cannot be natural, but must be acquired. 

8^' That is, demonstrations have for their origin and foun- 
dation first principles, of which intuition takes cognizance, and 
the object of demonstration is to arrive at conclusions which 
come under the province of intuition likewise. 


my of tri. 

flftrf Prudenc 

the ufilitr 


The qucation roiglit be a-skod, how are these habits I. 
\isefiil 1 foe wiadom doea not contemplate any of "P^ 
the means by which a man will become happy ; for {t'*''? 
it relates to no production. PnulyncL', indeed, has of ado 
this property ; yet with a view to wliat is there andffo^i'o, 
any need of it, if it is the knowledge of the things Knit- 
ivhich are just, and honourable, and advantageoua 
to mail, and these are what the good man practises t 
Bat we are not at all the more apt to practise them z, 
because we know them, that is, if the virtues are 
habits ; jnst as we are not more apt to be healthy 
from Uie knowledge of wholesome things, nor of 
things likely to cau?e a good habit of body (that 
is, the things which are so called not because tbey 
cause the habit, but because they result from it) ;'"'" 
for we are not at all more apt to put in practice 
the arts of medicine or gymnastics, merely because 
we know them. 

But it may be said, if we must not call a man S. 
prudent on these grounds, but only for becoming Second, 
virtuous, it would not be at all useftil to those who 
are already good ; again, it would not be useful to 
those who do not possess prudence ; for it will make 
no difference to them whether they possess it them- 
aelves, or obey others who possess it ; for it would 
be quite sufficient for us, just as in the case of 

" Thifl lenteac 


ch I hsve 

nclosed in a parenthesis » 

bitended to eipUin the 

■ease in wh 

ch Aristotle usea the tennH 

byiHvA ond liter 



in tho Topio., I. iiiii. lU. 

Illustrates this :— 



iy^iviv \iyira 


TO Ci 
TO It 

^«Xa« (2.) 
<r„^flVT,«i>. (3.) 

of health are the reaolMuC 

the healihy habit 

r c 

ndition. the 

senae in which the t«tm it 

' «aed here is the third. — See Chase's 

ir; ARISTOTLE'S [bookti. 

healtli j for when we wish to be well, we do not 
t>?Td. begin to learn the art of medicine. But besides^ 
it would appear absurd, ii^ though it is inferior 
to wisdom, it is, nevertheless, to be superior to 
it j for that which produces, always rules and 
directs in each particular case. On these subject-a, 
therefore, we must speak, for hitherto we have onlj 
raised questions about them. 

4. First, then, let us assert, that wisdom and pru- 
Answers to dence must be eligible for their own sakes, since 
ttrae o jec- ^^^^ ^^^ ^j^^ virtues, one of each part of tho 

soul, even if neither of them produces any effect. 
Secondly, they do really produce an effect, although 
not in the same way as medicine produces health, 
but as health is the efficient cause of healthiness, 
so is wisdom the efficient cause of happiness ; for 
being part of virtue in the most comprehensive sense 
of the term, it causes, by being possessed, and by 

5. energizing, a man to be happy. Again, its work 
will be accomplished by prudence and moral virtue ; 
for virtue makes the end and aim correct, and pru- 

The use- dence the means. But of the fourth part of the 
fulness of qq^^ ^^^^ ^ ^j^g nutritive, there is no such virtue ; 
fpovriaiQ. £^^ ^^^ performance or non-performance of moral 
action is not in any case in its power. 

To answer the objection, that we are not at all 
more likely to practise honour and justice on 
accoimt of prudence, we must begin a little further 
"' back, making this our commencement. Just as we 
say that some who do just actions, are not yet 
just ; those, for instance, who do what is enjoined 
by the laws involuntarily, or ignorantly, or foi* 
some other cause, and not for its own sake, though 
nevertheless they do what they ought and what a 
good man ought to do ; in the same manner, it 
seems, that a man must do all these things, being 
at the same time of a certain disposition, in order 
*o be good j I mean, for inbtance, from deliberate 
preference, and for the sake of the acts themselves 
7. Virtue, therefore, makes the deliberate preference 
ci>rrect j but it is not the part of virtue, but a/ 




. XII,] ETHICS. !:.1 

Bume other Eiculty, to ^ect ariglit those things 
which must be done with a, wew to that primaple. 
Bat 'we must stop and tpeak on theae subjects with 
more deamesa. 

Now, there is a certiun faculty which is called S. 
clevemesa ; ^ the nature of which ia to be able to ^"™''ic 
do, and to attaan, those things which conduce to 
the aim proposed. If, therefore, the aim be good, 
the cleverness is praiseworthy ; but if it be bad, it 
becoioos craft :JJ therefore we call prudent men. elever, 
and not craily. Now prudence ia not the Kune g, 
as this foculty, nor is it without this faculty. But li is not 
the habit is produced upon this eye, as it were, '•'^"'i™! 
of the sou!, not without virtue, as we have already Jnommr 
stated, and as is manifest. For the syllogisms of nithoagli' 

" Clevorneaa (cifivgrijt) ia, ncoording to Aristotle, & naturnl j. 
focuUy, or aptaess, nhidi, ia iisclf, ia neither good nor bad ; 
it may be either used or abuaed.—if abusod, it ia craft (irai'- 
cvpyia). It is capable of being cultivated and improved, 
and when perfected it becomeg ^pilvijo-ic. Ai clevemesa thus 
perfected by the addition of moral virtue becompa prudence, 
so natural virtue, with Aristotle, who beUeTes that man is 
endowed, bEComea perfect virtue by the addition of prudence. 
Not that Aristotle believed that man was capable of sctnaliy 
attaining such a height of perfection : he evidently belieiej 
that it was beyond human power. It is the theoretical ilandaid 
which he propoees to the Ethical student for him to um at, 
aad to Bpprauih as near aa lis natural powers will permit him. 
Tbua, Revelation, whilst it leaches us the corruption of human 
nature, bids us be perfect even as our Father vthich ia in 

Aristotle's theory of the eiiatence of natural virtue bears • 
close teaeinblance to Bishop Butler's idea of the coDStitutiou 
□f human nature aa laid down in his lirst three sermons and 
the prefoce to them : — " Our nature ia adapted lo (irtue as 
much as the nature of a watch is adapted to measure time- 
Nolhing can poaaibly be more contrary to nature tbim vice. 
PoTcrty and disgrace, tortures and death, are not so contrary 
Id it. Every man ia naturaJI; a law to himaelf, and may find 
within himadf the rule of right, and obliEiliona to follow it." 

1 The original word here tranalaled eraft ia navavpfia. As 
itiviT^l. which signilieB clevemeta, generally ia, when directed 
to a good end, subject: to the restrictions of sound and aprigbt 
moral priiicipies ; ao when these are removed it degeneratet 
into jravoupyla, which aignifics eqasl nhility. but in additiou. 
■□ unscrupulous readinesa to do ecerythiiu whatever. Thik 
is implied in its etymology. 

174 ARISTOTLE'S [book vil 

laoral conduct Lave as their principle, i, e. their major 
premiss, since such and such a thing is the end 
and the chief good, I e. anything. For let it be fi>r 
the sake of argument, anything ; but this is not 
visible except to the good man ; for depravity dis- 
torts the moral vision, and causes it to be deceived 
on the subject of moral principles. So that it is 
clearly impossible for a person who is not good to 
be prudent. 

Of Virtue proper. 

1. We must again investigate the subject of virtue. For 
^ ^^' tn '^^^^'^® admits of relation of the same kind as that 
^itvtrnc '''^Lich prudence bears to cleverness ; that is, the 
#0 is natural two kinds of virtue are not identically the same, but 
virtue to similar ; such is the relation which exists between 
^rtue natural virtue and virtue proper. For all men 
proper. think that each of the points of moral character 

exists in us in some manner natiuully ; for we possess 
justice, temperance, valour, and the other virtues, 

2. immediately from our birth. But yet we are in 
search of something different, namely, to be pro- 
perly virtuous, and that these virtues should exist 

Difference in us in a different manner ; for natural habits 
between exist in children and brutes, but without intellect 
''^f^"*^ , they are evidently hurtfuL Yet so much as this is 
;S: ""-^ evident to the senses, that as a strong body which 
proper. moves without sight meets with great falls, from 
the want of sight, so it is in the present instance ; 
but if it gets the addition of intellect, it acts much 
better. Now the case of the habit is similar, and 
under similar circumstances will be properly virtue. 
So that, as in the case of the &culty which forms 
opinions, there are two forms, cleverness and pru- 
dence; so in the moral there are likewise two, 
natural virtue and virtue proper; and of these^ 
virtue proper is not produced without prudence. 


:■ iv . 


Tliorcfore it has been s<ud that all tlie virtues 3, 

prudences. And Soci-atea, in one part was riglit 

in hia inquiry, bnt in the other wrong. For in 

that he thought that all the virtues are f rudeaces, 

ho i«tis wrong ; but in that he said that tliey ara 

il ■without prudence, he was right. And this ia 
A Gi^ ; for now all men, when they define vii-tue, 
~ id aIsei that it is a habit, according to right rc-afon, 
[ating also to what things it Las rcfereuoe ; now 
that is light reason which is accoiviing to prudcnca. 
All men, therefore, seem in some way to testify *■ 
that such a habit aa is accoi-ding to pmdeacc, is 
virtue. But it ia necesgiuy to make a slight change ; Virtncnrt 
lor virtue ia not only the habit according to, but in ^''jy "'" 
injunction with, right ruaaon ; and pradeaca is the °^„'' ^y. 
right reason on these subjectB, Socrates, ^,r'' fip0oC 
I, thought that the virtues were "reoaana," Xdyoi;. 
M. e. reasoning processes ; for he thought them all Sncrates' 

iences : but we think them joined with reason. "p""""- 

it ia clear, therefbre, from what has been said, 5. 
&at it is impossible to bo properly virtuoua with- Pmdcncfi 
out prudence, or prudent without moral virtue. ""^ "oral 
Moreover, the argument by whieh it might be separable, 
urged that the virtues are separate from each This ia trus 
othei", may in this way bo reiuted, for (they say) of '''■''": 
the same man is not in the highest degree naturally P^j^'^f na-' 
adapted for all ; so that he will have gob one al- "urai^Jtufc 
J»!eady, and another not yet. Now this is possible in 
the case of the natural virtues ; but in the case of 
those fi*om the possession of which a man is called 
absolutely good, it is impossible ; for with prudence, 
which ia onCj they will atl exist together.^ It it. (u 

of tiifl practical nnture of 0pDiij|ffic, and of ilb 
iDg inteparable from moral virtue, bo that if a man posses^a 
rteet prudence, it dcTelops itself in perfect obedience to thn 
loraJ lav ; and tbe perfection of tbe one implies the perfectioa 
~ the other also, ia analogoua to tbe relation which ciiati be- 
een faith and obedieoce in Cbriatiaa ethits. A living (ailii 
necessarily bringi forth good workii, and bv them a living hilb 
■« u evidently known aa it tree is di^jcemed b; its fruits. He, 
tfaerefore, whopoMetses trae failh possesses all virtue j and in 
I to the imperfecdon of obedieaoe is the impeifsctioa 

176 ARISTOTLE'S El UlLS. [^"ok %t 

«lear, too, even if prudence were not practical, there 
would be need of it, because it is the virtue of one 
part of the soul, and because the deliberate pre- 
ference cannot be correct without prudence, nor 
without virtue ; for the one causes us to choose the 
end, and the other to put in practice the means ; 
yet it has not power over wisdom, nor over the 
superior parts of the soul j just as medicine is not 
better than health ; for it does not make use of it^ 
but sees how it may be produced. It gives direc- 
tions, therefore, for its sake, but not to it. Besides, 
it would be the same kind of thing as if one should 
say, that the political science has power over the 
gocls, because it gives directions respecting all tliiD g^ 
in the stato. 




Hf a kind of Heroic Virtue^ and of Continence, and in like 

manner of their contraries* 

After what has been already said, we must make 1- 
another beginning,* and state, that there are three J^*® . 

forms of things to be avoided in morals — vice, iii-'cvSSd. 

continence, brutality. The contraries of two oi vice, in- 
these are self-evident : for we call one virtue, the contincDct. 
other continence : but, as an opposite to brutality, Brutality, 
it would be most suitable to name the virtue which opp^gites • 
is above himian nature, a sort of heroic and divine virtue, 
virtue, such as Homer has made Priam attribute t) Continenoe 
Hector, because of his exceeding goodness — Heroic 

— — "Nor did be seem 
The son of mortal man, bat of a god.'' ^ 

' It is not yery easy to see at first tbe connection between 
the four remaining books and tbe preceding six. Tbe follow- 
ing is tbe explanation given by Muretus. In tbe commence- 
ment of tbe sixtb book. Aristotle bastaugbt tbat two conditions 
are requisite to tbe perfection of moral virtue : first, tbat tbe 
moral sense (6 vovq 6 7rpaicrtic<$c) sbould judge correctly; 
next, tbat tbe appetites and passions sbould be obedient to its 
decisions. But diougb tbe moral judgment sbould be correct, 
tbe will is generally in opposition to it. If in tbis conflict ^ . 

reason is victorious, and compels tbe will, tbougb reluctant, to 
obey, tbis moral state is continence ; if, on tbe contrary, tbe 
will overcomes tbe reason, tbe result is incontinence. It was 
essential to a practical treatise to treat of tbis imperfect or in- 
choate virtue, as well as to discuss tbe tbeory of moral perfec- 
tion. Tbe case is somewbat analogous to tbat of pbysical 
science, in wbicb we first lay down tbeoretically tbe natural 
laws witbout reference to tbe existence of any impedimenta^ 
and then modify our tbeory by calculating and allowing fix 
tbe effects of perturbations and resistances. 

° II. zxiT. 258. 


178 AR1ST0TLE*S [book nu 

1. So tliat ii^ as is commonly said, men bjeoome goda 
because of excess of virtue, the habit, which is op- 
posed to brutality, would evidently be something of 
that kind : for just as there is no vice or virtue in 
a brute, so also there is not in a god :^ but in the 
one case there is something more precioos than 
virtue; and in the other something different in 
kind from vice. 

3. But since the existence of a godlike man is a 
rare thing (as the Lacedaemonians, when they admire 
any one exceedingly, are accustomed to say, He is 

Brutality a godlike man), so the brutal character is rare 
rare, chiefly jyj^ongst men, and is mostly foimd amongst barbar 
barbarians. 3ians.^<^ But some cases arise trom disease and bodily- 
mutilations : and those who go beyond the rest of 
mankind in vice we call by this bad name. Of 
such a disposition as this we must make mention 
subsequently -A of vice we have spoken before. 

4, We must, however, treat of incontinence, and 
Tlie plan softness, and luxury, and of continence and patience : 

Jiment" ^^^ ^® ^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^™ ^^ congeptions of each of 
them as though they were the same habits with virtue 
and vice, nor as though they were belonging to a 
different genus. But, as in other cases, we must first 
state the phenomena ; and, after raising difficulties, 
then exhibit if we can aU the opinions that have 
been entertained on the subject of these passions • 
or if not all, the greatest number^ and the moat 
important ; for if the difficulties are solved, and the 
most approved opinions left, the subject will have 
been explained siifficiently. 
&• It is a common opinion, then, first, that con- 
. *^ tinence and patience belong to the number of things 

^^ good and praiseworthy ; but incontinence and effe- 

minacy to that of things bad and reprehensible. 
That the continent man is identical with him who 

e In the tenth book, c. -viiL, it will be seen that Aristotle 
proves that the gods cannot possess any virtaons energies, 
except that of contemplation. 

ec See the description of the cannibalism of the inhabitants 
of Toptus and Tentyra, Jqy. Sat. xv. 

^ See the fifth and sixth chapters of this book. 




BjjWdea by liie ifetenniniition ; and the incontmoit, 
PSritt him wlio departs from liis detcrminatioii. That 
the incontinent man, knowing that things are bad, 
does them at the inst.gation of passion ; hut the 
conlanHnt man, knowing that the desires are }y»d, 
refuses to follow them in obedience to reaBou. Th^t 
tfie temperate man is continent and patient : bnt 
some think that every one who is both continent 
and patient ia temperate ; others do not. Some 
call the intemperate man incontinent, and the 
incontinent intempei-ate, indisoriminately ; others 
assert that they are diiTerent. As to the prudent 
man, eometimcs it is said that it is impossible for 
Tiim to be incontinent ; at other times, that some 
men both prudent and clever are incontinent, 
lastly, men are said to be incontinent of anger, 
and honour, and gain. These are the statements 
. generally made. 

CHAP. n. 
I Ctrlaia Queslioiu reapect'ng Temperance and Talemperaace. 

<jnEsrioir might arise, how any one forming a 1. 
ight conception ia incontinent. Some say, that if 3"* f"""*. 
has a scientific knowledge, it is impossible : for '^""™''^''^'' 
3 stnmge, aa Socrates thonght,' if araence exists 
1 the man, that anything else should have the 
} mastery, and drag Hm about like a slave. So- The opi - 
crates, indeed, resisted the argument altogether, aa nion of 
if incontinence did not exist : for that no one form- Socrnm, 
ing a right conception acted contraiy to what ia 

' Arislolle (Mngnm Mcfts!,) Eaje, tliat in the opinion of 
Sncratea no one wpuld choose avil, knowing that it wb» ctU ! 
but the incontinent mnn doM so, bring influenced faj pBEsioQi 
therefore he thought there wBS no such thing as incontinBDGe. 
This doctrine of Socrates doubtleSB originnted, firstly, Erom his 
I belief that ninn'B natural bias and incluiBtion rnia towards 
k;rirtae, and that therefore it was absurd ■« euppose he nould 
KTSue lice except involuntarily or ignnrantly. Secondly. 
him his doctrine that the Icnowledge of \\\e principles and ~ 
I^WB of morality was is cnpable of certniiitr nud aioontOT lo 
le of HKithemuticsl science. 

180 AHISTOILE'S [book v^ii 

best, but only through ignorance. Now, this ac- 
count is at variance with the phenomena ; and we 
must inquire concerning this passion, if it proceeds 
from ignorance, what manner of ignorance it is ; 
for that the incontinent man, before he is actually 
imder the influence of passion, thinks tliat he ought 

2. not to yield, is evident. There are some who con- 
cede one point, but not the rest ; for that nothing 
is superior to science they allow : but that no one 
acts contrary to what they think best they do not 
allow : and for this reason they say, that the incon- 
tinent man is overcome by pleasures, not having 
science, but opinion. But stiU, if it is opinion, and 
not science, nor a strong conception, which opposes, 
but a weak one, as in persons who are doubting^ the 
not persisting in this in opposition to strong de- 
sires is pardonable : but vice is not pardonable, noi 
anything else which is reprehensible. 

3. Perhaps, then, it may be said that it is pru- 
5th point, dence which opposes, for this is the strongest. But 

this is absurd ; for then the same man will at once 
be prudent and incontinent : but not a single indi- 
vidual would assert that it is the character of the 
prudent man willingly to do the most vicious things. 
Besides this, it has been shown before that the pru- 
dent man is a practical man ; for he has to do with 
the practical extremes, and possesses all the other 

4. Again, if the continent character consists in hav- 
4th point, ing strong and bad desires, the temperate man will 

not be continent, nor the continent temperate ; for 
excess does not belong to the temperate man, nor 
the possession of bad desires. But, nevertheless, 
the continent man must have bad desires ; for if 
the desires are good, the habit, which forbids him 
to follow them, is bad : so that continence would 
not be in all cases good ; and if they are weak and 
not bad, there is nothing grand in overcoming 
them ; and if they are both bad and weak, there is 
nothing great in doing sO. 
f* Atffdn, if continence makes a man inclined tci 

CHAJ*. II.] EThlCS. 181 

adhere to every opinion, it is bad ; as, fcr instance, 2nd point 
if it makes him inclined to adhere to a &Ise one : 
and if incontinence makes him depart from every 
opinion, some species of incontinence will be good ; 
as, for instance, the case of Neoptolemns in the 
Philoctetes of Sophocles ; for he is praiseworthy 
for not adhering to what "Ulysses persuaded him 
to do, because he felt pain in telling a lie. Again, 6 
the sophistical argument, called " ^ev^o/jLevog,^ causes 
a difficulty : ^ for because they wish to prove para- 
doxes, in order that they may appear clever when 
they ^cceed, the syUo^m, whidi is framed, be- 
comes a difficulty : for the intellect is as it were 
in bonds, inasmuch it does not wish to stop, because 
it is not satisfied with the conclusion ; but it can- 
not advance, because it cannot solve the argument. 
And from one mode of reasoning it comes to pass 7. 
that folly, together with incontinence, becomes vir- 
tue ; for it acts contrary to its conceptions through 
incontinence ; but the conception which it found 
was, that good was evil, and that it ought not to 
be done : so that it wiU practise what is good, and 
not what is evil 

Again, he who practises and pursues what is 8. 
pleasant from being persuaded that it is light, and On this 
after dehberate choice, would appear to be better swppositioi 
than the man who does so not from dehberation, pe^teT' 
but from incontinence ; for he is more easily cured, more cura 
because he may be persuaded to change ; whereas ble than 
to the incontinent man the proverbial expression *^® incon- 
is applicable, *'''^''*- 

** When water chukes, what is one to drink after ?" » 

' This fallacy is denominated by Cicero ** Mentiens." The 
author of it is said to have been Eubulides, the Milesian. The 
following is the form of it: **When I lie, and say that I lie, 
do I lie or do I speak the truth ? Thus, e. g. , Epimenides, the 
Cretan, said that all his countrymen were liars ; did he then 
speak the truth ? If you say he did, it may be answered, that 
ho told a lie, inasmuch as he himself was a Cretan ; if you say 
he did not, it may be answered, that he spoke the truth, for 
the same reason." 

t This proverb is applicable to the argument in the follow* 

192 ARISTOTLE'S [book vji. 

For if lie had been per^yiiaJed to do what he does 
he might have been re-persuaded, and thus haV«) 
desisted ; but now, although persuaded, nevertheless 
he acts contrary to that conviction. 
9. Again, if there are incontinence and continence 
th point. Qjj every object-matter, who is he who is simply 
called incontinent? for no one is guilty of every 
species of incontinence ; but there are some whom 
we call incontinent simjily. The difficulties, then, 
are somewhat of this nature; and of them we 
must remove some, and leave others ; for the solu- 
tion of the difficulty is the discovery of the truth. 

CHAP. in. 

How ii is possible for one who has Knowledge to be 


1. First, then, we must consider whether men are 
Three incontinent, having knowledge or not, and in what 
Dro*o°i^ way having knowledge., 'NextjjH^^^ what sort of 

objects we must say that the continent and incon- 
tinent have to do ; I mean, whether it is every 
pleasure and pain, or some particular ones. Thirdly, 
whethei the continent and patient are the same 
or difVront. And in like manner we must con- 
sider all other subjects yhich are akin to this 

2. The beginning of the discussion is, whether the 

The object- continent and incontinent differ in the object, or 

matter and ^ ^^le manner : I mean, whether the incontinent 
manner .. .. . ^ j» i* i i* 

considered. '^^^^'^ ^ mcontment merely from being employed in 

this particular thing ; or whether it is not that, 
but in the manner; or whether it is not that, 

3. but the result of both. Next, whether inconti- 

mg way. Water is the most natural remedy for choking ; but 
if water itself chokes, what further remedy can be applied. So 
reason is the best remedy for vice ; but the incontinent man 
acts in defiance of reason, — he has the remedy, but it dots not 
profit him, what more then can be done r 




not trhethel 



nence and continence nfe on every object-mattcp 
or not : for lie that is called ainiply incontinent, 19 
not so in everything, but in the same things with 
which the intemperate is concerned ; nor is he bo 
from having reference to tiese things ahsolntelj 
(for then it vould be the same &a intemperance), 
but from having reference to them in a pnrticular 
maimer : for the intemjjorate is led on by deliberate 
choice, thinking that he ought always to pursue 
pr^ent pleasure ; the incotitineut does not thin It 
so, but nevertheleBS puraups it. 

Now as to the queation whether it be a true i- 
opinion, and not science, in opposition to which 
men are incontinent, niake^ no differe 
the argument : for some who hold opinions, do man 
not feel aiiy doubt, but think that they know for iropt 
certain. If then those, who hold opinions, be- ^"l*"' 
cause their convictions aie weak, wOl act contrary i^'^i'J-" 
to their conception, more thaii those who have 
knowledge, then knowledge will in nowise differ 
from opinion : for some are convinced of what they 
thjnV , no less than others are of what they know : 
Heraclitua is an instance of tliis.'' But since we 5, 
epeak of knowing in two ways (for he that pos- How the 
Besses, but does not use hia knowledge, as well as meontinp.Ti 
he that uses it, is said to have knowledge), there ''^ ™" 
will be a difference between the having it, but not Jxiffri'iuij. 
uaing it, so as to see what we ought not to do, and First way. 
the having it and uaing it. 

Again, since there ai-o two kinds of propositions, fi, 
universal and particular, there is nothing to hinder Second 
one who possesses both from acting contrary to **!■ 
knowledge, using indeed the universal, but not the 
panicukr ; for particulars are the subjects of moral 
actioiL There are also two different np ^plications of 7. 
the universal — one to the person and one to the 

* Hrraclitiu. nltboagli he said that si] his conclusions rested 
on opinian, not on knowledge, itill dcrended [hem as perti- 
iincloDslf I and believed theii truth as GrmlT as other philoao- 
]iliers, vho asserted that Ibeira were fuunded on knowledfe. — 

184 ARISTOTLE'S Ibouk vii 


thing ;^ aa, for instance, a person knows that di^ 
food is good for every man, and that this is a maii 
or that such and such a thing is dry; but as to 
whether this is such and such a thing, either he 
does not possess the knowledge or does not use it 
In these two cases the difference will bi5 inconceivably 
great, so much so, that in one case knowledge involves 
no absurdity, but in the other a very great one. 

8. A.gain, it is possible to possess knowledge in a 
iLIid way. different manner from those above mentioned ; for 
we see the habit differing in the possessing but not 
using knowledgt*, so that in a manner he has it and 
has it not ; such as the person who is asleep, or mad, 
or drunk. Now, those who are imder the influence 
of passion are affected in the same way ; for anger, 
and sensual desires, and so forth, evidently alter 
the bodily state, and in some they even cause 
madness. It is evident, therefore, that we must 
say, that the incontinent are in a similar condition 

^, to these. But the fact of their uttering sentiments 
wliich must have proceeded from knowledge is no 
proof to the contrary, for those who are under the 
influence of these passions recite demonstrations and 
verses of Empedocle^jJ and those who have learnt 

• The great difficulty which commentators have found in 
explaining this confessedly obscure pnssage appears to me to 
arise from this ; they have not observed that the expressions 
t6 Ka06\ov iip* iavrovy and to KaOoXov Irri tov TrpdyfiaroQ 
do not describe two different kinds of universals, but the ui.. 
▼ersal as related to two different kinds of particulars ; e. ^., to 
the major premiss, ** All dry meats are good for man," may 
be attached two different kinds of minors ; either, ** This is a 
man,** or *' Such and such a thing is dry." The relation of 
the major to the minor in the first case is to KaOoXov t^' 
iavrov, and it would appear absurd to conceive that any one 
could go wrong. In the second case the relation is to icaOoXoif 
iwi TOV irpay/uaroCf and here there is no absurdity. We 
cannot help knowing that (kit is a wan^ — we may not know 
that 9Hck tmd mck a tking w dry. 

As rational beings, we all act on a svllogistic process. It is 
generally found that even in the case of lunatics the 
is correct, though the premisses are false, — the premisses bcii.g 
influenced by the delusions under which they labour. 

• How often do we find that the giving utterance t(» g!>04l 

CHAP. III.] fi'IHICS 180 

for the first time string sentences together, but do 
not yet understand tliem, for they must grow with 
their growth, and this requires time ; so that wo 
must suppose the incontinent utter these sentimentn 
in the same maimer in which actors do. 

Again, one might consider the cause physically^ 10. 
in the following manner : — There is one opinion FourthwEj* 
upon imiversals, and another upon those particulars 
which are immediately imder the dominion of sensa- 
tion ; and when one opinion is formed out of the 
two, the soul must necessarily assert the conclusion, 
and if it is a practical matter^ must immediately act 
upon it : for instance, if it is right to taste every- 
thing sweet, and this is sweet, as being an individual 
belonging to this class, then he who has the power 
and is not prevented, when he puts these two to- 
gether, must necessarily act. When, therefore, one il, 
universal opinion exists in us, which forbids us to 
taste j and another that everything sweet is pleasant, 
and this particular thing is sweet; and the last 
imiversal energizes, and desire happens to be pre- 
sent ; the first universal tells us to avoid this par- 
ticular thing, but desire leads us to pursue it ; for 
it is able to act as a motive to each of the parts of 
man's nature. So that it comes to pass that he in 12. 
a manner acts incontinently from reason and from Why brvi^i 
opinion : not that the latter is opposed to the ^^J^'^J*. ^ 
former naturally, but accidentally ; for it is the de- contineniU' 
sire, and not the opinion, which is opposed to right 
reason. So that for this reason brutes are not in- 
moral sentiments is quite consistent with hypocrisy ; and that 
the use of a particular system of religious phraseology is no 
sure indication of a truly Christian temper and character. In 
such cases as these the characters of Charles Surface and 
Mawworm furnish us with a valuable moral lesson. 

^ The subject is here said to be treated physically, because 
the argument is founded upon the nature of the soul, its parts, 
functions, &c. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say 
" physiologically.** 

* The word in the original (Tronyrtcd) is here translated 
** practical matter,** because it is used as opposed to ^nitpri' 
riKOL ; just as in English we oppose the words practictl aiid 


contineni, because they have no uiuversal concep- 
tions, but onl; tsa inatiniot of particulars and 

3. Bat as to hovr the ignorance is put an end tOr 
<^- and the incontinent man again becomes poB« 

of knowledge, the account to be given b tlie i 
, as that of a man dnink or asleep, and ia oot pecu- 
liar to this passion, j and this account we must hear 
from physiologists. But since the last [i. e. tha 
particul^] proposition is an opinion formed by the 
perceptive faculties, and influences the actions, he, 
who is under the influence of passion, either does 
not possess tins, or possesses it not as though be bad 
knowledge, but merely as though he repeated, like 
a drunken man, the vorsea of Empedoclea. And 
this is the case, because the last proposition is atib 
universal, and does not appear to be of a sdieDti£a 
character in the same way that the universal does. 

4. And that which Socrates sought seems to result ; 
for the passion does not arise when tha^ which' 
ap])ear8 properly to be knowledge, is present ; new 
is this dragged about by the passion ; but it i% 
when that opinion is present which is the result (rf 
eensation. On the question, therefore, of actiii|; 
incontinently with knowledge, or without, and hrrw 
it is possible to do so with knowledge, let what has 
been said be considered aufliciont- 


WilA vihai earl oj auhjich he who is absoMely Ucoh, 

I. We must next consider, whether any one is abao* 
it. lutely incontinent, or whether all are so in particular 
cases ; and if the former is the case, with reference 
to what sort of things he is so. Now that the 
continent and jiatient, tliL' incontinent and efifenu- 
))4Ui, are so with respect to pleasures and paii^t^ 





is evideat. But aini^e Boiae o( tlioso things wliich j, 
produce pleasure are ueoessaiy, and others, thougli PlenFurei 
chosen, for their own sokes, yet adimt of excea^ "f *J" 
those which are corporeal arc necessary ; I mean [j^j.,f. 
those which relate to the gratification of the appetite, 
aud such corporeal pleasures as we have stated to be 
the object of intemperance and tempeiiince ; others Unnc^s- 
are not necessaiy, but chosen for their own siikea ; sary. 
I mean, for instance, victory, honour, wealth, and 
such like guod and pleasant things. JSov those, 3 
who are in excess in these, contrary to the right Inconli- 
reason which is in them, we do not call aimply incon- uence in 
tinent, but we add. incontinent of money, of gain, of , ''^ 
AOROur, or anger, but not simply incodtinent ; as if f^^^ ^^^_ 
they were diiferent, and called so only ironi ana- logy, 
logy ; just as to the generic term man we add the 
difference, "who was victor at the Olympic games;" 
for in this cose the comnion deKcription diifers a little 
from that wliich peculiarly belongs to 1dm."' And 
this is a ^gn ; incontinence is blamed, not only u 
an error, but also as a sort; of vice, either abso- 
lutely, or in some particular case : but of the other 
charactera no one is so blamed. But of those who 4. 
indulge in carnal pleasures, with respect to wliich Character 
wo call a man temixsrate and intemperat*, he, 
pursues the excesses of things pleasant, and avoids (^ 
the excesses of things painful, as hunger aud thirst, 
heat and cold, and all tilings which liave to do with 
touch and taste, not from deliberately preferring, 
but contrary to his deliberate preference and judg- 
ment, iii called incontinent ^mply, without the adtti- 
tion, that he is so in this particular thing; anger, 
tor exampla 

A sign of it is this : men are called effeminate 5. 
in these, but in none of the others : and for this "^ y^" 
reason we claas together the incontinent and intern- . 

„ of thai 

■ As we distingnisb an Oljmpio virti 
t]i« addilioD of this diflcrentinl property 
man i an we distinguisli simpls from piitjculiu iocontincnci 
by aiiJine to (he word ■■ inEOdtineat • [tie difference ■' 01 



IW ARISTOTLE'S [book vii. 

perate, and also tlie continert and temperate^ but 
not any of the others, because the former are in i. 
manner conversant with the same pleasures and 
pains. They are indeed concerned with the sanie, 
but not in the same manner ; for the temperate 
and intemperate deliberately prefer them, the others 
do not. 

6. Therefore we should call him who pursues ex- 
JD^rence cesses and avoids moderate pains, not from desire, 

themr"' ?^' ^,^^ ^> ^ »^g^* ^®^""^' °^^^^ intemperate tliaii 
he who does so from strong desire :° for what 

would the former have done, if he had been influ- 
enced in addition by youthful desire, and excessive 

7. pain at the want of things necessary ] But 'since 
some desires and pleasures belong to the class of 
those which are honourable and good (for of things 
pleasant, some are eligible by nature, some the con- 
trary, and others indifferent, as, for instance, accord- 
ing to our former division, the pltasiu-es connected 
with money, and gain, and victory, and honour), 
in all such pleasures, and in those which are indif- 
ferent, we are not blamed for feeling, or desiring, 
or loving them, but for doing this somehow in 

8. excess. Therefore all who are overcome by, or 

Excess even purgug -^-hat is by nature honourable and good 
la pleasures ^ . ' . •^ t.ij ^ i' 

na^i^ly contrary to reason, are blamed; as for example, 

good is those who are very anxious, and more so than they 

blamed. ought to be, for honour, or for their children an^ 

parents (for these are goods, and those, who ax 

anxious about them, are praised) ; but, nevertheless, 

there may be excess even in the case of these, if 

any one, like Niobe, were to fight against the gods, 

orwere to act like Satyrus surnamed Philopater, with 

respect to his duty to his father; for he was thought 

to be excessively foolish. 

9^ There is therefore no depravity in those cases 

It is not for the reason given, that each belongs to the class 

actually of things which are by nature chosen for their own 


" The yielding to slight temptations shows greater depravity 
than the giving way to strong ones. A similar maxim is laiv 
down in the llhet. I. xiv., with respect to acts of injustice. 

CflAP. v.l HTHICS. 189 

sakes ; but still the excesses are bad aud to r.»e 
avoided. So also there is no incontinence ; for in- 
continence is not only to be avoided, but it belongs 
also to the class of things blameable. But from the 
similarity of the alfection, we use the term incon- 
tinence, with the addition of the idea of relation : 
just as we call a man a bad physician and a bad 
actor, whom we would not absolutely call bad. As, 
therefore, in these instances we would not call them 
so absolutely^ because each is not really a vice, but 
we call them so from analogy ; so in the other case Object- 
it is clear that we must suppose that only to be in- matter of 
continence and continence, which has the same continence 

4*, ,, •,v . J • J. Mid incon- 

object-matter with temperance and mtemperance. tmence 
In the case of anger, we use the term analogically ; the same ai 
and therefore we call a man incontinent, adding " of that of tem- 
anger," just as we add " of honour,'* or " of gain." perance 



Of Brutality, and the forms of it. 

But dnoe some things are pleasant by nature (and 1. 
of these, some are absolutely so, others relatively Division 
to different kinds of animals and men), others are *' 
pleasant not from nature, but some owing to bodily 
injuries, others from custom, and others from na- 
tural depravity, in each of these we may observe 
corresponding habits.^ I mean by brutal habits, 2. 

for instance, the case of that woman,® who, they say, Examplci 

of •&i}p(6r If c 



^vdti ov 6v<rii 

I I 

, ' I , I, . I 

uttXCjc Kard, yevrj ^id irripCxreiQ Si iOti did }Jlo\9^q^ 


* See Hor. de Arte Poet. v. 340. 

** Neu pransse Lamise yvmm pueram extmhat alto *' 


190 ARISTOTLh'S Lbook vji. 

ripped up women with child, raid devoured the 
childrcu ; or the practices, in which it is said that 
some savages about Pontus delight, such as raw 
meat, or iSonan flesh, or in giVing their chUdren 
to each other for a feast j or what is said of Phalaris. 
3. These are brutal habits. Others originate in some 
people from disease and madness; such was the 
case of him who sacrificed and ate his mother, and 
of him who ate his feUow-slave's Hver. Others 
arise from disease and custom ; as the plucking of 
hair and biting of nails, and fuither the eating coals 
and earth ; to which may be added unnatural pas- 
sion ; for these things oiHguia'e sometimes from 
nature, sometimes from custom ^ as in the case of 
those who have been corrupted from childhood. 
•1. Those in whom nature is the cause, no one would 
When na- c^u incontinent ; as no one would find fault with 
ture IS the ^^jj^gj^ fQj. ^j^g peculiarities of their sex ; and the 
case is the same with those who are through habit 
diseased. Now to have any of these habits i£ out of 

5. the limits of vice, as also is brutality. But when 
one has them, to conquer them or to be con- 
quered by them is not absolutely [continence or] 
incontinence, but only that which is called so from 
resemblance ; in the same manner as we must say 
of him who is affected in this way with respect to 
anger, that he is incontinent of anger, not simply 
iiicontinent : for as to every instance of excessive 
folly, and cowardice, and intemperance, and rage 
some of them are brutal, and some proceed fro^n 

Disease. disease ; for he, whose natural constitution is such, 
as to fear everything, even if a mouse squeaks, is 
cowardly with a brutish cowardice ; as he who was 

6. afraid of a cat was cowardly from disease.? And of 
fools, those who are irrational by nature, and Kve 
only by sensual instincts, are brutish, like some 
tribes of distant barbarians ; but others are so from 
disease ; for instance, epilepsy, or insanity. 

