BOOK I
1
EVERY art and every inquiry, and similarly every action and pursuit,
is thought to aim at some good; and for this reason the good has
rightly been declared to be that at which all things aim. But a
certain difference is found among ends; some are activities, others
are products apart from the activities that produce them. Where
there are ends apart from the actions, it is the nature of the
products to be better than the activities. Now, as there are many
actions, arts, and sciences, their ends also are many; the end of
the medical art is health, that of shipbuilding a vessel, that of
strategy victory, that of economics wealth. But where such arts fall
under a single capacity- as bridle-making and the other arts concerned
with the equipment of horses fall under the art of riding, and this
and every military action under strategy, in the same way other arts
fall under yet others- in all of these the ends of the master arts
are to be preferred to all the subordinate ends; for it is for the
sake of the former that the latter are pursued. It makes no difference
whether the activities themselves are the ends of the actions, or
something else apart from the activities, as in the case of the
sciences just mentioned.
2
If, then, there is some end of the things we do, which we desire for
its own sake (everything else being desired for the sake of this), and
if we do not choose everything for the sake of something else (for
at that rate the process would go on to infinity, so that our desire
would be empty and vain), clearly this must be the good and the
chief good. Will not the knowledge of it, then, have a great influence
on life? Shall we not, like archers who have a mark to aim at, be more
likely to hit upon what is right? If so, we must try, in outline at
least, to determine what it is, and of which of the sciences or
capacities it is the object. It would seem to belong to the most
authoritative art and that which is most truly the master art. And
politics appears to be of this nature; for it is this that ordains
which of the sciences should be studied in a state, and which each
class of citizens should learn and up to what point they should
learn them; and we see even the most highly esteemed of capacities
to fall under this, e.g. strategy, economics, rhetoric; now, since
politics uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it
legislates as to what we are to do and what we are to abstain from,
the end of this science must include those of the others, so that this
end must be the good for man. For even if the end is the same for a
single man and for a state, that of the state seems at all events
something greater and more complete whether to attain or to
preserve; though it is worth while to attain the end merely for one
man, it is finer and more godlike to attain it for a nation or for
city-states. These, then, are the ends at which our inquiry aims,
since it is political science, in one sense of that term.
3
Our discussion will be adequate if it has as much clearness as the
subject-matter admits of, for precision is not to be sought for
alike in all discussions, any more than in all the products of the
crafts. Now fine and just actions, which political science
investigates, admit of much variety and fluctuation of opinion, so
that they may be thought to exist only by convention, and not by
nature. And goods also give rise to a similar fluctuation because they
bring harm to many people; for before now men have been undone by
reason of their wealth, and others by reason of their courage. We must
be content, then, in speaking of such subjects and with such premisses
to indicate the truth roughly and in outline, and in speaking about
things which are only for the most part true and with premisses of the
same kind to reach conclusions that are no better. In the same spirit,
therefore, should each type of statement be received; for it is the
mark of an educated man to look for precision in each class of
things just so far as the nature of the subject admits; it is
evidently equally foolish to accept probable reasoning from a
mathematician and to demand from a rhetorician scientific proofs.
Now each man judges well the things he knows, and of these he is a
good judge. And so the man who has been educated in a subject is a
good judge of that subject, and the man who has received an
all-round education is a good judge in general. Hence a young man is
not a proper hearer of lectures on political science; for he is
inexperienced in the actions that occur in life, but its discussions
start from these and are about these; and, further, since he tends
to follow his passions, his study will be vain and unprofitable,
because the end aimed at is not knowledge but action. And it makes
no difference whether he is young in years or youthful in character;
the defect does not depend on time, but on his living, and pursuing
each successive object, as passion directs. For to such persons, as to
the incontinent, knowledge brings no profit; but to those who desire
and act in accordance with a rational principle knowledge about such
matters will be of great benefit.
These remarks about the student, the sort of treatment to be
expected, and the purpose of the inquiry, may be taken as our preface.
4
Let us resume our inquiry and state, in view of the fact that all
knowledge and every pursuit aims at some good, what it is that we
say political science aims at and what is the highest of all goods
achievable by action. Verbally there is very general agreement; for
both the general run of men and people of superior refinement say that
it is happiness, and identify living well and doing well with being
happy; but with regard to what happiness is they differ, and the
many do not give the same account as the wise. For the former think it
is some plain and obvious thing, like pleasure, wealth, or honour;
they differ, however, from one another- and often even the same man
identifies it with different things, with health when he is ill,
with wealth when he is poor; but, conscious of their ignorance, they
admire those who proclaim some great ideal that is above their
comprehension. Now some thought that apart from these many goods there
is another which is self-subsistent and causes the goodness of all
these as well. To examine all the opinions that have been held were
perhaps somewhat fruitless; enough to examine those that are most
prevalent or that seem to be arguable.
Let us not fail to notice, however, that there is a difference
between arguments from and those to the first principles. For Plato,
too, was right in raising this question and asking, as he used to
do, 'are we on the way from or to the first principles?' There is a
difference, as there is in a race-course between the course from the
judges to the turning-point and the way back. For, while we must begin
with what is known, things are objects of knowledge in two senses-
some to us, some without qualification. Presumably, then, we must
begin with things known to us. Hence any one who is to listen
intelligently to lectures about what is noble and just, and generally,
about the subjects of political science must have been brought up in
good habits. For the fact is the starting-point, and if this is
sufficiently plain to him, he will not at the start need the reason as
well; and the man who has been well brought up has or can easily get
startingpoints. And as for him who neither has nor can get them, let
him hear the words of Hesiod:
Far best is he who knows all things himself;
Good, he that hearkens when men counsel right;
But he who neither knows, nor lays to heart
Another's wisdom, is a useless wight.
5
Let us, however, resume our discussion from the point at which we
digressed. To judge from the lives that men lead, most men, and men of
the most vulgar type, seem (not without some ground) to identify the
good, or happiness, with pleasure; which is the reason why they love
the life of enjoyment. For there are, we may say, three prominent
types of life- that just mentioned, the political, and thirdly the
contemplative life. Now the mass of mankind are evidently quite
slavish in their tastes, preferring a life suitable to beasts, but
they get some ground for their view from the fact that many of those
in high places share the tastes of Sardanapallus. A consideration of
the prominent types of life shows that people of superior refinement
and of active disposition identify happiness with honour; for this is,
roughly speaking, the end of the political life. But it seems too
superficial to be what we are looking for, since it is thought to
depend on those who bestow honour rather than on him who receives
it, but the good we divine to be something proper to a man and not
easily taken from him. Further, men seem to pursue honour in order
that they may be assured of their goodness; at least it is by men of
practical wisdom that they seek to be honoured, and among those who
know them, and on the ground of their virtue; clearly, then, according
to them, at any rate, virtue is better. And perhaps one might even
suppose this to be, rather than honour, the end of the political life.
But even this appears somewhat incomplete; for possession of virtue
seems actually compatible with being asleep, or with lifelong
inactivity, and, further, with the greatest sufferings and
misfortunes; but a man who was living so no one would call happy,
unless he were maintaining a thesis at all costs. But enough of
this; for the subject has been sufficiently treated even in the
current discussions. Third comes the contemplative life, which we
shall consider later.
The life of money-making is one undertaken under compulsion, and
wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking; for it is merely
useful and for the sake of something else. And so one might rather
take the aforenamed objects to be ends; for they are loved for
themselves. But it is evident that not even these are ends; yet many
arguments have been thrown away in support of them. Let us leave
this subject, then.
6
We had perhaps better consider the universal good and discuss
thoroughly what is meant by it, although such an inquiry is made an
uphill one by the fact that the Forms have been introduced by
friends of our own. Yet it would perhaps be thought to be better,
indeed to be our duty, for the sake of maintaining the truth even to
destroy what touches us closely, especially as we are philosophers
or lovers of wisdom; for, while both are dear, piety requires us to
honour truth above our friends.
The men who introduced this doctrine did not posit Ideas of
classes within which they recognized priority and posteriority
(which is the reason why they did not maintain the existence of an
Idea embracing all numbers); but the term 'good' is used both in the
category of substance and in that of quality and in that of
relation, and that which is per se, i.e. substance, is prior in nature
to the relative (for the latter is like an off shoot and accident of
being); so that there could not be a common Idea set over all these
goods. Further, since 'good' has as many senses as 'being' (for it
is predicated both in the category of substance, as of God and of
reason, and in quality, i.e. of the virtues, and in quantity, i.e.
of that which is moderate, and in relation, i.e. of the useful, and in
time, i.e. of the right opportunity, and in place, i.e. of the right
locality and the like), clearly it cannot be something universally
present in all cases and single; for then it could not have been
predicated in all the categories but in one only. Further, since of
the things answering to one Idea there is one science, there would
have been one science of all the goods; but as it is there are many
sciences even of the things that fall under one category, e.g. of
opportunity, for opportunity in war is studied by strategics and in
disease by medicine, and the moderate in food is studied by medicine
and in exercise by the science of gymnastics. And one might ask the
question, what in the world they mean by 'a thing itself', is (as is
the case) in 'man himself' and in a particular man the account of
man is one and the same. For in so far as they are man, they will in
no respect differ; and if this is so, neither will 'good itself' and
particular goods, in so far as they are good. But again it will not be
good any the more for being eternal, since that which lasts long is no
whiter than that which perishes in a day. The Pythagoreans seem to
give a more plausible account of the good, when they place the one
in the column of goods; and it is they that Speusippus seems to have
followed.
But let us discuss these matters elsewhere; an objection to what
we have said, however, may be discerned in the fact that the
Platonists have not been speaking about all goods, and that the
goods that are pursued and loved for themselves are called good by
reference to a single Form, while those which tend to produce or to
preserve these somehow or to prevent their contraries are called so by
reference to these, and in a secondary sense. Clearly, then, goods
must be spoken of in two ways, and some must be good in themselves,
the others by reason of these. Let us separate, then, things good in
themselves from things useful, and consider whether the former are
called good by reference to a single Idea. What sort of goods would
one call good in themselves? Is it those that are pursued even when
isolated from others, such as intelligence, sight, and certain
pleasures and honours? Certainly, if we pursue these also for the sake
of something else, yet one would place them among things good in
themselves. Or is nothing other than the Idea of good good in
itself? In that case the Form will be empty. But if the things we have
named are also things good in themselves, the account of the good will
have to appear as something identical in them all, as that of
whiteness is identical in snow and in white lead. But of honour,
wisdom, and pleasure, just in respect of their goodness, the
accounts are distinct and diverse. The good, therefore, is not some
common element answering to one Idea.
But what then do we mean by the good? It is surely not like the
things that only chance to have the same name. Are goods one, then, by
being derived from one good or by all contributing to one good, or are
they rather one by analogy? Certainly as sight is in the body, so is
reason in the soul, and so on in other cases. But perhaps these
subjects had better be dismissed for the present; for perfect
precision about them would be more appropriate to another branch of
philosophy. And similarly with regard to the Idea; even if there is
some one good which is universally predicable of goods or is capable
of separate and independent existence, clearly it could not be
achieved or attained by man; but we are now seeking something
attainable. Perhaps, however, some one might think it worth while to
recognize this with a view to the goods that are attainable and
achievable; for having this as a sort of pattern we shall know
better the goods that are good for us, and if we know them shall
attain them. This argument has some plausibility, but seems to clash
with the procedure of the sciences; for all of these, though they
aim at some good and seek to supply the deficiency of it, leave on one
side the knowledge of the good. Yet that all the exponents of the arts
should be ignorant of, and should not even seek, so great an aid is
not probable. It is hard, too, to see how a weaver or a carpenter will
be benefited in regard to his own craft by knowing this 'good itself',
or how the man who has viewed the Idea itself will be a better
doctor or general thereby. For a doctor seems not even to study health
in this way, but the health of man, or perhaps rather the health of
a particular man; it is individuals that he is healing. But enough
of these topics.
7
Let us again return to the good we are seeking, and ask what it
can be. It seems different in different actions and arts; it is
different in medicine, in strategy, and in the other arts likewise.
What then is the good of each? Surely that for whose sake everything
else is done. In medicine this is health, in strategy victory, in
architecture a house, in any other sphere something else, and in every
action and pursuit the end; for it is for the sake of this that all
men do whatever else they do. Therefore, if there is an end for all
that we do, this will be the good achievable by action, and if there
are more than one, these will be the goods achievable by action.
So the argument has by a different course reached the same point;
but we must try to state this even more clearly. Since there are
evidently more than one end, and we choose some of these (e.g. wealth,
flutes, and in general instruments) for the sake of something else,
clearly not all ends are final ends; but the chief good is evidently
something final. Therefore, if there is only one final end, this
will be what we are seeking, and if there are more than one, the
most final of these will be what we are seeking. Now we call that
which is in itself worthy of pursuit more final than that which is
worthy of pursuit for the sake of something else, and that which is
never desirable for the sake of something else more final than the
things that are desirable both in themselves and for the sake of
that other thing, and therefore we call final without qualification
that which is always desirable in itself and never for the sake of
something else.
Now such a thing happiness, above all else, is held to be; for
this we choose always for self and never for the sake of something
else, but honour, pleasure, reason, and every virtue we choose
indeed for themselves (for if nothing resulted from them we should
still choose each of them), but we choose them also for the sake of
happiness, judging that by means of them we shall be happy. Happiness,
on the other hand, no one chooses for the sake of these, nor, in
general, for anything other than itself.
From the point of view of self-sufficiency the same result seems
to follow; for the final good is thought to be self-sufficient. Now by
self-sufficient we do not mean that which is sufficient for a man by
himself, for one who lives a solitary life, but also for parents,
children, wife, and in general for his friends and fellow citizens,
since man is born for citizenship. But some limit must be set to this;
for if we extend our requirement to ancestors and descendants and
friends' friends we are in for an infinite series. Let us examine this
question, however, on another occasion; the self-sufficient we now
define as that which when isolated makes life desirable and lacking in
nothing; and such we think happiness to be; and further we think it
most desirable of all things, without being counted as one good
thing among others- if it were so counted it would clearly be made
more desirable by the addition of even the least of goods; for that
which is added becomes an excess of goods, and of goods the greater
is always more desirable. Happiness, then, is something final and
self-sufficient, and is the end of action.
Presumably, however, to say that happiness is the chief good seems a
platitude, and a clearer account of what it is still desired. This
might perhaps be given, if we could first ascertain the function of
man. For just as for a flute-player, a sculptor, or an artist, and, in
general, for all things that have a function or activity, the good and
the 'well' is thought to reside in the function, so would it seem to
be for man, if he has a function. Have the carpenter, then, and the
tanner certain functions or activities, and has man none? Is he born
without a function? Or as eye, hand, foot, and in general each of
the parts evidently has a function, may one lay it down that man
similarly has a function apart from all these? What then can this
be? Life seems to be common even to plants, but we are seeking what is
peculiar to man. Let us exclude, therefore, the life of nutrition
and growth. Next there would be a life of perception, but it also
seems to be common even to the horse, the ox, and every animal.
There remains, then, an active life of the element that has a rational
principle; of this, one part has such a principle in the sense of
being obedient to one, the other in the sense of possessing one and
exercising thought. And, as 'life of the rational element' also has
two meanings, we must state that life in the sense of activity is what
we mean; for this seems to be the more proper sense of the term. Now
if the function of man is an activity of soul which follows or implies
a rational principle, and if we say 'so-and-so-and 'a good
so-and-so' have a function which is the same in kind, e.g. a lyre, and
a good lyre-player, and so without qualification in all cases,
eminence in respect of goodness being idded to the name of the
function (for the function of a lyre-player is to play the lyre, and
that of a good lyre-player is to do so well): if this is the case,
and we state the function of man to be a certain kind of life, and
this to be an activity or actions of the soul implying a rational
principle, and the function of a good man to be the good and noble
performance of these, and if any action is well performed when it is
performed in accordance with the appropriate excellence: if this is
the case, human good turns out to be activity of soul in accordance
with virtue, and if there are more than one virtue, in accordance with
the best and most complete.
But we must add 'in a complete life.' For one swallow does not
make a summer, nor does one day; and so too one day, or a short
time, does not make a man blessed and happy.
Let this serve as an outline of the good; for we must presumably
first sketch it roughly, and then later fill in the details. But it
would seem that any one is capable of carrying on and articulating
what has once been well outlined, and that time is a good discoverer
or partner in such a work; to which facts the advances of the arts are
due; for any one can add what is lacking. And we must also remember
what has been said before, and not look for precision in all things
alike, but in each class of things such precision as accords with
the subject-matter, and so much as is appropriate to the inquiry.
For a carpenter and a geometer investigate the right angle in
different ways; the former does so in so far as the right angle is
useful for his work, while the latter inquires what it is or what sort
of thing it is; for he is a spectator of the truth. We must act in the
same way, then, in all other matters as well, that our main task may
not be subordinated to minor questions. Nor must we demand the cause
in all matters alike; it is enough in some cases that the fact be well
established, as in the case of the first principles; the fact is the
primary thing or first principle. Now of first principles we see
some by induction, some by perception, some by a certain
habituation, and others too in other ways. But each set of
principles we must try to investigate in the natural way, and we
must take pains to state them definitely, since they have a great
influence on what follows. For the beginning is thought to be more
than half of the whole, and many of the questions we ask are cleared
up by it.
8
We must consider it, however, in the light not only of our
conclusion and our premisses, but also of what is commonly said
about it; for with a true view all the data harmonize, but with a
false one the facts soon clash. Now goods have been divided into three
classes, and some are described as external, others as relating to
soul or to body; we call those that relate to soul most properly and
truly goods, and psychical actions and activities we class as relating
to soul. Therefore our account must be sound, at least according to
this view, which is an old one and agreed on by philosophers. It is
correct also in that we identify the end with certain actions and
activities; for thus it falls among goods of the soul and not among
external goods. Another belief which harmonizes with our account is
that the happy man lives well and does well; for we have practically
defined happiness as a sort of good life and good action. The
characteristics that are looked for in happiness seem also, all of
them, to belong to what we have defined happiness as being. For some
identify happiness with virtue, some with practical wisdom, others
with a kind of philosophic wisdom, others with these, or one of these,
accompanied by pleasure or not without pleasure; while others
include also external prosperity. Now some of these views have been
held by many men and men of old, others by a few eminent persons;
and it is not probable that either of these should be entirely
mistaken, but rather that they should be right in at least some one
respect or even in most respects.
With those who identify happiness with virtue or some one virtue our
account is in harmony; for to virtue belongs virtuous activity. But it
makes, perhaps, no small difference whether we place the chief good in
possession or in use, in state of mind or in activity. For the state
of mind may exist without producing any good result, as in a man who
is asleep or in some other way quite inactive, but the activity
cannot; for one who has the activity will of necessity be acting,
and acting well. And as in the Olympic Games it is not the most
beautiful and the strongest that are crowned but those who compete
(for it is some of these that are victorious), so those who act win,
and rightly win, the noble and good things in life.
Their life is also in itself pleasant. For pleasure is a state of
soul, and to each man that which he is said to be a lover of is
pleasant; e.g. not only is a horse pleasant to the lover of horses,
and a spectacle to the lover of sights, but also in the same way
just acts are pleasant to the lover of justice and in general virtuous
acts to the lover of virtue. Now for most men their pleasures are in
conflict with one another because these are not by nature pleasant,
but the lovers of what is noble find pleasant the things that are by
nature pleasant; and virtuous actions are such, so that these are
pleasant for such men as well as in their own nature. Their life,
therefore, has no further need of pleasure as a sort of adventitious
charm, but has its pleasure in itself. For, besides what we have said,
the man who does not rejoice in noble actions is not even good;
since no one would call a man just who did not enjoy acting justly,
nor any man liberal who did not enjoy liberal actions; and similarly
in all other cases. If this is so, virtuous actions must be in
themselves pleasant. But they are also good and noble, and have each
of these attributes in the highest degree, since the good man judges
well about these attributes; his judgement is such as we have
described. Happiness then is the best, noblest, and most pleasant
thing in the world, and these attributes are not severed as in the
inscription at Delos-
Most noble is that which is justest, and best is health;
But pleasantest is it to win what we love.
For all these properties belong to the best activities; and these,
or one- the best- of these, we identify with happiness.
Yet evidently, as we said, it needs the external goods as well;
for it is impossible, or not easy, to do noble acts without the proper
equipment. In many actions we use friends and riches and political
power as instruments; and there are some things the lack of which
takes the lustre from happiness, as good birth, goodly children,
beauty; for the man who is very ugly in appearance or ill-born or
solitary and childless is not very likely to be happy, and perhaps a
man would be still less likely if he had thoroughly bad children or
friends or had lost good children or friends by death. As we said,
then, happiness seems to need this sort of prosperity in addition; for
which reason some identify happiness with good fortune, though
others identify it with virtue.
9
For this reason also the question is asked, whether happiness is
to be acquired by learning or by habituation or some other sort of
training, or comes in virtue of some divine providence or again by
chance. Now if there is any gift of the gods to men, it is
reasonable that happiness should be god-given, and most surely
god-given of all human things inasmuch as it is the best. But this
question would perhaps be more appropriate to another inquiry;
happiness seems, however, even if it is not god-sent but comes as a
result of virtue and some process of learning or training, to be among
the most godlike things; for that which is the prize and end of virtue
seems to be the best thing in the world, and something godlike and
blessed.
It will also on this view be very generally shared; for all who
are not maimed as regards their potentiality for virtue may win it
by a certain kind of study and care. But if it is better to be happy
thus than by chance, it is reasonable that the facts should be so,
since everything that depends on the action of nature is by nature
as good as it can be, and similarly everything that depends on art
or any rational cause, and especially if it depends on the best of all
causes. To entrust to chance what is greatest and most noble would
be a very defective arrangement.