7. But it is possible only to have some of these 

** Some that are mad, if they behold a cat." 

Shak. Merch. of Ven. 

oocamonally, and not to be ovi.-rcoiiic by them ; I 
mcftii, for instance, if PhalHris had reatrained him- 
wU, when he felt a. dcsiro to eat a child, or for 
imnatnral pleatiures. It is pos^ble also not only to 
hare, but to be overcome by them. Ah, therefore, 8. 
in the ease of deptarity, that ■which is human, k 
airaply called depravity : and the other kind ia called 
BO with the addition that it ia hnitiah ov cauBod 
by disease, but not simply so ; in the same manner 
it is clear that incontinence is sometimes brutish, 
and sometimes caused by disease ; but that is only 
called so eimply, which is allied to human intem- 
perance. Therefore that incontinence and conti- 9. 
nence are only concerned with the same things as Met»plio- 
intemperance and temperance, and that in other"'" "^j^ 
things there is another species of incontinence, called euntiiiance, 
60 metaphorically and not absolutely, is plain. 

Lsi na now consider the fact, that iocontiiienee of |" 

jer is less disgraceful than incontinence of demre. n"^or 
Tot anger seems to listen somewhat to reason, desire Ron 
but to listen imperfectly ; as hasty servant^ who ihanin- 
' before they have heard the whole message, run coniineniB 
»way, and then miaunderatand the order ; and dogs, " "^^'' 
before they have considered whether it is a fiiend, 
if they only hear a noise, bark : thus anger, from a 
natural warmth and quickness, having listened, hut 
not understood the order, rushes to vengeance. For 2- 
renson or imagination has declared, that the slight 
15 an insult ; and anger, as if it had drawn the in- 
ference that iL ought to quarrel with such a person, 
is therefore immediately exasperated. But desre, 
if reason or sense should only say that the thing is 

i92 ARISTOTLE'S [booi. vn 

3 pleasant, rushes to the enjoyment of it. So tKat 
anger in some sensS follows reason, but desire does 
not ; it is therefore jftiore disgraceful ; for he that 
is incontinent of anger, is, so to speak, overcome hj 
reason ; but the other is overcome by desire^ and 
not by reason. 

4. Again, it is more pai'donable to follow natural 

Anger more appetites, for it is more pardonable to follow such 

desires as are common to all, and so far forth as 

they are common. But anger and asperity are more 

^' natural than excessive and unnecessary desires. It 
is like the case of the man who defended himself 
for beating his father, because, f^aid he, my father 
beat his father, and he again boat his ; and he, 
also (pointing to his child) will beat me, when he 
becomes a man ; for it runs in our family. And he 
that was dragged by his son, bid him stop at the 
door, for that he himself had dragged his father so 

6. far. Again, those who are more insidious^ are 

Less in- more unjust. Now the passionate man is not in- 
vdious. .!• • T_ f 1 J • • 

sidious, nor is anger, but is open ; whereas desire is 

so, as they say of Venus, 

" Cyprian goddess, weaver of deceit." 
And Homer says of the Cestus, 

'' Allurement cheats the senses of the wise.*'' 

So that if this incontinence is more unjust, it is 
also more disgraceful than incontinence in anger, 
and is absolute incontinence, and in some sense vice. 
^' Again, no . one commits a rape under a feeling of 
iinpW^° l^ain ; but every one, who acts from anger, acta 
wanton imder a feeling of pain ; whereas he that commits 
Insolence, a rape, does it with pleasure. If, then, those thin o^ 
are more unjust with which it is most just to be 
angry, then incontinence in desire is more unjust ; 
8 for there is no wanton insolence in anger. Conse- 
quently, it is plain, that incontinence of desire ia 
more disgraceful than that of anger, and that con- 
tinence and incontinence are conversant with bodily 
desires and pleasures. But we must understand 

■ Horn 11. liv. 214 ; Pope's transl. line 243—252. 

eBAP.711.] 2TH1CS. 19S 

ihe dlETerent forms of these ; for, as has been said at 
the beginnJTig, some are human and natural^ both in 
kind and in degree ; others are brutal ; and others 
arise from bocSly injuries and disease ; but tem- 
perance and intemperance are only conversant with 
the first of these. For this reason we never call 
beasts temperate or intemperate, except metapho- 
rically, or if any kind of animals differ in some 
respect entirely from another kind in wantonness 
and mischief, and voracity ; for they have no deli- 
berate choice, nor reason ; but are out of their 
nature, like human beings who are out of their 

But brutality is a less evil than vice, though m^re 4, 
formidable ; for the best principle has not been Brutality, 
destroyed, as in the human being, but it has never Ji ^®" ?^ 
existed. It is just the same, therefore, as to com- ^ ^^^ 
pare the inanimate with the animate, in order to 
see which is worse ; for the vidousness of that which 
is without principle is always the less mischievous ; 
but intellect ia the principle. It is therefore almost 
the same as to compare injustice with an unjust 
man ; for it is possible that either may be the 
worse ; for a vicious man can do ten thousand times 
as much harm as a beast. 


On the difference between Continence and Patience, and 
between Incontinence and Effeminacy. 

With respect to the pleasures and pains, the 1. 
desires and aversions which arise from touch and T^^cse !*«• 
taste (with which intemperance and temperance °^'f ^"^^ 
have already been defined as being conversant), it 
Is possible to be affected in such a manner, as to 
give way to those which the generality overcome ; 
and it is possible to overcome those to which the 
generality give way. Whoever, then, is so affected 
as regards pleasure, is either incontihont or conti- 


in ARISTOTLE'S [boo'C th. 

nent ; and as I'egards psdn, either effeminate or 
patient. But the habits of the generality are be- 
tween the two, although they incline rather to 

2. the worse. Now since some pleasures are necessajy, 
Intempe- -^l^ie others are not so, or only up to a certain 

point, whilst their excesses and defects are not 
necessary ; the same holds good with desires and 
pains ; he who pursues those pleasures which are in 
excess, or pursues them to excess, or from delibe- 
rate preference, and for their own sakesj and not 
for the sake of any further result, is intemperate ; 
for this man must necessarily be disinclined to re- 
pentance, so that he is incurable ; for the impeni- 
tent is incurable. He that is in the defect, is the 
opposite j he that is in the mean, is temperate. 
The case is similar with him who shims bodily 
pains, not from being overcome, but from delibe- 
rate preference. 

3, Of those who act without deliberate preference, 
one is led by pleasure ; another by the motive of 
avoiding the pain which arises from desire ; so that 
they differ from each other. But every one would 
think a man worse, if he did anything disgraceful 
when he felt no desire, or only a slight one, than if 
he felt very strong desires; and if he struck 
another without being angry, than if he had been 
angry ; for what would he have done, had he been 
Tmder the influence of passion ? Therefore, the in- 

4 temperate is worse than the incontinent. Of those 

Worse than then that have been mentioned, one is rather a 

inconti- species of effeminacy, the other is incontinent. The 

nencc. continent is opposed to the incontinent, and the 

patient to the effeminate ; for patience consists in 

resisting, continence in having the mastery; but 

to resist and to have the mastery differ in the same 

Continence '^^Y ^ ^^* being defeated differs from gaining a 

better than victory. Therefore, also, continence is more eligi- 

patience. ble than patience. 

5. He who fails in resisting those things against 
Sffeminacy. -^jjich the generality strive and prevail, is effemi-' 
nate and self-indulgent (for self-indulgence is a ape 


cBir. vit.] ETHICS. IM 

dies of efiemiuacy}^ he who dragsi' liis robe after 
hJTU, that ho may not ba anuoyod with the ixun of 
carrying it ; and ■who, imitating an invalid, does not 
th'nlf himself a wi'etched creature, although he 
Tesemblca one who ia. The case ia the same with 6, 
continence and incontinence ; for it is not to be 
wondered at, if a man ia overcome by violent and 
excosaiye pleaBurea or pains ; but it is pardonable, 
if he atrugglea against them (like the Philoctetes 
of Theodectea, when he had been bitten by the 
viper, or the Cercyon of Careinus in the Alope ; 
and like those, who, though they endeavour to 
stifle their langhter, burst out, as happened to 
Xenophantus) ; but it is astonishing, if any one is 
overcome by and cannot re^st those which the 
generality are able to resist, and this not because of 
their natural constitution, or disease, as for exam- 
ple, eSeminacy is hereditary in the Scythian kings ; i 
and as the female sex differs Irom the male. 

He, too, who ia excessively fond of sport, ia 7. 
thought intemperate ; hut in reality he ia eflemi- 
nate ; for sport is a relaxation, if it is a cessation 
from toil ; and he who ia too greatly given to 
Bport, ia of the numher of those who are in the 
excess in this respect. Of incontinence, one species 8. 
is precipitancy, another is weakness ; for the weafe, Di?irion f 

* To allow the robe to drag along the ground was amongst 
the Greeks a aign of indolence and effeminacy. Amongst the 
Asiatics, trains were worn; henco Homer bbjb, II. yi, i42 
(Pope's trangl. 563) :— 

"And Troy'a prood damcs, whose garments sweep the ground." 
On the contrarj, the aipression well-girded [avvp liZunios) 
was synonymooa with an active man. "To gird the loins" 
ia a pbnue fomiliur to overy ono. 

' Theodectea was an orator and tragic poet, a pupil of In- 
aiate<!, and a friend of Ariitotlc. To him Aristotle addreiied 
his Rhetoric. There were two Carcini, one on Athenian, the 
other an Agrigentine. It is nncerlain to which this tragedy 
should ho attributed. Careinus is mentioned with praise, both 
in the Rhetoric and Poetic. Of Xenophantus nothing certain 
is known. The mention here made of the Scythiaji kings 
refer* to a passage in Herodotns (Book I. c. cv.). where he 
epeaks of the punishment inflicted ou that nation for apoiling 
■■■ ■ temple of Venus in Ascalon. 


196 ARISTOTLE'S [book ti.. 

nence into when they have deliberated, do not abide by their 
^^a^'^^qI^ determinatioiis, owing to passion ; but the precipi^ 
and a<rw- ^^^ from not having deliberated at all, are led by 
pas&ion. For some (just as people, who have 
tickled themselves beforehand, do not feel the 
tickling of others), being aware of it previously, 
and havmg foreseen it, and roused themselves and 
their reason beforehand, are not overcome by the 
9. passion, whether it be pleasant or painfuL And it 
is the quick and choleric who are most inclined 
to the precipitate incontinence ; for the former from 
haste, and the latter from intensity of feeling, do 
not wait for reason, because they are apt to be led 
by their &iicy. 

CHAP. vni. 

The djiff^erence between Incontinence and Inten^eranee, 

1. The intemperate, as has been said, is not inclined 
Whyincon-to repent; for he abides by his deliberate prefe- 
b'tt^^* rence j but the incontinent, in every case, is inclined 
bitempe- *^ repent. Therefore the fewst is not as we stated 
ranee. in the question which we raised above : but the 
former is incurable, and the latter curable ; for de- 
pravity resembles dropsy and consumption amongst 
diseases, and incontinence resembles epilepsy ; for 
the former is a permanent, the latter not a perma- 
nent vice. The genus of incontinence is altogether 
different from that of vice ; for vice is unperceived 
by the vicious ; but incontinence is not.' 

' Intemperanee is perfect vicei incontinence, imperfect. In 
the intemperate, therefore, the moral principle is destroyed, 
the Toioe of conscience silenced, the light which is within him 
is become darkness. He does not even feel that he is wrong ; 
he is like a man suffering from a chronic disease, which is so 
much the more dangerous and incurable because it is painless. 
Pain has ceased, mortification, so to speak, has begun. The 
incontinent man, on the other hand, feels the pangs of remorse , 
hears the disapproving voice of conscience, experiences nneaai- 
iiess, the " sorrow which worketh repentance ;" his disease is 
ficate, and may be cured. 

iBAP.viii] ETHICS. 197 

Of the characters themselves, the precipitate are 2. 
better than those who have reason, but do not abide 
by it ; for these last are overcome by a weaker 
passion, and are not without premeditation, as the 
others are : for the incontinent resembles those 
who are intoxicated quickly, and with a little wine, 
and with less than the majority. Consequently 
that incontinence is not vice, is evident : but per- Inconti- 
haps it is so to a certain extent : for the one ^^^^^ ^^ 
is contrary, the other according to deliberate pre- ^^} fgi' 
ference. Not but that they are similar in their ^ice. 
acts : as Demodocus said of the Milesians ; " the 
Milesians are not fools, but they act like fools :*' 
and so the incontinent are not unjust, but they act 
imjustly. But since the one is such, as to follow inconti- 
those bodily pleasures, which are in excess, and nence ii 
contrary to right reason, not from being persuaded cma^l«» 
to do so ; but the other is persuaded to it, because 
his character is such, as inclines him to pursue them ; 
therefore, the former is easily persuaded to change, 
but the latter is not. For as to virtue and de- 4, 
pravity, one destroys, and the other preserves the 
principle : but in moral action the motive is the 
principle, just as the hypotheses are in mathematics. 
Neither in mathematics does reason teach the prin- 
ciples, nor in morals, but virtue, either natui^ or 
acquired by habit, teaches to think rightly respect- 
ing the principle. Such a character, therefore, is 
temperate, and the contrary character is intem- 

But there is a character, who from passion is pre- 5, 
cipitate contrary to right reason, which passion so 
£ftr masters, as to prevent him from acting accord- 
ing to right reason ; but it does not master him so 
far, as to make him one who would be persuaded that 
he ought to follow such pleasures without restraint. 
This is the incontinent man; better than the in- 
temperate, and not vicious absolutely ; for the best ' 
thing, i. e. the principle, is preserved. But there if 
another character opposite to this ; he that abidef« 
by his opinions, and is not precipita4;e, at least.* not 



[book vrj, 

tlirough passioiL It is evident, then, fircm the above 
considerations^ that one habit is good, the othef 



&ud obsti- 

and Sv<T' 

liie Diference between the Continent and those who abide by 

their Opinion, 

Is he. then, continent, who abides by any reason and 
any deliberate preference whatever, or he who abides 
by the right one 1 and is he incontinent who does 
not abide by any deliberate preference, and any 
reason whatever, or he who abides by false rea^ton 
and wrong deliberate preference ? on which points 
we raised a question before ; or is he that abides or 
does not abide by any whatever accidentally so, 
but absolutely he who abides or does not abide by 
true reason and right deliberate preference 1 For 
if any one chooses or pursues one thing for the sake 
of another, he pursues and chooses the latter for its 
own sake, but the former accidentally. By tho 
expression " for its own sake " we mean " abso- 
lutely." So that it is possible that the one adheres 
to, and the other departs from, any opinion what- 
ever ; but absolutely the true one. 

But there are some who are apt to abide by their 
opinion who are commonly called obstinate ; as, for 
example, those who are difficult to be persuaded, 
and who are not easily persuaded to change : these 
bear some resemblance to the continent, in the same 
way that the prodigal resembles the liberal, and the 
rash the brave ; but they are different in many re- 
spects. For the one (that is, the continent) is not 
led by passion and desire to change ; for the conti- 
nent man will be easily persuaded under certain 
circumstances ; but the other not even by reascn j 
since many feel desires, and are led by pleasures. 
The obstinate include the self-willed, and the un- 
educated, and the clownish ; the self-willed are ob- 

CUT. Tx.] ETHICS. 139 

stiuute from pleasure and pain ; for they delight 3. 

in gnining a. victory, ii' tliey are not persuaded to '^^'^^ ^'•j" 

cbaiige tbeir opinion; and they feel pain il' ^lieir "^J"' " 

deciaona, like public enactnientB, are not ratified. 

So that they jeaeuible the incontinent more than 

the continent. 

Tliere are Bonie who do not abide by their t. 
opiuiooa, but not from incontinence ; for instance, 
Nooptolemua in the Philoctetea of Sophocles; it 
was on account of pleasure that he did not abide 
by it ; still it was an honourable pleasure ; for to 
speak truth was honourable to him, and he had 
lioen pei-suaded by Ulyasea to speak ialsely : for 
not every one that does anything from pleasure is 
intemperate, or vicious, or incontinent, but he who 
does it for the sake of disgraceful pleasure. 

Since there is such a character as takes less 5. 
dehght than he ought in bodily pleasures, and Eitreme on 
does not abide by reaaon, be who is in the mean ^f ^"^ 
between that and the incontinent is the conti- nimelesi 
neut ; for the incontinent, in consequence of some 
excess, does not abide by reaaon ; and the other, 
in consequence of some defect ; but the continent 
abides by it, and does not change from either cause. 
^Now if continence is good, hoth the up]josite habits 
must be bad, as they appear to be : but because the 
one is seen in few cases and rarely, in the (iame manner 
as temperance is thought to be the only opposite to 
intemperance, so is continence to inooiitineace. But 6. 
since many expresaons ai'e used from resemblance, TLemntin] 
tills is the reason for the uxjjression " the continence ff ''?" '!^ 
of tile temperate man :" for the continent maniaoi-e ■" * 

who would do nothing contrary to reason for the 
sake of bodily pleasures, and so is the temperate ; 
but the former possesses, the latter does not poasesb, 
bad de^es : and the latter is not one to be pleased 
contrary to reason, but the foimer ia one to feel 
jiIcMsure, though not to he led hy it. The case ia 
till.' same with the incontinent and intemperate ; 
Uwv are different, but both pui'sme bodily ]ilea- 
[•?s ; the one thjnkiag tliat he ought, the othei; 

L tliinking so. 

Seo ARISTOTLE'S [book ▼». 


J^t it ii not pouible for the tame Man to be at once 
Prudent and Incontinent. 

1. It is impossible for the same man to be at once 
Why tibe prudent and incontinent : for it has been shown 
incontiiient ^y^^ ^ prudent man is at the same time good in 
PfQ^^|.^ moral character. Again, a man is not pnident 

from merely knowing; but from being also disposed 

2. to act ; but the incontinent is not disposed to act. 
There is nothing to hinder the clever man &om 
being incontinent : and therefore some men now 
and then are thought to be prudent, and yet incon- 
tinent, because cleverness differs from prudence in 
the manner which has been mentioned in the earlier 
part of this treatise (Book VI. c. xii.), and resembles 
ifc with respect to the definition, but differs with 
Inspect to deliberate preference. 

3. The incontinent therefore is not like one who has 
knowledge and uses it, but like one asleep or drunk ; 
and he acts willingly ; for he in a manner knows 
both what he does and his motive for doing it ; but 

Difference he is not wicked ; for his deliberate preference is 
between in- good ; SO that he is half-wicked, and not imjust, for 
continence g^ jg ^^^^ insidious. For one of them is not disposed 
to abide by his deliberations ; and the choleric is 
not disposed to deliberate at all. Therefore, the in- 
continent man resembles a state which passes all 
the enactments which it ought, and has good laws, 
but uses none of them, according to the jest of 

** The state willed it, which careth nought for laws : *' 

but the wicked man resembles a city which uses 

4. laws, but uses bad ones. Incontinence and conti- 

" Anazandrides was a comic poet, of Rhodes, who was 
starred to death by the Athenians, for writing a poem against 
them.— See Atheneus. IX. c. zvi. 

CKAP. X.] ETHICS. 201 

nence are conyersant with the excess over the habit 
of the generality ; for the one is more firm and 
the other less, thaii the generality are able to be. 
But the incontinence of the choleric is more curable The incoiw 
than that of those who have deliberated, but do tinence of 
not abide by their dehberations : and that of those J*»e choleni 
who are in^ntinent from custom, than those who ^f^o?, 
are so by nature ; for it is easier to change custom more curs* 
than nature. For the reason why it is difficult to 1>1^« 
change custom is, because it resembles nature, as 
Evenus says,* 

** Practice, my friend, lasts long, and therefore is 
A second nature, in the end, to man.'' 

"What, then, continence is, and what incontinence, ^» 
and patience, and effeminacy, and what relation these 
habits bear to one another, has been sufficiently 

' Evenus was an elegiac poet of Paros. 

* The four concluding chapters of this book, as printed In 
the Greek, are considered spurious, it heing most improbable 
that Aristotle would have treated of the subject of pleasure 
here in an imperfect manner, and again fully in the tentH 
book. The opinion of Casaubon is that these chapters vntQ 
improperly transferred to this place from the Eudcmism KUdcs. 
They are therefore omitted. 




0/ Fnendship,^ 

1» It iKrOiild follow next after this to tr^ of fiiend* 
^**f*^ d ^P^ ^^^ it is a kind of virtue, or joined with 
•hur i"^" " "^^^^6. Besides, it is most necessary for life : for 
treared of. without friends no one would choose to live, ^ven 
111* reltt- if lie had all other goods.** For to the rich, and to 

' Friendship, although, strictly speaking, it is not a virtue, 
isi nevertheless, closely connected with virtue. The amiable 
feelings and affections of our nature, which are the foundation 
of friendship, if cultivated and rightly directed, lead to the dis- 
charge of our moral and social duties. It is also almost indis- 
pensable to the highest notions which we can form of human 
happiness. On these accounts the subject is appropriately 
introduced in a treatise on Ethics. But friendship acquires 
additional importance from the place which it occupied in 
the Greek political system. As, owing to the public duties 
{XfiTovpyiai) which devolved upon the richer citizens, 
magnificence (fiByaXoTrpsirHa) was nearly allied to patriotism ; 
as, again, to make provision for the moral education of the 
l)eople was considered one of the highest duties of a states- 
man, so friendships, under which term were included all the 
principles of association and bonds of union between indivi- 
duals, involved great public interests. " The Greeks," says 
Mr. Brewer, *' had been accustomed to look upon the friend- 
ships of individuals, and the kraiptiai which existed in 
different forms among them, as the oi^ans, not only of great 
political changes and revolutions in the state, but as influ- 
encing the minds and morals of the people to an almost in- 
conceivable extent. The same influence which the press exerts 
amongst us, did these political and individual unions exert 
amongst them." Many occasions will of course occur of 
comparing with this book the Lselius of Cicero. 

** J^<}am quis est, pro deiim atque hominum fidem ! qui velit, 
ct neqae diligat quenquam, nee ipse ab ullo diligatur, circum • 
Aaere omnibus copiis, atcjue in omnium rerum abundantiA 
vivere } — Cic. Lei. zv. b2. 


I.] ETHICS. 203 

those wlio possess office and authority, there Beema to rHendsuii 
he an espeual need of friends; for what use is there to j'atae. 
in such good fortune, if the power of conferring 2. 
benefits ia taken away, which is exerted principally 
and in the most praiseworthy manner towards 
friends t or how could it he kept sale and preserved 
without friends 1 for the greater it is, the more in- 
secure i^ it. And in poverty and in all other mis- 3, 
fortunes men think that friends are the only reftige.'= 
It is also necessary to the young, in order to keep 
them from error, and to the old, as a comfort to 
them, and to supply that which is deficient in their 
BrCtiona on account of weakness; and to those in the 
vigour of life to further their noble deeds, as the 
poet say^ 

" When two dome CogelhEr," &c. 

For they are more able to conceive and to executa 
It seems also naturallj to exist in the producer 4. 
towards the produced ;" and not only in men, but Thut it ii 
also in birds, and in most auimala, and in those of '^'""''■ 
the same I'ace,^ towards one another, and most of 
human beings : whence we praise the philan- 
[thropic One may see, also, in travelling, how in- 
Lte and friendly every man is with his fullow- 

Friendship also seems to hold states together, and 5. 

AdvenaB res ferre difficile etutt, smi: eoi qui ilias graviua 
iiD hi f-iTFt. Nam ft eecundas tea epEeiididiarcs 
iCU, cc adveraos pdrtieoa comtnauicstiBijue leiiares. 

' The whole paisage is 

" Bf Enutnal conlidf 

Gnat duda are di 

The wise nen |irui 

And one brave tiej 

' Filiola taa te deleeCai 
.■ wpacrd j-io'a.— Cie 
' Qaod ii boo Rgipuret i 
It requirBDi aiqiie 

lr»iiilated by Pope ; — 
Had mottisl tud, 
md greHt discoveriea mojle ; 

from tlie wue acquire, 
IS BDolher'B fire." 

Pope, Horn. 11. i. 265. 
!ir, et probari tibi, ^ivuii^y euo 
Ln. v.i. 2, 4. 

:tii8, primuni nt se ipsirdiligaril. 
'taiit, ad nuas se applicent pja»- 

204 ARISTOTLE S [book yici. 

Friendship legislators appear to pay more attention to it than 
of impor- to justice ; for imanimity of opinion seems to be 
^S^'t something resembling Mendship; and they are 
supersedes i^ost desirous of this, and bcmish fsu^on as being 
justice. the greatest enemy. And when men are friends^ 
there is no need of justice :S but when they are 

6. just, they still need Mendship. And of all just 
things that which is the most so is thought to belong 

It ig KnXov. to Mendship. It is not only necessary, but also 
honourable ; for we praise those who are fond of 
friends ; and the haying many Mends seems to be 
one kind of things honourable. 

7, But there are not a few questions raised concem- 
ing it ; for some lay it down as being a kind of 
resemblance, and that those who resemble one 
another are friends ; whence they say, " like to 
like,"^ " Jackdaw to jackdaw," and so on : others, 
on the contrary, say that all such are like potters 

^ to one another. And on these points they carry 

their investigation higher and more physiologically. 
Euripides says, 

'* The earth parch'd up with drought doth love the rain : 
The lowering heavens when filled with moisture love 
To faU to earth." » 

Heraclitus*^ also thought that opposition is adyan- 
tageous, and that the most beautiful harmony arises 
from things different, and that everything is pro- 

f This is true upon the same principle which is the foun- 
dation of the Christian maxim, *' Love is the fulfilling of the 

»» See Hom. Od. xvii. 218 :— 

'* The good old proverb does this pair fulfil, 
One rogue is usher to another still. 
Heaven with a secret principle endued 
Mankind, to seek their own similitude." — Pope, 

The proverb Kspafiivg Kfpafiii Rorlec, is from Hesiod, 
Works and Da3rs, 25. It is equivalent to our own proverb— 
*• Two of a trade can never agree." — See also Arist. Rhet. 
Book II. c. iv. 

' The whole passage may be found in Atheneus's Deipnos. 

^ Heraclitus of Ephesus held that all things were produce * 
** ex motu contrario rerum contrariamm." 

CHAP r«.j ETHICS. 205 

duced by strife. Ot'aers, and especially Empedoclea,^ 8. 
lield contrary opinions, for they lield — that like is 
fond of like. 

Now, let the physiological questions be passed over, 
for they do not belong to our present consideration. 
But as for all the questions which have to do with 
man, and refer to his moral character and his pas- 
sions, these let us consider ; as, for instance, whe- 
ther fiiendship exists between all, or whether it is 
impossible for the wicked to be Mends : and, whe- Wliether 
ther there is only one species of fiiendship, or more ; friendship 
^or those who think there is only one, because it ^^ ®^*^* 
vimits of degrees, trust to an iimuffident proof : JJU-ked. 
for things differing in species admit of degrees; Whether it 

but we have spoken of this before.^ of more 

kinds than 

CHAP. n. 

What the Object of Love is. 

Perhaps we might arrive at clear ideas about these l. 
matters if it were known what the object of love is : ^iXfrAare^ 
for it is thought to be not everything which is loved, 7 J? »/ 
but only that which is an object of love ; and this ^qI^J^^^^** 
is the goo5, the pleasant, or the useful That would 
be thought to be useful, by means of which some 
good or some pleasure is produced : so that the good 
and pleasant would be objects of love, considered 
as ends. Do men, then, love the good, or that which 
is good to themselves ? for these sometimes are at 
variance. The case is the same with the pleasant. 
Each is thought to love that which is good to him- 

' Compare what Cicero says of Empedocles, in the Lselios, 
c. vii. : — ** Agrigentinum quidem doctum qusedam carminibus 
Greecis Taticinatam ferunt, qose in remm natura totoque 
mundo constarent, quaeque mAverentari ea contrahere amici' 
tiam , dissipare concordiam . ' * 

™ The scholiast says that the passage in which this subject 
was before spoken of must have been lost, but it probably 
refers to £th. Book II. c. yiiL 

906 ARISTOTLE'S [book Mit. 

self ; aud absolutely the good is an object of loTe. 
but relatiyely to each indiyidua!, that which is so 
to each. 

2. Now, each loves not that which is in reality good 
fhe 0tXti- to himself, but that which appears so ; but zlua will 
ruv 18 the j^gjj-^ jj^ difference ; for the object of love will be 
rlaOdv. ^^^ which appears to be good. But since there 
vVe have no are three motives on account of which men love, the 
friendship term Mendship cannot be used to express a fond- 

'^t'Sd*" ^®^ ^^^ things inanimate : for there is no return 
of fondness, nor any wishing of good to them.*^ For 
it is perhaps ridiculous to wish good to wine ; but if 
a man does so, he wishes for its preservation, in order 

3. that he himself may have it. But we say that 
men should wish good to a Mend for his sake j and 
those who wish good to him thus, we call well-dis- 
posed, unless there is also the same feeling enter- 
tained by the other party ; for good-will mutually 
felt is finlendship ; or must we add the condition, 
that this mutual good-will must not be unknown 

i. to both parties 1 For many feel good-will towards 
those whom they have never seen, but who they 
suppose are good or useful to them; and this same 
feeling may be reciprocated. These, then, do in-t 
deed appear well-disposed towards one another; 
but how can one call them Mends, when neither 
Uefinitlon. knows how the other is disposed to him ? They 
ought, therefore, to have good-will towards each 
other, and wish each other what is good, not with- 
uot each other's knowledge, and for one of the mo- 
tives mentioned. 

CHAP. in. 

On the different kinds of Friendship, 

1. But these motives differ in species from one ano« 
!t^^*^''^ ther; therefore the affections do so likewise, and the 
«hip. . ■ Compare Rhet. II. iv. 

, .t..] 



iVieudahipa ; consequently ttere are three spociea .if 
frieudship, equal in number to the ofajecta of loi'C, 
sinoe in each there is a return of afTection, and both 
parties are aware of it. Bat those who love ono 
another wish what is good to one another, according 
to tlie motive on account of which they love. J^oiv, % 
those who lore Qne _ aj; ot he r for the_Biie of tlie use; 
JTir."gQ not l ove each other disintereste^iy. but onlv. 
HO far forth as there results iiome good to t hem^lT Cs 

who_l ove for tha salie of pleaaurej for they do not 
love the witty li\>m tbeif "being of such a characte;-, 
hut b ecanse thoy are jileaaant to them : and, there- 
fore, Tnose who love ior the sake of the useful love 
for tlie sake of what is good to themselvea, and 
those who love for the sake of pleasure love for the 
sake of what is pleasant to themselves, and not pi> 
tar forth aa the person loved exists, but so far forth 
as he is uaefiil or- pleasant. ~ , 

These friendships, ttiercfbre, are accidental; for3. Y 
the pereon loved is not loved-ibr being wht^he is, but ^^, . 
for providing something Mther good or pleasant; eon- "'P^'""'' 
sequently such triendsUps are easOy dissolved, if the ^md fiii ri 
parties do not continue in ^milar circumstonoes; for t/Sv, are 
if they are no longer pleasant or useful, tiey cease ^"^"y **'?■ 
to love. Now the useftil is not permanent, but be- ™'"''' °^ 
comes different at diflerent times ; therefore, when denwi. 
that ia done away for the sake of which they be- 
came friends, the ftieadship also ia dissolved; which 
clearly shows that the friendship was for those mo- 
tives. Sui^friendshipisthought mostly to be formed 4. 
between old mea;° for men at such an ago do not y^ formm 
pursue the pleaaajit, but the ufiefiil ; and it ia fbnnd 'la"! 
amongst those in the prime of life and in youth iwecij tlie 
who pursue the usefiil. iild. 

But auch persons do not generally even associate 
with one another, for sometimes they are not plea- 
Bint ; consequently they do not need auch intimacy. 

208 ARISTOTLE'S [soob Yin. 

unless they are useful to each other ; for they axe 
pleasant so £ar as they entertain hopes of good. 
Amongst Mendships of this kind is ranked that of 
5. hospitality. The friendship of the young is thought 
The latter to be for the sake of pleasure ; for they live accord- 
between the ing to passion, and mostly pmrnie what is pleasant 
young. ^Q themselves and present ; but as they grow older, 
their idea of what is pleasant also becomes different ; 
therefore they quickly bexsome friends and quickly 
cease to be so ; for their friendship changes together 
with what is pleasant ; and of such pleasure as this 
G« the change is rapid. Toimg men also are given to 
sexual love ; for the principal part of sexual love is 
from passion and for the sake of pleasure; there- 
fore they love and quickly cease to love, changing 
often in the same day; but they wish to pass their 
time together and to associate, for thus they attain 
\s^ what they sought in their friendship. 

7. The friend^p of thf...Ci7nd an^ of those who 
The friend- are''^3ifce~1n~virtuels perfect : for th ese wish goo< 

ship of the a?r " ;.^ ^^;,vi;rr "^r^ 'i\:I^c,::.r::z t„^^''''':r7^f T:^\l ^ « 

^/i TO one anotner in tne same way, so lar lortn as 

t^^-^"lS?^i .^^^ *^®y ^® S^^^ ^^ themselves; 
and those who wish good to their friends for the 

friends' sake are friends in the highest degree, for 

they have this feeling for the sake of the friends 

themselves, and not accidentally; their friendship, 

therefore, continues as long as they are good ; and 

mcludes the virtue is a permanent thing.? And each is good ab- 

6t^s\ifiov solutely and also relatively to his friend, for the 

•nd rjcv, good are both absolutely good and also relatively to 

one another; for to eaxjh their own actions and 

those which are like their own are pleasant, but the 

actions of the good are either the same or similar. 

8. iSuch friendship as this is, as we might expect, 
Is perma- permanent, for it contains in it all the requisites for 
nent. friends ; for every friendship is for the sake of good 

or pleasure, either absolutely or to the person loving^ 
and results from a certain resemblance. In thia 

^ Virtus, virtus inquam, et conciliat amicitias et conservat { 
in ea est enim couvenientia rerum, in ea stabilitas, in ea con- 
fttautia. — Cic. Lxl. xzvii. 

cn>p. IV.] STHTCS. 2W 

fiicndship, all that has been mentioned exists h\ 
the parties themselves, for in this there is a simi- 
larity, and all the other requisites, and that which 
is absolutely good is also absolutely pleasant ; but 
these are the principal objects of love, and therefore 
the feeling friendship, and friendship itself, exists, 
and is best, in these more than in any others. 

It is to be expected that such would be rare, 9. 
for there are few such characters as these. More- Raje, re- 
over, it requires time and long acquaintance, for, ^^^^^ ^'d^* 
according to the proverb, it is impossible for men to 
know one another before they have eaten a stated 
quantity of salt together,^ nor oan they admit each 
other to intimacy nor become friends before each 
appears to the other worthy of his friendship, and 
his confidence. Those who hastily perform offices of 10. 
friendship to one another are willing to be friends, 
but are not really so imless they are also worthy 
of friendship, and are aware of this ; for a wish for 
friendship is formed quickly, but not friendship. 
This species of friendship, therefore, both with respect 
to time and everything else, is perfect, and in all 
respects the same and like good offices are rnter- 
chsmged ; and this is precisely what ought to be the 
case between friends. 

CHAP. lY. 

That (he Good are Friends absolutely t but all others 


Friendship for the sake of the pleasant bears a r. 

resemblance to this, for the good are pleasant to 

one another ; so also that which is for the sake of 

the useful, for the good are useftd to one another. 

Between these persons friendships are most perma- 2. 

nent when there is the same return from both to Equality 

causes pen 

4 Verumque illud est qnod dicitur multos modios salU manence. 
simul edendos esse, ut amidtse munus ezpletum rit.-- Cie. 
Ltel. xix. 


tlO ARISTOTLE'S [bouk vitt. 

ooth, for instance, of pleasure. And not Only so^ 

but a return from the same cause, for instance, in 

the case of two persons of easy pleasantry ; and not 

as in the case of the lover and the person beloved, 

for these do not feel pleasure in the same things, but 

Prieidahip the one in seeing the beloved object, and the other 

betwMo in receiving attention from the lover; but when the 

torers not bloom of youth ceases, sometimes the friendship 

permanen . ^jg^g^g qI^^ f^j, ^j^^ sight of the beloved object is 

no longer pleasant to the one, and the other does 
not receive attention ; many, however, continue 
friends if from long acquaintance they love the cha- 
racter, being themselves of the same character. 

3. Those who in love affidrs do not interchange 
the pleasant but the usefrd are both friends in a less 
degree, and less permanently; but those who are 
friends for the sake of the useful- dissolve their 
friendship when that ends; for they were not fdetids 
to one another but to the useM. 

4. Consequently, for the sake of pleasure and the 
Between nseftil, it is possible for the bad to be friends with 
whom there ^j^^ another, and the good with the bad^ and one 
frieniUhips ^^^ ^ neither good nor bad with either ; but for 
iiA TO xpn- *^ ^^® ^^ ^ne another, evidently only the good can 
aiftov and be friends, for the bad feel no pleasure in the per- 
^,'^^, ^^ sons themselves, unless so far as there is some ad- 
*' *'' 5 vantage. The fiiendship of the good is alone safe 
Friendship from calumny, for it is not easy to believe any one 
of the good respecting one who has been proved by ourselves 
alone safe during a long, space of time ; and between such per- 
lumnv^' ^^^^ there is confidence and a certainty that one's 

friend would never have done wrong,^ and every- 
6. thing else which is expected in real friendship. In 
the other kinds of friendships there is nothing to 
liinder such thiijgs from occurring ; consequently, 
dnce men call those friends who are so for the S2\ke 
of the useful, just as states do (for jdhances seem 
to be formed between states for the sake of advan- 

' Nnnquam Scipionem, ne minima quidem re offendi, quod 
quidera senserim ; nihil audivi ex eo ipse, quod nolhnon. — Cic 
«iite?. xzvii 

OHAf. r.] ETHICS. Ill 

tage), and also those who love one another for th* 
sak-e of pleasure, as children do, perhaps we als 
ought to say that such men are Mends, but that 
there are many kinds of friendship ; first and prin- 
cipally, that of the good so far forth as they are 
good, and the others from their resemblance ; for 
so far forth as there is something good or simi- 
larity of character, so fiar they are friends ; for tJie 
pleasant is a kind of good to those who love the 

These two latter kinds do not combine well, nor 7. 
do the same people become friends for the sake of 
the useful and the pleasant ; for two things which 
are accidental do not easily combine. Friendship, 
therefore, being divided into these kinds, the bad 
vnli be friends for the sake of the pleasant and the 
useful, being similar in that respect ; but the good 
will be friends for the friends' sake, for they will be 
«o, so far forth as they are good ; the latter, there- 
fore, are friends absolutely, the former accidentally, 
and from their resemblance to the latter. 


Certain other distinctive Marks which belong to the ^ ■" 
Friendship of the Good, '' 

As in the case of the virtues some are called good 1. 
according to the habit, others according to the Difference 
energy of it," so is it also in the case of friendships ; ^*^Yt*^d^ 
for some take pleasure in each other, and mutually energy^ 
confer benefits by living together; but others being friendsiiiit^ 
asleep or locally separated, do not act, but are in a 
state so as to act in a friendly manner; for diff*erenco 
of place does not absolutely dissolve friendship, but 
only the exercise of it. But if the absence is long, it 2. 

* Fritzsch compares e^ic (habit) with the German das Ver- 
halten, and Ivkpyua (energj) with die Verwirklichung, Wirk 

It w 

212 ARl.STOTLE*b* [b€>ok mf. 

seems to produce a cessation of friendahip; and 
hence it has been said, 

'' Want of intercourse has dissolved many friendships." 

But the aged and the morose do not appear suited 
for friendship, for the feehng of pleasure is "weak 
in them, and no one can pass his time with that 
which is painful or not pleasant, for nature is espe- 
cially shown in avoiding what is painful and desir- 

3. ing what is pleasant. But those who approve of one 
Without another, without living together, seem rather well 
intercourse iQciined than friends, for nothing is so characteristic 
tvvota, ^^ friendship as the living together ; for the needy 

desire assistance, and the happy wish to pass their 
time together, since it least of all becomes them to 
be solitary. But it is impossible for men .to asso- 
ciate together if they are not pleasant, and if they 
do not take pleasure in the same things; which seeni» 
to be the case with the friendship of companions.* 

4. The friendship of the good, then, is friendship in- 
the highest degree, as has been said frequently ; for 
that which is absolutely good or pleasant is thought 
to be an object of love and eligible, and to each 
individual that which is so to him ; but the good 
man is an object of love and eligible to the good. 

Difference for both these reasons. Fondness^ is like a pas- 
between sion, andMendship like a habit ; for fondness is 
ipiXijfns and felt no less lOWMHlS'liianliii&trttdngs, but we re- 
^* *"* turn friendship with deliberate choice, and deliberate 

choice proceeds from habit. We also wish good to 
those whom we love for their sakes, not from pas- 
sion but from habit ; and when we love a friend, 
we love that which is good to ourselves; for the 
good man, when he becomes a friend, becomes a good 
to him whose friend he is. Each, therefore, loves 
that which is good to himself, and makes an equal 
retmTi both in wish and in kind for equality is saiil 

* By IraiptKi^ 0iXia Aristotle means that intimacy which 
exists between those who have grown up together, and been 
accustomed to each other's society from boyhood. 

* Amor, ex quo amicitia nominatur, est ad benevolentizm 
jongendam. — Cic. LkI. viii.] ETHICS. 213 

proverbially to be Mendship.^ These conditions, 

tnerefore, exist mostly in the friendship of the 


Certain other distinctive marls which belong to Friendsh^, 

In the morose and the aged Mendship less frequently 1* 
arises, inasmuch as they are more ill-tempered, and ^^^ °?®^ ^^ 
take less pleasure in society ; for good-temper and fo^^^d- 
sociality seem to belong to friendship, and to pro- ghips. 
duce it in the greatest degree. Therefore young 
men become friends quickly, but old men do not ; 
for they never become friends of those in whom 
they do not take pleasure ; nor in like manner do 
the miorose. But such men as these have good-will 2. 
towards one another ; for they wish what is good, 
and supply each other's wants; but they are not 
friends at all, because they do not pass their time 
together, nor take pleasure in each other ; and 
these conditions are thought especially to belong to 

To be friends with many, is impossible in per- 3. 
feet friendship ; just as it is to be in love with many Truefriend^ 
at once ; for love appears to be an excess ; and such ®*"P '^^ 
a feeling is naturally entertained towards one ob- pj^jble!' 
ject. And that many at once should greatly please 
the same person is not easy, and perhaps it is not 
easy to find many persons at once who are good. 
They must also become acquainted with one another, 
and be on intimate terms, which is very dij£cult. 
For the sake of the usefrd and the pleasant, it is 
possible to please many ; for many are of that cha- 
racter, and the services required are performed in a 
short time. Of these, that which is for the sake of 4. 
the pleasant is most like friendship, when the same Friendship 

' See Milton's Par. Lost, viii. 333 :— ofthtvoung 


Among unequals what society 

Can sort, what harmony, or true deh'ght ?" 

Til ARISTOTLE'S fuooK vixi. 

good offices are done oy both, and they take pleasuoa 

in one another, or in the same things ; of which 

description are the fiicndsliips of the yonng ; for 

Of trades- there is more libfi-ality in them. That which is for 

men. the sake of the useful, is the friendship of tradesmen. 

5. The happy do not want useful but pleasant friends. 
Of the for they wish to have some persons to live with ; 
Wpy- and they bear anything painful for a short tinae 

ou'y ; nor could any one bear it constantly, not even 
good itself, if it were painful to him ; hence they 
seek for pleasant frientfc. Perhaps also they ought 
to seek such as are good, and good also to them- 
selves : for thus they will have all that Mend» 
ought to have. 

6. Those who are in authority seem to make use 
Of KisQ in q£ different kinds of friends ; for some are useful to 
^^^^' them, and others pleasant; but the same men are 

not generally both ; for they do not seek for friends 
who are pleasant and good as well, nor such as 
are usefrd for honourable purposes : but they wish 
for men of wit, when they desire the pleasant, and 
they wish for clever men to execute their com- 
mands : and these qualities are not generally- 
united in the same person. But we have said 
that the good man is at once pleasant and useful ; 
but such a character does not become the friend of 
a superior, unless the latter is surpassed by the 
former in virtue ; otherwise the person who is infe- 
rior in power, does not make a proportionate return ; 
but such men are not usually found. 

7. All the friendships, therefore, which have been 
mentioned consist in equality : for the same things 
result from both parties, and they wish the same 
things to each other ; or else they exchange one thing" 
for another, such as pleasure for profit. But that 
these friendships are less strong and less permanent 
has been mentioned , they seem also from their simi- 
larity and dissimilarity to the same thing to be, and 
yet not to be, friendships; for from their resem- 
blance to that which is formed for virtue's sake, they 
appear friendships ; since one contains the plea.«yint> 


and tlie other the useful, and both of these exist in 
the former also- But from the former being free 
from complaints, and lasting, whereas these rapidly 
change, and differ in many other respects, th^y 
apfiear not to be friendships, from theii Avant of 
resemblance to true friendship. 

CHAP. vn. 

Respecting Friendship between Persons who are Unequal, 

There is another species of friendship, where one 1. 
of the parties is superior ; as that of a fether for **^*« *f«^ 
his son, and generally an older for a younger per- vt€^ox»|v. 
son, and a husband for his wife, and a governor for 
the governed. But these differ from one another ; 
for the case is not the same between parents and 
children, as between governors and the governed ; 
nor is the feeling of a father for his son the same 
as that of a son for his father, nor of a husband for 
his wife, as of a wife for her husband ; for the per- 
fection and office of each of these is diffeient ; there- 
fore the motives of their friendsliip ai^ different, 
(consequently their affections and their friendships 
themselves are different ; hence the same offices are 
not performed by each to the other, nor ought they 
to be required. But when children j)ay to their 
parents what is due to those who begat them, and 
parents to their children what is due to them, the 
fiiendship in such cases is lasting and sincere. But 
in all friendships, where one party is superior, the 
affection also ought to be proportionate ; as, for 
example, that the better person should be loved in 
a greater degree than he loves, so also the more use- There will 
fill person, and in like manner in eveiy other case, he equahty 

For when the affection is proportional, then there ^i®^*^^. 
. . I'j^ TL- T_ X T- .1 affection IS 

w m a manner an equality ; which seems to be the propor- 

propeity of friendship. lionaL 

The equal does not seem to be the same in justice 3* 

f 16 ARISTOTLE'S [book vin. 

as in Mendship ; for equality in proportion to merit 
holds t|ie first place in justice, and equality as tc 
quantity the second ; but in Mendship, that which 
relates to quantity is first, and that which relates 
to merit is second. This is evident, if there is a 
great distance between the parties in virtue, or 
vice or wealth, or anything else : for they are then 
no longer fiiends, and they do not even expect it. 
4« This is most evident in the case of the gods ; for 
they are most superior in all goods : it is also evident 
in the case of kings ; for they who are very infe- 
rior do not presume to be fiiends with them ; nor 
do the worthless presume to be so with the best or 
wisest men. In the case of such persons as these, 
there can be no exact definition how far they may 
be fiiends ; for though we may take away much fi:oni 
one party, still the fiiendship continues ; but when very far i*emoved from the other, as from, a 
5. god, it continues no longer. Hence also a question 
Whether arises whether friends wish their fiiends the greatest 
men J^ish goods, for instance, that they should become gods : 
•iTeoods! ^^^ t^QT^ they would no longer be their fiiends ; and 
therefore they would not be goods to them : for 
fiiends are goods. If, therefore, it has been rightly 
said, that a fiiend wishes his friend good for that 
friend's sake, he ought to continue, relatively to 
that fiiend, the same as he was before. He will, 
therefore, wish him to have the greatest goods which 
he can have being a man : though perhaps not 
every good ; for each wishes goods for himself more 
than to any one else.^ 

* Great difference of opinion exists amongst commentators 
as to the way in which this passage ought to be translated ; 
the following paraphrase will explain that translation which 
appears to me the only one consistent with the argument, 
and at the same time grammatical. If a friend wished his 
friend to become a god, he would be wishing him to be so far 
removed as that he would cease to be a friend. Xonsequently, 
as friends are goods, in wishing such change of circumstances 
as would . deprive him of his friendship, he is really wishing to 
deprive his friend of a good. Now, if a friend wishes good to 
his friend for that friend's sake, of course he will not wish their 
relative position to be altered in such a way as to put an end ta 

lieinj loved. 

Most men, from the love of hononr, are thotight to i. 
wish to be loved, rather than to love ; therefore the Moat msn, 
generality are fond of flattery ; for the Uatterer is ['''«" '''^'' 
an inferior friend, or pretends to be so, and to love ^'JJ'noar, 
rather th&n to be loved : and being loved Beems wtEh to 
to bear b close resemblance to being honoured, of be luved 
which most men are desirous. They do not, how- ™^*^'' f"" 
ever, seem to choose honour for its own sak^ but ^ "''■ 
nccidentaUy ; for the generahty delight in being 
honoured by those in power, because of hope ; for 
they think that they diall obtain from them what- 
ever they want. ThvA they delight in honour, as a 
sign of fiiture favours. But those who are deairons 3. 
of receiving honour from good men and men who 
know their worth, are anxious to confirm their own 
opinion of themselves : thus they delight iu the idea 
that they are good, trusting to the judgment of those ■ 
who say so. But they delight in being loved for its 

»own sake ; thei-efore to be loved might seem to be 
better than to be honom^d, and fi'iendtiliip might 
seem eligible for its own sake. 
Bnt it really seems to consist in loving, rather *- 
than being loved. A proof of this is, tiiat mothers ^"J' friend- 
delight in loving ; for some give their children to be ^j^^ ^^^^ 
■Qursed, and, knowing that they are their children, in loving. 
love them, though they do not seek to be loved in than being 
return, if both cannot be ; hut it seems sufficient to 'o^e'l- Mo. 
them if they see them doing well ; and they love their pr^f "f 
children, even if the latter, from ignorance, cannot thie. 

Ii'epay to thoir'mother what is due. But since friend- 5, 
ship consists more in loving, and those who love their 1?'."* '","* 
friends are praised, to love seenia to be the excel- \^^ " 
tlipir fricndahiu. Ho would, therefore, onlv Hi.sli hia friend '"'^''^^'P- 

ild ARISTOTLE'S [book tui. 

enoe of Mends. So tliat the parties between whom 
this taAs place proportionately are lasting £riends, 
and the Mendfdiip of such is lasting. In this 
manner those who are unequal, may also be the 
greatest friends ; for they may be equalized. But 
equality and similarity constitute friendship, and 
particularly the similarity of those who are alike 
with respect to virtue ; for as they possess stability 
in themselves, they also possess the same towards 
each other, and neither a^ nor render base services^ 
but, so to speak, they even prevent it : for it is the 
chfuacteristic of the good neither to commit fieuilts 
themselves, nor to suffer their Mends to commit 
5, them. The wicked have no stability ; for they 
do not continue consistent even with themselves ; 
but they become Mends for a short: time, taking 
delight in each other's wickedness. The useful and 
the pleasant continue Mends longer than these ; for 
they continue as long as they furnish pleasure and 
profit to one another. 
7. The Mendship which is for the sake of the usefiil 
Friendship appears generally to be formed out of opposite ele- 
^ , '' ments ; for instance, it arises between a poor man 

exists chiefly ^^^ ^ ^^^ ^^®> ^^ uneducated and a learned man ; 
between for whatever a needy person wants, being desirous 
opposites. of that, he gives something else in return. Under 
this head one might bring the lover and the beloved, 
the beautiftd and the ugly. Hence, also, lovers some- 
times appear ridiculous if they expect to be loved as 
much as they love : when they are equally suitable 
objects of love, they may perhaps expect it ; but when 
they possess no qualification of the kind, it is ridi- 
9. culous. But perhaps the oi)posite never desires its 
opposite for its own sake, but accidentally ; and the 
desire is for the mean, for that is a good : for exam- 
ple, what is dry desires not to become moist, but to 
arrive at the mean ; so also wliat is warm, and 
everjrthing else in the same wny. Let us, however, 
leave these considerations as foreign to our pur^ 

CHA-. IX. j ETHICS. fX*^ 


Pespecttng Political or Social Friendship, 

Friendship and the just appear, as was said at first, l. ' 
to be conversant with the sa^e thing?, and between In every 
the same persons ; for in every community there commmuty 
seems to oxist some kind of just and some kind of friendship, 
friendship. Thus soldiers and sailors call their com- 
i*ades friends, and so likewise those who are asso- 
ciated in any other way. But as far as they have 
anything in common, so far there is friendship ; for 
so far also there is the just. And the proverb, that 
the property of friends is common, is correct ; for 
friendship consists in community : and to, brothers 
and companions all things are common ;^ but to 
others, certain definite things, to some more, to 
others less; for some friendships are stronger, and 
others weaker. 

There is also a difference in the just; for it is 2. 
not the same between parents and children as The just is 
between brothers ; nor between companions as be- ^ggs^the 
tween citizens ; and so on in every other friend- game, 
ship. Acts of injustice, therefore, are different be- 
tween each of these, and are aggravated by being 
committed against greater friends ; for instance, it 
is more shameful to rob a companion of money than 
a fellow-citizen, and not to assist a brother than a 
fftranger, and to strike one's father than any one 
else. It is the nature of the just to increase together 
with friendsliip, as they are between the same par- 
ties, and of equal extent. All communities seem 3, 
like parts of the political community; for men unite All com- 
together for some advantage, and to provide them- mnnities 
selves with some of the things needful for life. Po- '**«*"*^ i 
litical community seems also originally to have been 

' In the same way the early Christian brotherhood had all 
things in common. 

2S0 ARISTOTLE'S [book vnr. 

forme :^ and still to continue^ for tlie sake of ad« 
vantage ; for legislators aim at this, and say that 
what is expedient to the community is just. 

^^ Kow all other communities desire advantage in 
* particular cases ; as, for example, sailors desire that 
for which they make their voyage, — ^money, for in- 
stance, or something of that land ; soldiers that 
which belongs to war,— either money, or victory, or 
the taking of a dty ; and in like manner people of 
the same tribe and borough seek each their own 
advantage. Some communities seem to have been 
formed for the sake of pleasure ; such as bacchanalian 
revels and clubs : for these were formed for the 

S. sake of sacrifice and associating together J All these 
seem to be included Tinder the social community ; 
for this does not aim at mere present expediency, but 
at that which influences the wKgle_of life ; hence 
sacrifices are instituted and honours paid to the gods 
in such assemblies, and men are themselves furnished 
with opportunities of pleasant relaxation j for the 
ancient sacrifices and general meetings seem to have 
been held as first-firuits after the gathering in of 
harvest j for the people had most leisure at that time. 
All communities, therefore, seem to be parts of the 
political community ; and similar Mendships will 
accompany such communities. 


Of the three forms of Civil Government j and the Deflectiona 

from them, 

!• There are three forms of civil government,' and as 
IIoAtTf H jjjgj^y deflections, which are, as it were, corruptions 


7 Compare Hor. Ep. II. i. 139. 

* If this chapter is compared with the eighth chapter of the 
first book of the Rhetoric, it will be found that this subject is 
treated more scientifically and with greater accuracy in the 
Bthics than in the Rhetoric. The reason of this evidently is* 

CHAP. X.] ETHICS. 221 

of them. The former are, Mona. fchy, Aristocracy, Monarchy 
and a third, on the principle of property, wHch it Atisto- 
seems appropriate to call a Timocracy : hut the cracy. 
generality are accustomed to apply the term** j.K>lity" ^""o^^"*'/* 
exclusively to this last. Of these, monarchy is the 
best, and timocracy the worst. The deflection from 2. 
monarchy is tyranny ; for both are monarchies : Tyranny, 
but there is the greatest difference between them ; 
for the tyrant looks to his own benefit, the king to 
that of his subjects ; for he is not a king who is not 
independent, and who does not abound in all goods ; 
but such an one as this wants nothing else ; and 
consequently he would not be considering what is 
beneficial to himself, but to his subjects ; for he 
that does not act so, must be a mere king chosen 
oj lot."* But tyranny is the opposite to this ; for a 
tyrant pursues his own peculiar good. And it is 3. 
more evident on this ground, that it is the worst ( 

form of all ; for that is worst, which is opposite to 
the best. But the transition from kingly power 
is to tyranny ; for tyranny is a corruption of mo- 
narchy, and a bad king becomes a tyrant. 

The transition from aristocracy is to oligarchy, 4. 
through the wickedness of those in power, who dis- Oligarchy, 
tribute the offices of the state without reference to 
merit, give all or most good things to themselves, 
and the offices of state constantly to the same people, 
setting the highest value upon wealth : conse- 
quently a few only are in power, and the bad instead 
of the best. The ti-ansition from timocracy is to 5. 
democracy ; for they border upon one another, since Democracy, 
a timocracy naturally inclines to be in the hands of 

that a discussion on the diHerent forms of government fomoB 
an essential part of the former treatise ; whereas it only be- 
longs accidentally to the latter. It is only necessary for the 
orator to know the nature and principles of government as 
they are found practically to exist. The Ethi(^ student, on 
the contrary, should know what they ought to be in theory as 
well as what they really are in their practical developments. 
These considerations will account for the different modes of 
treatment which Aristotle has adopted in his two treatises. 

"* That if; a king who owes bis i^gnity to his good (ortoodt 
ind not to any merits of his own. 

222 ARISTOTLE'S [boob. viii. 

the multitude, and all wlio are in the same class as 
to property are equal But democracy is the least 
vicious, for its constitutional princifdes are but 
slightly changed. Such, then, are the principal 
changes in forms of government ; for thus they 
change the least and in the most natural manner. 

6. One may find resemblances, and as it were, ex- 
Analogy amples of these, even in private families ; for the 
between go- relation of a fiither to his sons wears the form of 
in a state, monarchy: for the father takes care of the chil- 
and govern- dren. Hence, also, Homer calls Jupiter fisither ;^^ 
ment in a for the meaning of a kingdom is a paternal govern- 
family. ment. But in Persia the authority of a father is 

tyrannical, for they use .their sons Hko slaves. 

7. The authority of a master over his slaves is also 
tjorannical ; for m that the benefit of the maater is 
consulted. This, therefore, appears right, but that 
of the Persians is wrong ; for the power of those 
who are in different circumstances ought to be 
different. The relation of a man to his wife 
seems to be aristocratical ; for the husband go- 
verns because it is his due, and in those things 
which a husband ought ; and whatever is suitable 
for the wife he gives up to her. When the husband 
lords it over everything, it changes into an oli- 
garchy ; for he does this beyond what is his right, 
and not only so fe-r forth as he is superior But 
sometimes women, when they are heiresses, govern. 
Thus they govern not according to merit, but 
because of wealth and influence, as in oHgarchies. 

8. The relation which subsists between brothers is Jike 
Timocracy, a timocracy ; for they are equal ; except so far as 
brothers, ^y^^^ differ in age. Therefore, if there is a great 

disparity in their ages, the friendship is no longer 
Democracy, like that of brothers. A democracy takes place 
*. '^"^jjy mostly, in families where there is no master (for 
ta no maa. *^^^6 ^^ ^® equal) ; and wherever the ruler in 
tw. weak, and each member acts as lie likes. 

^^ Hariip avopiav n ^eiHv r«, — ** Father of gods and men 
-Horn. t)assim. 


—Horn, passim 

CHAf xiO ETHICS. 223 


Cf the friendship which exists under each form of 


In each of these forms of government there is 1. 
evidently a friendship, coextensive wich "the just" J**®**^^* 
in each.<^° Friendship between a king and his sub- go*vernmeii! 
jects consists in conferring superior benefits ; for there is a 
he does good to his subjects, if he is good and takes friendship, 
care of them, that they may be well off, as a shep- 
herd takes care of his sheep ;^ whence also Homer 
calls Agamemnon " the shepherd of the people." 
Such also is paternal Mendship ; but it exceeds the 
former in the greatness of the benefits which it 
confers ; for the father is the cause of the son's 
existence, which is esteemed the greatest thing, 
and also of food and of education. The same things 2. 
are also ascribed to ancestors ; for a fether is by 
nature the governor of his sons, and ancestors of 
their descendants, and a king of his subjects. These 
friendships imply superiority; whence also parents 
receive honour ; therefore also the just is not the 
same between the two parties, but according to 
proportion ; for thus also must the friendship be. 

Between hasband and wife there is the same 3. 
friendship as in an aristocracy ; for their relation is 
according to merit, ani the greater is given to the 
better person, and to each tiiat which is suitable. 
The just also subsists between them in the same 
way. The friendship of brothers is like the friend- 
ship of companions ; for they are equal and of the 
same age ; and such persons generally have the 

•=« Wherever the expression " the just" occurs, it must be 
remembered that its signification is '* the abstract principle of 

dd The Christian student need not be reminded how often 
this metaphor is made use of in Holy Scripture to describe the 
lelation in which our heavenly King stands to his kingdom lbs 

•24 ARISTOTLE'S [bo i: nil. 

4^ same feelings anl the same moral cliaractcr. Tlui 
Mendsliip of a iimocracy is therefore like this y 
for citizens think themselves equal and equitable ; 
consequently, the government is held by all in 
&• turn, and equally. The Mendship also in a timo- 
ttere^no ^ cracy is of the same kind. But in the deflectiona, 
friendship. ^ there is but little of " the just," so also there is 
but little friendship, and least of all in the Tvorst. 
For in a tyranny there is no friendship, or very 
little ; for between those parties, where the ruler 
and the ruled have nothing in common, there is no 
^« friendship ; for there is no principle of justice. The 
case, in fact, is the same as between a workman and 
his tool, the soul and the body, a master and his 
slave ; for all these are benefited by the users. But 
there is no friendship nor justice towards inani- 
mate things, neither is there towards a horse or an 
ox, nor towards a slave, so &r forth as he is a slave ; 
for there is nothing in common ; since a slave is an 
animated tool, and a tool is an inanimate slave. 
7. So far forth, therefore, as he is a slave, there is 
no friendship towards him, but only so far forth 
as he is a man ; for it is thought that there is 
some sort of justice between every man, and every 
one who is able to participate in a law and a con- 
tract ; and therefore that there is some sort of 
In demo- friendship so far forth as he is a man. Hence friend- 

^ft*^V* ^A ®^P *°*^ *^® J^^* exist but to a small extent in 
°^ ' despotic governments ; but in democracies they are 
found to a considerable extent ; for there are many 
things in common to those who are equal 


Of the friendship which subsists between compamonM Mnd 
relations and the members qf a family, 

1. TiiE essence, therefore, of every friendship is con» 
munity, as has been said already ; but one mighty 
perhaps, make an e3?>D':)tion In the case of thai 



MAP. xi;.] ETHICS. 22h 

between relations and of that between ccanpauiauB. 
The fnuudshipa betweea citizens and feIlow>tribes- 
men, and fellow-sulora, and aiioh like, more resemble 
thoBO which depend upon community ; for they 
seem as it were to exist in accordance with some 
jigreement. Amongst these also one might clnsEify 
the friendship of hoapitahty. That idso between 
relations seems to have many forms, and to depend 
entirely upon the paternal friendship. Parents love 3. 
their children as being a part of themselTca ; cliil- The low e' 
dren love their parents as being themselves some- P"'^'"'e. 
thing whioli owes its existence to them. Now, 
Iiarenta know their offipring better than the off- 
spring knows that it eomes from them; and the 
ori^nal cause is more intimately connected mth 
the thing produced, than the thing produced is 
with that which produced it ; for that which pro- 
ceeds from a thing, belongs to the tiling from which 
it proceeded, as a tooth, or hair, or anything what- 
soever, belongs to the possessor of it ; but the origi- 
nal cause does not at all belong to what proceeds 
from it, or, at least, it 'belongs in a less degree. 
On account of its duration, also, the love of parents 3, 
exceeds that of childi'eii ; for the former love them 
as soon as ever they are bom ; but the latter 
love their parents in process of time, when they 
have acquired intelligence or perception : from this, 
also, it is evident why mothers feel gi'eater love 
than fathers. 

Parents then love their children as themselves ; 4. 
for that which proceeds from them, becomes by the 
separation like another self; but children love 
their parents, as being sprung from them. Bro- B, 
thers love one another, owing to their being sprung Of bi». 
fi-om the same parents ; for identity with the "-^"- 
latter produces identity with each other. Whence 
the expressions, " the same blood," " the same 
root," and bo on. They ai-e, thereforCj in some sense 
the same, oven though the individuals are distinct. 
The being educated together, and being of the same 
Bge, greatly contributes to Mendship ; for men like 

tiiOK of tiieir own age, and thoK of tlie 
tor are oompankHui Henee dao tlie fnenHM^^i 
brntben reaeuiUes that of eo>miianinn«L Tlie ILiunl - 
itliip between ooosnui ana omer lenaons is cwjoag u> 
tJie tame canae ; for it is owing to their berngspmi^ 
Brom the same stock ; some are more, othexB leaa 
warmly attached, according as the parent stock is 

6. nearer or farther o£ The friendship whicii dbil- 
iH childrea dren feel towards parents, and men towards gods^ is 
towardi pa- ^ |^ were towards somfithing sood and saperior ; 
r^C''^ (br they have conferredT^ die grea^ltW 
wr6n the fits ; since they are the caose of existence and of 
f<Mii» support, and of edncation when brought into eadsi- 

ence. Such a friendship as this involyes pleasure and 
profit^ more than that between strangers, inasmndi 
OS they live more together. There is contained also in 
the friendship between brothers, all that is in that 
between companions; and more so between the 
good, and in general between those who are alike, 
inasmuch as they are more connected, and love one 
cmothor immediately from their birth ; and inas- 
much as those are more similar in disposition, who 
come from the same stock, and have been nurtured 
together, and educated similarly; and the trial, 
which is the result of time, is here the longest and 
most certain. 

7. The duties of friendship are analogous in all other 
OfhuMbnnd relationships. Between husband and wife, friend- 
.111(1 wife, gjjjp jg thought to exist by nature ; for man is by 

nature a being inclined to Uve in pairs rather than in 
societies, inasmuch as a family is prior in point of 
time and more necessary than a state, and procrea> 
tion is inore common to him, together with animals.*^ 

** Nam quum sit hoc natur& commune animantiam, ut 
habeant libiainem procreandi, prima societas in ipso conjngio 
rtt ; proxima in liberis : deinde una domus, communia omnia. 
— Cic. de Off. I. From this chapter, as well as from what 
Aristotle afterwards says of self-love, we may see how clear an 
idea he entertained of the progressive and gradually expanshre 
nature of human sympathies. Their source he held to be » 
reasonable asif-love, uieir sinti lest and earliest development 
Wi\|uf«l afibction; they next embrace within thor sphoa 


^^■Eo other animals, theret'oi'e, community proceeds 
^Hltlius far only ; but huiaan beings asaodato not unlT 
^Vibr the sake of procreation, but for tte affairs of' 
life ; for the dutiea of husbajid and wife are dietinct 
from the very first, and different. They, thereforOj 
asnat one another, throving into the common stock 
their private resources. For thia reason, also, the 
useful and the pleasant are thought to esiat in thia 
friendship ; it may eJso he formed for Tirtue'a sake, 
if they are good j for there ia a virtue of each, and 

»they may take delight in this. But children are 5, 
thought to be a bond ; and therefore those who have Childrei 
ao (^dren sooner separate ; for children are a '"*!"' "' 
common good to both ; and that which is common '"""°' 
' is a bond of union. But the inquiry how a man 
is to live with his wife, and, in short, s. friend with 
his Mend, is plainly in no respect different from 
the inqidiy, how it is just that they should : for the 
case ia evidently not the aajne between fiienda, 
I u between strangers, companions, and feUow-tm- 
I Tellers. 


are three kinds of friendship, as was I 
I raid at the beginning of the book, and since in each 
l-of them some are frienda on an equality, and otbere 
I are in the relation of superiors to inferiors ; (for 

I [wrenU, children, Iiuidred, and the vhote circle of our dnmea- 
I ^c rehidoDS ; and, etiU citendlng, include all irho sre hbCith 
^«f tbe time conntrj vith unrielves. And wheo we find Ihnt 
Kte considered that even 11 stavB, eo far forth u he is a man, 11 
I fct withoDt the pale of friendtf regards, it is not improbable 
f^^t. Oioagh the men of his age were not cnpable of audi 
I'fiberal philuDthrop;, s(jll tbe philosopher cuuld imagine tha 
■xiateace of a brothetly kiudQeis atid sSectioa wide enough (a 
JHiajiitliriid the whole lociet; of the haman ince, 

« a 

228 ARISTOTLE'S [book tiii; 

the good become friends, and the better become 
iri9nds with the worse : as also do the pleasant, and 
those who are friends for the sake of the uaefbl, 
forming an equality by mutual benefits, although 
they differ :) those who are equal ought to main- 
tain their equality, by equality in their love and 
eyeiything else ; and the uneqiial should be friends, 

2. by one making a return proportionate to the supe- 

i;oinp^nts riority of the other party. Accusations and com- 

arise almost plaints arise in the friendship for the sake of the 


in friend' usefrd, and in that only, or mostly so, as might be 

Aaip Sid TO expected ; for those who are friends for virtue's 
Xpiytrtfioi^. sake, are anxious to benefit each other ; for such is 
the property of virtue and friendship ; and when 
they are struggling for this, there are no com- 
plaints or quarrels; for no one dislikes one who 
loves and benefits him ; but if he is a man of 
refinement, he returns the kindness. And he who 
is superior to the other, since he obtains what he 
wants, cannot complain of his friend ; for each is 
aiming at the good. 

3. Nor do they arise at all in friendships formed 
for the sake of pleasure ; for both parties obtain at 
once what they want, if they take pleasure in 
«iving together; and he would appear ridiculous, 
who complained of another not giving him plea- 
sure, when it is in his power to cease to live with 

4. him. But the friendship for the sake of the usp'. d 
is fruitful in complaints ; for since each makes use 
of the other for his own benefit, they are con- 
stantly wanting the greater share, and think that 
they have less than their due, and complain that 
they do not receive as much as they want, although 
they deserve it ; and those who confer benefits can- 
not assist them as much as the receivers require. 

5. But it seems that, in like manner as the just is 
Friendship twofold (for one kind is unwritten and one accord- 
Sid TO ^g ^ law), so also the friendship for the sake of the 
is'^oS^ld. iiseful, is partly moral and partly legal Now com- 
IjBg^, ' plaint^ arise chiefly when men do not make a return 

Id t'le same kind of friendship which they formed 


I CHAF. Slit.] ETHICS. £t9 

lit first ; now legal friecdsliip ia npon settle 1 terma, 
one kind of it altogether mercenaiy, from aand to 
lutnd J the other kind more liberal, as it allows time, 
Dut it ia still settled by mutual consent what return 
fg to be made ; ia tins kind the obligation ia evi- 
dent, and does not admit of diapute, but it allows a 
friendly delay in the payment ; hence in some 
countriea there are no actions at law allowed in 
these cases, but it is thought that tliose who have 
mode any contract upon the iaith of another, should 
he satisfied with that. 

Moral Mendship is not upon settled terms, hut 6. 
each party gives, or doea anything else to the other MoraL 
as to a friend. But he expects to receive whsit is 
equal, or more, aa if he had not giTen, but lent ; 
and if the contract is not flil£lled on the terms or 
in the manner in which he made it, he will com- 
plsin. This happens because all, or the greatest 
number, wish what is honourable ; but upon deli- 
heration they choose what ia profitable : now it is 
honourable to confer benefits, not with the inten- 
tion of receiving again ; but it is profitable to receive 
benefits. He, therei'ore, who is able, must return 7. 
the value of whut he has received, and that volun- The dntyof 
tarily : for we must not make a man our friend '"^"'™ 
ftgaiuat his will, but we must act aa if we had made ;„, ^ re- 
a mistake at the beginning, and as if we had tum. 
received a kindneaa from one, from whom we 
ought not ; for we have not received it from a 
friend, nor from one who conferred it for the sake 
of friendship : we must therefore repay it, aa mudi 
as if we had received the benefit upon settled I 

terms ; and a man would be ready, if ho had the 
means, to repay the kindness ; and ii' he hud not, 
the giver would not even expect it. So that if he 
is able, he must repay it : but he should consider 
at first by whom he ia benefited, iviid upon what 
terms, in order that he may or not aubmit to the 
obligation on these terms. 

But it admits of a question, whether we ought ?: 
to measure the return by the benefit done to the m^Qretha 

230 ARISTOTLE'S iBOom. yuu 

tiiiie of the rooeiyery and make it aooording to tliat ; or bgr the 
faTour con- kindnefls of him who confers it. For the reoeiveni 
^rred. ^^^ ^^^ ^^y j^^^ received such things from those 
who oonferrod them as were trifling to th^n, and 
which they might have received from others^ thus 
depreciating the &vour : the others, on the contrary; 
say that they were the greatest favours they had to 
b^ow, and fiivours which could not have been re- 
ceived from any others, and that they were conferred 
9, in time of danger, or such like exigencie& Is not^ 
therefore^ the benefit of the receiver the measoze in 
friendship for the sake of the useful? for he is 
the person in want^ and the other assists him, as if 
hereafter to receive an equivalent : the assistance 
therefore is as great as the benefit which, the other 
receives : and consequently he must repay as mnch. 
as the fruit which he has reaped from it^ or more ; 
In friend, for that IS more honourable. But in friendships 
ship di Ape for the sake of virtue there are no complaints ; and 
Tfjvy the (jiie deliberate preference of the conferrer seems to 
o?Secon^ be the measure ; for the essential part of virtue and 
ferrer is the moral character consists in the deliberate pre- 
neasure. ference. 


On the complaints which arise in unequal Jriendships, 

1. Differences also arise in friendships where one 
Complainta party is superior ; for each expects to receive more : 
ISios 0' ^^^ when this takes place, the friendship is dis- 
ivtoovriV' ^^^^^ • ^^^ ^he superior thinks that it is his due to 
have more, because more is assigned to the good 
ruiki ; and in lik • mfumer he thinks so who renders 
the greater assistance ; for they say that an useless 
I)erson should not have an eqtud share^ since it be- 
comes a tax,^ and not friendship^ if the frxdts of the 

" The word here translated '* tax '' is in the original 
XtiTOvpyia, The Xiirovpyiat were public burthems imposed 



031^. iiv.] ETHICS iSt 

friendship are not in proportion to the good officMi 
dono. For they think, that an in pecunifiry part- 
nerships those who contribute more, receive more, 
BO also it ooght to be in iriendship. 

But the needy and the worse character argue 2 
the contrary w<ay ; for they say, that it ia the duty 
of a good friend to assist the needy ; for what ad- 
vantage is there, they say, in being the fiiend of a 
good or powerful man, if we are to reap no advac- 
tage from it 1 Now, the claim of each party seems 
to be right, and it seems that each onght to give 
to each, a gresiter share out of the friendship, hut 
not of the same thing : but the superior shouh? 
receive a greater share of honour, the needy * 
greater share of gain ; for honour is the rewai'd of 
virtue and kindness, and gain is an assistance to 
indigence. The case also is evidently the same in 3. 
political communities ; for he who confers no be- The rate _ 
nefit on the community, ia not honoured ; for that °^"^ ° 
which is public property ia given to the public ' 
bene&ctor, and honour ia puhhc property. Now 
we cannot receive both money and honour from 
the public stock ; for no one suhnutn to a less 
share of everything.^ Consequently to him. who 
is content with less money, the state gives honour ; 
and to him who prefers gifts, money ; for propor- 
tion equalizes and preserves IHendship, us bos Wen 

On these terms, then, must the unequal asso- 4, 
ciate ; and he, who has received benefit as regards A- "d*" 
money or vii'tiie, must make a return in the ahape ^°^° 
of honour, repaying whatever he is able ; for fiiend- am bc- 
ship requires what is possible, not what ia exactly cording to 
due ; this not being poanble in every case, for Wg abilitj, 
instance, in the honours paid to the gods and to 
parents : for no one can ever make an adequate 
i-etura : hut he, who pays attention to them to the 

232 ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [book Tii 

5, extent of his ability, is considered good. Hence 
also it would be thought unlawful for a son to dis- 
own his father, but lawful for a father to disown his 
son : for he that is in debt, ought to pay ; but there 
is nothing which a son can do equivalent to the be- 
nefits receiyed, so that he is always a debtor ; and 
creditors have power to send away their debtors ; 

$. consequently a fether has. At the same time per- 
haps it would be thought that no fisLther w^ould 
separate himself imless the son were excessively 
depraved ; for independently of the natural feeling 
of affection, it is natural to man not to reject the 
assistance which a son might afford ; nevertheless; 
if the son is depraved, ho would avoid assisting 
his &ther, or at least would not be anxious to do 
00. For most men wish to receive benefits, and 
ovoid conferring them, as improfitable. Jet is» 
roach thon soffioo on these matters. 