The answer to the question we are asking is plain also from the
definition of happiness; for it has been said to be a virtuous
activity of soul, of a certain kind. Of the remaining goods, some must
necessarily pre-exist as conditions of happiness, and others are
naturally co-operative and useful as instruments. And this will be
found to agree with what we said at the outset; for we stated the
end of political science to be the best end, and political science
spends most of its pains on making the citizens to be of a certain
character, viz. good and capable of noble acts.
It is natural, then, that we call neither ox nor horse nor any other
of the animals happy; for none of them is capable of sharing in such
activity. For this reason also a boy is not happy; for he is not yet
capable of such acts, owing to his age; and boys who are called
happy are being congratulated by reason of the hopes we have for them.
For there is required, as we said, not only complete virtue but also a
complete life, since many changes occur in life, and all manner of
chances, and the most prosperous may fall into great misfortunes in
old age, as is told of Priam in the Trojan Cycle; and one who has
experienced such chances and has ended wretchedly no one calls happy.
10
Must no one at all, then, be called happy while he lives; must we,
as Solon says, see the end? Even if we are to lay down this
doctrine, is it also the case that a man is happy when he is dead?
Or is not this quite absurd, especially for us who say that
happiness is an activity? But if we do not call the dead man happy,
and if Solon does not mean this, but that one can then safely call a
man blessed as being at last beyond evils and misfortunes, this also
affords matter for discussion; for both evil and good are thought to
exist for a dead man, as much as for one who is alive but not aware of
them; e.g. honours and dishonours and the good or bad fortunes of
children and in general of descendants. And this also presents a
problem; for though a man has lived happily up to old age and has
had a death worthy of his life, many reverses may befall his
descendants- some of them may be good and attain the life they
deserve, while with others the opposite may be the case; and clearly
too the degrees of relationship between them and their ancestors may
vary indefinitely. It would be odd, then, if the dead man were to
share in these changes and become at one time happy, at another
wretched; while it would also be odd if the fortunes of the
descendants did not for some time have some effect on the happiness
of their ancestors.
But we must return to our first difficulty; for perhaps by a
consideration of it our present problem might be solved. Now if we
must see the end and only then call a man happy, not as being happy
but as having been so before, surely this is a paradox, that when he
is happy the attribute that belongs to him is not to be truly
predicated of him because we do not wish to call living men happy,
on account of the changes that may befall them, and because we have
assumed happiness to be something permanent and by no means easily
changed, while a single man may suffer many turns of fortune's
wheel. For clearly if we were to keep pace with his fortunes, we
should often call the same man happy and again wretched, making the
happy man out to be chameleon and insecurely based. Or is this keeping
pace with his fortunes quite wrong? Success or failure in life does
not depend on these, but human life, as we said, needs these as mere
additions, while virtuous activities or their opposites are what
constitute happiness or the reverse.
The question we have now discussed confirms our definition. For no
function of man has so much permanence as virtuous activities (these
are thought to be more durable even than knowledge of the sciences),
and of these themselves the most valuable are more durable because
those who are happy spend their life most readily and most
continuously in these; for this seems to be the reason why we do not
forget them. The attribute in question, then, will belong to the happy
man, and he will be happy throughout his life; for always, or by
preference to everything else, he will be engaged in virtuous action
and contemplation, and he will bear the chances of life most nobly and
altogether decorously, if he is 'truly good' and 'foursquare beyond
reproach'.
Now many events happen by chance, and events differing in
importance; small pieces of good fortune or of its opposite clearly do
not weigh down the scales of life one way or the other, but a
multitude of great events if they turn out well will make life happier
(for not only are they themselves such as to add beauty to life, but
the way a man deals with them may be noble and good), while if they
turn out ill they crush and maim happiness; for they both bring pain
with them and hinder many activities. Yet even in these nobility
shines through, when a man bears with resignation many great
misfortunes, not through insensibility to pain but through nobility
and greatness of soul.
If activities are, as we said, what gives life its character, no
happy man can become miserable; for he will never do the acts that are
hateful and mean. For the man who is truly good and wise, we think,
bears all the chances life becomingly and always makes the best of
circumstances, as a good general makes the best military use of the
army at his command and a good shoemaker makes the best shoes out of
the hides that are given him; and so with all other craftsmen. And
if this is the case, the happy man can never become miserable;
though he will not reach blessedness, if he meet with fortunes like
those of Priam.
Nor, again, is he many-coloured and changeable; for neither will
he be moved from his happy state easily or by any ordinary
misadventures, but only by many great ones, nor, if he has had many
great misadventures, will he recover his happiness in a short time,
but if at all, only in a long and complete one in which he has
attained many splendid successes.
When then should we not say that he is happy who is active in
accordance with complete virtue and is sufficiently equipped with
external goods, not for some chance period but throughout a complete
life? Or must we add 'and who is destined to live thus and die as
befits his life'? Certainly the future is obscure to us, while
happiness, we claim, is an end and something in every way final. If
so, we shall call happy those among living men in whom these
conditions are, and are to be, fulfilled- but happy men. So much for
these questions.
11
That the fortunes of descendants and of all a man's friends should
not affect his happiness at all seems a very unfriendly doctrine,
and one opposed to the opinions men hold; but since the events that
happen are numerous and admit of all sorts of difference, and some
come more near to us and others less so, it seems a long- nay, an
infinite- task to discuss each in detail; a general outline will
perhaps suffice. If, then, as some of a man's own misadventures have a
certain weight and influence on life while others are, as it were,
lighter, so too there are differences among the misadventures of our
friends taken as a whole, and it makes a difference whether the
various suffering befall the living or the dead (much more even than
whether lawless and terrible deeds are presupposed in a tragedy or
done on the stage), this difference also must be taken into account;
or rather, perhaps, the fact that doubt is felt whether the dead share
in any good or evil. For it seems, from these considerations, that
even if anything whether good or evil penetrates to them, it must be
something weak and negligible, either in itself or for them, or if
not, at least it must be such in degree and kind as not to make
happy those who are not happy nor to take away their blessedness
from those who are. The good or bad fortunes of friends, then, seem to
have some effects on the dead, but effects of such a kind and degree
as neither to make the happy unhappy nor to produce any other change
of the kind.
12
These questions having been definitely answered, let us consider
whether happiness is among the things that are praised or rather among
the things that are prized; for clearly it is not to be placed among
potentialities. Everything that is praised seems to be praised because
it is of a certain kind and is related somehow to something else;
for we praise the just or brave man and in general both the good man
and virtue itself because of the actions and functions involved, and
we praise the strong man, the good runner, and so on, because he is of
a certain kind and is related in a certain way to something good and
important. This is clear also from the praises of the gods; for it
seems absurd that the gods should be referred to our standard, but
this is done because praise involves a reference, to something else.
But if if praise is for things such as we have described, clearly what
applies to the best things is not praise, but something greater and
better, as is indeed obvious; for what we do to the gods and the
most godlike of men is to call them blessed and happy. And so too with
good things; no one praises happiness as he does justice, but rather
calls it blessed, as being something more divine and better.
Eudoxus also seems to have been right in his method of advocating
the supremacy of pleasure; he thought that the fact that, though a
good, it is not praised indicated it to be better than the things that
are praised, and that this is what God and the good are; for by
reference to these all other things are judged. Praise is
appropriate to virtue, for as a result of virtue men tend to do
noble deeds, but encomia are bestowed on acts, whether of the body
or of the soul. But perhaps nicety in these matters is more proper
to those who have made a study of encomia; to us it is clear from what
has been said that happiness is among the things that are prized and
perfect. It seems to be so also from the fact that it is a first
principle; for it is for the sake of this that we all do all that we
do, and the first principle and cause of goods is, we claim, something
prized and divine.
13
Since happiness is an activity of soul in accordance with perfect
virtue, we must consider the nature of virtue; for perhaps we shall
thus see better the nature of happiness. The true student of politics,
too, is thought to have studied virtue above all things; for he wishes
to make his fellow citizens good and obedient to the laws. As an
example of this we have the lawgivers of the Cretans and the Spartans,
and any others of the kind that there may have been. And if this
inquiry belongs to political science, clearly the pursuit of it will
be in accordance with our original plan. But clearly the virtue we
must study is human virtue; for the good we were seeking was human
good and the happiness human happiness. By human virtue we mean not
that of the body but that of the soul; and happiness also we call an
activity of soul. But if this is so, clearly the student of politics
must know somehow the facts about soul, as the man who is to heal
the eyes or the body as a whole must know about the eyes or the
body; and all the more since politics is more prized and better than
medicine; but even among doctors the best educated spend much labour
on acquiring knowledge of the body. The student of politics, then,
must study the soul, and must study it with these objects in view, and
do so just to the extent which is sufficient for the questions we
are discussing; for further precision is perhaps something more
laborious than our purposes require.
Some things are said about it, adequately enough, even in the
discussions outside our school, and we must use these; e.g. that one
element in the soul is irrational and one has a rational principle.
Whether these are separated as the parts of the body or of anything
divisible are, or are distinct by definition but by nature
inseparable, like convex and concave in the circumference of a circle,
does not affect the present question.
Of the irrational element one division seems to be widely
distributed, and vegetative in its nature, I mean that which causes
nutrition and growth; for it is this kind of power of the soul that
one must assign to all nurslings and to embryos, and this same power
to fullgrown creatures; this is more reasonable than to assign some
different power to them. Now the excellence of this seems to be common
to all species and not specifically human; for this part or faculty
seems to function most in sleep, while goodness and badness are
least manifest in sleep (whence comes the saying that the happy are
not better off than the wretched for half their lives; and this
happens naturally enough, since sleep is an inactivity of the soul
in that respect in which it is called good or bad), unless perhaps
to a small extent some of the movements actually penetrate to the
soul, and in this respect the dreams of good men are better than those
of ordinary people. Enough of this subject, however; let us leave
the nutritive faculty alone, since it has by its nature no share in
human excellence.
There seems to be also another irrational element in the soul-one
which in a sense, however, shares in a rational principle. For we
praise the rational principle of the continent man and of the
incontinent, and the part of their soul that has such a principle,
since it urges them aright and towards the best objects; but there
is found in them also another element naturally opposed to the
rational principle, which fights against and resists that principle.
For exactly as paralysed limbs when we intend to move them to the
right turn on the contrary to the left, so is it with the soul; the
impulses of incontinent people move in contrary directions. But
while in the body we see that which moves astray, in the soul we do
not. No doubt, however, we must none the less suppose that in the soul
too there is something contrary to the rational principle, resisting
and opposing it. In what sense it is distinct from the other
elements does not concern us. Now even this seems to have a share in a
rational principle, as we said; at any rate in the continent man it
obeys the rational principle and presumably in the temperate and brave
man it is still more obedient; for in him it speaks, on all matters,
with the same voice as the rational principle.
Therefore the irrational element also appears to be two-fold. For
the vegetative element in no way shares in a rational principle, but
the appetitive and in general the desiring element in a sense shares
in it, in so far as it listens to and obeys it; this is the sense in
which we speak of 'taking account' of one's father or one's friends,
not that in which we speak of 'accounting for a mathematical property.
That the irrational element is in some sense persuaded by a rational
principle is indicated also by the giving of advice and by all reproof
and exhortation. And if this element also must be said to have a
rational principle, that which has a rational principle (as well as
that which has not) will be twofold, one subdivision having it in
the strict sense and in itself, and the other having a tendency to
obey as one does one's father.
Virtue too is distinguished into kinds in accordance with this
difference; for we say that some of the virtues are intellectual and
others moral, philosophic wisdom and understanding and practical
wisdom being intellectual, liberality and temperance moral. For in
speaking about a man's character we do not say that he is wise or
has understanding but that he is good-tempered or temperate; yet we
praise the wise man also with respect to his state of mind; and of
states of mind we call those which merit praise virtues.
BOOK II
1
VIRTUE, then, being of two kinds, intellectual and moral,
intellectual virtue in the main owes both its birth and its growth
to teaching (for which reason it requires experience and time),
while moral virtue comes about as a result of habit, whence also its
name (ethike) is one that is formed by a slight variation from the
word ethos (habit). From this it is also plain that none of the
moral virtues arises in us by nature; for nothing that exists by
nature can form a habit contrary to its nature. For instance the stone
which by nature moves downwards cannot be habituated to move
upwards, not even if one tries to train it by throwing it up ten
thousand times; nor can fire be habituated to move downwards, nor
can anything else that by nature behaves in one way be trained to
behave in another. Neither by nature, then, nor contrary to nature
do the virtues arise in us; rather we are adapted by nature to receive
them, and are made perfect by habit.
Again, of all the things that come to us by nature we first
acquire the potentiality and later exhibit the activity (this is plain
in the case of the senses; for it was not by often seeing or often
hearing that we got these senses, but on the contrary we had them
before we used them, and did not come to have them by using them); but
the virtues we get by first exercising them, as also happens in the
case of the arts as well. For the things we have to learn before we
can do them, we learn by doing them, e.g. men become builders by
building and lyreplayers by playing the lyre; so too we become just by
doing just acts, temperate by doing temperate acts, brave by doing
brave acts.
This is confirmed by what happens in states; for legislators make
the citizens good by forming habits in them, and this is the wish of
every legislator, and those who do not effect it miss their mark,
and it is in this that a good constitution differs from a bad one.
Again, it is from the same causes and by the same means that every
virtue is both produced and destroyed, and similarly every art; for it
is from playing the lyre that both good and bad lyre-players are
produced. And the corresponding statement is true of builders and of
all the rest; men will be good or bad builders as a result of building
well or badly. For if this were not so, there would have been no
need of a teacher, but all men would have been born good or bad at
their craft. This, then, is the case with the virtues also; by doing
the acts that we do in our transactions with other men we become
just or unjust, and by doing the acts that we do in the presence of
danger, and being habituated to feel fear or confidence, we become
brave or cowardly. The same is true of appetites and feelings of
anger; some men become temperate and good-tempered, others
self-indulgent and irascible, by behaving in one way or the other in
the appropriate circumstances. Thus, in one word, states of
character arise out of like activities. This is why the activities
we exhibit must be of a certain kind; it is because the states of
character correspond to the differences between these. It makes no
small difference, then, whether we form habits of one kind or of
another from our very youth; it makes a very great difference, or
rather all the difference.
2
Since, then, the present inquiry does not aim at theoretical
knowledge like the others (for we are inquiring not in order to know
what virtue is, but in order to become good, since otherwise our
inquiry would have been of no use), we must examine the nature of
actions, namely how we ought to do them; for these determine also
the nature of the states of character that are produced, as we have
said. Now, that we must act according to the right rule is a common
principle and must be assumed-it will be discussed later, i.e. both
what the right rule is, and how it is related to the other virtues.
But this must be agreed upon beforehand, that the whole account of
matters of conduct must be given in outline and not precisely, as we
said at the very beginning that the accounts we demand must be in
accordance with the subject-matter; matters concerned with conduct and
questions of what is good for us have no fixity, any more than matters
of health. The general account being of this nature, the account of
particular cases is yet more lacking in exactness; for they do not
fall under any art or precept but the agents themselves must in each
case consider what is appropriate to the occasion, as happens also
in the art of medicine or of navigation.
But though our present account is of this nature we must give what
help we can. First, then, let us consider this, that it is the
nature of such things to be destroyed by defect and excess, as we
see in the case of strength and of health (for to gain light on things
imperceptible we must use the evidence of sensible things); both
excessive and defective exercise destroys the strength, and
similarly drink or food which is above or below a certain amount
destroys the health, while that which is proportionate both produces
and increases and preserves it. So too is it, then, in the case of
temperance and courage and the other virtues. For the man who flies
from and fears everything and does not stand his ground against
anything becomes a coward, and the man who fears nothing at all but
goes to meet every danger becomes rash; and similarly the man who
indulges in every pleasure and abstains from none becomes
self-indulgent, while the man who shuns every pleasure, as boors do,
becomes in a way insensible; temperance and courage, then, are
destroyed by excess and defect, and preserved by the mean.
But not only are the sources and causes of their origination and
growth the same as those of their destruction, but also the sphere
of their actualization will be the same; for this is also true of
the things which are more evident to sense, e.g. of strength; it is
produced by taking much food and undergoing much exertion, and it is
the strong man that will be most able to do these things. So too is it
with the virtues; by abstaining from pleasures we become temperate,
and it is when we have become so that we are most able to abstain from
them; and similarly too in the case of courage; for by being
habituated to despise things that are terrible and to stand our ground
against them we become brave, and it is when we have become so that we
shall be most able to stand our ground against them.
3
We must take as a sign of states of character the pleasure or pain
that ensues on acts; for the man who abstains from bodily pleasures
and delights in this very fact is temperate, while the man who is
annoyed at it is self-indulgent, and he who stands his ground
against things that are terrible and delights in this or at least is
not pained is brave, while the man who is pained is a coward. For
moral excellence is concerned with pleasures and pains; it is on
account of the pleasure that we do bad things, and on account of the
pain that we abstain from noble ones. Hence we ought to have been
brought up in a particular way from our very youth, as Plato says,
so as both to delight in and to be pained by the things that we ought;
for this is the right education.
Again, if the virtues are concerned with actions and passions, and
every passion and every action is accompanied by pleasure and pain,
for this reason also virtue will be concerned with pleasures and
pains. This is indicated also by the fact that punishment is inflicted
by these means; for it is a kind of cure, and it is the nature of
cures to be effected by contraries.
Again, as we said but lately, every state of soul has a nature
relative to and concerned with the kind of things by which it tends to
be made worse or better; but it is by reason of pleasures and pains
that men become bad, by pursuing and avoiding these- either the
pleasures and pains they ought not or when they ought not or as they
ought not, or by going wrong in one of the other similar ways that may
be distinguished. Hence men even define the virtues as certain
states of impassivity and rest; not well, however, because they
speak absolutely, and do not say 'as one ought' and 'as one ought not'
and 'when one ought or ought not', and the other things that may be
added. We assume, then, that this kind of excellence tends to do
what is best with regard to pleasures and pains, and vice does the
contrary.
The following facts also may show us that virtue and vice are
concerned with these same things. There being three objects of
choice and three of avoidance, the noble, the advantageous, the
pleasant, and their contraries, the base, the injurious, the
painful, about all of these the good man tends to go right and the bad
man to go wrong, and especially about pleasure; for this is common
to the animals, and also it accompanies all objects of choice; for
even the noble and the advantageous appear pleasant.
Again, it has grown up with us all from our infancy; this is why
it is difficult to rub off this passion, engrained as it is in our
life. And we measure even our actions, some of us more and others
less, by the rule of pleasure and pain. For this reason, then, our
whole inquiry must be about these; for to feel delight and pain
rightly or wrongly has no small effect on our actions.
Again, it is harder to fight with pleasure than with anger, to use
Heraclitus' phrase', but both art and virtue are always concerned with
what is harder; for even the good is better when it is harder.
Therefore for this reason also the whole concern both of virtue and of
political science is with pleasures and pains; for the man who uses
these well will be good, he who uses them badly bad.
That virtue, then, is concerned with pleasures and pains, and that
by the acts from which it arises it is both increased and, if they are
done differently, destroyed, and that the acts from which it arose are
those in which it actualizes itself- let this be taken as said.
4
The question might be asked,; what we mean by saying that we must
become just by doing just acts, and temperate by doing temperate acts;
for if men do just and temperate acts, they are already just and
temperate, exactly as, if they do what is in accordance with the
laws of grammar and of music, they are grammarians and musicians.
Or is this not true even of the arts? It is possible to do something
that is in accordance with the laws of grammar, either by chance or at
the suggestion of another. A man will be a grammarian, then, only when
he has both done something grammatical and done it grammatically;
and this means doing it in accordance with the grammatical knowledge
in himself.
Again, the case of the arts and that of the virtues are not similar;
for the products of the arts have their goodness in themselves, so
that it is enough that they should have a certain character, but if
the acts that are in accordance with the virtues have themselves a
certain character it does not follow that they are done justly or
temperately. The agent also must be in a certain condition when he
does them; in the first place he must have knowledge, secondly he must
choose the acts, and choose them for their own sakes, and thirdly
his action must proceed from a firm and unchangeable character.
These are not reckoned in as conditions of the possession of the arts,
except the bare knowledge; but as a condition of the possession of the
virtues knowledge has little or no weight, while the other
conditions count not for a little but for everything, i.e. the very
conditions which result from often doing just and temperate acts.
Actions, then, are called just and temperate when they are such as
the just or the temperate man would do; but it is not the man who does
these that is just and temperate, but the man who also does them as
just and temperate men do them. It is well said, then, that it is by
doing just acts that the just man is produced, and by doing
temperate acts the temperate man; without doing these no one would
have even a prospect of becoming good.
But most people do not do these, but take refuge in theory and think
they are being philosophers and will become good in this way, behaving
somewhat like patients who listen attentively to their doctors, but do
none of the things they are ordered to do. As the latter will not be
made well in body by such a course of treatment, the former will not
be made well in soul by such a course of philosophy.
5
Next we must consider what virtue is. Since things that are found in
the soul are of three kinds- passions, faculties, states of
character, virtue must be one of these. By passions I mean appetite,
anger, fear, confidence, envy, joy, friendly feeling, hatred, longing,
emulation, pity, and in general the feelings that are accompanied by
pleasure or pain; by faculties the things in virtue of which we are
said to be capable of feeling these, e.g. of becoming angry or being
pained or feeling pity; by states of character the things in virtue of
which we stand well or badly with reference to the passions, e.g. with
reference to anger we stand badly if we feel it violently or too
weakly, and well if we feel it moderately; and similarly with
reference to the other passions.