OfKhal Had are the prtierralicea r)f Friendihip 

Is all caacs of dissimilar' fnendsliip, proportion I. 
equalizes and preserves the fiiendaliip, na has been 9'*>"" 
stated ; for example, in the politicnl friendsliiiw, the ^"^"pj^. ' ' 
,«hovmaker receives a return for his shoes according served b} 
to their value, and the weaver, and every one else. avaXayia. 
in these inatancea a common meaaiU'e is provideil, 
_', money ; everything therefore ia referred to 
this, and is measured hy it. In the friendship of 2. 
love, the lover aometiniea complains, that although Complainti 
he loves exgeedingly, he is not loved in return, "''I ^J*" 
ifhen it may hap|jen that he jiossessea nothing jj„,^_ 
which can be the object of love : and irequently 
the person loved complains, that the other having 
promised eveiything at first, now perfonns nothing. 
Such cases as this occur, when the lover loves the 
beloved object for plenBiire's sake, and the latter 
loves the former for the sake of the useful, and 
these qnalificationa do not exist in both. For as 3. 
the Mendship was formed on these motives, a sepa- 
ration takes place, aa soon as ever they do not obtain 
that for which they loved ; for it was not the per- 
sons that they loved, but something belonging to 
them, which ia not permanent ; and thoretbre the 
firiendshipa are not permanent. But a fiiendship 
founded upon moral charact«r, as it is felt for its 
own sake, continues, as has been stated. 

Differences also arise, when the parties receive 4. 
some other thing than that of which they were de- 
le Gieek avoitotiliat, dissimilar in spedeE, that i>, 
patlia become FrieadB, dcli from a diHerent modie. 

lU AlUSTOTLE'S [book we. 

mrooB ; far it 18 the auoe as gettiiig noddn^ yrbeok 
they do not get what they desned. The case is fifce 
that of him who made promiaes to the harper, and 
the better he performed the more he promiaed ; and 
when in the morning he dainied the performance 
of these promises, he said he had repaid him 
pleasure for pleasore.^ Now if each partj had 
wished this, it wonld have been snfficicffit ; bat if 
the one wishes entertainment, the other gain, and 
the one received what he wished, the other not, 
the exchange cannot be Mr. For eadi fixes his 
mind on that which he ha{^pens to want, and iae 

5. the sake of that will give what he does give. But 
2^^ who is to fix the value 1 the person who fint 

°^' gi^es 1 or he who first receives t for he who gnrea^ 
seems to leave it to the other to fix the vahie : 
which thej say is what Protagoras did ; for when 
he gave any lessons^ he ordered the leajmer to fix 
how much he thought the knowledge was westhy 
and so much he received In such tranaacfeioiM^ 
some persons approve of the principle ^Ijet a 
friend be content with a prom^ed payment.* — ^He& 

6. Op. et DL v. 368. But those who receive the 
money beforehand, and then perform, none of their 
promises^ because they were so extravagant, are 
with justice compkun^ of : £>r they do not folfil 
Ih^ agreements^ And this., perhaps, the So- 
phists are obliged to do. because no one woold 
give a piece \ii s&l\~er tor wluic they know. These, 
tho^^ace^ becMBse they do not per&irm that §oft 
which they leceiv^ pay. are JQStbr ccaii{4aiiied c£ 

WheneTvr there k no agreement na^iie about 
the advice per^onxaed. as ^s been seated, those 
wIm confer a &Tv:';;:r fiv«hr ^y tbe sake of Uie per- 

en whcmihev cQcicT XE« 

« • 



I.] ETHICS. 235 

pUin ; for ii'ieiidsliip whicli in foiuided oa 1 irtae is 
of this Idtid. Tlie return must bo made accordii g Wlien on 
to the deliberate intention ; for it is tliis whidi ffiff^""* 
characterizes a friend and virtue. It seems also that 'tj,^rBturr. 
thuae who have intercourse with one another in muEt be 
phUoBophy must act thus ; for the value of it is not rnrd 
measured by money, and no equivalent price can be -^poaiptf 4 
paid. But perhaps, ai in the case of our duty to the 
yoda and our parents, that which is in our power is 

Wliere the act of giving is not of this kind, 8. 
but for {he sake of something, perhaps it is best 
that a return should be made, which seems to 
both pirties to he proportionate. If this cannot 
\io, it wmild seem not only necessary that lie who 
first receives should settle it, but also just ; for in 
proportion to the beneJit which one received, or to 
the cost at which be would have purchased the 
pleasure, will be the equivalent wliich the other 
ought to receive in return ; for in things bought 
and sold this seems to be done : and in some places 
there are laws &rbidding suits upon vohmtary con- 
tracts ; as if it was right, when we have tinisted any 
one, to settle with him, as we dealt with him ori- 
ginally : for they think that it is more just for bi"' 
to fix the value who was trusted, than for him 
to do ao who tmsted him ; for men do not in 
general put the eame value upon things whi(£ 
they have received, as they did when they were 
wishing to receive them ; for what belongs to us, 
itud what wo give away, seems to each of us to 
1)0 very valuable. But, nevertheless, the return is How tlie 
made with reference to such a standard of value as recd'cr ii 
the receiver would fix : though, perhaps, he ought *", 
not to value it at so much as it seems worth when 
he had got it, but according '.i what ts valiei ft et 
before be a t it. 


236 ARISTOTLE'S faoos n. 


Qfiattt qfRelaiwe Duiiet, 

1. Such questions as the following cause a difficulty;^ 
Of the for instance, whether we ought to perform services 
relative Qf every kind to our father, and obey him in every- 

" '*'• thing ? or whether, when sick, we should obey a 
physician, and choose a general on account of his 
military skill 1 In the same manner must we serve 
a Mend rather than a good man? and must we 
rather repay a favour to a benefactor than give to 
a companion, supposing that we cannot do both ? 

2. To determine all these points accurately is not easy; 
for they contain many and various differences as to 
their being great or small, honourable or necessary. 

We must But that we are not to bestow everything upon the 
be just be- same person needs no proof : and, generally, we must 
eenerous*'^ rather requite kindnesses, thaii give to compa- 
nions, in the same manner as we ought rather to 
pay a debt to a creditor, than give to a companion. 

3. But ][)erhaps this is not always the case : for in- 
st^mce, must a person who has been ransome<I from 
robbers do the same in return to him who ransomed 
liim, whoever he may be 1 or should he repay him 
though he has not been taken prisoner, but demands- 
payment as a debt 1 or should he ransom his &ther 
leather than the other 1 for it would be thought that 
he ought to lansom his father ev^n in preference 
to himself. 

i. As we stated, therefore, in general a debt should 
be repaid : but if a gifb sm'passes a debt in being 
honourable, or necessary, we should defer to this 
consideration ; for sometimes the making a return 
for a favour previously conferred is not even equal; 

e In this chapter, says Michelet, we have the commence- 
ment of those casuistical ethics, to which, first the Stoics, 
" afterwards the Jesuits, and lastly the German philosopheiSt 
Kant and Fichte, were so strongly attached. 




when, for inataiice, the otiier iMcferred it, knowing 
tLa'- the peraon was good : but the latter has tu 
reimyit to one whoiii he thinks wicked. For some- a. 
times a man must not lend in return to hi'm -who 
lent to him ; for the latter, thinking that he should 
be repaid, lent to him being a good man : but he 
camiot hope to be repaid by a wicked man. If, theu, 
the ctrcumstauces are really such a^ I have stated, 
the claim is not equal ; or if they are not so really, 
but the parties think that they are, it would not he 
thought that they acted strangely. Therefore, as 
■e have ii'equently stated, assertions i-especting 
^elings and actions admit of exact deiinition only iu 
Ijroportion to the object-matter. 

Now that we must not perform the same service e. 
to everybody, nay, even not to om' father, in 
'ihe same manner that we do not sacrifice eveiy- 
,hing to Jupiter, is obvious. But since different Vi 
icrrices are due to parents, and brothers, and com- i^ 
pttnione, and benefactors, we must give to each their j' 
and that which is suitable to them. In fact, 
seem to act in this way ; for they invite rela- 
tions to marriagea, since the fcmily to which ehey 
belong is common to them, and consequently acts 
■which have to do with the family : and, for the 
■snme reasou, they think that it is more suitable for 
relations than other persons to meet at funerals. 
And it would seem that we ought to assist our I. 
parents, in preference to all other persons, in sup- 
yoi"ting them ; being, as it were, their debtors ; and 
that it vs more honourable to as^st the authors of 
istence in that respect than ourselves, "We 
should also give honour to our parents, as to the 
gods ; but not every kind of honour ; for we do not 
give the same to father and mother : nor, again, 
do we give a father the honour of the man of science, 
the general, but the honour of a father, and wc 
in the same way in the ease of a mother. We 8, 
eJioutd also ^ve to every old man the honour be- 
iming his age, by rising up in his presence, and 
iviug liim the place of honom-, and such likfl 

m ARISTOTLE'S [aooKiz. 

BMilcBof reqMct To oompanirais and farotihetB we 
thoold give Hberty of iqieech, and a partnenhip in 
• erecytlung we have. To onr rdatuHifl^ and mem- 
hexB of the same tribey and Mkrw-dtiaBoa, and 
eveiy one else, we should ahrays endeaTOcur to 
give what belongs to them, and to conoipaEe the 
daima of each with req)ect to lelationah^ or Tirtae, 
or aoqiiaintance. Now, between relationa the de- 
cision is easy; but between di£Eerent people it is 
more difficnlt : we should not^ however, far tiiat 
reason, give np the attempt^ bat as &r as it is poasi- 
ble distuigoish between them. 




0» ihe eoMei m which Friendghip may or nunf not he. 


^^ Thebe is a difficulty in the question, ^^ether or 
y^°2|||^ no we should dissolve friendship with those who do 
mav be ^^^^ continue the same as they originally were. Is 
diffoWed there, then, in the case of those who became friends 
wfaoi iu on account of the useful or the pleasant^ when they 
icotiTesfau. ^^^ longer possess those qualities, nothing strange in 
dissolving the connection? for they were friends 
only for those qualities, upon the Allure of which it 
2. is natural to cease to feel friendship. But a man 
might fiedrly complain if another, who loved him 
really for the sake of the useful or the pleasant, pre- 
tended that it was on account of his character ; for, 
as we stated at first, most differences in friendships 
arise when the parties are not friends on the ground 
on which they think they are. When, therefore, a 
man is deceived, and has fancied that he was loved 
for his character when the other did not at all act 
as if it was so, he has himself to blame. But when 
he is deceived by the profession of the other, he has 
to complain of the deceiver, and even more so 
than of those who counteifeit money, inasmuch aa 



L Bbap. m.] ETHICS. iSE 

tte orime is Munmitted with regard to an object o' 
greater price. 

But il' he admitB him to hia friendship, as being 8- 
a good man, and then he becomes wicked, or ia '■ * ' 
thought to be ao, most he still love Limi or is thia ^,.|,, 
impossible, ance not everytidng b an object of love, 
hut only the good 1 We are not obliged, then, to 
jire a wicked man, nor ought we ; for we must 
not be lovers of wickedneaa, nor assimilate ourselvea 
to the bad : and it has been stated that like is 
friendly to like.'' Must we, then, immediateiy dis- *■ 
solve the connection J or not with sU, but only with 
those who are incurable on account of their wicked- 
uei4s } and should wo not rather assist those who 
admit of improvement in character thaa in property, 
inasmuch as it is better, and belongs more peculiarly 
to friendship 1 " But, stUL he who dissolves the 
friendship would not be thought to do anything 
extraordinary ; for it was not suoh au one as he, 
that he was a friend to : when, theretbre, he is 
unable to recover the friend bo estranged from him, 
he withdraws.' 

But if the one continues the saiuf, while the other ^i- 

ir oi 

" DUparea eaim moreB diapuria stadia aequoatur, qnoraid 
* "' ' •■ ■ - ■*- ._e oi, iiJlmn aliBm ci 

itoai Improbis, imprabi bonis aoiici esse aan possunt, niai qnod 
tonts eal inter eoa, quanta maxima potest esse, mornm atadio- 
ramque diitantis. — Cic. LieI. xx. 

• Primain dojlda opera eat, nequa amiconmi dtatidia Suit j 
UD tale aliquid eveucHt, ut extincts potius amicilJBa quatti op- 
presHE esse videaatar.— Cic Liel. xii. 

' Compare the Chriidan role: — " If thf brother tregpaas 
•gainat thee, rebulce bin ; and if he repent, forgive him. 
Add if he tre^pau igBioit thee leTea times in a ilay, and 
Hven times iu a day turn again to thee, aayiog, I repent ; thou 
shalt forgiie Mm.'' — Sc. Luke, ivii. 3, i. " Moreover , if 
thy brother shall treapaai agaioat thee, go and tell him hia 
hult twtween thee nnd him alone ; if he shall beir thee, thou 
hnat gained thy brother. But if he nill aoC hear thee, then 
talte with thee one or two more, that in the mouth of two oi 
tiiree witnesses every word may be established. And if be 
dull neglect to hear them, tell it nato the chnrcli : but if he 
neglect to hear the church, let him be nnlo thee as an heathen 
d ■ publican."— St. Matt, iiiii. 15— 17- 

240 ARISTOTLE'S [bookix 

inains the becomes better, and widely different in virtue, must 
S^^th''*' the latter still consider the former as Lis friend? or 
improves. ^ ^^^ ^^^ possible 1 The case is plainest w^hen tbo 
difference becomes very great, as in friendships con- 
tracted from childhood ; for if one continues a child 
in intellect^ and the other becomes a man of the 
highest character, how can they be Mends, when 
they no longer take pleasure in the same things, nor 
sympathize in joy and grief together ? for these feel- 
ings will not exist in them towards each other. Bui 
without these it has been stated that they could not 
be Mends ; for it is impossible that they can HVe 
together : and we have treated of all this already. 
6. Must he, then, feel no otherwise towards hini than 
if he had never been his Mend 1 or ouglit He to 
remember their past intimacy, and just as vre think 
that a man should confer favours on Mends rather 
than on strangers, ought he in like manner to be- 
.stow something upon those who were his Mends for 
the sake of past Mendship, when the separation does 
not take place because of excessive wickedness f 



T^at the Good Man is a Friend to himself, but the Bad Man 
neither to himae\fnor others, 

1. The feelings of Mendship towards Mends, and those 
The fe^el- wbich distinguish the different kinds of Mendshij. 
friendship seem to be derived from the feelings of a man to- 
are derived wards himself ; for a friends is defined as being one 
from the who wishes and does to another the good, or the apjia- 
feelings of rent good, for the other's sake : or, one who wislies 
towards"*" his Mend to exist and to live for that Mend's own 

bimself. g rpjjg qualities which are popularly held to be the develop- 

ments of friendship are beneficence, benevolence, and sym- 
pathy ; these no one but a good maL san entertain towarda 
himself. If, therefore, all feelings of friendship are derived 
from tiie feelings of a man towards himself, none but the good 
can be really friendi. 

■ H<" 

sake, which is the feeling of mothers towards tiejr Vnnom Je- 
children, and of tlioae friends who have come into fini'mm of 
eolliaion. Others define a li'iend, one who passes his " "''^™- 
time with, or chooses the same things, bh another ; 
or, one who Bympathizea in joy and sorrow with 
his friend ; tins latter definition applies mostly to 
the case of mothers. In some one of these ways all 
men define friendship.^ 

Now each of these feelings exists in the good rna,n 2. 
towards himself ; and in all others, so for forth as How the 
they fancy themselves to ho good ; for virtue and ^°?gwS 
the virtuous man seem, as has been stated, to be taworila 
a standard to each ; since he agrees in opinion himself, 
with himself, and desires the same tlunga with a1] 
his soul. Hence, he wishes for himself wliat ia 
good, or what appeal's so, and practises it ; for 
it ia characteristic of the good man to labour for 
what is good, and for his own sake ; for it is 
for the sake of his intellectual part, which is 
thought to constitute each man's self.' Again, he S. 
wishes himself to live and be preserved, snd parti- 
cularly that part by which he thinks : for existence 
is a good to the virtuous man : and each one wishes 
good to himself ; and no one, were he to become 
another person, would wish his former self to possess 
everything ; for the Deity now poBseeses the chief 
good ; but he possesses it because he is what he 
ia. And the tiinking principle — or at lenst that 
rather than any other prindplB — must be taken to 
be each man's self. Again, such a man wishes to 4> 
pass his life with himself ; for he does this pleasantly 
to himself; ance the recollection of the past ia 
pleasant, and the hopes of the fnture are good ; but 
ench recollections and hopes are pleasant. More- 
over, he has abundant subjects for his intellect to 
contemplate. He aiao sympathizes most with him- 4- 
aelf in joys and sorrows ; for the same thing is cou- 

l" Coropnre Arist. RheC. II. : also the utjing of Teicoce, 
" Idem Telle et idem nolle, ea demum Anna eat amicida." 

' Thus Cieera (Somn. Soip. o. 8) writes : " Nee enim to i« 
M. quem forma lata deolaraC ; Bed mens cujusque, ii CM 
iquc ; non en 6san, quE di^to demoDstniri potest." 

E42 iHISTOTLE'S [book [X. 

HlHUtly jiainfui ov pleasant, and not soraetimea one 
tiling and aometimeB imother ; for he is without re- 

^ pentance, if we may an apeak.^ Consequently, from 
the good man having all these feelings towurds 
himself, and feeling towarda his friend ob he doea 
towards himself (for las friend ia another self), 
friendship alao is thouylit to conaiat in aome one of 
these feelinga, and they are thought to be fiiends in 
whom they reside. 

a. Ent as to the question whether there is or is not 
fiiendship towards one's sel^ let it be dismissed for 
the present. But fiiiendtthlp may be thought to 
uxist in this case, inasmuch as it is one in which 
there are two or more of the above-mentioned qua- 
lifications J and becanae excess of friendship aeema 
e that of & man towards himself. The 
o^ however, plainly exist in manv, 
although they are bad men. Do they, then, partake 
of them so far as they are pleasing to themselves, 
and suppose themaelves to bo goodi for aasuredly 
they do not exist, nor even appear to exist, in any 
who are utterly bad and impious; indeed, they 

^ scarcely exist in the bad. at all ; for the bad are at 
variance with themselves ; and they desire one thin^ 
but wish for another, aa for example, the inoonti* 
npnt ; for instead of what seema to them to be good, 

I. they choose the pleasant, which ia hurtfuL Others 
again, from cowardice and indolence, abstain from 
doing what they think best for themselves. As for 
those who have committed many atrocious crimes 
through depravity, they hate and fly from life, and 
destroy themselves. 

The vicious, also, seek for persons with whom they 
may pass their time, and fly irom themaelves : for 
they call to mind many mijileaaant subjects, and 
ezi)ect others of the same kind whea they are by 
themselves ; but when they ai-e vrith othera, they 

impareata this passHge, ' 

that he ihoufd repent." 
I, " Sapientis est pro- 
■e."— Cic. Tqic*. 28. 


I ibrget them ; and amce they posaesB no aminble qiia- 
I Kties, they Lave no friendly feeling towards thcm- 
I selvea. Therefore, such mea do Bot sympathize '•*• 
■with theiaaelves io, joy or hoitow ; for their soul is 
divided, as it were, by faction, and one part from 
.lepi'avity feels pain, because it abstains from aome- 
iliing^ wlule the other part feels pleasure ; and one 
UmwB him this "way, another that, just aa if they 
were dragging him asunder. But though it is im- 
poBsible to feel pain and pleasure at the same time, 
yet after a little time he feels pain fit Itaving been 
pleased, and wishes that these things hod not been 
pleasant to liini ; for bad men are fiill iif repent- 
ance. It is plain, then, that the bad tna.n has no 
friendly disposition even to him sulf, because he has 
in him nothing amiable. I^ then, such a condition 
Hs this is excessively wretched, he should anxiously 
flee from wickedne^ and strive to be good ; for 

»by this means a man may have friendly feelings 
towards himself, and become a friend of another. 


On Good-will. 

GooD-wiLi, resembles friendship, and yet it is not I, 
friendship; for good-will in felt towards those whom ESvoiadit 
we do not know, and without their being aware "^ '^^/'^ri 
it ; but fiiendahip is not : all this has been said 5a„"" . 
before. Nor yet la it afiection ; for good-will has 
no intensity, nor desire : hut both of these accom- 
pany aflection. Affection too is formed by intimacy ; 
but good-will may be sadden ; aa comes to pass in 
the case of antagonists; for we wish them weD, and 
partake in their wishes, but we would not assist 
them at all ; fur, as we have stated, we feel good- 
will suddenly, and our love is superficial. It Beems, i. 
then, to he the beginning of friendship : in the same 
as the pleasure derived from mpM ia tho 

144 AKISrrOTLE'S [book »• 

beginning of love : for no me feels lave, unks 
he is first pleased with personal appearance : but he 
ihat takes pleasure in the personal appearance ur 
not necessarily in love, except he longs for the 
object when absent, and desires its presence. In 

?). the same manner, then, ii is impossible to be Mends 
without good-wilL But those who have it are not 
necessarily friends ; for they only wish good to those 
for whom they have good-will ; but they "would not 
assist them at all, nor take any trouble about 

4. So that one might call it, metaphorically, friendship 
Ckx)dri& in a state of inaddyity ; and say, that when it bai9 
^^^^' continued some time, and arrived at familiarity, it 
becomes friendship, but not that for the sake of the 
useful or the agreeable: for good-will is not pro- 
duced by those motives. For he who has reoeived 
a benefit, returns good-will for what he has received, 
therein acting justly : but he who wishes any one to 
be prosperous, having some hope of profiting by 
his means, appears to be well-disposed, not to that 
other person, but rather to himself; in the same 
manner as he is not a friend, if he pays attention 

5* to him for the sake of some advantage. Upon the 
whole, good-will arises on account of virtue, or some 
goodness, when any one is seen to be honourable, 
or manly, or something of that kind : as we have 
stated is the case with antagonists. 


On Unanimity, 

1. TJkanimitt also seems to be connected with friend- 
Difference ship; hence it is not the same as tmity of opinion ; 
between ^^j, ^j^^ ^^^ exist between persons who are nnac- 
iindTfto. 9'Jainted with each other. Neither do we say, that 
ioiia, they who think the same upon any subject whatever 
are unanimous ; for instance, those who think the 




ity upon prndical t. 


jHiaeabout the lieflvenly bodies ; for tinanimity upon 
Xhese mutters does not belong to friendsMp. But 
we say, that states have tmanimity, when they 
think the same upon questions of expediency, and 
dehberately make the game choice, and execute 
what has been determined ii 

Consequently, men have u 
matters ; and amongst these, upon those which s 
important, and which are of mutual or commoa 
interest; for instance, states are unanimous when 
a!1 agree that the magistrates should be elected, 
or that alliance sliould be made with Sparta, or 
that Httacus should be Ai'chon, when he wished 
it also himself.' But when eaeh party wiahes him- g, 
aelf to be in power, as the two brothers in the 
PhtenissK, they qnarrel ; for this is not unanimity, 
that each f^rty should conceiTe the same idea, 
whatever it may be, but that their conceptions 
should fix upon the same object : for instance, when 
Jjoth the people and the better part agree for on 
«riatacraoy ; for thus all obtain what they desire. 

Unanimity then is plainly pohtical friendship, as *■ 
indeed it is said to be ; for it is upon matters of |*'f"'['™ 
expediency, and those which have a reference to ?-^j5d^ 
life. But such imanimity eidsta between the good ; 
for these are of one mind both with themselves and 
«ach other, being engaged, as we may say, upon the 
3amo subjects ; for the counsels of such men aa 
.these continue fii'm, and do not ebb and flow, like 
the£uripusi°' and they wieh what is just and expe- 
dient ; and this also they desire in common. But it 5. 

' I^ttBCOB, with the onuiininiiB coDsent of tlie repoblic and 
his own also (lor this is rtqnijiiie to constitute jierleol unsni- 
mity), «ns iaCruBted with the guiernmenC for teu feira : 4fter 
i>hii:Si, nlChoDgb the atsle wuhed him to coutiaue in office, he 
lefattd, — Giph, 

" Coinpire Cicero pro Manena, nii. : — '■ Quod fretum, 
qncm Euripum tot motn*. tantru, tarn rsriag habere jintatii 
ogitationea flactunm, qaantu pertorbatioaea et qointoi satUB 
iiabet ratio comitionim." — ilieAtlel, Brewer tilau quota 
iiere, IsaiDb, Ivii. 20: "The Ticked are Uli« tlie troubled lem, 
mhtn it cannot rest." 

S4b ARISTOTLE'S [book iz. 

is impossible for bad men to have unanimity; except 
to a slight extent ; as it is impossible for tliem to 
be Mends, since they are desirons of more than 
their share in what is profitable, but in labours and 
public services they take less. But when each party 
wishes the same things for himself he sesGxhes 
minutely into the qualifications of his neighbour, 
and hinders him, and as they are not watchful for 
the public interest, it is sacrificed. The result, 
therefore, is that they quarrel, using force to one 
another, and not being willing themselves to do 
their duty. 


Thai the Love of Bcnrfaciors is ttrotiger than that qftho9e 


1. BENEFA.CTOBS are thought to love those whom they 
have benefited, more than they who have receiyed 
favours love those who have conferred them ; and 

2. as though this were contrary to what we might 
Beneficence expect, it is made a subject of inquiry. Kow, the 
not an opinion of the generality is, that the one party are 
d^torsmd ^®^*^^ ^^'^ *^® other creditors ; consequently, in 
creditor. ^^® same manner as in the case of debts, the debtors 

'wish their creditors not to live, but those who have 
lent are careful for the health of their debtors ; so 
also they think that those who have conferred 
favours, wish the receivers of them to live, as 
though in that case they would receive them back 
again, while the other party does not care about 
repaying them. 

3. Now, Epicharmus perhaps would say that they 
hold this language, because they look to the bad 
side of human nature : yet still it seems like human 
nature j for the generality are forgetful, and are 
more desirous of receiving than conferring benefits. 
But the real reason it would appear is more natural, 
and the case does not resemble that of lenders ; for 

CKAP. yii.] ETHICS. 247 

they have no fondneas towards the otter jiarty, 
but only a wish for their preservation, for the sake 
of receiving a return. 

Those who have conferred favours, are fond of 4. 
and love those who have received them, even if they ^ty bcne- 
nuither are, nor are likely to be, useful to them : f'^'"™!'"* 
which also ia the casewitli workmen ; for everyone those wlio 
loves his own work, more than he could be loved receiie. 
hy the work, were it to become animated. This 
perhaps ia most the case with poeta ; for they love 
their own poems ahove measm'e, having a parental 
afiection for them. Such then seems to be the case &• 
of bene&ctors ; for he who has i-eceived a kjndness 
ia a work of theirs ; consequently they love him 
more than the work loves the [troducet of it. The 
reason of thia is, that existence is an object of 
choice and love to all; but we exist by energy ;■ for 
wo exist hy living and acting. He then who has 
produced a work, in a certain sense exists by the 
energy ; lience he loves the work, because he lovea 
his own existence. But this is natural ; for the 
work shows by energy that which existed only in 

At the same time, also, the result of the action is t^ 
bonomuble to the benefactor, so that he takes plea- 
sure in the person in whom that exists : but to the 
receiver there is nothing honourable in relation to- 
his benefactor ; but if there is anything, it is .id- 
vantoge : and this is less agreeable, and less on 
object of love. In the caae of a present act, the 
energy ia pleasant ; in that if a future act, the 
hope ; in that of a past act, the memory : but the- 
pleasure resulting from the energy is the greatest, 
and moat an object of love. To the benefeotor, J, 
therefore, the work continues ; for that which is 
honourable, is permanent ; but as regards the re- 
ceiver, the useful soon passea away. The recolleotion 
also of honourable things ia pleasant ; but of useinl 
things, not generally so, or in a less degree. The 
expectation, however, of advantt^ seems to be the 
^onti'ary of this. 

us ARISTOTLE'S lmok a. 

8. I^ie feeling of a£Eection also resembles prodao- 
tion ; but the being loved is like something 
passive ; thosp, iherefore, who are superior in the 
active conferring of a kindness, lov^ and all tlie 
feelings of friendship accompany. AgaJn, all feel 
greater love for what they have acquired with 
labour; as those who have earned their money, 
love it more than those who have inherited it. 
Now, to receive favours seems to be without labour; 
but to confer them is laborious. For this reason 
also mothers are more fond of their children than 
£Ekthers are; 5br the bringing them forth is more 
painful, and they feel more convinced that they are 
their own.>^ The same also would seem peculiarly to 
belong to benefactors. 

Of Sc^.love,'* 

I. It admits of a question whether a man should 

Whether love himself best, or another: for we are apt to 
a man ^ 

■ Thus Earipides, — 

** The pangs of labour are a powerful bond. 

And every mother dotes upon her child." 

Andy again, — 

'* The mother loves her child more than the father ; 
For she knows it is hers, he only thinks so." 

<* The preface to Bbhop Butler's Sermons, as well as the 
first and eleventh sermons, furnish a valuable commentary nn 
the place which a reasonable self-love occupies amongst moral 
duties, its relation to benevolence or the love of others, and 
the difference between it and selfishness, which are often coh- 
fused one with the other. ** Self-love," says Bishop Butler , 
** in its due degree, is as just and morally good, as any 
affection whatever." ** Benevolence is so perfe^y coincident 
with it, that the greatest satisfaction to ourselves dqpends apon 
our having benevolence in a due degree : and self-love is one 
chief security of our right behaviour towards sode^." How 
oonsistent is this view with HIS doctrines, who has made re- 
gird to ourselves the standard by which to measnre our loTe 
to odiers, and has said. ** Thou sbalt love thy neighbour as 




se who love themselvea best , and as if sboaldlan 
Fit were disgraceful, we call them aelfialu The bad himself 
iuxa to do everything for hia own sake, ''^^'' 
and the more ao the more wicked he la. They 
therefore complain of liim^ sa doing nothing without 
reference to liimBelf : but the good man acte Irom Diitinctiaii 
hoEOTimble motives, and the better he is, the more between 
he acta fi:om honnurahie motives, and for his fiiend's P™?" *'"' 
sake ; and he passes over his own interest. But sdf.iove. 
fitcts are at variance witli these remarks, and that 2 
not unreasonably : Ibr it is a common saying, that 
u man should love his greatest friend beat. Now 
he is the best fiieud, who wishes another good 
for that peraon's sake, even if nobody knows it ; 
but this and every other feeling which enters 
into the definition of a friend, exists most of 
all in a man with regard to himself; for we havo 
stated, that from himself proceed all the feelings 
of friendship which he has for others. All the 3. 
proverbs agree in this : such as " one soul : " and 
" the property of fiiends is eommon : " and " friend- 
ship is equality : " and " the knee ia nearer than 
the shin : " foi' all these feelings exist mostly with 
reference to a niau'a self; for he is the best friend 
to himfielf ; and therefore he must love himself' 

But the question is reflsonably asked, which of •• 
these two must wo follow, since both seem worthy 
of credit 1 TerLijis, thon, we should divide and dis- 
tinguish such conclusions as these, and show how 
&r, and in what respect each ia true. Ji, then, we 
can uudentand in what sense each uses the word 
aetf'love, perhaps the point would ho plain. Those, s. 
therefore, who use it aa a reproach, call those men The self- 
fielf-lover8,whopve to themselves the greater share of J""?" '^ 
money, or honour, or bodily pleasures ; for the gene- 
rality of men are graaping after these, and extreniely 
anxious about them, aa if they were the best 
things ; whence, also, they are ohjecti of con- 
tealiou. Those, therefore, who are covetous of khese 
I things, grttify their desires, and, in shoi-t, their 

t»0 ARISTOTLE'S [book n. 

C passiouB, and tbe irrationiil part of the aooL Bat 

the generality are of this kmd : whence, alao^ the 

appellation has arisen, firom the generality; whidi 

are bad. Consequentfy reproach is jnstly cast uptm 

those who are selfish in this sense. Bat that the 

generality are accustomed to call those self-k>ver8, 

who give sach things as these to tliemaelves, is 

The self- quite plain. For if any one is constantly anzioiis 

loTe of a tiiat he himself more than any other person shoold 

good man ^q ^liat is just, or temperate, or anything else in 

^?^^' accordance with virtue, and in short is always fiar 

motiyes. g<^<uuug something honourable for himself^ no one 

would call such a man a self-lover, nor blame hioL 

7. And yet such a character as this woold secan to 
Why the be more than any other a self-lover ; for lie gives 
good man ^o himself what is most honourable, and the 
bafe self- gi*^^^^^ goods, and gratifies the aathoritativB part 
ore. of himself and obeys it in everything. And as 

that part, which has most authority, seems especially 
to constitute the state, and every other system, so 
it constitutes a man ; and therefore he who loves 
this part and gratifies it, is especially a self-lover. 

8. So also a man is called continent or incontinent, 
according as the intellect has authority or not, as if 
this constituted each individual. And men think 
that what they do with reason, they do themselves, 
and voluntarily, more than any other things. That 
this, therefore, especially constitutes the individual, 
is quite plain, and that the good man especially 
loves this. Therefore he must be especially a 
self-lover, after a different manner from the person 
who is reproached for it, and difiering in as great a 
degree, as living in obedience to reason differs firom 
living in obedience to passion, and as desiring the 
honourable differs from desiring what seems to be 

9. Now, all approve of and praise those who are 
Why the particularly earnest about performing honourable 
oaffht'to^ actions : and if all contended for what is honoiir- 
haveself- ^^H ^^^ strove to perform the most honourablo 
lofiB. acta^ there would be to every one generally what ia 


Miglit fttid proper, and to each individijally the 
eateat goods ; at least if virtue is such aa we have 
ribed it. So that the good man must neces- •*■ 
garily he a aelf-lover ; for he wiU he delighted ia 
performing honourable acts himself, and will benefit 
others. But the wicked man ought to be so : for 
he injures both himself and his neighbours, by fol- 
lowiog evil passions. To the wicked man, therefore, 
what he ought to do, and what he docs, are at 
variance ; hut the good man does what he ought to 
do ; for all intellect chooses what is hest for itself; 
and the good man obeys his inteUect. It ia true !'■ 
also of the good man, that lie performs many acts for 
his friends and his country, nay, even if it is his duty 
to die for them ; for he will give up money and 
honours, and, in short, idl the good tilings which 
others contend for, if he can secure to himself that 
■which is honoiirahle. For be woidd prefer being 
pleased for a ahort time exceedingly, than for a long 
time slightly ; and to Uve one year honourably, 
than many years in the ordinary manner ; and to 

^ perform one honourable and great act, rather than 
many small ones. Those who die for their coon- 11 
toy, this perhaps actually befoUs ; they choose 
something highly honourable for themselveB, and 
they would give up money on condition that 
their friends should I'eoeive moi-e of it : for the 
firiend receives the money, and he himself the 

^ honour ; ao he gives tlie greater good to himself. 
.The same rule holds good with respect to honour- 
lable distinctions and offices ; for he gives up all 
"these to his friend ; since tliis is honourable to 
himself and prajseworthy. "With reason, then, he 
is thought to be a good man, for choosing what 
ia honourable in preference to eveiything else. It 
is possible, also, that he may give up the perform- 
ance of these actions to liia fiiend, and that it may 
be more honourahle for him to be the cause of a 
friend's doing a thing, than to do it himself In nil 1^ 
prmseworthy things, therefore, the good man seems 
r to give himself the greater share of what is honour- 

2ft2 ARISTOTLE'S Lbook iz. 

able. In tliis sense, therefore, one onglit to love one*8 
self, as has been stated j but in the way that the 
generality do, one ought not. 


J%ai even the Happy Man will need good friends. 

1* But a question also arises about the happy jnaa, 
whether he will need Mends or no : for it is com- 
monly said that those who are prosperous and inde- 
pendent, do not need Mends, since they have all 
goods already, and therefore that, being indepen- 
Why the dent, they require nothing more ; but that a Mend, 
happy man being another self, provides what a man is unable 
y^^ to provide of himself Hence comes the saying, — 

\^lien fortune gives us good, what need of friends ? 

2. And yet it seems an absurdity to attribute all goods 
to the happy man, and yet not to give him Mends, 
which are thought to be the greatest of all external 
goods. And il it is more the part of a Mend to 
confer than to receive favours, and to do good is 
characteristic of a good man and of virtue, and it is 
more honourable to benefit Mends than strangers, 
the good man wLU want some persons to be bene- 

3. fited. Hence it has also been asked, whether there 
is a greater need of friends in adversity or pros- 
perity : as in adversity we want persons to benefit 
us, so in prosperity we want persons whom we 

4 may benefit. And it is perhaps absurd to make 
the happy man a soKtary being; for no one 
would choose to possess all goods by himself; 
since man is a social being, and formed by nature 
to associate : this, therefore, is the case with the 
happy man ; for he possesses whatever is by nature 
a good. But it is evident that it is better to pasa 
our time with Mends and good men, than with 
strangers and anybody indiscriminately. The happy 
toMH, therefore, wants Mends. 

"Wliat, tbsn, do tte firat-montioned peoplii say, 3. 
.and how &r do they speak truth 1 is it not that '''' 
the generality consider those only to be fiiends 
are useful 1 The happy man will have no tu 
I of auch frieads as these, since he ia in posses- fri 
of all goods ; nor, consequently, of those who 
are friends tar the sake of the pleasant, or only in a 
small degree ; for his life being pleaaant, does not 
require any adventitious pleafiure. But since he Ni 
does not require such frieud.; ai these, he has been '"' 
thought not to require friends at alL This per- 6. 
JmpB ia not true ; for it was stated 8t the begin- 
ning that happiness is a kind of energy : and au 
energy is eyidently produced, not merely possessed, 
like property, And if happiness consists in living bi 
and energizing, and the energy of the good man is fi'i 
good and pleasant in itself, as was stated at the 
beginning ; and if that which peculiarly belongs to 
) is of the number of pleasant things, and we can 
mteraplate others Letter than we can ourselves, and 
actions better than oiir ovm, then the actions 
of good men, when they are their friends, are pleasant 
to the good ; for both possess what is naturally ifl 
pleasant ; and consequently the liappy man will 
want sucji Mrinds aa these, if he deliberately prefers 
to contemplate virtuous actions, and those whfch 
are peculiarly his own. And the actions of the 7 
good man ar@ such, when he is his Mend. But it 
ia thought that the happy man ought to live plea- 
santly. Now, to a solitary person life is burthec- 
i for it is not nasy to energize constantly by 
sel^ but with and in relation to others it ia 
■easy. The energy, therefore, will be more conti- 
■when it ia pleasant in itself, which ought to 
be the case with the happy man ; for the good man, 
60 far forth as he is good, takes delight in actions 
according to '.irtue, and fwls pain at those which 
are according to vie* : just as the musician ia 
pleased with beautiful melodies, but feels piun 
Ht bad ones. And there may be a kind o^' pim^ 

2M ARISTOTLE'S [mwk ». 

tioe of Tiitne finom living inik good lOBa, as 
Theognis say&P 

8. If we examine the question more pbjedoLogicallj, 
The qiie»- it appears probable that the good firiend is by 
f^^A^^' nature aa object of choice to the good man ; foi it 
iiolomiUf . ^^ y^een stated, thikt what is good by nature, is m 

itself good and pleasant to tibe good man. But 
life is defined to consist^ in animaJa, in the £Eu:nlty 
of sensation, and in men, of sensation and intelli- 
genoe ;4 and the &culty is referred to the energy, 

9. and properly consists in the energy.) Ldfe, then, 
seems to be properly the exercise of \aenaation or 
intellect ; and life is one of the things which are 
good and pleasant absolutely ; for it is something 
definite ; and that which is^efinite partakes of 
the nature of the good ;' Kd that i^rhichfis a 
good by nature, is a good also to the good man : 
and therefore it seems to be pleasant to alL 

10. But we must not take a depraved and oorrupt 
life, nor one passed in sorrow ; for such a life as 
tins is indefinite, just as the circumstances belong- 
ing to it are ; which will be more evident in virhat 
is to follow upon the subject of pain. But if life 

Conscious- itself is a good, it is also pleasant ; and this seems 
DXMof ^8- lively ^ ^ tl^g caae ^m jji desiring it, and par- 

i^ut, * tictlarly the good and happy : for to them life is 

11. most eligible, and their life is most happy. Kow; he 

' The verses of Theognis are as follows : — 

** With these eat and drink, with these 
Sit» and please those whose power is great. 
For from the good thoa shalt learn good ; but if with 

the wicked 
Thou minglesty thou wilt lose the intellect thou hast." 

4 The Svvdfiiig (faculties or capacities) of the whole animal 
and vegetahle creation are dpcTrriic}), attrdi^rtici), 6p£icruc]), 
Ktvi^TtK^f StavorjriKfi, Of these the first alone is possessed 
by Tegetables. The first four by brute animals. The whole 
by man. 

' Aristotle is here referring to the Pythagorean theory aa 
let forth in their co-ordinate catalogue of goods (see Book I.), 
in which the dsfinite is classed amongst goods, the indefii&itfl 


tliat fleea, perceives that he sees ; and he that htai^ 
that he hears ; and he that nalks, that he walks ; 
;iiid in every other ca»e, in t]ie some manner, there is 
■ome feculty which perceiyea that we are energizing ; 
so that we perceive that we are perceiving, and 
auderatond that we are understanding. But this ia 
the same aa saying that we perceive or understand 
that we exist ; for existence was defined to be per- 
ceiving, or understanding. Now, to perceive that one IS 
is alive, is of the number of those things wliich are 
pleaaaat in themselves : for life is a good by nature : 
and to perceive the good which ia inherent in one's 
self is pleasant. But life is eligible, and partica- 
larly to the good, because existence is to them good 
and pleasant; for by the consciousness of that 
which is absolutely a good, they are pleased. 

Now, the good man has the same relation to his 13. 
fiiend as he has to himself; for a fiiend is another 
self ; in the same manner, therefore, as to exist one's 
self is eligible to eveiy one, so also is it for one's 
fiiend to exist, ornearlyso. But existence was said 
to be eligible on account of the perception of that 
which is a good ; and such a perception is pleasant 
in itaelf We ought, therefore, to be conscious of the 14. 
existence of our friend; and this would result from Weoufhl 
associating with him, and ahaiing his words and ^'^b™ ' 
thoughts ; for this would seem to be the meaning ^^ig^g ^ 
of the word sodety, when applied to men, and not, onr <riei 
sa in the cose of cattle, the merely feeding in the eiistence. 
nme place.* If, then, existence is in itself eligible 

■ The pbiloBO|ibj of AriBtotla is the exact opposite of tnj- 
thing Hpproichiiig to uceticiBUi. The reUtJon subsisting be- 
tween a man uid his frivnd is the same as that betneen btm 
■ud soother eeiS, Me ii to love hii friend aa hiouelf. The 
cnJojDieata of friendiihip are derived fram as clear a coDBciaiu- 
neea of our frsenil'i exisCence as ne have of our owa. The 
Doaiishiaeat and support of friendship are intercourse, asao. 
ination, communioD. Ctrrj these principles s tittle fur^iei to 
tbdr legitimate conclusion, and to what ituportanC rrautlB da 
Ihey lead I Self-know iedge and the satiefacticn of au appror- 
ing cansdence are the resnlt of self-communion. Friendahip, 
or, to speak more properly, lovu to God, is kept up by that 

^^ inlimite and oiose communion which the Christian la en. 

^B<«(Hinged to bold with iuio. 

ARISTOTLE'S [book n 

to the lii^p7 man, being hj nature something good 
and pleasant, and if the existence of a Mend la 
nearly the same, then a Mend must also be of the 
number of eligible things. But that which is 
eligible to a man, he ought to possess ; or else he 
is deficient in that respect ; he, therefore, that is to 
be happy will need good Mends. 

Haw numy Frtendi a Man ought to Aove. 

1. Must we then make as many persons our Mends as 
How muiy possible % or, as it seems to have been appropriately 
J"2J. u JJ said in the case of hospitality, — 

^▼®» ** Have neither many guests nor none." 

Hesiod, Works and Days, 713. 

So will the rule also apply in the case of Mendship, 
that we should neither be without Mends, nor yet 

2. have too many. The saying would seem to be 
Useful suitable altogether to those who are Mends for the 
mends. g^g ^£ ^j^^ useful : for it is troublesome to make a 

return of favours to a great many, and life is not 
long enough to do it. Consequently, more than 
what are sufficient for each particular kind of life^ 
are superfluous, and an impediment to living well, 

3. and therefore there is no need of them. And 
Pleasant a few Mends for pleasure's sake are enough ; like 
friends. sweetening in our food. But with respect to the 
Virtuous good, should we have as great a number as possible? 
friends. Qj, jg there some limit to number in Mendship, as 

there is in a political community ; for neither can 
there be a political community composed of ten 
])eople, nor is it any longer a political community 
when composed of a hundred thousand : ^ but the 

* This limitation of the number of persons constituting a 
political community may at first appear strange to us, who are 
accustomed to the large and populous communities of modem 
times ; but we must remember how very small was the nuia* 



chaf. I.I ETHICS. 257 

quantity is not ])crliftps somo | irtioiilsr niimljer, 
but onlj- one between certain fixed limits. In the 4 
ens? of fiiendj, therefore, there is ulso some definite 
number ; and perhapa it is the greatest number witli 
wliom one can associate ; for this was thought to lie 
the greatest sign of friendship. But that it iB not 
pos^ble for tlie same person to associate and con- 
tinue in fidendahip with many, is plain. Besides, 
these must also be fiienda to each other, if all 
intend to pass their time with each other ; and 
this is difficult in the caw of a great uiimher. I', 
is also difficult to sympathize in pleaaurea and paina 
with many people ; for it ia likely to happen at the 
snme time, that a man may be rejoicing with one 
fiiend, and grieving with another. 

Perhaps, then, it is as well not to seek to have as ■. 
many fiienda as possible, but only as many as are 
sufficient for society ; for it would seem impossible 
to be a very strong friend to many. Hence, also, 
[it is impossible to be in love with many ; for love 
^ a kind of excess in friendship : and it is felt 
towards one object ; and therefore excess in it can 
only be felt towards a few. So it seems to he in g, 
real fact : for in friendship between companions, 
many do not become friends ; and those friend- 
ehipa which are most celebrated, are between two 
only." Those who have many liiends, and are 
iiuniliar with everybody, are by no one thought to 
lie friends, except in a political sense ;' and these 
are culled men^pleasers. In the above sense, then, 
m mail may be a friend to many, even without being 
K man-pleaser, but really as a good man : but for 

" 'I'liefriendehlps oF Saul sndJonithsn, Dan 
Pjlidea ind OreBtca. and >o forth. 

'Ins palitical (ease, i. e. in [he same sense 
mny be laid ta hive a love for bis coantry. 
polriotiim ii ofa viderand more eitensiTe ki 
■■natter of pertonal at'icbment ; or bused, ai 
^nonal •jiialities. 

l&S AHlSTOTLE'S [imhjk ix. 

tne sake of virhie and the persons tbemaelveS) it ia 
impossible to be a friend to manyj one must be 
content indeed to find a few such. 


Whether Friends are more needed in Proaperiiy or in 


1. Is there greater need of friends in prcBperity o? 
'li5ft?f ^^ adversity 1 for they are songht for m both : since 
bo^ hi ^^® unfortunate want assistance^ and the fortunate 
prosperity want persons to live with and to benefit ;- for they 
and ad- ^ wish to do good. It is more necessary to have 
versity. them in adversity ; whence in adversity there is 
More ne- need of useful friends ; but it is mope honourable 
cessary in to have them in prosperity ; whence also the ]>ros- 
adversity, p^^ius seek for good friends ; since it is more 
noarable in desirable to benefit the good, and to live with them, 
prosperity. Besides, the very i)resence of friends is pleasant 

2. both in prosperity and adversity ; for those who are 
in pain feel relieved when their friends sympathize 
with them. Hence one might ask the question, 
whether they as it were share the burthen j or 
whether perhaps it is not that, but that their pre- 
sence being pleasant, and the idea of sympathy, 
make the pain less. Whether they feel relieved 
from this or any other, cause, let us dismiss firom 
our consideration ; but what we stated is evidently 
the fact. - V' 

5. The presence of friends seems in a manner to 
cause a mixed feeling ; for the fact of seeing friends 
is pleasant, and particularly to one in misfortune, 
and it becomes a kind of assistance, so as to prevent 
pain : since the sight and conversation of a friend 
is able to comfort us, if he has tact ; for he knows the 
charactei: pf his friend, and what things giye him 
pleasure and pain. But to perceive one's fidend 
pam at one's own misfortunes, is painful; 

KTHICS. 2."rJ 

every one arnidB being tlio oaiise of pain to hm 
inds. Tlicrefore, those who are of a mauly t. 
disposition are cautious how they let their friends 
share their pain ; and unless a person is himself 
without sendbilitj, he cannot endure that his friends 
Hhould feel puin on his account : nor does he at sJl 
call in fellow-mourners, because he is not given to 
mourning himself. But women and effeminate men 
delight in having people to mourn with them, anil 
love them as fiieods and partners in affliction. But 
in every case we ought of course to imitate the 

The presence of friends iu prosperity makes us a. 
pass our time pleasantly, and makes us conscious 
that ou: friends are feeling pleasure at our good. 
Therefore, it would seem that we ought to invite Iu pros 
friends to share our prosperity with alacrity j for it is perity le 
an honourable thing to he ready to do good to others : '^""J'' ?^ 
but toshareouradversity,werfiould invite them with ^iiefriendi 
reluctance, for we ought to share our misfortunes as in iidvet- 

little as possible : whence the saying, — aitj relniiU 

It ia enough tlut I mjaelT am uafbttunsCe. 

3 should call tlieni in especially, when they 0. 

fmay render ns gi'eat assistance, with a little trouble. 
"We should perhaps, on the contrary, go to those 
who are in misfortune, without being called in, and 
with alacrity. For it becomes a fnend to confer 
benefits, and particularly upon those who are in 
need, and did not ask it as a right : for in both 
cases it is more honoumhle and pleasant; but to 
, those who are in prosperity, if it ia to co-operato 

^^ with them, wo should go willingly ; for this is the 
^^L nse of H, friend : but ^ it is to enjoy their good 
^^B fortune, we should go relnctantly ; for it is uot 
^^Vhonoui'able to be anxious to receive assistance. 
^^■Sut perhaps wo must guard against appearing im- 
^^■grocious in our refusal; for this sometimes taken 
^^1 place. The presence of friends, then, ia neressary 
^^Kbiider alt circumstances. 



' u 


160 ARISTOTLE'S ETUICS. [.«os ix 

CHAP. xn. 

T%at the moit detirable thing fur fritmda t* Intimacy. 

1. Is it not the case, then, that as the sight of the 
Society the beloved object is most desiiable to lovers, and they 
pnndpal choose that sense rather than the others, as if love 

friendshir. <i®ri'^6<i fr^^^ i* especially its existence and its 
origin, so also society is most desirable to friends ? 
tor friendship is communion. And as '^e feel 
towards ourselves, so do we towards our friends ; 
and with respect to ourselves, the perception of 
existence is desirable ; it is thh same^ therefor^ 

2. with respect to our friends. But the energy of 
friendship consists in society ; so that it is with 
reason that friends are desirous of it. And in 
whatever each thinks that existence consists, or 
on whate ^er account they choose life, in this they 

3. wish to \Skes their time with their friends. Sence, 
some drink together, some dice together, others 
exercise and hunt together, or study philosophy to* 
gether; each passing their time in the occupation 
which they like best of all things in life ; for as 
they wish to live with their friends, they do and 
partake with them those things, by wluch they 

4. think that they can . live in intimacy. Therefore, 
the friendship of bad men becomes depraved : for 
they partake of what is bad, being omstable ; and 
they become depraved, by growing like each other ; 
but the friendship of good men is good, being 

5. mutually increased by intercourse. Besides, men 
The moral are thought to become better by energizing;, and 
advantage -^^ correcting; one another: for they receive an 
ghip. ' impress from each other in whatever they arf 

pleased with : whence it is said, — 

You wiU learn wnat is good from the good. 

Of friendship, therefore, let so much be said. The 
cext thing is to treat of the subject of pleasure. - 




0/ Pleasure.* 

After this, perhaps the next subject for discnsBiou i, 
is pleasure ; for it seems above everything else to Pleasure 
i>e intimately connected with our nature. Hence, ^^^^ ^^ 
we educate the young, steering them^ as it were, by j^g ethical 
pleasure and pain. It seems also to be of the importance 
greatest consequence towards lajdng the foundation t. 
of the moral character, that men should take 
delight in what they ought, and hate what they 
ought ; for these feelings continue throughout life, 
carrying with them great weight and influence 
on the side of virtue and a happy life ; for men 
deliberately choose what is pleasant, and avoid 
what is painful. 

It would seem, then, that we ought by no means 3. 
to pass over such subjects as these ; especially as 
they involve much difference of opinion. For some Erroneous 
say that pleasure is the chief good ; others, on the opinions 
contrary, that it is altogether bad ; some of these concerning 
last, perhaps, from a persuasion that it really is so ; '*• 
others, thmkiiig that it is better in reference to 
human life, to declare pleasure to be among bad 
things, even if it be not so ; because the mass of 
mankind ha\e a propensity to iX^ and are slaves to 

* ** The opinion that pleasnre is the cuiei good had been 
jQuch advanced by the efforts of Democritus, the Sophista, 
Aristippus, and others, and was entertained by many of the 
contemporaries of Aristotle and Plato. The dialogues of tb« 
latter are full of objections to this popular theory : but in none 
are they refuted with more care and labour than in the 
Philebus." — Brewer. To this dialogue the ethical student (9 



[book s. 


&eir pleasures ; and therefora tliat it is right to 

draw them away to the opposite ; by which means 

they would arrive at the mean. But perhaps this 

is not well said ; for arguments about matters of 

feeling and action ai*e less convincing than facts. 

4. When, tlierefoi-e, arguments are at variance with 

0ad coii«- what is evident to the senses, they are despised, and 

qaencet ^^ ^j^^ destruction of the truth also : for if he who 

or such - . X -L J • • -A 1. 

censures pleasure is ever seen to be desinng it, he 

appears to have a leaning towards it, as if aU plea- 
sure were of the same nature ; for to draw nice 
distinctions is not the character of the multitude. ^ 
True statements, therefore, seem not only to be the 
most useful for obtaining knowledge, but also for 
the regulation of life ;for when they agree with 
£Eicts, they are believed. Hence, men exhort those 
who imderstand them' to live according to them. 
Enough, then, of such' matters : let us now ename- 
rate ikte doctiinbs which have been held on the 
subject of pleasure. 


OptmoM held on the subject (^Pleasure, 

1. EuDOXUS ^ thought that pleasure was the chief 
The argu. good, because he sa^ all, both rational and irra- 
EudoKus to *i^°^> seeking it ; and in every case that which is 

^ The slightest incoasistency of conduct is fttal to the 
authority and iafluence of a . iporal teacher. If be warns his 
hearers against pleasure, and is then seen to devote himself to 
the pursuit of pleasure, even of an innocent kind, his argn- 
' ments are ineffectual, And his warnings are unheeded, because 
the mass of mankind are unable to draw nice distinctions, and 
to distinguish between lawful and unlawful pleasures. 

' Eudozus was a native of Cnidus, who flourished about 
OI. c. iiL (B. C. 366). ' He was a disciple of the geometrician 
Arehytas, and subsequently of Plato, by whom he was accom- 
panied in his travels to Egypt. He w^ the author of a work 
on astronomy, which was translated into verse by Aratu». 
See Matthiee's History of Greek and Roman Lit., and Clinton's 
Fasti, p. 366, note (e). 


ea*»,ii.] ETHICS. S» 

AD object of clioice is j^ood, and that wliicb is moiit proTs th>t 
no is the gi latest gooJ ; cousequentlj', he conaidei'ed pl™»"f« 
that the fa.;t of aU having a bias toward* the same ^iJ^.^j.^] 
object proved that object to be the best for all ; pirei 
because each finds wliat is good for himBolf, as he Brgumcni. 
doe* food ; ho argued, therefore, that what is good 
to all, fUid what all aim at, vaa the chief good. 

And hia words wtire beUeved, more from the a. 
excellence of his moral chai-acter than for theii' H'' '''*" 
own sake ; for he had the reputation of being ™"'^'' 
eminently tempwato : it was therefore thought 
that he did not uee dais language as being a fnend 
to pleasure, but that the caae really was go. But 3. 
he conmdored this diwtrine to be no less evident Second 
from considering the ixmtrary of pleasure ; for pain sfp""*"'- 
is in itself an object slimmed by all, and its contrary 
ia, in the same manner, an object chosiin by all ; 
and that is especially an object of ohoiee, which wo Tbird 
choose, not on accounh of anything else ; but plea- argument, 
sure ia contcaaedly of this nature ; for no one asks 
for the «ske of what he is pleased, as though he 
knew that pleasure wan eligible on its own account ; 
n.nd iileasure, if added to any good whatsoever, Fuurili 
riiftkea it more eligible ; for instance, if added to "Bunieut. 
the act of justice or temperance; and good can 
only be increased by the addition of itself 

Tliis argument certainly seems to jnxive it to be 1, 
amongat goods, but not more so than anything else; 
for everything is more eligible when in conjunction 
with another good, than when \ei% alone. By a h. 
^milar argument, indeed, Plato overthrows the idea f'**" .' 
of pleasui-e being the chief good ; because a plea- "q^'J^"'"" 
^nt life is more eUj^ble when joined with {jnidence opinioni ni 
than without ; but if the union of the two is Eudonus. 
better, pleasure ^mply cannot be the chief good ; ■■"' A'"- 
for you can add notlung to the cliief good which '" * 
wiU make it more eligible : and it is plain that 
nothing else can be the chief good, which becomes 
iiiiire eli^ble when joined to any of those things 
which are eligible on their i>wn account. Wlmt 
is there, then, of tliis natui'e in which we can parti- 
cipileT for Hueh is the objcit of our inquiry. Those 6. 

S64 ARISTOTLE'S [booh a 

Objection ^ho insist tliat that is not a good which all aim at, 
to Unt must take care that what they say does not amount 
rented. ^ nothing : for we assert that what all think, must 
really be. And he who tries to overthrow this 
proof will not state any other more convincing; 
for if it had been said that irrational beings only 
sought pleasure, there might be something in the 
objection ; but if rational beings also seek it, how 
can there be anything in what they say 1 Aiid per- 
haps even in the inferior beings there is some 
natural good principle, superior to their general 
instincts, which aims at that good which is pecu- 
liarly suited to them. 
7. Neither does what is said respecting the argu- 
Objection ment from the contrary appear to have any weight : 
to second ^^^ j^. ^ g^^^j ^j^^ although pain be an evil, it does 

edited. ^^^ follow that pleasure is a good; for evil is 
opposed to evil, and both are opposed to that w^hich 
is neither good nor evil ; in which they say what 
is by no means wrong in itself, but they do not 
happen to speak the truth in the case before ns : 
for if both were evils, both must be objects of 
aversion ; or if neither of them were, then neither 
would be ; at least, they would be circimistanced 
alike : but now it is evident that men avoid the one 
as an evil, and choose the other as a good : they 
are therefore opposed in the manner stated. ^^^ 

" The object of this chapter is as follows: — Aristotle is 
quite ready to allow that pleasure is a good, but not that it is 
the greatest good. Whilst, therefore, he is opposing £adoxus> 
who held the latter opinion, he does not disagree with Plato » 
so far as he also is an opponent of Eudoxus, and denies that 
pleasure is the chief good. This, however, does not prevent 
him in the next chapter from objecting to and answering the 
arguments which Plato adduces to prove that pleasure is 
literally not a good, but an absolute evil. That it is an evil, is 
proved by Plato in the following syllogism : — 

Whatever admits of more and less is indefinite- 
Pleasure admits of more and less — 
Therefore pleasure is indefinite. 

Whatever is indefinite is an evil — 
Pleasure is indefinite — 
Therefore. pleasure is an evil. 
Site the avnroixia of the Pythagoreans. 

other Opiniona on tht mijixl qfPleaiHre. 

Nor yet, because pleasure ia not of the class of l- 
qutilitiea, U it for that reason not a good ; for tlie ^'"t"'* 
energies of virtue are not qualities, nor is Iiappi- J^j'tb''' 

3. '^ But it is said that good ia definite, but (uied. 
pleasure indefinite, because it adinita of degrees. 2, 
Now, if this opinion is derived from the act of HicBeoowl 
being pleased^ the same thing will apply to justice 
and the other moral virtues (according to which it 
is evidently allowed that men become of a certtuu 
quality in each several virtue) ; for some men are 
just and brave in a greater degree : it is possible 
idso to perform the acts of justice and temperance 
in a greater or less degree. But if what they say i, 
applies to pleasure abstractedly, there ia reason to 
fear that they do not state the cause, if pleasurei] 
are some unmixed, some mixed. But what reason 
in there why, as health, which is definite, admits of 
degrees, pleasure should not be definite and do so 
likowisfil for there ia not the same symmetriwii 
arrangement in all men, nor in the same persoa 

' The arguments ^le re reruted by Arislalle nwj be IhuB 
briefly Btuled : — (1.) A.1I gooda ai^ qaalitiee ; pleasure U not a 
quality, therefore jt ia not a girad. (2.) FleasDre aduiits of 
degreci, Ihersfore it ia iodefiiiite : nnir the Pythagoreans jiUceil 
Ibe indeflDite (dopiirrai', ditiiiioy) in their caulngue of evita. 
^3.) All motiossare iinp<^rfect,anil«insequeut1j all generation, 
vihwh i« a «peoiB» of motion, a imperfect. But ■' good" is 
pcrfoet : if, therefore, pleasur- ii a sii-^ait, it ii not a good. 
{4.) The same argaioent applies lo OfDirXq^iuisii;, nhieh ia a 

The falloniog ore Ibe subdivisiotu of tivijait giien in the 
Categonei, c. ij., and quoted b; Chate in the notes 10 hia 

" From not being to being. — Generation. 
Prom being to not being. — Deslniotion. 
Prom being to be^ng more. — laerease. 
Prom bHing to being leas. — Dedreaie. 
Prom being here lu lieitig there. — Change of pl«ee. 
From being in Ibis wujlo being iutLntnuy. — AlteTHliun." 

«66 ARISTOTLE'S l»ook a. 

is tl'.ere alwa/s the same, but although relaxed, still 
health continues up to a certain point, and diiFers* 
in degree. It is possible, then, that the case of 
pleasure may be the same. 

4. Assuming the chief good to be perfect, and motions 
His third, and generations to be imperfect, they attempt to 

prove pleasure to be a motion and a generation. 
But it seems that what they say is not correct, and 
that it is not a motion : for quickness and slowness 
apjKiar to belong to every motion ; if not absolutely, 
as in the motion of tie imiverse, yet relativ^y. 

5. Now, neither of these conditions belongs to pleasure ; 
for it is possible to become pleased quickly, «<» it i«i 
to become angry ; but not to feel pleasure quickly, 
not even relatively ; but it is possible td walk^ or to 

0. grow, and so forth, quickly or slowly. It is possi- 
ble, therefore, to change into a state of pleasui^ 
quickly or slowly ; but to energize according to it 
quickly is not possible (by which expression I mean^ 
" to be* pleased "). 

7. How also can it be a generation ? for it ap^^ears 
His fourth, that not anything is generated from anything ; but 

from whatever it is generated, into that it is dis- 
solved ; and yet that which pleasui^e generates, pain 
destroys. ® And again, it is said that pain is a want 
of that which is according to nature, and that plea- 

8. sure is the supplying of that want. But these are 
bodily affections ; consequently, if pleasure is the 
supplying of that which nature requires, thiat must 
feel the pleasure in which the supply flakes place ; 
that 1% the body must feel it. This does not seem 
to b0 the case ; therefoire, pleasure is not the sup- 
plying of a want ; but when the supply has taken 
place, then a man will feel pleasure ; and wluen the 
supply is cut off, he will feel pain. This opinion 

* Everything which is generated is dissolved into the 
elements out of which it was originally produced. . This pro- 
cess, which is opposite to yevc^ic* is termed <f>9opd^ Pleasure 
cannot therefore be a ykv(9iQ^ because it produces nothing 
which can be dissolved into its original elements. In fact, on 
tne contrary, the sensatioDS which pleasure generate, pain, and 
not pleasure, destroys. 



ai J originated in the painH a 
itiiiected "(nth food : for when men i 

LftTB previoualy felt pain, they feel pleasure at o"i^!!j|i",^" 
liaviug the want supplied. 

This does not happen in all pleasures : for the in. 
pleasures of mathematical studies are ■without pain ; 
and of tlio pleasures of the senses, those ■which come 
by smelling are ao ; and so are sounds, and sights, 
and many recollections alao, and hopes. Of what, 
then, will these he generations 1 for there have been 
;tio wants of anything to be supplied. 

In answer to those who bring forward reprehen- II. 
.alble pleasures, one might say, that these are not The cnse u( 
pleasant ; for we must not think that because they HM^nil^*. 
are pleasant to ill-disposed persona, they are alao5^pJ^^. 
pleasant in themselves, except to these particular pluiiieJ. 
persons ; in the same way as we must not think 
those things wholesome, or sweot, or bitter, which 
are BO to the sick ; nor those white, which appear 
aj to those who suffer from ophthalmia. Or rfiould '2. 
this be said, that pljaaures are eligible, but not 
from these sources ; just as -wealth ia eligible, but 
not to one who gets it by treason ; or health, but not 
to one who gets it by eating all kinds of things I 
Or may it be said that pleasures differ in kind 1 for 13. 
those which proceed from honourable sources differ 
from those which proceed from diagi-aceful ones ; 
and it is imposuble to feel the pleasure of the just 
man without being just, or that of the muacian, 
without being musical : and so on in other cases. 
But the difforeece which exists between a Mend '*■ 
and a flatterer seems to prove either that pleasure Tlio argu- 
ia not a good, or that pleasures are different in tj-uwd by 
kind ; for the former seems to associate ivith a comparison 
view to the good, the latter with a view to plea- lieWEen a 
pure ; and the latter is reproached, but the former ^"V*^ '"'' 
in pnused ; as associating with a different motive. 

Again, no one would choose to live, having the IS- 
h tellect of a cmld all his life long, taking pleasure 
in those things which please children, even if that 
[ileasurs were the highest possible ; nor to take 

2^ ARISTOTLE'S [but** ». 

' delight in doing any thing disgraceful, even if h« 
was never to feel pain for so doing. Besides, we 
should be diligent about many things, even if thej 
brought no pleasui^ ; as about seeing, remembering, 

16. knowing, possessing yii-tuo. But whether pleasures 
are consequent upon these things of necessity or 
no, makes no difference ; for we should choose thens, 

17. even if pleasure did not result from them. Conse- 
Condusion. quently, that pleasure is not the chief gocy.i, noi 

every pleasure eligible, seems to be evident : and 
that some are eligible for their own sakes, diifering 
either in kind, or in the source from whence they 
are derived. Let this, then, be sufficient as to the 
opinions which have been entei-tained upon the 
subject of pleasure and pain. 


What Pleasure i», and that it renders perfect every energy^ 

1. What the genus or species of pleasure is, will be- 
Fleasure come more evident if we resume the subject from 
fisfon *^® beginning. For vision seems to be perfect at any 

period of time ; ^ for it is not in want of anything^ 
which by coming afterwards will make its species 
perfect. But pleasure resembles tliis; for it is a 
whole : and we cannot at any particular time re- 
ceive pleasure, the species of wliich would be per- 

2. fected if it lasted a longer time. Therefore it is 
Why it IS j^Q^ ^ motion ; for every motion takes place in time, 
tion nor a *^^ ^^ some cttd in view ; as, for instuice, the 
generation, motion of building : and it is perfect, when it has 

produced what it aims at ; or in the whole tiui3 of 

3. its being built. 8 But in separate poi-tions of the 

' See Addison^s beautiful paper on the perfection of s'lght^ 
in the Spectator, No. 411. 

f The reading here adopted of this somewhat obscure pas* 
sage is that approved by Michelet, who says, with truth, that 
it is the only reading which conveys any sense. The argumen 
is as follows : — Pleasure is perfect at any moment ; whc reat 

CJ.M-.rv,] ETHICS, 2GS 

^■hoie time, all the motions are imiiei-fect, and dlfiei' TIbm. 
ill apedes from the whole motion, and from one 
another ; for the putting of the stones together is 
ditrereat from tlie fluting of the column, and these 
jigain differ from the building of the whole temple. 
And the hmldiiig of the temple is perfect : because i. 
it w&nts nothing towards the end proposed : but 
the construction of the foundation and the triglyph 
is impoifoct ; for each belongs only to a part, Con- 
si'ijuentlj they differ in species ; and it is not pos- 
-.ible at Miy particular time to take a motion which 
-.a perfect in its species j but if ever we can, it must 
be in the whole time. 

It ia the same in walkijjg, and every other mo- 5. 
lirm. For if m.otion be the moving &om one part Rbcc 
if space to another, there must be also specific 
■Uflerences of motion ; aa flying, walkiag, leaping, 

I and so on. And not only thus, but even in walk- 
ing itself; for the whence and the whither ai'e not 
;the some in the whole stadium, and in part of the 
.Btadium, or in one part of it and the other. Nor ia C. 
it the same thing to cross this line or ttuit ; for a 
person not only crosses a line, but a line in a parti- 
leulai' place ; and this is in a difierent place from 
that. We have treated accurately of motion in 
ftii other place,'' 
It seems, however, not to be perfect in every part T. 
of time, but that the greater number of motions ^"^"pi'ul 
are imperfect and difEerent in species, if the whence "" 
•nd the whither constitute species. But the spe- 
«ipa of pleaajira is perfect at any time whatsoever. 
It is plain, therefore, that pleasure and motion 8. 
must be different tcom each other, and that pleo- 

■iiy motion, I. j/. the act of building, ia imperfect at the ead of 
■ny portioD of dme, and uoC perfect antil the nhole time ot 
building is completeil. Witb reapect to tbe irchitediua. 
tn-ma here used, Ibo tpriirlt i> the bsae (the shoe m it were, in 
French It ne) of the colmnD. 'PaSliavig by some bai been 
undeiBtood to mem the leielHng or erecting the column, by 
others the meuuriug it vith a wand. Its true meaning is th« 
Sating ; in French cannelure. 

' '.n his Physics, BooliB III, and IV. 


270 ARISTOTLE'S [book c 

sQi'e is of the number of things entire and perfect. 
This also would appear from the fact of its. being 
Impossible to move except in time, but we may fee) 
pleasure without reference to time ; for that which 
is felt at any particular moment is something 
9. But from all this it is clear, that it is incorrectly 
said that pleasure is a motion or generation ; foi 
these terms are not applied to everything, but only 
to those things which are divisible and not entire : 
for there is no generation of vision, nor of a point, 
nor of a unit : nor is any one of these a motion or 
generation, nor consequently is there a motion. or 
generation of pleasure ; for it is something entiiSe. 
10.* But since every perception energizes with refe- 
rence to ita object, and that energizes perfectly 
which is well-disposed with reference to the best of 
Pleasure ^^ ^^^ objects which fedl under it (for this more 
accom- than anything else appears to be the nature of a 
panies, and perfect energy ; and whether we say that the per- 
is therefore ception energizes, or that in which the jierception 
fection^of resides, makes no difference : but in everything the. 
every aiff- energy is best of that which is well-diq)osed with 
Ori<ric, ^t«- reference to the best of all the objects which fall 
voia, and under it) : this must be the most perfect and the 
"'*'"* most pleasant : for pleasure is attendant upon 
every sense, a& it is also upon every act of intellect 
and contemplation ; but the most perfect is the 
most pleasant, an^ the most perfect is. the 
energy of that which is well-disposed with reference 
to the best of all the objects which fall, under it. 
Pleasure, therefore, perfects the energy : but plea- 
sure does not perfect it in the same majtiner that 
the object and the perceptive faculty do if they are 
good ; just as health and the physician are not in 
the same manner causes of a person being healthyJ 
12. But that there is a pleasure in every act of the. per* 

^ The physician is what the logicians call the efficient caose, 
whilst health is the formal cause, of oar being healthy. la 
like manner, the object is the efficient cause, pleasure tha 
formal cause. 


BrtAi-- iir.J ETHICS i;i 

«>].itiv8 Ciciilty ia evident : for we .say tliat siglit* 
Aiid soundB aj-s pleoaiuit : and it is alBO cvidoiit 
th-ut tfaia is moat so, when, the pereoyitiye iaculty 
is the beet, and energizes upon the best object, 
When the object perceived, and the faeiilty which 
]>ei-coive8 it, are of this nature, there will always be 
pleiiHure aa long as there are an agent and a patient. 
Again, pleasure makea the energy complete, not n-s 13. 
the inherent habit woulil, but sa some end added Pleasurn 
to it ; it is just what the freahneM of youth is ti) l*'f«;ts ih* 
those in the prime of life. ■a'ii'n inhe"- 

As long, therefore, as the oliject of perception or lent hnlii. 
intellect be such as it ought to be, bs also the bui; as an 
faculty which judges or eontumplates, there will be ""^ adileJ 
pleasure in the energy : for when the patient and ^ ' 
the agent are similar, and correspond ' to euu tiuHous. 
another, the same effect is naturally prodnoetL 
Why, then, is no one ccmtiniHiUy pleased i ia it 
that he becomes iiitigucd t for no human laoulties 
have the power of energiKing'CnntinuaJly, Pleasmv, 
therefore, cannot result, for it follows the ener^'. 

But some things cause delight wlitni they aii; jt, 
new, and for the same rcBAon they do not cause it 
in the same degree aftci'wardB ; for at first the in- 
tellect is awakened, and cnergiiee intensely '>n thtMu, 
as, in the case of sight, those do, who loek stead- 
fastly ; but afterwanla the onorgyianot of the sami; 
kind, but rehuced, and therefore the ])lea.sure also 
becomeB dulled. But one might imagine that all n. 
men seek pleasure, because all are desirouK of life ; q^ men 
and life is a, kind of energy ; and every one ener-from the 
gizes upon and with those things which he loves denre of 
beat ; as, for eicample, the musician, with his heai-- {jf^^j,^ „ 
ing, upon music; the studious man, with his in- [hpr^nrsel 
tellect, upon matters of speculation ; and so on 
with the rest. But pleasure makes the energy 
perfect, and therefore it makes Ufe perfect, which 
men desire. It ia with reason, therefore, that they IS. 
aUo desire pleasure ; lor it makes life, whiuh is 
eligible, perfect to each one. But let the qnestioL, 

hetl er we chotiso Ufe for the sake of plea,sui-e, or 

272 ARISTOTLE'S [book x. 

pleasure for the sake of life, be dismissed for the 
present, for these seem to be intimately counected, 
and not to admit of separation; for without an 
energy pleasure is not produced, and pleasure per* 
fects every energy. 


That Pleasures differ in speeiee, 

1. Hence also pleasures seem to differ in species ; for 

Pleasures we think that things which differ in species are 

differ in made perfect by different things : for such seems to 

Suse^ke^' ^® *^® ^^^"^ vnth natural and artificial productions, 

energies ^ a, and trees, and paintings and statues, 

which they and houses and furniture. And also we think that 

perfect energies, which differ in species, are made perfect 

differ. Yij things which differ in species. But the energies 

of the intellect differ from the energies of the 

senses, and each of these differ from one another in 

species ; consequently the pleasures which perfect 

them difier. 

3. This would also appear from the intimate oon- 

Because of nection subsisting between each pleasiu^ and the 

the con- energy which it perfects; for the appropriate 

tween the" Pleasure contributes to increase the energy ; for 

pleasure persons who energize with pleasure judge of every- 

and the thing and perform everything with a higher degree 

energy q£ accuracy : as those who take pleasure in geo- 
whichit . T_ J. • • J 1° ^i^ 

perfects. nietry become geometricians, and comprehend 

everything more distinctly. So also those who are 
fond of music, or fond of building, and so forth, make 
a progress in their peculiar employment, because 

4. they take pleasure in it. Pleasures, therefore, con- 
tribute to increase the energy ; but what contributes 
to increase must be intimately connected ; and 
things which are intimately connected with objects 
differing in species, must themselves also difEer in 




A g^ itij 'his would appear atiU more jilauily frora s. 
the fact that pleasures ariang from other sources Bccimse- 
we impediments to enersieu ; for those who love? ^"^^ 
music cannot pflj attention to conversation ifsoarces 
they hear any one playing, because they take destroy 
more pleasure in music than in the eaergy iu energies, 
whicli they are engaged. The pleasure, theret'oi-e, 
which is attendant upon music, destroys the energj- 
whicli was employed in conversation. It ia the 6 
same in every other caae, when a man ia employed 
upon two subjects at once : for the pleasantei* 
energy drives out the other; and if there is u 
i;i*eat difference as to the pleasiu'e, so much the 
more, bo that ho cannot energize at all upon the 
other, Wben, therefore, we take very great delight 7. 
in anything, we cannot do anything else at all ; 
and it is only wlien we are but moderately pleased 
with one thing, that we employ ourselves in aiiotlier ; 
just as persona who eat sweetmeats in the theatre 
do BO most when the actors are bad. But since the 
pleasure properly belonging to them makes the 
energies accurate, and more lasting, and better, hut 
the pleasures arising from anything else spoil them, 
it ia evident that they are very distinct. For plea^ Oppositr 
sures arising fi'om Bomething else produce neai-Iy |ileu*iir»a 
the same effect aa pains arifling from the thing ^. 
itself ; for energies are destroyed by the pains 
which belong to them ; for instance, if writing iir 
reaaoniRg is unpleasant and painfLd to any one, he 
does not write or reason, because the energy is 
painful The contrary effect, tlierefore, is produceil 8. 
on energiea by the pleaaurea and pains which pro- 
perly belong to them : but those pi-operly belong to 
the energy, which follow upon it independently of 
knything else, It has been said also, that pleasures 
arising ^om other objects produce nearly the same 
effect aa pain ; for they destroy the energy, but nut 
in the same way. 