Now neither the virtues nor the vices are passions, because we are
not called good or bad on the ground of our passions, but are so
called on the ground of our virtues and our vices, and because we
are neither praised nor blamed for our passions (for the man who feels
fear or anger is not praised, nor is the man who simply feels anger
blamed, but the man who feels it in a certain way), but for our
virtues and our vices we are praised or blamed.
Again, we feel anger and fear without choice, but the virtues are
modes of choice or involve choice. Further, in respect of the passions
we are said to be moved, but in respect of the virtues and the vices
we are said not to be moved but to be disposed in a particular way.
For these reasons also they are not faculties; for we are neither
called good nor bad, nor praised nor blamed, for the simple capacity
of feeling the passions; again, we have the faculties by nature, but
we are not made good or bad by nature; we have spoken of this
before. If, then, the virtues are neither passions nor faculties,
all that remains is that they should be states of character.
Thus we have stated what virtue is in respect of its genus.
6
We must, however, not only describe virtue as a state of
character, but also say what sort of state it is. We may remark, then,
that every virtue or excellence both brings into good condition the
thing of which it is the excellence and makes the work of that thing
be done well; e.g. the excellence of the eye makes both the eye and
its work good; for it is by the excellence of the eye that we see
well. Similarly the excellence of the horse makes a horse both good in
itself and good at running and at carrying its rider and at awaiting
the attack of the enemy. Therefore, if this is true in every case, the
virtue of man also will be the state of character which makes a man
good and which makes him do his own work well.
How this is to happen we have stated already, but it will be made
plain also by the following consideration of the specific nature of
virtue. In everything that is continuous and divisible it is
possible to take more, less, or an equal amount, and that either in
terms of the thing itself or relatively to us; and the equal is an
intermediate between excess and defect. By the intermediate in the
object I mean that which is equidistant from each of the extremes,
which is one and the same for all men; by the intermediate
relatively to us that which is neither too much nor too little- and
this is not one, nor the same for all. For instance, if ten is many
and two is few, six is the intermediate, taken in terms of the object;
for it exceeds and is exceeded by an equal amount; this is
intermediate according to arithmetical proportion. But the
intermediate relatively to us is not to be taken so; if ten pounds are
too much for a particular person to eat and two too little, it does
not follow that the trainer will order six pounds; for this also is
perhaps too much for the person who is to take it, or too little- too
little for Milo, too much for the beginner in athletic exercises.
The same is true of running and wrestling. Thus a master of any art
avoids excess and defect, but seeks the intermediate and chooses
this- the intermediate not in the object but relatively to us.
If it is thus, then, that every art does its work well- by looking
to the intermediate and judgling its works by this standard (so that
we often say of good works of art that it is not possible either to
take away or to add anything, implying that excess and defect
destroy the goodness of works of art, while the mean preserves it; and
good artists, as we say, look to this in their work), and if, further,
virtue is more exact and better than any art, as nature also is,
then virtue must have the quality of aiming at the intermediate. I
mean moral virtue; for it is this that is concerned with passions
and actions, and in these there is excess, defect, and the
intermediate. For instance, both fear and confidence and appetite
and anger and pity and in general pleasure and pain may be felt both
too much and too little, and in both cases not well; but to feel
them at the right times, with reference to the right objects,
towards the right people, with the right motive, and in the right way,
is what is both intermediate and best, and this is characteristic of
virtue. Similarly with regard to actions also there is excess, defect,
and the intermediate. Now virtue is concerned with passions and
actions, in which excess is a form of failure, and so is defect, while
the intermediate is praised and is a form of success; and being
praised and being successful are both characteristics of virtue.
Therefore virtue is a kind of mean, since, as we have seen, it aims at
what is intermediate.
Again, it is possible to fail in many ways (for evil belongs to the
class of the unlimited, as the Pythagoreans conjectured, and good to
that of the limited), while to succeed is possible only in one way
(for which reason also one is easy and the other difficult- to miss
the mark easy, to hit it difficult); for these reasons also, then,
excess and defect are characteristic of vice, and the mean of virtue;
For men are good in but one way, but bad in many.
Virtue, then, is a state of character concerned with choice, lying
in a mean, i.e. the mean relative to us, this being determined by a
rational principle, and by that principle by which the man of
practical wisdom would determine it. Now it is a mean between two
vices, that which depends on excess and that which depends on
defect; and again it is a mean because the vices respectively fall
short of or exceed what is right in both passions and actions, while
virtue both finds and chooses that which is intermediate. Hence in
respect of its substance and the definition which states its essence
virtue is a mean, with regard to what is best and right an extreme.
But not every action nor every passion admits of a mean; for some
have names that already imply badness, e.g. spite, shamelessness,
envy, and in the case of actions adultery, theft, murder; for all of
these and suchlike things imply by their names that they are
themselves bad, and not the excesses or deficiencies of them. It is
not possible, then, ever to be right with regard to them; one must
always be wrong. Nor does goodness or badness with regard to such
things depend on committing adultery with the right woman, at the
right time, and in the right way, but simply to do any of them is to
go wrong. It would be equally absurd, then, to expect that in
unjust, cowardly, and voluptuous action there should be a mean, an
excess, and a deficiency; for at that rate there would be a mean of
excess and of deficiency, an excess of excess, and a deficiency of
deficiency. But as there is no excess and deficiency of temperance and
courage because what is intermediate is in a sense an extreme, so
too of the actions we have mentioned there is no mean nor any excess
and deficiency, but however they are done they are wrong; for in
general there is neither a mean of excess and deficiency, nor excess
and deficiency of a mean.
7
We must, however, not only make this general statement, but also
apply it to the individual facts. For among statements about conduct
those which are general apply more widely, but those which are
particular are more genuine, since conduct has to do with individual
cases, and our statements must harmonize with the facts in these
cases. We may take these cases from our table. With regard to feelings
of fear and confidence courage is the mean; of the people who
exceed, he who exceeds in fearlessness has no name (many of the states
have no name), while the man who exceeds in confidence is rash, and he
who exceeds in fear and falls short in confidence is a coward. With
regard to pleasures and pains- not all of them, and not so much with
regard to the pains- the mean is temperance, the excess
self-indulgence. Persons deficient with regard to the pleasures are
not often found; hence such persons also have received no name. But
let us call them 'insensible'.
With regard to giving and taking of money the mean is liberality,
the excess and the defect prodigality and meanness. In these actions
people exceed and fall short in contrary ways; the prodigal exceeds in
spending and falls short in taking, while the mean man exceeds in
taking and falls short in spending. (At present we are giving a mere
outline or summary, and are satisfied with this; later these states
will be more exactly determined.) With regard to money there are
also other dispositions- a mean, magnificence (for the magnificent
man differs from the liberal man; the former deals with large sums,
the latter with small ones), an excess, tastelessness and vulgarity,
and a deficiency, niggardliness; these differ from the states
opposed to liberality, and the mode of their difference will be stated
later. With regard to honour and dishonour the mean is proper pride,
the excess is known as a sort of 'empty vanity', and the deficiency is
undue humility; and as we said liberality was related to magnificence,
differing from it by dealing with small sums, so there is a state
similarly related to proper pride, being concerned with small
honours while that is concerned with great. For it is possible to
desire honour as one ought, and more than one ought, and less, and the
man who exceeds in his desires is called ambitious, the man who
falls short unambitious, while the intermediate person has no name.
The dispositions also are nameless, except that that of the
ambitious man is called ambition. Hence the people who are at the
extremes lay claim to the middle place; and we ourselves sometimes
call the intermediate person ambitious and sometimes unambitious,
and sometimes praise the ambitious man and sometimes the
unambitious. The reason of our doing this will be stated in what
follows; but now let us speak of the remaining states according to the
method which has been indicated.
With regard to anger also there is an excess, a deficiency, and a
mean. Although they can scarcely be said to have names, yet since we
call the intermediate person good-tempered let us call the mean good
temper; of the persons at the extremes let the one who exceeds be
called irascible, and his vice irascibility, and the man who falls
short an inirascible sort of person, and the deficiency
inirascibility.
There are also three other means, which have a certain likeness to
one another, but differ from one another: for they are all concerned
with intercourse in words and actions, but differ in that one is
concerned with truth in this sphere, the other two with
pleasantness; and of this one kind is exhibited in giving amusement,
the other in all the circumstances of life. We must therefore speak of
these too, that we may the better see that in all things the mean is
praise-worthy, and the extremes neither praiseworthy nor right, but
worthy of blame. Now most of these states also have no names, but we
must try, as in the other cases, to invent names ourselves so that
we may be clear and easy to follow. With regard to truth, then, the
intermediate is a truthful sort of person and the mean may be called
truthfulness, while the pretence which exaggerates is boastfulness and
the person characterized by it a boaster, and that which understates
is mock modesty and the person characterized by it mock-modest. With
regard to pleasantness in the giving of amusement the intermediate
person is ready-witted and the disposition ready wit, the excess is
buffoonery and the person characterized by it a buffoon, while the man
who falls short is a sort of boor and his state is boorishness. With
regard to the remaining kind of pleasantness, that which is
exhibited in life in general, the man who is pleasant in the right way
is friendly and the mean is friendliness, while the man who exceeds is
an obsequious person if he has no end in view, a flatterer if he is
aiming at his own advantage, and the man who falls short and is
unpleasant in all circumstances is a quarrelsome and surly sort of
person.
There are also means in the passions and concerned with the
passions; since shame is not a virtue, and yet praise is extended to
the modest man. For even in these matters one man is said to be
intermediate, and another to exceed, as for instance the bashful man
who is ashamed of everything; while he who falls short or is not
ashamed of anything at all is shameless, and the intermediate person
is modest. Righteous indignation is a mean between envy and spite, and
these states are concerned with the pain and pleasure that are felt at
the fortunes of our neighbours; the man who is characterized by
righteous indignation is pained at undeserved good fortune, the
envious man, going beyond him, is pained at all good fortune, and
the spiteful man falls so far short of being pained that he even
rejoices. But these states there will be an opportunity of
describing elsewhere; with regard to justice, since it has not one
simple meaning, we shall, after describing the other states,
distinguish its two kinds and say how each of them is a mean; and
similarly we shall treat also of the rational virtues.
8
There are three kinds of disposition, then, two of them vices,
involving excess and deficiency respectively, and one a virtue, viz.
the mean, and all are in a sense opposed to all; for the extreme
states are contrary both to the intermediate state and to each
other, and the intermediate to the extremes; as the equal is greater
relatively to the less, less relatively to the greater, so the
middle states are excessive relatively to the deficiencies,
deficient relatively to the excesses, both in passions and in actions.
For the brave man appears rash relatively to the coward, and
cowardly relatively to the rash man; and similarly the temperate man
appears self-indulgent relatively to the insensible man, insensible
relatively to the self-indulgent, and the liberal man prodigal
relatively to the mean man, mean relatively to the prodigal. Hence
also the people at the extremes push the intermediate man each over to
the other, and the brave man is called rash by the coward, cowardly by
the rash man, and correspondingly in the other cases.
These states being thus opposed to one another, the greatest
contrariety is that of the extremes to each other, rather than to
the intermediate; for these are further from each other than from
the intermediate, as the great is further from the small and the small
from the great than both are from the equal. Again, to the
intermediate some extremes show a certain likeness, as that of
rashness to courage and that of prodigality to liberality; but the
extremes show the greatest unlikeness to each other; now contraries
are defined as the things that are furthest from each other, so that
things that are further apart are more contrary.
To the mean in some cases the deficiency, in some the excess is more
opposed; e.g. it is not rashness, which is an excess, but cowardice,
which is a deficiency, that is more opposed to courage, and not
insensibility, which is a deficiency, but self-indulgence, which is an
excess, that is more opposed to temperance. This happens from two
reasons, one being drawn from the thing itself; for because one
extreme is nearer and liker to the intermediate, we oppose not this
but rather its contrary to the intermediate. E.g. since rashness is
thought liker and nearer to courage, and cowardice more unlike, we
oppose rather the latter to courage; for things that are further
from the intermediate are thought more contrary to it. This, then,
is one cause, drawn from the thing itself; another is drawn from
ourselves; for the things to which we ourselves more naturally tend
seem more contrary to the intermediate. For instance, we ourselves
tend more naturally to pleasures, and hence are more easily carried
away towards self-indulgence than towards propriety. We describe as
contrary to the mean, then, rather the directions in which we more
often go to great lengths; and therefore self-indulgence, which is
an excess, is the more contrary to temperance.
9
That moral virtue is a mean, then, and in what sense it is so, and
that it is a mean between two vices, the one involving excess, the
other deficiency, and that it is such because its character is to
aim at what is intermediate in passions and in actions, has been
sufficiently stated. Hence also it is no easy task to be good. For
in everything it is no easy task to find the middle, e.g. to find
the middle of a circle is not for every one but for him who knows; so,
too, any one can get angry- that is easy- or give or spend money; but
to do this to the right person, to the right extent, at the right
time, with the right motive, and in the right way, that is not for
every one, nor is it easy; wherefore goodness is both rare and
laudable and noble.
Hence he who aims at the intermediate must first depart from what is
the more contrary to it, as Calypso advises-
Hold the ship out beyond that surf and spray.
For of the extremes one is more erroneous, one less so; therefore,
since to hit the mean is hard in the extreme, we must as a second
best, as people say, take the least of the evils; and this will be
done best in the way we describe. But we must consider the things
towards which we ourselves also are easily carried away; for some of
us tend to one thing, some to another; and this will be recognizable
from the pleasure and the pain we feel. We must drag ourselves away to
the contrary extreme; for we shall get into the intermediate state
by drawing well away from error, as people do in straightening
sticks that are bent.
Now in everything the pleasant or pleasure is most to be guarded
against; for we do not judge it impartially. We ought, then, to feel
towards pleasure as the elders of the people felt towards Helen, and
in all circumstances repeat their saying; for if we dismiss pleasure
thus we are less likely to go astray. It is by doing this, then, (to
sum the matter up) that we shall best be able to hit the mean.
But this is no doubt difficult, and especially in individual
cases; for or is not easy to determine both how and with whom and on
what provocation and how long one should be angry; for we too
sometimes praise those who fall short and call them good-tempered, but
sometimes we praise those who get angry and call them manly. The
man, however, who deviates little from goodness is not blamed, whether
he do so in the direction of the more or of the less, but only the man
who deviates more widely; for he does not fail to be noticed. But up
to what point and to what extent a man must deviate before he
becomes blameworthy it is not easy to determine by reasoning, any more
than anything else that is perceived by the senses; such things depend
on particular facts, and the decision rests with perception. So
much, then, is plain, that the intermediate state is in all things
to be praised, but that we must incline sometimes towards the
excess, sometimes towards the deficiency; for so shall we most
easily hit the mean and what is right.
BOOK III
1
SINCE virtue is concerned with passions and actions, and on
voluntary passions and actions praise and blame are bestowed, on those
that are involuntary pardon, and sometimes also pity, to distinguish
the voluntary and the involuntary is presumably necessary for those
who are studying the nature of virtue, and useful also for legislators
with a view to the assigning both of honours and of punishments. Those
things, then, are thought-involuntary, which take place under
compulsion or owing to ignorance; and that is compulsory of which
the moving principle is outside, being a principle in which nothing is
contributed by the person who is acting or is feeling the passion,
e.g. if he were to be carried somewhere by a wind, or by men who had
him in their power.
But with regard to the things that are done from fear of greater
evils or for some noble object (e.g. if a tyrant were to order one
to do something base, having one's parents and children in his
power, and if one did the action they were to be saved, but
otherwise would be put to death), it may be debated whether such
actions are involuntary or voluntary. Something of the sort happens
also with regard to the throwing of goods overboard in a storm; for in
the abstract no one throws goods away voluntarily, but on condition of
its securing the safety of himself and his crew any sensible man
does so. Such actions, then, are mixed, but are more like voluntary
actions; for they are worthy of choice at the time when they are done,
and the end of an action is relative to the occasion. Both the
terms, then, 'voluntary' and 'involuntary', must be used with
reference to the moment of action. Now the man acts voluntarily; for
the principle that moves the instrumental parts of the body in such
actions is in him, and the things of which the moving principle is
in a man himself are in his power to do or not to do. Such actions,
therefore, are voluntary, but in the abstract perhaps involuntary; for
no one would choose any such act in itself.
For such actions men are sometimes even praised, when they endure
something base or painful in return for great and noble objects
gained; in the opposite case they are blamed, since to endure the
greatest indignities for no noble end or for a trifling end is the
mark of an inferior person. On some actions praise indeed is not
bestowed, but pardon is, when one does what he ought not under
pressure which overstrains human nature and which no one could
withstand. But some acts, perhaps, we cannot be forced to do, but
ought rather to face death after the most fearful sufferings; for
the things that 'forced' Euripides Alcmaeon to slay his mother seem
absurd. It is difficult sometimes to determine what should be chosen
at what cost, and what should be endured in return for what gain,
and yet more difficult to abide by our decisions; for as a rule what
is expected is painful, and what we are forced to do is base, whence
praise and blame are bestowed on those who have been compelled or have
not.
What sort of acts, then, should be called compulsory? We answer that
without qualification actions are so when the cause is in the external
circumstances and the agent contributes nothing. But the things that
in themselves are involuntary, but now and in return for these gains
are worthy of choice, and whose moving principle is in the agent,
are in themselves involuntary, but now and in return for these gains
voluntary. They are more like voluntary acts; for actions are in the
class of particulars, and the particular acts here are voluntary. What
sort of things are to be chosen, and in return for what, it is not
easy to state; for there are many differences in the particular cases.
But if some one were to say that pleasant and noble objects have a
compelling power, forcing us from without, all acts would be for him
compulsory; for it is for these objects that all men do everything
they do. And those who act under compulsion and unwillingly act with
pain, but those who do acts for their pleasantness and nobility do
them with pleasure; it is absurd to make external circumstances
responsible, and not oneself, as being easily caught by such
attractions, and to make oneself responsible for noble acts but the
pleasant objects responsible for base acts. The compulsory, then,
seems to be that whose moving principle is outside, the person
compelled contributing nothing.
Everything that is done by reason of ignorance is not voluntary;
it is only what produces pain and repentance that is involuntary.
For the man who has done something owing to ignorance, and feels not
the least vexation at his action, has not acted voluntarily, since
he did not know what he was doing, nor yet involuntarily, since he
is not pained. Of people, then, who act by reason of ignorance he
who repents is thought an involuntary agent, and the man who does
not repent may, since he is different, be called a not voluntary
agent; for, since he differs from the other, it is better that he
should have a name of his own.
Acting by reason of ignorance seems also to be different from acting
in ignorance; for the man who is drunk or in a rage is thought to
act as a result not of ignorance but of one of the causes mentioned,
yet not knowingly but in ignorance.
Now every wicked man is ignorant of what he ought to do and what
he ought to abstain from, and it is by reason of error of this kind
that men become unjust and in general bad; but the term
'involuntary' tends to be used not if a man is ignorant of what is
to his advantage- for it is not mistaken purpose that causes
involuntary action (it leads rather to wickedness), nor ignorance of
the universal (for that men are blamed), but ignorance of particulars,
i.e. of the circumstances of the action and the objects with which
it is concerned. For it is on these that both pity and pardon
depend, since the person who is ignorant of any of these acts
involuntarily.
Perhaps it is just as well, therefore, to determine their nature and
number. A man may be ignorant, then, of who he is, what he is doing,
what or whom he is acting on, and sometimes also what (e.g. what
instrument) he is doing it with, and to what end (e.g. he may think
his act will conduce to some one's safety), and how he is doing it
(e.g. whether gently or violently). Now of all of these no one could
be ignorant unless he were mad, and evidently also he could not be
ignorant of the agent; for how could he not know himself? But of
what he is doing a man might be ignorant, as for instance people say
'it slipped out of their mouths as they were speaking', or 'they did
not know it was a secret', as Aeschylus said of the mysteries, or a
man might say he 'let it go off when he merely wanted to show its
working', as the man did with the catapult. Again, one might think
one's son was an enemy, as Merope did, or that a pointed spear had a
button on it, or that a stone was pumicestone; or one might give a man
a draught to save him, and really kill him; or one might want to touch
a man, as people do in sparring, and really wound him. The ignorance
may relate, then, to any of these things, i.e. of the circumstances of
the action, and the man who was ignorant of any of these is thought to
have acted involuntarily, and especially if he was ignorant on the
most important points; and these are thought to be the circumstances
of the action and its end. Further, the doing of an act that is called
involuntary in virtue of ignorance of this sort must be painful and
involve repentance.
Since that which is done under compulsion or by reason of
ignorance is involuntary, the voluntary would seem to be that of which
the moving principle is in the agent himself, he being aware of the
particular circumstances of the action. Presumably acts done by reason
of anger or appetite are not rightly called involuntary. For in the
first place, on that showing none of the other animals will act
voluntarily, nor will children; and secondly, is it meant that we do
not do voluntarily any of the acts that are due to appetite or
anger, or that we do the noble acts voluntarily and the base acts
involuntarily? Is not this absurd, when one and the same thing is
the cause? But it would surely be odd to describe as involuntary the
things one ought to desire; and we ought both to be angry at certain
things and to have an appetite for certain things, e.g. for health and
for learning. Also what is involuntary is thought to be painful, but
what is in accordance with appetite is thought to be pleasant.
Again, what is the difference in respect of involuntariness between
errors committed upon calculation and those committed in anger? Both
are to be avoided, but the irrational passions are thought not less
human than reason is, and therefore also the actions which proceed
from anger or appetite are the man's actions. It would be odd, then,
to treat them as involuntary.
2
Both the voluntary and the involuntary having been delimited, we
must next discuss choice; for it is thought to be most closely bound
up with virtue and to discriminate characters better than actions do.
Choice, then, seems to be voluntary, but not the same thing as the
voluntary; the latter extends more widely. For both children and the
lower animals share in voluntary action, but not in choice, and acts
done on the spur of the moment we describe as voluntary, but not as
chosen.
Those who say it is appetite or anger or wish or a kind of opinion
do not seem to be right. For choice is not common to irrational
creatures as well, but appetite and anger are. Again, the
incontinent man acts with appetite, but not with choice; while the
continent man on the contrary acts with choice, but not with appetite.
Again, appetite is contrary to choice, but not appetite to appetite.
Again, appetite relates to the pleasant and the painful, choice
neither to the painful nor to the pleasant.
Still less is it anger; for acts due to anger are thought to be less
than any others objects of choice.
But neither is it wish, though it seems near to it; for choice
cannot relate to impossibles, and if any one said he chose them he
would be thought silly; but there may be a wish even for
impossibles, e.g. for immortality. And wish may relate to things
that could in no way be brought about by one's own efforts, e.g.
that a particular actor or athlete should win in a competition; but no
one chooses such things, but only the things that he thinks could be
brought about by his own efforts. Again, wish relates rather to the
end, choice to the means; for instance, we wish to be healthy, but
we choose the acts which will make us healthy, and we wish to be happy
and say we do, but we cannot well say we choose to be so; for, in
general, choice seems to relate to the things that are in our own
power.
For this reason, too, it cannot be opinion; for opinion is thought
to relate to all kinds of things, no less to eternal things and
impossible things than to things in our own power; and it is
distinguished by its falsity or truth, not by its badness or goodness,
while choice is distinguished rather by these.
Now with opinion in general perhaps no one even says it is
identical. But it is not identical even with any kind of opinion;
for by choosing what is good or bad we are men of a certain character,
which we are not by holding certain opinions. And we choose to get
or avoid something good or bad, but we have opinions about what a
thing is or whom it is good for or how it is good for him; we can
hardly be said to opine to get or avoid anything. And choice is
praised for being related to the right object rather than for being
rightly related to it, opinion for being truly related to its
object. And we choose what we best know to be good, but we opine
what we do not quite know; and it is not the same people that are
thought to make the best choices and to have the best opinions, but
some are thought to have fairly good opinions, but by reason of vice
to choose what they should not. If opinion precedes choice or
accompanies it, that makes no difference; for it is not this that we
are considering, but whether it is identical with some kind of
opinion.
What, then, or what kind of thing is it, since it is none of the
things we have mentioned? It seems to be voluntary, but not all that
is voluntary to be an object of choice. Is it, then, what has been
decided on by previous deliberation? At any rate choice involves a
rational principle and thought. Even the name seems to suggest that it
is what is chosen before other things.
3
Do we deliberate about everything, and is everything a possible
subject of deliberation, or is deliberation impossible about some
things? We ought presumably to call not what a fool or a madman
would deliberate about, but what a sensible man would deliberate
about, a subject of deliberation. Now about eternal things no one
deliberates, e.g. about the material universe or the
incommensurability of the diagonal and the side of a square. But no
more do we deliberate about the things that involve movement but
always happen in the same way, whether of necessity or by nature or
from any other cause, e.g. the solstices and the risings of the stars;
nor about things that happen now in one way, now in another, e.g.
droughts and rains; nor about chance events, like the finding of
treasure. But we do not deliberate even about all human affairs; for
instance, no Spartan deliberates about the best constitution for the
Scythians. For none of these things can be brought about by our own
efforts.
We deliberate about things that are in our power and can be done;
and these are in fact what is left. For nature, necessity, and
chance are thought to be causes, and also reason and everything that
depends on man. Now every class of men deliberates about the things
that can be done by their own efforts. And in the case of exact and
self-contained sciences there is no deliberation, e.g. about the
letters of the alphabet (for we have no doubt how they should be
written); but the things that are brought about by our own efforts,
but not always in the same way, are the things about which we
deliberate, e.g. questions of medical treatment or of money-making.
And we do so more in the case of the art of navigation than in that of
gymnastics, inasmuch as it has been less exactly worked out, and again
about other things in the same ratio, and more also in the case of the
arts than in that of the sciences; for we have more doubt about the
former. Deliberation is concerned with things that happen in a certain
way for the most part, but in which the event is obscure, and with
things in which it is indeterminate. We call in others to aid us in
deliberation on important questions, distrusting ourselves as not
being equal to deciding.
We deliberate not about ends but about means. For a doctor does
not deliberate whether he shall heal, nor an orator whether he shall
persuade, nor a statesman whether he shall produce law and order,
nor does any one else deliberate about his end. They assume the end
and consider how and by what means it is to be attained; and if it
seems to be produced by several means they consider by which it is
most easily and best produced, while if it is achieved by one only
they consider how it will be achieved by this and by what means this
will be achieved, till they come to the first cause, which in the
order of discovery is last. For the person who deliberates seems to
investigate and analyse in the way described as though he were
analysing a geometrical construction (not all investigation appears to
be deliberation- for instance mathematical investigations- but all
deliberation is investigation), and what is last in the order of
analysis seems to be first in the order of becoming. And if we come on
an impossibility, we give up the search, e.g. if we need money and
this cannot be got; but if a thing appears possible we try to do it.
By 'possible' things I mean things that might be brought about by
our own efforts; and these in a sense include things that can be
brought about by the efforts of our friends, since the moving
principle is in ourselves. The subject of investigation is sometimes
the instruments, sometimes the use of them; and similarly in the other
cases- sometimes the means, sometimes the mode of using it or the
means of bringing it about. It seems, then, as has been said, that man
is a moving principle of actions; now deliberation is about the things
to be done by the agent himself, and actions are for the sake of
things other than themselves. For the end cannot be a subject of
deliberation, but only the means; nor indeed can the particular
facts be a subject of it, as whether this is bread or has been baked
as it should; for these are matters of perception. If we are to be
always deliberating, we shall have to go on to infinity.
The same thing is deliberated upon and is chosen, except that the
object of choice is already determinate, since it is that which has
been decided upon as a result of deliberation that is the object of
choice. For every one ceases to inquire how he is to act when he has
brought the moving principle back to himself and to the ruling part of
himself; for this is what chooses. This is plain also from the ancient
constitutions, which Homer represented; for the kings announced
their choices to the people. The object of choice being one of the
things in our own power which is desired after deliberation, choice
will be deliberate desire of things in our own power; for when we have
decided as a result of deliberation, we desire in accordance with
our deliberation.
We may take it, then, that we have described choice in outline,
and stated the nature of its objects and the fact that it is concerned
with means.
4
That wish is for the end has already been stated; some think it is
for the good, others for the apparent good. Now those who say that the
good is the object of wish must admit in consequence that that which
the man who does not choose aright wishes for is not an object of wish
(for if it is to be so, it must also be good; but it was, if it so
happened, bad); while those who say the apparent good is the object of
wish must admit that there is no natural object of wish, but only what
seems good to each man. Now different things appear good to
different people, and, if it so happens, even contrary things.
If these consequences are unpleasing, are we to say that
absolutely and in truth the good is the object of wish, but for each
person the apparent good; that that which is in truth an object of
wish is an object of wish to the good man, while any chance thing
may be so the bad man, as in the case of bodies also the things that
are in truth wholesome are wholesome for bodies which are in good
condition, while for those that are diseased other things are
wholesome- or bitter or sweet or hot or heavy, and so on; since the
good man judges each class of things rightly, and in each the truth
appears to him? For each state of character has its own ideas of the
noble and the pleasant, and perhaps the good man differs from others
most by seeing the truth in each class of things, being as it were the
norm and measure of them. In most things the error seems to be due
to pleasure; for it appears a good when it is not. We therefore choose
the pleasant as a good, and avoid pain as an evil.
5
The end, then, being what we wish for, the means what we
deliberate about and choose, actions concerning means must be
according to choice and voluntary. Now the exercise of the virtues
is concerned with means. Therefore virtue also is in our own power,
and so too vice. For where it is in our power to act it is also in our
power not to act, and vice versa; so that, if to act, where this is
noble, is in our power, not to act, which will be base, will also be
in our power, and if not to act, where this is noble, is in our power,
to act, which will be base, will also be in our power. Now if it is in
our power to do noble or base acts, and likewise in our power not to
do them, and this was what being good or bad meant, then it is in
our power to be virtuous or vicious.
The saying that 'no one is voluntarily wicked nor involuntarily
happy' seems to be partly false and partly true; for no one is
involuntarily happy, but wickedness is voluntary. Or else we shall
have to dispute what has just been said, at any rate, and deny that
man is a moving principle or begetter of his actions as of children.
But if these facts are evident and we cannot refer actions to moving
principles other than those in ourselves, the acts whose moving
principles are in us must themselves also be in our power and
voluntary.
Witness seems to be borne to this both by individuals in their
private capacity and by legislators themselves; for these punish and
take vengeance on those who do wicked acts (unless they have acted
under compulsion or as a result of ignorance for which they are not
themselves responsible), while they honour those who do noble acts, as
though they meant to encourage the latter and deter the former. But no
one is encouraged to do the things that are neither in our power nor
voluntary; it is assumed that there is no gain in being persuaded
not to be hot or in pain or hungry or the like, since we shall
experience these feelings none the less. Indeed, we punish a man for
his very ignorance, if he is thought responsible for the ignorance, as
when penalties are doubled in the case of drunkenness; for the
moving principle is in the man himself, since he had the power of
not getting drunk and his getting drunk was the cause of his
ignorance. And we punish those who are ignorant of anything in the
laws that they ought to know and that is not difficult, and so too
in the case of anything else that they are thought to be ignorant of
through carelessness; we assume that it is in their power not to be
ignorant, since they have the power of taking care.
But perhaps a man is the kind of man not to take care. Still they
are themselves by their slack lives responsible for becoming men of
that kind, and men make themselves responsible for being unjust or
self-indulgent, in the one case by cheating and in the other by
spending their time in drinking bouts and the like; for it is
activities exercised on particular objects that make the corresponding
character. This is plain from the case of people training for any
contest or action; they practise the activity the whole time. Now
not to know that it is from the exercise of activities on particular
objects that states of character are produced is the mark of a
thoroughly senseless person. Again, it is irrational to suppose that a
man who acts unjustly does not wish to be unjust or a man who acts
self-indulgently to be self-indulgent. But if without being ignorant a
man does the things which will make him unjust, he will be unjust
voluntarily. Yet it does not follow that if he wishes he will cease to
be unjust and will be just. For neither does the man who is ill become
well on those terms. We may suppose a case in which he is ill
voluntarily, through living incontinently and disobeying his
doctors. In that case it was then open to him not to be ill, but not
now, when he has thrown away his chance, just as when you have let a
stone go it is too late to recover it; but yet it was in your power to
throw it, since the moving principle was in you. So, too, to the
unjust and to the self-indulgent man it was open at the beginning
not to become men of this kind, and so they are unjust and
selfindulgent voluntarily; but now that they have become so it is
not possible for them not to be so.
But not only are the vices of the soul voluntary, but those of the
body also for some men, whom we accordingly blame; while no one blames
those who are ugly by nature, we blame those who are so owing to
want of exercise and care. So it is, too, with respect to weakness and
infirmity; no one would reproach a man blind from birth or by
disease or from a blow, but rather pity him, while every one would
blame a man who was blind from drunkenness or some other form of
self-indulgence. Of vices of the body, then, those in our own power
are blamed, those not in our power are not. And if this be so, in
the other cases also the vices that are blamed must be in our own
power.
Now some one may say that all men desire the apparent good, but have
no control over the appearance, but the end appears to each man in a
form answering to his character. We reply that if each man is
somehow responsible for his state of mind, he will also be himself
somehow responsible for the appearance; but if not, no one is
responsible for his own evildoing, but every one does evil acts
through ignorance of the end, thinking that by these he will get
what is best, and the aiming at the end is not self-chosen but one
must be born with an eye, as it were, by which to judge rightly and
choose what is truly good, and he is well endowed by nature who is
well endowed with this. For it is what is greatest and most noble, and
what we cannot get or learn from another, but must have just such as
it was when given us at birth, and to be well and nobly endowed with
this will be perfect and true excellence of natural endowment. If this
is true, then, how will virtue be more voluntary than vice? To both
men alike, the good and the bad, the end appears and is fixed by
nature or however it may be, and it is by referring everything else to
this that men do whatever they do.
Whether, then, it is not by nature that the end appears to each
man such as it does appear, but something also depends on him, or
the end is natural but because the good man adopts the means
voluntarily virtue is voluntary, vice also will be none the less
voluntary; for in the case of the bad man there is equally present
that which depends on himself in his actions even if not in his end.
If, then, as is asserted, the virtues are voluntary (for we are
ourselves somehow partly responsible for our states of character,
and it is by being persons of a certain kind that we assume the end to
be so and so), the vices also will be voluntary; for the same is
true of them.
With regard to the virtues in general we have stated their genus
in outline, viz. that they are means and that they are states of
character, and that they tend, and by their own nature, to the doing
of the acts by which they are produced, and that they are in our power
and voluntary, and act as the right rule prescribes. But actions and
states of character are not voluntary in the same way; for we are
masters of our actions from the beginning right to the end, if we know
the particular facts, but though we control the beginning of our
states of character the gradual progress is not obvious any more
than it is in illnesses; because it was in our power, however, to
act in this way or not in this way, therefore the states are
voluntary.
Let us take up the several virtues, however, and say which they
are and what sort of things they are concerned with and how they are
concerned with them; at the same time it will become plain how many
they are. And first let us speak of courage.
6
That it is a mean with regard to feelings of fear and confidence has
already been made evident; and plainly the things we fear are terrible
things, and these are, to speak without qualification, evils; for
which reason people even define fear as expectation of evil. Now we
fear all evils, e.g. disgrace, poverty, disease, friendlessness,
death, but the brave man is not thought to be concerned with all;
for to fear some things is even right and noble, and it is base not to
fear them- e.g. disgrace; he who fears this is good and modest, and
he who does not is shameless. He is, however, by some people called
brave, by a transference of the word to a new meaning; for he has in
him something which is like the brave man, since the brave man also is
a fearless person. Poverty and disease we perhaps ought not to fear,
nor in general the things that do not proceed from vice and are not
due to a man himself. But not even the man who is fearless of these is
brave. Yet we apply the word to him also in virtue of a similarity;
for some who in the dangers of war are cowards are liberal and are
confident in face of the loss of money. Nor is a man a coward if he
fears insult to his wife and children or envy or anything of the kind;
nor brave if he is confident when he is about to be flogged. With what
sort of terrible things, then, is the brave man concerned? Surely with
the greatest; for no one is more likely than he to stand his ground
against what is awe-inspiring. Now death is the most terrible of all
things; for it is the end, and nothing is thought to be any longer
either good or bad for the dead. But the brave man would not seem to
be concerned even with death in all circumstances, e.g. at sea or in
disease. In what circumstances, then? Surely in the noblest. Now
such deaths are those in battle; for these take place in the
greatest and noblest danger. And these are correspondingly honoured in
city-states and at the courts of monarchs. Properly, then, he will
be called brave who is fearless in face of a noble death, and of all
emergencies that involve death; and the emergencies of war are in
the highest degree of this kind. Yet at sea also, and in disease,
the brave man is fearless, but not in the same way as the seaman;
for he has given up hope of safety, and is disliking the thought of
death in this shape, while they are hopeful because of their
experience. At the same time, we show courage in situations where
there is the opportunity of showing prowess or where death is noble;
but in these forms of death neither of these conditions is fulfilled.
7
What is terrible is not the same for all men; but we say there are
things terrible even beyond human strength. These, then, are terrible
to every one- at least to every sensible man; but the terrible
things that are not beyond human strength differ in magnitude and
degree, and so too do the things that inspire confidence. Now the
brave man is as dauntless as man may be. Therefore, while he will fear
even the things that are not beyond human strength, he will face
them as he ought and as the rule directs, for honour's sake; for
this is the end of virtue. But it is possible to fear these more, or
less, and again to fear things that are not terrible as if they
were. Of the faults that are committed one consists in fearing what
one should not, another in fearing as we should not, another in
fearing when we should not, and so on; and so too with respect to
the things that inspire confidence. The man, then, who faces and who
fears the right things and from the right motive, in the right way and
from the right time, and who feels confidence under the
corresponding conditions, is brave; for the brave man feels and acts
according to the merits of the case and in whatever way the rule
directs. Now the end of every activity is conformity to the
corresponding state of character. This is true, therefore, of the
brave man as well as of others. But courage is noble. Therefore the
end also is noble; for each thing is defined by its end. Therefore
it is for a noble end that the brave man endures and acts as courage
directs.
Of those who go to excess he who exceeds in fearlessness has no name
(we have said previously that many states of character have no names),
but he would be a sort of madman or insensible person if he feared
nothing, neither earthquakes nor the waves, as they say the Celts do
not; while the man who exceeds in confidence about what really is
terrible is rash. The rash man, however, is also thought to be
boastful and only a pretender to courage; at all events, as the
brave man is with regard to what is terrible, so the rash man wishes
to appear; and so he imitates him in situations where he can. Hence
also most of them are a mixture of rashness and cowardice; for,
while in these situations they display confidence, they do not hold
their ground against what is really terrible. The man who exceeds in
fear is a coward; for he fears both what he ought not and as he
ought not, and all the similar characterizations attach to him. He
is lacking also in confidence; but he is more conspicuous for his
excess of fear in painful situations. The coward, then, is a
despairing sort of person; for he fears everything. The brave man,
on the other hand, has the opposite disposition; for confidence is the
mark of a hopeful disposition. The coward, the rash man, and the brave
man, then, are concerned with the same objects but are differently
disposed towards them; for the first two exceed and fall short,
while the third holds the middle, which is the right, position; and
rash men are precipitate, and wish for dangers beforehand but draw
back when they are in them, while brave men are keen in the moment
of action, but quiet beforehand.
As we have said, then, courage is a mean with respect to things that
inspire confidence or fear, in the circumstances that have been
stated; and it chooses or endures things because it is noble to do so,
or because it is base not to do so. But to die to escape from
poverty or love or anything painful is not the mark of a brave man,
but rather of a coward; for it is softness to fly from what is
troublesome, and such a man endures death not because it is noble
but to fly from evil.
8
Courage, then, is something of this sort, but the name is also
applied to five other kinds.
First comes the courage of the citizen-soldier; for this is most
like true courage. Citizen-soldiers seem to face dangers because of
the penalties imposed by the laws and the reproaches they would
otherwise incur, and because of the honours they win by such action;
and therefore those peoples seem to be bravest among whom cowards
are held in dishonour and brave men in honour. This is the kind of
courage that Homer depicts, e.g. in Diomede and in Hector:
First will Polydamas be to heap reproach on me then; and
For Hector one day 'mid the Trojans shall utter his vaulting
harangue:
Afraid was Tydeides, and fled from my face.
This kind of courage is most like to that which we described
earlier, because it is due to virtue; for it is due to shame and to
desire of a noble object (i.e. honour) and avoidance of disgrace,
which is ignoble. One might rank in the same class even those who
are compelled by their rulers; but they are inferior, inasmuch as they
do what they do not from shame but from fear, and to avoid not what is
disgraceful but what is painful; for their masters compel them, as
Hector does:
But if I shall spy any dastard that cowers far from the fight,
Vainly will such an one hope to escape from the dogs.
And those who give them their posts, and beat them if they
retreat, do the same, and so do those who draw them up with trenches
or something of the sort behind them; all of these apply compulsion.
But one ought to be brave not under compulsion but because it is noble
to be so.
(2) Experience with regard to particular facts is also thought to be
courage; this is indeed the reason why Socrates thought courage was
knowledge. Other people exhibit this quality in other dangers, and
professional soldiers exhibit it in the dangers of war; for there seem
to be many empty alarms in war, of which these have had the most
comprehensive experience; therefore they seem brave, because the
others do not know the nature of the facts. Again, their experience
makes them most capable in attack and in defence, since they can use
their arms and have the kind that are likely to be best both for
attack and for defence; therefore they fight like armed men against
unarmed or like trained athletes against amateurs; for in such
contests too it is not the bravest men that fight best, but those
who are strongest and have their bodies in the best condition.
Professional soldiers turn cowards, however, when the danger puts
too great a strain on them and they are inferior in numbers and
equipment; for they are the first to fly, while citizen-forces die
at their posts, as in fact happened at the temple of Hermes. For to
the latter flight is disgraceful and death is preferable to safety
on those terms; while the former from the very beginning faced the
danger on the assumption that they were stronger, and when they know
the facts they fly, fearing death more than disgrace; but the brave
man is not that sort of person.
(3) Passion also is sometimes reckoned as courage; those who act
from passion, like wild beasts rushing at those who have wounded them,
are thought to be brave, because brave men also are passionate; for
passion above all things is eager to rush on danger, and hence Homer's
'put strength into his passion' and 'aroused their spirit and
passion and 'hard he breathed panting' and 'his blood boiled'. For all
such expressions seem to indicate the stirring and onset of passion.
Now brave men act for honour's sake, but passion aids them; while wild
beasts act under the influence of pain; for they attack because they
have been wounded or because they are afraid, since if they are in a
forest they do not come near one. Thus they are not brave because,
driven by pain and passion, they rush on danger without foreseeing any
of the perils, since at that rate even asses would be brave when
they are hungry; for blows will not drive them from their food; and
lust also makes adulterers do many daring things. (Those creatures are
not brave, then, which are driven on to danger by pain or passion.)
The 'courage' that is due to passion seems to be the most natural, and
to be courage if choice and motive be added.