But since energies differ in goodness or badness. 9- 
and some are to be chosen, some to be avoided, add j-^*'.'*' 
Whers neither, the ]:leasurea also are related in the mx.jn.-^ 

274 ARISTOTLE'S [book x. 

^^ ^3^1 . same way ; for there is a pleasoi^e jwopeily belongmg 

fi«M#. to every energy. That, therefore, wbick' i# propte 

to the good energy is good, and that which is proper 

to the bad ^lergy is bad ; for the desires of honoiir- 

able things are praiseworthy^ the desires of iliB^ 

10. graoeful ones to be blamed. But the pleasnrefl^ 
which are contained in the energies, more properly 
belong to them than the desires; 'for the latter 
are distinct both as to time and nature ; but ihe 
former follow closely upon the energies, and are so 
inseparable from them, that it is questionable whe^ 
ther the energy is not the same as the pleasure. It 
appears, however, that pleasure is not an operation 
of inteUect or of the senses; for that ivoidd be 
absurd ; but because th^ are not separated,- ithey 
appear to some to be identical 

11. As, therefore, the energies are difiTerent^ so are 
Pleasures the pleasures. Now sight differs from touch in 
differ ia purity, and hearing and smelling differ from tasfce ; 
puritj their pleasures, therefore, differ in the same way ; 

and the pleasures of the intellect differ from, tluffie, 

12. and eadi differs from the other. There seems to 
Pleasares \yQ a pleasure properly belonging to every animal, 
differ in ^ there is to each its proper work ; for it is that 
animaig, which is according to its energy. And if we exa- 
because mine each case separately by itself this would seem 
their ener- to be the case : for the pleasures of a horse, of a 
gies oiner. ^^^^ ^j^^ ^£ ^ j^^j^ differ : as iQEeraclitus says, thai 

an ass would prefer litter to gold; for food ia 

13. pleasanter than gold to asses. The pleasures, there- 
fore, of things which differ in kind are different 
also ; but it is reasonable to expect that the plea- 
sures of the same things should not differ. But 
they differ in no slight degree, at least in the case 
of men; for the same things give pain to some, 
and pleasure to others ; and to some they are pain- 
ful and objects of hate, to others pleasant and 
objects of love. The case is also the same in sweet 
things ; for the same things are not thought sweet 
by a man in a fever, and a man in health ; nor ii: 
the same thing thought wainn by an invalid and bv 




A man in a gDod state of body : tbe same also, la tlie 
case wjtli everything else. But in. all suoU in- 
atances, that is thought to be the truth wliicU 
appears Bo to the good man. 

If thia is well auid,, aa it ap[)ea!;8 lo be, and if U 
excellence, and the good man, 30 far forth as Lo ia ''"' 
good, are the measure of . everything : those must "! 
I^e pleasures which appeiir so to him,, and those to 
tMngs pleasant in. whicdi he deUghts. Bub if what m 
is disagreeable to him seems pleasant to any one, it 
is no wonder ; for there are mimy things which de- 
prave and injure men ; but such things are nob 
pJeasanb, except to those men, and to others who 
are* so disj>osed. With respeot to those pleasures IS 
which are confessedly disgraoefiil, it is evident that 
we must not call them pleasures except to the 
depraved, But of those pleasures which seem to 
be good, whab particular one or what kind must 
we say is the pleasure of man } or is not this plain 
from the energies t for pleasures follow upou IJiem. 
Whether, then, there be one or more energies of IB 
the perfect and perfectly happy man, the pleasures 
which perfect them must pi-oj)eFly be said bo be 
the pleasures of man ; and the reat must be so in a 
mJary or even very inferior degree,'^ just as the 

On HajipiKMa. 


Since we have spoken of the virtues, of the differ- I. 
ent kinds of friendaliips, and of pleasures, it remains "^ 
that we should discuss the subject of happiness in "'■''PP'" 
outline, since we assumed thia to be the end of^m^jj' 

' The origiml is iroXXoirrSc. fur which we hare no equita- 
Irnt in Bogliih, We could uie tlie expres^on " lower in an 
iafinilctidul degree;" but ne cannot taj " a malteumal de- 
gree." Tia», however, would exnntlf expctM Che sgiuficat]oii 
or the Greek. 

r 3 

f :ft ARISTOTLE'S [book i» 

human actions. Therefore, if we recapitulate what 
has been said before, the argiunent will be more 

2. We have said that it is not a habit ; for if it 
Happiness were, it might exist in a man who slept throughout 
an energy ^^^ |^^^ living the life of a plant, and suffering 
?r^"e^ the greatest misfortunes. I^ then, this- does not 

3. please us, but if we must rather bring it under 
a kind of energy, as was said before ; and if, of 
energies, some are necessary^ and eligible for the 
sake of something else, others are ehgible for their 
own sakes ; it is plain that we must consider 
happiness as one of those which are eligible for 
their own sakes, and not one of those which are 
eligible for the sake of something else ; for happi- 
ness is in want of nothing, but is self-sufficient, 

4. Now those energies are eligible for their own sakes^ 
from which nothing more is sought for beyond the 
energy. But of this kind, actions done according 
to virtue seem to be : for the pertormance of ho- 
nourable and good acts is amongst things eligible 

Reasons for their own sakes. And of amusements, those 
why happi- are eligible for their own sakes which are plea- 
ness does ^ ^^^^ . J^j. j^^^ ^^ ^^^ choose these for the sake of 

in amuse- ^ anything else : for they are rather injured by them 
Dient. than benefited, since they neglect their persons and 

5. property. But the majority of those who are 
called happy fly to such pastimes as these ; and, 
therefore, those who have a happy turn for such 
pastimes as these are in favour with tyrants ; for 
they make themselves agreeable in those things 
which tvrants desire : and such are the men thev 

ۥ These things are thought to belong to happiness^ 
because those who are in power pass their leisure iii 
them. But such men are perhaps no proof; for 
neither virtue nor intellect consists in having power, 
and from these two good energies proceed ; nor il 

Necessary does not here imply necessary per se (ian<»rj' 
Nothwcndigkeit), but means and mstruments necessary to the 
accomplishment of some end. — Michelet* 


DH*p. V.-] ETHICS. KI 

ihoae^ who have never tasted pui-e md libefAl ple&- 
Bure, fly to bodily pleasures, must we tlierefore 
think tliot these pleasures are more eligible ; for 
children thinfc those thinga which are eatoemed by 
them the best. It is reasonable, therefore, to sup- ; 
pose, that as the things which appear honourable to 
children and men diSer, bo also those which nppear 
60 to the had and the good will d'tier hkewise, and 
therefore, as we have very often said, those things 
are honourable and pleasant which are ao to the 
good man. But to every man that energy is most 
ehgible which is according to his proper habit ; and, 
therefore, to the good man. that is moat eligible 
which is according to virtue. 

Consequently happiness does not consist in S 
amuBoment ; for it is al«urd that the end should 
be amusement ; and that men should toil and suffer 
iuconvenienoe all their life long for the sake of 
amusement ; for we choose evetytliing, as we might 
say, for the sake of something else, except happi- 
ness ; for that is an end. But to be serious and 9. 
to labour for the sake of amusement appears foolish 
and very childish. But to amuse ourselves in order Sajln 
that ■nv may be serious, as Anacharwa siud, seems Anad 
to be right : for amnsement resembles relaxation. 
Belaxation, therefore, is noc tne end, for we have 
recourse to it for the sake of the energy. But the 
happy life seems to be according to viitue J and 
dm is serious, and does not consist in amusement. 
We say also that serious thinp aj'o better than ii). 
those which are ridiculous and joined with amuse- 
ment ; and that the energy of the better part and 
of the better man is moi-e serious ; and the energy 
■of the better man is at once superior, and more 
tending to happiness. Besides, any person what- \i. 
ever, even a slave, may enjoy bodily pleaaures no 
less than the beb-t man ; but no one allows that a 
' slave partakes of happiness except so far as that 
'.Jie pirtakes of life : for happiness does not eonsiat in 
mich modes of passing life, but in cnorgiea accord- 
' '" " to lirtoe, as has been said already. 

tre ARISTOTLE'S [«ik;x «. 


On Contemplattne-Hojipmesf,.- -. > ••' 

1. Ir happiness be, an energy according -to virtue^ it is 
Reasons reasonable to suppose is accoixUng ,ti> t)ie 
'^^^^ U an' l>est vi^-tiie ; and this must be the virtu^ <4^^ 
energy ac- best, part of man. Whether, then, thisbe^ti^fiiart be 
cording to the. intellect, or something elser-^which isithovgltt 
the best naturally to bear rule and to govern, m^d to- possess 
^*'^^.^*'* ideas upon honourable and divine isiubjects^ or 
to^intel- whether it is itself divine, or theanoe^:<Uidii0 tf any 
lectoal property which we possess ; the energy of this pai-t 
virtue. according to its proper virtue n^:(st he- p^r^^iot hap- 
piness : and that this energy is <K>njke9Lplli'tdLve hae 

2. been stated. This also would se^in '>o a^ree with 
It is the what was said before, and with' th^.tr^th : £ar thi» 
noblest. energy is the noblest ; since the? intejlect is the 

noblest thing; within us, and of .subjects of know- 
ledge, tho$e are noblest with which the intell^. is 
conversant. . • / 

The most It is also most continuous ; for we are better 
i!t)iisjUnt. able to contemplate continuously than to do anyr- 

3. thing else continuously. We think also that plea*- 
The plea- g^pg must be united to happiness : but of all the 
*""^*^''** energies according to virtue, that according to wis- 
dom is confessedly the most pleasant : at any rate, 
wisdom seems to contain pleasures worthy of axlmi- 
rationy both in point of purity and stability : and it 
is reasonable to suppose that this mode of life should 
be pleasanter to those who know it than to thcee who 

i . are pnly seeking it. Again, that which is called self- 
sufficiency must be most concerned with oontenv- 
plative happiness ; for both the wise man and the 
just, and aU others, need the necessaries of life ; but 
supposing them to be sufficiently supplied witl> 
such goods, the just man requires persons towards 

6 whom and with whom he may act justly; and iw 
like manner the temperate man, and the brav« 

. vu.] ETHICS. 2r!J 

unci 80 oil with all tlie rest. But the wise 
' in BTi, if even liy himself is able to coatemplate ; 
ftTid the more so the wiBer he is ; perliapa he will 
eoergize better, if he has co-operatora, but neverthe- 6. 
less he is moBt self-sufficient. This would seem also to 
be the only energy which is loved for its own sake ; 
.or it has no result beyond the act of contemplation ; 
lint from tho active enerpea, we gain more or leas 
beyond the performance of the action. 

Happiness seems' also to conaist in leiaurp , for 7. 
we are busy in order that we may have leisure; Itimplie* 
anJ we go to war in otier that we may be at peace. '^''""'^■ 
Now the energies of the active virtues are eKert«d 
in poUtical or mihtary a^rs ; and the actions with 
respect to these are thought to allow of no leisure. 
Cei-tfflinly military actions altogether exclude it; 
lor no one chooses war, nor makes' preparations for 
war for the sake of wai" ; for a man Would be 
I thought perfectly defiled with blood, if he made 
I hia friends enemies in order that there tttight be 
r battles and mftssaerea. Tlie energy of the states- 8 
man is also without leisure ; and besides the actual 
Bdministmtion of the state, the statesman seeks to 
I gain power and honours, or at least happiness for 
[ himself and hia fellow-citizens, different from the 
I happiness of the state, which iv4 are in search of, 
[ dearly as being different. 

I I^ then, of ^ com^s of action which are accord- 9. 
I ing to the virtues, those wliioh have to do with RecBpihh 
I politics and war excel in beauty and greatness ; and "'""' ■ 
[ these have no leisure, and aim at some end, and 
e not chosen for their own sakes ; but tho energy 
of the intellect is thought to be superior in inten- 
sity, because it is contemplative ; and to aim at do 
end beyond itself, and to have a pleasure properly 
belonging to it ; and if this increase' the energy ; 
uid if self-sufficiency, and leisure, and freedom &om 
cai'es (as far as anything huuian can be fi'ee), and 
everything which is attributed to the happy man, 
evidently exist in this energy ; then this must be 
the perfect happiness of man, when it attains the 

280 ARISTOTLE'S [book % 

end of life complete ; for nothing is incomplete ot 

those things which belong to happiness. 

II. But such a life would be bett^ than man ooold 

Such a life attain to ; for he would live thus^ not so fisur forth as 

nearMTto ^® ^ nian, but as there is in him something^ divine." 

the dirine. ^^^ BO &T B3 this divine part surpasses the whole 

compound nature, so fiar does its energy surpass the 

11. energy which is according to all other virtue. I^ 
then, the intellect be divine when compared with 
man, the life also, which is in obedience to that, 
will be divine when compared with human life. 

12. But a man ought not to entertain human thLOUghte^ 
as some would advise, because he is human, nor 
mortal thoughts, because he is mortal :^ but as &r 
as it is possible he should make himself immortal, 
and do everything with a view to living in accord- 
ance with the best principle in him j although it 
be small in size, yet in power and value it is &r 

13* more excellent than alL Besides, this would seem 
to be each man*s '' self,** if it really is the ruling 
and the better part. It would be absurd, there- 
fore, if a man were to choose not his own life, but 

1^- the life of some other thing. And what was said 
before will apply now ; for that which peculiarly 
belongs to each by nature, is best and most pleasant 
to every one ; and consequently to man, the life 
according to intellect is most pleasant, if intellect 
especially constitutes Man. This life, therefore, is 
the most happy. ^ 

" Compare what Cicero says respecting the Stoics (de 
Fin. V. iv.) : ** VitsB autem degendse ratio maxime qoidem illia 
placuit quieta, in contemplatione et cognitione posita remm : 
quae quia deorum erit vitse similiima, sapienti visa est dignis- 
Mnia, atque his de rebus et spiendida est eorum et illiutria 
oratio. ' ' — Brewer, 

" Compare Hor. Od. IV. vii. : — 

*' Immortalia ne spares, monet annus, et almum 
Quce rapit hora dieor." 


I Eur t!iat life whicli is according to the other kind !■ 
I of virtue, occupies tLe second place iu respect to ^^f ■"" 
hapiiineas ; for the energies according to it are be- h[in^[„j;„ 
longing to human nature ; for 'we do what is jnat is gnperini 
and brave, and everything else which is in accord- m moral 
ance ■with the virtoea, one towards another, in our tappmEss, 
dealings and our needs, and in actions and passions 
of every kind, observing what is becoming to each. 
But all these appear to belong to human nature ; 2. 

ome points moral virtue even seems to be the 

consequence of our corporeal nature, and, in many, 

to be intimately connected with the passions. Pru- 3. 

donee also is closely united to mom virtue, and 

moral Tirtiie to prudence ; if the principles of pru- 

I dence ore iu accordance with the moral virtues, and 

[ the oorrectrLeas of the moral virtues in accordance 

I with prudence." But these are knit together with 

I the passions, and must ixilate to the whole compound 

r nature of man ; and the virtues of the compound 

I nature are human ; and therefore the life according 

t to tliem, Eind the happiness according to them, are 

human. But the happiness of the intellect is Bep»- 4 

i-ate ; and let it be enough to have said thus much 

iibout it, since extreme exactness is beyond the 

subject proposed. 

Intellectual happiness also would seem to require 5. 
external good in a small degree, or in a leas degroe •' '* '"'' '■ 
than moral liappiness. For let it be granted that P*"'*""' ^l 
>K>th equally stand in need of the necessaries of life gooj, 
(even though he who is engaged in floolal duties 
" Moral lirtue chooses the right end ; prudence directs lu 
in tbe choice o( the right moaiu to that end ; e«ch is thererore 
Imperfect without the other, and bence the intimue uiil in- 
Mpanlile anion between the two of wUicll Ariitolle bere 

£82 ARISTOTLE'S [book x. 

rmplojs liimself more about the body, and tbings 
of that kind, for there would be some little differ- 
ence), yet with respect to the energies there wiD 
be a great difference ; for the liberal man vnH. want 
money in order to perform liberal acts, and the 
just man will want means to make returns^ for 
wishes are imcertain, and even the unjust pretend 
that they wish to act justly ; the brare man al36 
will want power, if he is to perform anything 
' according to his virtue ; and the temperate man 
will want an opportunity to sho'^ his teifnperance. 
For, otherwise, how will he or any other <^iaracter 
be known. 

6. A question has arisen, whether the deHberate 
preference, or the actions themseli^es, hare the 
greater Influence over virtue, since it consists in 
both : now it is evident that its- perfection must 
veside in both ; but for the perfection of -actions, 
many things are needed ; and the more so, the 

7. greater and nobler the actions are. But the eon- 
templative man reqiures no such things, at*)ett3t, to 
perform his energy ; but "they are, so to speak^ im- 
pediments, at least they are so to his contempla- 
tion. So far forth as he is man, and associates with 
manyj he chooses to perform acts of moral virtue ; 
he will therefore require such tilings in order to 
maintain his character as a man. 

8. That perfect happiness is a kind of contemplative 
It is the energy, might be shown also from the following 
**1? Ji°^*' considerations ; that we suppose the gods to be prc- 
may sup- ^tiiinently blessi^d and happy. But what mond ac- 
pose that tions can we attribute to them ? shall they be jiist 
the gods actions ; or will it not appear ridiculous to represent 
enjoy. them as making bargains, and restoring depofdts, 

'and so forth? Shall \ve, then, attribute tothcin 
couitigeous acts, making them undergo formidable 
things, and meet danger, l)Coa':ise it is honoui*able? 
or libei-al acts ? But to wlium will they give ? and it 
is absurd to suppose that they have iiiouey, or any- 
thing of that soi-t. But if we say that they ai-e 
teinj)crMfe, what would that mean' is not tlie praL^ 




bbsurd, because they have not bad desirta?!' Auu i( lO. 
■we went througli every case, moral nctiooa wotilfl We eannol 
flecni inaignificuut, and unworthy of gods. But yfit ^""'"''^ '" 
all eiipjiose that tliey live, and therefore ener^e ; actiona 
tor we do not imagine that they sleep like Endy 
mion.i To him, therefore, who lives, if we taie 
away moral action, and etill more n^ produclion, 
what is left besides contemplation} So that the 11, 
energy of the Iteity, as ii surpasses all others in Bui oniy 
blessedness, must be contemplative : and thereforo, ff~„'il,';''"" 
of human en«rgies, that which is nearest aUied to 
tiiis must be the happiest. 

A proof of this ^so is, that other animals do not 12. 
[Hirtake of happiness which are deprived altogether 
of such an energy. For to the gods, their whole 
life is blessed ; and to men, as iar as there belongs 
to them some resemblance to such mi energy : but 
no other animal ia happy, because they in no way 
pLrtake of contemplation. As far, therefore^ as 13. 
contemplation extends, so iar does happiness j and ^^ "11™?! 
wlioever have more capacity for contemplation, ^l^^^f 
have more happiness, not accidentally, but in the it. 
ivny of contemjJation itself, for it is of itself valu- 
able. So that happiness must be a kind of content- 

' Iloir mnEh mart philosophies! are the f<illn*ing obterva- 
linnB of Bishop Butkr oa the hsppineas of heaven (Anal. 
l>arl I. c. v.)i— "Noriaonrignoran™. whnt nil! be the em - 
plojment of tliU happy commuulty, iinr our cumspquEnf tgrio- 
rauce, wJiiit pattieular BcMpe or occasion there will hn for tbe 
BiBidW at Teradty, jnBtlte, and ch«ritj, amongst tbe memherg 
of It with regard to escb i-'^er, anj proof that there will be 
no aphere of exercise for loose Tirtoea, Much less, if that 
were possible, is onr ignorance any proof that there will be no 
Occaraon for that frame of mind, or chancter which is formed 
by tiie daily praotice of Ihnse virtnei here, and whiuh is 1 remit 
from it This at least mnat b« owned In general, that, 89 the 
Ipvernmeot mtnblishEd in the nniverae is moral, the charaelnr 
nf virtae and piety muflt, in aoms tiny or other, be (he eonili- 
tion otau happiness, or the quatificatiDn for it." 

* The (tory of Eadvmion is well known. Cioero alludes Ic 
De Finihus. V. ji.: — " Itaque ne si j ueundisfiimis 

Bnbis velimus dari : idque »i accidat, mortis instor pulrmiifl." 

284 ARISTOTLE'S [moox x. 

14. The liappj raan vnH need external prosperity, so 
How far fjjy. forth as he is man ; for human nature is not 
"^j^ sufficient of itself for contemplation ; but the body 
necessary, must be in health, and it must have food and all 

other care and attendance. We must not bowever 
imagine that the person who is to be happy will 
want many and great goods, because we say that 
without external good he can be blessed ; for self- 
sufficiency does not consist in excess, nor does 

15. action. But it is possible to perform honourable 
things without being lord of earth and sea ; for a 
man may be able to act according to virtue with 
moderate means. We may see tliis pl^nly : for 
private individuals are thought to perform good 
acts no less than men in power, but even more so. 
And it is sufficient to have a competence, for the 
life of that man will be happy, who energizes accord- 

16. ing to virtue. Solon also perhaps gave a good 
TTie opi- description of the happy man, when he said, that 
mons of in iiis opinion it was he who was moderately sup- 
Ar!^o? plied with external goods, who had done the mit 
ras. honourable deeds, and lived temperately ; for it is 

l)ossible that men who have moderate possessions 

17. should do what they ought. Anaxagoras also seems 
to liave conceived the happy man to be neither rich 
nor powerful, when he said, that he should not be 
surprised if he was thought absurd by the multi- 
tude ;' for they judge by externals, having a percep* 
tion of such things only. 

18. The opinions of wise men, therefore, seem to 
agree with what has been said ; such statements, 
therefore, carry with them some weight. But we 
judge of truth, in practical matters, from facts and 
from life, for on them the decisive point turns ; and 
we ought to try all that has been said by applying 
it to &<cts and to life ; and if our argiunents agree 

' The meaning of this passage is, that Anaxagoras evidently 
did not think that riches or power constituted happiness ; be- 
cause, he said, that if he was asked who was a happy man, he 
should prohahly point out one whom the world would coiisid«( 
foolish and sbsarcU 




with fects, we may receive tbcm ; but if they aie nt 
■variance, we nmst couaiJer them as mere voriLi. 
Ho also who energizes according to intellect, oud 
pays attention to thut, and has it in the best state, 
is likely to be most beloved by the gods ; for if any 
I'egard is paid to human affairs by the gods, as it is 
thouglit that there is, it is reasopable to suppose 
lliat they would take pleasure in what is the best 
and nearest allied to themselves : but this must be 
the intellect ; and titat they would be kind ia I'e- 
tura to those who love and honour this most, as to 
pei-sons who pay attention to their trienda, and who 
act rightly and honourably. But that all these 
qushties especiaUy belong to the wise man, is quite 
clear ; it Is probable, therefore, that he b at the 
some timo most dear to the gods, and most happy ; 
so that even in tliia way the wise man must be the 
ha])piest man. 



e Theory qT 

If, then, we have spoken at suffieient length of those f- 
niattera, and of the virtues, and also of frienclahip ^^oro^ pre- 
and pleasure, mtist we tliink that our original plan '^''l^*.'"'^ 
is completed ) or is the end in pnictical matters, nnlraj I'hn 
according to the common saying, not the contem- stadant 
plating and knowing all things, but rather the bu been 
practising them 1 If so, it is not sufficient to know r"™'<>'^l' 
the tlieory of virtue, but we must endeavour to to^^iMj. . 
possess and employ it ; or pursue whatever other iherrfoiT 
means there may be of becoming good. Now, if Eduouioi. 
mere treatises were sufficient of themselves to make '"'"''* 
men good, justly " would they have received many ™"^' ' • 
aud great rewanb," as Theoguia saj^ " and it would 

> This ditpUtii tlie conDHling link beiu'ten tlie Ethioand 

•• Tbe pnsEAge to nhicli &ri«tatk lUudcF in ns friltons: — 

ARISTOTLE'S (.bom & 

3. be oar duty'^to provide oux»elves with tkenau' iJBwt 

the tmidiii^ that Ihej aeenLio h&Ytt. power ^a'nzge 

on and to excite joung men of libeial -minHa^ and 

to make a eharacter that is. generons 4Uid' truly Ibud 

of the honourable, easiTj influenced hy virtue ;^ but 

that they have no power to penniade .the saidtitade 

^ 4. to what is virtuous and honourable. /For it is not 

j/ S^v? f"^ *^® nature of the masses to obey a seoise of shame^ 

led ttj tear. ^^^ ^^^ . ^^^ ^ abstain from vicious things because 

it is disgrac^ul, but for fear of pvmishments ; f<»r 
I they live ace(»rding to the dictates of passion, and 
pursue their own peculiar pleasures, and the means 
of gratifying them ; they fly also from* the contruy 
pains ; but of what is honourable and truly pleasant 
they have no idea, inasmuch as they- never had a 

5. taste for them.y' What reasoning, then, can effect a 
Cannot be change in such men as these ? for it is not possiUe, 
reasoned ^j, ^^ j^g^^ j^^^ ^^^^ ^^ o^ter what has be^ for a 

long time impressed upon, the moral character ; but 
it is perhaps a great thing, if* when everything is 
present by which we are thought to become good, 
we can partake of virtue. 

6. But it is thought that men become good^ some 
Ways of by nature , others by practic e, others by t^tehing . 
becoming Now it is plain that whatever belongs to nature is 
•^* not in our own power, but exists by some divine 

causes in those who are truly fortunate. But rea- 
soning and teaching, it is to be feared, will not 
avail in every case, but the mind of the hearer nmst 
be previously cultivated by habits to feel pleasure 
and aversion properly, just as the soil must, which 
nourishes the seed. For he who lives in obedience 
to passion, would not listen to reasoning which 
tiulis him from it ; nay, more, he would not under« 
stand it. And how is it pos^ble to change the 

7. convictions of such a man as this ? On the whole, 
it appears that passion does not submit to reasoning, 
but to force. There must, therefore, previously exist 

*' If to the sons of ^sculapius had been given 
To cure the vices and bad hearts of men, 
Many end great would their rewards have been» * 



B cliai-ttcU-r in some wit; commuted vritli virtuo, 
loving wliat b honourably and bating wlmt is dis- 
graceful.' But to meet with riglit education in the S. 
[lath of viilne from rfiiid^od ia iiflicult, unless one Eduiatiie 
is brought up under BucbBhK|(! for to livo tempo- "'^' ^ , 
i-ately and patiently is not pleasant to the majority, !„„_ 
and especiiUly to the young. Therefore, eduisitioit 
and instilutionH ought to be regulated by law ; ibi' 
they will not be pajiifiil when they lia\'e becomo 

Fei'Laps it is not sufficient that we should meet u 
with good education and attention wh«u young ; ^' 
but since when we arrive at manhood we ought ": 
also to study and practise what wo have Jcamt, we ^ 
should require laws also for thia purpose; in short, m 
we should want laws relating to the whole of life ; *• 
for the maiises are obedient to oompuLiiDU rather '^^ 
than to reason, and to punishments rather than to 
t^e principle of honour. Therefore, some think it 
that Ic^slators ought to exhort to virtue, and to 
urge men on by appealing to the piiiioiple of 
honour, ainue those who are good in their practice 
will obey when they are ledj but to impow cha&- 
tisomeuts and punishments on those who are dis- 
obedient and naturally indisposed to virtue, and to 
banish altogether the incurable ; because he who is 
good, and hvcs with regard to the principle of 
honour, wiU obey reason ; but the bad man dedres 
pleasure, and is connected by pain, like a beaat of 

■ In IhB original, taTOriix'lioc, from inirix<a- Hence the 
sigoificBtion of the vord it, eo dispoeeil as to be reEtrsitied or 
kept in check bj TirtuouG principlea. 

" It is reiDukable to obsene bow lit(l« practical benefit the 
moral philosophEra of uitiquitj (eem to have felt would be 
drrived from (heir writiuge; what faint motivee they coold 
iirpii to influence Iha gencralitr of mankind. For bow far 
tiinld tlte love of virtue in itself urge men to became virlDOni, 
hLio had no taste for virtue ? Tbe ler^ fact of loving Tirtoe 
trjF virtue'! rake, pre-suppoaea a proficieocy in morali far 
beyond the gcuetil slate of mankind. Some other motive waa 
llien clearly necesur; for mm tank in vice ai the heatbea 
world, a powerful nioiivi-, wliidi no heathen, no human phUoa 
•opby. could euj.plj. 



saying, that 
most opposctl to 

11. bm-then. Tterefore, it it i 

the paius ought to be such 

tie pleaaures whicL are love 

\2. Now, then, as has been Boid, he that is to be a good 

R«etpttu- man must have been educated well, and have been 

[inpn. made to form good habits, and thus continue to 

live under good institutions, and never practi 

what ie bad, either involuntarily orvoluntarilyj anif 

this is to be done by hving 

intelligent principle, and some right regulation. 

■which baa the power of enforcing its decreea Bui 

the paternal authority haa no strength, nor com- 

pulaory force ; nor, in short, the authority of ani, 

one man, unless he is a king, or some one of tba; 

sort ; but the law does possess a compilsory powei: 

since it is reason proceeding from ft eerfetin pni- 

dence and intelligence ; and besides, men hatp 

those iiidividufils who oppose their appetites, even 

if they do it rightly ; but the law is not odiona 

13. when it prescribes what is good. In the city ot, 

The ex- Lacedtemou alone, with a few others, the legislator 

^ple of Beema to have paid attention to education and. inati- 

^" ■ tutions; whilst in moat states such matters havo 

been negleoted, and each lives as he pleases, like 

the Cyclops, 

AdmioiBteriiig the law for Mb childreQ and wife.' 

_ H. It would therefore behest that the state should 

attention to education, and on right principles, 
that it should have power to enforce it : but if 
neglected ae a public measure, it would seem to be 
the duty of eveiy individual to contribute to th» 
virtue of bis children and friends, or at least to 
toabe this his deliberabs purpose. 
*■ From what has been said, it would seem that would be best able to do this if he made him- 
self fit for legislation ; for pubhc systems of edoca- 

* ■' Each rules his race, bis neighbour not hii care ; 
Heedless of others, lo bis own setere." 

Pope, Horn. Od. ii. 
So also JuTenal (Sat. liv.) deicribcs a donmlie tyrHiit 
" Aotiphnles trppidi laria, ac Poiyphemua." 

the duty of 


I ««*>■. u.] 
don are evidtntlj" made by the laws j and those are 
good which are made by good laws. But whether 
these laws be written or unwritten would seem tc 
make no difference ; nor whether they are those by 
wHch one or many persona ore to be educatod, aa 
it makes no difference in muac, in gyninaatics, and 
other branches of education. For in the same way 11, 
that legal enactmeDtn and customs have authority 
ill states, bo also the worda of a father, and customs, 
Lave authority in private famihea ; and still greater 
authority on account of the relationship, and the 
fcenefits conferred ; for children have a natural affec- 
tion for their parents, and are naturally disposed 
to obey. Moreover, private education differs from ''• 
public ; as ja the case in medicine ; for universally "^'''» •" 
abstinence and rest are good for a man in a fever j education 
but to a particular individual perhaps they are not; compared, 
and the pu^liat perhaps does not use the same style 
of fighting ^vith alL It would seem, therefore, that 18. 
the case of the individual might be studied with 
greater accuracy, if the education was private ; for 
tiien each is more likely to meet with what smza 
him. But still a physician, or a gymnastic master, 
or any other master, would take the best cai-e of the 
individual, if he knew the general rule, namely, 
what is good for all men, or for all of a certwi 
cLisa ; for tho sciences are said, and with tmth, to 
have to do with general mlea. 

Nevertheless, perhaps, there is nothing to hinder '9. 
one from taking good care of an individual, even if 
one has no scientific knowledge, but only accurately 
esaminea by experience what happens to each 
individual ; aa some physiciana seem to be the best 
lihyMoiana to themselves, although they are not 
at all able to assist another. Ferhapa it may he 20 
thought that he who wishes to beeome skilled in 
Dr fit to study any subject theoretically, should 
isa have recourae to the univursal, and make 
L liimsctf acquaiutod with it, as far as may be ; for 
[ we have said that the sdencea have to do with the 
P imiversal. And pevhnps he who wis-Vea to muke ''l'>^ »'«^J 

21H) ARISTOTT.K'S [book x. 

don nccca- niea better by edxication, whether maxiy or few, 
gary to an gj^Q^^ endeavour to become fit for the duties of a 
21 legislator, if ib is by laws that we become good. 
For to give a good disposition to any one, and to 
the particidar person intrusted to him^ is not in 
the power of every one, but if of any, it is in the 
power of him who i)ossesses knowledge : as is the 
case in medicine and other arts, in which it is pos- 
sible to study and become -wise. 

22. Should we not, then, after this, ascertain £rom 
what sources, and by what means, a man might 
become fitted for the duties of a legislator^ or^ as in 
other cases, must he learn the sdenee of legislation 
from those who are skilled in politics ? for it was 

How legis- supposed to be a part of political scienoe. Or does 

lation is to the case of political science appear to be di&rent 

be taught, fj^,^ ^j^^ q£ ^j^g other sciences and &umlties ? for 

in the others the same men seem to teach the &- 

culties, and energize upon them ; as, for example, 

23. physicians and painters. Now the. sophists profess 
Professions to teach politics, but not one of them is a practical 
Bophbts pohtician ; statesmen do tliis, who would seem to 

do it in consequence of a kind of facT^tyj^and from 
experience rather than on any mteUectual ^prin- 
ciple : for they do not seem to jviiie_Qr to speak 
upon such subjects (and yet it would perhaps be a 
luore honourable employment than to make forensic 
speeches and public harangues) : nor do they seem 
to make their own sons, or any others of their 

24. fiiends, politicians. But it is reasonable to suppose 
that they would do so if they could ; for they 
could not have left any better legacy to their 
fellow-citizens, nor could thoy liave wished any 
better tiling for themselves than this faculty, nor 
consequently to their best friends. 

25. However, experience seems to contribute not a 
Advantages little j for otherwise men would not become belter 
of expc- politicians by being accustomed to political afiTairs. 
the poli- 1* seems, therefore, that those who are desirous of 
ticiaii. knowledge on political science, need also experience. 

26. I>ut those sophists who profess it, seem to be very 


,r. IX.] ETHICS 29i 

from teacliiiig it : for tliey do not at all know 
titlier what ia its specific nature, nor what ia ita 
objt'ct-inatter ; for else they would not ha,vt 
Asaumed it to bo the same with rhetoric, or even 
worse ; nor would thoy have thought that it is 
ea^ to legislate, merely by maldiig a collection of 
upproved laws, because it is jjoasibie to select the 
best ; as if this selection were not a work requiring 
intelligence ; and as if a correct discrimination 
were not of the utmost importtmce here, just ae it 
is in muaio. For the experienced form a right 27. 
judgment of works in every case, and understand 
by what means, or how they will be accomplished, 
and what sort of things harmonize with each other ; 
but the inexperienced may be contented, if they 
are not ignorant whether the work ia executed well 
or ill, as in the case of painting. Now, laws Bve, 28. 
as it appears, "the works" of political science. 
How then can a nian &om the study of these 
become fit for the duties of a legislator, or select 
the beat 1 for it docs not appear that men become 
physicians from studying prescriptions ; and yet 
the authors endcavo"^ to state not only the cases, 
but also in what manner they may bo cured, 
and the proper mode of treatment, distinguishing 
the symptoms of eacji disease. But these aiv 
tliought useful to the experienced ; but to those 
who have no knowledge upon the subject, useless. 

Perhaps, then, eollectioua of laws and of consti- 29. 
tutions " would be useful to those who are able to '''!* "V 
study the theory, and to decide what is done well, o" uJ,^°^^ 
or the contraiy, or what kind of laws are suitable useful, 
to certain cases ( but to those who go through such 
collections without having formed a habit, the 
power of forming a correct judgment cannot 
belong, except it belongs to them spontaneously; 
but perhaps they might thus become more intelli- 
gent on these subjects. Since, therefore, all former 
writers have passed over without examination the 

" Ariitolle himself wrotf a Ireatise on this subject, whidi ii 

292 ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS. [book x. 

30. siibject of legislation, it wonld perhaps be better 
Since for us to examine it ourselves, and, in short, the 
h*^* beott** '^^ole subject of politics, in order that the philo- 
passed over sophj of human natui-e maj, as feiT as is in our 
by others, power, be completed. First,* then, if anything 
Aristotle. ]iag lyooa^ -^U said by our predecessors on any par- 
writeoTthe ^^^''^^^ point, let us endeavour to explain it : then 
lubject. from a comparison of the different foims of govern- 

31. ment, let us examine what kind of qualities pre- 
serve and destroy commonwealths, and each par- 
ticular form of government, and for what reasons 
some are administered weU, and others the contrary : 
for when these points are considered, we shall 
))erhaps be better able to have a comprehensive 
view of what form of government is best, and how 
each is regulated, and what are its laws and insti- 
tutions. Let us then make a commenceniesf«. 

* Aristotle here prepares the reader f^r the three parts into 
which his Politics is divided. Namely : — (1.) Booki I. 11. 
(2.) III.— VI. (3.) VII. VIII. 






CoTTBAST the ethical system of Aristotle with that of Plato, 
and illustrate your assertions by quotations from his works. 

Define the chief good. 

Of what science does Aristotle consider the chief good to 
be the end ? 

Wliat are the subdivisions of that science ? 

Of how many ethical treatises was Aristotle the author ? 

Name them, and state what you know respecting each. 

Explain fully the terms kvipyeia, epyov, ^vva/jug, e^ig. 

Show that the ends of the cliief arts are superior to those 
of the subordinate arts. 


Show the practical utility of the knowledge of the cliicf 

Prove that the political, i, e. the science of social life, is 
the master science. 

What arts are comprehended under it ? 

Show that Aristotle's doctrine of the subordination of 
elliics to politics harmonizes with the way in which the 

f94 QUESTIONS TO HIE [eook c 

Greeks viewed the relation between an individual and the 


What do you mean by an exact scie: oe ? 

Give instances in illustration. 

Show that neither politics nor ethics are exact scienoeSi 

On what does exactness depend 1 

Distinguish between necessary and contingent matter. 