Men, then, as well as beasts, suffer pain when they are angry, and
are pleased when they exact their revenge; those who fight for these
reasons, however, are pugnacious but not brave; for they do not act
for honour's sake nor as the rule directs, but from strength of
feeling; they have, however, something akin to courage.
(4) Nor are sanguine people brave; for they are confident in danger
only because they have conquered often and against many foes. Yet they
closely resemble brave men, because both are confident; but brave
men are confident for the reasons stated earlier, while these are so
because they think they are the strongest and can suffer nothing.
(Drunken men also behave in this way; they become sanguine). When
their adventures do not succeed, however, they run away; but it was
the mark of a brave man to face things that are, and seem, terrible
for a man, because it is noble to do so and disgraceful not to do
so. Hence also it is thought the mark of a braver man to be fearless
and undisturbed in sudden alarms than to be so in those that are
foreseen; for it must have proceeded more from a state of character,
because less from preparation; acts that are foreseen may be chosen by
calculation and rule, but sudden actions must be in accordance with
one's state of character.
(5) People who are ignorant of the danger also appear brave, and
they are not far removed from those of a sanguine temper, but are
inferior inasmuch as they have no self-reliance while these have.
Hence also the sanguine hold their ground for a time; but those who
have been deceived about the facts fly if they know or suspect that
these are different from what they supposed, as happened to the
Argives when they fell in with the Spartans and took them for
Sicyonians.
We have, then, described the character both of brave men and of
those who are thought to be brave.
9
Though courage is concerned with feelings of confidence and of fear,
it is not concerned with both alike, but more with the things that
inspire fear; for he who is undisturbed in face of these and bears
himself as he should towards these is more truly brave than the man
who does so towards the things that inspire confidence. It is for
facing what is painful, then, as has been said, that men are called
brave. Hence also courage involves pain, and is justly praised; for it
is harder to face what is painful than to abstain from what is
pleasant.
Yet the end which courage sets before it would seem to be
pleasant, but to be concealed by the attending circumstances, as
happens also in athletic contests; for the end at which boxers aim
is pleasant- the crown and the honours- but the blows they take are
distressing to flesh and blood, and painful, and so is their whole
exertion; and because the blows and the exertions are many the end,
which is but small, appears to have nothing pleasant in it. And so, if
the case of courage is similar, death and wounds will be painful to
the brave man and against his will, but he will face them because it
is noble to do so or because it is base not to do so. And the more
he is possessed of virtue in its entirety and the happier he is, the
more he will be pained at the thought of death; for life is best worth
living for such a man, and he is knowingly losing the greatest
goods, and this is painful. But he is none the less brave, and perhaps
all the more so, because he chooses noble deeds of war at that cost.
It is not the case, then, with all the virtues that the exercise of
them is pleasant, except in so far as it reaches its end. But it is
quite possible that the best soldiers may be not men of this sort
but those who are less brave but have no other good; for these are
ready to face danger, and they sell their life for trifling gains.
So much, then, for courage; it is not difficult to grasp its
nature in outline, at any rate, from what has been said.
10
After courage let us speak of temperance; for these seem to be the
virtues of the irrational parts. We have said that temperance is a
mean with regard to pleasures (for it is less, and not in the same
way, concerned with pains); self-indulgence also is manifested in
the same sphere. Now, therefore, let us determine with what sort of
pleasures they are concerned. We may assume the distinction between
bodily pleasures and those of the soul, such as love of honour and
love of learning; for the lover of each of these delights in that of
which he is a lover, the body being in no way affected, but rather the
mind; but men who are concerned with such pleasures are called neither
temperate nor self-indulgent. Nor, again, are those who are
concerned with the other pleasures that are not bodily; for those
who are fond of hearing and telling stories and who spend their days
on anything that turns up are called gossips, but not
self-indulgent, nor are those who are pained at the loss of money or
of friends.
Temperance must be concerned with bodily pleasures, but not all even
of these; for those who delight in objects of vision, such as
colours and shapes and painting, are called neither temperate nor
self-indulgent; yet it would seem possible to delight even in these
either as one should or to excess or to a deficient degree.
And so too is it with objects of hearing; no one calls those who
delight extravagantly in music or acting self-indulgent, nor those who
do so as they ought temperate.
Nor do we apply these names to those who delight in odour, unless it
be incidentally; we do not call those self-indulgent who delight in
the odour of apples or roses or incense, but rather those who
delight in the odour of unguents or of dainty dishes; for
self-indulgent people delight in these because these remind them of
the objects of their appetite. And one may see even other people, when
they are hungry, delighting in the smell of food; but to delight in
this kind of thing is the mark of the self-indulgent man; for these
are objects of appetite to him.
Nor is there in animals other than man any pleasure connected with
these senses, except incidentally. For dogs do not delight in the
scent of hares, but in the eating of them, but the scent told them the
hares were there; nor does the lion delight in the lowing of the ox,
but in eating it; but he perceived by the lowing that it was near, and
therefore appears to delight in the lowing; and similarly he does
not delight because he sees 'a stag or a wild goat', but because he is
going to make a meal of it. Temperance and self-indulgence, however,
are concerned with the kind of pleasures that the other animals
share in, which therefore appear slavish and brutish; these are
touch and taste. But even of taste they appear to make little or no
use; for the business of taste is the discriminating of flavours,
which is done by winetasters and people who season dishes; but they
hardly take pleasure in making these discriminations, or at least
self-indulgent people do not, but in the actual enjoyment, which in
all cases comes through touch, both in the case of food and in that of
drink and in that of sexual intercourse. This is why a certain
gourmand prayed that his throat might become longer than a crane's,
implying that it was the contact that he took pleasure in. Thus the
sense with which self-indulgence is connected is the most widely
shared of the senses; and self-indulgence would seem to be justly a
matter of reproach, because it attaches to us not as men but as
animals. To delight in such things, then, and to love them above all
others, is brutish. For even of the pleasures of touch the most
liberal have been eliminated, e.g. those produced in the gymnasium
by rubbing and by the consequent heat; for the contact
characteristic of the self-indulgent man does not affect the whole
body but only certain parts.
11
Of the appetites some seem to be common, others to be peculiar to
individuals and acquired; e.g. the appetite for food is natural, since
every one who is without it craves for food or drink, and sometimes
for both, and for love also (as Homer says) if he is young and
lusty; but not every one craves for this or that kind of nourishment
or love, nor for the same things. Hence such craving appears to be our
very own. Yet it has of course something natural about it; for
different things are pleasant to different kinds of people, and
some things are more pleasant to every one than chance objects. Now in
the natural appetites few go wrong, and only in one direction, that of
excess; for to eat or drink whatever offers itself till one is
surfeited is to exceed the natural amount, since natural appetite is
the replenishment of one's deficiency. Hence these people are called
belly-gods, this implying that they fill their belly beyond what is
right. It is people of entirely slavish character that become like
this. But with regard to the pleasures peculiar to individuals many
people go wrong and in many ways. For while the people who are 'fond
of so and so' are so called because they delight either in the wrong
things, or more than most people do, or in the wrong way, the
self-indulgent exceed in all three ways; they both delight in some
things that they ought not to delight in (since they are hateful), and
if one ought to delight in some of the things they delight in, they do
so more than one ought and than most men do.
Plainly, then, excess with regard to pleasures is self-indulgence
and is culpable; with regard to pains one is not, as in the case of
courage, called temperate for facing them or self-indulgent for not
doing so, but the selfindulgent man is so called because he is
pained more than he ought at not getting pleasant things (even his
pain being caused by pleasure), and the temperate man is so called
because he is not pained at the absence of what is pleasant and at his
abstinence from it.
The self-indulgent man, then, craves for all pleasant things or
those that are most pleasant, and is led by his appetite to choose
these at the cost of everything else; hence he is pained both when
he fails to get them and when he is merely craving for them (for
appetite involves pain); but it seems absurd to be pained for the sake
of pleasure. People who fall short with regard to pleasures and
delight in them less than they should are hardly found; for such
insensibility is not human. Even the other animals distinguish
different kinds of food and enjoy some and not others; and if there is
any one who finds nothing pleasant and nothing more attractive than
anything else, he must be something quite different from a man; this
sort of person has not received a name because he hardly occurs. The
temperate man occupies a middle position with regard to these objects.
For he neither enjoys the things that the self-indulgent man enjoys
most-but rather dislikes them-nor in general the things that he should
not, nor anything of this sort to excess, nor does he feel pain or
craving when they are absent, or does so only to a moderate degree,
and not more than he should, nor when he should not, and so on; but
the things that, being pleasant, make for health or for good
condition, he will desire moderately and as he should, and also
other pleasant things if they are not hindrances to these ends, or
contrary to what is noble, or beyond his means. For he who neglects
these conditions loves such pleasures more than they are worth, but
the temperate man is not that sort of person, but the sort of person
that the right rule prescribes.
12
Self-indulgence is more like a voluntary state than cowardice. For
the former is actuated by pleasure, the latter by pain, of which the
one is to be chosen and the other to be avoided; and pain upsets and
destroys the nature of the person who feels it, while pleasure does
nothing of the sort. Therefore self-indulgence is more voluntary.
Hence also it is more a matter of reproach; for it is easier to become
accustomed to its objects, since there are many things of this sort in
life, and the process of habituation to them is free from danger,
while with terrible objects the reverse is the case. But cowardice
would seem to be voluntary in a different degree from its particular
manifestations; for it is itself painless, but in these we are upset
by pain, so that we even throw down our arms and disgrace ourselves in
other ways; hence our acts are even thought to be done under
compulsion. For the self-indulgent man, on the other hand, the
particular acts are voluntary (for he does them with craving and
desire), but the whole state is less so; for no one craves to be
self-indulgent.
The name self-indulgence is applied also to childish faults; for
they bear a certain resemblance to what we have been considering.
Which is called after which, makes no difference to our present
purpose; plainly, however, the later is called after the earlier.
The transference of the name seems not a bad one; for that which
desires what is base and which develops quickly ought to be kept in
a chastened condition, and these characteristics belong above all to
appetite and to the child, since children in fact live at the beck and
call of appetite, and it is in them that the desire for what is
pleasant is strongest. If, then, it is not going to be obedient and
subject to the ruling principle, it will go to great lengths; for in
an irrational being the desire for pleasure is insatiable even if it
tries every source of gratification, and the exercise of appetite
increases its innate force, and if appetites are strong and violent
they even expel the power of calculation. Hence they should be
moderate and few, and should in no way oppose the rational
principle-and this is what we call an obedient and chastened state-and
as the child should live according to the direction of his tutor, so
the appetitive element should live according to rational principle.
Hence the appetitive element in a temperate man should harmonize
with the rational principle; for the noble is the mark at which both
aim, and the temperate man craves for the things be ought, as he
ought, as when he ought; and when he ought; and this is what
rational principle directs.
Here we conclude our account of temperance.
BOOK IV
1
LET us speak next of liberality. It seems to be the mean with regard
to wealth; for the liberal man is praised not in respect of military
matters, nor of those in respect of which the temrate man is
praised, nor of judicial decisions, but with regard to the giving
and taking of wealth, and especially in respect of giving. Now by
'wealth' we mean all the things whose value is measured by money.
Further, prodigality and meanness are excesses and defects with regard
to wealth; and meanness we always impute to those who care more than
they ought for wealth, but we sometimes apply the word 'prodigality'
in a complex sense; for we call those men prodigals who are
incontinent and spend money on self-indulgence. Hence also they are
thought the poorest characters; for they combine more vices than
one. Therefore the application of the word to them is not its proper
use; for a 'prodigal' means a man who has a single evil quality,
that of wasting his substance; since a prodigal is one who is being
ruined by his own fault, and the wasting of substance is thought to be
a sort of ruining of oneself, life being held to depend on
possession of substance.
This, then, is the sense in which we take the word 'prodigality'.
Now the things that have a use may be used either well or badly; and
riches is a useful thing; and everything is used best by the man who
has the virtue concerned with it; riches, therefore, will be used best
by the man who has the virtue concerned with wealth; and this is the
liberal man. Now spending and giving seem to be the using of wealth;
taking and keeping rather the possession of it. Hence it is more the
mark of the liberal man to give to the right people than to take
from the right sources and not to take from the wrong. For it is
more characteristic of virtue to do good than to have good done to
one, and more characteristic to do what is noble than not to do what
is base; and it is not hard to see that giving implies doing good
and doing what is noble, and taking implies having good done to one or
not acting basely. And gratitude is felt towards him who gives, not
towards him who does not take, and praise also is bestowed more on
him. It is easier, also, not to take than to give; for men are apter
to give away their own too little than to take what is another's.
Givers, too, are called liberal; but those who do not take are not
praised for liberality but rather for justice; while those who take
are hardly praised at all. And the liberal are almost the most loved
of all virtuous characters, since they are useful; and this depends on
their giving.
Now virtuous actions are noble and done for the sake of the noble.
Therefore the liberal man, like other virtuous men, will give for
the sake of the noble, and rightly; for he will give to the right
people, the right amounts, and at the right time, with all the other
qualifications that accompany right giving; and that too with pleasure
or without pain; for that which is virtuous is pleasant or free from
pain-least of all will it be painful. But he who gives to the wrong
people or not for the sake of the noble but for some other cause, will
be called not liberal but by some other name. Nor is he liberal who
gives with pain; for he would prefer the wealth to the noble act,
and this is not characteristic of a liberal man. But no more will
the liberal man take from wrong sources; for such taking is not
characteristic of the man who sets no store by wealth. Nor will he
be a ready asker; for it is not characteristic of a man who confers
benefits to accept them lightly. But he will take from the right
sources, e.g. from his own possessions, not as something noble but
as a necessity, that he may have something to give. Nor will he
neglect his own property, since he wishes by means of this to help
others. And he will refrain from giving to anybody and everybody, that
he may have something to give to the right people, at the right
time, and where it is noble to do so. It is highly characteristic of a
liberal man also to go to excess in giving, so that he leaves too
little for himself; for it is the nature of a liberal man not to
look to himself. The term 'liberality' is used relatively to a man's
substance; for liberality resides not in the multitude of the gifts
but in the state of character of the giver, and this is relative to
the giver's substance. There is therefore nothing to prevent the man
who gives less from being the more liberal man, if he has less to give
those are thought to be more liberal who have not made their wealth
but inherited it; for in the first place they have no experience of
want, and secondly all men are fonder of their own productions, as are
parents and poets. It is not easy for the liberal man to be rich,
since he is not apt either at taking or at keeping, but at giving
away, and does not value wealth for its own sake but as a means to
giving. Hence comes the charge that is brought against fortune, that
those who deserve riches most get it least. But it is not unreasonable
that it should turn out so; for he cannot have wealth, any more than
anything else, if he does not take pains to have it. Yet he will not
give to the wrong people nor at the wrong time, and so on; for he
would no longer be acting in accordance with liberality, and if he
spent on these objects he would have nothing to spend on the right
objects. For, as has been said, he is liberal who spends according
to his substance and on the right objects; and he who exceeds is
prodigal. Hence we do not call despots prodigal; for it is thought not
easy for them to give and spend beyond the amount of their
possessions. Liberality, then, being a mean with regard to giving
and taking of wealth, the liberal man will both give and spend the
right amounts and on the right objects, alike in small things and in
great, and that with pleasure; he will also take the right amounts and
from the right sources. For, the virtue being a mean with regard to
both, he will do both as he ought; since this sort of taking
accompanies proper giving, and that which is not of this sort is
contrary to it, and accordingly the giving and taking that accompany
each other are present together in the same man, while the contrary
kinds evidently are not. But if he happens to spend in a manner
contrary to what is right and noble, he will be pained, but moderately
and as he ought; for it is the mark of virtue both to be pleased and
to be pained at the right objects and in the right way. Further, the
liberal man is easy to deal with in money matters; for he can be got
the better of, since he sets no store by money, and is more annoyed if
he has not spent something that he ought than pained if he has spent
something that he ought not, and does not agree with the saying of
Simonides.
The prodigal errs in these respects also; for he is neither
pleased nor pained at the right things or in the right way; this
will be more evident as we go on. We have said that prodigality and
meanness are excesses and deficiencies, and in two things, in giving
and in taking; for we include spending under giving. Now prodigality
exceeds in giving and not taking, while meanness falls short in
giving, and exceeds in taking, except in small things.
The characteristics of prodigality are not often combined; for it is
not easy to give to all if you take from none; private persons soon
exhaust their substance with giving, and it is to these that the
name of prodigals is applied- though a man of this sort would seem to
be in no small degree better than a mean man. For he is easily cured
both by age and by poverty, and thus he may move towards the middle
state. For he has the characteristics of the liberal man, since he
both gives and refrains from taking, though he does neither of these
in the right manner or well. Therefore if he were brought to do so
by habituation or in some other way, he would be liberal; for he
will then give to the right people, and will not take from the wrong
sources. This is why he is thought to have not a bad character; it
is not the mark of a wicked or ignoble man to go to excess in giving
and not taking, but only of a foolish one. The man who is prodigal
in this way is thought much better than the mean man both for the
aforesaid reasons and because he benefits many while the other
benefits no one, not even himself.
But most prodigal people, as has been said, also take from the wrong
sources, and are in this respect mean. They become apt to take because
they wish to spend and cannot do this easily; for their possessions
soon run short. Thus they are forced to provide means from some
other source. At the same time, because they care nothing for
honour, they take recklessly and from any source; for they have an
appetite for giving, and they do not mind how or from what source.
Hence also their giving is not liberal; for it is not noble, nor
does it aim at nobility, nor is it done in the right way; sometimes
they make rich those who should be poor, and will give nothing to
people of respectable character, and much to flatterers or those who
provide them with some other pleasure. Hence also most of them are
self-indulgent; for they spend lightly and waste money on their
indulgences, and incline towards pleasures because they do not live
with a view to what is noble.
The prodigal man, then, turns into what we have described if he is
left untutored, but if he is treated with care he will arrive at the
intermediate and right state. But meanness is both incurable (for
old age and every disability is thought to make men mean) and more
innate in men than prodigality; for most men are fonder of getting
money than of giving. It also extends widely, and is multiform,
since there seem to be many kinds of meanness.
For it consists in two things, deficiency in giving and excess in
taking, and is not found complete in all men but is sometimes divided;
some men go to excess in taking, others fall short in giving. Those
who are called by such names as 'miserly', 'close', 'stingy', all fall
short in giving, but do not covet the possessions of others nor wish
to get them. In some this is due to a sort of honesty and avoidance of
what is disgraceful (for some seem, or at least profess, to hoard
their money for this reason, that they may not some day be forced to
do something disgraceful; to this class belong the cheeseparer and
every one of the sort; he is so called from his excess of
unwillingness to give anything); while others again keep their hands
off the property of others from fear, on the ground that it is not
easy, if one takes the property of others oneself, to avoid having
one's own taken by them; they are therefore content neither to take
nor to give.
Others again exceed in respect of taking by taking anything and from
any source, e.g. those who ply sordid trades, pimps and all such
people, and those who lend small sums and at high rates. For all of
these take more than they ought and from wrong sources. What is common
to them is evidently sordid love of gain; they all put up with a bad
name for the sake of gain, and little gain at that. For those who make
great gains but from wrong sources, and not the right gains, e.g.
despots when they sack cities and spoil temples, we do not call mean
but rather wicked, impious, and unjust. But the gamester and the
footpad (and the highwayman) belong to the class of the mean, since
they have a sordid love of gain. For it is for gain that both of
them ply their craft and endure the disgrace of it, and the one
faces the greatest dangers for the sake of the booty, while the
other makes gain from his friends, to whom he ought to be giving.
Both, then, since they are willing to make gain from wrong sources,
are sordid lovers of gain; therefore all such forms of taking are
mean.
And it is natural that meanness is described as the contrary of
liberality; for not only is it a greater evil than prodigality, but
men err more often in this direction than in the way of prodigality as
we have described it.
So much, then, for liberality and the opposed vices.
2
It would seem proper to discuss magnificence next. For this also
seems to be a virtue concerned with wealth; but it does not like
liberality extend to all the actions that are concerned with wealth,
but only to those that involve expenditure; and in these it
surpasses liberality in scale. For, as the name itself suggests, it is
a fitting expenditure involving largeness of scale. But the scale is
relative; for the expense of equipping a trireme is not the same as
that of heading a sacred embassy. It is what is fitting, then, in
relation to the agent, and to the circumstances and the object. The
man who in small or middling things spends according to the merits
of the case is not called magnificent (e.g. the man who can say
'many a gift I gave the wanderer'), but only the man who does so in
great things. For the magnificent man is liberal, but the liberal
man is not necessarily magnificent. The deficiency of this state of
character is called niggardliness, the excess vulgarity, lack of
taste, and the like, which do not go to excess in the amount spent
on right objects, but by showy expenditure in the wrong
circumstances and the wrong manner; we shall speak of these vices
later.
The magnificent man is like an artist; for he can see what is
fitting and spend large sums tastefully. For, as we said at the
begining, a state of character is determined by its activities and
by its objects. Now the expenses of the magnificent man are large
and fitting. Such, therefore, are also his results; for thus there
will be a great expenditure and one that is fitting to its result.
Therefore the result should be worthy of the expense, and the
expense should be worthy of the result, or should even exceed it.
And the magnificent man will spend such sums for honour's sake; for
this is common to the virtues. And further he will do so gladly and
lavishly; for nice calculation is a niggardly thing. And he will
consider how the result can be made most beautiful and most becoming
rather than for how much it can be produced and how it can be produced
most cheaply. It is necessary, then, that the magnificent man be
also liberal. For the liberal man also will spend what he ought and as
he ought; and it is in these matters that the greatness implied in the
name of the magnificent man-his bigness, as it were-is manifested,
since liberality is concerned with these matters; and at an equal
expense he will produce a more magnificent work of art. For a
possession and a work of art have not the same excellence. The most
valuable possession is that which is worth most, e.g. gold, but the
most valuable work of art is that which is great and beautiful (for
the contemplation of such a work inspires admiration, and so does
magnificence); and a work has an excellence-viz. magnificence-which
involves magnitude. Magnificence is an attribute of expenditures of
the kind which we call honourable, e.g. those connected with the
gods-votive offerings, buildings, and sacrifices-and similarly with
any form of religious worship, and all those that are proper objects
of public-spirited ambition, as when people think they ought to
equip a chorus or a trireme, or entertain the city, in a brilliant
way. But in all cases, as has been said, we have regard to the agent
as well and ask who he is and what means he has; for the expenditure
should be worthy of his means, and suit not only the result but also
the producer. Hence a poor man cannot be magnificent, since he has not
the means with which to spend large sums fittingly; and he who tries
is a fool, since he spends beyond what can be expected of him and what
is proper, but it is right expenditure that is virtuous. But great
expenditure is becoming to those who have suitable means to start
with, acquired by their own efforts or from ancestors or connexions,
and to people of high birth or reputation, and so on; for all these
things bring with them greatness and prestige. Primarily, then, the
magnificent man is of this sort, and magnificence is shown in
expenditures of this sort, as has been said; for these are the
greatest and most honourable. Of private occasions of expenditure
the most suitable are those that take place once for all, e.g. a
wedding or anything of the kind, or anything that interests the
whole city or the people of position in it, and also the receiving
of foreign guests and the sending of them on their way, and gifts
and counter-gifts; for the magnificent man spends not on himself but
on public objects, and gifts bear some resemblance to votive
offerings. A magnificent man will also furnish his house suitably to
his wealth (for even a house is a sort of public ornament), and will
spend by preference on those works that are lasting (for these are the
most beautiful), and on every class of things he will spend what is
becoming; for the same things are not suitable for gods and for men,
nor in a temple and in a tomb. And since each expenditure may be great
of its kind, and what is most magnificent absolutely is great
expenditure on a great object, but what is magnificent here is what is
great in these circumstances, and greatness in the work differs from
greatness in the expense (for the most beautiful ball or bottle is
magnificent as a gift to a child, but the price of it is small and
mean),-therefore it is characteristic of the magnificent man, whatever
kind of result he is producing, to produce it magnificently (for
such a result is not easily surpassed) and to make it worthy of the
expenditure.
Such, then, is the magnificent man; the man who goes to excess and
is vulgar exceeds, as has been said, by spending beyond what is right.
For on small objects of expenditure he spends much and displays a
tasteless showiness; e.g. he gives a club dinner on the scale of a
wedding banquet, and when he provides the chorus for a comedy he
brings them on to the stage in purple, as they do at Megara. And all
such things he will do not for honour's sake but to show off his
wealth, and because he thinks he is admired for these things, and
where he ought to spend much he spends little and where little,
much. The niggardly man on the other hand will fall short in
everything, and after spending the greatest sums will spoil the beauty
of the result for a trifle, and whatever he is doing he will
hesitate and consider how he may spend least, and lament even that,
and think he is doing everything on a bigger scale than he ought.
These states of character, then, are vices; yet they do not bring
disgrace because they are neither harmful to one's neighbour nor
very unseemly.
3
Pride seems even from its name to be concerned with great things;
what sort of great things, is the first question we must try to
answer. It makes no difference whether we consider the state of
character or the man characterized by it. Now the man is thought to be
proud who thinks himself worthy of great things, being worthy of them;
for he who does so beyond his deserts is a fool, but no virtuous man
is foolish or silly. The proud man, then, is the man we have
described. For he who is worthy of little and thinks himself worthy of
little is temperate, but not proud; for pride implies greatness, as
beauty implies a goodsized body, and little people may be neat and
well-proportioned but cannot be beautiful. On the other hand, he who
thinks himself worthy of great things, being unworthy of them, is
vain; though not every one who thinks himself worthy of more than he
really is worthy of in vain. The man who thinks himself worthy of
worthy of less than he is really worthy of is unduly humble, whether
his deserts be great or moderate, or his deserts be small but his
claims yet smaller. And the man whose deserts are great would seem
most unduly humble; for what would he have done if they had been less?
The proud man, then, is an extreme in respect of the greatness of
his claims, but a mean in respect of the rightness of them; for he
claims what is accordance with his merits, while the others go to
excess or fall short.
If, then, he deserves and claims great things, and above all the
great things, he will be concerned with one thing in particular.
Desert is relative to external goods; and the greatest of these, we
should say, is that which we render to the gods, and which people of
position most aim at, and which is the prize appointed for the noblest
deeds; and this is honour; that is surely the greatest of external
goods. Honours and dishonours, therefore, are the objects with respect
to which the proud man is as he should be. And even apart from
argument it is with honour that proud men appear to be concerned;
for it is honour that they chiefly claim, but in accordance with their
deserts. The unduly humble man falls short both in comparison with his
own merits and in comparison with the proud man's claims. The vain man
goes to excess in comparison with his own merits, but does not
exceed the proud man's claims.
Now the proud man, since he deserves most, must be good in the
highest degree; for the better man always deserves more, and the
best man most. Therefore the truly proud man must be good. And
greatness in every virtue would seem to be characteristic of a proud
man. And it would be most unbecoming for a proud man to fly from
danger, swinging his arms by his sides, or to wrong another; for to
what end should he do disgraceful acts, he to whom nothing is great?
If we consider him point by point we shall see the utter absurdity
of a proud man who is not good. Nor, again, would he be worthy of
honour if he were bad; for honour is the prize of virtue, and it is to
the good that it is rendered. Pride, then, seems to be a sort of crown
of the virtues; for it makes them greater, and it is not found without
them. Therefore it is hard to be truly proud; for it is impossible
without nobility and goodness of character. It is chiefly with honours
and dishonours, then, that the proud man is concerned; and at
honours that are great and conferred by good men he will be moderately
Pleased, thinking that he is coming by his own or even less than his
own; for there can be no honour that is worthy of perfect virtue,
yet he will at any rate accept it since they have nothing greater to
bestow on him; but honour from casual people and on trifling grounds
he will utterly despise, since it is not this that he deserves, and
dishonour too, since in his case it cannot be just. In the first
place, then, as has been said, the proud man is concerned with
honours; yet he will also bear himself with moderation towards
wealth and power and all good or evil fortune, whatever may befall
him, and will be neither over-joyed by good fortune nor over-pained by
evil. For not even towards honour does he bear himself as if it were a
very great thing. Power and wealth are desirable for the sake of
honour (at least those who have them wish to get honour by means of
them); and for him to whom even honour is a little thing the others
must be so too. Hence proud men are thought to be disdainful.
The goods of fortune also are thought to contribute towards pride.
For men who are well-born are thought worthy of honour, and so are
those who enjoy power or wealth; for they are in a superior
position, and everything that has a superiority in something good is
held in greater honour. Hence even such things make men prouder; for
they are honoured by some for having them; but in truth the good man
alone is to be honoured; he, however, who has both advantages is
thought the more worthy of honour. But those who without virtue have
such goods are neither justified in making great claims nor entitled
to the name of 'proud'; for these things imply perfect virtue.
Disdainful and insolent, however, even those who have such goods
become. For without virtue it is not easy to bear gracefully the goods
of fortune; and, being unable to bear them, and thinking themselves
superior to others, they despise others and themselves do what they
please. They imitate the proud man without being like him, and this
they do where they can; so they do not act virtuously, but they do
despise others. For the proud man despises justly (since he thinks
truly), but the many do so at random.
He does not run into trifling dangers, nor is he fond of danger,
because he honours few things; but he will face great dangers, and
when he is in danger he is unsparing of his life, knowing that there
are conditions on which life is not worth having. And he is the sort
of man to confer benefits, but he is ashamed of receiving them; for
the one is the mark of a superior, the other of an inferior. And he is
apt to confer greater benefits in return; for thus the original
benefactor besides being paid will incur a debt to him, and will be
the gainer by the transaction. They seem also to remember any
service they have done, but not those they have received (for he who
receives a service is inferior to him who has done it, but the proud
man wishes to be superior), and to hear of the former with pleasure,
of the latter with displeasure; this, it seems, is why Thetis did
not mention to Zeus the services she had done him, and why the
Spartans did not recount their services to the Athenians, but those
they had received. It is a mark of the proud man also to ask for
nothing or scarcely anything, but to give help readily, and to be
dignified towards people who enjoy high position and good fortune, but
unassuming towards those of the middle class; for it is a difficult
and lofty thing to be superior to the former, but easy to be so to the
latter, and a lofty bearing over the former is no mark of
ill-breeding, but among humble people it is as vulgar as a display
of strength against the weak. Again, it is characteristic of the proud
man not to aim at the things commonly held in honour, or the things in
which others excel; to be sluggish and to hold back except where great
honour or a great work is at stake, and to be a man of few deeds,
but of great and notable ones. He must also be open in his hate and in
his love (for to conceal one's feelings, i.e. to care less for truth
than for what people will think, is a coward's part), and must speak
and act openly; for he is free of speech because he is contemptuous,
and he is given to telling the truth, except when he speaks in irony
to the vulgar. He must be unable to make his life revolve round
another, unless it be a friend; for this is slavish, and for this
reason all flatterers are servile and people lacking in self-respect
are flatterers. Nor is he given to admiration; for nothing to him is
great. Nor is he mindful of wrongs; for it is not the part of a
proud man to have a long memory, especially for wrongs, but rather
to overlook them. Nor is he a gossip; for he will speak neither
about himself nor about another, since he cares not to be praised
nor for others to be blamed; nor again is he given to praise; and
for the same reason he is not an evil-speaker, even about his enemies,
except from haughtiness. With regard to necessary or small matters
he is least of all me given to lamentation or the asking of favours;
for it is the part of one who takes such matters seriously to behave
so with respect to them. He is one who will possess beautiful and
profitless things rather than profitable and useful ones; for this
is more proper to a character that suffices to itself.
Further, a slow step is thought proper to the proud man, a deep
voice, and a level utterance; for the man who takes few things
seriously is not likely to be hurried, nor the man who thinks
nothing great to be excited, while a shrill voice and a rapid gait are
the results of hurry and excitement.
Such, then, is the proud man; the man who falls short of him is
unduly humble, and the man who goes beyond him is vain. Now even these
are not thought to be bad (for they are not malicious), but only
mistaken. For the unduly humble man, being worthy of good things, robs
himself of what he deserves, and to have something bad about him
from the fact that he does not think himself worthy of good things,
and seems also not to know himself; else he would have desired the
things he was worthy of, since these were good. Yet such people are
not thought to be fools, but rather unduly retiring. Such a
reputation, however, seems actually to make them worse; for each class
of people aims at what corresponds to its worth, and these people
stand back even from noble actions and undertakings, deeming
themselves unworthy, and from external goods no less. Vain people,
on the other hand, are fools and ignorant of themselves, and that
manifestly; for, not being worthy of them, they attempt honourable
undertakings, and then are found out; and tetadorn themselves with
clothing and outward show and such things, and wish their strokes of
good fortune to be made public, and speak about them as if they
would be honoured for them. But undue humility is more opposed to
pride than vanity is; for it is both commoner and worse.
Pride, then, is concerned with honour on the grand scale, as has
been said.
4
There seems to be in the sphere of honour also, as was said in our
first remarks on the subject, a virtue which would appear to be
related to pride as liberality is to magnificence. For neither of
these has anything to do with the grand scale, but both dispose us
as is right with regard to middling and unimportant objects; as in
getting and giving of wealth there is a mean and an excess and defect,
so too honour may be desired more than is right, or less, or from
the right sources and in the right way. We blame both the ambitious
man as am at honour more than is right and from wrong sources, and the
unambitious man as not willing to be honoured even for noble
reasons. But sometimes we praise the ambitious man as being manly
and a lover of what is noble, and the unambitious man as being
moderate and self-controlled, as we said in our first treatment of the
subject. Evidently, since 'fond of such and such an object' has more
than one meaning, we do not assign the term 'ambition' or 'love of
honour' always to the same thing, but when we praise the quality we
think of the man who loves honour more than most people, and when we
blame it we think of him who loves it more than is right. The mean
being without a name, the extremes seem to dispute for its place as
though that were vacant by default. But where there is excess and
defect, there is also an intermediate; now men desire honour both more
than they should and less; therefore it is possible also to do so as
one should; at all events this is the state of character that is
praised, being an unnamed mean in respect of honour. Relatively to
ambition it seems to be unambitiousness, and relatively to
unambitiousness it seems to be ambition, while relatively to both
severally it seems in a sense to be both together. This appears to
be true of the other virtues also. But in this case the extremes
seem to be contradictories because the mean has not received a name.
5
Good temper is a mean with respect to anger; the middle state
being unnamed, and the extremes almost without a name as well, we
place good temper in the middle position, though it inclines towards
the deficiency, which is without a name. The excess might called a
sort of 'irascibility'. For the passion is anger, while its causes are
many and diverse.
The man who is angry at the right things and with the right
people, and, further, as he ought, when he ought, and as long as he
ought, is praised. This will be the good-tempered man, then, since
good temper is praised. For the good-tempered man tends to be
unperturbed and not to be led by passion, but to be angry in the
manner, at the things, and for the length of time, that the rule
dictates; but he is thought to err rather in the direction of
deficiency; for the good-tempered man is not revengeful, but rather
tends to make allowances.
The deficiency, whether it is a sort of 'inirascibility' or whatever
it is, is blamed. For those who are not angry at the things they
should be angry at are thought to be fools, and so are those who are
not angry in the right way, at the right time, or with the right
persons; for such a man is thought not to feel things nor to be pained
by them, and, since he does not get angry, he is thought unlikely to
defend himself; and to endure being insulted and put up with insult to
one's friends is slavish.
The excess can be manifested in all the points that have been
named (for one can be angry with the wrong persons, at the wrong
things, more than is right, too quickly, or too long); yet all are not
found in the same person. Indeed they could not; for evil destroys
even itself, and if it is complete becomes unbearable. Now
hot-tempered people get angry quickly and with the wrong persons and
at the wrong things and more than is right, but their anger ceases
quickly-which is the best point about them. This happens to them
because they do not restrain their anger but retaliate openly owing to
their quickness of temper, and then their anger ceases. By reason of
excess choleric people are quick-tempered and ready to be angry with
everything and on every occasion; whence their name. Sulky people
are hard to appease, and retain their anger long; for they repress
their passion. But it ceases when they retaliate; for revenge relieves
them of their anger, producing in them pleasure instead of pain. If
this does not happen they retain their burden; for owing to its not
being obvious no one even reasons with them, and to digest one's anger
in oneself takes time. Such people are most troublesome to
themselves and to their dearest friends. We call had-tempered those
who are angry at the wrong things, more than is right, and longer, and
cannot be appeased until they inflict vengeance or punishment.
To good temper we oppose the excess rather than the defect; for
not only is it commoner since revenge is the more human), but
bad-tempered people are worse to live with.
What we have said in our earlier treatment of the subject is plain
also from what we are now saying; viz. that it is not easy to define
how, with whom, at what, and how long one should be angry, and at what
point right action ceases and wrong begins. For the man who strays a
little from the path, either towards the more or towards the less,
is not blamed; since sometimes we praise those who exhibit the
deficiency, and call them good-tempered, and sometimes we call angry
people manly, as being capable of ruling. How far, therefore, and
how a man must stray before he becomes blameworthy, it is not easy
to state in words; for the decision depends on the particular facts
and on perception. But so much at least is plain, that the middle
state is praiseworthy- that in virtue of which we are angry with the
right people, at the right things, in the right way, and so on,
while the excesses and defects are blameworthy- slightly so if they
are present in a low degree, more if in a higher degree, and very
much if in a high degree. Evidently, then, we must cling to the
middle state.- Enough of the states relative to anger.
6
In gatherings of men, in social life and the interchange of words
and deeds, some men are thought to be obsequious, viz. those who to
give pleasure praise everything and never oppose, but think it their
duty 'to give no pain to the people they meet'; while those who, on
the contrary, oppose everything and care not a whit about giving
pain are called churlish and contentious. That the states we have
named are culpable is plain enough, and that the middle state is
laudable- that in virtue of which a man will put up with, and will
resent, the right things and in the right way; but no name has been
assigned to it, though it most resembles friendship. For the man who
corresponds to this middle state is very much what, with affection
added, we call a good friend. But the state in question differs from
friendship in that it implies no passion or affection for one's
associates; since it is not by reason of loving or hating that such
a man takes everything in the right way, but by being a man of a
certain kind. For he will behave so alike towards those he knows and
those he does not know, towards intimates and those who are not so,
except that in each of these cases he will behave as is befitting; for
it is not proper to have the same care for intimates and for
strangers, nor again is it the same conditions that make it right to
give pain to them. Now we have said generally that he will associate
with people in the right way; but it is by reference to what is
honourable and expedient that he will aim at not giving pain or at
contributing pleasure. For he seems to be concerned with the pleasures
and pains of social life; and wherever it is not honourable, or is
harmful, for him to contribute pleasure, he will refuse, and will
choose rather to give pain; also if his acquiescence in another's
action would bring disgrace, and that in a high degree, or injury,
on that other, while his opposition brings a little pain, he will
not acquiesce but will decline. He will associate differently with
people in high station and with ordinary people, with closer and
more distant acquaintances, and so too with regard to all other
differences, rendering to each class what is befitting, and while
for its own sake he chooses to contribute pleasure, and avoids the
giving of pain, he will be guided by the consequences, if these are
greater, i.e. honour and expediency. For the sake of a great future
pleasure, too, he will inflict small pains.
The man who attains the mean, then, is such as we have described,
but has not received a name; of those who contribute pleasure, the man
who aims at being pleasant with no ulterior object is obsequious,
but the man who does so in order that he may get some advantage in the
direction of money or the things that money buys is a flatterer; while
the man who quarrels with everything is, as has been said, churlish
and contentious. And the extremes seem to be contradictory to each
other because the mean is without a name.
7
The mean opposed to boastfulness is found in almost the same sphere;
and this also is without a name. It will be no bad plan to describe
these states as well; for we shall both know the facts about character
better if we go through them in detail, and we shall be convinced that
the virtues are means if we see this to be so in all cases. In the
field of social life those who make the giving of pleasure or pain
their object in associating with others have been described; let us
now describe those who pursue truth or falsehood alike in words and
deeds and in the claims they put forward. The boastful man, then, is
thought to be apt to claim the things that bring glory, when he has
not got them, or to claim more of them than he has, and the
mock-modest man on the other hand to disclaim what he has or
belittle it, while the man who observes the mean is one who calls a
thing by its own name, being truthful both in life and in word, owning
to what he has, and neither more nor less. Now each of these courses
may be adopted either with or without an object. But each man speaks
and acts and lives in accordance with his character, if he is not
acting for some ulterior object. And falsehood is in itself mean and
culpable, and truth noble and worthy of praise. Thus the truthful
man is another case of a man who, being in the mean, is worthy of
praise, and both forms of untruthful man are culpable, and
particularly the boastful man.
Let us discuss them both, but first of all the truthful man. We
are not speaking of the man who keeps faith in his agreements, i.e. in
the things that pertain to justice or injustice (for this would belong
to another virtue), but the man who in the matters in which nothing of
this sort is at stake is true both in word and in life because his
character is such. But such a man would seem to be as a matter of fact
equitable. For the man who loves truth, and is truthful where
nothing is at stake, will still more be truthful where something is at
stake; he will avoid falsehood as something base, seeing that he
avoided it even for its own sake; and such a man is worthy of
praise. He inclines rather to understate the truth; for this seems
in better taste because exaggerations are wearisome.
He who claims more than he has with no ulterior object is a
contemptible sort of fellow (otherwise he would not have delighted
in falsehood), but seems futile rather than bad; but if he does it for
an object, he who does it for the sake of reputation or honour is (for
a boaster) not very much to be blamed, but he who does it for money,
or the things that lead to money, is an uglier character (it is not
the capacity that makes the boaster, but the purpose; for it is in
virtue of his state of character and by being a man of a certain
kind that he is boaster); as one man is a liar because he enjoys the
lie itself, and another because he desires reputation or gain. Now
those who boast for the sake of reputation claim such qualities as
will praise or congratulation, but those whose object is gain claim
qualities which are of value to one's neighbours and one's lack of
which is not easily detected, e.g. the powers of a seer, a sage, or
a physician. For this reason it is such things as these that most
people claim and boast about; for in them the above-mentioned
qualities are found.
Mock-modest people, who understate things, seem more attractive in
character; for they are thought to speak not for gain but to avoid
parade; and here too it is qualities which bring reputation that
they disclaim, as Socrates used to do. Those who disclaim trifling and
obvious qualities are called humbugs and are more contemptible; and
sometimes this seems to be boastfulness, like the Spartan dress; for
both excess and great deficiency are boastful. But those who use
understatement with moderation and understate about matters that do
not very much force themselves on our notice seem attractive. And it
is the boaster that seems to be opposed to the truthful man; for he is
the worse character.
8
Since life includes rest as well as activity, and in this is
included leisure and amusement, there seems here also to be a kind
of intercourse which is tasteful; there is such a thing as saying-
and again listening to- what one should and as one should. The
kind of people one is speaking or listening to will also make a
difference. Evidently here also there is both an excess and a
deficiency as compared with the mean. Those who carry humour to excess
are thought to be vulgar buffoons, striving after humour at all costs,
and aiming rather at raising a laugh than at saying what is becoming
and at avoiding pain to the object of their fun; while those who can
neither make a joke themselves nor put up with those who do are
thought to be boorish and unpolished. But those who joke in a tasteful
way are called ready-witted, which implies a sort of readiness to turn
this way and that; for such sallies are thought to be movements of the
character, and as bodies are discriminated by their movements, so
too are characters. The ridiculous side of things is not far to
seek, however, and most people delight more than they should in
amusement and in jestinly. and so even buffoons are called
ready-witted because they are found attractive; but that they differ
from the ready-witted man, and to no small extent, is clear from
what has been said.