How are men qualified to judge of subjects ? 

Why is a young man not a fit student-of etHcs ? 

Wliat do you mean by a yoimg man 1 


Wliat is the good aimed at by the political science ? 

What is the name universally given to it 1 

Mention different theories respecting it. 

Which of these is the Platonic theory ? 

Explain fully the difference between analytical and syn- 
tlietical reasoning. 

What is to dh-ect us in the selection of either of these 
t wo methods ] 

Distinguish between empirical and scientific knowledge. 

Wliat pre^'ious education is necessary for the ethical 
student 1 

Quote the j^assage from Hesiod given in this chapter. 


How many theories of happiness does Aristotle enumerate 
ill this chapter 1 

Why does he enumerate so many ? 

Xame them, and show their incorrectness. 

Explain the terms esoteric, exoteric, encyclic, and acroa« 

Give Cicero's definition (de Fin. V. v.), and show its in- 

In what part of tliis treatise does Aristotle consider tho 
contemplative life ? 


Wliy does lie defer it so long 1 

Explain the term ftiatoc. 

Show that wealth cannot be the chief good. 


Explain Plato's doctrine ofthejcia, q / j^ '^} cto 'A^' ^ 

Distinguish between IMa and el^uc, o^M^ CK 

Does Aristotle fully examine the truth or falsehood o^ 
Plato's theory or not 1 

Distinguish between. " idea" and " abstract idea." 

What points in Plato's theory does Aristotle show to he 
inconsistent with the doctrine that " the good" is an idea ? 

Has Aristotle's behaviour to Plato ever been impugned ? 

State what you can in his defence. 

Distinguish between apidfiul u^riTiKoi^ and avfi^XriToL 

Name the ten categories. 

Give an account of Pythagoras and Speusippus. 

What is meant by the (TvfrToi\ia tCjv ayaBCJi' 1 

How is the argument affected by the division of good« 
into two classes ? 

What are those classes 1 Give examples. 

If in different things the definition of their goodness 
differs, how do you account for the common name ? 

After all, what is the principal objection to the ideal 
theory 1 

If the idea existed, would it be practically useful ? 


Explain the meaning of deliberate preference {Trpoaiperri' ). 

"By a different path our argument has arrived at tli€ 
same point." Explain this. 

How many degrees of finality are there ? 

Prove that happiness is final, ''per «e," and self-sufficient. 

Explain self-sufficiency. 

What is the epyov of any species. 

What, therefore, is the epyoy of man ? 

State the successive steps by wiiich Aiistotle builds uf 
Uis definition of happiness. 

Define happiness. 


Jv^plain the meaning of flioQ t£\uoq. 
By what methods are iii^ principles obtained ? 
Explain the meaning of the term induction, taking the 
Rhetoric as your authority. 

CHAP. vnL 

What is Aristotle's object in quoting prevalent opinions 
on the subject of happiness 1 

State those mentioned by him. 

To what philosophers are they to be attributed ? 

To what sect of philosophers is the threefold division of 
g'>ods due ? 

What sect adopted this division 1 

What three qualities are combined in Aristotle's notion ot 
hapj)iness ? 

Quote the Delian inscription. 

How far is external prosperity necessary to happiness ? 


What three questions does Aristotle discuss as to the 
source of happiness ? 

How does he settle that of its being of divine origin I 
Does this illustrate his practical turn of mind ? 
Why does it not come by chance 1 
Prove that it is acquired by training. 
Why cannot brutes be called happy 1 
How far can children be called so ] 


In what sense is the liappiness of the dead consistent 
•;vitli Aristotle's theory 1 

What idea would you form of Aristotle's opinion respect- 
ing the condition of man after death, from this or any other 
part of his works 1 

Quote any passages from ancient authors which embody 
the prevalent views on this subject. 

State the different steps in Aristotle's examination oi 
Solon's saying. 


What conclusion "woidd you draw from tliis chapter geno~ 
rally as to Aristotle's opinion of the relation between happi- 
ness and the accidents of fortune 1 

What is the only scrurce of wretchedness 2 
Explain the expression iKavQg Kt\opr)yr)ixivoQ. 
Distinguish between fiaKopiog and evdaifiuv. 
When we call men happy, with what reservation do we 
do so ? 


What does Aristotle think of the degree in which the 
di-od are aflfected by the good or ill-fortune of the living 1 

Does he think tliat their happiness is increased or 
diminished thereby? 

How does he illustrate his opinion with reference to Greek 
ti-agedy ? 

Quote parallel passages from Horace and Cicero. 


To what dass of things does happiness belong ? 
Can it be a capacity ? 

What are the characteristics of things praised ? 
Can happiness be of the number of these ? 
What objects are beyond praise ? 

What was Eudoxus's opinion ] and how far did it agree 
with that of Aristotle 1 
Who was Eudoxus ? 
Distinguish between praise and encomium. 


Why is it requisite to inquire into the natiu-e of vutue ? 
Why of human virtue ] 

How does this lead to the necessity of an analysis of tlw 
nature of the soul ? 

How far is the investigation to be carried 1 
How many parts are there of the soul ? 
Are these necessarily physdcally divisible ? 
AVhat are they ? 

298 QUESTIONS TO THE [book u. 

What arc the subdivisioiis of the irrational part ? 

With wHch of these is virtue concerned ? 

Whence arises a doubt as to the manner in '^hicli thd 
division should be made t 

Draw out tabular views of the divisions according as you 
adopt one or other principle. 

Compare the Greek word \I'i/x4 with the Latin words 
xniimis and anima. 

How docs the division of the soul lead to a division of 
virtues 1 



How manj V indfl trf Tirfiiirfi flnt Ihi^rf ? 

How is each produced ? 

State the verbal argument of which Aristotle makes use 

Mention any other verbal arguments which he uses. 

Is the use of verbal arguments to be expected fix)m the 
tenor of his philosophy 1 

By how many arguments does he prove that moral virtue 
is not a national gift ? 

State them, and give some of the examples which he 
adduces in illustration. 

Show how his argument bears on the question of education. 


Show from examples the truth of Aristotle's assertion 
that this treatise is eminently practical 

WTiat does he mean by oh ^tupiag eyeKa &(nr£p al ^tXXai 1 

What relation does right reason {opQoQ koyog) bear to 
I'irtue generally 1 

In what part of liis treatise does he enter upon the sub- 
ject of right reason fully ? C '^ ^ 

Why is it more appropriate there than here I 


Why should the discussion of the moral virtues pieced o 
that of the intellectual ? 

Why is it unadvisable to lay down particular rules of 
conduct '? 

Would it interfere with our moral responsibiliiy ? 

Show by example that what is right is destroyed by 
e scess and defect. 

Show how the moral habits, and the means of forming 
them, act reciprocally on each other. 


What are the tests of habits being perfected 1 

Prove that pleasures and pains are the object-matter of 

moral virtue. 

What Stoical doctrine respecting virtue is refuted in this 

chapter ? 


What objection might be brought to Aristotle's theory oi 
the formation of moral habits 1 

State his answers to this objection. 
By denying the fact. 
By denying the parallelism of the cases. 

What is the difference between the arts and the virtues ? 

Distinguish between irpdyfia and irpaliq. 

Show how the one may be right and the other wrong. 

Give examples. 

State the physical analogy by which Aristotle illusti'atca 
the uselessness of mere theorizing. 


Define genus, species, differentia. 

Define and explain iraOri, ^vya/jLeig, £^€tg. 

Prove that neither virtue nor vice can be a irabac* 

Prove that they cannot be IwaneiQ, 

What then is the genus of virtue ? 

What mode of reasoning is adopted in this chaf ter ? 


800 QUESTIONS TO THE [nooK iii. 


WTia: is the signification of the term upin) generally ? 

What as applied to man ) 

How many kinds of means are there 1 

Give examples of each. 

Which is according to arithmetical proportion 1 

How does every one who possesses liritrriifir} act witli 
respect to the mean ? 

Does the rule apply to hoth feelings and actions 1 

From these considerations deduce the differentia of virtue. 

Apply the Pythagoi*ean argument here mentioned to 
ariive at the same conclusion. 

From the previous steps derive the definition of virtue. 

Show how virtue can be both a mean and an extreme. 

What actions and passions are incapable of a mean state ? 


What advantage results from applying general statements 
to particular cases 1 

What does Aristotle allude to when he uses the tenn 
ciaypa(f)t) 1 

Apply the definition of virtue to the following particular 
cases : — 

(1.) Fear and confidence. 
.) Pleasures and pains. 
Giving and receiving. 
Honour and dishonour (great). 
Honour and dishonour (small). 

The social virtues. 
6l) Truth, 
(b.) Relaxation, 
(c.) Friendliness. 
Apply these statements to the cases of feelings, 
(a.) Shame, 
(b.) Indignation. 



Explai/A and illustrate the opposition between the mean 
and the extremes ; and between the extremes with regard 
to each other. 

Show that the mean is not always equi-distant from the 

How many reasons are there for this fact ? 

Blastrate one by the case of courage, and the oth^^r by ths 
case of temperance. 


Why is virtue difficult of acquirement, and excellence 
rare, praiseworthy, and honourable 1 

State the practical rule which Aristotle here gives for 
attaining the mean. 

Quote the iUustrative passage from the Odyssey. 

What practical rule will result from the knowledge of our 
natural propensity ? 

What bias must we especially guard against 1 

Quote the iUustrative passage from the Hiad respeotir^ 

How much must after all be left to the moral sense 1 



Why is it necessary to consider the subject of the voxiui* 
taiy and involimtary ? 

Why is it useful to legislators to do so ? 

How many kinds of involimtary actions are enumerated 
oy Aiistotle f 

What other class is there which he has omitted ? 

Explain and illustrate the meaning of the expression 
• mixed actions." 

992 QUESTIONS TO THE [book in 

Do mixed actions most resemble voluntary or involuntary 
aclions 1 Why is this f 

How many kinds of mixed actions are there 1 

What practical difficulty is there in judging of these 
actions ? 

Show that things pleasant and honourable are not com- 

What does Aristotle mean by non-voluntary actions 1 

What place does repentance occupy in Aristotle's theory 1 

Explain the difference between ayvoCjy and Bi ayyoiav. 

When is ignorance pardonable, and when not ? 

Define to ikovviov* 

Why are actions done through anger or desire voluntary ? 


Explain what is meant by deliberate preference ; show that 
it is the principle of all moral action, and that it determines 
the character of every act. 

What are the erroneous views respecting it mentioned by 
Aristotle ? 

Prove that it is not — 
(1.^ Desire. 
(2.^ Anger. 
'3.^ Volition. 

^4.) Opinion either general or particular. 
Give its real and nominal definitions. 


Define what is the subject of deliberation. 

Enumerate the four things which cannot come "within its 

About what matters then do we deliberate % 

What is meant by the illustration that the diagonal and 
the side of a square are incommensurable 1 

Why do we deliberate about the arts more than about th« 
rciences ? 

Are any arts excluded ? 

What division of the sciences did the Greeks adopt 2 


Which of these divisions may be marie the subjects of 
deliberation ] 

What is the office of deliberation ? 

Are ends or means its matter ? 

Describe the process of deliberation. 

When do we cease to deliberate ? 

Apply the illustration given from Homer. 

Does this remind you of the psychical theory of Plato ? 

Define Trpoalpeaig, 


What is the obgect of volition 1 

What are the difficulties, in the way of determining this 
question 1 

Solve these difficulties. 

Compare the statement made respecting volition in 
Hhet. I. X. 

Mention the physical analogies adduced here by Aristotle. 

How do good and bad men differ on this point ? 

How does pleasure influence volition ? 


State Socrates's opinion respecting the freedom of the 

State the successive steps in the argument by which Aris- 
totle proves that vice is voluntary. 

W^t does the conduct both of legislators and individuals 
prove respecting their opinions on this question ? 

What does Bishop Butler say on this point in his chapter 
on Necessity 1 

Does the way in which ignorance is treated suppniii. 
Aristotle's view ? 

How is drunkenness and ignorance of the law dealt with ? 

WTiat is the effect of wilftd sin on the moral sense 1 

To what conclusion does this effect lead us in judging of 
confirmed habits of vice 1 

State any physical analogies in support of Aristotle's 

Answer the objection "that men have no control over 


their imaginations, and tWefore are not reBponsible for 
their opiniona" 

Answer the objection '^ that the aiming at the end is 
not a matter of choice." 

Show that such arguments prove too much* 

Are acts and habits voluntaiy in the same manner or 


Why does Aristotle discuss courage and temperance iu 
chis part of his treatise ? 

On what subjects is courage a mean state ? 

Has courage reference to evils of all kinds 1 

What kinds are excluded ? 

Why then is a man called brave with reference to these I 

Are there any evils, which it is our duty not to fear, is 
which, nevertheless, a man is not called brave 1 

Are there any which a brave man ought to fear 1 

In what cases then will the brave man show courage ? 

In what kinds of deaths especially ? 

Does Aristotle take notice of moral courage ? 

What does Aristotle say of the courage of sailors ? 


How many divisions are there of ^po^epa ? 

Name them. 

In what ways are faults possible as regards fear and 
confidence ? 

What relation does the end bear to the habit 1 

Define "the brave man." 

What is the brave man's motive ? 

!N^ame tlie excess and defect. 

Desciibe the characters of the rash and the coward. 

Show that the three characters are all convei'sant with 
the same things. 

What is Aristotle's opinion of suicide ? 

Show by examples and quotations how &,r it agi tes or 
disagrees with opinions generally prevalent in Greece. 



Ho\9 many imperfect forms of courage are there ? 

Kame them. 

What are the motives to that which is called woXi; iKt) ? 

Show by examples that this is the courage disj)layed by 
Homer's heroes. 

Why does this kind most nearly resemble genuine coui-agc ] 

Do those who are brave under compidsion belong to tLi.s 

Explain and illustrate the courage which proc©*»d3 ek rye 

What was Socrates's opinion, and how does it bear U| on 
Ids moral theory ? 

What was the affair in the Hermseum to which he alludes > 

Show that by ^vfxog Aristotle means mere animal instinct. 

Why are the sanguine brave 1 

How does the courage of the ignorant resemble that of 
the sanguine ? 

Illustrate any of these forms of courage by instances from 
either poets or historians. 


Show tliat courage has more to do with <l>o€epa than 

Show (1) that it is kiriKvirov, 

Show (2) that it is more difficult to acquire than tern- 

Is a brave man less brave for feeling pain % 

Is he more so for that reason 1 

How for does energizing with pleasure belong to all ih^^ 


To what part of the soul do courage and tem})eranci> 
belong % 

Define temperance and intemperance. 

How many divisions of pleasure does Aristotle make ? 

S06 ^lUESTIONS TO THE L^^k it. 

Give examples of each. 

State the subdivisions of the corporeal pleasures 

With what class of pleasures is temperance conversant * 

Analyze the argument by which Aristotle arrives at this 

How is Aristotle's theory illustrated by the case of brute 

animals 1 

What distinction does Aristotle draw between i;he plea- 

s\ires of touch, and to which does he limit the province of 



State the divisions of ETrtOvfxUu. 

In which of these is error rare, and in which freqaefnt ? 

How far may both these classes of desires be said to be 
uatiii'al 1 

How is the temperate man affected with • regard to 

How "w-ith regard to pains ? 

In this latter respect, distinguish between the temperate 
and the coui*ageous man . 

Why has the vice in the defect with respect to pleasure 
DO name ? 

Describa the character of the temperate man. 


VfTiich is more voluntary, intemperance or cowardice ? 

State the reasons. 

Draw a distinction in both cases between the voluntariness 
of the habit and of the particular acts. 

What analogy is there between aKoXaoia and- the faults cf 

What does Aristotle mean by an obedient and disetpliiicd 
tttate ? 

What rides does he give for attaining this state I 

CB»r. ul NtrOMACHEAN ETHrCS. 3« 



Define liberality. 

Show the correctness of this definition. 
Define property. 

What are the excess and defect of this virtue ? 
Is the term prodigality used in more senses than one 'f 
Is liberality shown more in giving or in receiving 1 
Accoimt for tins. 

For what virtue are those who abstain from receiving 
improperly i-ather commended 1 

What is the motive of the liberal man ? 
In what manner will he exercise this virtue ? 
Is the man who gives with pain a liberal man ? 
State some of the characteristics of the libeiul man. 
(1.) In respect to receiving. 
(2.) In respect to giving. 
In relation to what must we judge of a man*s liberality ? 
Illustrate the answer to this question by examples. 
What is Aristotle's opinion of those who make their ovm 
fortunes 1 

Is it easy for a liberal man to do so ? 
Distinguish between the liberal and prodigal man. 
Can monarchs be prodigal ?■ • 
In what cases would the liberal man feel ^min 1 
Why is Simonides used as an illustration of this subject ? 
Defbie and compare together prodigality and illiberality. 
Why are both characteristics of prodigality seldom found 
in the same person ? 

Why is the prodigal man thought better than the 
illiberal ? 

Which does most harm socially, the miser or the spend* 

> 1 

(l,\ In givi] 
(2.) In rece 

3(W OITKSTJONS TO THE [book iv. 

Si^te some of the principal peculiarities in the ciiaractei 
of tlie prodigal man. 

Account for the imion of profuseness and illiberaKty in 
tiho same person. 

Wliy is illiberality incurable ? 

Mention the different modes of illiberality. 

Are all called illiberal who receive gain from improper 
sources 1 

WHiat distinctions then do you make ] 


Define magnificence. 
Show in what it differs from liberaKty. 
Show, by reference to the public duties of an Athenian 
citizen, the great importance of this virtue. 
Give an account of the Athenian XEirovpyiau 
On what does propriety depend 1 
Name the excess and defect. 
Does magnificence imply eiriarfifxr} ? 
What is the motive 1 

Give examples of public and private magnificence. 
Can a poor man be magnificent ? 

Describe the characters of the fidvavaog and fiiKpoirpEiriiQ, 
What is the parode of a comedy ? 
Why are the Megareans introduced as an example here ? 


^Vhat is the object-matter of magnanimity ? 

Does Aristotle examine this virtue in the abstract or the 
concrete 1 

Does he pursue the same plan in any other cases ? 

Define the magnanimous man. 

Define the modest man. 

Name and define the excess and defect. 

Contrast heathen and Christian magnanimity. 

^lention examples of botL 

Give some illustrations of the idea which the Greoks had 
of personal beauty. 

Show how taste and the idea of beauty enter into theif 
Qioral system. 


Distinguish between n/xi; and to jcaXor. 

In what way is tlie magnanimous man com'ersant with 

What does Aristotle mean by saying that magnanimity 

IS KOfTfiOQ T(OV apeTLJv ? 

State some peculiarities in the character of the magiwuii- 
mous man : — 

(1.^ As to honour. 

^2.) As to wealth. 

3.^ As to courage. 

AS As to libersdity. 

[5.^ As to asking favours. 

'6.S As to seeking honour. 

7.^ As to trutL 

[S.\ As to friendship. 

(9.) As to manners and conduct. 

(10.) As to his gait, speech, &c. 
Why are magnanimous men thought superciUoiLs ? 
How does good fortune contribute to magnanimity ? 
What is the meaning of elpuveia ? 
Is the magnanimous man ever eipuv ? 
Describe the iitKpoxl^v^ocy and the p^avyoc. 
Which is most opposed to the mean, and which is worse ' 


What virtue is there which has to do with the san «i 
habit as the former 1 

Has Aristotle treated of it before 1 

What relation does it bear to magnanimity ? 

Illustrate this by referring to liberality. 

Whence arises ^he difficulty of assigning a name to this 
\drtue ? 

Why do the extremes assume the appearance of the mean I 


Define meekness, and name the extremes. 

Describe the character of the meek. 

Is the defect blamed ? 

Show that the excess takes place in all the categune4Si. 

310 ttUESTTOXS TO THE [iKMyK r. 

How many species are there of the exccf?s t 
Name them, and distinguish between them. * 
Which extreme is furthest from the mean ? 
What milder terms do we apply to slight transgressions ? 
How must the extent and natiu^ of transgression be 


Show, from what is known of Athenian life and manner^ 
the importance of treating of the social virtues. 
Name the extremes. 

Will the term " politeness " designate the miean habit ] 
Distinguish between the mean and friendship. 
What is the end and aim of the polite 1 
Within what limits wiii be aim at giving pleasure 1 
Distinguish between yhvg &nd lioterkoc* 


Describe the truthful charticter, and also the excess and 

In what limited sense is the term truthfulness here used ? 

Is truthfulness more shown in mattera of great or of little 
moment ? 

Distinguish between him who naakes pretensions with, 
and him who makes them without a motive. 

Show the possible connection between false modesty and 

Oive examples. 

Which is the worst of the two extremes ] 


Name and describe the social virtue in periods of relax- 

What is the etymological meaning of the term evrpaweXitt 

Name and describe the extremes. 

Why does one extreme sometimes g^t the credit of Lcinif 
the mean ? 

Wliat do you mean by tact 1 


Contrast tlie character, in respect to this virtue, of the 
educated and uneducated. 

How is this difference illustrated by Athenian comedy 1 

What considerations will regulate the beliaviour of him 
who jests with propriety ? 

Distinguish between the three social virtues. 


Define sense of shame. 
Is it a passion or a habit ? 
To what period of life is it especially becoming ? 
Show that a sense of shame is no part of the character o( 
a good man. 

In what sense is shame a worthy feeling 1 
What kind of virtue is continence ? 
Where does he speak of it more fiilly 1 



State Plato's theory of imiversal justice. 

Show how fer the views of Plato and Aristotle on the 
subject of justice coincida 

Define justitia expletrix and justitia attributrix. 

When the latter of these is termed distributive justice, is 
the expression used in Aristotle's sense 1 

In what way has Aristotle treated the subject of jiisticr 
in the Rhetoric 1 

How does he investigate the subject here 1 

Define justice and injustice. 

What point of difference does Aristotle speak of as exist- 
ing between capacities, sciences, and habits 1 

Does this furnish us with a means of ascertaining the 
nature of habits ? 

In how many senses are the terms just and imjust used ? 

Why is it difiicult to distinguish between them ] 

dI2 QUESTIONS TO THE [bihik r 

StAte and explain these senses. 

Distinguish between ofiutyv/jia and tn/vwyufuu 

Wliat is the object of laws ) 

Show that universal justice is perfect Tirtue, not sU^kv 
lutely, but relatively. 

Show the difference between universal justice and petfect 


Why is particular justice the object of Aristotle's inves- 
tigation ? 

Show how universal injustice differs fix)m particular. 

Show that all acts of particular injustice may be termed 
•^cts of irXeovelia, 

What are the subdivisions of particular justice 1 

How many sorts of transactions are there 1 

Give examples of each. 

CHAT. in. 

Show that a just act implies four terms at least. 

Of what will those terms consist ? 

Which justice is Aristotle here considering 1 

According to what proportion is it ? 

How many sorts of geometrical proportion are there 2 

Which kind is here spoken of ? 


Show that in corrective justice arithmetical proportion ib 
to be observed. 

How far are the persons to be considered 1 

111 this justice, what is " the just " a mean between f 

In what sense is the judge a mean ? 

How is the mean determined ? 

What is the etymology of mVatov I 

Illustrate Aristotle's theory by a diagram. 

Account for the use of the term loss and gain. 



What was the Pythagorean notion of justice ? 

Is it a correct one ? 

Show the difference between commutative justice and 
distributive and corrective justice. 

Show the necessity of observing analogy. 

Explain^ and illustrate by examples and by a diagram, tho 
meaning of the expression " diametrical conjunction." 

Prove the necessity, in dealings between man and man, of 
a common measure of value. 

What is that common measure, and what its representative ? 

Why is money called yofjutrfxa ? 

What is the use of money with reference to fiiture 
exchange ? 

Is money, strictly speaking, an invariable standard ? 

In what respect does justice differ from the other vifi;ues ? 

Define injustice. 


Distinguish between moral and political justice. 

Show that, according to the principles of political justice, 
an unjust act does not necessarily imply moi^ injustice. 

How far does the idea of justice enter into the relations of 
masters and servants, parents and children, &c ? 


What are the divisions of political justice ? 

Explain and illustrate each of them. 

Prove the existence of natural justice, and refute the 

Distinguish between d^/in^jua and &dii:oy, also between 
diKaluffia^ hUaioy, and ^iKaioirpayrjfjia, 


What determines the justice and injustice of an act ? 
How does Anstotle here define and explain tlie teriii 
voluntary ?" 

814 QUESTIONS TO THE . Tbook ti 

How many kinds of pXd^ai are there I 

Is Aristotle's diyidon quite con-ect f 

State them, and give the corresponding J^tin terms. 

Describe and give examples of aruxtjfia, Afxaprrffia, and 

Are acts done through anger unjust- 1 

Give Aristotle's definition of anger in the Hhetoric. 

Distinguish between human passions and natural appetites. 

Are acts done imder the influence of these pardonable or 

CHAP. IX. . 

Can a man be injured with Ids own consent ? 
Is a man always injured when unjustly dealt witH ? 
Can a man injure himself ? 
Illustrate this question by the case of Glaucus. 
D.oes the giver of too much, or the receiver, commit the 
act of injustice 1 

Kefute the following common errors : — 

(1.) That as to act unjustly is always in our power, to 

act justly is so likewise. 
(2.) That it is easy to know what is just and what is 

(3.) That a just man can do an act of injustice. 
In what sense does Aristotle use the expression &ir\in 
ayada here ? 


Distinguish between justice and equity. 
How has Aristotle treated the subject of equity in th« 
Bhetoric ] 

Sliow that justice and equity are not opposed. 

Define equity, and show its superioiity to justice. 

Ill what does law fail of its object 1 

Why does it fail 1 

AV'hat is the use of equity 1 

Define the equitable man. 

Explain tlie proverb " Summum jus, sunima injviriik.* 



Prove tiia';?w.maii cannot injure liimselE 

il.) In universal justice. 
2.) In 

particular justice. 

According to the principles of Greek law, " Quae lex non 
jubet vetat ;" according to those of ours, *• Qujb lex non 
vetat permittit ;" account for this difference. 

Why is it worse to do, than to suffer injustice 1 

Can the contrary be true accidentally 1 

Does this consideration come within the province of 
science ? 

Show that metaphorically a man can injure lumseK 



What is Aristotle's object in treating of the intellectua) 
virtues ? 

What course does he consequently pursue 1 

Why is it necessary to examine the nature of opddg Xdyot ? 

Define right reason. 

What connection is there between right reason and 
prudence 1 

Show fix)m Aristotle's theory of the relation of reason to 
rirtue, the practical superiority of his system to that oi 
Plato and Socrates. 

Whence arises the difficulty of examining the nature ol 
right reason ? 

Divide the rational soul according to the matter with 
which it is conversant. 

In this division, in what sense is \6yog used ] 

How are genus and differentia ascertained ] 

Distinguish between subjectum materiale arid subject am 

S16 QUESTIONS TO THB [mmk vi. 


Name the three principles which influence moral action 
and tmth. 

Mliich of these is the principle of moral actioiiL i 

In what sense are vou£ and Biayoia here used ? 

Difddngoish between rove and ^layoia. 

How do we disoover the virtue of each part of the soul f 

Show that truth is the ipyov of both parts. 

Explain the relation which subsists between ciaioiOf 
jTpoaipetric, and ope^ig in moral action. 

What matter comes within the province of delibemtiou ? 


Name the five intellectual habits. 
Why are supposition and opinion excluded ? 
Arrange these habits in a table, according to their matter. 
How many kinds of necessity are there according to 
Aristotle ? 

Distinguish between them. 

How is science acquired ? 

From what two sources is all learning derived ? 

Explain syllogism and induction. 

Define science. 


How many kinds of contingent matter are tliei*e ? 
Distinguish between TrolrjaiQ and irpa^tg. 
With what three processes is art conversant ? 
Explain the connection between art and chance. 
Define ri^vri and aTeyvia, 

By what process does Aristotle arrive at the? invcstigatiou 

cf (l)fj6prj(TiQ ? 

In what other cases has he pursue! a similar one ? 
State the characteristics of the pndent man. 


DistiDguish between (f>p6vri(ng and eiricrrff/Jir,, 

Define it really and nominaUy. 

Support Aristotle's definition by reference to goncmi 

Show the moral effect of intemperance. 

Has intemperance any effect upon science ? 

What is the difference between prudence and art ? 

Of what part of the soul is prudence the virtue ? 

Which part does Aristotle here term ro do^atrriKoy ? 

Why are virtuous energies more stable than those c»f 
science ? 

Has Aristotle alluded to this fact before ? 


With what is yovg conversant ? 

Give Aristotle's definitions both here and in the magua 

Show that the habit irepl apx<^v cannot be science or art, 
or prudence or wisdom. 

What kind of reasoning is this called ? 


What does ffo<pLa signify when applied to the arts ? 

What is its general si^iification % 

Give instances of different applications of the term. 

How many kinds of (ro<f>ia are there ? 

Prove that it is the most accurate of all the sciences. 

Of what two intellectual habits is it composed ? 

How does it differ fi'om <i>p6vrj(Ti<: 1 

Wliy is it practically important to establish this difference t 

Show how it differs from the political science. 

Support the distinction drawn between wisdom and pru- 
dence by reference to general opinion. 

Show that prudence has to do with particulars as well aa 


How far are prudence and the political science similar 
iud how far do they differ I 


Name the different species of prudence. 
Exhibit them in a table. 

Can the pnidencc which relates to the individiud 1« 
really separated from the other kinds ? 

Why can a yoimg man be trotftog, but not <l>p6yifioc % 
Show how prudence differs from; scieziee' and intcdti(m& ^ 
What does Aristotle here mean by to etryaror 1 
What faculty takes oognizanoe of these io^ard^ = 


What relation do deliberation and inyestigation bear to 
one another ? 

Show that ev^ovXia is not — 

(1.) Science. 

(2.) IIai>py conjecture. 
Show what kind of an opdorrig it is. 
In how niany ways may correctness be predicated ? 
Oive Aiistotle'a definition of ev^ovXia. 


Show that intelligence is neither science nor opinioiu 

With what subjects is it conversant ? 

How does it differ from prudence 1 

What is its province ? 

Is it exactly synonymous with judgment or not ? 


Define candour, and distinguish it from intelligence. 

Define crvyyvoifxriy and state in what its correctness consists. 

Explain the connection between candour and other Intel- 
loctual habits. 

Compare the sense in wliich . vovg is used here mth that 
in which it has been used pi'e^iously.. 

Is there any inconsistency in this twofold use of the termi 

Explain the expression ffvXXoynriJog twv vpcucrwr. 

Show that the minor premiss is the origin of the motive. 

Explain why the habits here discussed have been held to 
be natural. 

Show the importance of attention to authority 



State the objections which have been urgei to the utility 
of wisdom and prudence. 

What is meant by the. objection;thafc wisdom relates to no 
•X5t of generation or production ? 

State the argument on which the objections are foimded. 
That prudence is useless to one who has virtue. 
That it is so to one who has not yet- attained it. 
What illustration is here adduced ? 
In how many senses is vyuivoy used ? 


In which of these significations is it used here 1 
What objection is founded on the relative importance of 
Misdom and prudence 1 
Refute these objections. 

(1.) By showing that even if that which is alleged be 

granted, still the objection will not hold good. 
(2.) By denying the allegation altogether. 
Prove that prudence is inseparable from moral virtue. 
Show the usefulness of prudence as regards the tpyov. 
Explain what is meant by ^ccj/orj^c, state its relation to 
<J>p6vrj(nQ and iravovpyia. 

Exhibit the process of moral action in a syllogistic form. 
Which part of this syllogism is capable of being disceme;.! 
only by a gooi man 1 


Distinguish between natural virtue and virtue proper. 

•Show that the relation betweeii them is the same as that 
!>etween cleverness and prudence. 

Show how fer Socrates was right, and how far wi'OLg, in 
his view of the connection between virtue and prudence. 

What change must be made in t.h« expression icar dpOuv 
Aoyov, and why ? 

In what sense may it bo said with truth that the virtues 
are separable ? 

Is there any ambiguity in the use of the term (^porij&ig iu 
this cliaptor 1 

tm QU«5STI0VS TO THE f book ^ii 



Explain the difference in the mode cf treating the subject 
of virtue and vice here, and in the former books. 

Name the three things to be avoided in respect of moraJa, 
and also their opposites. 

Amongst whom is brutality chiefly found ? 

What virtues and vices does Aristotle here propose to 
speak of ? 

In what manner does he propose to treat of them 1 

State the seven common opinions which he proposes for 

CHAP. 11. 

What was Socrates's opinion respecting incontinence ? 

Trace this opinion to the theory of virtue. 

Show that his system is at variance with what -we see. 

How have some people endeavoured to modify the views 
of Socrates 1 

Kefiite the doctrine that the incontinent man possesses only 
opinion, and not knowledge. 

Prove that he cannot possess prudence. 

Prove that continence and intemperance are incompatible. 

Prove that continence does not make a man abide l>y 
every opinion. 

How docs the case of Neoptolemus illustrate this ? 

Explain the sophistical argument xpev^ofieyoc^ and nhoxr 
Low it is applicable as an illustration here. 

Show that, on the supposition that the continent abides by 
every opinion, the intemperate is better and more easily 
cured than the incontinent. 

What observation doer Aristotle make on the se\^m.t]i 
opinion enumerated ? 



State the three questions which Aristotle here especially 
proposes for investigation. 

What two points does he consider it necessary first to 
determine ? 

State the comparison which he draws between the intem- 
perate and the incontinent as the residt of this investigation. 

Why does it not matter whether a man acts contraiy to a 
true opinion or to science 1 

Illustrate this irom the examp.e of Heraclitus. 

Explain fiilly the four ways in which the incontinent acts 
contrary to knowledge. 

Exphdn what is meant by the expressions to icaOoXov i<j>* 
iavTOXf and TO KadoXov iri tov TrpaynaTog. 

How do lunatics generally act ? 

Is the giving utterance to good moral sentiments a proof 
of virtuous character ? 

Is the reverse a proof of the contrary character ] 

In the fourth method which Aristotle discusses, why ia 
the subject said to be treated physically ? 

Why cannot brutes be called incontinent ? 

From whom must we learn how the incontinent can regain 
knowledge ? 

Show how far the view elicited in this chapter is in 
harmony with that of Socrates. 

CHAP. lY. 

Which of the seven common opinions (c. L) does Aristotle 
here discuss? 

In order to this, what division does he make of the causes 
which produce pleasure 1 

Give examples of each. 

To which class does he confine incontinence jcara fiipoc ? 

For what reason is the vice in this case called incontinence 1 

Explain Aristotle's illustration of the oXvjjLmoyiKriQ, 

Describe the character of the aKparrjc dTrXoif. 

What relation subsists between effeminacy a ad isoonti 

322 QUESTIONS TO THE [book tii. 

WliicL is worse to yield to, strong or slight tem^ftations ? 

Do 70U find a similar maxim in ^e Khetorio with respect 
to injustice ? 

Why does he make another division of pleasures here 9 

In what pleasures does even excess never amount to 
uovOripia 1 

Give examples. 

Does incontinence (anXCtg) exist in respect of them 1 


How does pleasure affect the consideration of the subject 
of brutality 1 

Give examples of ^rjpiorrjg. 

From how many causes is brutality produced ? 

Show that you cannot properly term brutality vicious. 

Can brutal propensities be resisted and overcome ? 


Prove that incontinence of appetite is worse than incon- 
tinence of anger. 

What does Aristotle say in his Bhetoric on the subject of 

Illustrate this chaptei: by reference to Bishop Butlers 
sermon on resentment. 

Show that anger acts according to the suggestions of 

Show that anger is more natural than desire. 

Show that it is less insidious 

Support this by a quotation from Homer. 

How is the jGeuxt, that pain, and not pleasure, accompanies 
anger, a proof of the point in question 1 

How does v^pig (wanton insolence) affect the consideratioD 
of the question ? 

What does Aristotle say of v^pig in the Ehetoric 1 

With which of the two divisions of bodily pleasures here 
given are temperance and intemperance conversant f 

Can we speak of brute beasts or insane perROTw as tcmi)fe- 
rate and intemperate ? 

Why can we not ? 

CHA*-. ix.l NlCOMACllKAN ETHICS. 52» 

Can any comparison in point of badness be Instituted 
between "vice and brutality ? 

CHAP. vn. 

What distinction does Axistotle draw between continence 
and patience ? 

What between intemperance and incontinence ? 

Is intemperance attended with an inclination to repent- 

Is it incurable ? 

Which is the worse, intemperance, incontinence, or effemi- 
nacy ? 

What does Aristotle mean by rpu^// ? 

In what way does he illustrate its nature ? 

In what case is incontinence pardonable ? 

Mention the subdivisions of incontinence. 


Why are the eKoraTiKol less blameable than other inconti- 
nent persons ? 

How far is incontinence to be considered a vice ? 

Illustrate this by the saying of Demodocus. 

Prove that the intemperate is iilcurable, but the inconti- 
nent not. 


Has the question " whether the continent is the same a? 
he who adheres to his opinion *' been proposed before 1 

In how many ways may it be considered ? 

State them accurately. 

Show that from the first two an absurdity necessarily 

Show that from the third a fresh distinction between con 
tinence and incontinence may be deduced. 

How &r do the obstinate resemble, and how far do tuey 
differ from, the continent and incontinent? 

What does Aristotle remark respectiDg those who do no* 
abide by a bad resolve f 

sat QUESTIONS TO TI.E L^ook ^il 

Th there any vicious defect on the subject of continence 1 
State Aristotle's concluding remarks on the relation of 
continence to temperance. 


Prove the incompatibility of prudence and incontinence. 

Prove that, owing to the difference between cLevemesa 
and prudence, the former is compatible with incontinence. 

Prove that the incontinent is not unjust. 

Give Aristotle's illustration here of the incontinent cha- 

Why are some species of incontinence more curable thai 
others 1 



How does the subject of Mendship belong to ethics ? 

Would its connection with ethics be considered as import 
aut by a Greek more perhaps than by any other person I 

Is Mendship of great practical utility to the young ? 

Illustrate this from Homer. 

Is it implanted in us by nature ? 

How far does it appear to be the bond of human society t 

How fer does it supply the place of justice 1 
. Compare it with Christian love or charity. 

Show from common opinion that it is honourable. 

What proverbs have originated in supposing friendship to 
arise from similarity of character 1 

What from the reverse ? 

How far are both these theories reconcilable -with the 
iruth ? 

What physical theory is embodied in a passage of £hmpidesf 

What were the opinions of Heraclitus and Empedocles ? 

Why does Aristotle dismiss the consideration of thew 
^uestions ? 

What questions does he propose to examine 1 



How does lie propose to commence the inquiiy ? 