To the middle state belongs also tact; it is the mark of a tactful
man to say and listen to such things as befit a good and well-bred
man; for there are some things that it befits such a man to say and to
hear by way of jest, and the well-bred man's jesting differs from that
of a vulgar man, and the joking of an educated man from that of an
uneducated. One may see this even from the old and the new comedies;
to the authors of the former indecency of language was amusing, to
those of the latter innuendo is more so; and these differ in no
small degree in respect of propriety. Now should we define the man who
jokes well by his saying what is not unbecoming to a well-bred man, or
by his not giving pain, or even giving delight, to the hearer? Or is
the latter definition, at any rate, itself indefinite, since different
things are hateful or pleasant to different people? The kind of
jokes he will listen to will be the same; for the kind he can put up
with are also the kind he seems to make. There are, then, jokes he
will not make; for the jest is a sort of abuse, and there are things
that lawgivers forbid us to abuse; and they should, perhaps, have
forbidden us even to make a jest of such. The refined and well-bred
man, therefore, will be as we have described, being as it were a law
to himself.
Such, then, is the man who observes the mean, whether he be called
tactful or ready-witted. The buffoon, on the other hand, is the slave
of his sense of humour, and spares neither himself nor others if he
can raise a laugh, and says things none of which a man of refinement
would say, and to some of which he would not even listen. The boor,
again, is useless for such social intercourse; for he contributes
nothing and finds fault with everything. But relaxation and
amusement are thought to be a necessary element in life.
The means in life that have been described, then, are three in
number, and are all concerned with an interchange of words and deeds
of some kind. They differ, however, in that one is concerned with
truth; and the other two with pleasantness. Of those concerned with
pleasure, one is displayed in jests, the other in the general social
intercourse of life.
9
Shame should not be described as a virtue; for it is more like a
feeling than a state of character. It is defined, at any rate, as a
kind of fear of dishonour, and produces an effect similar to that
produced by fear of danger; for people who feel disgraced blush, and
those who fear death turn pale. Both, therefore, seem to be in a sense
bodily conditions, which is thought to be characteristic of feeling
rather than of a state of character.
The feeling is not becoming to every age, but only to youth. For
we think young people should be prone to the feeling of shame
because they live by feeling and therefore commit many errors, but are
restrained by shame; and we praise young people who are prone to
this feeling, but an older person no one would praise for being
prone to the sense of disgrace, since we think he should not do
anything that need cause this sense. For the sense of disgrace is
not even characteristic of a good man, since it is consequent on bad
actions (for such actions should not be done; and if some actions
are disgraceful in very truth and others only according to common
opinion, this makes no difference; for neither class of actions should
be done, so that no disgrace should be felt); and it is a mark of a
bad man even to be such as to do any disgraceful action. To be so
constituted as to feel disgraced if one does such an action, and for
this reason to think oneself good, is absurd; for it is for
voluntary actions that shame is felt, and the good man will never
voluntarily do bad actions. But shame may be said to be
conditionally a good thing; if a good man does such actions, he will
feel disgraced; but the virtues are not subject to such a
qualification. And if shamelessness-not to be ashamed of doing base
actions-is bad, that does not make it good to be ashamed of doing such
actions. Continence too is not virtue, but a mixed sort of state; this
will be shown later. Now, however, let us discuss justice.
BOOK V
1
WITH regards to justice and injustice we must (1) consider what kind
of actions they are concerned with, (2) what sort of mean justice
is, and (3) between what extremes the just act is intermediate. Our
investigation shall follow the same course as the preceding
discussions.
We see that all men mean by justice that kind of state of
character which makes people disposed to do what is just and makes
them act justly and wish for what is just; and similarly by
injustice that state which makes them act unjustly and wish for what
is unjust. Let us too, then, lay this down as a general basis. For the
same is not true of the sciences and the faculties as of states of
character. A faculty or a science which is one and the same is held to
relate to contrary objects, but a state of character which is one of
two contraries does not produce the contrary results; e.g. as a result
of health we do not do what is the opposite of healthy, but only
what is healthy; for we say a man walks healthily, when he walks as
a healthy man would.
Now often one contrary state is recognized from its contrary, and
often states are recognized from the subjects that exhibit them; for
(A) if good condition is known, bad condition also becomes known,
and (B) good condition is known from the things that are in good
condition, and they from it. If good condition is firmness of flesh,
it is necessary both that bad condition should be flabbiness of
flesh and that the wholesome should be that which causes firmness in
flesh. And it follows for the most part that if one contrary is
ambiguous the other also will be ambiguous; e.g. if 'just' is so, that
'unjust' will be so too.
Now 'justice' and 'injustice' seem to be ambiguous, but because
their different meanings approach near to one another the ambiguity
escapes notice and is not obvious as it is, comparatively, when the
meanings are far apart, e.g. (for here the difference in outward
form is great) as the ambiguity in the use of kleis for the
collar-bone of an animal and for that with which we lock a door. Let
us take as a starting-point, then, the various meanings of 'an
unjust man'. Both the lawless man and the grasping and unfair man
are thought to be unjust, so that evidently both the law-abiding and
the fair man will be just. The just, then, is the lawful and the fair,
the unjust the unlawful and the unfair.
Since the unjust man is grasping, he must be concerned with
goods-not all goods, but those with which prosperity and adversity
have to do, which taken absolutely are always good, but for a
particular person are not always good. Now men pray for and pursue
these things; but they should not, but should pray that the things
that are good absolutely may also be good for them, and should
choose the things that are good for them. The unjust man does not
always choose the greater, but also the less-in the case of things bad
absolutely; but because the lesser evil is itself thought to be in a
sense good, and graspingness is directed at the good, therefore he
is thought to be grasping. And he is unfair; for this contains and
is common to both.
Since the lawless man was seen to be unjust and the law-abiding
man just, evidently all lawful acts are in a sense just acts; for
the acts laid down by the legislative art are lawful, and each of
these, we say, is just. Now the laws in their enactments on all
subjects aim at the common advantage either of all or of the best or
of those who hold power, or something of the sort; so that in one
sense we call those acts just that tend to produce and preserve
happiness and its components for the political society. And the law
bids us do both the acts of a brave man (e.g. not to desert our post
nor take to flight nor throw away our arms), and those of a
temperate man (e.g. not to commit adultery nor to gratify one's lust),
and those of a good-tempered man (e.g. not to strike another nor to
speak evil), and similarly with regard to the other virtues and
forms of wickedness, commanding some acts and forbidding others; and
the rightly-framed law does this rightly, and the hastily conceived
one less well. This form of justice, then, is complete virtue, but not
absolutely, but in relation to our neighbour. And therefore justice is
often thought to be the greatest of virtues, and 'neither evening
nor morning star' is so wonderful; and proverbially 'in justice is
every virtue comprehended'. And it is complete virtue in its fullest
sense, because it is the actual exercise of complete virtue. It is
complete because he who possesses it can exercise his virtue not
only in himself but towards his neighbour also; for many men can
exercise virtue in their own affairs, but not in their relations to
their neighbour. This is why the saying of Bias is thought to be true,
that 'rule will show the man'; for a ruler is necessarily in
relation to other men and a member of a society. For this same
reason justice, alone of the virtues, is thought to be 'another's
good', because it is related to our neighbour; for it does what is
advantageous to another, either a ruler or a copartner. Now the
worst man is he who exercises his wickedness both towards himself
and towards his friends, and the best man is not he who exercises
his virtue towards himself but he who exercises it towards another;
for this is a difficult task. Justice in this sense, then, is not part
of virtue but virtue entire, nor is the contrary injustice a part of
vice but vice entire. What the difference is between virtue and
justice in this sense is plain from what we have said; they are the
same but their essence is not the same; what, as a relation to one's
neighbour, is justice is, as a certain kind of state without
qualification, virtue.
2
But at all events what we are investigating is the justice which
is a part of virtue; for there is a justice of this kind, as we
maintain. Similarly it is with injustice in the particular sense
that we are concerned.
That there is such a thing is indicated by the fact that while the
man who exhibits in action the other forms of wickedness acts
wrongly indeed, but not graspingly (e.g. the man who throws away his
shield through cowardice or speaks harshly through bad temper or fails
to help a friend with money through meanness), when a man acts
graspingly he often exhibits none of these vices,-no, nor all
together, but certainly wickedness of some kind (for we blame him) and
injustice. There is, then, another kind of injustice which is a part
of injustice in the wide sense, and a use of the word 'unjust' which
answers to a part of what is unjust in the wide sense of 'contrary
to the law'. Again if one man commits adultery for the sake of gain
and makes money by it, while another does so at the bidding of
appetite though he loses money and is penalized for it, the latter
would be held to be self-indulgent rather than grasping, but the
former is unjust, but not self-indulgent; evidently, therefore, he
is unjust by reason of his making gain by his act. Again, all other
unjust acts are ascribed invariably to some particular kind of
wickedness, e.g. adultery to self-indulgence, the desertion of a
comrade in battle to cowardice, physical violence to anger; but if a
man makes gain, his action is ascribed to no form of wickedness but
injustice. Evidently, therefore, there is apart from injustice in
the wide sense another, 'particular', injustice which shares the
name and nature of the first, because its definition falls within
the same genus; for the significance of both consists in a relation to
one's neighbour, but the one is concerned with honour or money or
safety-or that which includes all these, if we had a single name for
it-and its motive is the pleasure that arises from gain; while the
other is concerned with all the objects with which the good man is
concerned.
It is clear, then, that there is more than one kind of justice,
and that there is one which is distinct from virtue entire; we must
try to grasp its genus and differentia.
The unjust has been divided into the unlawful and the unfair, and
the just into the lawful and the fair. To the unlawful answers the
afore-mentioned sense of injustice. But since unfair and the
unlawful are not the same, but are different as a part is from its
whole (for all that is unfair is unlawful, but not all that is
unlawful is unfair), the unjust and injustice in the sense of the
unfair are not the same as but different from the former kind, as part
from whole; for injustice in this sense is a part of injustice in
the wide sense, and similarly justice in the one sense of justice in
the other. Therefore we must speak also about particular justice and
particular and similarly about the just and the unjust. The justice,
then, which answers to the whole of virtue, and the corresponding
injustice, one being the exercise of virtue as a whole, and the
other that of vice as a whole, towards one's neighbour, we may leave
on one side. And how the meanings of 'just' and 'unjust' which
answer to these are to be distinguished is evident; for practically
the majority of the acts commanded by the law are those which are
prescribed from the point of view of virtue taken as a whole; for
the law bids us practise every virtue and forbids us to practise any
vice. And the things that tend to produce virtue taken as a whole
are those of the acts prescribed by the law which have been prescribed
with a view to education for the common good. But with regard to the
education of the individual as such, which makes him without
qualification a good man, we must determine later whether this is
the function of the political art or of another; for perhaps it is not
the same to be a good man and a good citizen of any state taken at
random.
Of particular justice and that which is just in the corresponding
sense, (A) one kind is that which is manifested in distributions of
honour or money or the other things that fall to be divided among
those who have a share in the constitution (for in these it is
possible for one man to have a share either unequal or equal to that
of another), and (B) one is that which plays a rectifying part in
transactions between man and man. Of this there are two divisions;
of transactions (1) some are voluntary and (2) others
involuntary- voluntary such transactions as sale, purchase, loan for
consumption, pledging, loan for use, depositing, letting (they are
called voluntary because the origin of these transactions is
voluntary), while of the involuntary (a) some are clandestine, such as
theft, adultery, poisoning, procuring, enticement of slaves,
assassination, false witness, and (b) others are violent, such as
assault, imprisonment, murder, robbery with violence, mutilation,
abuse, insult.
3
(A) We have shown that both the unjust man and the unjust act are
unfair or unequal; now it is clear that there is also an
intermediate between the two unequals involved in either case. And
this is the equal; for in any kind of action in which there's a more
and a less there is also what is equal. If, then, the unjust is
unequal, just is equal, as all men suppose it to be, even apart from
argument. And since the equal is intermediate, the just will be an
intermediate. Now equality implies at least two things. The just,
then, must be both intermediate and equal and relative (i.e. for
certain persons). And since the equall intermediate it must be between
certain things (which are respectively greater and less); equal, it
involves two things; qua just, it is for certain people. The just,
therefore, involves at least four terms; for the persons for whom it
is in fact just are two, and the things in which it is manifested, the
objects distributed, are two. And the same equality will exist between
the persons and between the things concerned; for as the latter the
things concerned-are related, so are the former; if they are not
equal, they will not have what is equal, but this is the origin of
quarrels and complaints-when either equals have and are awarded
unequal shares, or unequals equal shares. Further, this is plain
from the fact that awards should be 'according to merit'; for all
men agree that what is just in distribution must be according to merit
in some sense, though they do not all specify the same sort of
merit, but democrats identify it with the status of freeman,
supporters of oligarchy with wealth (or with noble birth), and
supporters of aristocracy with excellence.
The just, then, is a species of the proportionate (proportion
being not a property only of the kind of number which consists of
abstract units, but of number in general). For proportion is
equality of ratios, and involves four terms at least (that discrete
proportion involves four terms is plain, but so does continuous
proportion, for it uses one term as two and mentions it twice; e.g.
'as the line A is to the line B, so is the line B to the line C';
the line B, then, has been mentioned twice, so that if the line B be
assumed twice, the proportional terms will be four); and the just,
too, involves at least four terms, and the ratio between one pair is
the same as that between the other pair; for there is a similar
distinction between the persons and between the things. As the term A,
then, is to B, so will C be to D, and therefore, alternando, as A is
to C, B will be to D. Therefore also the whole is in the same ratio to
the whole; and this coupling the distribution effects, and, if the
terms are so combined, effects justly. The conjunction, then, of the
term A with C and of B with D is what is just in distribution, and
this species of the just is intermediate, and the unjust is what
violates the proportion; for the proportional is intermediate, and the
just is proportional. (Mathematicians call this kind of proportion
geometrical; for it is in geometrical proportion that it follows
that the whole is to the whole as either part is to the
corresponding part.) This proportion is not continuous; for we
cannot get a single term standing for a person and a thing.
This, then, is what the just is-the proportional; the unjust is what
violates the proportion. Hence one term becomes too great, the other
too small, as indeed happens in practice; for the man who acts
unjustly has too much, and the man who is unjustly treated too little,
of what is good. In the case of evil the reverse is true; for the
lesser evil is reckoned a good in comparison with the greater evil,
since the lesser evil is rather to be chosen than the greater, and
what is worthy of choice is good, and what is worthier of choice a
greater good.
This, then, is one species of the just.
4
(B) The remaining one is the rectificatory, which arises in
connexion with transactions both voluntary and involuntary. This
form of the just has a different specific character from the former.
For the justice which distributes common possessions is always in
accordance with the kind of proportion mentioned above (for in the
case also in which the distribution is made from the common funds of a
partnership it will be according to the same ratio which the funds put
into the business by the partners bear to one another); and the
injustice opposed to this kind of justice is that which violates the
proportion. But the justice in transactions between man and man is a
sort of equality indeed, and the injustice a sort of inequality; not
according to that kind of proportion, however, but according to
arithmetical proportion. For it makes no difference whether a good man
has defrauded a bad man or a bad man a good one, nor whether it is a
good or a bad man that has committed adultery; the law looks only to
the distinctive character of the injury, and treats the parties as
equal, if one is in the wrong and the other is being wronged, and if
one inflicted injury and the other has received it. Therefore, this
kind of injustice being an inequality, the judge tries to equalize it;
for in the case also in which one has received and the other has
inflicted a wound, or one has slain and the other been slain, the
suffering and the action have been unequally distributed; but the
judge tries to equalize by means of the penalty, taking away from
the gain of the assailant. For the term 'gain' is applied generally to
such cases, even if it be not a term appropriate to certain cases,
e.g. to the person who inflicts a woundand 'loss' to the sufferer;
at all events when the suffering has been estimated, the one is called
loss and the other gain. Therefore the equal is intermediate between
the greater and the less, but the gain and the loss are respectively
greater and less in contrary ways; more of the good and less of the
evil are gain, and the contrary is loss; intermediate between them is,
as we saw, equal, which we say is just; therefore corrective justice
will be the intermediate between loss and gain. This is why, when
people dispute, they take refuge in the judge; and to go to the
judge is to go to justice; for the nature of the judge is to be a sort
of animate justice; and they seek the judge as an intermediate, and in
some states they call judges mediators, on the assumption that if they
get what is intermediate they will get what is just. The just, then,
is an intermediate, since the judge is so. Now the judge restores
equality; it is as though there were a line divided into unequal
parts, and he took away that by which the greater segment exceeds
the half, and added it to the smaller segment. And when the whole
has been equally divided, then they say they have 'their own'-i.e.
when they have got what is equal. The equal is intermediate between
the greater and the lesser line according to arithmetical
proportion. It is for this reason also that it is called just
(sikaion), because it is a division into two equal parts (sicha), just
as if one were to call it sichaion; and the judge (sikastes) is one
who bisects (sichastes). For when something is subtracted from one
of two equals and added to the other, the other is in excess by
these two; since if what was taken from the one had not been added
to the other, the latter would have been in excess by one only. It
therefore exceeds the intermediate by one, and the intermediate
exceeds by one that from which something was taken. By this, then,
we shall recognize both what we must subtract from that which has
more, and what we must add to that which has less; we must add to
the latter that by which the intermediate exceeds it, and subtract
from the greatest that by which it exceeds the intermediate. Let the
lines AA', BB', CC' be equal to one another; from the line AA' let the
segment AE have been subtracted, and to the line CC' let the segment
CD have been added, so that the whole line DCC' exceeds the line EA'
by the segment CD and the segment CF; therefore it exceeds the line
BB' by the segment CD. (See diagram.)
These names, both loss and gain, have come from voluntary
exchange; for to have more than one's own is called gaining, and to
have less than one's original share is called losing, e.g. in buying
and selling and in all other matters in which the law has left
people free to make their own terms; but when they get neither more
nor less but just what belongs to themselves, they say that they
have their own and that they neither lose nor gain.
Therefore the just is intermediate between a sort of gain and a sort
of loss, viz. those which are involuntary; it consists in having an
equal amount before and after the transaction.
5
Some think that reciprocity is without qualification just, as the
Pythagoreans said; for they defined justice without qualification as
reciprocity. Now 'reciprocity' fits neither distributive nor
rectificatory justice-yet people want even the justice of Rhadamanthus
to mean this:
Should a man suffer what he did, right justice would be done
-for in many cases reciprocity and rectificatory justice are not in
accord; e.g. (1) if an official has inflicted a wound, he should not
be wounded in return, and if some one has wounded an official, he
ought not to be wounded only but punished in addition. Further (2)
there is a great difference between a voluntary and an involuntary
act. But in associations for exchange this sort of justice does hold
men together-reciprocity in accordance with a proportion and not on
the basis of precisely equal return. For it is by proportionate
requital that the city holds together. Men seek to return either
evil for evil-and if they cana not do so, think their position mere
slavery-or good for good-and if they cannot do so there is no
exchange, but it is by exchange that they hold together. This is why
they give a prominent place to the temple of the Graces-to promote the
requital of services; for this is characteristic of grace-we should
serve in return one who has shown grace to us, and should another time
take the initiative in showing it.
Now proportionate return is secured by cross-conjunction. Let A be a
builder, B a shoemaker, C a house, D a shoe. The builder, then, must
get from the shoemaker the latter's work, and must himself give him in
return his own. If, then, first there is proportionate equality of
goods, and then reciprocal action takes place, the result we mention
will be effected. If not, the bargain is not equal, and does not hold;
for there is nothing to prevent the work of the one being better
than that of the other; they must therefore be equated. (And this is
true of the other arts also; for they would have been destroyed if
what the patient suffered had not been just what the agent did, and of
the same amount and kind.) For it is not two doctors that associate
for exchange, but a doctor and a farmer, or in general people who
are different and unequal; but these must be equated. This is why
all things that are exchanged must be somehow comparable. It is for
this end that money has been introduced, and it becomes in a sense
an intermediate; for it measures all things, and therefore the
excess and the defect-how many shoes are equal to a house or to a
given amount of food. The number of shoes exchanged for a house (or
for a given amount of food) must therefore correspond to the ratio
of builder to shoemaker. For if this be not so, there will be no
exchange and no intercourse. And this proportion will not be
effected unless the goods are somehow equal. All goods must
therefore be measured by some one thing, as we said before. Now this
unit is in truth demand, which holds all things together (for if men
did not need one another's goods at all, or did not need them equally,
there would be either no exchange or not the same exchange); but money
has become by convention a sort of representative of demand; and
this is why it has the name 'money' (nomisma)-because it exists not by
nature but by law (nomos) and it is in our power to change it and make
it useless. There will, then, be reciprocity when the terms have
been equated so that as farmer is to shoemaker, the amount of the
shoemaker's work is to that of the farmer's work for which it
exchanges. But we must not bring them into a figure of proportion when
they have already exchanged (otherwise one extreme will have both
excesses), but when they still have their own goods. Thus they are
equals and associates just because this equality can be effected in
their case. Let A be a farmer, C food, B a shoemaker, D his product
equated to C. If it had not been possible for reciprocity to be thus
effected, there would have been no association of the parties. That
demand holds things together as a single unit is shown by the fact
that when men do not need one another, i.e. when neither needs the
other or one does not need the other, they do not exchange, as we do
when some one wants what one has oneself, e.g. when people permit
the exportation of corn in exchange for wine. This equation
therefore must be established. And for the future exchange-that if
we do not need a thing now we shall have it if ever we do need
it-money is as it were our surety; for it must be possible for us to
get what we want by bringing the money. Now the same thing happens
to money itself as to goods-it is not always worth the same; yet it
tends to be steadier. This is why all goods must have a price set on
them; for then there will always be exchange, and if so, association
of man with man. Money, then, acting as a measure, makes goods
commensurate and equates them; for neither would there have been
association if there were not exchange, nor exchange if there were not
equality, nor equality if there were not commensurability. Now in
truth it is impossible that things differing so much should become
commensurate, but with reference to demand they may become so
sufficiently. There must, then, be a unit, and that fixed by agreement
(for which reason it is called money); for it is this that makes all
things commensurate, since all things are measured by money. Let A
be a house, B ten minae, C a bed. A is half of B, if the house is
worth five minae or equal to them; the bed, C, is a tenth of B; it
is plain, then, how many beds are equal to a house, viz. five. That
exchange took place thus before there was money is plain; for it makes
no difference whether it is five beds that exchange for a house, or
the money value of five beds.