What axe the objects of friendship 1 

When Aristotle speaks of good as one ohject, does he mean 
absolute or relative goodi 

What, then, are the three causes of friendship ? 

Why cannot the term Mendship be applied to afiectioii 
for inanimate things 1 

What do you ^11 the feeling where there is no recipro* 

Is any other condition necessary to friendship besides reci- 
procity ? 

Define the necessary conditions of friendship. 


How many species of friendship are there? 

Are two of these not really so ? 

Give your reasons for your statement. 

Why are these two species of friendship easily dissolved ? 

Amongst whom is the friendship ^la to -xpriffifLoy usuaF / 
found ? 

Why is this the case ? 

Amongst whom that dia to Ijdv ? 

Why are the young fickle in friendship ? 

What does Horace say on this point ? 

To which species of friendship does that of hospitality bo- 

Between whom does true friendship subsist 1 

On what is it based ? 

Describe time friendship. 

Show that it has in it a principle of permanence. 

Does it include under it the two false kinds ? 

Why is true friendship rarely found ? 

Wliy can it not be rapidly formed 1 

CHAP. r\r. 

Show that the two imperfect species are cojdeB of iiiti 


826 QUESTIONS TO THE [book viti. 

Why is ic more permanent than love ? 
Prove that it cannot subsist except between the good, 
whereas the other species can. 
Why is it superior to calumny ? 
Why are the fidse kinds called friendship at all ? 
Are the two false kinds ever found combined ? 


What effect does absence produce on friendship ? 

Why are the old and morose ill-suited to friendship 9 

Show that intimacy is necessary in order to mitipt J"" 

What remarks already made does Aristotle here briefly 
recapitulate 1 

Distinguish between ^/Xi/orcc and 0tXia. 

Proye that when the good love their friend, they loTe that 
which is good to themselves. 


Can the old and ill-tempered feel evyoia 1 

Why can you not entertain true friendship for a great 
number, whereas you can entertain the two other kinds? 

Which of the two felse kinds most resembles the true ? 

Why is this the case ? 

Which friendship do the happy and prosperous need 1 

How are men in power influenced in theirchoice of friends ! 

What considerations will regulate the friendship between 
a good man and a great man 1 


Show that in the friendships hitherto treated o^ eqiiality 
between the parties has been considered. 

Give instances of unequal friendships. 

In these friendships, what will insure permanenjce ? 

Between parties who are imequal, on which side will the 
feeling be the stronger ? 

What contrast does Aristotle here draw between justiot 
and friendship 1 


Show that even between persons unequal, equality in 
Bome sense must be produced. 

lUiistrate this by the case of the gods and of kings. 

What question has arisen from the fact, that friendship 
ceases in cases of great inequality 1 


In our opinions of friendship, are we influenced by the 
desire of honour 1 

Is friendship generally thought to consist most in being 
the object of friendship or in feeling the sentiment ? 

How is this opinion supported by the case of mothers ? 

Why is there stability in the friendship of the good, and 
instabUity in that of the wicked ? 

Show that friendship ^lU to xpW^ftoy is produced by tho 
existence of contrary qualities. 


What is the relation which subsists between justice and 
friendship ? 

How is justice affected by the degree of friendship ? 

What is the principal object of political or civil society? 

Show that all associations or communions are parts of 

Illustrate by examples what is meant by KotviDviai, ' 

Show that corresponding friendships will accompany these 
several Koiywyiai. 


How many kinds of political constitutions are there 1 

How many corruptions of them 1 

Name them all, and state which are the best and worst. 

Give a definition of each, and state what is the end and 
object of each. 

Compare the theory here given with that given in tho 
Rhetoric, and accoimt for the difference between them. 

Explain how each of the forms passes znto its corresponding 

328 QUESTIONS TO THE [book a. 

Give the paraJels to those forms of gcvenunent wliidi 
exiiit in private life. 


Show at greater length the parallelisni beti^een the justice 
and friendship which exists in each form of government and 
that which exists in the corresponding cases in private life. 

Can friendship and justice exist in a despotism % 

Can they exist at all, and if at all, how far, between a 
master and a slave ? 

Compare on these points despotisms and democracies. 


On what does the friendship which subsists bet\ireen rela- 
tions depend ? 

Compare the grounds, motives, and degrees of filial and 
parental affection. 

Why is the affection of mothers stronger than that of 
fathers ? 

What is the origin of fraternal love 1 

Why does it resemble that between companions 1 

What is the law of variation in friendship between rela- 

Why does the friendship between relations include more 
of the jf^if and •^pi)(n^ov than any others? 

What is the oi-igin of conjugal love or friendship 1 

On what is it based ? 

On what grounds does Aristotle consider cliildren a bond 
of union between married persons 1 


In wliich kind of equal friendships do disputes mostly arise ! 
FoV what reason 1 

Why are friends ^la to ayaQbv not inclined to complain ? 
Why are disputes imusual between friends ^la to rjBvl 
What are thfe subdivisions of friendship ha to xpnai/xop '? 
Show how they differ from each other, especially as regarda 
the question of disputes. 


What rule does Aristotle lay do-wn to gui<le us in recog- 
nizing an obligation 1 

Is the standard of obligation to be the benefit conferred 
on the receiver, or the benevolence of the doer ? 

How is this question to be answered in the case of friend- 
ships ^ca TO &ya66y 1 


Whence do complaints originate in unequal friendships ? 

What is the view taken by the superior ? 

What argument is used by the inferior ? 

How does Aristotle settle the question between the two 

How does he illustrate it by the practice of states 1 

What rules does he lay down to regulate the intercoui-se 
of unequal friends 1 

What observations result from the above view of the 
subject respecting the parental and filial relations ? 



What is it which pTOserves and renders equal unequal 
friendships ? 

Give an illustration of this. 

In the friendship of lovers, what complaints arise ? 

On what is this friendship founded, and therefore why ia 
It liable to be dissolved, whereas the friendship founded on 
moral qualities is permanent 1 

What case of complaint is illustrated by the story of the 

Who then is to fix the rate of compensation ? 

What is said to have been the practice of Protagoras ? 

What does Aristotle say w^ the practice of the sophists, 
and why was it so 1 

What rule must be obsen'ed when no previous agreement 
has been made ? 


H30 QUESTIONS TO THE [book o. 

Why mast the same rale be observed between teacher and 
'pupil ? 

What rale must be observed in cases where the eiqpecta- 
tion of a return is avowed 1 

On what principles should the receiver estimate the value 
of what he has received ? 

CHAP. n. 

Give examples of other questions which arise in connectioL 
with this subject. 

Sliow in what consists the difficulty of settling them. 

Does the rule " to be just before you are generous " admit 
of exceptions ? 

State what they are, and examine them. 

Show (1) that different persons have different claims, 
according to the relation in which they severally stand to 
us : and (2) that duties and obligations differ in the same 

Give examples. 

Does any difficulty arise from this circiunstance 9 

How should we meet the difficulty ? 


On what groiuids may Mendships be dissolved 1 

Under what circumstances might a man justly complain 
of another for dissolving a friendship ? 

What is the common source of disagreement between 
friends ? 

What may we do in the case of being deceived as to 
character 1 

What is an absolute duty in such a case ? 

What is to be done if one party improves morally, and 
the other continues imchanged ? 


Describe the relation which friendship bears to self-love. 
State the definitions which are commonly given of a 


Show that a good man entertains all these characteristic 
feelings towards himself 

"What does Aristotle say, with reference to this subject^ of 
the intellectual principle in man ? 

How does he illustrate his view by reference to the case 
:>f a god 1 

Why is a good man fond of self-communion 1 

Does Aristotle enter into the question of whether a man 
i&n be a firiend to himself? 

What objection may be lu'ged to Aristotle's theory 1 

How may it be answered ? 

Why cannot a bad man sympathize with, or be a Mend to 

What is consequently our duty 1 


Show that good-will is neither Mendship nor fondness. 
Describe what it is, and illustrate by the case of pleasure 
as connected with love. 

Show that it is necessary to Mendship. 

What may it be called metaphorically ? 

Into which species of Mendship may it be improved ? 

Why does it not become either of the other two 1 

What is the origin in all cases of good-will ? 


Distinguish between unanimity and oneness of opinion. 
To agreement on what subjects does the latter term 
apply ? 

In what cases is the former term used ? 
Illustrate it from politics, and from the Phoeoissse. 
Define imanimity, and prove your definition. 
Amongst whom alone can it exist ? 
Why is it never foimd among the wicked ? 


Compare the feelings of benefjEu^tors, and those whom they 
have benefited. 

332 QUESTIONS TO THE [book ix 

Is tlafi resuk: such as might have been expected % 
How do most persons account for the existence of this 

What would Epicharmus say of the account thns givoi t 
What does Aristotle consider the true account 1 
Illust .*ate his view by the cases of poets and artisans. 
By hew many arguments does Aristotle prove his point I 
State them all in order. 

CHAP. \^n. 

What is the reason that self-love is blamed ? 

Distinguish between reasonable self-love and selfishness. 

What does Bishop Butler say respecting self-love 1 

Show that facts contradict the view that self-love is alwap 

Quote the proverbs which Aristotle adduces in support 
of his view. 

Does the difference of opinion on this subject arise from 
the term self-love being used in different senses ? 

What is self-love understood to mean when it is blame- 

Is this the sense in which the term is generally used 1 

Tn what sense, however, is the term more correctly used I 

Prove that this is the case. 

In order to this, show that the intellectual principle 
constitutes each man's self. 

What advantage results to society from real self-love 1 

Show that self-love is an absolute duty. 

In cases of self-sacrifice, what motive acts upon our self- 
love ? 

How will this motive lead the good man to act uider 
cei-tain circumstances ? 


What idea is commonly entertained respecting the need 

of friends to a happy man ? 

What absurdity is involved in this opinion t 

How can it be refrited by considerinsf the nature of bene* 

ficenoe 1 


What question arises out of this consideration as to the 
comparative need of Mends in prosperity and adversity ] 

How does the nature of man contradict this commonly 
received opinion ? 

Aocoimt for the existence of this opinion, and show how 
far it is correct. 

Show from the definition and nature of happiness itself 
tliat the happy man needs friends. 

Show tlmt they are necessary on the hypothesis that 
happiness implies pleasure. 

Show that, if good, they improve virtue. 

Prove the same fact from the pleasure which is derived 
from the consciousness and perception of existence. 


What precept respecting hospitality may perhaps be con 
sidered as applicable to friendship 1 

Does this precept certainly apply to the case of friend- 
ships Sta TO ')(pri<Tifioy and ha ro ii^v ? 

Why so? 

Is any limit to be put to the number of virtuous friends 

How is this illustrated by referring to political commu- 
nities 1 

What practical rule is to guide us in limiting the number 7 

What other fiact ought we to keep in mind 1 

Why is it difficult to sjrmpathize with many ? 

What lesson do all the well-known examples of friendship 
teach us on this point 1 

By what name do we designate those who seem intimate 
with everybody ? 

In what way may a man be a friend to many, and yet 
not deserve the above name ? 


Prove that friends are requisite both in prosperity and 


Why are they more necessary in adversity 1 

Which kind are most wanted in prosperity, and which in 


•5'jl QUESTIONS TO THE [book t. 

What is the reason that firiendship diTniniaheB the wa^i 
of afiOiction ? 

Does Aristotle pursue the investigatioii of this qnestion to 
any length 1 

Is not the effect produced by the presenoe of a fiienci 
on a man under calamity of a mixed kind 1 

Under such drcumstances, what is the oondact of the 
manly character 1 

"What is our duty in such circumstances ? 

What are the advantages of Mends when we sste is 
prosperity ? 

How should we treat our Mends when we are in adver- 
sity, and how when we are in prosperity ? 

What caution is requisite when we decline sympathy ? 

What is the general conclusion 'to which Anstotle comes! 

CHAP. xn. 

What is the chief bond of Mendship ? 

Is the case the same in love 9 

How do men usually like to pass their time w^hen in the 
society of their friends ? 

Hence, what effect is produced on the friendship of the 
's\'icked 1 

What on that of the good ? 

Quote a sentiment in support of your a^Bertion. 


CHAP. 1. 

Give Aristotle's reasons for entering upon a iliscaasion of 
the subject of pleasure. 

What are the two opposite opinions usually entertained 
on this subject ? 

What are the grounds and motives for them 1 


What does Aristotle consider the proper course to pnrwje I 
How must the truth of theories be proved ? 
To what difficulty is he liable who declaims against plear 


What was the opinion of Eudorus ? 

What were the grounds of it ? 

How does he argue in fiivour of it ) 

State his four arguments in support of his views. 

What was the reason that his views found fiivour 1 

What objection is first made to his theory 1 

Is there any similarity between this argument and that hy 

which Plato proves that pleasure is not the chief good ? 
How may the objection to the first position of Eudoxus be 

answered ? 


How many objections are made to his second position 1 — 
What are they ? 

Answer the first by a counter objection, and the second, 
by drawing a distinction between pleasures. 

What is the objection on the groimd that pleasure is a 
motion and a generation 1 

How many kinds of motion are there, according to Aris- 
totle 1 

Answer the objection, by proving that pleasure is neither 
a motion nor a generation. 

Prove that pleasure is not a supplying a deficiency. 

Suppose base pleasures are brought forward, how would 
yon answer this ? 

Support your argument by analogy. 

What further iUustrations may be adduced in support 
of the assertions, (1) that pleasure is not the chief good ; 
(2) that neither every eligible thing is pleasant^ nor every 
pleasure eligible ? 


Explaii. what is meant by oKov ri^ by the example o^ 


Prove, then, tliat pleasure is a whole. 

Show that for this reason it differs fi-om a motion or a 

Give an illustration derived fix)m architecture. 

Give another, taken from the different kinds of motions. 

In order to get at Aristotle's theory of pleasure, describe 
what he means by the best energy. 

Prove that pleasure makes the energy perfect, and state 
the way in which it does so. 

Explain how it is that we cannot feel pleasiu*c continuoaslj. 

Prove that the love of pleasure is the consequence of the 
love of life. 

Does Aristotle here enter upon the question whether we 
choose life for the sake of pleasure, or pleasure for the sake 
of life 1 


In proving that pleasures differ in species, show 

(1.) That they perfect different productions and different 

(2.) That each energy is increased by its proper plea- 
(3.) That the pleasures resulting firom one kind of 
energy are a hinderance to other enei^es. 
If we are engaged in two different energies at the same 
time, what becomes of the least pleasant ? 

When ai'e we inclined to engage in two occupations at 
once ? 

Compare the effect of pleasures which are foreign to any 
euergy with the pains proper to it ; and give an example in 

How are we to estimate the qualities of pleasures ? 
Which are most closely connected with the energies^ the 
pleasures which attend thereon, or the desires which originate 
them i 

Compare in point of purity the varioiis pleasures of the 
intellect and the sense& 

Show that different men, and the same men under dif- 
ferent circumstances, entertain different ideas of pleasure. 

Describe then fully true pleasure, and show how Aristolle 
investigates its nature. 



Why does Aristotle now return to the discussion of the 
subject of happiness ? 

What does he say that happiness is not ? and why so 1 

What division does he make of energies 1 

To which of these classes does happiness beloni? 3 

Axe any other energies besides virtoous energies^eligible fiu 
their own sakes ? 

Are amusements of this number ? 

How comes it that amusements are sometimes mistaken 
for happiness 1 

ProYe that amusement does not constitute happiness. 

Prove that in reality amusement is not eligible for its omji 

Why cannot bodily pleasure constitute 'happiness 1 


Show that happiness must be an energy of the best paxl 
of our nature, whatever that be. 

Prove that this energy is (1) contemplative, (2) continuoun. 
(3) self-sufficient, (4) eligible for its own sake, (5) consisfcemt 
-vith a state of perfect rest. 

What energies are inconsistent with the idea of rest t 

Show that the qualities above mentioned are united in the 
energy of the intellect, and in no other. 

Why is the condition ev fil^ reXel^ added 1 

How &r may men be considered capable of enjoying sodh 

What, then, must be our earnest endeavour, if we wouU 
possess this happiness ? 

Prove that this happiness is most proper to man. 


How &r is moral vui;ue productive of happiness 1 

Does moral virtue depend at all upon a man's ph)idcal 

constitution ? 

Show the superiority of intellectual to moral virtue 9S 

regards external goods. 


•80 QUESTIONS TO THE Ibook x. 

How does the example of the gods finpport Aristotle'g 

How does the case of the lower animals support it 9 

On what, then, will the degree of happiness depend 1 

But though contemplative happiness is independent of 
external goods, are thej necessary to man ? 

To what extent are thej necessaiy t 

What argument maj be drawn from the virtues observable 
in different classes of society ? 

Compare Aristotle's statements with those of Solon and 

Although the opinions of the wise are evidences in 
Aristotle's favour, still what is the grand test ? 

Who is likely to be the greatest &.vourite of the godi ? 


What is the general object of this chapter ) 

What is the proper end of all ethical investigations 1 

In what do moral precepts &il, and how fetjc are they 

What motive has the strongest influence over the masses t 

By how many means is it supposed that men are made 
virtuous ? 

How many of these are in our nower ? 

To what influence does Aristotle attribute natural gifts ? 

Is any predisposition to virtue absolutely necessary, in 
order to learn ? 

How is that to be acquired ? 

Show the importance of a national system of education. 

Is this system to be confined to the young, or to be far 
more comprehensive ? 

Hence, what views have been held respecting the duties of 
legislators in this respect ? 

Why is the authority of law preferable to the paternal 
authority 1 

Has any state laid down laws to enforce education f 

If the state neglects this duty, what subject nyist private 
individuals study, in order to educate successftdly ? 

What are the advantages of a system of private education 
over a public one 1 


Does this also show the importance of tlie knowledge of 
the principles of legislation 1 

Whence is this knowledge to be obtained ? 

To whom would the student apply in vain ? 

Why so? 

Show the importance of a practical acquaintance with the 

State the errors into which the sophists have fallen. 

Although collections of laws will not do everything, how 
fiir are they useful ? 

Why is it necessary for Aristotle to investigate the subiect 
of legislation 1 

How does this lead him to undertake a treati»9 on 
politico ? 






Accidental injur^Mi 138. 

Accidents, how far they affect hi^pl- 
ness, 25. 

Actions, voluntary, inyolantary, and 
mixed, 54, and ii. ; done from 
^vfibc and kmOvfilat td. 

iEschylus, 48. 

Affection resembles prodnction, 248. 

Agathon, 156. 

Ambition, 48. 

Anacharsis, 277. 

Analysis, 6, n. 

Anazagoras, 162, 284. 

Anaxandrides, 200. 

Anger, 139 ; natural, 192. 

Antigone, 135, n. 

Appetite, 31. 

Argives, mistake of the, 78. 

Ai^uments from principles, and trice 
vertdf 6. 

Aristocracy, 221. 

Aristotie's system compared with 
Plato's, 1 , n. ; most practical, 5, ». ; 
reconciled with others, 18; poli- 
tics, 292 ; idea of the soul after 
death, 23, n. ; antagonistic to as- 
ceticism, 255, n. 

Arrogance, 48, 110. 

Art, with what oonversantv 156^ 

Asceticism, 255, n. 

Authority, 170. 

/vpiM, 112, 113. 

'Avvlvoia, 166. 
*AoeKa(TTot, 52, ». 

MaSfiniQ, 152, 170. 

AicoAacria, 85. 

'Aicp<$;^oXoc> its deriTatiQii, 105. 
*Av6XyfiT0i, 73. 
"ApiffKoii 107. 
'Apcr^, 43, n. 
"ApiffToit 119. 
'Arvx*}f(a, afi&priiiuif and AiiKfi^m 

differ, 139. 
AvTdpKuat 15. 


Bashfulness, 49. 

Benefactors love more tlian thoir 

benefited, 247. 
Blessed, how applicable to man, ?C ; 

to the gods, 28. 
Brasidas, 135, and ft. 
Brave men, how fearless, 73; do^ 

fined, ib. ; their excesses and di^ 

fects, ib. 
Brutality, 178, 189, et 9eq., 193. 
Brutes not happy, 22; nor i]L09f>< 

tinent, 85. 
Butler, 39, n. ; 283, n. 
Bavavcrfa, 93. 
BavKorravovpyoQ, 111, k. 
Biaioc, 8, ft. 
B\A€ai, 139. 
BwfioXSxoif 112. lis. 




Callitthenes, 101, n. 

Calypso, 52. 

Candour I 168. 

Capacities, 41. 

Carcinns, 195. 

Casuistic ethics, 236, n. 

Categories, 11, n. 

CatiUne, 91, n. 

Celts, their braverj, 73. 

Chance not the cause of happine8s,21 . 

Children, a bond of union, 227. 

Cicero, 13, n.; 41, ». 

Clevemess, 173 ; not identical with 
prudence, ib. 

Clownishness, 49. 

Comedy, the old and new, 113. 

Complaisance to excess, 49. 

Compulsory actions, 56. 

Contemplative life most divine, 280, 

Continence, 115 ; different from pa- 
tience, 193 ; contingent matter, 

Correctness, how used, 166. 

Courage, 46, 70 ; moral, 71 ; when 
shown by the brave, ib, ; not in 
all kinds of death, ib. ; five spuri- 
ous kinds of, 74 — 78 ; conversant 
with rd <po€epdt 79. 

Cretans, 29. 

Cube, man compared to a, 25. 

Cyclops, 288. 

Cynics, 38, n. 

XapUvTfc^ 7, n. 


Dead, whether affected by the condi- 
tion of the living, 26. 

Death the most fearful of things, 71. 

Defect, 35. 

Delian inscription, 20. 

Deliberation, its subjects, 61, 62 ; 
concerning means, 63 ; cUffers from 
investigation, ib, s not concerning 
ends, 64 ; differs from deliberate 
preference, ib, ; how limited, 162 ; 
good, 165, 167. 

Democracy, 22K222 ; fitvonrabfeto 

friendships, 2^4. 
Demodocns, 197. 
Desires twofold, 82 ; rules eonons- 

ing the, 85. 
Diagrams, 46, 62, 125, 127, 129. 
Diametrical conjunction, 129. 
Dionysius, 234, n. 
Due to be given to aU, 237. 
ActXoi, 73. 
LiaBiaiQt 42, «. 
Liavoia^ 152, n. 
^ucaioVf its etymology, 127. 
AiKaioirpdyrifia and ducaUaiia, 137. 
AvvafiiQ, 2, n., 254, n. 
AifffKoKoit 107. 


Education, early, important, 35,37; 
to be enforced by law, 287 ; neces- 
sary for adults, ib, ; paUic and 
private compared, 289. 

Effeminacy, 194. 

Empedocles, 184, 186, 205. 

Ends, different, 1 ; of two lands, 2, 
and n. ; threefold, l4. 

Endymion, 283. 

Energy, 2, n., 24, 25 ; and habit re- 
ciprocal, 37. 

Envy, 49. 

Equality, how produced, 130 ; con- 
ducive to permanence, 209. 

Equity, 144 ; its relation to justice, 
145 ; use of, 146 ; definition, U. 

Ethics, three treatises on, 1, fi«. « 
political treatise, 3. 

Eudoxus, 28, 262, «c. 

Euripus, 245. 

Euripides, 204; Alcmseon, 55 and*. 
Cresphontes, 58, n. ; Bellerophoi 
or Alcmena, 140, n. ; PhilocteteB, 

Evenus, 201. 

Exactness depends upon the subject- 
matter, 4 ; how far to be required, 
ib., 36 ; errors regarding, ib. 

Excess and defect fatal to Tirtne. 35 : 
admitted by actions, 36. 

Experience in politics useful, 290* 



External goods, 20, 24, 284. 
Extremes compared, 50; with the 

means, 51. 
E7pwv, 102, n. , 109. 
*Epyov of man, 15, 16 ; defined ac> 

cording to energy and excellence, 

16 ; kv pi<p TiKtitp, 17. 
EifPovXia, 167. 
Evvoca, 212, 243. 
EiTpdmXoi, 112. 
^Udic and dpftricoi difier, 109. 


Facts to be known before reasons, 
6, 17. 

Favour, how measured, 23C. 

Fear, 71. 

Fellow-feeling, 169. 

Flattery, 49. 

Friend defined, 241 ; a second self, 

FViends, how many are proper, 256 
et seq. ; when needed, 258 et »eg. 

Friendship, 49, 202, n.; natural, 
203 ; supersedes justice, 204 ; 
whether it is resemblance, ib, « its 
connection with love, 205 ; three 
kinds of, 206 et seq. ; of the 
young, old, &c., ib.., 208; rare 
and a work of time, 209 ; of lovers 
not permanent, 210 ; of the good 
alone safe, ib. ; other distinctions 
of, 211 et seq,., 213 et seq. ; be- 
tween unequal persons, 215 ; how 
made equal, 216; consists in 
loving rather than being loved, 
217 ; its conditions, ib. ; ^id. to 
j^priaifiovy 218 ; political or social, 
219 et seq. : under forms of go- 
vernment, 223 et seq. ; of com- 
panions, relations, &c., 224 et 
seq. s of parents, brothers, 225 ; 
of children, of men towards the 
gods, of husband and wife, 226 ; 
of utility subject to disputes, 227 
et seq, ; ^id. rh xpJ7(Tt/zoi/ twofold, 
legal, 228; moral, 229; prefe- 
rence its measure, 230 ; complains 
}q unequal friendship, ik m 

also in states, 231 ; preservatives 
of, 233 et seq. « when to be dis- 
solved, 238 et seq. moral advan- 
tage of, 260. 


Genus, how ascertained, 152. 

Glaucus, 140. 

** Good,'' the, that at which all things 
aim, 1, 5, 14 ; of man, its end, uti- 
lity, and bearing on the treatise on 
Etiiics, 3 ; a universal, not accord- 
ing to one idea, 9 ; how predicated, 
10; of two classes, 12 ; analogically 
considered, ib. ; the most final, 14 ; 
general sketch or outline of the, 1 7 ; 
three classes of, and opinions upon 
each, 18, 19 ; an active virtue, 19; 
essentially pleasant, ib. / external, 
contributes to happiness, 20 ; the, 
are friends absolutely, 209 ; to 
themselves, 240 ; how affected, 
241 ; ways of becoming, 287 ; 
good-will, 243, 244. 

Government, civil, its three forms, 
and their deflections, 220 ; of a 
family and a state bear analogy, 

Graces, temples of the, 129 and n. 

rAi(Txpot, 91. 

Tvwfirif 168. 

Tvwpiua, either dirXwc or i^fiXv, 6. 


Habit, 33, n., 37, 41 ; less volun- 
tary than action, 70. 

Happiness the chief good, 5, 275; 
different views of, ib., 7 ; itspne- 
oognita, or requisites, 15 — 21, 
276 ; how acquired, 21 ; a divine 
gift, ib. ! not a dvvafiiQ, nor of rd 
kiraiverd, ib.; contemplative, 278; 
most near to a divine life, 280 ; 
intellectual superior to moral, 281. 

Happy, the man, requires friends. 
252; ofwhatkmd, 2&3. 

Heraclitos, 185. 



Hermcum, 76 and n. 

Hcdod, 7, 204, 234. 

Homer, 52, 53, 64, 74, 75, 77, 82, 

93, 96, 101, 140, 177, 192, 203, 

204, 222, 237, 288. 
Homer's " Margites," 160. 


Ideal good not useful, 13. 

Ideas of Plato, 9 «. ; rejected by 
Aristotle, 10, 13. 

Ignorantly, and through ignorance, 
how they differ, 57. 

Ignorance of two kinds, 57 ; when 
pardonable, 58. 

Illiberality, 90 ; incurable, 91 ; its 
kinds, ib. 

Impudence, 49. 

Incontinence, how it may exist with 
knowledge, 182 et seq. ; with what 
subjects conversant, 186 et seq. ; 
classed with intemperance, 187; 
of anger, 191 ; differs from effemi- 
nacy, 194 ; its divisions, 195 ; 
differs from intemperance, 196 et 
seq. : from obstinacy, 198 et seq. ; 
incompatible with prudence, 200 ; 
differs from vice, ib, : of the cho- 
leric, 201. 

Indignation, 49. 

Induction, 155, n. 

Injure, a man cannot himself, 140, 
146, et seq. 

Injury, whether worse to do or re- 
ceive, 148 ; its conditions, 141 
and n., et seq. 

Injustice, 116 et seq.^ 132 ; parti- 
cular, 120. 

Intellect, 152 et seq. 

Intelligence, 167 ; its object, 168. 

Intemperance more voluntary than 
cowardice, 84 ; its effects, 158, 

Intimacy, most de&irable for friends. 

Intuition, 159, 169, n. . its kinds, 

Involuntary actions, 54; how resem- 
bling voluntary, 55 ; how received. 

t^ rd di' dyvoiav, 56 ; ncm-va- 
luntanr. 57 ; tested by repentance, 
Irascibility, its divisiotis, 106. 



Just acts and men, 40 ; mistake 
thereupon, 41. 

Justice, 49, n., 116, andn. , three 
requisites of, 117 ; and injastice, 
how meant, ib, : connection of 
with law, 118 ; universal, the most 
excellent of virtues, 1 19 ; differs 
from perfect virtue, 120 ; from 
other virtues, 132 ; whether easy, 
144; particular, 120 etseq,; dis- 
tributive, 122, 123, et seq. s cor- 
rective, 123, 126 ; in transacdons, 
125 et seq, ; political, 133 and »..• 
economical, 135 ; natnral and 
legal, 135 et seq, ; b^ore gene- 
rosity, 236. 

Juvenal, 118, n. 


Kings cannot be prodigals, 89. 

YillltlKiQ, 91. 

KivfioiQi 268, ft. 
KpjjTTtc, 269, n. 
KvfJiivoTrpicrrrjgt 91. 


Lacedsemonians, 29, 71, 101, 178( 
288 ; their dress. 111. 

Law, how connected with justioCv 
118; its object, 119. 

Laws, collections of, useful, 291. 

Legislators, 34 ; how to be taoght, 

Lesbian buildings, 146. 

Liberality, 47, 86 ; its purpose, mo- 
tive, and manner, 87 ; of recetr- 
ing, of giving, 88 ; mostly among 
those who inherit wealth, ib, s dif- 
ferent from prodigality, 89. 



lives not condacive to happiness, 
which, 7, 8. 

Loss and gain, 127. 

Love, its objects, 205 ; of benefac- 
tors strongest, 246. 

A.€irov|07(a, 230, n. 

\.6yov Ix^tv used ambiguously, 31, n. 

A-tuvoivTriQ, 92. 


Magnanimity, 47, 97, and n. ; con- 
versant with honour and goodness, 
98 ; the ornament of virtues, 99 ; 
variously considered, ib,, 102. 

Magnificence, 47, 93; public and 
private, 94 — 96. 

Malevolence. 49. 

Man, the origin of his own actions, 

Mean in all things, and this twofold, 
43 ; difficult, 45 ; not found in 
every action or passion, t6.; habits 
enumerated, 46 ; compared with 
the extremes, 50; rules. for dis- 
covering, 52 ; difficulty of, ib. 

Meanness, 93, 96. 

Measure, common, 130 ; is XP^*^ ^^ 
money, ib. 

Meekness, its excess and dsfect, 105. 

Mentiens fallacia, 181. 

Mercenaries not brave, 79. 

Milesians, 197. 

Modesty, 97. 

Monarchy, 221. 

Money, 130 ; a pledge, 131. 

Money-getting, 8. 

Multitude, led by fear, 286. 

Mysteries, 58. 

Maxrtimoc, 28, n. 

MiKpoybvxoc, 97, 102. 

MiKTai 'jrpd^eiQf 54. 


Necessity, two kinds of, 155, n 
Neoptolemus, 181, 199. 
Nicomachus, I, ». 
Niobe, 188. 

Novices, unfit students of ethicsj. 6. 
Numbers, the Pjrthagorean and 

PJa'Lonic ideas concerning, 10, 

and n. 
NoDff, 151, 152, 159. 


Obstinacy, 198; its divisions, ib. 

et seq. 
Offences, their three kinds, 137 ; how 

determined, 138. 
Oligarchy, 221. 
Olympic games, 19. 
'OfiSvoiaj 245. 
"OpeCtc, 152. 


Passions, 41. 

Pericles, 157. 

Persian government, 222. 

Phalaris, 190. 

Philoctetes, 195. 

Philoxenus, 81. 

Pittacus, 245, n. 

Plato, 1, n. ; his theory of ideas, 6. 
and n. ; his objections to Eudoxus, 
263 ; Philebus, 261, n. ; arguments 
on pleasure refated, 265, n. 

Pleasant things, 20; not compul- 
sory, 56. 

Pleasantness, 48. 

Pleasure and pain the test of habits 
37 ; pleasure leads most men astray, 
65 ; whydiscu8S()d, 261 ; erroneous 
ideas of, ib. ; opinions concerning, 
262 et aeq. ; defined, 268 ; per- 
fects every energy, ib. et aeq, ; and 
aloQriOLQ, didvoia, and ^eiapiOf 
270 ; whether loved for the love ojf 
life, or vice versdy 271 ; true, 275. 

Pleasures, bow divided, 80 ; of sight, 
hearing, ib.; smell, taste, touch, 
81, 82 ; two kinds of, 187 ; their 
excess, 188 ; differ in species, 272 
et seq. ; opposite are like pains, 
273 ; differ in goodness, ib. s io 
purity, 274 ; among men and ani- 
mals, ib. 



PootBS, icfages of. 190. 
Prefermee, ddiberate, how distin- 
gmAed from "the ^ohmcajr." 

59 ; not lxi^fua,3rvftac,^t*.\i|^C* 
or ioKoj 60 ; defijoed, 61, 61 ; 
oomtitiites an injnnr, 139. 

Priam, 22, 26, 177. 

Priodpks, how peroared, 17. 

ProdigalitT. 86, 90. 

Propnety,' 93. 

Protagoras. 234. 

Proverbs, 52, 119, 136, 181. 

Prudence, 156 ; different from know- 
ledge, 157 ; from art, 158 ; its 
distinctions, 163, «. .- not science, 
165 ; its atilitj, 171 ; inseparable 
from moral virtoe, 17$. 

Tlavtcd, 75, it. 

Ilapa<Tei<TavTa ^cvyciv, 98, n. 

n tptaxra, 20, n. 

IloiriiTic and irpa^iQ, 155. 

Tlopvo^oiTKoif 192. 

^twuXoif 91. 

^SkriiTtQ and ^cXm, 212. 

4>v(Ticoc, 164. 

^^0ur/ia,135, n. 


Reasoning of two kinds, 6. 

Reason, not man, the mler, 134 ; 
right, considered, 150 ; joined with 
all virtues, i6.; difficult to dis- 
cover, ib.f «. 

Receiver, duty of the, 229. 

Redemption, price of, 135, n. 

Relative duties, 236. 

Repentarace the test of an involuntary 
action, 57. 

Retaliation, 128 ; Kar'araAoyiav, ib. 

Return to be made according to abi- 
Uty, 231. 

Rhadamanthian rule, 128. 

Ribaldry, 48. 

'Pd^cujaiCt 269, n. 

Satyrus, 188. 
Science, 155. 

S<rrthiaiis punished by Tems, 195, « 

Sdf-kyte, 242, 248, «.. its kinds 
j 249 ei teq. 

[Shame, adapted to youth, not the 
i proof of a good naan, 114. 
; Simonides, 89. 

: Social life, the knowledge of, 161 
differs from prudence, 163. 

Socrates, 111, 161, «., 175. 179 
186, 75, n, 

Sokm, 22, 284. 

Sophists, 111, jt., 290. 
i Sophocles, 181, 199. 
. Soul, its condition alter death, 23, n. 
\ ite divisions, 29, 30. 32, n.; its 
I virtues, t^.,- XoyiKri and aXoyoq 
j 30 ; its qualities, how divided, 151 
: Speusippus, 11. 

Stature essential to beauty, 97, «. 

Stoics, 8, n. 

Student, of what kind fit for ethici 
4, 5, 6. 

Suicide an act of cowardice, 74. 

Synthesis, 6, n. 

^vvaXXdyfiaTaf 123. 

Zco^poervvij, 104, n. 


Tact, 112. 

Teaching, two methods of, 8, n. 

Temperance, 46, 80; how different 

from courage, 83; described, i*.- 

questions on, 179 et sea, 
Thales, 162. 
Theocritus, 77. 
Theodectes, 195. 
Theognis, 254, 285. 
Theory of virtue not sufficient, 285. 
Thermopylae, treatment of the Persian 

soldiers at, 75, n. 
Timocracy, 221, 222. 
Tragedies, 27. 

Trains worn by the Asiatics, 95, n. 
Transactions, twofold, 123. 
Truth, its mean, excess, and defect, 

48, 109, 152. 
Tyranny, 221 ; adverse to friendships 

224, /3ioc tbXsios, 17, «., 22. 
Tifirjj 98, «., distinguished from r^ 

KaXbVf 103, n. 



ToKiVTalt 92. 
T^ ri ijv (Ivai, 45, n. 
Tptiipapxoi, 93, ft. 
Beoipoi, 93, n. 
Bpao-eTc, 73. 


XTlysses, 199. 

Unanimity, 244 ; political friendship, 

Unhappiness produced by fiiffiyrd 

and 4>av\af 26. 


Vdin man, who, 97, 103. 

Value, how fixed, 234. 

Vicious, over fond of society, 242. 

Virtue, reasons for considering, 29 ; 
human, td. ; of the soul, td. ; 
various dhritions of, 30 et teq,; 
how produced and increased, 33 ; 
moral virtue not innate, 46, ; and 
vice arise from the same cause, 
34 ; how destroyed and how pre- 
served, 35 ; conversant with plea- 
Kure and pain, 37, 38 ; not dwd- 
Ocia, 38 ; acquired by virtuous 

actions, 39; but not so in arts, 
40 ; its genus, 41 ; and vice not 
9radi| nor dvvdfisiQ, but c^eic* 42 
(see n. ib.) ; a mean state, 43 ; its 
mean relative, 44 ; defined, 45 ; an 
aKpoTfig, 45 ; three nameless so- 
cial virtues, and others, 48 ; how 
opposed to vices, 50; conversant 
with what, 54 ; and vice voluntary , 
66, and ».; objections to this state- 
ment, 67 — 70 ; the nameless one 
conversant with the desire of 
honour, 103 ; social, 107 ; its mean 
is 0iXta dvev rov (rrepyuv, 108 ; 
proper, 174; natural, ib.; heroic, 

Virtues of the soul, how divided, 
151 ; the five intellectual, 154. 

Volition, whether it has the real or 
the apparent good for its object, 

Voluntary and involuntary, 54, 58, 


Wif dom, 160, and n. ; its kinds, ib. 
how compounded, ib, ; objections 
to its utility considered, 17let8e^ 

Wit, 48 1 ite kinds. 112. 113. 







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