We have now defined the unjust and the just. These having been
marked off from each other, it is plain that just action is
intermediate between acting unjustly and being unjustly treated; for
the one is to have too much and the other to have too little.
Justice is a kind of mean, but not in the same way as the other
virtues, but because it relates to an intermediate amount, while
injustice relates to the extremes. And justice is that in virtue of
which the just man is said to be a doer, by choice, of that which is
just, and one who will distribute either between himself and another
or between two others not so as to give more of what is desirable to
himself and less to his neighbour (and conversely with what is
harmful), but so as to give what is equal in accordance with
proportion; and similarly in distributing between two other persons.
Injustice on the other hand is similarly related to the unjust,
which is excess and defect, contrary to proportion, of the useful or
hurtful. For which reason injustice is excess and defect, viz. because
it is productive of excess and defect-in one's own case excess of what
is in its own nature useful and defect of what is hurtful, while in
the case of others it is as a whole like what it is in one's own case,
but proportion may be violated in either direction. In the unjust
act to have too little is to be unjustly treated; to have too much
is to act unjustly.
Let this be taken as our account of the nature of justice and
injustice, and similarly of the just and the unjust in general.
6
Since acting unjustly does not necessarily imply being unjust, we
must ask what sort of unjust acts imply that the doer is unjust with
respect to each type of injustice, e.g. a thief, an adulterer, or a
brigand. Surely the answer does not turn on the difference between
these types. For a man might even lie with a woman knowing who she
was, but the origin of his might be not deliberate choice but passion.
He acts unjustly, then, but is not unjust; e.g. a man is not a
thief, yet he stole, nor an adulterer, yet he committed adultery;
and similarly in all other cases.
Now we have previously stated how the reciprocal is related to the
just; but we must not forget that what we are looking for is not
only what is just without qualification but also political justice.
This is found among men who share their life with a view to
selfsufficiency, men who are free and either proportionately or
arithmetically equal, so that between those who do not fulfil this
condition there is no political justice but justice in a special sense
and by analogy. For justice exists only between men whose mutual
relations are governed by law; and law exists for men between whom
there is injustice; for legal justice is the discrimination of the
just and the unjust. And between men between whom there is injustice
there is also unjust action (though there is not injustice between all
between whom there is unjust action), and this is assigning too much
to oneself of things good in themselves and too little of things
evil in themselves. This is why we do not allow a man to rule, but
rational principle, because a man behaves thus in his own interests
and becomes a tyrant. The magistrate on the other hand is the guardian
of justice, and, if of justice, then of equality also. And since he is
assumed to have no more than his share, if he is just (for he does not
assign to himself more of what is good in itself, unless such a
share is proportional to his merits-so that it is for others that he
labours, and it is for this reason that men, as we stated
previously, say that justice is 'another's good'), therefore a
reward must be given him, and this is honour and privilege; but
those for whom such things are not enough become tyrants.
The justice of a master and that of a father are not the same as the
justice of citizens, though they are like it; for there can be no
injustice in the unqualified sense towards thing that are one's own,
but a man's chattel, and his child until it reaches a certain age
and sets up for itself, are as it were part of himself, and no one
chooses to hurt himself (for which reason there can be no injustice
towards oneself). Therefore the justice or injustice of citizens is
not manifested in these relations; for it was as we saw according to
law, and between people naturally subject to law, and these as we saw'
are people who have an equal share in ruling and being ruled. Hence
justice can more truly be manifested towards a wife than towards
children and chattels, for the former is household justice; but even
this is different from political justice.
7
Of political justice part is natural, part legal, natural, that
which everywhere has the same force and does not exist by people's
thinking this or that; legal, that which is originally indifferent,
but when it has been laid down is not indifferent, e.g. that a
prisoner's ransom shall be a mina, or that a goat and not two sheep
shall be sacrificed, and again all the laws that are passed for
particular cases, e.g. that sacrifice shall be made in honour of
Brasidas, and the provisions of decrees. Now some think that all
justice is of this sort, because that which is by nature is
unchangeable and has everywhere the same force (as fire burns both
here and in Persia), while they see change in the things recognized as
just. This, however, is not true in this unqualified way, but is
true in a sense; or rather, with the gods it is perhaps not true at
all, while with us there is something that is just even by nature, yet
all of it is changeable; but still some is by nature, some not by
nature. It is evident which sort of thing, among things capable of
being otherwise, is by nature, and which is not but is legal and
conventional, assuming that both are equally changeable. And in all
other things the same distinction will apply; by nature the right hand
is stronger, yet it is possible that all men should come to be
ambidextrous. The things which are just by virtue of convention and
expediency are like measures; for wine and corn measures are not
everywhere equal, but larger in wholesale and smaller in retail
markets. Similarly, the things which are just not by nature but by
human enactment are not everywhere the same, since constitutions
also are not the same, though there is but one which is everywhere
by nature the best. Of things just and lawful each is related as the
universal to its particulars; for the things that are done are many,
but of them each is one, since it is universal.
There is a difference between the act of injustice and what is
unjust, and between the act of justice and what is just; for a thing
is unjust by nature or by enactment; and this very thing, when it
has been done, is an act of injustice, but before it is done is not
yet that but is unjust. So, too, with an act of justice (though the
general term is rather 'just action', and 'act of justice' is
applied to the correction of the act of injustice).
Each of these must later be examined separately with regard to the
nature and number of its species and the nature of the things with
which it is concerned.
8
Acts just and unjust being as we have described them, a man acts
unjustly or justly whenever he does such acts voluntarily; when
involuntarily, he acts neither unjustly nor justly except in an
incidental way; for he does things which happen to be just or
unjust. Whether an act is or is not one of injustice (or of justice)
is determined by its voluntariness or involuntariness; for when it
is voluntary it is blamed, and at the same time is then an act of
injustice; so that there will be things that are unjust but not yet
acts of injustice, if voluntariness be not present as well. By the
voluntary I mean, as has been said before, any of the things in a
man's own power which he does with knowledge, i.e. not in ignorance
either of the person acted on or of the instrument used or of the
end that will be attained (e.g. whom he is striking, with what, and to
what end), each such act being done not incidentally nor under
compulsion (e.g. if A takes B's hand and therewith strikes C, B does
not act voluntarily; for the act was not in his own power). The person
struck may be the striker's father, and the striker may know that it
is a man or one of the persons present, but not know that it is his
father; a similar distinction may be made in the case of the end,
and with regard to the whole action. Therefore that which is done in
ignorance, or though not done in ignorance is not in the agent's
power, or is done under compulsion, is involuntary (for many natural
processes, even, we knowingly both perform and experience, none of
which is either voluntary or involuntary; e.g. growing old or
dying). But in the case of unjust and just acts alike the injustice or
justice may be only incidental; for a man might return a deposit
unwillingly and from fear, and then he must not be said either to do
what is just or to act justly, except in an incidental way.
Similarly the man who under compulsion and unwillingly fails to return
the deposit must be said to act unjustly, and to do what is unjust,
only incidentally. Of voluntary acts we do some by choice, others
not by choice; by choice those which we do after deliberation, not
by choice those which we do without previous deliberation. Thus
there are three kinds of injury in transactions between man and man;
those done in ignorance are mistakes when the person acted on, the
act, the instrument, or the end that will be attained is other than
the agent supposed; the agent thought either that he was not hiting
any one or that he was not hitting with this missile or not hitting
this person or to this end, but a result followed other than that
which he thought likely (e.g. he threw not with intent to wound but
only to prick), or the person hit or the missile was other than he
supposed. Now when (1) the injury takes place contrary to reasonable
expectation, it is a misadventure. When (2) it is not contrary to
reasonable expectation, but does not imply vice, it is a mistake
(for a man makes a mistake when the fault originates in him, but is
the victim of accident when the origin lies outside him). When (3)
he acts with knowledge but not after deliberation, it is an act of
injustice-e.g. the acts due to anger or to other passions necessary or
natural to man; for when men do such harmful and mistaken acts they
act unjustly, and the acts are acts of injustice, but this does not
imply that the doers are unjust or wicked; for the injury is not due
to vice. But when (4) a man acts from choice, he is an unjust man
and a vicious man.
Hence acts proceeding from anger are rightly judged not to be done
of malice aforethought; for it is not the man who acts in anger but he
who enraged him that starts the mischief. Again, the matter in dispute
is not whether the thing happened or not, but its justice; for it is
apparent injustice that occasions rage. For they do not dispute
about the occurrence of the act-as in commercial transactions where
one of the two parties must be vicious-unless they do so owing to
forgetfulness; but, agreeing about the fact, they dispute on which
side justice lies (whereas a man who has deliberately injured
another cannot help knowing that he has done so), so that the one
thinks he is being treated unjustly and the other disagrees.
But if a man harms another by choice, he acts unjustly; and these
are the acts of injustice which imply that the doer is an unjust
man, provided that the act violates proportion or equality. Similarly,
a man is just when he acts justly by choice; but he acts justly if
he merely acts voluntarily.
Of involuntary acts some are excusable, others not. For the mistakes
which men make not only in ignorance but also from ignorance are
excusable, while those which men do not from ignorance but (though
they do them in ignorance) owing to a passion which is neither natural
nor such as man is liable to, are not excusable.
9
Assuming that we have sufficiently defined the suffering and doing
of injustice, it may be asked (1) whether the truth in expressed in
Euripides' paradoxical words:
I slew my mother, that's my tale in brief.
Were you both willing, or unwilling both?
Is it truly possible to be willingly treated unjustly, or is all
suffering of injustice the contrary involuntary, as all unjust
action is voluntary? And is all suffering of injustice of the latter
kind or else all of the former, or is it sometimes voluntary,
sometimes involuntary? So, too, with the case of being justly treated;
all just action is voluntary, so that it is reasonable that there
should be a similar opposition in either case-that both being unjustly
and being justly treated should be either alike voluntary or alike
involuntary. But it would be thought paradoxical even in the case of
being justly treated, if it were always voluntary; for some are
unwillingly treated justly. (2) One might raise this question also,
whether every one who has suffered what is unjust is being unjustly
treated, or on the other hand it is with suffering as with acting.
In action and in passivity alike it is possible to partake of
justice incidentally, and similarly (it is plain) of injustice; for to
do what is unjust is not the same as to act unjustly, nor to suffer
what is unjust as to be treated unjustly, and similarly in the case of
acting justly and being justly treated; for it is impossible to be
unjustly treated if the other does not act unjustly, or justly treated
unless he acts justly. Now if to act unjustly is simply to harm some
one voluntarily, and 'voluntarily' means 'knowing the person acted on,
the instrument, and the manner of one's acting', and the incontinent
man voluntarily harms himself, not only will he voluntarily be
unjustly treated but it will be possible to treat oneself unjustly.
(This also is one of the questions in doubt, whether a man can treat
himself unjustly.) Again, a man may voluntarily, owing to
incontinence, be harmed by another who acts voluntarily, so that it
would be possible to be voluntarily treated unjustly. Or is our
definition incorrect; must we to 'harming another, with knowledge both
of the person acted on, of the instrument, and of the manner' add
'contrary to the wish of the person acted on'? Then a man may be
voluntarily harmed and voluntarily suffer what is unjust, but no one
is voluntarily treated unjustly; for no one wishes to be unjustly
treated, not even the incontinent man. He acts contrary to his wish;
for no one wishes for what he does not think to be good, but the
incontinent man does do things that he does not think he ought to
do. Again, one who gives what is his own, as Homer says Glaucus gave
Diomede
Armour of gold for brazen, the price of a hundred beeves for nine,
is not unjustly treated; for though to give is in his power, to be
unjustly treated is not, but there must be some one to treat him
unjustly. It is plain, then, that being unjustly treated is not
voluntary.
Of the questions we intended to discuss two still remain for
discussion; (3) whether it is the man who has assigned to another more
than his share that acts unjustly, or he who has the excessive
share, and (4) whether it is possible to treat oneself unjustly. The
questions are connected; for if the former alternative is possible and
the distributor acts unjustly and not the man who has the excessive
share, then if a man assigns more to another than to himself,
knowingly and voluntarily, he treats himself unjustly; which is what
modest people seem to do, since the virtuous man tends to take less
than his share. Or does this statement too need qualification? For (a)
he perhaps gets more than his share of some other good, e.g. of honour
or of intrinsic nobility. (b) The question is solved by applying the
distinction we applied to unjust action; for he suffers nothing
contrary to his own wish, so that he is not unjustly treated as far as
this goes, but at most only suffers harm.
It is plain too that the distributor acts unjustly, but not always
the man who has the excessive share; for it is not he to whom what
is unjust appertains that acts unjustly, but he to whom it
appertains to do the unjust act voluntarily, i.e. the person in whom
lies the origin of the action, and this lies in the distributor, not
in the receiver. Again, since the word 'do' is ambiguous, and there is
a sense in which lifeless things, or a hand, or a servant who obeys an
order, may be said to slay, he who gets an excessive share does not
act unjustly, though he 'does' what is unjust.
Again, if the distributor gave his judgement in ignorance, he does
not act unjustly in respect of legal justice, and his judgement is not
unjust in this sense, but in a sense it is unjust (for legal justice
and primordial justice are different); but if with knowledge he judged
unjustly, he is himself aiming at an excessive share either of
gratitude or of revenge. As much, then, as if he were to share in
the plunder, the man who has judged unjustly for these reasons has got
too much; the fact that what he gets is different from what he
distributes makes no difference, for even if he awards land with a
view to sharing in the plunder he gets not land but money.
Men think that acting unjustly is in their power, and therefore that
being just is easy. But it is not; to lie with one's neighbour's wife,
to wound another, to deliver a bribe, is easy and in our power, but to
do these things as a result of a certain state of character is neither
easy nor in our power. Similarly to know what is just and what is
unjust requires, men think, no great wisdom, because it is not hard to
understand the matters dealt with by the laws (though these are not
the things that are just, except incidentally); but how actions must
be done and distributions effected in order to be just, to know this
is a greater achievement than knowing what is good for the health;
though even there, while it is easy to know that honey, wine,
hellebore, cautery, and the use of the knife are so, to know how, to
whom, and when these should be applied with a view to producing
health, is no less an achievement than that of being a physician.
Again, for this very reason men think that acting unjustly is
characteristic of the just man no less than of the unjust, because
he would be not less but even more capable of doing each of these
unjust acts; for he could lie with a woman or wound a neighbour; and
the brave man could throw away his shield and turn to flight in this
direction or in that. But to play the coward or to act unjustly
consists not in doing these things, except incidentally, but in
doing them as the result of a certain state of character, just as to
practise medicine and healing consists not in applying or not applying
the knife, in using or not using medicines, but in doing so in a
certain way.
Just acts occur between people who participate in things good in
themselves and can have too much or too little of them; for some
beings (e.g. presumably the gods) cannot have too much of them, and to
others, those who are incurably bad, not even the smallest share in
them is beneficial but all such goods are harmful, while to others
they are beneficial up to a point; therefore justice is essentially
something human.
10
Our next subject is equity and the equitable (to epiekes), and their
respective relations to justice and the just. For on examination
they appear to be neither absolutely the same nor generically
different; and while we sometime praise what is equitable and the
equitable man (so that we apply the name by way of praise even to
instances of the other virtues, instead of 'good' meaning by
epieikestebon that a thing is better), at other times, when we
reason it out, it seems strange if the equitable, being something
different from the just, is yet praiseworthy; for either the just or
the equitable is not good, if they are different; or, if both are
good, they are the same.
These, then, are pretty much the considerations that give rise to
the problem about the equitable; they are all in a sense correct and
not opposed to one another; for the equitable, though it is better
than one kind of justice, yet is just, and it is not as being a
different class of thing that it is better than the just. The same
thing, then, is just and equitable, and while both are good the
equitable is superior. What creates the problem is that the
equitable is just, but not the legally just but a correction of
legal justice. The reason is that all law is universal but about
some things it is not possible to make a universal statement which
shall be correct. In those cases, then, in which it is necessary to
speak universally, but not possible to do so correctly, the law
takes the usual case, though it is not ignorant of the possibility
of error. And it is none the less correct; for the error is in the law
nor in the legislator but in the nature of the thing, since the matter
of practical affairs is of this kind from the start. When the law
speaks universally, then, and a case arises on it which is not covered
by the universal statement, then it is right, where the legislator
fails us and has erred by oversimplicity, to correct the omission-to
say what the legislator himself would have said had he been present,
and would have put into his law if he had known. Hence the equitable
is just, and better than one kind of justice-not better than
absolute justice but better than the error that arises from the
absoluteness of the statement. And this is the nature of the
equitable, a correction of law where it is defective owing to its
universality. In fact this is the reason why all things are not
determined by law, that about some things it is impossible to lay down
a law, so that a decree is needed. For when the thing is indefinite
the rule also is indefinite, like the leaden rule used in making the
Lesbian moulding; the rule adapts itself to the shape of the stone and
is not rigid, and so too the decree is adapted to the facts.
It is plain, then, what the equitable is, and that it is just and is
better than one kind of justice. It is evident also from this who
the equitable man is; the man who chooses and does such acts, and is
no stickler for his rights in a bad sense but tends to take less
than his share though he has the law oft his side, is equitable, and
this state of character is equity, which is a sort of justice and
not a different state of character.
11
Whether a man can treat himself unjustly or not, is evident from
what has been said. For (a) one class of just acts are those acts in
accordance with any virtue which are prescribed by the law; e.g. the
law does not expressly permit suicide, and what it does not
expressly permit it forbids. Again, when a man in violation of the law
harms another (otherwise than in retaliation) voluntarily, he acts
unjustly, and a voluntary agent is one who knows both the person he is
affecting by his action and the instrument he is using; and he who
through anger voluntarily stabs himself does this contrary to the
right rule of life, and this the law does not allow; therefore he is
acting unjustly. But towards whom? Surely towards the state, not
towards himself. For he suffers voluntarily, but no one is voluntarily
treated unjustly. This is also the reason why the state punishes; a
certain loss of civil rights attaches to the man who destroys himself,
on the ground that he is treating the state unjustly.
Further (b) in that sense of 'acting unjustly' in which the man
who 'acts unjustly' is unjust only and not bad all round, it is not
possible to treat oneself unjustly (this is different from the
former sense; the unjust man in one sense of the term is wicked in a
particularized way just as the coward is, not in the sense of being
wicked all round, so that his 'unjust act' does not manifest
wickedness in general). For (i) that would imply the possibility of
the same thing's having been subtracted from and added to the same
thing at the same time; but this is impossible-the just and the unjust
always involve more than one person. Further, (ii) unjust action is
voluntary and done by choice, and takes the initiative (for the man
who because he has suffered does the same in return is not thought
to act unjustly); but if a man harms himself he suffers and does the
same things at the same time. Further, (iii) if a man could treat
himself unjustly, he could be voluntarily treated unjustly. Besides,
(iv) no one acts unjustly without committing particular acts of
injustice; but no one can commit adultery with his own wife or
housebreaking on his own house or theft on his own property,
In general, the question 'can a man treat himself unjustly?' is
solved also by the distinction we applied to the question 'can a man
be voluntarily treated unjustly?'
(It is evident too that both are bad, being unjustly treated and
acting unjustly; for the one means having less and the other having
more than the intermediate amount, which plays the part here that
the healthy does in the medical art, and that good condition does in
the art of bodily training. But still acting unjustly is the worse,
for it involves vice and is blameworthy-involves vice which is
either of the complete and unqualified kind or almost so (we must
admit the latter alternative, because not all voluntary unjust
action implies injustice as a state of character), while being
unjustly treated does not involve vice and injustice in oneself. In
itself, then, being unjustly treated is less bad, but there is nothing
to prevent its being incidentally a greater evil. But theory cares
nothing for this; it calls pleurisy a more serious mischief than a
stumble; yet the latter may become incidentally the more serious, if
the fall due to it leads to your being taken prisoner or put to
death the enemy.)
Metaphorically and in virtue of a certain resemblance there is a
justice, not indeed between a man and himself, but between certain
parts of him; yet not every kind of justice but that of master and
servant or that of husband and wife. For these are the ratios in which
the part of the soul that has a rational principle stands to the
irrational part; and it is with a view to these parts that people also
think a man can be unjust to himself, viz. because these parts are
liable to suffer something contrary to their respective desires; there
is therefore thought to be a mutual justice between them as between
ruler and ruled.
Let this be taken as our account of justice and the other, i.e.
the other moral, virtues.